My Name is Nell

by Laura Abbot

  “Well?” Smiling, Lily looked directly at her, her eyes inquisitive.

  “You didn’t waste much time,” Nell said dryly.

  Stella bristled. “When you didn’t call last night, we were worried. Are you all right?”

  Nell dug her fingernails into the upholstery. Why wouldn’t she be? They would be shocked if she told them just how “all right” she was. We spent the weekend more or less in bed. And it was g-r-e-a-t! She wondered if her mother thought she might have soothed her nerves with the contents of a bottle. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  An unfathomable signal passed between Stella and Lily, and Lily fielded the conversational ball she’d been tossed. “It might have been, um, stressful.” Her sister, the soul of tact.

  “In what way?” Seized by a fit of mischief, Nell decided she wasn’t going to make it easy.

  Lily had the grace to look away. “Well, you know—”

  “What Lily’s trying to say,” Stella interjected, “is that you don’t know Brady very well, and things might’ve…gone wrong.”

  If you only knew. “As a matter of fact, I had a delightful weekend. The lodge was lovely, the food scrumptious. All in all, I had quite a pleasant time.”

  Lily’s shoulders relaxed. “Then you didn’t—”

  “Drink?” Nell took perverse satisfaction in the way both sets of eyes were riveted on her. “No. I didn’t.” With those words, she recognized increasing symptoms of anger. She could rationalize all she wanted about how supportive and helpful they’d been, but how long would it take before they got the message? She was sober, damn it! She wasn’t going to let them get away with such distrust any longer. “Why would you think I would drink? Have I done anything recently to suggest a relapse?”

  “No, but—”

  Nell didn’t wait for her mother to finish. “Then, for God’s sake, why can’t you let me be? I’m not nineteen going to my first house party with a boy. I’m thirty-four, and in full possession of my faculties.”

  Spots of color appeared on Lily’s cheeks. “I’m sorry, Nell.” She looked contrite.

  Sulking, her mother joined in. “I had no idea our concern wasn’t welcome.”

  Nell grimaced. Look where too little sleep and too much worry could get you. Leaning forward, she reached for her mother’s hand. “It’s not unwelcome—” she paused, wondering how to put it “—it’s just sometimes I feel like a specimen under a microscope. I know you’re both acting out of love for me, but you need to quit trying to protect me.”

  Crossing the room, Lily knelt at Nell’s feet and took her hands. “I see what you mean. Maybe we do gang up on you. We love you. The last thing we want to do is hurt you.”

  “I know,” Nell murmured.

  Lily looked up. “So you had a good time, then?”

  Nell included her mother in the smile she pasted on her face. “Yes, I did. A very good time. Brady is a nice man.”

  Stella let out a sigh. “How is Abby doing with all of this?”

  “About as you might expect. It’s threatening to her that I could be interested in someone. We’ve been alone a long time.”

  “That’s only natural, dear. She was just a little girl, but she remembers your drinking. Maybe she’s worried about what would happen if this man hurts you. Maybe she can’t help expecting the worst.”

  “Surely she doesn’t equate the presence of a man in my life with the temptation to drink?”

  Nell crumpled in the face of her mother’s implication. She had laid a heavy burden on Abby. Instead of dissipating, had her daughter’s concerns only deepened over the years?

  She closed her eyes in a vain attempt to erase the picture forming in her brain—Rick’s humiliating accusations, the cold, snowy night, the fear in six-year-old Abby’s screams, the icy blur that was the road in front of her car, the warmth of the alcohol zinging through her veins. Oh, God, did the struggle ever get easier?

  Her stomach knotted, and it was taking every last iota of will not to head directly for the nearest liquor store. The irony of it. Her mother and sister had come out of concern and love to check on her, and that very act of concern, had sent her mind down that dangerous spiral from which there were few avenues of escape.

  “Nell?” Lily squeezed her hands.

  “I’m fine. Please, quit worrying. I can handle whatever happens.” She trembled with sudden doubt.

  Stella stood, then moved closer and placed a hand on Nell’s shoulder. “I’m sure you can, darling.”

  But uncertainty lingered in her voice.

  After they left, Nell went outside and tried to calm her ragged emotions by concentrating on the beautiful day as she watered her newly planted chrysanthemums. But no good intentions could keep her mind off Brady. Or off Abby and what would be best for the two of them.

  The unwelcome question battered her. Could she really handle whatever happened? She was falling in love with a man scarred by a past he refused to speak about. A man who had warned her he liked the fact she made no demands on him. A man perhaps incapable of commitment.

  Yet this same man had awakened her to the knowledge that she could be responsive, desirable. Even beautiful. She smiled wistfully, remembering.

  She had been wrong that evening when she’d said being with Brady was like starting fresh. She could never start fresh. Brady had understood about Rick, about her hurt. But would he understand when, at last, she told him the truth? There would be no way to prepare him for the words “My name is Nell and I am an alcoholic.”

  FIRST THING AFTER he and Carl got back to the condo after tramping the land Monday, Brady ordered flowers delivered to Nell. Not roses. That was predictable. No. A bird-of-paradise with a card that read Like this flower, you are one-of-a-kind beautiful.

  He and Carl had just time to eat a quick dinner of Memphis-style barbecued ribs before he took his partner to the airport, where an insistent Carl had stood by while Brady purchased his own ticket for a Thursday flight to San Francisco. He owed Carl that much. The man had been more than patient. Although the money the company had been making these past months meant little to Brady, he could no longer afford to be so cavalier about his responsibilities to L&S TechWare.

  When he returned home after sitting at the airport discussing business with Carl until he had to go through security, Brady called Buzz Valentine and asked him to get the paperwork ready for taking out an option on the Beaver Lake property. Earlier Carl had asked him if he was sure he knew what he was doing. Brady had laughed, shocked to discover that, indeed, he was sure, the first thing about which he could make that claim since the accident.

  Next he called Nell and invited himself over. He wanted to explain in person about his California trip and his decision to go ahead with the development. Her voice rippled with pleasure when she thanked him for the bird-of-paradise. She suggested he wait until after nine to visit since she would be helping Abby with a school project until then.

  When Brady put down the receiver, he found himself wandering through the condo, a vague sense of dissatisfaction marring an otherwise perfect day. What was bugging him?

  He pictured Nell and Abby bent over the dining room table, newspapers, popsicle sticks, glue and pipe cleaners spread over the surface. His gut churned. God, the fort. As if suddenly winded, he sank into a chair. Giggles, smears of brown paint, Nicole’s blond head bent, her concentration intense as she formed the stockade fence. Brooke coming into the room with her contribution, a tiny American flag and a colorful cavalry guidon she’d stitched. It was one of those rare nights when Brady was home, when he’d brought a huge grin to Nicole’s face by offering to help.

  Abby. Sooner or later if he continued his relationship with Nell, he’d have to face his conflicted feelings about her daughter. She was part of Nell, as Nicole had been part of him. Maybe if it weren’t for the uncanny resemblance, their being nearly the same age, he could handle it.

  He groaned. He wanted Nell. Could maybe even consider commitment. But Abby?
She was part of the package and deserved his unconditional affection and acceptance, but he didn’t know if he would ever be ready to claim another child as his.

  California. He didn’t want to go. Wanted to avoid the inevitable onslaught of memories and emotions. God, just when life had seemed, at last, to hold promise, reality was grounding him with a vengeance.

  He didn’t know how long he sat there lost in thought, but when he looked up it was nearly nine. He ran a hand through his hair. Maybe Nell could restore the elusive peace he’d experienced with her this weekend.

  But that was asking a lot of her.

  “HE’S HERE AGAIN,” Abby hissed into the phone. “You’d think a whole weekend would’ve been enough.”

  “That’s kinda gross when you think about it,” Tonya said.

  “What?” Abby rolled over on her bed, then stuffed a fat feather pillow beneath her chest.

  “You know. The weekend. I mean, like, uh, do you think they did the big nasty?”

  Abby clutched the phone, afraid she might puke. It was bad enough she’d asked herself that question, but to hear it come out of Tonya’s mouth was disgusting. “Jeez, Tonya, that’s sick.”

  “Well, ex-scuze me, but think about it for a minute. Why else would they go away for a weekend? Especially one when you were in Dallas?”

  Abby didn’t want to admit it, but she’d had the same thoughts. “I dunno,” she mumbled, then added, “but I don’t like it.”

  “Well, maybe you could go live with your dad.”

  “Not in my lifetime.” Abby knew Tonya was just trying to be helpful, but the idea of being holed up with Clarice for any length of time was something she didn’t even want to think about. Besides, maybe her mother wasn’t so hot on this guy after spending a weekend with him. But, then, what was he doing here tonight and why had her mother looked so happy? Crap.

  “How was your weekend?” Tonya asked. “I didn’t get a chance at school to hear about it.”

  “Boring. Like always. The big woo this time was going to a Cowboys’ game.” Abby wouldn’t admit that the only thing that had made the outing bearable was that she could tell Alan about it. And she had. After sixth period. He’d given her this big, sexy smile and told her he thought it was cool she liked football.

  “That could be okay, I guess.” Tonya hesitated and Abby could hear a GameBoy bleeping in the background on the other end of the line. “Did you get home without a visit from our crimson friend?”

  Abby flopped over on her back and stared at the ceiling. “Is something wrong with me, Tonya? I mean practically everyone I know has started.”

  “What does your mom say?”

  “That it’s normal for it to vary with different girls. But I guess I’d rather be weird than have it start in Dallas.” She cast around for a change of subject. She was tired of looking in the mirror every morning wondering if this was the day. “I told Dad about Brady.”

  “You did? What’d he say?”

  “He frowned and asked me if I was all right with that.”

  “And you said?”

  “I lied and told him I was happy Mom had a boyfriend.” Abby remembered the skeptical expression on her dad’s face. “I think he knew I wasn’t telling the truth.”

  “What are they doing now?”

  “Who?”

  “Your mom and that guy. Is he still there?”

  Abby rolled off the bed, tiptoed to the window, parted the blinds and spotted the Escalade parked in the driveway. “Oh, yeah.” She glanced at her alarm clock. “Jeez, it’s almost eleven.”

  “Maybe they’re like, you know, in love.”

  Abby’s throat was raw with unshed tears. “Yeah, maybe. Look, Tonya, I still gotta study the vocab words for science. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Before Tonya could say anything further, Abby clicked off the phone.

  What was the matter with her? She swiped at her eyes. These days every little thing made her cry.

  But Brady Logan was no little thing.

  BRADY SHOOK HIS HEAD, baffled about how the conversation could have taken such an unpleasant turn. Up to this point, everything had gone smoothly. He’d shared his excitement with Nell over going ahead with preliminary steps to develop the resort and conference center. Even though she’d gripped his hand more tightly when he explained about returning to California for a few days, she’d understood that it was time he shouldered his responsibilities. He’d reassured her that he would be coming back, that he would be spending most of the next few months right here in Fayetteville. So where had things gone wrong?

  One little question, that’s where. Do you always run away from your problems?

  They’d been talking about his “sabbatical” from work and somehow the conversation had segued, once again, to his distant past. To Colorado. “Why haven’t you ever been back?” she’d asked.

  So he’d told her he’d left right before his high-school graduation. Nothing about the way his father had betrayed his mother’s memory or about that last violent argument. That’s when she’d asked the question, accused him of running away from his problems.

  All he could do was stare at her. “Is that what you think?”

  She sat facing him on the sofa, her feet drawn up beneath her skirt. “I think you’re a sensitive, kind man who will never be free until you face your past.”

  “Who appointed you counselor?” He hated the bitterness lacing every word, but, damn it, she was getting too close.

  “Is that how it seems?” She hesitated, studying his expression. “I thought we cared enough to begin sharing with each other. That the weekend meant something—”

  “It did!”

  “But there is a point, Brady, where you shut down. It’s as if you only have part of yourself to give. As if you have erected walls you won’t permit anyone to breach.”

  “I can’t talk about it, Nell. You’ll just have to understand that. I’ve spent years trying to move beyond the anger and hurt I experienced. Nothing good could come out of revisiting that time.”

  “I see.”

  “You’ll have to take me as I am. Like it or not.”

  He longed to touch her, to reassure her, but he owed her this time of reflection. She sat, self-contained, studying her hands, clasped in her lap. He could hear every beat of his heart, every tick of the wall clock.

  At last she looked up. “You’ve made me very happy,” she said huskily, “been tender and gentle with me. And now you’re asking me to give you your space.” She laid a soft hand on his cheek. “It’s the least I can do.”

  He pulled her into an embrace, then kissed the top of her head. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Me, too, you,” she murmured.

  “I can’t make any promises, yet,” he whispered.

  “I know.”

  “I wish I could show you right now how much you mean to me.”

  “Abby—”

  “—wouldn’t approve.”

  She nuzzled his neck. “Are we wicked?”

  He chuckled. “I hope so.”

  Then he kissed her, again and again. Wanting to prolong the moment. Wishing he didn’t have to leave. Wondering if he could possibly be falling in love again.

  IT WAS A STROKE OF LUCK when Ben Hadley came into the library Tuesday afternoon. Nell had been intending to call him. It was time, past time, to talk with him about the topsy-turvy direction her emotional life was taking and to admit she’d done more thinking about a drink in the past few weeks than she had in many months. She recognized the danger signs and they scared her.

  Addictions served to define identity for some, so it was all too easy to cling to them, to nourish them. To excuse one’s actions because of them. But if ever there was a time she needed to be responsible for herself and for Abby, it was now.

  She approached Ben and asked if he had a few minutes. When he allowed that he did, she ushered him into her office and closed the door.

  He took the seat across the desk from her. “Something bothering you,
Nell?”

  She explained to him how important Brady was becoming to her, even about their weekend and how he’d restored her faith in her femininity. “I don’t want to hurt Abby in the process, but—”

  “You have needs of your own,” he finished for her. “Do you love this man?”

  “I think I do, but there’s a problem.” Then, haltingly, she told him about Brady’s resistance to revealing his past and what she perceived to be an unhealed wound.

  Ben steepled his hands. “He has to tell you when he’s ready. On his timetable.”

  “But what if he never does?”

  Ben smiled, as if he’d seen it all. “He must be carrying a pretty heavy burden. He’ll lay it down when it’s important enough to him to do so.”

  “Meanwhile?”

  “You go on loving him. As he is. If you can.”

  Nell recognized the wisdom of his words. After all, she’d asked her family to love her as she was. And they had, despite the fact that at times their love felt suffocating. She nodded. “I want to.”

  “Good.” Ben made no move to leave, as if he intuited she hadn’t finished.

  “There’s one more thing.” She grasped the arms of her chair for support. “I…I haven’t told him.”

  Ben cocked his head in question. “Why is that?”

  Her mouth felt dry. “I’m afraid.”

  “So honesty is only a one-way street?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You want his whole story, but you’re unwilling to risk yours.”

  “We both fear rejection, is that it?”

  Ben waited, saying nothing, letting the truth sink in. After a moment he said, “And, more than once, you’ve thought about a drink, haven’t you?”

  “How did you know?”

  “I’m well acquainted with fear, Nell.”

  “I’ve resisted.”

  “I thought so. You know you don’t have to go through this alone.”

  “Thanks to AA, I do know. I’m trying really hard.”