by Laura Abbot
He’d been back a month now. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about Arkansas? About Nell? Picturing her in the library. At home. And tousled and sweet-smelling in a warm bed still rumpled from lovemaking.
On an impulse he picked up his suit jacket and headed to the outer office. “I’ll be gone for a few hours,” he said to his startled secretary as he breezed out the door.
He had some thinking to do in a quiet place.
And he knew Brooke and Nicole would be good listeners.
BEN HADLEY WAVED from the back booth where he sat nursing a cup of coffee. Nell threaded her way between the tables and chairs and then sat down. “Sorry I’m late. I had a frantic morning. More children than I’d counted on showed up for story hour.”
Ben smiled. “Sounds like a good problem to have.” He passed her his menu. “Take your time. Catch your breath. I’ve decided to indulge. Barbecued pork sandwich and fries. My wife would kill me.”
Nell winked over the top of the menu. “My lips are sealed.”
They made small talk about their Thanksgiving plans and the fate of the Razorback football team until the waitress set their food down. Nell sniffed the air. “Hmm. That barbecue smells heavenly.” She appraised the salad in front of her. “Wouldn’t it be nice if lettuce had a tantalizing aroma, too?”
“But don’t you feel virtuous?” Ben asked, teasingly.
“I don’t know that I’d go that far, but my bathroom scales will be proud of me.”
Nell studied Ben as she ate. A man with a ready smile, kind, knowing eyes and years of wisdom he graciously shared. Not only with her. With anyone in need.
Yet she knew his history. It wasn’t pretty. If Ben could rise from the pit of alcoholism, anyone could.
With his napkin, he wiped a trace of barbecue sauce from his lips, then looked straight at her. “How long has it been now since your Brady left?”
She flinched at the your. “Five weeks.”
“Have you had any further episodes like the one with the wine?”
“No, and with God’s help, I won’t. I’ve done quite a bit of thinking, and I realize Brady has to live his own life. When I accused him of being addicted, I meant it as a constructive comment. But I can’t change him. It’s not my place even if I somehow had that power. He’s the only one who can do that.”
“You told me once he had a history of running away.”
Nell set down her fork. “I remember.”
“Do you think he ran away from you this time?”
An interesting question. Nell sat back in the booth and gathered her thoughts. “In part. I blindsided him with news that had to be an awful shock. Truth is, I wasn’t who he thought I was. He was entitled to walk away from me.”
Ben waited. “But?”
“In reality, I think he ran away from himself.”
“Go on.”
“Like all of us, he has issues to resolve, but he doesn’t want to. Is maybe afraid to. After what I said about his being addicted to anger and resentment, if he’d stayed, I’d have been a constant reminder of all that he’s spent years fleeing.”
“Can you live with that?”
Nell reached out and touched the older man’s hand. “I’ll have to, won’t I?”
“What is this doing to you, Nell?”
“I’ll be honest, Ben. That night, before I lived through my last drunk, I thought the world had ended. That losing Brady was going to be insurmountable. But somehow I made it. And I will continue making it. I have to. For Abby, of course. But, more important, for me.”
“You have a lot of people pulling for you.”
“I know that. The Serenity Prayer has never been truer for me. I can’t change what’s happened or who I am. I’ve had to accept that Brady is gone. Now I’m praying for the wisdom to keep my life in balance.” She patted Ben’s hand before withdrawing her own. “Thanks for getting together with me outside the group. We both know I had gotten lax about regular attendance at meetings. That left me without sufficient resources when Brady couldn’t deal with my alcoholism.” She smiled. “I won’t let it happen again.”
“Good,” Ben said, picking up the check and shooing her off when she attempted to pay. He fumbled with his billfold and almost as an aside, tossed out, “What would you do if Brady did come back?”
“I don’t think he will. Not until and unless he deals with his past. I’m not holding my breath.”
After laying down some bills, Ben found her eyes and held his gaze steady. “But if he did?”
Nell’s heart raced, even as she tried to control the impulse. “Oh, Ben, I’d love him with every fiber of my being.”
Ben chuckled. “Then it looks like I better start praying for miracles.”
“Can’t hurt,” Nell murmured as she slid from the booth. But it was too much to ask. She was grateful for her sobriety. She had no right to ask for more.
CARL AND HIS WIFE Jill had invited Brady to dinner. A delicious game hen with plum sauce, risotto, fresh broccoli, chocolate mousse. Hardly bachelor fare. Now, sitting on his host’s patio holding a mug of coffee, Brady should have felt comfortable, relaxed. But the sight of Carl’s and Jill’s easy domesticity, the silent signals they sent practically without knowing, the ways they absently touched each other filled Brady with a loneliness he was powerless to banish.
The autumn sun was setting over the hills, fiery and spectacular. Jill had left to pick up their son from soccer practice. The pungent aroma of Carl’s after-dinner cigar spiced the night air. How many times had he and Brooke enjoyed the Suttons’ hospitality? Sat on this very patio, laughing, telling stories, dreaming big dreams?
Carl blew a puff of smoke into the air, then stretched out his legs. Brady gently sloshed his coffee, then took a small sip, willing it to relax him. It didn’t.
At first, preoccupied, he didn’t take in Carl’s words. Then, like a delayed broadcast, they filtered through his reminiscences. “This isn’t working, is it?”
Brady wanted to pretend he didn’t know what his friend was asking. But he couldn’t. “No,” he said quietly.
“We’ve been friends a long time, Logan. I’ve tried my damnedest to be patient. To wait for you to speak up.” He rolled the cigar between his thumb and third finger. “I want what’s best for you. But you’re gonna have to tell me what that is and somehow I don’t think it’s in California. Not anymore.”
Brady was choked with emotion and his head felt as if it could crack open any time now. “It’s like my whole life is in limbo.”
“Work?”
“I don’t know, Carl. I want to care. Get revved up, you know, like I used to in the old days. And yet…” He trailed off, wishing he could see a clear path, craving normalcy.
Carl took another puff of his cigar, then turned to Brady. “You can’t?”
Brady shrugged impotently. “I’m letting you down. I know that. Hell, I can’t expect you and the others to put up with my whatever-you-want-to-call-it. Midlife crisis, for lack of a better term.”
“You’ve experienced a great loss. We understand that. But at some point—”
“I need to carry my weight.” He paused. “Or sell.” Before, it had been only a vague idea. Now the words were out, lending a resolve that hadn’t been present before.
Carl didn’t seem terribly surprised. “If you sell, what then?”
What then, indeed? “I don’t know.”
“I think it’s time you told me about Nell.”
Brady drank from his mug in an effort to mask the emotions generated by Carl’s unexpected question. What was there to say? “It’s over.”
“Bull!” The word exploded from Carl’s mouth. “You can talk all you want. But I know what I see. What’s the story?”
Brady sighed. What the hell, he might as well get it over with. “She’s a card-carrying member of AA,” he said bitterly.
“So?”
“So? Is that all you have to say?” Brady set down the mug, then leaped to his feet and paced
to the house and back. “My wife and daughter were killed by a drunk and I’m supposed to forget that and take up with an alcoholic?”
“How long has she been in recovery?”
“Six years.”
“Jeez, pal, half the people you know are either borderline alcoholics or in recovery. Are you going to condemn them, too?”
Brady stopped his pacing. “What’s your point?”
Raising the cigar, Carl inhaled its bouquet, apparently considering his answer. “My point? This—you’re sounding pretty damn judgmental to me. Have you never made a mistake, Logan? Give her a break. Holding grudges is exhausting work. Transferring blame is doing a disservice to a lady who just might be the lifeline you need. So what’s the worst thing that could happen?”
“She could start drinking again.”
“Yeah. And you could continue being a self-absorbed, rootless jerk. What’s the difference?”
Brady turned his back, his teeth clenched. First, Nell. Now, Carl. They both seemed to think he thrived on resentment. Slowly he pivoted to face Carl. “Is that what you believe I am?”
Carl shrugged. “If the shoe fits…”
“What is it you think I’m supposed to do? Go ahead, let me have it.”
Carl stubbed out his half-smoked cigar and rose to his feet. He approached and clamped a hand on Brady’s shoulder. “I love ya, buddy. You know that. But you seem determined to self-destruct. Much as I hate to say it, Arkansas was the best thing that’s happened to you since Brooke and Nicole were killed. Your Nell must’ve had some rough times, but it sounds to me as if she’s fought back. Her sobriety record is pretty darn good. Most important, she was enough of a woman to breathe life back into you. That’s rare. If I were you, I’d think twice about walking away from her.”
Brady stared out beyond the patio and the pool, overcome with conflicting emotions. He didn’t like the reflection of himself he’d seen in Carl’s words. “How do I just ignore her alcoholism?”
“You don’t. You hang in there with her, giving her every reason to find joy in life. You love her, dumb-ass. It’s plain as the nose on your face. You act like being an alcoholic is all she is. Sounds as if she’s much more. For starters, the woman you love.”
Brady was speechless. He couldn’t dispute what Carl had said. For one simple reason. Every word he had said rang true.
Carl engulfed him in a bear hug. “Go back to Arkansas, Brady. Go home.”
Jill’s return prevented Brady from blubbering like a baby. He would miss Carl, he realized.
But he had things to do.
WHEN THE PHONE RANG one evening late in October, Nell muted the PBS program she’d been watching and picked up the receiver. When she heard the voice on the other end, her heart sank. Rick. She’d been laboring under the illusion that no news from him was good news. What if he’d called to talk about custody? Would it matter to him that Brady was no longer in the picture?
His tone was more unctuous than usual. “Nell, I hope this is a convenient time. There’s something I need to discuss with you. About Abby.”
Nell could hardly manage a response. “What’s that?”
She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been until she heard his answer and felt her entire body turn to rubber. “I’m afraid it’s not going to work out for Abby to come here next weekend.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“Well, you see, Clarice was able to score some tickets for the big Texas game in Austin.”
“Couldn’t Abby go with you? I know she’d enjoy seeing the campus.”
“I’m not sure that would work. We’ve been invited to go with some friends in their motor home, er, you know. Not exactly a child-friendly environment.”
Understatement of the year, if she knew the type of friends Rick customarily attracted. “Abby will be disappointed,” she said, although she wasn’t at all convinced that was an accurate description of Abby’s likely reaction.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d pass the news on to her. Oh, and tell her we’ll be looking forward to her November visit.”
Oh, no, you don’t! Nell summoned her sweetest, most neutral tone. “You can tell her yourself.” Before Rick could protest, she started for Abby’s room. “She’s right here studying. I’m sure she’ll want to hear the news from you, rather than me.”
“But—”
She didn’t hear the rest of Rick’s protest, because she’d handed the phone to Abby. “Here. It’s your dad.”
Then she beat a hasty retreat. It was high time Rick quit using her as the middleman, assuming she would compensate for his shortcomings. With a shock of recognition, she realized that had been the role she’d always assumed back when she’d thought their marriage was working. She’d been the peace-maker, the one who ran interference for him, smoothed over any problems. Well, she was through with that. She allowed herself a chuckle of satisfaction as she settled back into the sofa. He was on his own now.
The television program had just concluded when Abby came into the room to return the phone. When Nell looked up, she was surprised to find a scowl on her daughter’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t get to go,” Abby said, banging the receiver into the base unit.
Something in her tone alerted Nell. She’d assumed Abby would be relieved. “Would you have enjoyed going to the Texas game with a group of your father’s adult friends?”
Abby stood with one knee bent on the arm of the sofa. “No.”
“Help me, honey. I don’t understand what the problem is.”
Abby twisted the tail of her University of Arkansas T-shirt. “They don’t want me to come.”
“I don’t think that’s it at all,” Nell said, although she wasn’t convinced herself. “This may be a onetime deal.”
“They could’ve stayed home from the stupid game,” Abby persisted stubbornly.
“Yes, I suppose they could.” Nell felt as if she were on shaky ground. It would be all too easy to say the wrong thing.
Abby gave a dramatic shrug. “Oh, well, me and Tonya can mess around this weekend, I guess.”
“Tonya and I,” Nell corrected automatically, sensing there was something important that hadn’t been said. She took hold of Abby’s arm and dragged her down beside her. Abby slouched over, her head hanging. Nell tipped up her chin. “Your dad loves you.”
“Right.” Abby’s eyes burned with resentment.
Out of the blue, it struck Nell. “You’re disappointed.”
“Duh. He’s my dad. I hardly get to see him at all.”
Once that remark would’ve threatened Nell, but now all she could focus on was her daughter’s pain. “It’s been hard for you, hasn’t it? Being without a dad in your life all the time.”
“It’s not your fault. Or his, I guess. But Tonya’s father is so cool. Sometimes I’m really jealous of her, you know?” Her eyes were moist with unshed tears.
“I’m sorry we haven’t talked about this recently. It must be hard on you.”
“I thought for a while that it would be okay. When Brady was here, I mean. He kinda reminded me of Tonya’s dad.”
Nell winced. Was it possible Abby had actually entertained the idea of Brady as a stepfather? No wonder she was upset. She’d been betrayed on every side by the adults in her life. “It’s okay to feel let down. Hurt. But sometimes things don’t turn out the way we’d hoped they would. This is one of those times.”
“I know that. I’m not a kid anymore.”
Nell reached around Abby’s shoulder to draw her near. “I’ve got news for you, kiddo. You’ll still be my child when you’re sixty-five. My grown-up child. That’s the way it works.” She dropped a kiss on Abby’s hair, redolent with the strawberry fragrance of the latest fad shampoo. “But that growing-up part is hard, isn’t it? When you learn that adults have feet of clay, that people don’t always behave the way you’d like and that sometimes they disappoint you big time.”
“Do you think Dad loves me?” Abby asked, her
voice quivering.
“Without a doubt, honey. Without a doubt.”
It was only later when she was getting ready for bed that Nell realized what Rick had not said. Not one word about custody or visitation. Somehow, she now understood, events like football weekends with friends would play an increasingly important role in her ex-husband’s life. He would love Abby, all right. When it was convenient.
BRADY HAD CLEARED his desk, packed up and was finally able to leave California at the end of the week following his conversation with Carl. Although he had contacted his attorney about the repercussions of cashing out of the business, he still had not made a decision about his future—for one simple reason. He couldn’t look ahead until he confronted his past.
He’d spent the hours behind the wheel barreling across the wide-open spaces of Nevada and Utah considering Nell’s and Carl’s judgments of him. For much of his adulthood, he had deliberately compartmentalized his life, dealing with his immediate family and his work and keeping the past locked away behind a barrier constructed of bitterness.
Nell had breached his defenses and Carl had stormed on through. The tight control he’d always exercised over his memories and emotions had slipped away, leaving him vulnerable. And scared. The closer he came to the Colorado border, the more like a lost boy he felt. He didn’t want to go back into that world where his every action had been berated, where no one had bothered to mourn his mother, where he had no place.
But his self-respect demanded it. He had to move on and this step was the key.
He spent the night in Green River, Utah, tossing fitfully, falling asleep sometime after three. He showered, shaved and had breakfast in the motel dining room, wishing all the time he could delay the inevitable.
What would he find in Colorado?
