Maybe her family history was part of what made hooking up with Becky Blumfeld so appealing. Casting her lot in with a nonpracticing Jew alleviated the need to mess with all the typical Christmas trappings. And since she felt no warmth from (or for) her father and her siblings, all the better to steer clear of them altogether and not subject herself to the endless questions she had about why there was such a void between them.
The last time Ellis had seen Nicolas and Anika had been at their father’s funeral, four years earlier. Neither her brother nor her sister had sent so much as a postcard in the intervening four years. Then again, she hadn’t kept the postal service hopping with correspondence to them, either.
So what?
When she and Becky were still together, it didn’t matter that she felt like an only child. She had a home, a family, a future.
That was enough.
Enough for Ellis, but not enough for Becky.
Why hadn’t Becky been able to see that adding a baby to the mix would have ruined everything? Criminy, even having a nine-year-old around was a pain. How many perfectly wonderful kisses—kisses that might have led to all the things Ellis longed to do with Mary—had Natalie interrupted?
Natalie.
Try as she might, Ellis couldn’t help but miss her. Not as much as she missed Mary. Not by a damned sight. But she missed watching the way Natalie interacted with Sam and Swiffer. Missed how she’d unexpectedly throw her arms around Ellis and give her a hug. Missed the quick-witted-bordering-on-cheeky remarks she’d make to her mother. Missed the special look that passed over Mary’s face whenever Mary saw Ellis and Natalie hunkered together over a book or a computer game or Natalie’s homework.
Maybe Becky hadn’t been totally wrong in wanting a child, but why couldn’t children be a part-time proposition? Couldn’t they at least come with a remote control and a mute button—or better still, a pause button?
Swiffer was in her customary spot on the back of the sofa. Sam was on the floor at Ellis’s feet. Ellis gave each of them an appreciative rub. Furry kids. Now, that made sense. You could love them. They loved you back, but they never got nose rings or tattoos. They didn’t date unsavory characters who rode motorcycles and wore leather vests and thought selling coffee at the local dive was the pinnacle of employment aspirations. You didn’t have to save for their college or wedding fund or figure out how to pay for their auto insurance.
Ellis still hadn’t found an opportunity to sound out Mary about Nathan’s love life. Maybe he was on the verge of remarrying. Sure, Mary would need an adjustment period if Nathan became the primary parent and she had Natalie alternate weekends or something, but with the right incentives…
Maybe right after the second time they made love, she’d find a way to work the subject into the conversation. And if she had her way, the second time they made love would be no later than the coming weekend.
∗ ∗ ∗ ∗
Ellis recognized the caller ID and scooped up the phone on the second ring. “Hi, sweetheart. I’d hoped to hear from you yesterday.”
“Sorry. I really thought I’d get a chance to call, but what was already the Christmas from hell took a hard left at You Can’t Be Serious, and I’m still recovering.”
“What happened? Nobody’s sick, I hope.”
“Just me, and I’m only sick at heart.”
“Tell me what’s going on.”
“I don’t know where to start.”
“Sounds like bad news.”
“It is, and it isn’t.”
“C’mon, Mary. Give me a clue what this is all about.”
“It looks like I’ll be moving.”
“Moving where?”
“Somewhere up here.”
Ellis wondered when she’d climbed on a roller coaster and how it was she hadn’t noticed the precipitous drop. “Clarkesville?”
“Or the near vicinity.”
“Why? I thought you hated it up there.”
“Sort of. I hate the way my mom and my sisters think they can run my life, but I love the quiet and the green and the mountain views.”
“That still doesn’t tell me why you think you’re moving to north Georgia.”
“Nathan’s transferring to the Cleveland office of Georgia Power.”
“Cleveland, Ohio?”
“No, of course not. Cleveland, Georgia. Home of the original Cabbage Patch Kids.”
“I guess I didn’t know Georgia had a Cleveland.”
“All two thousand residents would probably just as soon no one knew it existed.”
“But it does.”
“Yes, it does, and yesterday afternoon Nathan sealed the deal to start working right after the first of the year in that booming metropolis as one of the linesmen for the Georgia Power Office.”
“That must have been what he needed to take care of instead of coming right back to Atlanta after Christmas.”
“Right. I thought he might be trying to hook up with some friends or something. I never dreamed he was lining up a job here.”
“That explains why Nathan would be moving, but why do you have to pack your tent?”
“It’s a complicated story.”
“Try me. I’ll do my best to keep up.” Ellis knew she sounded defensive and cynical, but she didn’t really care.
“When Nathan and I divorced, we didn’t change the title on the house. It’s still in both our names.”
“So?”
“So, Nathan wants to sell the house and take his share of the equity to buy something up here.”
“Okay, but couldn’t you convince him to transfer the title to you if you bought him out? I could come up with some money to help with that. I’ve got the promissory note from Becky I could use.”
“Oh, he’d be fine with that, but neither of us wants Natalie to be so far away from her dad. It’d kill them both if they couldn’t see each other a couple times a week.”
Ellis fought the urge to shout, “Let him have her all the time.” She waited what she thought was the right amount of time before speaking. “Couldn’t he take over custody, and you have visitation rights?”
“You’re kidding, right? We’ve got joint custody of Natalie, and I’m not about to give up my time with her. She’s my daughter.”
Ellis harnessed her emotions again. “Just a thought.” She listened to Mary breathing on the far end of the line. “I’m still not sure why you have to move, though.”
“Nathan hates living in Atlanta. We thought it was the right thing to do when we got married because the job market is so much better there and it gave us some space from meddlesome relatives, but his whole family still lives right around Clarkesville, and now that he can have a decent job up here, he wants to come home and live in the woods.”
“And as I said, that’s great for Nathan, but what about you?”
“I can do my job from anywhere. My managing editor doesn’t care if I’m in Atlanta or Seattle, as long as I get my stories in on time. One of the stipulations in the divorce decree says both Nathan and I will make reasonable attempts to accommodate each other’s needs to have time with Natalie.”
“Clarkesville is only a couple of hours from Atlanta,” Ellis said.
“But to a nine-year-old, two hours is an eternity. I don’t want to chase up and down the road with her three times a week, and neither does Nathan. Even doing that once a week would make us all crazy in less than a month, not to mention what it would do to our bank accounts, thanks to what gas costs now.”
“Don’t you like living in Atlanta?”
“God’s truth—I’m totally indifferent. I like being able to go to the women’s bookstore, and it’s nice to have some shopping malls close by, but for the most part, I’m still a hayseed who’s happier with blue jeans and barbecue than with dress clothes and sushi.”
Once more, Ellis let the rancor have full play in her voice. “Sounds like it’s all decided and settled.”
“Nathan and I talked about this for hours yeste
rday. It was a big shock to me. I won’t pretend it wasn’t, but I’ve watched Natalie having the time of her life with all her cousins, and I think it’s going to be good for her to be part of a bigger family. You know how spoiled Nathan and I let her get by being the center of our worlds. This will help her understand that she’s only one piece of the pie, not the only sweet on the menu.”
Ellis felt sick to her stomach. She swallowed repeatedly to push the bile down. She almost called Mary a liar and a fool, but caught herself before the words fell out. “I hope it all works out for you.”
“You’re mad, aren’t you?”
“Not in the least,” Ellis lied. “You need to do what’s best for you and your family.”
“Ellis, we need to talk about this—about us.”
“What’s to talk about? You were doing fine before I fell into your life. You’ll do fine without me in it at all.”
“So just like that, it’s over?”
“How can anything be over? Nothing ever got started.”
“Ellis, please…”
Ellis hung up the phone.
∗ ∗ ∗ ∗
“Damn it, Sam, when I whistle for you, you’re supposed to come.” Ellis stormed down the hall of Mary’s house and smacked her dog’s rear end. “I don’t care if you think this kid’s bed is your new clubhouse, we’re going home.” Sam cowered momentarily at Ellis’s tone but leaped off the bed and followed Ellis back to the kitchen.
“What the hell was I thinking? I threw away ten years on a woman who decided having a child was more important than having a partner, and I damn near made the same mistake a second time.” She grabbed the bag of dog food from its place in one of the lower cabinets and slammed it onto the kitchen table. The force burst the bag, and kibble scattered everywhere.
“Oh, fuck. Like I needed this.” Ellis hunted for a broom and dustpan. She gave up and used her hands to sweep the spilled food into piles on the floor. Sam thought it must be some new game and wandered from pile to pile, eating a few morsels from each.
“Stop it, Sam! This is hard enough without you slobbering all over everything.” From her squatting position, Ellis swung at Sam’s butt, but missed. She lost her balance and landed hard on the floor. Bitter tears stung the back of her eyelids. “Goddamn it to hell and back.” The tears spilled down her cheeks. “I hate you, Mary Moss. I hate you and your stupid kid and your fairy-tale life. I hate that I wasted a month of my life sharing your bed like some kind of perverted nun. I hate myself for thinking I was in love with you, and I hate you for making me think we were anything more than a side trip after an accident on LaVista Road.”
Ellis dragged herself over to one of the kitchen chairs and used the seat to help her stand up. Her ankle was aching fiercely, and pain shot through it as she put her weight on it.
“You were just a detour, MaryChris Moss. A damned detour that I’m sorry I took. From now on, I’m traveling light and traveling alone.”
She yanked a set of keys from her pocket. It was the key chain Mary had given her a few days before. The sight of the picture of Natalie sleeping with Sam and Swiffer was nearly more than she could bear. She flung the keys on the counter, then took a step toward the door. Swiffer whisked into the kitchen from wherever she’d been napping.
The sight of the cat brought Ellis up short. “Oh fine. I suppose I have to take care of you until the Mother of the Year gets back.” Ellis reclaimed the key chain with Mary’s house keys on it and crammed them in her pocket. “You’ve got food and water to hold you ’til morning.” Swiffer wrapped herself around Ellis’s legs. “Don’t bother. I’m done with you, and I’m done with the woman and the kid you live with. Tell them I said ‘Thanks for nothing.’”
Ellis clipped Sam’s leash on her collar. Without so much as a single backward glance, she let herself out of the house and, she hoped, out of the pain that threatened to obliterate her heart.
∗ ∗ ∗ ∗
“Open the door, Ellis. I know you’re in there. Your truck is in the parking lot, and I can hear Sam woofing. I’m not going away until you talk to me.” Mary leaned her forehead on the door to Ellis’s apartment. “C’mon, Ellis. Please.”
Mary heard footfalls coming toward the door. The deadbolt thunked, and the pushbutton lock in the handle popped free. She tried the doorknob. It turned, and she pushed the door open.
“Hi,” she said softly as she stepped inside. “I was really disappointed that you weren’t at the house when I got there last night.”
“Why? It’s not like we had plans or anything.” Ellis slouched into an overstuffed recliner on the far side of the room. Sam slunk behind the chair and curled up in a ball. “Pull up a chair. Make yourself homely.”
Mary went to Ellis and leaned down to kiss her.
Ellis turned her head, and Mary settled for giving Ellis a peck on the cheek.
“I thought we did have plans. You promised me you’d be there when I got back, and you told me you’d hold me when I got home.”
“That was when I thought I was more than just another of your charitable causes.” Ellis pulled the handle for the footrest and cranked back in her chair, nearly clipping Mary’s kneecaps in the process. “Sorry,” she said half-heartedly.
Mary put her heel on the extended footrest and shoved it back into place, jerking Ellis into an upright position. “Look, I know you’re pissed at me, and I guess I don’t blame you, but if you think I’m going to let you act like a petulant child, think again.”
“No, you’ve already got one of those. I’d be redundant.”
Mary’s anger flared. “Knock it off. You’re thirty-seven-years old, but you’re behaving like a two-year-old who didn’t get her nap.”
“Thanks. I appreciate the comparison.”
Mary spun away and took a few steps. She stopped, calmed herself, then turned and faced Ellis. “Okay, I know now I should have waited to tell you face-to-face about Nathan’s transfer and the effect it has on Nat and me. I was too upset when I talked to you on the phone to think about how it would seem to you.” She gulped some air. “But I’m here now, and I want you to tell me how you feel.”
“Bullshit.”
“You feel like bullshit?”
“No, what you’re telling me is bullshit. You don’t give a flip how I feel.”
“If I didn’t care about how you feel, why did I come back from Clarkesville early? Why have I tried to call you forty times in the past twenty-four hours? If you didn’t matter to me, would I have stood outside your door for ten minutes begging you to let me in?” Mary watched Ellis’s face in the dimly lit room.
Ellis said, “I guess this is only Friday, isn’t it?”
“Uh-huh. I left Natalie with my mother and drove back last night. When you weren’t at my house when I got there, I got so scared that I threw up.”
“What did you tell your mother?”
“About throwing up?”
“No, about why you left Clarkesville. Didn’t she want to know why you had to come back to Atlanta?”
“I told her my cat sitter had been called away on an emergency, and I had to make sure Swiffer was all right.”
“And your mother bought that?”
“Who cares?” Mary slapped her thighs with her palms. “I needed to see you. You didn’t answer the phone at my house. You didn’t answer your cell. You weren’t at the house when I got there. You didn’t leave a note. I knew you were upset, and I needed to find you. If I hadn’t been so tired and so sick, I’d have come over here last night, but I didn’t think I’d make a very good impression, tossing my guts all over your apartment.”
“I’m sorry you were sick.” Mary was glad to hear a hint of genuine compassion in Ellis’s words.
Mary knelt at eye level in front of Ellis. “From the minute I left my driveway last Saturday morning, you are the only happy thought I’ve had. I missed you so much I thought I’d shrivel up and die. I kicked myself all the way to Clarkesville for turning down your offer of
a kiss in front of my house because I was afraid one of the neighbors might see us. When I saw my sisters with their husbands and Nathan’s brothers with their wives, all I could picture was you next to me in my bed.” She rubbed Ellis’s upper leg. “I know we haven’t talked about you and me—long-term you and me—and I sure as hell didn’t think we’d have to talk about long-distance you and me.”
“Me either.”
“When I found out Nathan was moving to Clarkesville and he basically said I’d better think about moving, too, my brain went numb.” Mary caressed Ellis’s cheek. “One of the first things that flashed in my mind was, ‘Oh, God, my mother will have a stroke when I tell her I’m living with a woman.’”
“But you’re not living with a woman.”
“Thanks to two unfortunate spills on LaVista Road, one by the beer truck and one with you hurting your ankle, I have been living with a woman for the past month, and I can tell you sure as your name is Gretchen Alina VanStantvoordt, it’s what I was born to do.”
Mary couldn’t decipher the look on Ellis’s face. She waited, hoping some of what she was trying to say was registering with Ellis. She stood and paced.
“I’m not much of a catch, Ellis. I don’t know how to make love to you, and heaven knows if I’ll ever learn. I’ve got a child. I’ve got an ex-husband who’s still a big part of my life because of that child. Let’s not even talk about my mother, who would make Jesus Christ himself consider becoming a Hindu if it would spare him her Baptist preaching.” She stopped and rubbed her face with both hands, then clasped her hands together beneath her chin. “Can’t we at least talk about trying to make this work?”
Detours Page 9
