Reconcilable Differences: A 'Having It All' Novel

by Clarke Scott, M A

Simon Sharpe! Kate’s breath stuck and her heart pounded in her tight chest. An explosion of disparate thoughts and feelings crashed around in her head, a chorus of dissonant voices. She darted an anxious glance at the others in the room, but no. They didn’t know, they couldn’t know who he was. To her. Pull yourself together, Kate.

  “…em…”

  Simon Sharpe! Simon! No. Her stomach lurched. Perspiration blossomed on her brow, upper lip, palms — everywhere. She tensed against the hard leather seat of her chair, wishing she could run and hide.

  Kate heard Sharon speaking, circumventing Eli, who was already half out of his chair. She grinned at Simon like a Cheshire cat. “–pleasant surprise,” she cooed.

  He lifted one side of his mouth and his left eyebrow, an unruly wing, the only elements of asymmetry in an otherwise even and striking face and addressed the room. “Simon Sharpe. How do you do?”

  “Did David—?” blurted Eli.

  Simon faced Eli, rested a hand on his shoulder and took Eli’s hand, almost more a caress than a handshake. “I’m sorry to catch you off guard, Mr. Benjamin. My colleague, David Broadbent,” he explained to the room at large, “was suddenly called away, and asked me to step in this morning. We tried to reach you without success. I’ve been fully briefed.”

  “Hey, dude.” Eli shook his hand, shrugged and flopped back into his chair.

  “Simon, delightful,” Sharon said. “You’ve met Eli. And this is D’arcy Duchamp, my client, and Kathryn O’Day, our mediator.”

  Simon Sharpe visibly flinched. His eyes darted around to acknowledge Sharon’s introductions, then sprang back. His gaze locked on Kate’s face, curious, squinting. “You’re the mediator?”

  She was staring. Kate took a deep ragged breath and discretely wiped her damp palms on the legs of her trousers, forced herself to rise from her chair with an outer appearance of calm and control that she didn't feel. Like an automaton, she turned and took two stiff steps toward him as he approached. Her mind whirled. I have to take the offensive. He's late. He's unexpected. He's making me uncomfortable. What do I say to him? She raised her gaze to his chin, attempting to swallow the cotton stuffed into her dry throat.

  “Yes. Mr. Sharpe... at last." She took another reluctant step as though she were trudging to the electric chair. Should she pretend they’d never met or acknowledge that they knew each other? Play it down, then own up later? "How… nice to… meet you… again. Please take a seat. We’d like to begin." Gathering her courage, she forced herself to meet his penetrating blue eyes with her own, revealing nothing, she hoped, of her inner turmoil. She almost succeeded. Her heart thumped violently in her chest as she gaped at his familiar face. That beloved face.

  "Kate?" he said, his voice a strangled whisper. He didn’t move toward a chair.

  "You know each other?" Sharon asked.

  Did they ever. “Yes. We knew each other… as students… years ago," Kate said with a flip of her hand, as though it were nothing.

  He peered at her, his face devoid of expression, his eyes searching her features.

  "Isn't that right? Or am I mistaken?" Kate said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  "Yes, that's true. Excuse my rudeness. I’m surprised to see you after all these years.” He dropped his eyes, scanning down to her feet and up again. "Kate."

  She’d seen his expression metamorphose from bewilderment to a cool blank stare, but not before she saw a flicker of annoyance there. That was no surprise. She was likely the last person on earth he wanted to see, let alone work with. However passionate their youthful affair had been, he clearly remembered, as she did, its sordid ending.

  Her ribs tightened like a clamp around her lungs, squeezing. Warning. Stop it!

  He couldn't possibly know how he'd broken her fragile heart when he dumped her, or that her unrequited love for him had grown into a malignant obsession that was nearly her undoing. That was her dirty little secret.

  What the hell am I going to do? She reached out her trembling hand, petrified at the effect his touch would have on her. “Likewise,” she murmured.

  He inclined his head and gave her hand a gentle but masculine shake. Did his grip linger overlong, or had time slowed down? All her nerve endings zinged with the electrical knowledge of him, his skin touching her skin, and she could not take her eyes off their joined hands or form another coherent thought. A great weight on her chest seemed to be crushing the air out of her. She lifted her shoulders up and swallowed through a throat that seemed to be closing up, stiffening, as though she'd swallowed a bag of rocks. She recognized all the familiar signs of a panic attack, but it had been years. She’d been fine. This can’t be happening to me.

  He squinted at her, a subtle smile curving the taut bow of his lips and she jerked her hand away as though she'd been burnt. He's laughing at me! She was ridiculous, getting all worked up now. This shouldn't matter. But it did. It did.

  It was happening again. The anxiety. She couldn’t trust her own reaction to him. Looking at him made her instantly realize he had the same effect, unwittingly triggering painful memories of her trauma, tangling up her reactions to him. Attraction, obsession and repulsion. She’d thought those days were long past, all of her skeletons buried.

  Simon sat next to Eli.

  Kate sat down and picked up her fountain pen, noticed her hand trembling, and set it down again. She clenched her fists to stop her fingertips from tingling. How could she take notes now? She tried slow Pranayama breathing, shanti-mukti-shanti-mukti, smoothing her brow with nervous fingers while she stared blindly at her notes. She had to find a way to carry on as though the earth hadn't fallen out from under her.

  "Shall we g-get started?" she smiled around the table, trying to meet everyone's eyes. The smile on her face was so tight she was sure it would crack. When she reached Simon, her gaze flitted past. Trickles of moisture tickled her breastbone as they slid down. How could she feel anxious and phony? It’s not right. This was her arena. It was impossible to muster her usual sincerity or enthusiasm when starting a new case. Focus! Be strong!

  Remember why you're here. She adored her work as a mediator. She was able to share her insight and experience with people she could truly help.

  Each new case was an adventure that she relished, just like a crisp, new romance novel; she knew what to expect. She would crack the front cover and meet the principal characters—her clients—in a story that involved misunderstandings, hurt feelings, secrets, and revelations, perhaps even a villain or two to hinder progress. But then there would be love, hopefully enough to pull them through to the happily-ever-after ending that Kate believed everyone deserved. If they were willing to do the work.

  Looking down, she loosened her tight fist, frowning at the red arcs her fingernails had inscribed on the palm of her hand, barely registering the pain. Breath.

  She understood how damaged people were. How this led them to hurt themselves and the ones they loved. She had been that way herself, once.

  This time, D'arcy had filed for divorce, while Eli refused to consider it. Attempts to negotiate at first escalated and then broken down entirely. Neither the lawyers nor the family were getting anywhere, and emotions were incendiary. To Kate, this sounded like a classic case of people not saying what they really wanted to say, or asking for what they wanted. A perfect storm of hurt and betrayal.

  This case, in particular, was special. Nearly ten years had passed since Kate had become a mediator and made a name for herself as a specialist in reconciliation. To commemorate her career accomplishments, the Mediation Roster Society was presenting her with a special award at the annual meeting and banquet early in the new year. The board had asked her to give a presentation when accepting the award, and since this would be her fiftieth case, she'd chosen to make a special study of it. Kate was flattered by the award, but even more proud to be able to share the details of her methods with colleagues. She planned to take careful notes, and in particular, record her own emotional responses and st
rategies. If she could focus. How could she do it now? She had to remember her goal.

  His being here would not interfere with her job. She took a deep, determined breath and hardened her mind, shutting out all awareness of Simon Sharpe.

  "First of all, thank you all for coming. D'arcy and Eli, I know how difficult this must be for you. I want to commend you both on your courage in embarking on a new and different approach to resolving your differences. From conversations I've had with D'arcy and Sharon, I understand that your hope is to sort out your current stalemate regarding a possible reconciliation, versus divorce.”

  She met first D’arcy’s eyes and then Eli’s. D’arcy appeared wary, her pupil’s dilated, poised for fight or flight. Eli compulsively scratched lines on a notepad in front of him. His art a kind of personal armour.

  "Before we go there, I'd like to get to know both of you and your history, and try to apply my expertise to your communication challenges. Our goal here is to get you both on the same page. I am absolutely confident you will be rewarded for your efforts and leave here feeling better about yourselves and each other, whatever you decide is right for you." She intercepted Simon sharing a small smirk and raised eyebrows with Sharon, and scowled. It was bad enough having Sharon to contend with. She'd have to confront them immediately before they poisoned the atmosphere. Damned lawyers.

  Kate much preferred working without them. They tended to make her job as mediator harder. While some showed compassion and professional integrity, others, like Sharon Beckett, balked at the very idea of mediation. Kate shuddered. With luck it would only be for this first session. For so many reasons.

  "Sharon, Mr. Sharpe–"

  "Simon."

  Her breath caught. "Simon. Thank you. I'm sure attending mediation sessions offers you a more passive role than you're used to, but I appreciate your willingness to participate today according to your clients' wishes." Kate lifted her hands, palms out, in a welcoming gesture to the couple in question, consciously keeping her elbows close to her hot, damp body.

  "I want to remind you that you've chosen mediation because of your conflicting objectives. D'arcy, at the moment, still wants a divorce, whereas Eli does not. You two have come here with a goal of seeing if it is possible to reconcile your relationship. Rather than wasting time and money, and making everyone miserable, we're here to get to the bottom of what you both want and why, so you can move forward with consensus."

  She felt like a rookie on her first day, mentally following the protocol in her textbook. "My goal as a mediator is to help you explore your issues and see if it is possible for us to come up with an agreement where we lay out new ways that the two of you will interact. You could think of it as a type of marriage counseling."

  "Now,” Kate met Sharon's gaze first, hoping from previous experience that these words would disarm her. "We need to have a mutually agreed upon set of goals. I'm not talking about material ones, which might be the usual stuff of divorce settlements. This is couple's mediation. It's meant to be different. The way I do it, it's more structured than open-ended marriage counseling."

  Kate scanned the room to check her audience. Simon was leaning back in his chair, elbows on the arms, fingers steepled, watching her intently, an expression on his face that could only signify arrogant disdain. What on earth is he thinking? She tried to ignore a sudden pinch in her ribcage, reminding herself to breath.

  Not a man for rules and schedules, Eli squirmed in his chair. She reeled him back in, remembering that her first responsibility was to put her clients at ease. "How does that sound to you, Eli?"

  Eli's gaze questioned her. "S'okay with me," he replied, shrugging.

  Sharon smirked, her eyes darting to D'arcy, but D'arcy avoided eye contact, remained reserved and placid, seemingly oblivious to all the undercurrents in the room. She instead regarded Kate, awaiting her next comment.

  "Before we go any further, I want to address the purpose of mediation," Kate said, warming to her familiar script. "My role as a mediator is to help you to talk to each other. I am completely neutral and I can't impose a solution on you. I want to help you to find your own solutions. I am not a judge in a courtroom." Struggling to swallow with a parched throat, she offered a reassuring smile, glancing at Sharon and Simon. "My job is to work with you to improve a situation that has become un-workable.”

  Sharon cleared her throat, and Kate glanced at her. “Yes?”

  “Nothing,” she replied, her face pinched.

  "Any negotiation must involve the discussion of substantive issues, of course. But r-relationship issues are at least as important, and until we settle those, we cannot hope to agree on the substantive ones. So we will begin there."

  "Seems to me you're making a big assumption that reconciliation is both possible and advisable for our clients, Kate," interjected Simon quietly.

  Eli's head shot up.

  "There are divorce proceedings underway already,” Simon added.

  She heard the challenge in his voice, saw the contemptuous smile lurking below the surface. She blinked at him. Another sharp pain shot through her ribcage and she sucked in a long slow deep breath while waiting for the aftershock to abate, willing the anxiety attack under control.

  Kate stiffened her spine, raised her brows and continued, "D'arcy and Eli agreed to come to me, Simon. However, I was about to say, you should be aware that my background is crisis counseling and psychology, not the law. My bent, therefore, if you will, is to examine the underlying..." she swallowed, " ... causes of the problem. I am unabashedly a therapeutic or reconciliation mediator. And an optimist." She smiled. "That is my explicit bias."

  "That's fairly unusual, isn't it?" Simon asked.

  She shrugged, again outstretching her hands. "If in the end both parties wish to divorce, that is their choice." She swallowed the thickness in her throat. "At least keep an open mind, for your client's sake."

  "As I trust you will, Kate.”

  She responded with a tight smile and a hard glare. What's up with him? How dare he challenge her?

  "I have complete confidence in your objectivity,” Simon continued.

  Was that sarcasm? "Excellent!" She turned away. "Eli," she said, looking directly into his dark eyes, mirroring his grave expression "You and I haven’t met before today. You weren’t involved in my selection. If you have any concerns, please tell me now. You must feel that your interests are protected." She saw his gaze waver toward Simon, as though tugged away by magnets. Two strangers.

  Simon's eyes narrowed, advertising his suspicion.

  Then Eli's eyes returned to hers, and she felt her magic take effect. So many mediators forgot to be empathetic and warm. He relaxed, a weak smile flickering across his face. She could feel his hopefulness as he nodded almost imperceptibly. She turned her gaze on D'arcy, head inclined, until she nodded too. She was alarmed to see her words had the opposite effect on Simon, who tutted and tossed down his pen with a dismissive and cynical air. Why was he being so contentious? Did he have that much contempt for her still? Who did he think he was coming in here and trying to undermine her credibility? Well, she'd show him. What did he know, anyway, about mediation? About relationships? About her?

  Increasingly flustered, Kate was relieved to hand out consent forms and wait quietly while everyone reviewed and signed them. She hesitated, biting her lip. Conflict of interest was kind of an issue here. Strictly speaking, she had an ethical responsibility to acknowledge any current or previous relationship with the disputants or, she supposed, their lawyers.

  She squinted in Simon's direction, pondering the problem. Fifteen years was a long time. His features, tranquil while he scanned the form, were even more handsome than they had been at nineteen. She felt her pulse race wildly as the memory of him then, how he had made her feel, all that he'd meant to her, invaded her mind, and body, like a creeping virus.

  He glanced up and studied her just as carefully over the bent heads of the others. Her gaze locked briefly with his, and o
ne corner of his sensuous bow-shaped mouth crept upward in secret acknowledgment, as if daring her to tell her clients that they'd in fact been lovers. She panicked, glancing down at her notes, her heartbeat like thunder. Was he mocking her with that sardonic smile? Her breath wouldn't come, and she struggled to draw more air.

  She couldn't do it. She just couldn't make herself do it. She could send them to another mediator, but... so much was riding on this for her. Another perfect case study like this wouldn’t come her way before the end of the year. Would it affect her performance? Her objectivity? She prayed not, but she was in such a flustered state. If neither of them said anything, who would know? Was that wrong? She'd think it over. There'd be time later. Maybe she could get rid of him some other way. Maybe David Broadbent would come back. She grasped at the threads of her thoughts. What was I saying? She stood up and paced the length of the table and back.

  "I--I can assure you all that--that, though I may at times appear to be meandering in my questioning, I am quite purposeful in my methods. We are going on a journey of discovery together, and I do have a map." Kate paused, conscious she was reciting her script too quickly, hoping for a serene countenance to conceal her distress. She'd never felt so lost at sea in her life. Well. Almost never. But she wasn't going there again. She'd gotten over him long ago. There was nothing to worry about.

  She gathered the forms and tapped them briskly on the table, resuming her seat. "I can also assure you that, if you play by my rules, you will both leave here satisfied. Both of you." She looked from D'arcy to Eli and back again. D'arcy’s crisp brow creased with a tiny frown. She couldn't fail to notice Simon's lip curl in disbelief. Annoying man.

  She leveled her gaze at both lawyers, trying to suppress her feelings of skepticism. From past experience, Kate knew she'd have some trouble with Sharon as things got going. Simon's game plan was a complete mystery. What kind of a lawyer had he become, anyway? Was he the cynical, embittered, arrogant man he seemed? They'd better not mess this up for her. It was too important. She would simply have to handle them, like she handled all difficult people. His eyes followed her as she moved.