No Longer Needed

by Brenda Grate

  “Yes, but you didn’t say there’s no one I care about more. There’s a big gap between those two phrases.”

  “I’m giving you everything I can, Rick,” she sighed. “Please understand.”

  “All I understand is that I love you. You love me, too, but you seem incapable of accepting that.”

  Connie set her fork on her plate and stared at Rick. “How do you know I love you?”

  “It’s just something I feel. It’s in the way you respond to me. The way you melt when I touch you. If it were just lust, believe me, I’ve felt that too and it isn’t the same.”

  “Then why can’t my brain accept that?”

  Rick shrugged. “Your brain? That’s a mystery I won’t even delve into.”

  “Hey!”

  “I want you, Con. Not your restaurant, not your best-friend trust, and not even your lust—nice as that is. I want your love, all of it.”

  “What if I can’t give it to you?”

  “You can. One day, you will.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Rick smiled and went back to his food, somehow settled, as though they’d come to an agreement.

  Connie didn’t feel the same way. Her thoughts and feelings swirled around in a torrent of confusion.

  “Will you give me time?” she finally asked.

  “All the time you need sweetheart. I love you. Now eat your food.”

  Connie went back to her meal, but barely tasted it.

  “Oh, and by the way,” Rick said, “I’ll run Il Giardino for you while you go on holiday. I’m not going to buy it, though. You know it will be in good hands and you can take as much time as you need.”

  She didn’t know what to say.

  They finished their meal and moved on to lighter topics. Rick’s jokes and playfulness helped Connie relax and enjoy herself again. After their meal, he took her to a movie and then dropped her off at home, not even trying to inveigle an invitation inside.

  As he drove away, Connie watched, wondering if he had been right. Did she love him?

  Time will tell. First, it’s time to book that ticket to Greece. I’ll think about it on the beach. Maybe then my thoughts won’t be in such a muddle.

  Connie smiled to herself as she got ready for bed. She could already feel the sunshine on her skin.

  Chapter 29

  The bright yellow gates across the drive at the end of the lane were chained shut.

  Emma peered through at the large white house beyond and the hair stood up on her neck. It still seemed like a dream to be standing at the gates of her Papous’ house. He had talked about it so many times, how he’d been born in this very house, and his father before him. There was something special about belonging to a family that had been in one spot for so many years.

  Wherever Papous was now, Emma knew he was proud of her.

  Georgia reached around Emma, opened the padlock and swung the gate wide. Emma stepped through, pulling her suitcase along, but it soon got stuck in the gravel, so she left it there. Jen followed and let out a low whistle when she saw the house.

  “It’s really nice, Mom. Much better than I thought it would be.”

  Emma smiled at her daughter. “It is, isn’t it?”

  The front terrace was made of large, pale stone blocks, and the roof, a light wood. The house had been painted white with all the doors and shutters painted a Greek blue, the blue of the sky and the Aegean Sea mixed together. It had always been Emma’s favorite color. She was glad the house had been maintained in the traditional style.

  “You like, Mrs. Emma?”

  “Yes, I like very much,” Emma said with a wide smile.

  The house had extensive grounds with many trees. Three pomegranate trees lined a whitewashed stone wall along the front of the property, with orange trees and an olive tree along the side leading down from the gate. The vegetable garden was tilled, but not planted. Emma imagined Georgia had enough work with her own garden, and Papous probably didn’t leave enough money for more than house maintenance.

  Georgia led them around to the back of the house, and Emma gasped. She hadn’t realized how large the property was when they had first entered the gate, but it backed onto a large orange grove. A small patch of grass with paths and trees were between the house and the orange trees. Emma saw many things she could do with the property, but mostly she thought about all the delicious dishes she could make with the fruit.

  “Papous never told me about the orange groves.”

  “He probably not tell you because most families have trees.” She pointed. “Those are lemons and those, Mandarin oranges.”

  “Really?” Jen asked, shading her eyes to look. “I love oranges.”

  Emma stood speechless at her fortune. Not only did she have a lovely home in Greece that had been well maintained, but she also owned several hundred fruit trees and a gorgeous property. Papous had probably told her about the grounds, but she didn’t remember the details. She’d been so fixated on the house that she hadn’t considered there might be more.

  “Let’s look inside, okay, Mrs. Emma?”

  “Please, just call me Emma.” She pressed Georgia’s hand.

  Jen gave Emma a cynical look that so reminded her of Alan. She wanted to say, “Don’t allow your father to color your view of everything. Sometimes people really are as nice as they seem.”

  Alan had plenty of examples of how people were just waiting to screw over an innocent like her, but Emma didn’t have to listen to that anymore. Maybe Alan’s false health scare would make him a kinder person, but she doubted it.

  Georgia unlocked the large wooden door with Jen on her heels. Emma went back to get her suitcase and dragged it to the door.

  Inside, large beams lined the ceiling and heavy wood furniture filled the living area. A large Turkish rug in the center of the room covered a ceramic-tiled floor. The cool air inside soothed Emma’s skin.

  She tucked her suitcase up against the wall beside the door—she’d decide which room she’d sleep in later—and began to explore the large house. She couldn’t call it the “little” Greek house any longer.

  The sink was a huge chunk of marble with a hole carved out of it. Emma ran her hand along the smooth stone, ancient and beautiful. The kitchen also had a high ceiling with wooden beams, and a large fireplace in the wall opposite the sink. It had at least a three foot by two foot opening, so Emma could imagine roaring fires keeping the kitchen cozy.

  “Does the fireplace work?” Emma asked Georgia who had come to stand beside her.

  “Nai, Nai,” Yes, yes, Georgia said. “Had man clean before you come. It work good. Kalá.”

  “Does it get cold enough for fires?” Emma asked, feeling foolish that she didn’t know more about the country. She’d always thought of Greece as the place of eternal summer.

  Georgia laughed. “Yes, cold. Polý krýo.” She mimed shivering.

  “Really?” Emma had a hard time imagining it being cold when it was thirty-five degrees outside and they hadn’t even gotten to summer yet. Toronto also ranged widely in temperature, getting up to thirty-five degrees in summer and dropping to minus fifteen or minus twenty in winter. She hoped Greece didn’t get that cold.

  “It doesn’t snow here, does it?”

  Georgia smiled. “Yes, sometime, but not many.”

  Putting it out of her mind, Emma went to explore the rest of the house. She ran into Jen in the master bedroom down the hall from the kitchen.

  “Wow, what a gorgeous room,” Emma said as she stepped through the door.

  The ceiling seemed even higher than the kitchen, but probably wasn’t. The room had been painted white with light blue accents. The floor was white stone, a kind Emma had never seen before. A large wooden-framed bed and couches lined two of the walls. There was a dressing table underneath the far window.

  “Yours, right?” Jen asked with her second smile of the day.

  “Yes. Definitely.”

  “That’s okay, I found mine.”


  “Show me.”

  Jen led her to a recessed door, one Emma had missed in the hallway.

  “Isn’t it perfect?” Jen asked.

  The room wasn’t as large as the master, but had just as much charm. It had a loft built into it, with a narrow access staircase along the far wall. Below the stairs was another fireplace, smaller than the kitchen one, which made the room cozy. A couple of chairs and a small table were arranged around the fireplace. It looked like the perfect place to read, although Jen wasn’t a reader. Emma imagined her studying there.

  Emma hadn’t seen Jen use her cell once on the trip, which was usually surgically attached to her ear.

  Jen strode up the stairs and called down to Emma, “Look at this.”

  The bed, a single, was tucked into a hideaway under the sloped ceiling. It was the kind of room Jen would have adored when she was ten. She’d always loved finding a little nook of her own and putting “Keep out!” signs all over it. Things hadn’t changed much.

  “It’s wonderful, honey. I’m so glad you like it. I think it’s perfect for you.”

  “Mrs. Emma?”

  Georgia popped her head in the door. “I go now? I need water garden soon and have dinner. You and Jennifer come eat with me later?”

  “Yes, that would be wonderful.” Emma glanced at her watch. “What time?”

  She knew Greeks ate much later than Canadians normally did.

  “Octo. Eight o’clock, fine?”

  “Okay, eight o’clock it is. We will see you then.” Emma pulled Georgia into a warm hug. She stepped back and smiled at her diminutive neighbor. “Thank you for everything.”

  Georgia patted her face and smiled, then left.

  No thanks were needed.

  Chapter 30

  Emma set out for a walk early the next morning. The orange groves and perfect blue sky beckoned like a siren call. Jen was sleeping and Emma was happy to leave her be. They’d had a good time with Georgia at supper the evening before, but as soon as they arrived home, Jen went back to her morose ways.

  Emma’s blood pressure rose at the thought of Jen’s attitude. Here they were in the most gorgeous place either of them had ever been, with perfect weather and no responsibilities. How could anyone do anything but smile?

  Emma leaned her head back and drew in a large breath of air, letting it out slowly through her nose as Connie had taught her, allowing the anxiety to slip away. She took a few more measured breaths and then felt the smile break out on her face. She didn’t care if anyone saw her and thought she was strange. After all, she came from a completely different culture. They’d just chalk it up to her being Canadian.

  Emma stepped around the splotches of manure in the road. Soon after, she waited while a grizzled shepherd led his flock across the road with a gentle wave and a, “Kalimera” to Emma.

  She returned the greeting. It is a good morning.

  The road soon wound back around and through the middle of the tiny village. People bustled about, men grouped together at outdoor tables enjoying their morning coffee. The bakery doors were wide open, and the smell drew Emma like a magnet. She decided fresh coffee and baked goods would be a perfect breakfast.

  Jen still hadn’t stirred by the time Emma got back to the little house with her purchases. She set out the coffee and food and went to wake her daughter, like entering the lion’s den. Emma felt a momentary pang of guilt for being so hard on her daughter. After all, Emma had raised her, so she must have some responsibility for her behavior.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead.” Emma gave Jen a pat and a kiss on the forehead, just as she’d done when her daughter was tiny. She still smelt the same.

  Jen rolled over, her eyebrows drawn together. “Mmmm?” She squinted up at her mother. “Is it time to get up already?”

  Emma laughed. “I’ve already gone for a nice walk and brought back some fresh coffee and baked goods for breakfast.”

  At that, Jen looked much more interested. “That sounds perfect. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  Emma gave Jen’s leg a pat and got up from the bed. She eyed the descending ladder nervously, but managed to get down without breaking something.

  Emma had just placed a plate of pastries on the table when Jen’s tousled head peeked at her from the hall.

  “We’re alone?” Jen asked, her voice gravelly.

  “Yes.” Emma smiled at the vulnerability of her daughter. Times like this, Emma saw the tiny Jen, not the adult version, like the one who peeked into hers and Alan’s room on Christmas morning, her hopeful expression and longing the only impetus for Emma to drag herself out of bed at six o’clock. Brad would never consider waking his parents. He would park himself by the tree, touching his presents until everyone arrived and he was allowed to open them.

  Emma blinked back the tears and held her hand out to Jen.

  “Come, have some coffee with me.”

  Jen pulled out the chair opposite her mother and sat with a sigh. “I don’t feel like I should be up right now.”

  “You shouldn’t be,” Emma laughed. “It’s bedtime back home.”

  Jen squinted at her. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. There’s a seven-hour time difference.”

  Jen shook her head and dove into her coffee. When she came up for air, she looked more alive. Her daughter had become quite a coffee drinker, and it reminded her how Alan wasn’t civil until after his first cup in the morning.

  “What would you like to do today?” Emma asked.

  Jen shrugged.

  Emma suppressed the automatic irritation. She refused to let her day be ruined this time. “Want to go tour, or go shopping? We need a few things for the house, but it can wait if you want to look around.”

  Jen shrugged again. “Maybe I’ll just hang around the house. You can do what you want.”

  “I’d like to have you with me. After all, we’re here together.”

  Jen scowled at her. “Doesn’t mean we have to be joined at the hip, does it?”

  Emma put her coffee down and took a deep breath.

  “What is going on with you? Are we going to spend the rest of our holiday with your bad attitude along for company? I’ve had enough of it, Jen.”

  “I’m not your little girl anymore, Mother. You can’t tell me what to do.” With the frown and pouty lips, she looked exactly like the little girl she professed not to be.

  “If you stopped acting like a child, I wouldn’t feel the need to correct your behavior. Why won’t you talk to me? You’ve obviously got something that’s really bothering you. Please, honey, please tell me what it is. Even if I can’t help you, it will help to share it.”

  “No, it won’t!” It burst out of Jen and she sat back, as though surprised the words had breached the dam she’d carefully constructed.

  Emma searched Jen’s eyes, careful not to upset the delicate balance she sensed there. She waited for Jen to add more.

  A few moments passed, then Jen spoke. “I don’t want to be a lawyer.”

  Tears filled Emma’s eyes at the endearment. It was the first time since she could remember that Jen had been this vulnerable. Her daughter’s arms crossed tight across her body, as though she might fall apart if she let go. Emma wanted nothing more than to pull Jen into her arms. But she knew her daughter well enough to stay put.

  “It’s okay, honey. You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be.”

  Jen studied her mother’s face, looking surprised at her words. Emma didn’t understand why she would be surprised. Emma had never pushed her children to be or do anything that didn’t fit them. She’d only ever wanted their happiness and fulfillment.

  “Why?” Jen asked.

  “Why what?”

  “Why can’t I just stop?”

  Emma didn’t say anything. She had no idea where Jen was going with her questions, so she waited for her to figure it out and explain.

  There was a crack as Jen leaned forward and banged her head against the solid w
ood table. She looked up at Emma, tears pooling in her big blue eyes and asked again, “Why can’t I stop?”

  “Stop what, baby?” Emma asked, her voice soft, soothing.

  “I can’t stop thinking,” Jen wailed. “The voice, it’s the damn voice that just won’t fucking shut up!” she screamed.

  Fear passed through Emma.

  What does she mean by The Voice?

  “Momma, am I crazy?” Jen’s question chilled Emma.

  “No, darling, you’re not crazy.” Despite her reservations, Emma got up and pulled her chair beside Jen. She took Jen in her arms and held her. Jen froze at first and then melted into her mother’s arms. She sobbed so hard, Emma felt her arms were the only thing keeping her daughter together. If a mother could actually hear her own heart breaking, then Emma heard it.

  “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry I didn’t know you were feeling this way. I’m sorry I failed you.” The words seemed nothing more than pebbles in a vast ocean of pain.

  She held Jen tighter, wishing she could take all the pain into herself and give her daughter back a clean, whole heart. The worst part of all, what Emma knew she would struggle to forgive herself for, was the father she had given her children. He’d been her choice, but her children were the ones who had to live with it.

  Jen lifted her head and wiped at her cheeks with shaky hands. She looked wrung out, vulnerable and much younger than her twenty-three years.

  “I don’t want to be a lawyer, Mom, but if I stop, I’m a failure.”

  “You’re not a failure, Jennifer,” Emma said, patting her daughter’s hair. “You’re the strongest, most successful young woman I know.”

  Jen pushed Emma’s hand away impatiently. “How can you say that? If I were really successful, then I’d be studying right now, rather than running away.”

  “Is that why you’re here? You’re running away?”

  Jen lowered her head. Emma cupped her chin with a hand and tilted Jen’s head up to look into her eyes. She wanted Jen to see that her mother had only love in her eyes, not censure.

  “Don’t you think we all need to run away once in a while?”

  Jen’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”