by Susan Hatler
“What’cha thinking about? You gonna stoke the fire with your x-ray vision or something?” Judy asked with her normal sarcastic, yet enchanting twang.
“What?” Roused from her thoughts, the dull ache returned to Lisa’s back so she shuffled to the dining chair where Eric’s coat had just been and lowered to the seat.
Judy scooted a chair next to her and sat down, taking Lisa’s hands in her own. “You know, Eric went through a rough time in New York. He went there looking for something and lost himself for a while. He’s a good man, though. Any girl would be lucky to have him.”
“Oh, Judy.” Lisa could feel tears glistening in her eyes. “Believe me, I have no doubt, but it isn’t that simple.” Lisa fought the rising lump in her throat, threatening to crack her voice. “Tell me more about Eric. I’d like to know. You only told me about how handsome he was, and gentle and kind. A strong willed person with ambition, I think is how you phrased it, but family always came first. But if so, why did he leave you and go to New York in the first place? What happened to him?”
“Oh, hon, that’s not my tale to share. But if you two don’t let go of the past, you’ll both miss out on something great.”
“Like you did?” Lisa squeezed Judy’s hands. “Tell me more about James.”
“Well, it was a long time ago.”
Lisa couldn’t help but smile at the familiar twinkle in her partner’s eye. It had to be a family trait. “And you remember it as if it were yesterday, right?”
“Perceptive girl, aren’t you? Too bad you’re not so observant when it comes to yourself.”
“Judy…” Lisa started.
Judy leaned back, her hands slipping from Lisa’s. “Okay, okay. I get it. You want the old woman to butt out. I guess I am a little pushy. My son knows me too well. Too bad he doesn’t realize we’re a lot alike. So, you want to know about James Benjamin?”
Lisa nodded, knowing reliving the past was hard for her partner, but she wanted to believe that love was real and attainable, even if it wasn’t meant for her.
“He was tall and thin, but strong. A hard worker on his daddy’s farm. His mother was beautiful, an artist, but she never left the family home long enough to do anything with her talent. We were close, though, his mother and I. She showed me the beauty in the world through her art. When we went to tell his parents we wanted to marry, I thought they’d go nuts, but they didn’t. His father left the room, mumbling about how James was ruining his life, but his mother jumped up and hugged me. She said I looked at her son, like she looked at his daddy, as if he was the only man in the world…and he was.” Judy sighed. “Until he was reported captured and presumed dead. We’d heard the same thing many times before from friends and family who’d also lost a loved one. It meant the men had died on the front line and their bodies were never recovered.”
Judy’s gaze went vacant, her thoughts lost in the past. “A gut wrenching emptiness tore my heart in half and I was never the same again. I’d promised to wait for him and I believed he’d make it home, that we’d grow old on the family farm.” She wrung her hands together. “But instead, I was never allowed to set foot on the farm again, I was shunned by his family when I married his cousin.”
Chapter Twelve
Judy stood, her chair scraping against the hardwood floor. “Come, it’s easier to show you the story than to tell it.” She led Lisa up two flights of stairs then pulled down a ladder in the ceiling. “Be careful now, I don’t want you falling down these steps.” Judy nimbly traversed the steps with her skirt hiked up to her knees.
As Lisa stuck her head through the opening, a light flicked on, revealing boxes and old furniture. “Over here,” Judy called. A large trunk rested near a porthole style window. The top creaked open and Lisa leaned over to peer in. The strong scent of cedar replaced the mustiness in the cool air. A white gown rested inside.
“This was my hope chest. I know you girls don’t have those anymore, but back in my day getting married was an important event, life altering and permanent. We kept all our wishes and trinkets in these cedar chests.” Judy lifted the dress, exposing the short train with sheer material covering a satin bodice. The entire gown was hand-beaded with tiny pearls.
“It’s beautiful,” Lisa gasped, her eyes stinging with tears. Would she ever wear anything so lovely? She’d actually stopped at a dress shop on her way to tell Mark about the baby. “You must have made a beautiful bride.”
“I think I looked okay, but I would’ve been prettier in this gown than the one I wore. You see, this was the dress for my wedding with James Benjamin, not Eric’s dad. I couldn’t bring myself to wear it when I married his cousin. Somehow it seemed wrong.” Judy fingered the delicate beading lovingly. “My grandmother and I spent weeks making this dress, and several months doing the beading.”
“You made this? Wow, you’re a talented seamstress.” Lisa ran her fingers down the silky material.
“Not me, dear. It was mostly my grandmother. When she passed away around the same time I got married, I stopped sewing completely. I think it made me too sad. Too many memories.” Judy gazed out the small window as if she saw a previous life then shook her head and replaced the flowing dress into the cedar trunk, slamming it shut.
“I was lonely,” she continued, “in the I-don’t-know-if-I-can-live-on sort of way. Eric’s dad softened the bone-deep pain of losing James, gave me a part of my life back.” Judy wrapped her arms around her middle, her eyes showing a glimpse of the grief from so long ago. “I’m glad you didn’t live back in my day. You wouldn’t have had a choice but to marry that Mark fellow in your condition.”
Lisa stared at her, heat flooding her entire body. “How—when…” She lowered her head and fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “How did you know?”
“Oh dear, from the minute you walked into the store. A mother can just tell. Plus, you touch your belly all the time when you think no one’s watching.”
Lisa lifted her gaze to meet Judy’s. “Does Eric know?”
“It’s not my place to tell and he hasn’t mentioned it to me.” Judy tapped Lisa’s hand.
“But if you knew, why’d you try to get us together? He’s your son, and I’m—”
“A girl with a baby on the way. I know.” Judy smiled. “I was in your way once, too.”
“It’s not the same.” Lisa perched on the side of an antique desk, “I don’t want Mark back. He wasn’t the man I thought he was.” Images of moments in their relationship shot through her mind like a slideshow on fast forward. Those times she’d attempted to make him happy, to keep him from leaving. It wasn’t him she loved, it was the idea of having someone by her side. “Actually, I couldn’t go back to him even if I wanted to. You were madly in love with James, but I was only in love with the idea of Mark.”
Judy’s lips quirked up in a strange smirk. “You misunderstand, honey. I had to marry Eric’s dad. I was pregnant, and back then, such a thing was scandalous.”
Lisa cupped her mouth to stifle her loud gasp. “Is Eric’s dad James?”
“No. No.” Judy waved her hands. “I’ve never told anyone the whole story so I’m afraid I’m not doing a very good job. You see, I was best friends with Michael, Eric’s dad. We did everything together. It wasn’t romantic in any way, but we were good to each other. The night I received word about James, Michael was there. He held me for hours and then, well, the pain was so bad I wanted to forget.” Judy sunk into a worn-out wicker chair, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “It’s something I’ll always feel guilty about, but never regret because I have Eric.”
Lisa struggled to find words to console Judy, but the sight of her partner’s sadness rendered her unable to think. The only words that came from her mouth were, “I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, don’t be. It was a long time ago. My point in telling you this is that you have choices. When I found out I was pregnant with Eric, we didn’t have a choice, despite the fact that it was a mistake, two friends mourning a great los
s. Michael had a girlfriend he’d planned on marrying and I probably would have remained single the rest of my life because, no matter who came and left in my life, my heart never forgot James.”
Lisa had so many questions, but she didn’t want to pry, didn’t want to make Judy recall her past any more than she had already. Instead, she reached out in an awkward gesture, patting Judy’s arm, unsure of how to provide comfort the way the Gaylords did. “I’m so sorry. It must have been tough being married to someone you didn’t love.”
“Oh, it may not have started out as love, but I grew to love him, as he did I. Heck, we could have divorced later, but we loved each other and the family we’d made. Most never have that, so I consider myself lucky. I married my best friend, who understood my heart, as I understood his. You see, great men are understanding, caring, and never judgmental. My Eric is just like his daddy. He wasn’t always that way, though.” Judy chuckled and clapped her hands together. “Oh, he didn’t want to turn out like his dad. Nope, he wanted to make something of himself outside this small town, so we sent him to law school and he moved on to New York City, but eventually he realized he wasn’t that guy. When Michael got sick, Eric spent more and more time here. I think when his father died, he reflected on all the choices he’d made, and decided New York wasn’t the life for him after all. He opened his own law practice here and he’s flourished into a happy, successful young man with better priorities.”
“Judy, I understand and feel for what you went through, but it was different. You married the father of your baby. You didn’t hook up with another man.” Lisa ran a finger through the dust on the desk. “I’m pregnant, and I came here to find good parents for my child, but now I don’t know what I want to do.”
“Oh, I think you do.” Judy rose from the chair and knelt in front of Lisa. “I’ve seen how you hold your belly and hug your middle. You want to feel connected to that little one growing inside you. It doesn’t matter how, or by who that it got there, you love that baby just the same. And I can tell you that it doesn’t matter if you and Eric work out, or if you and the baby’s father get back together, you’ll never be lonely again when you have that little one in your arms.” Judy tipped Lisa’s chin up. “Listen, you can make your own choice and I’ll promise you this, I’ll be with you the whole way. I always thought if I could help someone through the fear and loneliness of being pregnant and alone, I would. Yes, I had Michael, but we were both grieving for our loss and our mistake. It wasn’t until I held Eric for the first time that I really began to heal. Once that happened, nothing else mattered.”
“I can’t go back to the baby’s father. Ever.” Lisa sniffed.
“Why? Did he hurt you? Was he rough?” Judy asked.
Lisa squeezed Judy’s hands as if to keep herself from fleeing in desperation. “No―yes…well, he became angrier than I’d ever seen him before, but it was worse.” Lisa’s arms shook and she fought for control. She was stronger than this.
“What?” Judy nudged.
“Mark said that I…that I had to have an abortion and if I didn’t, he’d take care of it himself.” Lisa took a stuttered breath, fighting against the tears. “He said he’d kill my baby.”
Judy stood up and pulled Lisa into her arms. “Oh, child. Shh…he’s not going to do any such thing.” She rocked Lisa until her sobs calmed then she scooted back and grasped Lisa’s shoulder. “Did you go to the police?”
“No. I was shocked and then he just stormed out.” The image she’d built of her happy future had crumbled around her in an instant. “I didn’t think about calling the police but I know that if I had called them, it would’ve just made things worse. I’d helped a friend of mine out of a domestic abuse situation, so I know how the system works. No, I did something worse.” Lisa bowed her head in shame.
“What could you have done? You were the victim.” Judy tensed her grip on Lisa’s upper arms. “It’s okay, you can tell me.”
“I waited a couple of days,” Lisa heaved then settled, “then told him I aborted the baby. He believed me. I told him it was too painful to remain in New York City knowing I’d just terminated my pregnancy. He agreed then immediately had me fired.” She choked and fought for composure, concentrating on her breathing, the smell of Judy’s floral perfume, the sound of the furnace cutting on downstairs, anything to ground herself to this place. After a few moments, she took a deep cleansing breath and continued. “So, you see, I can’t return.”
Judy rose. “Wait here a second.” She disappeared behind an armoire, and Lisa could hear a drawer being tugged open then Judy returned with a white embroidered cloth. “Here, it was one of the handkerchiefs my grandmother made me embroider by hand. She always thought a lady should be an artist in all things domestic. I’m afraid I failed miserably.”
Lisa chuckled. The pink and blue circles resembled flowers but she wasn’t sure. “But it’s so beautiful.”
“Don’t lie to me. We’ve come too far today.” Judy winked and walked to the ladder. “I think it’s time for some hot cocoa.” She grabbed the side railing then paused. “Just one question.”
Lisa dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. “What is it?”
“When are you going to tell Eric the truth? It’s a tight group here. I’m afraid in another month or so you won’t be able to hide under those baggy shirts and sweaters anymore, and it would be best if Eric heard it from you and not Cathy Mitchell.”
Chapter Thirteen
Eric dumped his briefcase on the kitchen table then went into his living room and sunk into his favorite leather chair. The room was quiet and cool, but he didn’t see any reason to build a fire, not when there was no one to share it with.
Restless, he eyed his briefcase. He usually spent his nights working until he stumbled to bed exhausted, but tonight his mind raced of other things, and work didn’t interest him. Shoving from the chair, he slid his laptop from his briefcase, grabbed a beer and the television remote, then took his seat again.
He pressed the power button on the remote and the nightly news clicked on. He paid little attention to reports of an accident shutting down the interstate and a shooting in Chattanooga, only wanting the TV on for the white noise. Anything to drown out the silence invading his home and the meandering thoughts of Lisa Mortan.
Facts, that was what he needed. Lawyers researched cases, obtaining details and events that provided the necessary information to make an educated decision. That was what made sense. Not all this talk about trust and love. “Mother and her romantic notions,” he mumbled. If Lisa Mortan was hiding something, he’d find it.
Fingering the laptop keyboard for the tiny bumps on F and J, he entered in his passcode. Taking a swig of his beer, he eyed the television to see if there were any criminal trial updates or sports stats, but the newscasters were still droning on about some foreign policy disagreement they’d been harping about for months.
The wireless finally connected and he typed Lisa Morton into the search engine of his browser. The tiny illuminated circle spun for a second then a bunch of Lisa Mortans popped up. A school teacher, stripper, body builder, and even a nun. It seemed everybody had an online presence nowadays.
He cleared the search and typed in, Lisa Mortan New York City Museum. He clicked the top line and found some philanthropic article about a man named Mark. The article included a photo of the man, with Lisa standing beside him. They didn’t look happy, more like statues posed for a promotional piece.
He took another swig of his beer, coating his constricting throat with cool hoppy and ale flavors. A man’s equivalent to a woman’s bubble bath, beer was soothing, relaxing, and relieved tension. Of course, he only ever drank one. He’d seen too many marriages destroyed by alcohol and drugs, some of them his own clients. Besides, after that car wreck his junior year, he’d decided to never drink to excess again. Lesson learned, the hard way.
Scrolling down through the web page, he read more about Mark Brenson and his accomplishments, with a short bio a
bout his fiancé, Lisa Mortan. He was her fiancé? Eric thought. He had to have been the one who put that bruise on Lisa’s wrist. He cracked his knuckles and read on, learning critical intel about Lisa, like her place of birth.
Typing Salt Lake City, Lisa Mortan into the search bar, he found the names of her father and mother, which led him to an obituary for her father. Eric dug through the internet for hours, uncovering tidbits and putting the pieces together. Newspaper articles, high school yearbooks, newsletters, and blogs yielded a wealth of information.
His heart tightened at the photo of a little girl with no shoes or socks, her hair matted, standing on a street corner waiting for food from a shelter. No name was listed, but it was her. The same hair and large eyes breached the black and white world of the newspaper article, reaching for his soul. A Vietnam vet who suffered from PTSD after the war, much like Mary Lynn’s dad had. Had Lisa’s father abused her the same way? Had he been a drunk? Had he whipped her with his belt and told her she was nothing?
He couldn’t go through that again.
He shoved the computer from his lap onto the side table and bent over, resting his elbows on his knees. His head throbbed with tension. “How?” he whispered into the night. How did she go from being nearly homeless to an educated woman living in New York City? How had she paid for college?
College?
He yanked the computer back onto his lap and searched for colleges and universities in Salt Lake City. Entering each one in the search bar with her name, he came up empty-handed.
Wait, a girl with no money wouldn’t be able to afford a university.
He typed Salt Lake City Community College Lisa Mortan into the search bar and found a link to more of her online footprint over the years. According to the search results, she’d worked full time as well as completed a scholarship project, all while attending school. He also assumed she cared for her father during that time, based on the date of his death and her place of residence. She fought and clawed her way to a senior college, graduating salutatorian.
