by Donna Fasano
“Yes, I know Ginny. And aside from being the tiniest bit spoiled, she’s a great kid.”
Laurel nodded. “I’ve come to the conclusion that I didn’t do such a hot job of raising her.”
“You did a fine job,” Michael assured her. “Considering it wasn’t your place to begin with. That should have been handled by your parents. I’m curious about why it wasn’t.”
She stared down into the crystal glass half-filled with rich, red burgundy. “There was a time when we were so happy, a real family. Dad, Mom, Brian, Ginny and me.”
She looked into Michael’s eyes and saw tenderness expressed there.
“When Brian died, it was as though a great black cloud descended on all of us. And it’s been shadowing us ever since.” Setting her wine down and grinning humorlessly, she said, “It isn’t as though Ginny hasn’t tried. God, how she’s tried to break free.”
“What happened?” he asked softly.
Her gaze left his face to stare unseeingly into the fire. Although Michael’s query seemed vague, although he hadn’t used her brother’s name, Laurel knew he was asking about Brian’s death.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He drowned.” She was quiet a moment, then turned back toward Michael. “You know, it’s been more than five years since he died. And even after all this time, those words still sound so unbelievable to me.”
Michael’s face relaxed with understanding, as though he wanted to absorb some of her pain.
“He’d gone out with a group of his friends. They’d been drinking. My brother went into the water after hearing a shout for help. That’s what the others said, anyway.
“To this day I don’t know if it was Brian’s drunken state or the other boy’s struggles that caused both of them to lose their lives. I’m sure I’ll never know.” She picked up her wine and, after sipping it, replaced the glass on the table. Sighing, she gazed at Michael’s silent, concerned expression.
“I do know, though,” she continued, “what Brian’s death did to my family. My mother, who once was a happy, healthy, amazing woman, was transformed overnight. She turned into a ghost, Michael. And she’s never recovered. You see, they’d had a fight that night, Brian and my mother. It was Brian’s eighteenth birthday and Mom wanted him to celebrate with the family. She’d baked him a cake. And decorated it herself. She was so proud of it. Taking pictures…” Laurel closed her eyes, remembering. “I can still smell it. Two-layer lemon cake. His favorite.”
Opening her eyes, she swallowed hard. “But, of course, he had other plans. He was a man; didn’t want to be told what to do. Wanted to celebrate with his friends. They had a terrible argument. It was the first time I’d ever heard my brother yell at Mom.” Her gut knotted as if the scene were happening all over again.
“Anyway, after the police showed up at the house to tell us about Brian, Mom went…she…” The rest of the memory was too unspeakable to describe. “An ambulance took her away that night. Ginny and I were told she needed to rest. I found out later that she’d had a complete breakdown. She was in a convalescent home for six weeks before she came home.” Laurel gave a small, slow shake of her head. “She’s never been the same.”
Michael enveloped her hand in his.
“Mom sort of withdrew inside herself. She didn’t want to deal with any of it.” Blinking, Laurel was surprised to find her eyes moist, a tear slipping to the corner of her mouth. She raised a hand to dry her cheek, but Michael caught her fingers in his and gently wiped the tear away.
“And your dad?” he queried softly. “How did he react to all this?”
“He couldn’t deal with Mom’s silence. He began to leave us more and more and stayed away longer on his buying trips.”
“Which left you to run the business, deal with your mother and raise Ginny all on your own.”
Hearing the words aloud and seeing Michael’s sharp reaction to them, Laurel felt an enormous need to explain.
“Michael, people deal with the pain of death in different ways. Mom had hers and Dad had his. Who’s to say which way is right or wrong? If it gets you through, that’s all that matters.” Her eyes pleaded for his approval. “Yes, I took care of my mother and Ginny. There was no one else to do it.”
“No.” He slowly nodded his head, the tension in him easing. “There was no one else to do it.”
At some time during her story, he’d scooted closer. His long fingers slowly stroked up and down along her jaw. His arms wrapped her like a protective cloak and she felt soothed in his embrace. Resting her head on his arm felt like the most natural thing in the world for her to do.
“Life hasn’t been fair to you.” He traced the line of her cheekbone. “You’ve given up a lot for your family.”
“Oh, but that’s not true. I’ve been needed and I’ve been loved. How much more can you ask for?”
“Much more.” He lightly fondled her earlobe. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers blazing a trail down her throat.
Laurel lifted her head and, gazing into his eyes, saw dark sparks of desire. The calm, consoling mood between them suddenly shifted, and she wasn’t quite sure how to stop it. Or, for that matter, if she wanted to.
When he pressed his lips to her forehead, she spread her hand flat against his chest. The pounding of his heartbeat quickened, and her own desire flared within her.
His eyes were darker now and he lowered his head to nibble at her ear. He kissed the line of downy hair behind it and a delicious shiver coursed through her. He kissed her mouth tenderly, gently, and liquid fire raced through her body. He nuzzled her neck with his kisses and little nips. She wanted to guide his lips back to hers, but it felt so good, so right, that she couldn’t seem to lift her arms.
“I want you, Laurel,” he whispered.
I want you, too. She wasn’t sure if she had spoken the words aloud or not.
He covered her mouth with his once more and she returned his kiss with fervor. He pulled back, cupping her chin in his palm, and rubbed his thumb over her moist lips.
“Let me make you forget everything for a while.” Nimbly working open at the buttons, he slipped his hand into her blouse to caress her breast. His lips brushed her throat and collarbone, then burned the creamy flesh of her breast. She lifted her hand to bury her fingers in his thick hair.
For a while…
For a while…
His words replayed themselves over in her mind, rousing her from the foggy depths of desire. He wanted her, desired her. She knew that. Could feel it in his kiss, in his touch. But the words tolling through her head told her that there was no possibility of a commitment from him.
It wasn’t his fault. It was hers. She was the one who had conjured up this whole romantic scenario between them. She was also the one who had allowed him lose sight of their original goals. She should have spoken up the very first time his romantic behavior toward her was unwarranted. But she had relished his attention.
She relished it now. Yearned for it. She knew it would be easy to lose herself in this rage of longing that had caught them up, and that, if she made no move to stop him, he would make love to her. And if she let that happen, his touch, his scent, would be trapped forever in her memory.
But is that what she wanted?
Making love to him would be heaven on earth. But this moment would end. And all she’d have was a memory. Would that be enough? To live with a cold and lonely memory? A memory that would surely hound her all of her days? One that would cause her pain each time it was brought forth in her mind? Was it better to have something and then lose it and know the pain of that loss or remain blissfully ignorant from the very beginning?
“Michael, please stop.” She tugged him away from her and saw his gaze thick with desire, his breathing as ragged as her own. Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t want to do this.”
He took a deep breath, then another, and dragged his fingers through his hair. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” She fumbled with the fabr
ic of her blouse and saw her fingers trembling as she fastened the buttons.
“Laurel,” he said, catching her chin and raising her face so she’d look at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t want to do this.” Pulling herself from his grasp, she looked away, wanting to hide the truth from him. “And anyway, we’re supposed to meet Ginny and Darlene.”
He sat for a moment, quiet, frowning. Finally, he said, “Oh, I get it. Mother hen is back.” He stood and strode over to the fireplace.
“What do you mean by that?” Laurel bristled.
“Nothing.” Banking the fire, he replaced the screen and hung up the poker. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
She’d done the right thing, she thought as they rode in silence toward the cabin. She was sure of it. Living with the memory of being touched, being loved physically, by Michael would be unbearably painful. It was better not to know the sweetness of it.
“Would you make my excuses? I don’t think I’ll come in.” Michael’s voice was low as he stopped the truck in front of the cabin.
“I understand.” She got out, then spun around, saying his name just as he’d uttered hers.
Their eyes met and held.
What could she say? How could she make him understand the emotions roiling in her without looking like melodramatic teen with a crush? Finally, lifting her shoulder a fraction, she said, “It’s not that Iâ”
“Laurel! Michael!” Ginny came bursting from the cabin, stopping at the top of the porch steps. “Please! I need you! It’s Darlene!”
The desperation in her voice made both Laurel and Michael run for the front door.
Taking the stone steps in two strides, Michael was the first inside. When Laurel followed, she saw the young girl sitting on the sofa, her face pale and covered with a moist sheen of perspiration.
“It hurts,” Darlene whispered, clutching Michael’s hand tightly.
“You need to relax. Breathe slowly,” he told her.
“She wouldn’t let me call for help.” Ginny was on the verge of tears. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“It’s all right now. We’ll help her,” Laurel assured her sister. “Should I call an ambulance?” She directed her question at Michael.
“Yes.”
“No!” Darlene was panting as the pain subsided. “I don’t have insurance. I can’t afford an ambulance.”
“But…but,” Laurel wasn’t sure what to say.
“It’s okay.” Michael’s tone remained measured and calm. “Plenty of pregnant women are driven to the hospital every day. I’ll take you. My truck’s outside.”
“But it’s nothing,” Darlene insisted. “It’s false labor. It’ll pass. I’ve had it off and on all week.”
“At least let us call your doctor.” Laurel sat down next to Darlene. “He should know about this. He’ll tell us what we should do.”
After getting the doctor’s name and number, she pulled out her cell and began dialing. The ringing on the other end of the line seemed incessant. Laurel watched Darlene closely. She saw Michael stuff pillows behind the girl’s lower back in order to make her more comfortable. He sent Ginny after a cool cloth.
The only experience Laurel remembered having with childbirth was when her mother had been pregnant with Ginny, but because Laurel had been so young, all the pain and difficulty of it had gone unnoticed. The taut lines she now saw around Darlene’s mouth were pulled even tighter as the girl was hit with another contraction. Instinctively Laurel knew there was nothing false about this labor.
“Come on, already,” she whispered impatiently into the receiver. Why didn’t someone answer? Finally, someone did, but Laurel was disappointed to find out it was only the doctor’s answering service. She left her name and number and, before she hung up, told the operator that it was an emergency.
“But it’s not!” Darlene wailed. “It’s not time yet.”
“There’s no harm in letting the doctor have a look at you.” Michael tried to placate her. “All we have to do is sit tight, relax and wait for the doctor to call back.”
“I need to get up. I need to walk it off.”
Laurel immediately made to help Darlene rise only to see Michael’s glare.
“If her body’s telling her to walk, then she should walk,” she snapped at him. “It’s got to be better than sitting here waiting for another contraction.”
Michael heaved a sigh, his shoulders rounding.
“You’re right,” he said, and he stood to help Darlene.
Laurel took hold of one elbow, Michael the other, as they pulled Darlene up off the couch. Immediately, the young woman gasped. Laurel looked down to see clear birthing fluid pooling on the floor at their feet.
Chapter Eight
Darlene’s bottom lip quivered and she clamped it between her teeth. “But it’s not time,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.
“I’ll get some towels,” Ginny said.
“No, no. Don’t bother with that now.” Laurel was afraid to move from Darlene’s side. “Get her coat, Gin.”
“You want to come along?” Michael looked questioningly at Laurel.
She nodded. “We’ll take my car.”
Ginny bustled around gathering coats, purses and keys.
They stopped about midway between the cabin and the car as the girl bent over for a full minute, a wave of pain jolting through her.
Michael took the keys from Ginny. Laurel bundled Darlene into the back seat and crawled in after her.
Ginny climbed into the front beside Michael. Darlene’s tears flowed unhindered.
“This can’t be happening,” she sniffed. “Jim wanted to be here.” She blew her nose on a tissue Ginny handed her. “He wanted to be with me when the baby was born.”
“You need to stay calm,” Laurel reminded her. “Take deep breaths.” Reaching over, she took hold of Darlene’s hand and rubbed it between hers.
It seemed to Laurel that they were creeping along on the winding, twisty road. She noticed Michael’s tense silence as he drove.
“I’m awfully sorry.” Darlene’s pale face was covered with glossy perspiration. She swallowed and tried to smile.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’ll see, everything will be all right,” Laurel assured her.
“You two haven’t even met yet.” Ginny turned around to face them. “Laurel, meet Darlene. Darlene, Laurel.”
“You work with Jim. He likes working with you. He told me all about you.”
I wish he’d told me about you, Laurel thought guiltily. I’d have sent him right home, trouble with Ginny or no trouble with Ginny. She squeezed Darlene’s fingers reassuringly and realized what Jim had given up so that she could bring Ginny here. She smiled at Darlene. “Jim’s a great guy.”
“I think so,” Darlene agreed. Then she clutched Laurel’s hand, almost choking as she inhaled sharply. Panic and a healthy dose of fear widened her eyes.
“Michael,” Laurel urged. “We need to hurry. Her contractions seem terribly strong.”
“I’m going as fast as I can,” he barked.
Laurel focused her attention on Darlene, who was panting.
“Slowly. Slowly. Breathe with me.” Laurel inhaled deeply.
“Tell himâ” Darlene gulped at the words “âtell him to take the valley road.”
“We can’t take the valley road!”
“What’s the valley road?” Laurel asked.
“Shorter,” Darlene panted. “Just ahead.”
“Yes, it’s shorter. But it’s a dirt road, for God’s sake! You’ll be jostled all over that backseat. I won’t take it. You’re in enough pain as it is!”
“I can feel the baby coming.” Darlene’s voice broke with a sob.
Laurel leaned forward. “How much shorter is it?”
“Laurel, we can’t take the valley road. It’s full of potholes and it’s overgrown in places. Every delinquent in town goes out there drinking, so it’s littered wit
h broken glass.”
Seeing Darlene’s stark white knuckles made Laurel repeat the question in a sharper tone. “How much shorter?”
“Quite a bit. But it’sâ”
Hearing Darlene groan, Laurel interrupted Michael. “Then I think you better take it because this baby’s waiting for no one.”
Michael let out a breathy curse. “Hold on, then,” he advised them all as he turned onto the bumpy, narrow lane.
Sliding as far toward the door as she could, Laurel turned to Darlene. “I want you to lean against the door and bring your feet up onto the seat. Ginny, lock her door.”
“Here,” Ginny offered, “you might need these.”
“You brought towels?” Laurel’s voice held a note of surprise. “Great thinking!”
“But I wasn’t,” Ginny admitted lamely. “I also grabbed a bar of soap and the dental floss. Don’t ask me what I thought we’d do with them.”
“Here,” Laurel said, tucking one of the towels under Darlene’s hips. “This should be much more comfortable for you.”
They were jostled back and forth as the car rolled along the dirt road. Loose rocks thumped against the bottom of the car, thrown up by the tires. The shocks bounced as they hit one hole after another.
“Michael, you can slow down.” Darlene wiped her hand across her face. “I think it’s over.”
“Over?” Laurel and Ginny asked in unison.
Darlene nodded. “The pain’s almost gone.” She sighed, her breath catching on a relieved sob. “I was so scared.”
“So was I.” Ginny’s head bobbed.
Of course, this wasn’t over. They’d all been standing there when Darlene’s water broke. This was merely the calm before the storm. But Laurel hesitated saying so for fear of upsetting this unexpected peace, no matter how fleeting it might turn out to be.
“Even so, Darlene,” Michael said his words carefully measured, “I want to get you into town so the doctor can have a look at you.”
Laurel leaned forward and touched his shoulder. “I agree.”
“Well, that eases my mind,” he muttered.
She snatched her hand away, resting her clenched fist in her lap.
