The Women in Joe Sullivan's Life

by Marie Ferrarella

  Instantly, the classroom disappeared and she was on a playground, surrounded with laughing children. Sunshine poured over the scene. Sandy delivered her line.

  After some rehearsal and twenty-three takes, the scene was completed.

  “I never knew commercials took so long to film,” Joe commented. “Hey, you’re as tense as an ironing board.”

  “It might have something to do with the fact that you’ve got your arm where you shouldn’t,” Maggie countered.

  “Flattering as that is, I don’t think so.” He glanced toward his niece. “That’s vicarious tension. You’re worried about Sandy.”

  “Maybe I see myself in her.” She bit her lip, realizing that she’d slipped. “Watch the commercial.”

  After twenty-three takes, he knew it by heart. “I don’t have to. If I shut my eyes, I see it all over and over again.” He looked down at her. “I’d rather look at you and imprint that on my brain cells.”

  Maggie shrugged him off and moved away. A deep, sensuous laugh followed her.

  When the director announced, “Cut and print,” there was an appreciative, relieved round of applause.

  Sandy looked bewildered at first, and then smiled shyly.

  Maggie was the first to reach her. She hugged the little girl. Christine, enthused, announced, “Group hug!”

  In the blink of an eye, Maggie found herself in the center of a crowd scene. There were three sets of small arms hugging her. But what she was keenly aware of was the one set of large, muscular ones.

  Trying vainly not to react to him, Maggie looked at Joe questioningly.

  “She said group hug,” he answered innocently. He looked down at Sandy. It was the happiest, he thought, that he had seen his oldest niece in a long time.

  It was safer, Maggie decided, looking at Sandy. “You were wonderful.”

  Adam laid a hand on his sister’s shoulder. The girls broke ranks around her. “When you’re right, you’re right.”

  Maggie almost said, “I usually am,” but refrained. The comparison he’d made between her and Christine still lingered in her mind. Maybe she had gotten too domineering. She always wanted the best for them, for everyone. She was aware that at times it made her usurp everyone’s rights in a situation.

  Her smile was genuine and grateful. “Thanks.”

  Christine marched back onto the set, taking the seat Sandy had vacated. “Now it’s my turn. Action, camera!” She looked around expectantly. No one moved.

  Maggie crossed to her and took Christine firmly by the hand. “I’m afraid that it isn’t your turn.”

  Christine’s lower lip protruded. “We can’t trade places?”

  “No, Sandy had the starring role. And she was very good at it. You were good in your parts, too.” Jennifer seemed to accept the praise, but Christine was still unconvinced. Maggie cupped the girl’s chin in her hand. “The commercial wouldn’t have been any good without you. You played a very important part.”

  “But we just sat.” She looked up at her uncle for support.

  “It’s Maggie’s show, Christine. You can’t tell everyone what to do,” Joe pointed out.

  It wasn’t what Christine wanted to hear.

  Maggie placed her hands on the slumped shoulders and turned the girl toward her. “You made the people watching believe it was a classroom, and then a playground. Without you, it wouldn’t have been believable.” She dropped her hands from Christine’s shoulders. “And Sandy said the lines that will sell more cookies for us.” She didn’t want to promote a schism between the girls. She just wanted to bolster Sandy’s self-confidence. “You’ll understand what I’m saying a lot better if you see it.”

  Looking around, she saw Adam talking to the director. “George, is there any chance we can see the commercial now?”

  The director spread his hands in a shrug. “Only the roughest cut.”

  “Fine. That’s all we need. We’re not fussy,” Maggie assured him.

  Like hell she wasn’t. Joe could see the same thought running across Adam’s mind.

  “Now there,” Joe said, placing a hand on her shoulder, “is what we call a contradiction.”

  Maggie looked genuinely surprised at the assessment. She didn’t think of herself as fussy. Fussy people were difficult to live with. She just wanted the best for everyone.

  “Me? Fussy?”

  Joe nodded. His hand remained where it was. “About every detail in your life.”

  So, he thought he had her number, did he? “Got that from watching me in class, did you?”

  “Got that from watching you, period.” He dropped his hand to his side as she moved to accept the videotape from the cameraman. He knew that she would conveniently forget about the interview if given half a chance. “By the way, after we watch the rushes—”

  She knew what was coming. Because of all the excitement, she’d hoped for at least a postponement. Apparently not. “Yes?”

  “You have to pay the piper.”

  She blew out a breath. “More like giving the devil his due.”

  Her disgruntled comment had no effect on him. “Whatever metaphor pleases you, as long as you answer my questions.”

  A fragment of a memory nudged its way forward. “I thought you had to get the article out in a hurry.”

  He nodded. “I did—”

  Maggie frowned. “Three weeks doesn’t seem like much of a hurry.”

  He’d neglected to tell her, knowing that she would balk at it. “That was before I talked my editor into making you a feature story for the next issue.”

  Oh, damn, this was even worse than she thought. She should have never made this bargain with him. “Why do I suddenly feel like Faust at the stroke of midnight?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea.” Despite the fact that they were on a sound stage with a fair amount of people around them, he made her feel as if they were completely alone when he took her hand into his. His manner was warm, coaxing. “Maggie, I’m on your side.”

  She broke contact; it didn’t help. She still felt his hand on hers. “I doubt it. My side doesn’t want an interview of any sort. My side just wants a little good publicity to help me push a few more boxes of cookies.”

  Joe had done his research. He’d seen the last quarters’ sales figures. And that was before her chocolate chip bouquets had gone on the market, cookies arranged like long-stemmed roses and sold as gift items in select department stores. He’d heard that they were doing phenomenally well.

  Joe laughed. “Now, there is a real understatement.”

  Maggie ignored him as she motioned the girls to follow her to a screening room. “Let’s watch what real teamwork can do, girls.”

  “Maybe you can take notes,” Adam whispered.

  When she looked up, her brother was smiling. But she knew that he was serious.

  Chapter Nine

  Christine rushed ahead of the others to the first row of the small screening room. She looked around in awe.

  “This is just like when we go to the movies.” To reinforce her observation, Christine expectantly pushed one of the seats down. It snapped back into place. Jennifer giggled. Provided with an audience, Christine pushed the seat down and released it again.

  With a suppressed sigh, Joe caught Christine’s hand before she could attempt a third try. “It’s called a screening room. This is where we’re going to watch the commercial you just did. Provided you don’t break any of the seats.”

  Christine appeared sufficiently chastised, at least for the moment.

  “Can we have popcorn?” Jennifer asked.

  “We’re not going to be here that long.” Maggie thought that explanation was easier than going into why there was no popcorn.

  Maggie led the way into an aisle, her hand firmly wrapped around Sandy’s. Joe followed with the other girls. Adam remained with the projectionist.

  Joe couldn’t help thinking how much this resembled a family outing. He wondered what Maggie would say if he pointed that out to her
.

  Or if he told her how much she seemed to fit into the structure of his newly formed family. How much he wanted her to fit in.

  “I can eat fast,” Jennifer persisted. Movie theaters of any size meant popcorn to Jennifer.

  Maggie thought of their first meeting. “Yes, I know. And I know what happens when you do.” She looked down the row to make sure that everyone was seated. A moment later, the room darkened.

  Jennifer started to say something again, but Maggie cut her off. “Shh. Watch. This is what I mean by teamwork.”

  The girls watched as the sixty-second commercial breezed by. Exclamations of wonder and glee at seeing themselves enlarged to such gigantic proportions accompanied the showing.

  The lights went up. Maggie sat forward as she turned to look at the others. “Well?”

  “I really am a big girl,” Jennifer cried, pleased.

  Christine wiggled in her seat, giving the impression of a lid about to be propelled off a boiling pot. “Can we see it again?”

  Sandy remained pensively quiet, digesting what she had just watched. Maybe she needed to watch herself again, Maggie thought.

  She nodded. “Once more.” She turned around in her seat, looking toward the rear of the small room. “They want to see it again.”

  Adam signaled the projectionist in the glass booth to rewind. Moments later, the room was dark again, except for the larger-than-life images on the screen.

  In another minute, the commercial faded into a series of numbers. “We’d better leave,” Maggie urged. “There’s still a lot of editing work to be done with the commercial before it can air.”

  As soon as they filed out of the row, Christine turned to look at Maggie. “Are all those dots and arrows going to be in it, too?” She didn’t think they were very pretty.

  “No, that goes out with the editing. That’s part of the work they still have to do.” Maggie paused before the door, wanting to hear the girls’ reactions. “So, do you see what I mean about teamwork?”

  “I was good, wasn’t I?” Christine preened like a prima donna in the making.

  The lesson seemed to have fallen a little short, Joe thought. “You all were,” he interjected. When he turned toward Sandy, he saw tears gathering in her eyes. “Sandy? What’s the matter?”

  Rather than answer, Sandy pushed open the door with both hands and bolted from the room. Joe started to follow, but Maggie stopped him. “No, let me go after her.”

  The charm was fading a little from her take-charge attitude. “She’s my niece,” he reminded her.

  “Yes, but I understand her.” Maggie left no room for argument. Leaving Joe to stay with Christine and Jennifer, Maggie hurried out of the screening room.

  “Uncle Joe, what’s the matter with Sandy?” There was frightened concern in Christine’s voice.

  “I don’t know, honey.” He wished he did, but he hadn’t a clue. It seemed that no matter what their size, women continued to confuse him.

  Adam came down the aisle to join them. He saw the look on Joe’s face. It mirrored what he’d been feeling lately. “Maggie has a way of taking over.”

  Joe dragged a hand through his hair. “So I noticed. Was she always like this?”

  “Ever since I can remember.” Adam found himself in the strange position of defending exactly what annoyed him about Maggie. But she was family and this man wasn’t. “Her aggressive manner has its good points.”

  Joe had observed both sides. “And its bad.”

  Adam relented and laughed. He and Sullivan understood each other. And from the looks of it, they had something in common. They’d both been plowed under by Maggie. “Yeah.”

  Maggie quickly caught up to Sandy. The little girl had turned a corner and come to a dead end. She had no idea which way to go next. Confused, upset, she remained where she was, in the corner, her face turned to the wall. Her small shoulders were shaking when Maggie reached her.

  Oh, God, she was crying. This was blowing up in her face, Maggie thought.

  “Sandy, what is it?” Maggie turned Sandy around and looked at her. The little girl’s cheeks were shiny with tears.

  Her heart aching, Maggie bent down to take Sandy into her arms. But the comfort she offered was refused. Sandy bore the hug stiffly.

  What was wrong? Why was she crying? Christine hadn’t even teased her.

  “What is it, honey?” she repeated. “Didn’t you like what you saw?”

  Sandy rubbed away the tears with the heel of her hand. Fresh ones came in their wake. “Yes.”

  Those were definitely not tears of joy. “Then why aren’t you happy?”

  Sandy shook her head, miserable beyond words and confused about the feelings that she was having. “I am happy. That’s the problem.”

  A kernel of suspicion began to form in Maggie’s mind. But she didn’t want to put words into Sandy’s mouth. “Why? Why is being happy a problem, honey?”

  Sandy buried her face in Maggie’s shoulder. Her words mingled with her tears, both muffled against Maggie. “Because I shouldn’t be. It’s not right to feel happy when—when—”

  Maggie stroked the girl’s hair. She’d been right, she thought sadly. “When what, honey?”

  “When my mommy and daddy are gone.” Sandy began to sob loudly, as if her little heart was breaking. Maggie had a feeling that Sandy had kept everything inside her until this moment. And now the dam had broken, unable to hold things back any longer.

  She knew how that was, Maggie thought.

  Maggie waited a few moments, letting the worst of it pass. Still holding Sandy against her, Maggie said softly, “They would have wanted you to be happy.”

  It didn’t seem right to be happy when your parents were dead, Sandy thought. But she knew Maggie wouldn’t lie to her. Sandy raised her head, blinking tears from her lashes. “They would have?”

  “Of course they would have.” Maggie rose and smiled down at Sandy. She continued to hold her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “They loved you, didn’t they?”

  Sandy choked back another sob. “Yes, they did.” And she missed them something awful.

  “You know,” Maggie said, trying to keep her tone light, though she felt her own tears rising, “you’re a very lucky little girl.”

  Sandy didn’t understand how Maggie could think she was lucky. She was an orphan. She knew what that word meant. One of the kids had called her that at school, saying she wasn’t as good as everyone else. “I am?”

  “Yes. You had a really wonderful mother and father who loved you and your sisters a great deal. Not everyone does.”

  Sandy was very quiet for a moment, looking up at Maggie with large, wise blue eyes. It was as if Sandy knew what Maggie meant without really understanding the actual words. “Didn’t you?”

  A bitter smile threatened to twist her lips, but Maggie repressed it. Instead, she merely shook her head. “No. No, I didn’t. And neither did my brothers.”

  That seemed hard for Sandy to understand. She thought all parents loved their children. Something was wrong. “Didn’t you love them?”

  “Yes, I loved them.” Maggie blew out a breath. She had gone on loving her parents even while she resented the fact that they didn’t seem to care about their children, about her. She had never given up hope, until the very end, that something would happen to change everything. To blow away the bad feelings. Nothing ever did.

  “And in a way, I supposed they loved me.” She rubbed Sandy’s cheek. “But they had a lot of problems of their own—”

  “Big problems?” Sandy asked. That seemed to be the only reason she could think of why someone wouldn’t love Maggie. She knew she did.

  “Very big problems.” Problems so large they couldn’t begin to see how to surmount them, so they never even tried. “The problems kind of got in the way of their remembering that they had other people depending on them.” Maggie struggled to scrape the bitterness from her voice. Her parents were long dead. Her hurt should have been buried with them.<
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  But it wasn’t.

  “My mom died when I was a little older than you,” she told Sandy.

  Sandy linked her fingers with Maggie’s and gave her hand a comforting squeeze. It touched Maggie beyond words. “And your daddy?” she whispered softly.

  What a wonderful little girl she was, Maggie thought. She really seemed to care. “He kind of died a long time before that.”

  Sandy’s brow puckered up as she tried to understand. “Kind of?”

  Maggie hadn’t meant to phrase it like that. The words had just slipped out that way. “It’s a long story.” She tucked her arm around Sandy’s shoulders again. “Maybe I’ll tell it to you someday when you’re older. For now, I just want you to know how lucky you are to have an Uncle Joe who worries about you and your sisters and wants to take care of you.”

  Sandy loved her uncle and felt a little ashamed for making Maggie think that she didn’t. “I know. He tries real hard.” She looked up at Maggie, feeling an instant wave of sympathy, though she didn’t know the word for it. “Didn’t you have an Uncle Joe?”

  “No, I didn’t.” Neither one of her parents had had anyone in their family who wanted to take on the burden of helping a down-and-out man with four children to raise.

  “If you didn’t have a mommy or a daddy, or an Uncle Joe,” Sandy added quickly as a postscript, “who took care of you all?”

  “I did.” She had meant only to bolster the little girl’s spirits and make her feel better. Maggie had had no intentions of walking down old, shadowy paths again. It seemed, she realized, that since Joe Sullivan had entered her life, she had done nothing but walk down those paths, and frequently.

  Joe and Adam had to be wondering where they were. “C’mon, the others are probably worried about you.”

  She ushered Sandy around the corner. In the distance, she saw the door to the screening room closing. Had Sullivan gone looking for them? If he had, he certainly hadn’t had far to go. Why hadn’t he said anything?

  “I was good, wasn’t I?” Sandy asked shyly, bringing Maggie’s attention back to her. The note of pleasure managed to squeak through in her voice.