by Gail Cleare
She couldn’t help noticing his strong arms, brown from a summer of working outside. She had once seen him lift a dining chair up over his head with one hand just as easily as she might lift an umbrella. He was smart and well educated too. Adam could have been a lawyer, a doctor, a corporate executive. But he’d chosen something less glamorous. He did manual labor and had created his own business instead of selling his intellect the way David and her father had done. Adam had chosen what made him happy, and he wasn’t worried about impressing anyone.
He was an inspiration. Nell wanted to choose what made her happy too.
She looked up, and they both smiled. Her thoughts seemed to have merged with his like two halves of a whole. It was a blissful sensation she had only experienced before with her sister.
There was a tightness in Nell’s throat as an idea hit her: she needed to find her own place in the world, a place where she wasn’t just somebody’s wife or somebody’s mother. She could do something that fulfilled her spiritually and intellectually. She didn’t have to run away from her husband and her family to make it happen. She needed to redefine herself and move on to the next stage.
Just as Mary Reilly had done when she created a second life.
Nell still couldn’t guess why Mom decided to handle the details the way she did, but she’d finally forgiven her mother. In this secret place, all three Reilly women had found the gateway to change, each in her own way.
Chapter 36
Bridget ~ 2014
Jake stood in the shadows behind a thick pine tree, watching the cottage again. Bridget saw him there when she brought the dogs out for one last pee after Nell had already gone upstairs. Winston and Lulu didn’t even bother to bark at him. They were used to Jake lurking around in the woods. It had been happening every few weeks since the first night Bridget came to Hartland.
At first, Bridget had been scared, then intrigued. Now she suspected she knew what was going on. He had a pattern. Something happened, it reminded him of the bad old days, and he started drinking. Then he hung around, watching Mary’s house as though the ghosts inside might come out and confront him.
Sometimes she couldn’t figure out what had set him off, but that night, Bridget could guess. Soon as she told him Nell was coming up for the weekend, he started looking funny. His eyes got that wild, terrorized expression. Nell had always disliked him and not without good reason, since it was Jake’s negligence that had led to their mother’s final illness. But Bridget couldn’t hold a grudge. There were too many counts against her for her own bad behavior. Jake was like family to her at that point, and she wanted to help.
She would bet her last dollar there was a bottle in his hand. She thought she saw the moonlight glint off glass when he raised it to his lips.
Bridget brought the dogs back inside, settled them down, and turned out the lights. Then she crept back outside and slipped into the woods. Damned if this is going to go on any longer. It was time for Jake to confront his devils, and Bridget would be standing beside him when he did.
She approached him silently from behind and stopped to watch before making a move. Jake reached into his jeans pocket to pull out a pint bottle of transparent liquor, almost empty, unscrewing the cap and taking a long swig. The breeze brought her the scent of gin. He looked to already be deep in a drunken fog. He hadn’t answered his cell since early in the morning, and no one had been at the farmhouse all day. The back door had been left standing open.
He’d probably been wandering around the neighborhood and watching Mom’s house all day. She could see that his face and arms were covered with scrapes and bruises from banging into things and getting caught in the brambles. He slowly worked his way around the house, making his way through the woods until he was in front of the den then crouched there and peered into the window.
Jake tried to take another swig of gin, but the bottle was apparently empty. He shook it, then he cursed and threw the bottle into the woods, propelling it with all his strength. It smashed into a rock, shattering. He lunged forward and ran straight into a tree limb, hitting his head with a resounding thunk. Reeling back in shock, he blinked and tried to focus, groping around.
Just as Bridget stepped forward to offer help, he ran. She followed cautiously, trying not to trip on vines and rocks in the spotty darkness.
Wheeling around, he crashed through the woods, knocking into trees and ripping through the bushes. A flash of moonlight revealed that his skin was bleeding from multiple scratches and there was a deep gash on his forehead. Black shadows patterned the ground with confusing bars and splotches, transforming the familiar landscape into a frightening maze as Bridget tried to follow him. He seemed disoriented, confused.
Just like he’s lost in his life. Unable to move toward the future or let go of the past and incapable of understanding the present.
When Jake finally passed the giant maple tree and came out into his own backyard, his clothing was ripped and he was limping badly, but he didn’t seem to notice. Bridget saw him stumble up onto his back porch, yank open the screen door, and burst into the kitchen. His foot caught on the threshold, and he tripped, going down hard like a tall tree falling. His head hit the floor with a bang.
She rushed inside and found him passed out on the kitchen floor. Worried about a concussion, she reached for her mobile phone to call an ambulance. Then he roused, tried to get up onto his hands and knees, and vomited. He was dead drunk and smelled terrible.
“Bridg-ah?” he slurred, squinting at her with watery eyes, his mouth dripping blood and vomit. Then he passed out again.
She cleaned up the kitchen floor by mopping around him while he lay there, moving in and out of consciousness. Every time he woke up, he was surprised to see her. She brewed strong coffee and made him drink some. He started ranting incomprehensibly, and then a while later, he roused and crawled into the bathroom. After watching him try to stand in front of the sink and then collapse, she helped him get up again and balance. He turned on the cold water and washed his face then looked up at the mirror with yellow, bloodshot eyes. An ugly wound crossed his forehead, his hair hung down in greasy strands, and he hadn’t shaved in a day or two.
Jake was a mess. His life was a mess. Bridget could tell he was thinking it.
Then he turned his head and stared at the double-edged razor on the side of the sink. Bridget remembered the dark moments when she had considered suicide, when she’d thought about how peaceful it would be when the pain stopped. She appreciated the allure and thought she knew where they stood now. The landscape was familiar. It looked to her as though Jake had hit rock bottom.
What happened next had to be managed carefully. Having been in therapy on and off since high school and being an expert at how to survive self-loathing, Bridget decided to go with her gut.
Bridget picked up the razor, unscrewed it, and removed the blade. She held it in one hand and turned up her other wrist. Seconds passed, as she stood unmoving in the dirty bathroom. He watched her, confusion and panic on his battered face.
“What do you say, Jake? Shall we be losers together? Is it time to check out of this shitty hotel we call life?” The sly smile and demonic glint in her eyes was calculated to scare the crap out of him. It seemed to work.
Jake’s eyes widened as he tried to decide what to do. He reached over toward her, then a sob welled up and escaped his throat. He grabbed her hand and flung the razor blade across the room. It bounced off the ceramic-tile wall and rattled to the floor.
Then Jake hung his head and cried, deep sobs shuddering through his tall frame as the sorrow and desperation ripped out of him. She held him while he slipped down to sit on the toilet lid and held his face in his hands. Jake had surrendered but not without a struggle.
As she watched the pain pass through him like a burning wave of fire, he mumbled through his fingers. “My whole life,” he gasped. “I
t’s total shit. I had so much, and now it’s all gone. I can’t just… forget.”
“Nobody can,” Bridget said. “Life isn’t like that. The best we can do is learn to forgive ourselves.”
They sat on the bathroom floor and leaned against the wall. She told him her theory that life was an unmanageable, unknowable force that flowed along according to its own nature. There was no point in trying to make predictions even if you did manage to catch a glimpse of what was going on behind the scenes.
“So the only smart thing to do is enjoy the good times while they’re here. And know the bad ones are just around the corner. For every up, there’s a down. But for every down, there’s an up that’s coming right along as well. It’s kind of like the stock market.”
When that idea got through to him, something in Jake’s state of mind seemed to shift. “You know, I’m not a religious man,” he said, “but it now occurs to me that there really is something bigger than me and you. It’s not just random. There is a kind of framework behind all this.”
Oddly enough, that seemed to make him feel better. He smiled.
“Maybe if we let life take its course instead of fighting so hard to change things all the time, it will help us face the future,” Bridget said.
Inch by inch, Jake was able to creep forward. It was working for Bridget. The past few months had taught her she could change without an alpha male to tell her who to become. She was turning into herself like the lowly caterpillar that emerged from its chrysalis with radiant wings and a whole new attitude.
Jake reached over and turned on the shower. She went to work on the kitchen a bit more while he stripped off his filthy clothes and stood under the hot spray, letting it pound on him for a long time. Then the water stopped, and Bridget heard him pull back the shower curtain to step out of the tub.
His eyes already looked clearer and more focused when she came back into the steamy room to hand him a fresh cup of coffee. Standing by the sink with a towel wrapped around his waist, he opened the medicine cabinet. He smoothed on some shaving gel, put a new blade in the razor, and used it on his beard.
As Bridget watched, she thought that life still had something good to offer Jake after all those years. Maybe it needed to happen all on its own—no matter what he had done and what he thought he deserved.
It seemed Jake had finally admitted that his only option was to wait and see. Maybe Bridget needed to do the same thing.
Chapter 37
Mary ~ 1969
Ginnie changed the baby’s diaper in the ladies’ bathroom at the church and kept one hand on him while she put the wipes back into the diaper bag. She tossed the dirty diaper into the trash can. It was across the room, but she made the shot with her first try.
Mary laughed. “Looks like you’re getting the hang of it.”
“I sure am. This guy poops every hour of every day, so I get plenty of practice. These new disposable diapers are the greatest.” Ginnie gazed at the baby with a goofy smile on her face. “He is such a doll. I didn’t know I could love anyone this much. Never thought I’d get to have this wonderful experience.”
“I’m so glad, Ginnie. All I ever wanted was for everyone to be happy.” Mary put her arms around Virginia, and they stood for a moment, hugging, while Adam kicked his feet and blew bubbles with his spit.
“Shall we go up? They’re waiting for us.” Ginnie adjusted the antique white-lace gown to cover the baby’s legs. She tucked a little white blanket around him and adjusted her coat. “Thanks again for bringing the christening dress. It’s just perfect.” She smiled at Mary in the bathroom mirror.
“Ginnie, I’m so grateful to you for asking me to come today. I can’t even begin to say. You are a generous, lovely person.” Mary’s eyes clouded with tears. “Oh gosh, now I’m going to cry again.” They both laughed, and Ginnie bounced the baby while Mary blotted under her eyes with a tissue.
“We’re lucky the timing and everything else turned out like it did,” Ginnie said. “This little guy is going to have the best home on earth. He’s absolutely perfect, and I’m thrilled to be his mama.”
“He’s a lucky boy.”
“Yes, he gets to have two mamas who both love him.”
“And he looks just like his daddy, who loves him too.” Mary met Ginnie’s eyes and saw her struggling with apprehension. She put out her hand to hold Ginnie’s arm. “It’s in the past, in another world. It should never have happened, but maybe it was for a reason. Things are completely different now.”
“I know. I believe you, Mary.”
“You’re a good woman, Ginnie. And you’ll be a great mom to our boy.”
They went up the stairs and outside to where Jake and both sets of grandparents were waiting with the pastor, who had just named the baby Adam Patrick Bascomb. Everyone smiled when the two women came through the door and into the wintry landscape. Ginnie wrapped the blankets around Adam a bit tighter.
“Reverend,” Jake said, passing him the camera, “would you snap a few shots for us?”
“Why don’t you stand in the middle?” Ginnie said as she passed the baby to Mary, who moved between Jake and his wife. They all lined up on the neatly shoveled sidewalk in front of the church.
Mary nuzzled Adam’s sweet little head and breathed the hypnotic scent of baby pheromones. Tears came to her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. When the pastor counted to three, she raised her head and smiled.
“He’s a lucky boy,” she said again, “to have you for parents.”
Jake smiled for the second photo and glanced down at her. “He’s lucky to have all of us. Right, Virginia?”
“We all love him.” Ginnie put her arm around Mary’s shoulders. “And we have that important thing in common. We’re a family.”
Everyone smiled together and didn’t blink for the third photo. It seemed like a good omen.
Back at the farmhouse afterward, while Ginnie put the baby to bed, Mary and Jake sat in the parlor, drinking whiskey neat as they had in the old days. They listened to the wood fire snap.
“How are you doing, sweet thing?”
“I’m okay. Emotional day. Gave up my baby in front of God. What would you expect?” Mary stretched her neck, and it crunched. Being around Adam all day had been a sweet joy and sheer torture. She had struggled to manage her conflicted emotions about letting him go, one moment feeling grateful for the wonderful home he would have and, the next, wanting to snatch him up and run away.
“Hard for me to say, since I’m on the receiving end this time.” He leaned forward and threw on another log. Sparks exploded and snapped.
“I don’t know if we’ve done the right thing or what will happen next. I do know that I’m an unmarried woman and my son needs his father. What we did was the obvious answer.” Mary took a sip of whiskey and, on second thought, took another. “So why do I feel so shitty? Am I just being selfish?” It was far too late to back out. She knew she should stop torturing herself and trust in the future. It would all work out for the best, and Thomas was counting on her.
“How are the big wedding plans coming along?” Jake’s voice sounded gruff as though he needed to clear his throat.
“Thomas is still at the hospital out in Tacoma. It will be a while before we set the date. He’s doing well, though, physically. The broken bones are knitting. They just need some time. The psychological trauma takes longer to heal, as you know.”
Jake stared into the fire. “Yeah, we all see spooks at night for a while.”
“I still do sometimes. Those poor boys…”
“Their voices in the back of the truck while we were driving to the hospital. I still hear them.” Jake turned to look at her.
“Oh yes. Their voices. Begging me to save them, to love them.” Mary remembered the boys in her wards at night, calling out for their mothers
and their wives.
“Does your fiancé know what a lucky man he is, Ellie?”
“Knows he’s lucky enough to come back from the dead.” She raised one eyebrow and smiled. “And that’s pretty damn lucky.”
“True, true.” Jake knocked back the last of his whiskey and reached for the bottle. “Do you love him? Glad you decided to stand by your promise to him?”
Mary turned and stared at him, her eyes fierce. “I do love him, Jake. You know I do. That’s never been a secret. And you also know that by the time I found out about the baby coming, it was too late for most options.” She lowered her voice, conscious of Ginnie’s presence upstairs. “You ran right off and got married.”
“I did not run right off.” He frowned and jabbed the logs with the poker, sending sparks flying up the chimney.
“Okay, you strolled off in a leisurely fashion. Do you like that better? Just want to point out that you were married three weeks later.”
“Ellie, I figured no means no. You said, ‘Thomas is back, and I’m promised to him.’ Ginnie and I were an item back before Saigon—you know that.” He lowered his voice, glancing toward the stairs. “I was wounded, flipped out, on doctor drugs. She loves me, and I couldn’t be alone. If I’d have known there was a snowball’s chance for us to be a family…” He took Mary’s hand and held it. “But you told me you were staying with him.” His eyes went blank, then a spark of anger flared.
“Good lord, Jake, my missing fiancé had just reappeared after a horrendous experience. He thought we were still going to get married. How was I supposed to spring it on him right off the bat that while he was dead, I was having a passionate affair with you instead of crying into my pillow every night?”
He looked down and rubbed the back of his head with his hand. “Guess I see your point.”
