Espresso in the Morning

by Dorie Graham

  “Yes, Claire Murphy and her son is Grey.”

  “Well, we all like them, too. So, how can we fix this so you’re not tearing through here like an angry bear and we get that nice lady and her son back as customers?”

  Lucas would have smiled if he weren’t so miserable. “That’s the million-dollar question.” He took another sip of the coffee. “Let me ask you something, Ken. Do I strike you as a guy who wants to save everyone?”

  In answer, Ken chuckled softly. “I’m sorry, Lucas, I don’t mean any disrespect. It’s just a funny question.”

  “Why?” His anger surged again. “My situation is very serious. There’s nothing funny about it.” He shuddered at the thought of losing Claire in a permanent way, the way he’d lost Toby.

  “Again, I apologize, but don’t you see the answer to your question?” He gestured toward the coffee counter, where Ramsey and Stephanie were trying hard to pretend they weren’t intently following the exchange.

  “Haven’t you saved each of us in some way?” Ken asked. “Ramsey is the most obvious, of course, but look at Stephanie. You knew she was on food stamps, living out of her car with her mother when you hired her. I know you didn’t think anyone else knew about that, but word gets around.”

  “I didn’t save you,” Lucas said. “You’ve never needed saving a day in your life.”

  “No?” Ken said, his bushy white eyebrows arching. “I was a grumpy old man, alone and feeling sorry for myself. You saved me from the worst fate of all, a life sentence in my own company.”

  “That’s a stretch,” Lucas said.

  “Maybe,” Ken said. “But I don’t think so. Why do you ask, anyway?”

  Lucas shook his head. “My mother said something to me. She said I always tried to save everyone, because I felt responsible.”

  “That’s interesting. Is it true?”

  “No,” Lucas said. “Why would I feel responsible for anyone else?”

  “Because you love them?”

  The fire crackled as Lucas considered that. “Does loving someone make you automatically feel responsible for them? We can’t control anyone’s actions but our own, so how can we feel responsible?”

  “You’re looking for a logical explanation, but the human heart doesn’t work that way.”

  “Mine certainly doesn’t,” Lucas said. His heart still wanted Claire, even though she was self-destructing and bound to take everyone who loved her with her.

  Did she think she was responsible for whatever had happened to her? Was that why it was so hard for her to face?

  Lucas turned to Ken. “What do you do with a heart that won’t see logic?”

  Ken pursed his lips. “I guess you have to tell it to let go.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  THE NIGHT WAS dark as Claire closed the door to the kickboxing studio and tried to slide the key into the dead bolt. She managed to insert the key, but it refused to turn. As if her day hadn’t been frustrating enough already. At last the bolt slid into place.

  Sighing, she grabbed her purse and gym bag. She was going to be late picking up Grey again.

  There was a sudden movement from the jumble of cars in the parking lot. Claire’s adrenaline surged as a man approached her. She had a flash of the drunk at the car crash, but Lucas wasn’t here now to step in for her.

  She shouldered her bags and hurried toward her car, fumbling with her key fob when she got close enough.

  The numbness spread through her fingers as the man drew closer and she continued trying to unlock the door. The pad of his footsteps echoed through her ears, the sound distorting in her fear.

  At last the lock clicked and she grabbed at the door handle, but her fingers had gone completely numb. She cringed, bracing herself as the man moved alongside her.

  He passed her without a word, continuing up the parking lot to a car parked a few spaces away. She stood gripping her door handle as he got into his car, then left.

  Claire exhaled as she finally opened her door and slipped into her car. As she headed out of the parking lot, she tried to calm her racing heart. She made it to the first light before the tingling in her hands erupted into a shaking so violent she had to clutch the wheel to keep them still.

  * * *

  “WHAT TIME is it?” Grey asked Gram as they sat watching a game show.

  Gram frowned. “Five minutes later than the last time you asked. She’ll be here. Relax.”

  Relax? How was he supposed to do that? Tensions between his mother and his grandmother had always been high, but they’d been near the breaking point since the other night. His nerves couldn’t take another bout.

  Headlights flashed across the curtains behind Gram. Grey popped up and grabbed his jacket and book bag. “Good night, Gram. Thanks for having me. See you Friday.”

  With that he ran out the door. He scooted into the passenger seat before Mom had a chance to exit the vehicle. She didn’t acknowledge his presence, but she backed out of the driveway and headed toward home.

  Grey settled in for the trip to their house. He stared at the stereo volume control. Should he turn the music down? It seemed louder than normal. He shook his head, deciding against it. What difference would it really make? Besides, he was too tired to argue with his mom tonight.

  He stole a glance in her direction. She seemed almost sunken into herself, with her shoulders hunched forward and her knuckles white against the steering wheel. Tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks, though she didn’t make a sound.

  This was even worse than normal. “Mom, are you okay?”

  She drove through a light as it changed from yellow to red and didn’t answer. She just kept driving, through a green light, past a bunch of stores and then a sharp left turn.

  Grey held on to the seat as the centrifugal force pulled him toward the door. “Mom?”

  She shook her head in reply, her eyebrows drawn together and her face creased as though she were in pain, but she remained silent.

  “Mom, you’re scaring me. Please can we stop?” he asked.

  She drove past a gas station and a church. The traffic light before them turned red. Grey closed his eyes tight and braced himself as his pulse pounded in his ears. The car swerved and came to an abrupt stop.

  Breathing hard, Grey opened his eyes. She’d pulled into the parking lot of an office building. Mom’s arms were now wrapped around her middle as she sat, silently crying and rocking herself.

  “Mom, please talk to me. What’s wrong?” Grey asked.

  She seemed to curl further into herself, silent and shaking. Grey forced himself to unbuckle his seat belt and reach for her purse on the floorboard.

  “Who do you want me to call, Mom? Do you want Aunt Becca or Lucas?” Gram was obviously out of the question. “I’m going to use your phone to call Lucas, okay?”

  She continued her rocking as though she hadn’t heard him. Although his hands were shaking, Grey managed to unlock her phone and call Lucas. It seemed to take hours before Lucas answered.

  “Claire?”

  “Lucas, it’s Grey.” Grey’s voice trembled and he made himself slow down. He had to stay calm. One person freaking out right now was enough.

  “Grey? Is everything okay, buddy?”

  “N-no.” He swallowed. He couldn’t stutter like a baby. “Mom’s freaking out. We’re in the car, on the way home from Gram’s. She won’t talk. I don’t know what’s wrong with her. Can you please come?”

  “I’m on my way,” Lucas said. “Do you know what street you’re on?”

  Grey shook his head, and then realized Lucas couldn’t see him. “I don’t know. We passed the grocery store.” He glanced along the street. “There’s a church. It’s—” he strained to read the sign “—St. Anthony’s. We’re in the parking lot next door with a bunch of offices.”

  “That’s good. I think I know where you are,” Lucas said. “Hang tight. I’m on my way. I’m going to take care of your mom, all right, Grey?”

  “All right.” He
glanced again at his mom. “She doesn’t look so good. Is she going to be okay?”

  “I’m going to do everything I can to make her okay,” Lucas said. “Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

  Grey’s throat burned and it was all he could do not to start bawling right then, but he didn’t want Lucas to think he was a baby. “I’ll be fine, but please hurry.”

  He disconnected the call and burst into tears.

  * * *

  THE CONCERN that had filled Lucas since Grey’s call fifteen minutes earlier lessened slightly when he pulled into the parking lot near the church. Claire’s car sat under a light and he could see both of them clearly in the front seats.

  At least they were safe.

  He hurried to the passenger side, where Grey quickly unlocked the door for him. “Hey, buddy,” he said, “how are you doing?”

  “I’m okay,” Grey said, distress etching lines into his young face. “Can you please help my mom? I can’t get her to talk to me.”

  Lucas glanced at Claire and his concern mounted. She sat with her arms wrapped around herself, rocking. The memory of her curled into herself on her knees at the foot of the basement stairs flashed through his mind. That this had happened again while she was driving with Grey in the car terrified him.

  He turned back to Grey. “I’m going to take care of her. Do you think I can drop you off at your aunt’s or your grandmother’s?”

  “I want to stay with you and my mom.” Fresh tears streaked down the boy’s cheeks. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “I know you want to be with your mom.” Lucas bit his lip. He didn’t want to upset Grey more than he already was, but he was also certain Claire wouldn’t want her son to see her like this. And in order to get him to agree to leave her, Lucas needed to help him understand what was happening. He’d deal with any backlash from Claire later.

  “Do you know what post-traumatic stress disorder is?” Lucas asked.

  Grey shook his head. “No, but does my mom have it? Is that what’s wrong with her?”

  “I think so. She needs to see a therapist, so she can get better,” Lucas said.

  “But she won’t go,” Grey insisted. “She keeps saying she wants to handle it her own way.”

  “Well, maybe after tonight that will change. At least, I hope so. All I know is she needs to acknowledge whatever happened to make her this way. And I might have a better chance of getting her to talk to me if we’re alone. Do you understand?”

  Grey shook his head. “No, not really. I don’t get what this thing is, but you mean she can tell you stuff she can’t tell me?”

  “Yes.”

  “But what does she need to tell you?” Grey asked.

  Claire wasn’t going to be happy he’d explained any of this to Grey, but her son was as much a victim of Claire’s disorder as she was. He had a right to know.

  “PTSD is something some people get when they’ve been through trauma,” Lucas said. “I’m going to try to get your mother to tell me about the bad thing or things that happened to her. If she can do that, I hope she’ll be able to talk to someone who can really help her.”

  “Something bad happened to my mom?” Grey’s voice broke on the question.

  “I’m afraid so,” Lucas said.

  “And she doesn’t want me to know about it?”

  “I don’t think she wants you to worry about her or be upset. I’m sorry, but I’m going to do everything I can to help her. I know this is hard for you.”

  Grey nodded. “It’s okay. I just want my mom to get better. I’ll do whatever she needs me to.”

  “Right now she needs you to go to your aunt’s or your grandmother’s,” Lucas said.

  “We just left Gram’s. It isn’t that far. I’ll call her.” Grey picked up Claire’s phone, which had been lying in his lap.

  “Let me get the keys while you do that.” Lucas leaned across the boy to turn off the ignition.

  Claire still sat silently rocking, her eyes closed, tears flowing down her cheeks. Even though his own gut twisted with apprehension, Lucas gave Grey a reassuring smile as the boy got his grandmother on the phone. Lucas held out his hand for the phone, arching his brows in question.

  Grey gave his grandmother a brief explanation, then handed him the phone.

  “Hello,” Lucas said, “This is Lucas Williams.”

  “Hello, Lucas. I’ve heard plenty about you from my grandson. I’m Jan Bradington. I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances. I don’t understand what Grey was trying to tell me. What’s going on with Claire?”

  “She’s...” Lucas glanced at Grey. “She’s having an anxiety attack. She’s probably hit a trigger of some kind and is in the middle of a bad flashback.”

  “An anxiety attack?” she asked. “What are you talking about? Put her on the phone. I want to speak to her.”

  “I’m sorry, she’s not able to talk at the moment,” Lucas said. “Are you familiar with PTSD?”

  “Isn’t that something war veterans get? I can’t imagine what this has to do with my daughter.”

  “I don’t know what caused it in this instance, but any extreme trauma can cause PTSD.” Lucas gritted his teeth. They didn’t have time for all these explanations.

  “Please, can I drop Grey off with you?” he asked. “Can you look after him, while I see what I can do for Claire?”

  “Of course you can bring him by, but you tell that daughter of mine this is not at all amusing.”

  “I assure you she’s in no condition to find anything amusing.”

  “Just tell her to snap out of it. She’s always been one to overdramatize everything,” Jan said.

  Lucas scrubbed his hand through his hair. No wonder Claire didn’t get along with her mother. “Thank you for agreeing to take Grey. Could you please tell me where you are?” He pulled out his phone and added her address to his contacts.

  He thanked her, then disconnected and handed the phone to Grey. “You take this. That way you’ll be able to call me directly if you have any questions while you’re with your grandmother.”

  “Okay, as long as my mom won’t need it.”

  “If she needs a phone when she feels better, she can use mine,” Lucas said.

  “Okay,” Grey said. “Thanks, Lucas, for helping my mom.”

  “You bet. I’m going to get her into my car, and then we’ll drop you at your grandmother’s.”

  Again, Grey nodded. “Lucas?”

  “Yes, Grey?”

  “I’m glad my mom has you to help her.”

  Warmth filled Lucas. Hopefully he’d be some help to Claire. “Me, too, Grey.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  LIGHTS FLASHED IN the darkness. Claire kept her eyes closed against the pain tearing at her skull. Where was she and how had she gotten here? The seat rocked gently. She was in a moving vehicle, and something warm cushioned her left side. The strumming beats of Coldplay filled the air.

  “We’re almost there.” Lucas’s voice, so familiar, calmed the rapid thudding of her heart. “I’m taking you to my house, if that’s okay.”

  She was safe. She was with Lucas. She tried to nod, but the effort overwhelmed her. The car hit a bump and her pulse accelerated again. She clenched her fists. She couldn’t go back to that time, that place of quiet and terror, of the awful weight bearing down on her.

  “Hold on to me,” Lucas said as he threaded her arm through his.

  She gripped his arm, anchoring herself to the feel of him, the notes of the song on the radio. Lucas was the cushion beside her. She relaxed a little against him, breathing in his scent, eradicating that of the other that had seemed so real just moments ago.

  “I’m here with you, sweetheart. Right here and I’m not going anywhere. Can you hear me?”

  She tried to nod, but pain surged through her head. Her entire body ached.... She inhaled again, and then let the breath out slowly, as she’d learned to do to help manage the pain. She’d had another flashback—though th
is one had been too real, too intense, more like another experience than a memory.

  The car stopped, the music ending abruptly. Lucas shifted. “Just relax. I’ll come around for you.”

  She sat slumped in the seat as his warmth left her. Then his hands were on her, gently sliding her toward him.

  He lifted her into his arms. She clung to his neck and nestled against him. For a second, she drifted as though watching him hold her from above.

  “Are you with me, Claire?” he asked. “You don’t have to talk to me until you’re ready. Just listen to my voice. We’ll turn on the stereo and the TV and whatever else you want when we get inside. I just need you to be here with me now, here, where nothing can hurt you.”

  A breeze swept around them as he climbed his porch steps, the cool air reviving her. But then as he stepped through his door with her, she felt uneasy. She had something important to do. She’d been driving....

  Oh, God. “Grey?”

  “He’s okay. I took him to your mother’s—who, by the way, is a real piece of work. I totally get why she hasn’t won any mother-of-the-year awards.”

  She groaned. Besides the ache in her head, the thought of Lucas dealing with her mother sent a wave of discomfort through her. Poor Lucas. What had her mother said to him? What had he told her about why he’d brought Grey back?

  He set her down on a big sofa. She sank into the cushions as he fumbled with his remote control until the television and stereo came to life. Then he sat on the coffee table facing her.

  “Hey,” he said, holding her gaze. “Welcome back.”

  She focused, willing the words from her mouth. “Grey...what...happened? I...was on my way to get him.”

  “You picked him up from your mother’s, but didn’t make it too far after that. He called me from a parking lot a few blocks away.”

  “I...don’t...remember getting...him.” She dropped her head into her hands. Had she really been driving like that—and with Grey in the car?

  She could have killed him, killed them both. The reality of what she’d done hit her hard, making her eyes overflow with fresh tears.