by Debra Doxer
I gnaw the inside of my cheek. “That’s what she said.”
“If she doesn’t, will you have to go? Will I be here alone?”
My eyes widen. “What? Of course not.” I sit back down and take her small hands in mine. “I’m not going anywhere until your mother comes home. I promise.”
She nods, but her eyes turn glassy.
My throat constricts. “Your mother loves you very much, Langley. I love you too. You know that, right? There’s no way you’ll ever be alone, no matter what.”
She nods again and I give her a reassuring look, but my anger at Renee boils over. How could she do this to her daughter? When she comes back, she has to get help. If she refuses again, I’ll have to find some way to make her get it.
“Derek’s back from camping with his dad,” Langley says, and I follow her gaze to see headlights cut through the darkness next door. “Have you ever been camping, Aunt Nikki?”
I shake my head but my gaze stays next door because I hope to catch a glimpse of Cole. It’s too dark, though. Once the headlights turn off, I can’t see anything.
“Maybe we can go someday,” she says.
“Maybe.”
I turn back to Langley and my heart squeezes because she wants to do something with me. Gone is the sarcastic girl who mostly shrugged instead of talking when I first got here. But I don’t kid myself about her. The only reason I won her over so easily is because she’s sweet and kindhearted. If Renee ruins those qualities in her, I don’t know if I could ever forgive her or myself for not preventing it.
Once the brownies are ready, Langley only takes a few bites of one before her eyes begin to close. I walk her upstairs and guide her through her bedtime routine. Before I leave, I ask her a question.
“The day I got here, you said your mom was picked up by a friend. Do you remember what that friend’s car looked like?”
She scrunches up her forehead.
“It’s okay if you don’t. I just thought I’d ask.”
“I think it was silver,” she says quietly.
“Silver. Thanks. Sleep tight, sweetie.” I lean down to kiss her on the forehead.
Once she’s tucked in, I go back downstairs and clean up the kitchen. Just as I finish, the house phone rings.
I look at it in surprise. Renee’s phone has rung very few times this week, and it’s been mostly telemarketers. Would Renee call the house number?
I grab the cordless phone on the counter. “Hello?”
“Is this Renee Taylor?”
My shoulders sag and it takes me a moment to respond. “No, she’s not here. Can I take a message?”
“This is Carol calling from Woodbridge Village. I need to speak with her about her mother.”
My fingers tighten around the phone. “Is she okay? This is Nikki, her other daughter.”
“She’s fine. I’m calling because she’s being a little difficult tonight. She wouldn’t eat her dinner, and now she’s demanding to see her daughter. Renee usually comes on Fridays. When Mrs. Taylor realized today is Sunday and Renee missed her usual Friday visit, she became upset and insisted we call.”
“Has Renee ever missed a Friday visit before?”
“Not in the time that I’ve been here, but I only started about a month ago. Could you ask Renee to call her mother? I don’t think Mrs. Taylor will get any sleep tonight until she talks to her.”
Does Renee realize she missed her visit? Did she know how Mom would react? I ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach.
“She’s away and I can’t reach her right now.”
“Oh.” She pauses. “Maybe you could talk to her then?”
“No.” I say the word quickly, almost desperately.
There’s another hesitation before she speaks again. “Then I’ll have to talk to her doctor and see what he would like to do.”
I hear censure in her voice before she ends the call.
My hand trembles as I replace the phone in its cradle. I surprised myself with my adamant no at the suggestion of talking to my own mother. It was a visceral reaction, but an idea I’ve grappled with all week.
If I were really worried about Renee, I would go see my mother. Renee may have told her something that could give me some hint of where she is or why she left, although my mother obviously doesn’t know Renee is gone. But I don’t want to go to Woodbridge Village. Seeing my mother would only remind me of things I want to forget. Besides, she doesn’t want to see me any more than I want to see her.
I lean on the counter as I look out the window into the backyard, but all I see is my own reflection in the glass, dark eyes swimming in a pale complexion. I haven’t talked to my mother since she had her first stroke. That’s when Renee left the company and moved back here to take care of Langley because Mom wasn’t capable of doing it anymore.
My life has changed so much since I lived here. I’m not the person I used to be, and if I try very hard, I can almost pretend the life I lived before never happened. Only the people who lived it with me know differently.
I stand by the back door and watch Siegfried explore the yard. Upstairs, Langley is getting ready for school. She took the news that her mother didn’t come home last night better than I expected. She seemed more resigned than surprised.
It would have been easier if she’d cried. Then I’d know how she was feeling. Instead, she said nothing as her shoulders slumped. She looked so small and vulnerable, it nearly broke me. But I can’t let her see how worried I am. I need her to believe everything is going to be okay, even if I’m not sure myself.
As I’m about to call Siegfried inside, he turns his head in the direction of Cole’s yard and walks that way instead. I look over to see Cole pet his head and send me a worried glance as he walks Siegfried back.
“You’re still here,” he says, stepping onto the patio.
He’s a sight for sore eyes in well-worn jeans and a navy button-down shirt with his dark hair slicked back, still wet from his shower. Even with all that’s happening in his life, the image he projects is grounded and stable. I wish I had an ounce of his strength and confidence.
“Renee didn’t come home?” he asks, and I can’t imagine how screwed up he must think my family is.
“No. No word from her either.”
He takes in what I said, evaluating me, trying to gauge my mood. At least, that’s how it feels, but then it changes. His gaze deepens in a way that makes my blood rush faster. In his eyes, I see sympathy for my situation, but beneath it there’s want, raw and needy, but his turned-down lips indicate he’s conflicted about it.
I know how he feels because I feel it too. I was supposed to be gone by now, safely returned to my own life, away from temptation. But I’m still here, and there’s no hiding from the fierce attraction that exists between us.
“What are you going to do?” he asks.
I exhale a shaky breath. “Figure out where Renee went and try to bring her back.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I guess I’ll start with my mother. Renee went to see her every week. Maybe she knows something.”
His eyes narrow curiously, and I realize Renee must have told him something about my relationship with my mother. “When was the last time you saw her?”
“It’s been years.” I wait for him to ask why, but he doesn’t. Renee probably told him a story about that too.
“How’s Langley?”
“Putting up a brave front. She asked me if I was going to go home and leave her alone here. She thought I’d desert her too.” Saying those words out loud, they hit me even harder. “How could Renee do this? How could my sister just walk away from her life? If she hates me so much, why would she leave Langley with me? None of this makes any sense.”
He moves closer and places his hand on my shoulder. It’s a comforting touch and it calms me. But the feeling is fleeting because I can tell by the reticent expression on his face that a reassuring touch is all he’ll ever give. He wants to offer comfo
rt, but nothing more.
Wishes bubble up from deep inside me. I wish I’d been there when he came back to my apartment two years ago. I wish we were meeting again under different circumstances. So many wishes, and there aren’t even any stars up in the sky.
As I stand in front of Cole, there’s a heaviness in my heart. A part of me that feels beaten down. Everything I want is slipping away or out of reach. My sister is gone, my career is crumbling, and the man I’ve dreamed about for years wants me but won’t take me, and I don’t know why. Maybe I’m not good enough for him. I’m not glamorous like his wife was in those pictures I saw online. Or maybe he still believes the things Renee told him about me.
“What can I do to help?” he asks.
“You can kiss me.”
Cole goes still.
Wide-eyed, I gaze up at him. I can’t believe I just said that. God knows I want to kiss him.
“It doesn’t have to be anything more,” I say when he doesn’t move. “Just a simple kiss to relieve the tension, because we want to, because it will feel good. It doesn’t have to be a complication.”
Surprise flickers in his eyes as they search mine. He licks his lips but still he hesitates, and I want to scream in frustration. Where’s the Cole I met two years ago, the one who homed in on me like a laser at Blackburn’s? The one who in his own quiet way made it impossible to refuse him.
Before I can think better of it, I push up onto my toes and wrap my arms around Cole’s neck, pushing my body flush against his.
“Please,” I whisper, ashamed that I have to beg but willing to do it anyway.
His jaw flexes and thoughts war behind his eyes, but finally his arms come around me as his lips slant over mine. He pulls me closer, and when his hand fists in my hair and gently tugs my head back to deepen the kiss, I’m lost to him.
Cole takes control and there’s no slow buildup, no gradual descent. Passion consumes us, and it wouldn’t matter if a tornado came tearing through the yard. I wouldn’t notice. But somehow Cole keeps his wits about him. He drags his mouth from mine.
“Langley,” he says, his gaze focused above my head toward the slider into the kitchen. Thinking quickly, he moves us to the side, out of view.
“Did she see?” My heartbeat is frantic, my body strung tight.
“I don’t think so.”
We stand there and catch our breaths together. He rests his chin on my head because neither of us have relaxed our arms. We still have them wrapped around each other.
“A kiss between us is complicated, Nikki. Let’s not fool ourselves.”
Slowly, I unwind my arms from his neck. “Why? Because of Renee?”
He leans back to look at me. “Because of us. Because of how this feels.”
This feels incredible, but I can already sense him pulling away. He’s shutting down again, and my racing heart beats even faster because I’m going to ask the question that hangs between us. The one reason I’m most afraid is the source of his hesitation.
“Did you sleep with my sister?”
My question surprises him. When the skin around his eyes tightens and he hesitates, I have my answer. He doesn’t even have to nod slowly, reluctantly, the way he finally does.
My reaction is immediate. I’m quietly devastated. Everything inside me slowly sinks to the ground.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.
“Me too.”
I agree automatically but I’m not sure what he’s sorry for. Maybe everything. I didn’t think things could get any worse, but he just made them feel that way.
“I’d better go inside and make sure Langley’s ready for school.”
“Nikki, wait.” He reaches for my hand and I stop.
“Renee and I aren’t together. It’s not like that.”
“What’s it like?” I ask, hating how harsh I sound. I have no right to sound that way.
He winces. “We didn’t have a relationship. It wasn’t serious.”
“Just sex then?” I arch a brow.
He hesitates and then he nods, looking uncomfortable, regretful.
Just like with me. Except it wasn’t just sex, not for me, not for him, and probably not for Renee either. I don’t know why he wants to explain himself, but Cole doesn’t know my sister like I do.
“Renee doesn’t work that way. She falls in love with every man she sleeps with. She always has.”
He shakes his head. “Not me.”
His expression is one of certainty, and maybe he’s right. He was right about the kiss. It was more complicated than I even knew.
“It’s too bad it wasn’t like that. Then you might know where she is.”
I say the words to hurt him because I’m hurting, but I don’t know if they work because I can’t seem to meet Cole’s eyes as I say a soft good-bye and go inside.
Woodbridge Village has residences of varying amenities, depending on how independent the occupant is and how good their benefits are. My mother, Maggie Taylor, got lucky on one count, but not so lucky on the other. Because my father worked for the post office for over thirty years and she refused to let him divorce her after he left, her benefits are decent, but she needs constant care.
Renee calls Woodbridge a nursing home. They call themselves an assisted living facility, and I think my mother is one of the youngest residents there at only fifty-six years old. Due to an undiagnosed heart problem, a blot clot formed in her body and caused her first stroke. Her second stroke happened because she stopped taking her blood thinner medication and developed another clot. She thought the medication was too expensive, and now she’s paying a high price for that decision.
The doctors recommended she stay here until she regains her mobility. Caring for her at home would be a full-time job, one neither Renee nor I are willing or able to undertake. Two years after her last stroke, she’s still here. Renee thinks she’s depressed and isn’t trying to get better.
When Renee talks about our mother, I listen but I can’t connect with the information or the emotions. My sense of detachment isn’t normal; I know that. But my upbringing wasn’t normal, and after what happened, I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel or react. It’s easier not to feel anything. My superpower. Too bad it’s useless against Cole.
I close my eyes and force my thoughts of him away. Thoughts that have followed me all morning long. When I open them again, I study the yellow clapboard buildings that sit high on a grassy hill. My mother’s home now. A place I’ve never visited before.
I give my name at the front desk, even though it’s unlikely I’m on my mother’s list. But Carol, the woman I spoke to on the phone, is there. I read her name on a small tag pinned to her shirt. She approaches me with a friendly smile when I announce myself. With clipped brown hair, a round face free of makeup, and a perfectly pressed pink uniform, Carol strikes me as a no-nonsense, efficient sort of person.
“I’m glad you made it. Your mother was still asking about your sister when I got here this morning.”
She walks down the white-tiled hallway that leads away from the reception area and looks over her shoulder at me, silently suggesting I follow. I take a deep breath because I’m sure that hallway leads to my mother, and my only thought is that I wish it were longer. I wish it were a hundred miles long.
I smooth my hair and tuck the sides neatly behind my ears as I make my way to where Carol has stopped. I hate how nervous I am and that I feel the need to make myself presentable. My mother will be so shocked to see me here, what I look like will hardly matter.
“Right in there. She just finished her breakfast.” Carol points to an open doorway down an adjacent corridor. With an encouraging smile, she turns and walks away.
I stand there and stare at the doorway as if it’s an entrance to a more sinister place, a dark cave where a bear may be lurking. I haven’t planned what to say. I don’t know how she’ll react to me, so I didn’t see much point.
Soft footfalls behind me catch my attention and I turn to see another n
urse dressed in the same pink uniform look at me oddly, probably wondering why I’m lingering out here. I’m wondering too. My mother is just a woman, not a bear, although oftentimes I’ve wondered if she’s a monster.
With a fortifying breath, I approach the door and hear the sound of the television playing inside. When I step in and see her, I grip the strap on my purse tighter. She looks so small lying beneath a white blanket. The mattress tilts up behind her back so she can see the screen. The last time I saw her, she had a few streaks of gray in her hair, but now it’s all white and cut short. She’s a shadow of the woman I remember.
“Renee, finally,” she says, but her words are slurred. The left side of her face droops and her left arm lays limply on top of the blanket.
I take another step into the room. “It’s Nikki, Mom, not Renee.”
She squints at me. “Nikki?”
One more step puts me directly beside her bed. My palms are slick with sweat as I put my purse down on a chair.
“Where’s Renee?”
Old hurts, buried deep inside, show signs of life. My mother hasn’t seen me in years, but she wants to know where Renee is.
“I don’t know where she is. That’s why I’m here. To see if you do.”
She works hard to sit up straighter, and I make no move to help her.
“How on earth would I know?” she asks. “I’m stuck here.”
“Renee has been gone a week. Did she mention anything to you about taking a trip or planning to go somewhere?”
She looks around the room. “Where’s Langley?”
“She’s at school. I’m looking after her while Renee’s gone.”
“You?” She scoffs. “What do you know about children?”
My back stiffens and I fold my arms over my chest as if they’re a shield that can protect me. “I know how to love them, which is more than you did.”
Her eyes fill with fire. She scowls and her lips move but I can’t understand the sounds that come out. In her anger, her speech is nearly unintelligible.
“Look, I didn’t come here to upset you. I came because I’m worried about Renee. Do you have any idea where she might be?”
