The Good Father

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Ella knew better.

  “Take a walk?” He motioned to the sidewalk that bordered the beach, stretching for more than a mile in either direction.

  The area wasn’t deserted. The beach, the sidewalk, weren’t teeming with tourists the way they might have been on a hot summer Sunday night, but many locals, dressed in pants and shirts, some with sweaters on instead of swimsuits and shorts, populated the area.

  “Sure,” she said, glad that she’d worn flat sandals with her jeans. It wasn’t like old times, she reminded herself. While she and Brett had walked along the beach every single time they’d come to town, they’d never been on this particular stretch of sidewalk together.

  And they weren’t holding hands.

  “It was a great idea, having Chloe work at the Stand,” he said as they started out, side by side, with enough space between them that there was no chance of brushing hands.

  “It’s a two-way street, you know? She helps them, and they help her. I’m hoping that she’ll get help for her situation through the residents as she works side by side with them.”

  She had no way of knowing whether or not Brett agreed with her. He didn’t reply. In the old days, the good days, she’d have known exactly what he was thinking. Because he’d have told her. In the latter days of their marriage, the ones during which their relationship had started to fade right before her eyes, he might have nodded.

  Today’s response was completely expected. Normal. For present day.

  But he’d asked for this time. This walk. Not talking wasn’t fair to her.

  “So what’s up?” she asked when, in the past, she’d have remained silent in an effort to give him whatever it was he needed.

  “The plan.”

  “What plan?” She knew the ocean was there, off to her left. Was aware that there were people around them. But Brett, his steps, his breathing, his scent, was her only focus.

  Just like always.

  “You asked for my help.”

  “I know. And I’m incredibly grateful that you’re being so good about it. Thank you, Brett. I was...nervous about asking you...”

  “Nervous? Why?”

  She shrugged, instantly uncomfortable. A simple thank-you. That was all that had been called for. It hadn’t been meant to turn personal.

  But she wasn’t going to subjugate herself to his needs anymore. They weren’t a couple, and she had no reason to hide.

  “I was afraid you’d be angry.”

  “Angry at you? For asking for my help?”

  His surprise astounded her. “Pretty much everything I did in the last months of our marriage pissed you off,” she reminded him with a half chuckle. They said that when you got to the point that you could laugh about things, they no longer had the power to hurt you.

  They were wrong.

  “You almost never pissed me off, Ella.” His tone was stern. As though if he spoke firmly enough, he could make what he said true.

  His memory was skewed, but correcting him wasn’t worth dredging up old pains.

  “I was tense with you, I know that. But it wasn’t because of anything you did. It was all me. I should never have let myself believe that I could live a normal life as though my childhood hadn’t happened.”

  She felt the blood drain from her face. Afraid.

  “Why?” she asked, understanding neither his sudden openness, nor her fear.

  “Because I knew I couldn’t be the husband you needed me to be. The husband you deserved. And then, when the baby was there, a part of you, but coming from me...I realized what I was doing to him. Or risking doing to him...”

  “Maybe you should have spent less time judging yourself and trusting me to be the judge of what I needed.” She didn’t mention the baby.

  His rejection of their child, after all those years of trying, had been her breaking point.

  “You deny that you were hurt by my...reticence?”

  She supposed, if they were going to work together to help Jeff and Chloe, they had to do this. Now that enough time had passed and they could discuss things rationally. Without letting emotion get in the way. Because the heat between them was long gone.

  “I don’t deny that.”

  They walked. Passed people along the way. She couldn’t have identified a single one of them.

  “You needed something from me emotionally that I don’t have in me to give.”

  “You had it when we met in college. And during the first few years of our marriage. Through all of the disappointments...”

  Those first few times they’d tried to get pregnant and hadn’t been able to.

  “I was a kid. I grew up.”

  “You walled yourself off.” She’d thought, at first, that it had been his way of dealing with the constant disappointment. She’d had to steel herself from the worst of the pain, too, in order to be able to try again. It wasn’t until later, when she’d found out she was finally going to have a baby, that she’d realized how far apart they’d grown. When she realized they hadn’t really talked in far too long.

  In some ways, he’d become someone she didn’t know at all.

  Darkness wasn’t far off. She should be chilled. And wasn’t.

  “I am a man who knows his limitations. Who accepts them and is accountable to them. I’m only sorry that I realized it too late. I should never have married you.”

  If there’d been any emotion in his voice, any sign that he missed what they’d had in the beginning, she might have found more to say.

  And she might have been a fool and started to hope that they could have something together again. Because the only limitations Brett had were the ones he put on himself. She’d lived with him long enough to know that.

  And since she was never again going to go through the painful fertility treatments only to have a better-than-average chance of losing her baby, he wouldn’t have to worry about being a father.

  But there was no emotion because Brett was Brett. He was the man his life had shaped him into being. Reticent. Closed off. Capable of seeing a divorce lawyer before he’d even told his pregnant wife he wanted time apart.

  Capable of looking her in the eye and telling her he didn’t want anything to do with the child they’d taken years to conceive...

  She no longer loved him. The road she was traveling down led nowhere...

  Still, just because she was over him didn’t mean that it wouldn’t be nice to know that he had regrets. That she’d meant as much to him as she’d thought she had. Once.

  “If we’re going to help with Jeff and Chloe, we need a plan.” His voice, the practicality of his words, put an end to her wayward thoughts.

  “Okay.” Plans were good. Solid. But how did you make one when people’s lives and hearts were at stake? How did you plan to get someone out of denial?

  Other than change his life so drastically he’d have no choice but to acknowledge he needed help?

  Which was what they’d already done. The drastic life change—Chloe living with her—was in effect.

  And from what she’d gleaned during the little bit she’d heard between Chloe and Brett when she’d returned from the sandbox with Cody, Jeff was still firmly in denial.

  He’d admitted to the fights. Admitted that he’d started them. Because of tension from work. But he had no real idea why Chloe had left.

  “A good plan starts with a goal, and I need to make certain that we’re on the same page here before we go on.”

  That was why he’d wanted her to stay back and talk to him? She was relieved.

  And disappointed, too.

  Which only went to prove that hope died last.

  “Am I to understand that your goal, like mine, is to see Chloe and Jeff back together in a healthy relationship?”

  He sounded like a counselor in a classroom.

  “Yes. Definitely. They love each other. I’ll do anything I can to help them save their marriage. But my primary goal, first and foremost, is to see that both of them get and/or stay h
ealthy.”

  “Agreed.”

  So...good. They shared a common goal. There was something in that.

  “Do you know if Chloe’s had a checkup lately?” he asked.

  “Medical, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  She frowned. Glanced over at him for the first time since they’d set out, but couldn’t make out his expression in the darkening evening. She’d already told him there was no documentation of Jeff’s abuse.

  “Why?”

  Jeff had admitted that the fights were his fault. They were just one step away from him admitting to the escalating physical violence that was accompanying those fights.

  Before it was too late and he did something that would require outside attention. Medical, as well as legal.

  “I just wondered about her overall...stability.”

  “It’s not great, based on everything that’s going on, but Chloe’s not the one we need to worry about. She’s in a position to get help. It’s Jeff who scares me. It’s like, over the years, he’s stretched himself so tightly that now, when something pulls on him, he breaks. And then as soon as it’s over, he goes back to his old self again. And hates himself for breaking.”

  “This is based on what Chloe’s told you.”

  “Yes.” And the bruises she’d seen the day after the last fight when she’d taken her sister-in-law’s phone call and hightailed it to Palm Desert to get her and Cody out of there.

  “You’ve never witnessed this...change in him.”

  “No.”

  Ella wished she had. She might know better how to help her brother if she could see him in action.

  They walked in silence for a minute or two.

  “You didn’t answer my question regarding her medical care.”

  “Why? Did Jeff say something about her being unstable?”

  “Just that she suffered some depression after Cody was born.”

  “Postpartum. Yeah, she did. She took medication for about six weeks and has been fine ever since. Why? What does that have to do with anything? Is Jeff putting this on Chloe? Saying she’s depressed?”

  “He’s looking for explanations,” Brett said.

  “And you? Do you believe him? Is this why you wanted to see Chloe? To judge for yourself if she’s emotionally stable? In one dinner?”

  “I’m not taking sides here, El. I just want a full picture so that I can be of assistance. Come up with a clear plan.”

  Of course. She’d forgotten who she was talking to. The modern Brett, not the emotionally vulnerable man she’d fallen head over heels in love with the day she’d met him. The robot, not the man.

  “Chloe gets regular medical care. I know this because she’d had an appointment the week before she came here to get her birth-control prescription renewed. On top of that, I’m an RN. I live with her. I’d notice if there was anything amiss.”

  “It’s getting late. We’d better turn around.”

  They’d come about half a mile, and darkness had fallen. The sidewalk, however, was lighter than it had been due to the old-fashioned lamp poles that lined it. They turned on automatically at seven o’clock every night, and they’d just come on, bathing them in a kind of boardwalk glow.

  Ella didn’t argue, though. She and Chloe had a movie to watch. And another day off tomorrow to fill with fun things.

  “Our goal, then, is to see Jeff and Chloe in a happy marriage again.”

  She wanted to shake him up. To see if he was shakable. But she avoided the temptation. Jeff respected Brett. He’d listen to him.

  He was the only person she believed could reach her brother, help him see the truth before it was too late.

  Because Chloe was going to go back.

  Ella didn’t kid herself on that one. She was married to Jeff for better or worse. In sickness and in health. She adored the man.

  She needed him.

  Ella just prayed, every day, that she could keep her sister-in-law in Santa Raquel long enough for her brother to get healthy.

  “Yes,” she said. Yes, their goal was to see her brother and his wife in a happy, healthy marriage.

  “Obviously I’m the Jeff part of the plan, and you are the Chloe side. Seeing that Jeff won’t put you in the middle, and he and I are good. And Chloe’s staying with you.”

  “Which Jeff doesn’t know.” She couldn’t have Brett going all solitary man on her and disrespecting Chloe’s choices.

  “I’m not going to tell him, Ella. Not without discussing it with you and Chloe first.”

  She relaxed. One thing anyone could count on with Brett Ackerman was that he kept his word. The value of the Ackerman watermark on any nonprofit organization spoke to the power of Brett’s word.

  He was a good man to the core.

  Remembering that was okay.

  “I intend to keep in close contact with Jeff.”

  To “work” on him, of course. Ella read between the lines of what Brett was saying, because with the Brett of today, that was the only way to understand his true meaning.

  “I think it’s also important that you and I stay in regular contact,” he said.

  “I agree.” Her answer was instantaneous.

  “I also think it would be good if the four of us, you and me and Cody and Chloe, met up another time or two. I stand to gain more with Jeff if I can tell him I know for certain that Chloe is fine, and I can only do that if I know firsthand that what I say is true.”

  “How do we tell him that, let him know that you’ve seen her, without him figuring out where she is?”

  “She has friends in LA. I’m there on business every week. I travel frequently. For all he knows, I saw her in Palm Desert over the weekend. I could arrange to meet up with her anywhere.”

  “What if he asks you where she is?”

  “He won’t. Just like he’s not asking her. He’s respecting her wishes. Again, this is your brother we’re talking about. You know him.”

  He’d shoved his wife into a doorjamb so hard it left a bruise all the way down her back. “And if he does ask?”

  “I’ll tell him the truth. That I agreed not to share that information.”

  Brett had an answer for everything.

  She would do well to remember that.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BRETT HAD ONE more stop to make before he went home for the night. He called Jeff on his way. Assured himself that Jeff was fine, for now. Jeff had had a good day out on the course and was buzzing about some stock that had just taken a larger upswing than he’d predicted, meaning that he was going to have a busy but good week. He was at his computer, working already, when Brett called.

  The conversation was brief. But healthy. Work was the panacea. Brett knew that firsthand. And felt confident that his friend would be perfectly capable of giving his wife some more time to figure out what was going on with her life.

  He was at his mother’s gated community moments later, used his access card to get in through the security gate and made quick work of checking over her place, reading the note she’d left for him—telling him that she didn’t need anything.

  To satisfy himself, he opened the cupboard under the sink. Her trash was all emptied—she wouldn’t even leave him some garbage to dump—and she had a fresh case of water in the refrigerator. Couldn’t leave it for him to carry in from the garage. Not that she wasn’t perfectly capable of lifting a case of water, but it would be nice to be able to do something for her.

  He checked the water-softener salt. The level was good.

  Scribbling a note to her, telling her he loved her—as he did every single week—he was back out again.

  She wouldn’t come home if his car was out front, and he didn’t want to risk finding out what would happen if he broke their agreement to always park out front when he visited so she’d know he was there.

  He’d been tempted, though. He’d actually parked his car on the next block and walked over once, with the intention of waiting inside to confront her, but had turned
around and gone back without entering. Her home was a safe place. But it hadn’t always been. His job, as someone who loved her, was to ensure that it remained a place where she felt safe.

  Which meant that it was a place where she didn’t have to worry about losing control and beating on her son’s chest a second time.

  * * *

  WORK KEPT HIM occupied until ten, at which time he stripped down and took a swim in the heated pool in his backyard. Then it was inside to shower.

  That was the part he should have skipped. A little chlorine left on his skin, or in the bed, wouldn’t have been as damaging as standing beneath the warm spray, his naked skin invigorated and chilled, basking in the purely physical pleasure until the sensation reminded him of other times. Other showers. Ones he hadn’t taken alone.

  A vision of Ella, her long legs naked and wet, came to mind. Waylaying his well-trained thoughts. Steering them off course.

  It was as if he could still smell her from earlier that evening. Knew every nuance of her voice. Felt her heat beside him and heard the click of her sandals on the sidewalk. His penis grew, and he closed his eyes, trying to bring himself back under control.

  He was going to help her. Help Jeff. He really had no other choice. Ella believed Chloe. Because Chloe was the only one talking to her. Jeff didn’t want to put her in the middle.

  Brett had talked to Chloe and to Jeff. He had both sides.

  And he believed Jeff. He also agreed with Ella’s assessment that Chloe could probably benefit from time spent at The Lemonade Stand. The counselors there were superb. And since they all ate, it stood to reason that they’d all run into Chloe some time or other.

  The immediate plan was to help keep Jeff patient any way he could. To give Chloe time to figure out her emotions.

  The success of the plan hinged on three things.

  He had to help.

  He was going to do so without hurting Ella any more.

  And the only way to do that was to make damned certain that they didn’t let this get at all personal.

  * * *

  NORA WAS AT the hospital shortly after Ella arrived on Tuesday. They’d found a bus route that she could take from outside the Stand straight to the hospital, and she’d been doing so every day since.