by Laura Abbot
And that continued to terrify her.
TONYA’S DAD WAS way cool. He’d taken the carload of their friends to McDonald’s after the game and had sat in a booth by himself. Like maybe he wasn’t even with them. Then the boys had come and taken the table across from the girls. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby noticed Alan Voyle elbow one of the guys aside so he could sit directly across the aisle from her. Maybe it didn’t mean anything, but when it happened, Tonya had nudged her and whispered, “See?”
“How about that game?” Alan asked her between bites of his French fries. “Wasn’t Decker awesome?”
Clueless about who Decker was, Abby fumbled for an answer. “Great. I was so nervous when the other team nearly tied us at the end.”
“You like football?”
Like football? She’d never given it any thought except that games were fun times with her friends. “Yes, I mean, sure. I don’t know a whole lot about it, though. You know, the rules and stuff.” She prayed that admission wouldn’t kill her chances with him.
Alan swiveled in the booth to face her. That sexy lock of dark hair fell over his forehead and Abby’s brain turned to mush. “I could teach you. Sometime. If you want.”
Gosh, maybe he did like her. “That’d be great.”
“I could ride my bike to your house Sunday. Maybe we could watch an NFL game and I could explain some stuff.”
McDonald’s was her new favorite place in the world. This booth, special forever. “Sure, that’d be fun.”
“Okay, then,” he grinned, ignoring his buddies who were trying to get his attention. “About two?”
“Fine.” Tonya, who had shamelessly eavesdropped, gripped Abby’s knee in excitement, probably a good thing because if she wasn’t grounded, she could surely fly.
On the way home in the front seat of Tonya’s dad’s van, Abby didn’t say much, still floating in a romantic haze. Alan Voyle was coming to her house. Unbelievable. Finally she mustered her courage and leaned toward Tonya’s dad. “Mr. Larkin, what does ‘NFL’ mean?”
Mr. Larkin seemed surprised she wanted to talk to him, but she was glad she’d asked, because all the way home he explained to her about the leagues and franchises. Maybe she wouldn’t look quite so dumb when Alan came over.
Her euphoria took a nosedive when Mr. Larkin pulled into her driveway—behind that man’s car. She checked the clock on the dash. It was after eleven. What was he still doing at her mother’s?
She should’ve stayed home. It was icky the way her mother put out the good dishes, wore that fancy dress, sprayed that flowery perfume all over herself. Just dinner, she’d said. Not a lifelong commitment. But what if it was? Her dad had remarried. What if her mom did?
Abby murmured a hurried thank-you to Mr. Larkin and a “Call me,” to Tonya before plodding to the front door.
“Abby, is that you?” her mother called.
“Yeah.”
“Come tell us about the game.” Us.
She entered the family room, where her mother and Brady sat on the sofa—close together. She looked at her mother, rosy-cheeked and smiling, then at Brady, handsome in a George Clooney sorta way, yet filling up the room like a sci-fi hulk. Abby caught a whiff of his nauseating woodsy after-shave. The cheeseburger she’d had at McDonald’s revolted in her stomach and all she could think to say was, “What’s he still doing here?”
An irritated frown erased her mother’s smile. “Abby, did you leave your manners at the door?”
“Not really.” Abby knew she was going to say too much, but she couldn’t help herself. “I just wondered. Dinner was over a while ago, right?”
Brady Logan rose to his feet. “I imagine I feel like an intruder to you.”
How did he know that? “Yeah, sorta.”
“Abby? How many times do I have to tell you? Brady is my friend, and I didn’t raise you to treat people so rudely.”
Brady laid a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “I don’t know that she’s as rude as she is truthful.”
Abby looked away. First, she didn’t want to see him touch her mother, but, second, she didn’t know what to make of him. He seemed to understand her better than her mother did. Abby studied the coils of the braided rug beneath her feet. “I’m sorry. I guess I was just surprised.”
“Understandable,” Brady said, glancing at his watch. “And it is late. I should be going.”
Good, Abby breathed.
Her mother shot her a look that clearly said stay here. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
Abby sank onto the arm of the sofa, digging at her cuticles. She could hear whispers, but couldn’t make out the words. Then it was silent. For too long. What was he doing? Kissing her mother good-night? Gross. Then the sound of the door shutting.
When her mother came back into the room, she sat down. Abby folded her arms around herself, totally miserable.
“Brady isn’t going to go away, Abby, so let’s hear it. What’s your problem with him? Us?”
“You like him, huh?”
“Yes, I do. But that doesn’t have to change anything.”
“Change anything? It changes everything. It’s embarrassing.”
“You mean I’m too old?”
Honest to God, Abby didn’t know what she meant, just that everything felt weird. “No, but—”
Her mother’s expression softened. “You’re afraid. I understand. I am, too.”
“You—you are?” That was a new thought.
“I like Brady. A lot. But that doesn’t mean anything has to change between you and me.”
“But what if…he hurts you?”
“You’re asking if I’m strong enough now?”
Abby hung her head. “Yeah.” She couldn’t stand it if her mother started drinking again.
“The truth? I don’t know. I think I am. But how will I ever be sure if I don’t try?”
“Sometimes I’m just so scared.”
“That it’ll happen again?”
Abby nodded, mute.
“Let’s not borrow trouble, honey.”
“Okay.” Abby stood, waved her arms helplessly, then said, “I’m going to bed now.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She started for her bedroom, then, remembering, paused and said, “Mom, is it okay if Alan Voyle comes over Sunday afternoon?”
Her mother’s smile was full of love. “Of course.”
Abby couldn’t wait to get to her room. She had too many things to think about. Her life was nothing but confusion. And Alan was only one part of it.
MONDAY MORNING Nell sought out Ben Hadley following her AA meeting. “Do you have a minute?”
“For you? Always.” He led her to the far corner of the room where several folding chairs were arranged in a semicircle. After they sat down, he lay an age-spotted hand on hers. “Now what can I do for you?”
“I need to talk.”
“Then I’m happy to listen.”
She smiled. So like Ben. He always had a way of letting her figure out things for herself. “I’ve met a man.”
“And?”
“I think I could fall in love with him.”
“And this is bad?”
“There are lots of problems.”
“Like?”
Briefly she told him about Brady’s wife and daughter and his overwhelming grief. “I don’t know if I can take on his problems. Compete with the ghosts.”
“You can’t do either one, but you can be the best, most loving Nell Porter in your power.”
Nell looked into Ben’s wise eyes, and knew he spoke the truth. “Then there’s Abby. She’s not happy about Brady.”
“He threatens her safe little world.”
“Yes. But it’s more than that. She’s afraid something will happen, and I’ll start to drink again.”
“That’s always a possibility.”
She hadn’t wanted to hear him say that. She’d wanted assurance that she was “cured,” even though she knew that was
n’t possible. “I know,” she said quietly, remembering the tailspin she’d gone into after her father’s death. “Emotionally, I feel stable, but that’s today.”
“And tomorrow is always about the ‘what ifs,’ is that it?”
“I’m afraid, Ben.”
“That’s natural.” He eyed her closely. “Have you told him your history?”
“Not yet. I know I have to, but I’ve been dragging my feet. Avoiding, I guess.”
“It would take a pretty big man to overlook your alcoholism, is that what you’re saying?”
She nodded, studying the fingers clenched in her lap.
“Are you worth it?”
She looked up, startled. “What do you mean?”
“Worth his love and approval. It sounds as if you’re trying to talk yourself out of exploring a relationship with this man.” He hesitated, then went on. “When you said earlier you could fall in love with him, I asked you if that was bad? All you did then was give me a laundry list of impediments. Now, I’m asking you another question. When you’re with him, does it feel bad?”
She was aware of a sudden calm in the room. While they had been talking, the others had left and his question echoed in the silence. She didn’t answer right away, recalling Brady’s comforting embrace, his vulnerable heart. “No,” she whispered.
“Trust the Twelve Steps. You have so much to give, Nell. If you live in fear of hurt, you’ll never fully live.”
She stood, then placed a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Thanks, Ben. You’ve given me lots to think about.”
Later at her car, she stopped, took a cleansing breath and looked around. The crisp morning air held the first hint of fall, and a few trees showed early signs of color. Abby’s moods, like the leaves, were as changeable as the seasons. Yesterday had been better, thanks to Alan Voyle. Giddy with excitement, Abby hadn’t asked her once about Brady. The two teens had huddled in the family room, a football game the focus of their attention. Nell couldn’t help overhearing Abby with Alan at the door when he left. “Thanks,” she’d said. “I just love football.”
Nell smiled at the memory. Since when had her daughter had any interest in football? Maybe Alan was just the distraction Abby needed. Nell hoped so because she would certainly welcome relinquishing the spotlight.
TUESDAY WAS OVERCAST, but the land was green under the pewter skies. Occasional wisps of fog flirted with the treetops. The rocky soil beneath Brady’s feet was still damp from an early-morning shower, which had intensified the mossy fragrance of the woods. Brady shouldered his pack and, holding the folded plat map in one hand, strode through the thick brush toward the shoreline. Bisecting a portion of the property was a steep ravine through which a spring-fed stream trickled. Brady studied the terrain, wondering whether it would be necessary to build a bridge to access the lodge site or whether the route Buzz had taken around the ravine would be more practical.
Yesterday he’d stopped by the local Chamber of Commerce to inquire about conventions, conferences and hotel occupancy figures. He’d been pleased with what he’d heard. He didn’t want to tip his hand too soon, but every new piece of data served to make him more optimistic about his vision. Tomorrow he had appointments with representatives of two of the major industries headquartered in northwest Arkansas to get a reading on their conference needs.
He paused to caress the lichen-covered trunk of a towering walnut tree, wondering how long it had stood in this spot. He tried to temper his enthusiasm. Plenty ought to deter him from this undertaking. His lack of experience in the hospitality industry, his obligations in California, the financial risk involved. Yet with every step he took through the undergrowth, he knew this was what he was supposed to be doing.
And all because of what a stranger had written in a B-and-B journal.
He didn’t believe in miracles. Not after what had happened to Brooke and Nicole. Yet he had the uncanny sense that Brooke was somehow orchestrating his future.
Listen to yourself. You’re talking supernatural bullshit. But how else to explain the improbable string of circumstances that had brought him to Arkansas? And to Nell.
The snap of a twig alerted him, and he turned around. There in a small clearing stood a doe with her fawn. When she raised her head to study him in that instant before she darted off through the trees, her big, soft eyes reminded him of Nell’s trusting look just before she’d kissed him Friday evening.
She’d given herself to the kiss freely. And her embrace had been as welcome as a warm shower after a grueling workout. Even as he admitted how deep was his need, he cursed himself. He swung savagely at a limb impeding his way. Could he make a new beginning when he was still riddled with guilt? He certainly didn’t deserve a second chance.
But he’d promised Nell. He wouldn’t hurt her.
Whether he deserved it or not, for the first time in months, he was no longer alone.
“OH, BRADY, I don’t know.” Excitement and fear warred in Nell. She clasped the phone in hands suddenly clammy. It was too soon.
“It would just be for two nights. I’d really like the company.”
Brady had told her about his tentative plans for developing a conference center on the lake, but she hadn’t been prepared for this—an invitation to accompany him to Timberview Lodge and Resort on a lake in Missouri. It was a research trip, he’d said.
Would her mother caution her, concerned with the opinions of outsiders? Would Lily encourage her? And Abby? Dear God, she’d be horrified. Nell shook her head in a liberating kind of defiance. This was her decision and hers alone. Was she prepared to go through life acceding to the wishes of others? The answer was “no.”
But all she could picture was a cozy double bed in a faux-rustic cabin, complete with a stone chimney and fireplace.
“Nell? You’re not saying anything.”
“Uh, Abby goes to Dallas this coming weekend.”
“That suits me, providing I can get reservations.”
“September shouldn’t be a problem.” Her quivering body and rampaging imagination were not to be denied. Despite her surfacing insecurities and fears, she was actually encouraging him.
“About the quarters? I’ll try to get us a two-bedroom cabin.”
Never had the words two-bedroom been filled with such music. Yet in the midst of the deep breath she was finally able to draw, there was a hitch of regret. “That sounds perfect. Thank you.”
After he told her he’d call back with the particulars, they hung up.
And panic set in.
Surely she hadn’t been contemplating…that. They weren’t ready yet. She wasn’t ready. He’d find out what a fraud she was. How useless in bed.
Oh, God. Abby. She’d have to give her a number where she could be reached. There would be questions. Lots of them.
For which she had no answers.
Even for herself.
Then, to her horror, Nell recognized the thirst claiming her body. For the first time in months, every nerve cried out for a drink. For the soothing opiate of vodka—neat.
STELLA JANES SMOOTHED BACK a lock of hair, then leaned across the table of the tea room where she’d met Nell for lunch. “I must say I don’t know what to make of it. Do you really know this man well enough to take off for a…romantic weekend?”
“It’s not like that, Mother. It’s a business trip.”
Her mother raised an eyebrow. “Get real, Nell. I know how the cookie crumbles. Why does he need you if it’s business?”
Nell added sugar to her tea, stalling for time, knowing she was evading the issue. When she looked up, her mother’s expression was more concerned than judgmental. “I’m rationalizing, aren’t I?”
“You said it, dear. Not I.”
“Mother, the truth is…I’m interested in him. And I think maybe he likes me, too.”
“Well, I certainly hope so. But are you, uh, sure you’re ready for—” she waved her fingers airily “—whatever this is?”
Nell’s hea
rt was pounding at jackhammer speed. She leveled her gaze, looked straight at her mother and told the truth. “No. But I’m going to find out.”
“You’ve straightened out your life. Your problems are over. Why risk anything?”
“First of all, my problems will never be over. I will always be an alcoholic.” She noticed her mother wince at her use of the word. “It is very tempting to remain passive. To let events roll past me. But Brady has come into my life. He’s important to me. Of course, I’m afraid. I don’t want to upset my life any more than you want to see me do that. I have you and Lily and Abby, but…maybe that’s not enough. I’ve been lonely. Brady fills that empty spot in my heart.”
Stella covered Nell’s hand. “Oh, honey. If I could only guarantee you wouldn’t get hurt—”
“You can’t, Mom. No one can. This is a step I have to take on my own. Granted, it’s unknown territory. And I won’t lie. The thought of going with Brady this weekend terrifies me so much that, for the first time lately, I craved a drink. But I can’t go through life letting the demon rule me.”
Stella patted Nell’s hand, then withdrew it to wipe away the tears gathering in her eyes. “What about Abby?”
“She won’t like the idea of my being with Brady, but I’m the adult here. If I sublimate my needs totally for hers, neither of us gains.”
“I hope it works out, dear.” Stella sighed. “You need to talk with Abby.”
Nell couldn’t overlook the lines of worry pinching her mother’s brow, nor the generosity of her understanding. “I know. I will.”
“Whatever you do, darling, be happy.”
Nell’s throat closed, filled with huskiness. “I’m trying.” Yet the thought of that first dizzying leap off the cliff of security made the words tremble on her lips.
ABBY LEANED toward the bathroom mirror—horrified. Yuck. There it was—a zit the size of Colorado. Red and crusty and pus-filled. What else could go wrong? She ticked off the calamities in her life. This was her weekend to go visit her dad and Clarice in stupid Dallas. Never mind Alan had asked her to meet him at the high school game and sit with him. She could’ve died when she had to tell him she couldn’t. He probably thought she was the biggest baby in the world, trotting off to Dallas to see Daddy.
