by Brenda Novak
“Oh, no. Not really. I was just...thinking about it. But I’ve changed my mind.”
“Because I came home?”
“No, because I’d rather save my money.”
“Consider it a Thanksgiving gift—a trade for that great dessert you gave me.”
“You liked it?”
“You bet.”
“Good. I’m putting together a book of your favorite recipes for your next housekeeper. I’ll add that one.”
The idea of her going away left him conflicted. No doubt it would be better for both of them not to spend so much time in the same house. It was a constant battle to keep his thoughts where they needed to be. Not that long ago, he’d wanted her gone, even if it meant foisting her off on someone else. But he didn’t feel that way these days. His life was so much more comfortable now that she’d started taking care of the house and the cooking. Reluctant though he was to admit it, he’d miss her on a personal level, too. “That’d be great.”
There was a slight pause. “Did your mother like it?”
He hated the hope in that question, the desire to please, because she was bound to be disappointed. His mother would never like anything she made. “She hasn’t tried it,” he said. “I got into it early. We haven’t eaten dinner yet.”
She rubbed her palms on her jeans. “So you’re back because...”
He gestured at the racks. He could see row upon row of wine bottles above her head. She stood below him, and he was already quite a bit taller than she was. “I forgot the wine my mother was expecting.”
“Oh. Which one? I’ll grab it for you.”
He told her which pinot grigio he wanted and she brought it to him. He wished he could invite her to dinner. He felt bad taking the wine and abandoning her here, alone, on a major holiday. She didn’t even have her daughter—or a car so she could visit someone. Then there was that heartbreaking conversation with her mother....
“What will you do?” he asked.
“Maybe I’ll take a walk or get in the hot tub.”
That would fill only so many hours. He knew he’d be thinking about her the whole time he was having dinner. “Okay. I hope you...have a nice day.”
“You, too.” She gave him an encouraging wave, one that said he should go and not worry about her. But when he returned that night around eight, he guessed she’d never made it out of the wine cellar. He found her passed out on the stone floor, two empty bottles beside her.
* * *
Someone was shaking her, but Sophia didn’t want to embrace consciousness. Then she’d have to face what she’d done—and she knew it wasn’t good.
Shit...
If only she’d made the AA meeting. She’d used the laptop in Ted’s office to find the closest location, but there wasn’t a meeting within fifteen miles of Whiskey Creek. Without a sponsor, she didn’t even have anyone she could call.
She’d thought of joining AA since moving to Ted’s, but she’d talked herself out of it. She was afraid he’d discover where she was going with such regularity; she’d also been reluctant to leave Alexa home alone at night. And, if she was honest, she’d admit that she’d started to believe she could handle the temptation on her own.
She’d obviously been wrong.
Squinting into the light shed by the single bulb dangling overhead, she peered around her, saw the two empty bottles and groaned. “I screwed up, didn’t I?” she said, her voice deadpan.
“You’ve had a hard day. It wasn’t wise to leave you by yourself. I feel bad about that.”
Ted. Great. Just who she wanted to find her. She saw him looming above her and tried to push away, to get up. She didn’t want to humiliate herself, especially in front of him. But who was she kidding? It was too late to pretend she wasn’t drunk. A sober person didn’t fall asleep on the floor of a wine cellar.
“I tried,” she told him. “I really tried. I hope you believe me. But...the AA meeting was too far away. I couldn’t walk there.”
“AA meeting?” He frowned as if he was...what? Angry? Disappointed? Maybe even disgusted?
She couldn’t be sure but assumed the worst. She deserved the worst for succumbing.
“Are you an alcoholic, Sophia?”
She couldn’t trust her own mouth at the moment. She needed to get away from him as soon as possible.
She lunged for the stairs but staggered and would’ve fallen if he hadn’t caught her.
“Whoa, let me help. You’re moving a bit too fast,” he said, but he did more than steady her. He picked her up in his arms and carried her out of the wine cellar.
“Please don’t tell Alexa,” she mumbled as he put her on the couch. “I don’t want her to know that I...that I messed up. She’s relying on me. And now I’ve let her down.”
He checked his watch, looking concerned. “When will she be home?”
“Tomorrow.”
“That makes it easier.” He let his breath go in a whistle. “You’ll be sober by then.”
“I can’t believe I did this. I’m so mad at myself.” She tried to stand so she could go out to the guesthouse. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about what she might say or do, but he held her back.
“I’ll put on some coffee. Stay right there.”
“I haven’t had a drink in three months,” she told him. “Not one. I made it for ninety-four days. Why’d I blow it?”
“I think the answer to that is pretty clear.”
“It is?”
“You didn’t have any support.”
“But I made it this far.”
He knelt down beside her. “Listen, Sophia. You’ve suffered a setback. That doesn’t mean you’re going to give up the battle. Now that I know what you’re up against, I’ll make sure you have a way to get to the meetings. And see your mom.”
She shook her head. “I can’t see my mom.”
“Why not?”
“Like I told you, she doesn’t even remember me. Having her treat me like a stranger is one of my triggers. In rehab, they told me it’s the loss and disappointment that sets me off. But it’s Thanksgiving. What was I supposed to do—not check on my own mother?”
He smoothed her hair off her forehead as if she were a child. “You did the right thing.”
Now that he was close and she had the opportunity to really study him, she admired the laugh lines at the sides of his eyes. Those lines hadn’t been nearly as marked when they were younger, of course, but she liked them. They added character to his face. “Do you think I’m going to turn out like her?” she asked.
“I don’t see any reason why you would.”
“Skip told me I would. He said that someday I’d be in a padded cell.”
Ted’s expression hardened. “Nice of him to ease your fears like that.”
She smiled at his sarcasm. It felt like they were friends, that he was her only friend.
“What else did he tell you?” he asked.
“The truth.”
“And that is...”
“That I’m a no-good, lazy drunk.”
He grimaced. “Don’t say that! You made it three months, didn’t you? You won’t break down again.”
“I hope not.”
Ted took her hand and toyed with her fingers. “Did he hit you, Sophia?”
Part of her knew this was information she didn’t want him to have, but she could no longer remember why. Skip was gone. She could tell the world; there was nothing he could do about it. And after finding her like this...what more did she have to hide from Ted? “Doesn’t matter. He can’t hurt me now.”
“So he did.”
“All the time.” She showed him her front tooth. “See this? It’s not real. He knocked my real one out. I didn’t even know he was mad! We got home, and he accused
me of coming on to his cousin. I didn’t like the guy, and I tried telling Skip that. But it didn’t matter because his cousin had pulled out a chair for me, and that somehow signified...something. So, out of nowhere, bam!”
“He punched you.”
“Right in the mouth. It felt like he’d used a brick or...or a pipe, something more than his fist. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground with blood pouring from my mouth. He had to lock Alexa out of our bedroom so she wouldn’t see. But we finally told her I fell and hit my mouth and let her in so she could help us find the tooth. It had flown clear across the room.” She laughed because, when she was drinking, she could. Somehow it all seemed fantastical and not quite real, as if she’d been living in a dream world. “I looked so terrible with that big gap. Skip was horrified. Who’d think he was lucky to have me if I looked like an old hag?”
When Ted didn’t laugh with her, she felt her smile wilt.
“That time you came to coffee with a bruise on your cheek—”
“Oh, that’s when he broke my cheekbone.” She indicated her left eye. “But it was almost healed. I covered it with makeup, didn’t think anyone would notice.”
“It was faint, but we noticed.”
“Anyway, that was nothing. It hurt, but not as much as the tooth.”
A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Why didn’t you get help?”
“I tried to once. But—” she shook her head “—that was a mistake. By the time he was finished with me, I couldn’t come out of the house for three weeks.”
He stood up, shoved his hands in his pockets and began to pace. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t get away from him.”
“It was complicated.”
“How?”
“Because I felt like I deserved it.”
“For marrying him in the first place?”
“For everything I’d ever done wrong.” She struggled to articulate because she knew she was slurring her words. “Causing Scott Harris to get into that—” she winced “—that crash when we were in high school. Acting so spoiled and selfish all the time. Disappointing you by...by getting with Skip.”
“So you were letting him punish you.”
“Not only that, I couldn’t leave. I was afraid that if he ever got...got hold of me, I wouldn’t survive it. He said that if I told anyone or tried to leave him, I could kiss Alexa goodbye.” Just the thought of losing Alexa made her so sad, tears trickled down her cheeks. “So even if I did get away, I’d lose my daughter.”
When Ted swore under his breath, she rested an arm over her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at him. She couldn’t tell if he was angry with her for not getting away, or for turning to alcohol. Or if he was angry with Skip. “At least he was gone most of the time.”
She’d already started to drift off when Ted spoke. “I brought you some turkey and other leftovers from dinner. Any chance I can talk you into eating?”
“Not right now, but thanks. I had cereal.” She lifted her arm to peer up at him. “Did you have a nice Thanksgiving?”
He hesitated.
“Did something go wrong?” she asked.
“No, it was fine.”
“And Eve? Did she like it?”
“I think so.”
“She’s a nice person. She knew about my drinking when you asked her that night in the Jacuzzi, but she didn’t tell you. I’ll always be grateful to her for that. She’s someone special. You’re lucky to have her.”
Pivoting, he came back toward her. “Since she’s so much better than you, you mean?”
Squinting, she struggled to bring him into focus. “Well, she does have her life in order while mine’s a complete mess, so...” She giggled, which wasn’t appropriate. On some level she knew that, so she forced herself to stop and when he didn’t respond, she rolled over onto her side. “Are you sorry you hired me?”
“No,” he said. “I’m not sorry.”
“Someone else would’ve been less hassle—and wouldn’t have passed out in your wine cellar.”
“Someone else wouldn’t have been facing your challenges. I know you’re doing the best you can, that you’re trying.”
“I’ll try again tomorrow,” she promised, and this somehow evoked a smile from him.
“I’m sure you will.”
“Did your mom like the pumpkin dessert?”
He cleared his throat. “You asked me that.”
She blinked at him, trying to remember his answer. “Did you tell me?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “In case I didn’t, she loved it. Ate two pieces.”
That made her happy. It was the first thing today that had. “I’m glad,” she said. “That’s nice. I was thinking I’d take a piece to my mom, but...you know what happened to the car.”
“I know.”
“Principal Dixon really ate two pieces?”
“Go to sleep,” he told her and, she couldn’t be sure—maybe she just imagined it—but she thought he bent and kissed her forehead.
26
“Why didn’t you tell me she has a drinking problem?” Ted asked.
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line before Eve answered. “How’d you find out?”
“How do you think? She was here alone all day, on Thanksgiving. Her car was just repossessed and she was trying to cope with her psychotic mother. That doesn’t sound like a recipe for disaster to you?”
“Oh, no. I hope she’s okay....”
He remembered the moment he’d found her lying on the floor. He’d felt such a jolt of panic when he thought she might be injured—or worse. Suicide had crossed his mind, which was why he hadn’t been all that upset when he’d realized it was only alcohol. “She’s fine. She’s sleeping it off. But...I wish I’d known so I could’ve been more prepared.”
“And how would you have prepared?”
“By locking the wine cellar so it wouldn’t turn out to be a booby trap for her!”
“Ted, if she wanted to drink badly enough, she would’ve found a way to get some booze.”
“Without a car? I live five miles out of town. She would’ve had to want it pretty badly.”
“What else did she have to do today? You said she was home alone. She could’ve walked that far.” The tenor of her voice changed. “She might not have made it back, depending on whether she drank on the way home, but...”
He didn’t care to imagine it. At least she was safe. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
“There were a lot of reasons I didn’t tell you.”
“Like...”
“I’d promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t feel it would be fair to break that confidence just because you and I started seeing each other.”
He remembered Alexa’s reaction not too long ago when he’d gone down to the kitchen for a glass of wine—and finally understood it. “We’re not talking about spreading random gossip. She’s my housekeeper! You don’t think I had a right to know that my wine cellar might cause her some serious problems?”
“Last I heard, alcohol addiction isn’t something people are required to reveal on a job application. I figured it didn’t matter as long as it wasn’t affecting her work. She’s had it hard enough since Skip died without me going around blabbing about her personal problems—especially to her employer who didn’t really want to hire her in the first place. From what she told me, alcohol was her only escape. Skip controlled every aspect of her life, wouldn’t even let her have a job. So I wasn’t feeling particularly judgmental. And you can be a very exacting person.”
He sat up. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m judgmental?”
“You’re capable of so much, and you expect others to live up to your standards.”
“I don’t underst
and what Sophia’s addiction has to do with that.”
“Besides the job issue, and whether or not you’d be willing to hire her, I thought that learning she was an alcoholic might change the way you look at her—and at me. I didn’t want that to be the deciding factor in our relationship, didn’t want you to choose me over her just because I’ve never been to rehab. I hoped you’d fall head over heels in love with me just like you once did with her. We all know how you used to feel about her, Ted. How much she meant to you and how long it took you to get over her. If you were going to date me, I wanted it to be because of who I am instead of what she isn’t. Does that make sense?”
“Not entirely,” he grumbled, but it did. He was just hesitant to acknowledge the legitimacy of her concerns. He wasn’t sure that, in the past four weeks, he’d been able to come very close to the target she’d painted for him.
Was he falling in love with her? It didn’t feel like it. He kept telling himself that he had to give their relationship more time, try harder, be more dedicated, stop thinking of Sophia. But he couldn’t order his heart to love one person instead of another. Despite the hurt she’d caused him, it was still Sophia who took his breath away.
“When it comes to me, to us, I don’t want you to rely on some...checklist that has more to do with your head than your heart,” Eve explained. “No girl wants to be a consolation prize.”
“I appreciate what you’re saying,” he told her, but he feared her expectations were set too high. If she hoped to own his heart the way Sophia once had—he couldn’t deliver that.
“You appreciate it?” she said. “That’s your response?”
She’d given him an opportunity to reassure her, and he’d blown it. They’d been sleeping together for a month. He could see how, after that much time, she might be curious as to where he stood on the relationship. But how could he convince her they were heading toward marriage when he felt no closer to it today than the morning after they’d first made love? Just a few minutes ago, it had been all he could do not to carry Sophia to his bed. If she hadn’t been drunk, there was even a chance he might have succumbed.... “I care about you—”
