by Kathryn Shay
Heather sat in the office waiting for the Monday-afternoon group. Nothing had gone right since Ron died. She’d just begun to feel better, had begun to believe that the pain would go away. Then, after his suicide, it had gotten worse. Though Ms. Carson had helped at first, the old hurt was back now and as bad as ever.
Needing to move, she got up and prowled around the small room. The sun streamed in through the windows and she let it warm her for a moment. She fiddled with the pale yellow cardigan Aunt Beth had bought her for spring then stuck her hands in the pockets of the matching pants. She moved to the desk and picked up a picture. She’d noticed it before but never up close. It was a woman in a wheelchair who looked like Ms. Carson.
“Hello, Heather,” she heard from behind her.
The girl whirled around, picture in hand. She felt funny about the photograph. “Who’s this?”
Ms. Carson glanced at it. “That’s my sister Lisa.”
“How come you never talk about her?”
The counselor hesitated the way all adults do when they’re not sure how much to tell you. It made Heather mad.
“You never told me you had a sister in a wheelchair. Like Jason.” Heather scowled and gripped the picture tighter.
Frowning, Ms. Carson crossed to her chair and sat down. “No, honey, I didn’t tell you about Lisa. Does that bother you?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Heather set the frame down, buying time. Because maybe it makes me feel you’re interested in me for some reason besides that you like me. “I don’t know.”
Just then, Matt Barone sauntered in. He’d exchanged his leather jacket for a lightweight green windbreaker that made his eyes sparkle. He still wore denims and his boots. “Hello, Ms. C. How ya doin’?” Without waiting for an answer, he ruffled Heather’s hair. “Hi, princess. I got a great joke today.”
Before she could respond, Sandi arrived. She didn’t look good. Usually, her hair was fluffy around her shoulders and it made her beautiful. But she’d pulled it back today. Her eyes were red and there was something wrong with the side of her face. “Yo, guys,” she said as she plunked down into a seat.
Covertly, Heather watched Matt watch Sandi. His eyes narrowed, but when Sandi looked up at him, he winked at her.
Turning away, Heather took her own chair. Ever since Ron’s suicide, the two had been closer and she was jealous. Tammy hadn’t called her much, her dad’s hours were crummy again, and Ms. Carson hadn’t been to the house in over a week. Now she was losing Sandi and Matt to each other. She felt stupid and childish about not liking that about them, but she couldn’t help herself.
Ms. Carson scanned all three of them. Her eyes were still sad. “Okay, Matt, let’s hear your joke.”
Balancing his chair on its back legs, Matt linked his hands behind his neck. “What do you call one hundred rabbits in a row?” When no one answered, he finished, “A hareline.”
There was polite laughter. “What do you call one hundred rabbits in a row walking backward?” Again, no response. “A receding hareline.”
When the humor fell flat, Ms. Carson rose, circled the desk and sat in a chair facing them. “How is everyone today?”
No one spoke. Everybody looked away. The counselor let the silence go on, the way she always did until somebody got uncomfortable enough to talk. Another adult tactic.
Matt finally broke the tension. “I got a B in English. Ms. Radson says my compositions are more ‘focused and discreet.’”
Suddenly, Sandi stood. “I’m gonna book. No offense, Ms. C., but this ain’t helping me much anymore. Ever since Ron...Damn, we’re not gettin’ anywhere anymore. I don’t feel better. I hurt. This ain’t...”
Ms. Carson leaned over with her forearms on her knees. “Then we should talk about why this group has been on hold since Ron committed suicide.” Her voice was shaky and it worried Heather.
Silence closed in around them like an early morning fog.
Matt righted his chair with a thud. “Because nobody’s sharin’ what’s really bothering them.”
Again, silence. Finally, Ms. Carson spoke. “Matt’s right. It’s got to happen here. Ron wouldn’t share and he couldn’t survive. You three have to open up.”
Tears formed in Heather’s eyes. The group was falling apart, too, and she wasn’t sure she could make it without their help.
Ms. Carson eased off her chair to crouch in front of her and took hold of her hands. “Heather, why are you crying?”
First, Heather shook her head, sending blond locks flying. When Ms. Carson asked again, she blurted out, “Because it hurts so much, I can’t stand it anymore.”
Suddenly, Sandi moved and squatted next to her and Matt moved his chair closer. “Tell us about your pain, kid.” When Heather didn’t respond, Sandi added, “If you do, I’ll tell mine.”
Heather looked at her friend and smiled weakly. “Promise?”
“You got it, girl.”
Then Heather glanced at Ms. Carson. “You won’t like this.”
She saw the look of surprise flicker in the counselor’s bright blue eyes, but Ms. Carson moved back and perched on the edge of her chair. “I don’t like spinach, either, but I eat it because it’s good for me. Tell us, Heather.”
Taking in a deep breath, Heather held her gaze. “I heard Dad and Aunt Beth arguing last week. You saw her, didn’t you?”
She watched Ms. Carson grip the sides of her chair. Now I’ll know how honest she is. If she lies to me, it’s all over.
“Saw who?” Matt asked, a frown marring his handsome forehead.
Ms. Carson’s eyes got sad but she answered firmly, “Heather’s mother. Yes, honey, I saw her at the party I went to with your father.”
“You been datin’ Heather’s old man?” Sandi asked.
Still watching Heather, Ms. Carson nodded. “Yes.” After a moment, she looked at the two others. “Heather and I have discussed this. Does it bother anyone else?”
“Not me.” Matt’s voice was suddenly very male. “You’re a great-looking broad.”
“And he’s hot,” Sandi interjected.
Momentarily, Heather smiled at their remarks. But the tears came back when Ms. Carson’s gaze swung back to her. “What did you overhear?” she asked.
Heather didn’t want to tell the whole awful story, but it all came tumbling out. She fingered the watch Grandpa had given her for her thirteenth birthday as she talked and looked at the floor. “Daddy said that you’d run into her. That you’d talked to her. That you and him had a fight about it. Aunt Beth told him he was a stubborn mule and he told her to mind her own business. Then she used words I’d never heard her use before and she stormed out of the house.”
Ms. Carson stepped forward to kneel in front of Heather. “Did you talk to your dad about this?”
“Of course not. It hurts him to talk about her.” She was close to tears again. “What does she look like, Ms. Carson?”
“Honey, your dad’s asked me not to talk to you about that night. I...haven’t made any decision about that request, but if I do tell you anything, I’d have to let him know first. Not get his permission, but not do anything behind his back, either. Do you understand?” The counselor reached for Heather’s hands.
Laying her head back on the seat, Heather closed her eyes. “I think so.”
“Look at me, Heather.” When she did, the counselor continued, “Why don’t I promise to speak to him this week, and you and I will meet on Thursday and talk about it?”
Heather nodded.
“Are you okay with that?”
“Yeah.”
Amanda stood and sat back in her own chair. Watching Heather, she knew the girl was not all right. She, herself, had put off another confrontation with Nick by not contacting him after the gala and he’d done the same by not calling her for ten days. But it was time for action. She glanced at Lisa’s picture on her desk. She’d fight for Heather no matter what the cost. Unfortunately, Amanda knew in her heart
exactly what price she would pay. Biting her lip, she heard Heather address Sandi.
“Okay, your turn. You said you’d come clean, too.”
Sitting back and steepling her hands, Amanda watched Heather. There was a lot of her father in her.
“I...I don’t know where to start,” Sandi stammered.
Amanda turned to the girl. Sandi had been getting more and more morose over the last few weeks. Keeping her voice calm, Amanda suggested, “Why don’t you tell us how you got that bruise on your face.”
Absently, Sandi played with a loose tendril of hair and studied the floor.
From the corner of her eye. Amanda saw Matt’s hands fist. She’d have to be blind not to see that Matt and Sandi were getting close, but she didn’t know the depth of their relationship.
Finally, Sandi looked up with huge eyes that reminded her of a wounded fawn. “He did it.”
Amanda swallowed and tried to keep from tensing. “Who, Sandi?”
“My stepfather.” The words were almost inaudible. Matt started to say something but Amanda raised her hand to stop him.
“He hit you?” The girl nodded. “Is this the first time?”
Sandi closed her eyes and sagged against the vinyl. “No, it’s not.”
Matt reacted then. Sliding to the edge of his seat, he smacked one open hand with his fist. “That son of a bitch, I’ll kill him.”
“No, please,” Sandi begged, reaching over to him. “That’s one of the reasons I didn’t want you to know.”
Staring at her, Matt sank back into his chair, his whole body taut.
Amanda waited for a moment, then said, “You know I can’t allow this to go unreported, Sandi.”
“Yeah. I want you to do it. I’m sick of this shit.” She began to cry.
Heather got up and went to the girl and hugged her. “Ms. Carson will help you, Sandi. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Glancing at the counselor, Sandi said, “I know. She’ll help us all, just like she always has.”
o0o
When she was alone in her own house at ten o’clock that night, Amanda felt the full weight of her responsibility. She was glad the kids had opened up again, and she hoped she could live up to the trust they’d placed in her.
She needed to start tonight. With Heather.
Staring at the phone, she sipped a glass of chardonnay. It hadn’t taken her long to reach her decision, even though she knew the consequences. She simply had to broach the subject of Suzanne with Nick again. Heather was in crisis because of the unresolved issue of her mother.
Images of Lisa and Ron swam before her as she dialed Nick’s phone number, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. Heather had said he’d be home by nine.
“Hello.” His husky baritone washed over her.
Amanda paused, then cleared her throat. “Nick, it’s Amanda.”
He paused, too, and his own voice was hoarse when he responded. “Hi, honey.”
The endearment brought tears to her eyes. He obviously took this call as a sign that she was ready to make up. Instead, she was going to tear their relationship apart irrevocably.
After waiting for Amanda to begin, Nick asked, “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“You sound upset.”
“It’s been a rough day.”
“Yeah? Mom said Heather looked whipped when she came home. She had a little supper and went straight to bed.”
So she didn’t talk to you. Okay, Amanda, this is your opening.
But she couldn’t do it. All her strength was gone. She should have waited until tomorrow to call him. Everything flooded her at once. Ron’s suicide and her guilt over it. The loneliness she’d felt without Nick all week. The constant worry over Heather. Amanda just couldn’t let Nick go right now. Not another loss.
She began to cry. She knew it was unfair to do to him on the phone, but she’d lost control. Sobbing, she sank into the chair.
“Mandy, please, what is it? Stop crying and tell me.”
“I...can’t.” I can’t stop crying and I can’t tell you.
After a few seconds, Nick said, “I’m coming over. The kids are both asleep and my mother’s staying the night because I have an early meeting tomorrow.”
A chill skittered through Amanda. “No, Nick, please, not tonight. I can’t do it now, I just can’t.”
“You don’t have to do anything. Just let me take care of you.” With that, he hung up.
Amanda berated herself for her weakness. She shouldn’t have broken down on the phone. She should have demanded he stay away. Because she knew in her heart she couldn’t resist his comfort tonight. She hurt too much, and she would take solace from him one last time before she told him of her decision. Hating herself for her weakness, she sipped her chardonnay and waited anxiously for him to arrive.
He pounded on the door fifteen minutes later. Amanda thought she had herself in control until she saw him standing there, hair ruffled by the wind, concern darkening his eyes. He came inside, closed the door and barely got his jacket off before she threw herself into his arms.
Clasping her to him, he soothed her hair with his hands and her soul with his words. “Shh, it’s okay, I’m here. I’m sorry I left you alone all week. I was pouting. I’m not mad anymore.”
You will be, she thought miserably as she burrowed into his chest. She grasped his neck tightly and inhaled the familiar scent of him
After a moment, Nick guided her to the couch and tried to seat her next to him. But she curled onto his lap, burying her face in his shoulder.
“Is this about Ron? Come on, tell me.”
Oh, God, no. If she told him, when she told him, he would never hold her again, never kiss the backs of her knees, never whisper into her ear erotic love talk of what he was going to do to her. Though she’d lived so long without that in her life, she wondered if she could do it again, knowing what it was like to be with Nick. So she decided to take one more time, just for herself. She’d tell him afterward. “No. Not now. Make love to me, instead.”
He stilled. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. You’re overwrought. We should talk about this.”
She began unbuttoning his shirt. “I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to listen. I want to forget about death and pain and making choices. I want to touch you.” She ran her fingers up his chest. “I want you to touch me.” Taking his hand, she covered her breast with it. She felt her nipple bead instantly against his palm. “I want to do everything to you I never dared before.” Sliding her hands to his groin, she cupped him through his jeans. That got a reaction, literally and figuratively. He moaned into her mouth and grabbed her tighter. It cut her loose. She pulled at the rest of the buttons on his shirt and they went flying. Tearing it off his shoulders, she went for his belt.
“Easy.”
Ignoring the concern in his voice, Amanda scrambled off his lap and onto her knees. She yanked at his jeans and dragged them down with his underwear. When his Nike running shoes got in the way, she tore at them and his socks. Finally, with free access, she buried her face in his lap. “Oh, God, Nick, I want all of you. Please,” she begged, taking him into her mouth.
He groaned from above her and when she looked up, she saw him grip the pillow on the couch. “I couldn’t stop you if I wanted to. Do you know what you do to me?”
“Tell me.” She continued her gentle torture. “Tell me every erotic thought you’ve ever had about me.”
He didn’t, though. He only moaned again. Amanda kept caressing him until he dragged her up from the floor and pushed her to her back into the cushions. Hovering over her, he said, “You are so rare, so precious. You mean so much to me, I...”
But she grasped his long, hard length and guided him to her so he was unable to finish. He plunged deeply into her. Amanda felt his touch go straight to her soul.
“Yes, Nick, yes. Take me. Love me. Make me forget.”
It only took a thrust or two, they were both so re
ady. “I…” But Nick could no longer articulate.
“I love you, Nick, I love you...love you...love you.”
Minutes later, Nick gazed down at Amanda, sensing something was not quite right. It was more than the fight they’d had. He was ashamed of himself for not calling her, because obviously she had needed him. And not just physically, though she had wrung him out so fast and so completely that he wasn’t sure he could get up from the couch. Easing onto his elbows, he studied her well-loved face. “Let me move, I’ve got to be heavy on you.” Passion still clogged his throat. He smiled lovingly at her and was shocked to see her tears glisten in her eyes. Smoothing back her hair, he said, “Oh, Mandy, tell me. Nothing can be this bad.”
Her eyes darkened and the depth of suffering, and the...what was it?...fear...he saw there alarmed him.
“Amanda?”
“Please, Nick, just take me upstairs and love me again. Stay with me tonight. I’ll tell you in the morning?”
He wanted to object, to erase her pain now, he was so sure he could do it. But some primordial fear gnawed inside of him. Do it her way, DiMarco, it told him
So he rose from the couch, picked her up and carried her to bed. There, he made love to her twice more through the night and completely forgot about his earlier foreboding. He left her sound asleep at 6:00 a.m., setting the clock for an hour later, and whistled his way home. It was a beautiful crisp morning, he’d had the woman he loved in his arms all night and everything was going to work out just fine.
o0o
He was whistling again at ten o’clock that night as he waited for Amanda at his house. The kids were settled down and he’d changed into clean jeans and a navy polo shirt. He leafed through a law journal, passing the time. He didn’t know why she’d called him from school today to ask to see him tonight, but he knew one thing that was going to happen.
He planned to tell her he loved her. He’d withheld the declaration for too long and last night he’d realized he had to verbalize it. He loved her and he wanted a future with her. The two of them and Jason and Heather. Wouldn’t the kids love it?
Tossing the magazine down, his mind settled on Heather. She’d been skittish around him all night, but she would be fine when he told her he was going to marry Amanda. Everything would be all right. He wondered if Amanda would want to have a baby. The thought of her carrying their child made him ache inside.
