*DISCLAIMER**
Scarecrow & Mrs. King is copyrighted to Warner Brothers and Shoot The Moon
Production Company. The original portions of this story, however, are
copyrighted to the author. This story is for entertainment purposes only and
cannot be redistributed without the permission of the author. Situations and
some dialogue have been used from the episodes “Stemwinder, Part One” written by
Robert W. Gilmer and George Geiger; “Nightcrawler” written by George Geiger; “Do
You Take This Spy?” written by Robert W. Gilmer, Tom Chehak and George
Geiger; “Mission of Gold” written
by Lynne Kelsey; “One Flew
East” written by David Brown; and
“The Kruschev List” written by
Lee Maddux. And of
course, the song "True Companion" by Marc Cohn, which just happened to be
playing on the radio when I was thinking about this story. No infringement of copyright is
intended.
Title: True
Companions
By:
Mary
Rating: "R" for situations in parts one and
four…
Summary:
An inside glimpse at "Scarecrow and Mrs. King" through four very different sets
of eyes…
TRUE COMPANIONS
PART ONE:
LEE STETSON
“FATE”
Three years and four months
after meeting Amanda King at a train station in Virginia, I married her. If any of my associates had asked me
back then if that day would ever come, I would have laughed out loud - right
after suggesting a quick trip to Dr. Pfaff, our agency’s resident shrink. After all, I’d spent the better part of
my life avoiding emotional entanglements of any kind. Somehow it just seemed safer to live
that way.
Of
course, ‘safe’ is something I only applied to my personal life. Professionally, I’d never shied away
from taking chances, risking life, limb and other parts I won’t mention on more
than one occasion. The greater the danger, the better I liked it. It was probably the main reason I’d
become an intelligence operative in the first place.
“You’re
a spy?” Amanda asked incredulously as I tried to charm her into helping me.
Although it’s a term I’d never cared for, it summed my life up pretty
accurately. My days were spent
gliding effortlessly from one dangerous scenario into another, while my nights.
. . well, let’s just say those encounters held even more intrigue and
excitement. A dangerous profession
like mine deserved some fringe benefits.
Unfortunately,
not everyone shared that opinion.
“If you want to waste your life chasing shadows, go right ahead,” my uncle told me when I announced I’d just been recruited by the Agency, an elite organization with a top-secret profile. I tried to bite back the caustic remark that immediately sprang to mind, having learned long ago that disagreeing with my paternal half-uncle was a lost cause. The man had begrudgingly taken me in at age four and never lost an opportunity to remind me that raising an orphan was an obligation no righteous man could shirk. Yes, Colonel Robert Clayton always did his duty. And he made no secret that mine was to follow him into the military.
“I
thought you’d be happy I finally decided to do something serious,” I responded
sarcastically, despite my good intentions. He had made it crystal clear after
I’d been asked to leave that last university that I’d better clean up my act or
he’d do it for me. Granted I had, as the Colonel so succinctly put it, changed
colleges as often as I changed socks, but I did finally manage to graduate. I’d
even secured a job for which there had been a slew of qualified applicants. Most parents would have been
proud.
“Well,
Skip,” he rejoined, invoking the old nickname I hated, “when you wash out of
this, too, don’t come running back here. You’re on your own this
time.”
“I
always have been, Sir,” I replied, turning on my heel and walking away. For the first time in the course of our
tenuous relationship, I’d rendered him speechless.
We
saw each other only sporadically after that incident, a few stray lunches and
dinners spread thinly across the years.
That is, until Amanda. She
somehow managed to change patterns and responses that had been drilled into both
of us for as long as I could remember.
Believe me, where the Colonel and I were concerned, that was no small
miracle.
Of
course, in those days, I wouldn’t have recognized a miracle if it had jumped up
and bit me on the ass. I was pretty cocky back then, determined to be the best
of the best in my new profession. I
think at first I was so driven to succeed merely to prove my uncle wrong.
However, I soon discovered that after what seemed like years of searching, I had
finally found my niche. Fresh from my training, I was prepared to defend my
country from all enemies, foreign and domestic.
I
was immediately shipped to London.
It
was the last place on earth I wanted to be. A token tribute to inter-agency
cooperation was hardly the way I’d intended to begin my illustrious career, and
veteran MI-5 operative Emily Farnsworth was definitely not the person I’d
anticipated working with. I just didn’t see her as a sp. . . operative. Conservative in word and dress, she
appeared more suited to infiltrate a formal tea than a counterfeiting ring. I
decided she would soon find me more than competent for our simple little
assignment and I would be off to bigger and better things.
Instead,
Emily merely seemed to find me amusing.
“A gun won’t get you out of every situation, my boy,” she stated in staid
British tones. “You have to learn
to use your brain, not your brawn. ” I would later discover that Lady Farnsworth
was really an American from Santa Barbara who’d married into her British
heritage, but she seemed to instinctively understand that it worked to her
advantage in my case. While I was reluctant to offend a Brit on my freshmen
mission, I was just brash enough back then to have told a fellow American
exactly where she could put her unsolicited advice.
Of
course, Emily was right. What
working in Intelligence requires more than anything else is. . . intelligence.
Patience, control and, above all, looking before you leap. Emily Farnsworth
taught me all that, along with what it means to have a true friend in a business
where that can often be a distinct liability. By the time I headed back to the
States, I knew exactly how lucky I’d been on my first venture into the twilight
world of espionage.
That
luck didn’t hold too long, though, and on my next endeavor I thought my uncle
might at long last get his wish to see me in uniform. Along with a select group of seasoned
agents, I found myself loaned out to Army intelligence for a brief stint in
Vietnam. It may have been a plum
assignment for a rookie like me, but it didn’t seem that way trudging through
the steamy jungles near Da Nang. When I was recalled stateside six months later
I was thankful to be returning to D. C. with all my parts still in good working
order.
I
expected to be assigned to one of the outlying bureaus for a few years, but it
seemed I was slated for bigger things when shortly after my return, I was chosen
for the prestigious Oz Network by Paul Barnes.
It
was a real coup to be working for him. The Wizard, as his codename so aptly
dubbed him, was already an Agency legend at the tender age of thirty-two.
If
Emily Farnsworth and the Southeast Asian jungle had started to teach me
restraint, Paul Barnes seemed determined to finish the job. “You’ll be a good
agent when you finally develop a brain,” he chided after I’d demonstrated my
penchant for foolhardy stunts one time too often. Grinning from ear to ear, he promptly
gave me my official codename. “Stick with the Wizard, Scarecrow,” he told me,
“and we’ll see about replacing that head full of straw with something a little
more functional.”
I
never repeated that to anyone, neatly sidestepping Amanda’s incessant
questioning on the subject during the first year of our partnership. Of course, in those days, sharing
personal confidences was a habit I’d lost long ago. But even when those early
feelings of annoyance had been replaced with a strong friendship that was well
on its way to something more, I still managed to dodge the issue. I told myself I was too embarrassed to
admit that ‘Scarecrow’ had once upon a time stood for something else entirely,
but deep down I knew there was more to it than that. While my still evolving brain insisted
that Amanda cared enough to accept me flaws and all, I was reluctant to
acknowledge that most of my macho reputation was really nothing more than
bravado. She had a way of
looking at me that made me feel ten feet tall, and a part of me still foolishly
clung to my Superman image. If I
confessed how far it was from the truth, she might realize that deep inside lay
a frightened four year old still crying for his parents.
It
was while I was under the Wizard’s care that I experienced my first really
serious relationship. Appropriately enough, her codename was ‘Dorothy’. When she
joined the team, our connection was instantaneous. We just had so much in
common. We were almost exactly the same age, our birthdays less than a week
apart. She’d lost her parents in an
accident when she was ten and had been shuttled back and forth between
indifferent relatives. We both felt we’d finally found the sense of family we’d
been searching for in Paul’s elite team.
“Oz
never had it so good,” she liked to joke, her eyes crinkling up when she laughed
in the way I grew to love.
We
had six months together. Then one day our world exploded in a barrage of gunfire
on a routine mission that went sour. The Russians had a nice little export
business operating out of the Silver Spring Airport, running weapons out of the
country hidden in boxes of flowers. Long stemmed roses, to be exact. We arrived
at the field that morning to shut them down, but suddenly the tables turned.
When the gunfire finally subsided, my hero Paul Barnes had been temporarily
neutralized and two team members lay dying on the hard ground.
I
found Dorothy’s body on the middle of the deserted airstrip, riddled with more
bullets than I cared to count. Everywhere I looked, I saw those damned roses -
red ones, the same color as her blood. I cradled her in my arms, trying to
breath life back into her, but the hands that had held mine just that morning
remained deathly still. And our shiny future was suddenly reduced to three words
on a piece of paper.
Agent
killed – betrayed.
*
* *
Oz
recovered from the blow, but I had a harder time of it. While my affection for
Paul Barnes was still as strong as ever, the memories were too fresh, and I left
the network shortly after Dorothy’s death.
I spent a brief stint with European Operations before finally settling
into the D.C. office under the scrutiny of brand new Section Chief Billy
Melrose. By that time, I had honed my reputation for pushing things to the
limit, taking impossible missions and succeeding where more cautious agents
failed. Truth be told, I enjoyed
living on the edge. Taking chances appealed somehow to my twisted sense of
order. As if I was daring fate to
fix the mistake she’d made when she’d taken everyone I loved and left me still
standing.
A
lone wolf.
And
at the time that was just the way I wanted it. I didn’t even like to work with a
partner. I’d made that mistake only once, relaxed my guard long enough to let
Eric Jarvis into my life. Why Billy thought we would work well together, I have
no idea. We were a pretty unlikely team. Eric had grown up in a big family; I
was the consummate loner. And for some unfathomable reason, my new partner
seemed determined to change all that.
Not
too long after Billy put us together, Eric dragged my reluctant butt to
Christmas dinner at his parents’ house. “Sitting around stuffing your face with
guacamole and feeling sorry for yourself is no way to spend the holiday,” he
bullied, refusing to accept my usual excuses. “We watch football at our house,
too. I’m not taking no for an
answer.”
It
was the first real family Christmas I could remember. Hanging around the mess
hall on countless Air Force bases when I was growing up didn’t count. As I told
Amanda once, fighting over the dark meat with four hundred other guys didn’t
make for a very festive holiday.
After
that, Eric and I developed a pretty close friendship, working together by day
and carousing together by night. I
allowed myself to depend on him, trust him, like him. It lasted for almost two years. Until fate reared her ugly head once
again and delivered him the bullet that was slated for me.
I
reverted to type after that, tackling difficult assignments solo once again.
Which is what led me to that particular train station one cloudy October
morning.
I
was busy doing what I do, on my way to a drop with a package that was the key to
plugging our departmental leak. Unfortunately, I’d brought two Russian goons
along with me. You can always tell the KGB by the way they dress. . . their
suits never quite fit. Anyway, Ivan and his ‘brother’ were hot on my tail and I
knew I had to think of something – and quickly.
That’s
when I spotted her – a special delivery from Fate, carefully disguised beneath a
tan coat and scarf.
At
the time, I didn’t think the meeting had any great significance beyond
expediency. Amanda King was an
emergency, nothing more. I intended
only to alter my game plan, not my whole life. After all, I’d employed the same
tactic in Munich with great success. There was no reason it shouldn’t work
again. She was supposed to simply pass on the package, then pass right on out of
my life. Lucky for me she never did
anything she was supposed to do.
Of
course, it took me a while to recognize just how fortunate I’d been that day.
I’m sorry to say that in the beginning I saw her as more of a curse than a
blessing, laughing along with my good friend and fellow agent Francine Desmond
over Amanda King’s total lack of everything.
Although
I probably should admit that my slightly bruised ego might have been the one
doing the talking. The only things she really lacked were the pretense and
artificiality of the empty-headed girls who usually attracted me.
She
was a divorced mother of two living in Arlington with her mother and her sons.
She valued her home and her family. She was a real person with real emotions,
the kind of woman who genuinely saw the good in everybody, even me. She had everything I’d secretly longed
for all my life. No wonder I ran
like hell in the opposite direction.
I
hadn’t had much experience with women.
Well,
okay, let me qualify that – I hadn’t had much experience with the caring,
nurturing types like Amanda. I’d grown up in a totally male environment and the
closest thing to a mother I’d known was old Barney Dorsey, the mess hall
Sergeant on my uncle’s air base.
Amanda
was a good mother. You only had to see her with her two sons, Phillip and Jamie,
to know that. Despite the lack of a
permanent male influence in their lives, Amanda made them feel happy, secure and
loved.
Yet
I suspected even then that she had a lot more than motherhood inside her. And I didn’t think she should be wasting
it on that bozo she was dating when I met her.
Dan,
Don, Dean. . . hell, whatever his name was, he didn’t belong with Amanda. It
only took one look at his plaid jacket to know the guy gave ‘boring’ a new
definition. I just couldn’t picture
the two of them together.
I
told Amanda that very thing, and it was shortly afterwards that she stopped
seeing him. I kind of expected her
to turn her attention to me when they broke up. I knew she had a crush on me. I recognized all the signs – the
flustered talk, the furtive glances when she thought I wasn’t looking. So I got
ready to offer her the usual brand of Stetson charm, all the while preparing my
standard speech, office version – ‘Amanda, we are business associates, nothing
more.’
I
never got to use it. To my chagrin, I discovered that my conceited little
fantasy couldn’t be farther from the truth. Evidently, Amanda King found my usually
irresistible charms totally resistible.
I
was intrigued. The only thing she was prepared to offer me was the last thing I
sought from the opposite sex – friendship. At the time, my only female friend of
consenting age was Francine.
And
even that had started in the bedroom.
A few years ago we’d played a thoroughly enjoyable little game of
‘backgammon,’ as Francine jokingly referred to our brief physical liaison. I knew at the time I wasn’t the only guy
Francine had played that particular game with, so I was kind of shocked to
discover she’d taken our interlude much more seriously than I had. When I realized what was happening, I
quickly pulled out the speech, trying to let her down easy. That any kind of friendship survived the
experience was, I suppose, a testimony to both of us. Though maybe that’s why at times we
seemed more like friendly rivals than actual friends.
After
Francine, I swore that I would never again blur the lines between personal and
professional. And I have to say, while I managed to date my way through most of
the Agency at one time or another, I never extended anyone else true
friendship.
Until
Amanda. I don’t know what it was
about her that made me break my hard and fast rule. I didn’t even want to work
with her at first. It was Billy Melrose who insisted on throwing us together.
She was a nuisance and, at the same time, a necessity. A hindrance to my job and
the greatest asset I’d ever found.
She was an aggravating pain in the ass yet had an uncanny knack for
making me laugh. She was hopelessly
average and at the same time, uncommonly beautiful. In other words, I’d never
felt so confused in my entire life.
Since
it was my fault that she’d ended up in this crazy business in the first place,
the very least I could do was make certain she stayed safe. I told myself that
every time I reached for her hand while we were on a case; every time I swung by
her house late at night on my way home; every time I pulled her against me in
the name of our cover. The funny thing is, for the longest time I actually
believed that was true.
Then
one day, I finally pushed things past the breaking point. The trouble with
undercover work is that sometimes the lines between what’s real and what’s not
aren’t so clear anymore. Playing my part with a little too much gusto, I
accidentally slapped her.
“It’s
okay,” she whispered, unable to meet my eye, but I knew it wasn’t. The look on
her face said it all. I’d hurt her – maybe not physically, but in a way that was
much more painful. I wanted to take her in my arms and kiss the ache away, but
my stupidity had just rendered that impossible. I settled for a stumbling
apology that did little to convey what I was really feeling.
Naturally,
she forgave me; she was just that kind of person. She forgave her ex-husband for
deserting her and their two small children, so what was a little slap compared
to that? We fell back into our friendship when the case was finished, but it
wasn’t as comfortable anymore, at least not for me. Something had changed.
I
had changed.
*
* *
We
began to work together more frequently. I’d just been handed the Q-Bureau and
Amanda, for all intents and purposes, became my partner. ‘Unofficially
official’, as Billy liked to say, she was suspended in the gray area between
civilian and agent. Our personal
life seemed to have that same status, too. We certainly weren’t dating, but we
were spending more and more of our off-duty time in each other’s company. I told myself it didn’t mean anything;
after all, she was my best friend.
It was only a concert here, a simple dinner there, a night shivering
together in a swamp. We were just two cold people, right?
“Not
exactly,” she answered enigmatically, and for the first time, I started to
believe that might be true.
Until her ex-husband suddenly hit town a few months later. Accused of murder and on the run, Joe King had never appeared more vulnerable, and I watched as the past tugged at my Amanda with invisible emotional strings. Of course, she didn’t know I thought of her as ‘mine’ - I’d foolishly believed we could continue our little dance until I felt ready.
Unbelievably, when the smoke cleared, she was still there. I didn’t think she would be, especially when I saw her in Dooley’s Bar with her ex. But when she looked across the room and caught my eye, her face told it all. Joe King might have hold of her arms on that small dance floor, but I had hold of her heart. In that moment I knew that I was undeniably in love with her.
After
that night, we moved ahead, seemingly more certain that the convoluted path we
traveled would ultimately bring us together. It was full of twists and turns,
moving us forward in leaps and bounds, then driving us back. Admitting to myself
that I loved her didn’t automatically change either one of us. We were still the
same two people who could disagree over something as simple as the
weather.
I
got a taste of that first hand when Billy ‘assigned’ her to nurse me back to
health in the aftermath of the Brody case.
Five days of enforced bed rest may have been good for my concussion, but
it turned out to be a bit more than either of us could handle. Of course at that point, the last thing
I wanted to do with Amanda in bed was rest; even so, I instinctively knew that
it wasn’t the right time to embark on a physical relationship. However, knowing
it and feeling it were two entirely different things, and by the time I got back
to the office, my mood had gone from bad to worse.
I
don’t know whether Amanda was taking my nitpicking in her usual stride, or if
maybe she just understood my misplaced frustration better than I did. She always
had an uncanny way of knowing what I was feeling, even when I couldn’t express
it. But I couldn’t stay aggravated at her for very long, as she once again
proved her talent for seeing those obscure little clues I sometimes overlooked.
That’s
when I realized the unthinkable had finally happened. Not only did I love her, I was fast
approaching a point where I couldn’t get by without her.
I
was no longer a loner.
*
* *
The
realization rocked me for a moment, but I quickly recovered my equilibrium and,
making the best of my new situation, decided it was time to get to the source of
my frustration.
Amanda
King.
While
I knew we couldn’t just jump into bed, I thought it was time to at least move in
that general direction. After what
seemed like a run of absurdly bad timing, I took matters into my very capable
hands one morning. Telling fate in no uncertain terms that I was the one in
control, I locked our office door and proceeded to kiss
her.
I
was totally unprepared for my reaction.
Touching
my lips to hers this time was unlike anything I’d ever imagined. Oh, we’d kissed
a few times in the line of duty and even shared a wonderfully flirtatiously
little peck a few weeks ago on her patio. I thought I knew what to expect, but
this was entirely different. When she ran her hands over the lapel of my coat, I
could have sworn I felt my spine tingle.
“Yeah,”
she breathed, shaking her head, so I knew that whatever it was, she’d felt it
too. As my mouth closed over hers, I could feel the emotion welling up inside
both of us, demanding to be released. I pulled back for a minute, looking into
her eyes. I saw total acceptance
there, and a love that had ever so patiently granted me the time I needed to
complete this three-year journey home.
Burning all my bridges, I leaned forward again. This time, she opened her
mouth, and I felt her tongue against mine. I shivered. Then, like a starving man
at an all-you-can-eat dinner, I practically devoured her.
We
continued that way for what seemed like hours, but was in reality only a few
minutes. “Maybe we’d better, ah, finish that report,” I stammered, still
overwhelmed by the unexpected intensity of our encounter.
“Yeah,”
she whispered again, her fingers moving to gently wipe her lipstick off my
face. I kissed them tenderly as
they moved over my lips, my eyes still on hers.
“That
report,” she reminded me with a smile, seeing that I was in no shape to
remember.
I
sat at my desk, trying in vain to concentrate, but it wasn’t any use. Having
Amanda right across from me was too distracting, and after a few more minutes I
abandoned even the pretense of work.
“Come
on, let’s get out of here,” I said, grabbing her hand and practically dragging
her to the door. “Billy’s report can wait until tomorrow.”
For
once, she didn’t seem inclined to argue. We spent the rest of the day together,
sharing a quiet lunch, walking along the Potomac hand in hand and doing the
silly things people in love usually do. At sunset, I reluctantly relinquished
her to her family, but not before indulging in another series of spectacular
kisses as we said goodbye in my car.
If I’d had a better day, I couldn’t remember it.
We
spent the summer officially ‘dating’, stealing whatever time we could to be
together. I was more certain than
ever that I loved her, but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to say the words
anywhere except in my head. Who
knows how long I would have been struck dumb if Alexi Makarov hadn’t intervened.
Using the Stemwinder War Games as a springboard, the crafty Russian sorcerer
wove a complex web of lies, turning my own Agency against me and forcing me
underground. I didn’t know when I’d be able to see Amanda again. Even though I
had a strong suspicion that she knew exactly how much I cared, I couldn’t
disappear without giving voice to my feelings at least
once.
When
I finally spoke the words to her face, she looked almost embarrassed. She told
me later it was because she was scared. Not of Alexi or the mess we were in at
the Agency, but of the power of our feelings for each other. Scared or not, she
insisted on coming with me. I made a feeble attempt to keep her out of the line
of fire, but she pushed my arguments aside.
“I’m
all mixed up in this, too,” she told me, and I knew she was talking about more
than Stemwinder. “It might be
dangerous for my family if I stay here and I can’t do anything to help them from
an Agency holding cell,” she finished, her rationale logical and
precise.
“And
I love you, too.”
That
was one justification I couldn’t refute. Besides, I told myself, searching for a
way to validate my selfish need to have her beside me, she did have a point. I’d
come to rely on her in the field. I might not be as effective alone.
Those
days we spent together on the run were both heaven and hell. Even though Dr.
Smyth, the Agency’s Director of Covert Operations, had forced through a shoot to
kill order, we still had each other. The joy of waking up beside her every
morning might have been tempered by circumstance, but it was joy
nonetheless. Part of me wanted it
to last forever.
But
as all things do, it came to an end. Alexi was caught, his frame-up exposed and
we returned to our lives. Amanda went home to her family, and I returned to an
apartment that seemed even emptier after the time we’d spent together.
I
knew then that I wanted to marry her.
I
didn’t act on that revelation, though. Amanda had been accepted into the Agent
Candidate Program, and she was suddenly inundated in freshman class work. I decided it would be more prudent to
wait until the newness of her status wore off before making her an official part
of my personal life, too.
So
I bided my time, mulling the idea over as I tried out different scenarios in my
head. I saw myself in a tux, with roses and champagne, solemnly asking her to be
my wife. Sometimes we were at the train station, me in a red hat, casually
handing her a package that contained a suitably romantic proposal.
Of
course, when I did ask her, it wasn’t the way I had planned it at all. Fate
stepped in once again and laid waste to all my careful plotting. The setting was
far from ideal, her hostage cell in a house that was a front for a ruthless
terrorist group. I wasn’t entirely sure either one of us would live to see the
light of another day. Despite our
precarious situation, she answered me in typical Amanda
fashion.
“We’re
the luckiest two people on the face of the earth,” she gasped, sitting on a
rumpled cot in a room guarded by a madman. Only my Amanda could see things that
way.
I
did manage to do a little better when I gave her the engagement ring, though.
I’d given the matter a lot of careful thought while she’d been recovering from
the aftermath of her kidnapping and finally decided on a plan.
I’d
missed her while she’d been on leave after our rescue. We hadn’t seen much of
each other since she’d agreed to marry me. After the ordeal she’d been through
at the hands of that lunatic Addi Birol, she deserved some quiet time with her
family, and I didn’t feel comfortable with them just yet. While I had managed to
introduce myself to her mother in her absence, things hadn’t progressed much
farther. My sudden appearance at her dinner table would open a can of worms we’d
both prefer to keep closed at the moment.
Truthfully,
her family made me more than a little nervous. I wasn’t sure exactly where I fit
in. Children were foreign territory
to me, and I didn’t have the foggiest idea how to relate to two young teenagers.
I was beginning to understand how clueless my uncle must have felt when I’d been
deposited on his doorstep. I didn’t know what kind of a stepfather I’d make, but
I wanted things to be different for me with Phillip and Jamie. Personal experience had taught me that
the Colonel’s boots were not the ones I wanted to walk in.
So
I bided my time, alone again in the office I’d come to regard as ours. Her empty desk seemed to be waiting for
her return, just as I was.
Looking around, I noticed all those little Amanda touches, marveling that
in the few short months her desk had officially occupied that spot, she’d
managed to almost remake my workspace. The same way she’d remade my life. I knew then that her desk was the
perfect place to make our private life official as well.
She
seemed to appreciate the sentiment. After I slipped the ring on her finger and
leaned in for a kiss, she flashed me a cryptic little smile that I didn’t know
how to interpret. Her voice barely more than a whisper, she told me that she’d
thought only life and death situations brought out the romantic in me. My confusion must have shown in my face
because she brushed her hand gently across my cheek and kissed me again. Her laughing brown eyes reflected the
sparkle of the diamond on her hand and I knew that, despite the trauma of the
last few weeks, she was happy.
We
both were.
*
* *
Unfortunately,
the rose-colored glasses were soon ripped from both our eyes.
It
started out as another routine case. A Vietnamese delegation bent on destroying
accord with the U.S. decided to use my friend Kai’s son as a bargaining chip. We
managed to rescue little Kim and defuse the situation with the Vietnamese, but
the damage had been done. As I put Kai and his family on a plane for California,
it wasn’t his children I saw, it was Phillip and Jamie.
I
knew then that I’d been kidding myself.
A marriage, children, a sprawling house in the suburbs. . . it was a
beautiful dream, but one built on shifting sands. Fate was too stern a mistress to allow
me even the facade of a normal life. As much as I longed to be part of Amanda’s
family, I’d have to settle for being a secret part.
“We’ll
make the best of it,” she stated stoically when I told her, and her tone said
that she’d recognized the problem long before I did. A nagging voice in the back
of my head told me to let her go, to allow her have a normal life with someone
else, maybe even someone like Joe King.
But
I couldn’t do it.
Maybe
it was selfish, but I’d crossed the point of no return long ago and now it was
too late.
And
so we married in secret, traveling all the way to Marion so we wouldn’t be
discovered. It was a small ceremony without any of the usual wedding fanfare.
Just the Justice of the Peace, the two of us, and His Honor’s nosy clerk for a
witness.
It
didn’t matter to me. In a cathedral or a cabin, all I wanted was to make Amanda
King my wife. She looked so
beautiful in her simple classic suit, her eyes bright with happy tears. Her
voice almost broke when she repeated the vows, and I could feel her hand tremble
when I slipped the ring on her finger.
“You
kiss now,” the clerk said unnecessarily as we were pronounced man and wife.
I
didn’t need a second invitation. Smiling, I leaned down, and for the first time,
my lips touched the lips of Amanda Stetson. It produced a euphoria that was
almost indescribable.
The
feeling lingered as we finished up the paperwork, grew stronger as we thanked
the judge and his clerk and showed no sign of abating as we headed into the
brisk February night. Maybe this is
what happened when you made a lasting commitment to another person, I mused;
maybe this was ‘normal’. If that
was the case, then normal was something I could definitely live with.
We
paused by the car, and I felt the gentle pressure of her hand in mine. It was
already dark and in the foggy light from the streetlamp, she had never looked
more beautiful.
“Are
you hungry?” I asked, reaching out to brush a stray hair from her face.
“Not
for dinner,” she whispered, her hand caressing mine where it rested on her
cheek. Looking down, I saw the
desire in her eyes rivaled my own.
“Why
don’t we just head over to the inn?” I suggested, leaning in to press a kiss on
her lips. They were wonderfully pliant, warm and inviting. I traced them lightly
with my tongue.
“Step
on it,” she murmured, reaching into her coat pocket and handing me the
keys.
As
I slid behind the wheel, I wondered again how we’d ever been lucky enough to
find each other. Amanda and I were
finally married; and we had an entire week together to enjoy
it.
*
* *
I
smiled at my new wife as we pulled up in front of the Crystal Springs Inn. It was a picturesque little place, off
the beaten track, and Amanda had fallen in love with it at first sight. When I
saw that special light in her eyes, I knew it would be the perfect place for our
first night together as man and wife.
Actually,
it was our first night together, period.
Oh, we’d shared a bed last fall during the Stemwinder mess and on our one
weekend ski trip to Pinetop, but our activities had been confined to sleeping
and little else. A few years ago if
someone had told me I would have been with a woman for this long and still not
had sex with her, I wouldn’t have believed it.
But
Amanda was different. At first, I’d
hesitated because I didn’t know quite how to deal with my feelings for her. Then
later, I had waited out of respect for hers. And at the end, simply because I
loved her so completely that I wanted our wedding night to be special. When she
smiled up at me in the lobby of that quaint little inn, I knew that the wait had
been worth it. And when her hand closed possessively around mine, I was equally
glad that it was finally over.
Of
course, as it turned out, we were damned to wait just a little longer. Due to some sort of snafu I couldn’t
quite decipher, housekeeping was still working on the second floor. The
management was suitably apologetic, but it did little to alleviate the
frustration we were both feeling.
The next thirty minutes seemed more like thirty hours as we were forced
to watch the maid finish her cleaning checklist. Where they found their help, I
have no idea, but it was little wonder the rooms weren’t ready on time. The
woman moved like a snail. I was beginning to think it might take her the rest of
the night just to finish this one.
I
could feel Amanda’s impatience as she stood next to me in front of the
fireplace, beating her head against my shoulder in sheer exasperation. “I know, I know, I know,” I mouthed,
wondering whether it would be bad form to bodily eject the offending housekeeper
from the room. Who needs satin sheets, anyway? I was pretty sure everything I
needed was standing right next to me.
The
maid finally finished her routine and giving her handiwork an approving nod,
left us alone. Turning to Amanda, I
immediately kissed her, releasing the pent up passion I’d been suppressing for
months.
“Wow,”
she whispered when our lips finally parted. I felt exactly the same way.
Smiling, I kissed her again, pulling her closer.
“Oh,”
she said in surprise, evidently feeling the full extent of my need as I pressed
up against her. My hands slid down over her hips and she made a small groaning
sound, returning my kiss with equal desire. I walked her slowly towards the bed, my
lips never leaving hers.
“Lee,”
she gasped as we broke apart, her hands caressing my chest lightly.
“Wait…”
“Wait?”
I replied, not quite comprehending. “Amanda, we’ve been waiting for three and a
half years. I’m not sure I have much more ‘wait’ in me.” I kissed her again to
emphasize my point.
“Just
give me three and half minutes,” she whispered breathlessly, kissing her way
down my neck. “I want to change out
of these clothes.”
“I
could help you,” I grinned, slipping my hands underneath her jacket.
“I’m
sure you could. But I think I need to do it myself. . . this time.” She looked
up at me, the expression in her brown eyes an odd mixture of promised passion
and nervous anticipation. I ached
with love for her.
“Take
all the time you need,” I whispered, trying to curb my enthusiasm as my lips
brushed though her hair. “I’ll be right here.”
“I
just need a few minutes,” she reiterated, “and my overnight case. I have a
little something in here I think you might appreciate.”
“I
don’t think I could appreciate you much more,” I teased, folding her in my arms
again.
“Yeah,
I can tell,” she laughed, trying to hide the catch in her voice by moving her
hands across my back in maddening little circles. “But let me try anyway. It will be worth
it. . . I promise.”
What
man could argue with that? I let her go, watching as she disappeared into the
bathroom. As the door clicked closed, I let out the breath I’d been holding,
exhaling loudly as I deposited my jacket and tie in a nearby chair. The collar
on my shirt suddenly seemed uncomfortably tight and I paused to undo it, my
fingers fumbling over the small buttons.
Evidently the nerves Amanda had felt a few minutes ago were contagious. I
circled the room a few times, absently smoothing my hair, contemplating the
enormity of the step we were about to take. This wasn’t just a casual acquaintance
behind that bathroom door; it was Amanda, my partner, my best friend, my. . .
wife.
That
realization was almost overwhelming. I’d waited for her for so long. Faced with
the prospect of actually having her, I suddenly had no idea what to do next.
Although far from being a novice in these matters, the moves that had served me
so well in the past now seemed horribly inadequate. Sighing, I switched off the bright
lamplight, praying that the friendlier glow from the fireplace would cover my
uncharacteristic confusion. From day one, Amanda King had complicated my life;
it should come as no surprise that she would complicate my sex life as
well.
The
door opened abruptly, and Amanda walked through it. She stood across from me in a silky
negligee that left very little to the imagination, brushing the hair from her
face as if she didn’t quite know what to do with her hands.
“Hi,”
she murmured shyly, her eyes darting from the fireplace to the bed before
finally fixing me in their gaze.
“Hi,”
I echoed, watching her in quiet fascination. In spite of her uncertainty, she still
seemed to possess such effortless grace while I, the great ladies’ man, was
reduced to a mountain of jelly.
I
stood there like an idiot, wanting to go to her but incapable of telling my feet
to take me there. I might have
stayed in the same spot all night, making love to her with my eyes, if she
hadn’t suddenly made everything all right. Her lips parting in a smile, she
sighed sweetly. What had appeared so complicated was suddenly reduced to its
simplest form.
She
loved me.
And,
letting the feeling flow through me, I discovered I knew exactly how to show her
that I loved her, too.
“You
look beautiful,” I whispered, automatically closing the distance between us.
Her
delight in the compliment spread across her face. “Thank you,” she answered,
absently smoothing the front of her nightgown.
“And
you were right. . .” I traced the curve of her cheek with my finger. “The wait
was. . .” Leaning down slightly, I kissed her forehead. . . “Most definitely. .
.” Following the path my finger had taken with my lips, I paused briefly by her
mouth… “Worth it,” I finished, my mouth covering hers in a long, deep
kiss.
“Oh,
Lee,” she whispered when I finally let her catch her breath. “I’ve wanted this
for so long. I can’t even tell you. . .”
“You
don’t have to tell me anything,” I murmured, my face buried in her neck. “I
already know. . . I feel the same way.”
Her
hands moved up and down my back, straining against me, forcing me to hold her
closer. Then suddenly, she pulled away, her eyes sparkling as they rested on
mine. “If I don’t have to tell you,” she began, her fingers playing along my
chest, “then let me show you. The way I’ve wanted to. . .”
She
smiled up at me then, her tongue lightly moistening her lips as she reached for
my shirt. Her fingers moved quickly, adeptly releasing the remaining buttons.
Tugging on the bottom, she pulled my shirttail from my trousers, her hands
slowly massaging my chest as she worked her way up to my shoulders. Every so often she paused, burying her
face in my skin, her lips kissing, teasing, caressing.
It
felt wonderful. She pushed my shirt off, letting it fall to the floor, then made
quick work of my belt, undoing the buckle and pulling it from the loops. Dropping it, she turned her attention
elsewhere, and I felt my stomach muscles clench involuntarily as she pushed
against them. She nimbly worked the button on my trousers and tugged the zipper
down, and I sucked in a breath as her fingers trailed over
me.
“Wow,”
she whispered again with the hint of a smile, this time giving the word a whole
new dimension.
“Is
that a wow of approval?” I joked, shooting her an inquiring look. Even the most
self-confident types can use a little reassurance in a moment like
this.
“Oh,
definitely.” She laughed then, the
mellow sound rippling over me seductively as she moved closer. “Although at this
point, I’d say it’s still in the preliminary stages.” She flashed me a sultry
grin. “I’m reserving the final ‘wow’ for later.”
Her
overt sexuality caught me entirely by surprise. It seemed totally at odds with
the picture she presented to the world. Amanda really was an amazing mixture of
contradictions, an alluring seductress disguised beneath flowing skirts and
matching sweaters. She never ceased to amaze me.
“Yeah,”
she muttered as I reacted to her touch, her teasing tone belying the seriousness
of her face. “Most definitely later.”
“Oh,
Amanda,” I sighed, anticipating what was about to happen between us. The thought
alone was taking me places I didn’t want to go yet, and I vainly tried to recall
the rushing yardage from the recent Super-Bowl. It would be kind of embarrassing to have
this end before it even started.
Realizing
the effect she was having, her movements stilled and she took a small step
backwards. Her eyes roamed over my body as if taking inventory. She moved her
hand slowly and sensuously across my chest, coming to rest on the healing wound
from the bullet that had grazed me earlier in the week.
“Does
it still hurt?” she asked seriously, her fingers lightly stroking over it.
“Not
when you do that,” I told her with a smile, covering her hand with my own.
“Besides, I’ve had worse.”
She
nodded and removed her hand, suddenly subdued. She tried to cover her reaction
by turning away, but she wasn’t quick enough, and I could see her struggling to
keep the concern in her eyes from turning to fear. She walked over to the
fireplace, staring into the comforting flames, searching for an answer there we
both knew she’d never find.
“Amanda,”
I said, moving towards her, trying to avoid tripping over the trousers that were
still around my ankles. I took a minute to kick out of my shoes, pushing the
offending clothing out of the way as I peeled off my socks. Coming up behind her, I wrapped my arms
around her.
“You
know it’s all just part of the job,” I told her, softly kissing her shoulder.
“I
know.” She crossed her arms over mine, encouraging me to hold her
closer.
“And
I’m careful.” I squeezed her reassuringly. “Nothing’s going to happen to me if I
can help it.”
“I
don’t want to lose you,” she sighed, leaning her head back against my shoulder.
“Especially after last week.”
“I
know,” I whispered as I tightened my embrace. I’d just had a narrow escape from PD-2,
a new chemical weapon developed by the Russians, and we were both still a little
shaken. I hadn’t looked my own mortality that squarely in the eye for quite some
time. I sighed deeply, resting my
cheek tenderly against hers.
“I’ve
always known it was a possibility,” she continued, giving my arms a gentle
squeeze in return. “It’s just that.
. .” She fell silent as she looked into the fire again.
“That.
. .” I prompted, wondering a little at her reticence. I was the one who usually
needed a crowbar to loosen my feelings.
“I
don’t know. . . it just hit me. As hard as it would have been before. . . after
tonight, it’s going to be a thousand times worse. I don’t know if I could stand
it if something. . .”
“It
won’t,” I told her quickly. “I promise.”
“You
can’t promise that, Lee, and you know it.”
“Maybe
not,” I agreed soberly, “but, Amanda – there are risks in just plain living
every day. Maybe in a way we’re luckier because we recognize that better than
most. And we’ll make every day count.”
She
tensed for a moment, then I felt her relax against me. “Starting tonight,” she
whispered, turning in my arms.
“Starting
tonight,” I responded, my mouth seeking hers. She parted her lips, opening
herself to me, offering me both her body and her heart. The emotions she
awakened seared my soul, and for the first time since I could remember, I
offered myself equally in return.
“I love you, Amanda Stetson,” I whispered roughly when we parted. “I
don’t think you have any idea how much.”
“It
can’t be as much as I love you,” she murmured in reply. “It wouldn’t be
possible.”
“Come
on then,” I said, stepping away from her. “I think it’s time we showed each
other.” I extended my hand, my lips turning up in an expectant smile.
“Way
past time,” she answered, her fingers grasping mine. Hand in hand, we moved
together toward the bed.
*
* *
Stopping
at the edge, we faced each other. This time, I took the initiative, resting my
hands on her shoulders and gently fingering the straps of her nightgown. Leaning in, I touched my lips lightly to
hers, moving from her mouth down her neck and shoulder. Her perfume heightened
all my senses, more intoxicating than the champagne that still lay untouched in
the ice bucket. I moved back across her collarbone, my tongue pressing into the
hollow of her throat. I could feel
her rapid heartbeat. Pausing for a
minute, I pulled away to look at her. She smiled back, and I saw the unspoken
permission in her look.
I
slid the straps of her negligee down. She really was so beautiful. My eyes drank
in every detail – the emotion hiding behind her eyes as they boldly met mine;
the way her dark hair framed her face, almost brushing her shoulders; the small
freckles that dotted the smooth skin of her chest; the gentle swell of her
breasts as she drew the ragged breath that spoke her desire. I reached out, my palm tenderly
caressing the smooth curve of her cheek.
She
closed her eyes and sighed. The sound played like an erotic melody in my ears,
and I gently cupped her face in both my hands, drawing her towards me. My lips
closed over hers, the kiss building until I heard her breathing quicken. I felt
her hands in my hair, her fingertips trailing tantalizingly along my scalp. I
buried my face in her neck, drinking in the delicate scent that belonged to her
alone.
“Lee…”
My
name on her lips excited me, and I kissed my way back up towards her mouth.
Pressing my body to hers, I felt her hands stroke across my back then rest for a
moment on the elastic of my boxers. I helped her remove them, tossing my last
piece of clothing across the room to land on the pile in the middle of the
floor. She stood motionless for a fraction of a second, the edge of her tongue
resting in the corner of her mouth, her expression unreadable as her eyes swept
over me from head to toe. Then, taking a deep breath, she looked up and caught
my eye. She grasped the folds of her nightgown and drew it up over her head ever
so slowly. I watched it drop to the
floor, a silken puddle at her feet.
She
was totally naked beneath it. I don’t know why it astonished me, but it did. My
body reacted instantly to the sight, my eyes moving over the slim yet
provocative form that had reduced me to such a frenzied state of desire. I had
never wanted a woman more, never needed anyone on such a primordial level, flesh
and spirit and soul.
I
reminded myself to breathe, inhaling and exhaling with studied slowness. I wanted to tell her what I was feeling,
but found my brain incapable of forming even the smallest syllables. She seemed
to know anyway, or maybe her feelings just matched mine, for she stepped closer
and took me in her arms. Reveling in the feeling of her smooth skin against my
own, with nothing between us, I kissed her deeply. She responded with equal
passion, our hands roaming freely as our mouths joined again and again.
Our
touching became heated, our kisses demanding more and, gasping, we both fell on
the bed. It was an age-old sexual
journey, yet one I realized I had never truly appreciated until this
moment. By this point, I was
usually too firmly focused on the ultimate goal to fully enjoy the little side
trips along the way. Tonight, with my wife, foreplay seemed to have a beauty and
symmetry all its own. The most
amazing emotions rushed over me, yet at the same time I felt we were moving
almost in slow motion. I was keenly aware of the most inconsequential things;
the slightly dampened tendrils of her hair as they curled around her face, the
rhythmic thumping of our hearts as I crushed her against me, the flash of the
rings on her finger as her hand traveled down my body.
“Lee.” The sound of my name reached me
from a distance, a whispered prayer in my ear. “I want you so
badly.”
“I
want you, too,” I choked out in gravelly tones.
“Now.
. . please.” The urgency in her voice struck a familiar chord and my world was
suddenly reduced to tactile sensations and immediate needs. I clasped her hands
tightly, and as her eyes locked on mine, I felt our souls joining along with our
bodies.
I
knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I could never let her
go.
*
* *
We lay together in silence. Amanda’s head
rested contentedly in the hollow of my shoulder, the fingers of her left hand
lazily tracing imaginary patterns on my chest. I reached out and clasped that hand in
mine. In the dwindling firelight, I could barely make out the rings on both our
fingers, but I could feel them there, a symbol of our commitment for all the
world to see. At least for the next week.
There
were so many things I wanted to say to her, but try as I might, I couldn’t form
the words. I didn’t know why, even after the intimacies we’d just shared, it was
still so hard for me to give voice to my feelings. Instead, I contented myself with holding
her, my lips brushing through her hair, trying to convey with a touch everything
I wanted to put into words. We stayed that way for a time, our arms and legs
tangled together, so close that it was hard to tell where I stopped and she
began. Then I heard her
sigh.
“Amanda,”
I asked, turning her face towards mine. “Are you okay?’
“Yes,”
she replied quickly, her arms tightening their hold. “I’m more than okay.” She
placed a series of feather light kisses across my chest. She was quiet for a
minute, then she spoke again, this time in a voice so low I had to strain to
hear it.
“Lee,
can I ask you something?”
“Anything,”
I responded, surprised by the plaintive note in her voice. Releasing her, I
rolled over, leaning up on my elbow to look down into her eyes. “There’s nothing I won’t tell
you.”
“Was
everything… I mean, when we… was it. . .”
I
reached out to gently stroke her cheek with the back of my hand. “It was
perfect. I can’t believe you have to ask that.”
“Well,
it’s just that after waiting so long. . . I was afraid maybe reality might not
live up to fantasy.”
“Oh,
it did and then some. “ I grinned, kissing her lips lightly. “And believe me,
I’ve had some pretty vivid fantasies this past year.”
“Me,
too.” Her low laugh sent a shiver up my spine and I could feel the stirring of
desire once again. I leaned in to
take possession of her mouth, but she spoke again before I had the chance. “But I’ve been a little worried,
too.”
“About
what?” I drew back, suddenly puzzled. She’d never given me any indication that
she was concerned about our physical relationship. In fact, the brief glimpses
of passion we’d shared, especially during the last two weeks, had been evidence
to the contrary.
“You’ve
had so much more experience than I have,” she explained, turning onto her back
and staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t want to disappoint
you.”
“There
is nothing about you that could disappoint me, Amanda,” I assured her, lying
back down beside her and pulling her close. “I thought we’d talked this through
at Pine Top when we decided to wait.”
“I
know we did,” she answered in low tones, “but it all seemed much more academic
back then. ” She snuggled into my arms, but I could still sense a small
hesitancy in her embrace, and I realized that the only way to lessen her
insecurity was to confess my own.
“You
know,” I murmured softly, my hands caressing the smooth skin on her back, “maybe
I have a few things I’m worried about, too.”
“Really?”
she answered and, in typical Amanda fashion, her voice immediately filled with
concern.
“Really.
I, uh. . .” I exhaled loudly, mentally cursing myself for still stumbling over
the words. I’d started this, now I needed to finish it. “I just. . .”
“Tell
me,” she said simply, squeezing my hand as she entwined her fingers with
mine.
“I
just hope. . . that I’m able to be the husband and step-father I want to be,” I
finished in a rush. “I may have had more experience in some areas, but Amanda -
where this family stuff is concerned, you’re definitely the senior
agent.”
“Oh,
Lee. . .”
I
felt her hand on my cheek, gently turning my face to hers. I could see everything she felt for me,
everything we felt for each other, so clearly reflected in her eyes. I allowed
her to pull me into a kiss.
“I’ll
make you a deal,” she said when at last we parted. “You help my with my
insecurities and I’ll help you with yours.”
“Sounds
like a good plan to me.” I leaned
in again, lightly tracing her lips with my tongue. “I could start right
now.”
“Right
this second?”
I
could almost feel her desire running like a hidden undercurrent beneath the
seemingly innocent words. “Even sooner,” I responded, nibbling tantalizingly on
her lower lip before engaging her in a heated kiss. “Remember, though,” I
admonished as my mouth relinquished hers, “experience or not, it’s been a while.
. . I may be a little rusty.”
“Oh,
yeah?” she teased, and I could hear the laughter back in her voice. “If you call
that rusty, I think I’m in trouble.” Her hand trailed seductively down my chest,
belying the truth of that statement. “Although, you know what they say,
Scarecrow,” she whispered, her breath hot in my ear. “It’s just like riding a bike. You never
forget.”
“Is
that so?” I grinned, rolling suddenly and pulling her on top of me. “Then in
that case, Mrs. Stetson, would you care to go for another ride?”
“Only
if it’s a marathon,” she replied, her face inches from
mine.
“I’ll
give you the entire ‘Tour de France’ if you want it,” I murmured, my mouth
against hers.
She
smiled, and, parting her lips with my tongue, we began our journey.
*
* *
The
sunshine filtered in through the window, hitting me in the face. Rubbing at the
spots dancing behind my eyes, I turned my head away from the light and rolled
onto my back, displacing Amanda’s hand from my waist. She moved with me,
murmuring indistinctly as she turned onto her left side, and I knew that she
wasn’t quite ready yet to start the day. We’d only spent a handful of mornings
together, but already her sleeping and waking noises were becoming almost second
nature to me.
She
sighed again, pulling the sheet around her as she snuggled down into the
mattress. Her hair fanned out across the pillow and I gently fingered a few
strands, marveling again at the remarkable woman lying beside me. She’d
certainly earned some well-deserved rest.
We
were both thoroughly enjoying every moment of our newlywed status, so much so
that we’d almost missed our flight to California yesterday. I’d deliberately
made the reservations for late afternoon, not wanting to rush our first morning
as husband and wife, but I’d underestimated my new wife’s innate ability to
transform even mundane things like breakfast into a sensual exploration. I was starting to believe she might just
be right when she called it the most important meal of the day. She’d certainly
made it the most exciting. We’d arrived at Dulles with only minutes to spare,
winging our way across country in an exhausted daze. I made a mental note to
stock up on strawberries and whipped cream when we got
home.
It
supposedly never rains in southern California, but popular song lyrics aside, we
were greeted by a steady drizzle when we reached our hotel, thwarting my plans
for a suitably romantic stroll beneath the stars. Ever the optimist, Amanda
immediately found the silver lining.
“A
perfect excuse for room service,” she grinned, and my complaints about the
uncooperative climate died on my lips when I saw the look on her face. I said a
silent prayer that housekeeping on the west coast was more efficient than its
east coast counterpart. I couldn’t wait to escape to the privacy of our room,
couldn’t wait to have her in my arms again, her slim body fitted so perfectly
beneath mine.
Making
love with Amanda was so different from anything I’d ever experienced. I’d known
for a long time that I loved her, but I was totally unprepared for the depth of
the connection I now felt. Maybe because we’d been best friends long before we’d
ever been lovers, the new bond we’d just forged seemed so much
stronger.
I
thought about all the glamorous, jet-set women who’d littered my past, all those
brief physical encounters I’d deemed so exciting. In actuality, they were all
only hollow imitations of the real, emotionally fulfilling passion I’d
discovered with a simple housewife from Arlington. But maybe that epithet was the real
oxymoron after all. There was nothing simple about the wonderful woman who slept
so contentedly beside me.
She
stirred and sighed, and this time I knew she was waking up. I rolled over,
fitting my body against her back as I pulled her close. “Good morning, Mrs. Stetson,” I
whispered, kissing her bare shoulder.
“Good
morning to you, Mr. Stetson,” she answered, turning in my embrace.
I
smoothed the hair from her face, leaning in to kiss her awake. “Sleep
well?”
“Wonderfully.
What time is it, anyway?”
“What
does time matter on a honeymoon?” I quipped, my lips trailing down her
neck.
“I
think it matters to your old pal Barney,” she laughed. “Especially if we’re
going to meet him at. . . Lee,” she
exclaimed, pushing me aside as she looked at the clock. “It’s after ten o’clock.
. . we’re gonna be
late.”
“We
have time,” I insisted, burying my head in her neck. “We don’t have to be at his
house until eleven thirty.”
“Maybe
by a man’s standards we have time,” she laughed, “but not by a woman’s. I’ve got
to shower, fix my hair, put on some make-up. After all, he’s one of your oldest
friends.”
“Don’t
worry, he’ll think you’re incredible.” I kissed her again. “Just like I
do.”
“I
love you, too, but I still have to take a shower,” she grinned, and I
reluctantly released her.
“Okay,
okay. I give up.” I watched her rise, glancing regretfully over her shoulder as
she left the bed. I rolled over, hugging her pillow to my chest, letting out a
deep breath as my eyes followed her wonderfully supple body as it disappeared
into the bathroom. Her new ‘naked’ look really seemed to suit her, and I
marveled that she seemed to have no qualms about letting me enjoy
it.
I
heard the sound of running water, and I was just thinking how easily we’d
embraced this latest intimacy when her head popped around the door. “I thought
you
were
in a hurry to get your shower?” I asked, wondering what she was up to.
“Oh,
I am,” she began, her lips curving up in the most seductive smile I’d ever seen.
“But there’s no law that says I have to shower alone, is
there?”
“None
that I can think of,” I laughed, whipping the pillow across the room in my haste
to join her. She disappeared into
the bathroom and I followed, eyeing the large Jacuzzi longingly. ‘Later,’ I
thought with a grin as I slid behind her in the much smaller shower.
The
quarters may have been a little cramped, but neither of us seemed to mind. The
water beat down, filling the stall with steam. She turned and smiled at me, and I
watched, mesmerized, as she lifted her face up to the water, a look of delight
in her eyes as it cascaded over her face. She reached for the soap but I caught
her hand, my fingers lingering for a minute on hers.
“Let
me,” I mumbled, taking the bar from her hands.
“With
pleasure,” she said, trailing her hand across my chest.
Rushing
off to Barney’s house was suddenly the last thing on our minds. We were lost
again, deep within the sensuous world of our own making, those tentative moments
of our first few times now a thing of the past. I knew she wanted me every bit as much
as I wanted her. I closed my eyes, delighting in the pure joy of simply being
alive. I loved the feel of her body
wrapped so tightly around mine, loved the tremor in her voice as she spoke my
name, loved the way her eyes flashed in the heat of passion, loved. . . her. My Amanda. My wife.
*
* *
“California
was a great idea for a honeymoon.” She flashed me her typical smile as we drove
along, her eyes mapping the scenery while her fingers mapped my thigh.
I
caught her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Getting married was a better one. You
know what, Barney’s gonna love you. He’s like family – and while my uncle was
traipsin’ around the world, he stood in like a sort of back-up dad. I spent more
time in his mess hall than I did in school.”
“What
did he say when you told him we were going to be late?”
“Nothin’
much. He just laughed and said he should have known better than to spend all
morning cooking.” I saw the expression on her face and I laughed, too. “Amanda,
it’s fine, really. I’m only kidding.”
“I
wanted to make a good impression.” She gave me a playful slap on the leg.
“Hey,
don’t mess with the driver when he can’t fight back,” I teased. “Seriously, you
have nothing to worry about. He said it was no problem, and he’d just meet us at
the pier instead.”
“The
pier?”
“Yeah,
there’s someone there he wants us to meet. He wouldn’t say on the phone, but I
think he’s gotten involved in. . . something. I know, I know,” I said, reacting
to her look. “No work on our honeymoon, but. . .”
She
smiled. “But he’s your surrogate father, and you love
him.”
“Yeah,”
I said sheepishly, amazed again at her ability to put a label on my unnamed
feelings. “I guess I do.”
“You
want to tell him we’re married, don’t you?”
“Well,
Amanda – he doesn’t know anyone we know, except my uncle. And he won’t say a
word if we ask him not to.”
I
glanced at her as I pulled the car to a stop. The look in her eyes said it all –
she was dying to tell someone, too. She nodded her head, flashing me her best
conspiratorial grin. I thanked her silently, smiling at the thought of actually
calling her my wife in the presence of someone I knew. It didn’t seem fair
somehow that no one knew the most important fact in both our lives. I’d never
realized that some secrets would be so hard to keep.
I
gave her hand one last squeeze before we both got out of the
car.
“Get
down – get down, Lee; they’re shootin’!”
Barney’s voice hit me like a ton of
bricks before I even had the door closed. Reacting instinctively, I ducked for
cover, yelling a quick warning to my partner. “Amanda, get in the
car!”
Barney
and another old geezer joined me, all of us crouching together behind the back
fender. Bullets pierced through the peaceful morning, then suddenly stopped. My
eyes cautiously swept the perimeter. “It looks like it’s clear but be careful,
let me go first.”
Everything
was quiet. I nodded back at Barney and his pal, then turned to Amanda, shaking
my head ruefully as I opened the door. I opened my mouth to call her name, but
the words died on my lips. That’s when I saw it. . . the tiny hole that had
caused the crackling effect on the windshield and an almost identical circular
pattern on her chest.
“Oh
my God. . .”
*
* *
The
wait seemed interminable. The afternoon had faded into evening as Barney and I
sat in the small corner of the Community Hospital. I shook my head, looking
around at the facilities. If we’d been in D.C. or even a larger city, N.E.S.T.
and anything else she needed would have been right at our fingertips, but I’d
had to bring her to this sleepy little town.
“Don’t
lose hope,” Barney told me, and I remembered him saying those same words to me
when I was ten years old and my uncle’s plane had been missing.
I
told him. About Amanda, our marriage, how we met. . . everything. I talked, the
words pouring out, as if by speaking them I could keep her with me. Then,
suddenly, there was nothing left to say.
Barney laid a comforting hand on my shoulder, but I was lost again, alone
with the memories.
“Mr.
Stetson, Dr. Neely would like to see you now.” The nurse’s words cut through the
oppressive silence of the waiting area.
“How
is she,” I asked as I jumped up, unable to read anything from her demeanor. “Is
she all right?”
“Follow
me, please.”
It
wasn’t good news, then. She would have delivered good news herself.
“I’ll
be right here if you need me,” Barney muttered, his thoughts evidently running
in a similar direction.
I
bit down on my lip as I followed her to the ICU, meeting the doctor as he came
through the door. I tried to get past him. I didn’t want to hear him say the
words.
He
barred the way.
“Ah,
Mr. Stetson, I’m Dr. Neely.” He caught my eye, then looked briefly away before
facing me again. “She’s out of
surgery, but I’m not going to kid you, we still have a long way to
go.”
“She
is going to be all right. . . isn’t she?” I refused to hear what he was
implying.
“The
next few hours will be crucial,” he informed me in the same professional tone
I’d used myself when I’d had to break similar news to some victim’s distraught
family. “It’s a miracle she’s alive. The bullet went through her chest - a
fraction of an inch higher either way and she wouldn’t have had a
chance.”
“When
can I see her?”
“It’s
going to take a while, and there’s nothing here for you to do.” I tried to slip
past him again, but his hands stopped me. “Get some rest, but leave your number.
I’ll phone you.” He paused, and I read the carefully hidden concern in his eyes.
“Please, Mr. Stetson. . .”
“All
right,” I answered tersely, heading back to Barney. He was standing in the
waiting room with another man, some representative from the local
police.
“Lee.
. .” Barney’s eyes asked his unspoken question.
“She’s
alive, but it’s. . .” I paused, taking a quick breath, “it’s touch and go. The
next forty eight hours are going to tell.”
“This
is Sheriff Borderhouse, Lee.” Barney indicated the uniformed man standing beside
him.
“Pleased
to know you,” the sheriff mumbled almost indistinguishably.
“He’s
going to need a statement,” Barney continued. “I’ve told him what I could.”
“It’s
not urgent, Mr. Stetson,” Borderhouse replied kindly. “Barney says you’ll be
staying with him, so I know where to find you. We’ll get to the bottom of this, that I
guarantee.”
Damn
straight we will, I thought angrily, wishing there was something, someone, I
could punch to put a stop to the pictures that kept flashing in my head.
“Thanks, Sheriff,” I muttered, dismissing him. I’d deal with this myself.
“Barney, I have to make a phone call.”
I
turned towards the pay phone, trying to think of something to tell her mother.
Nothing came to mind, except the unwelcome images I couldn’t banish - my uncle’s
sternly solemn expression when he told me my parents were never coming home; the
sickly sight of roses littered over Dorothy’s torn body; the slightly puzzled
expression on my partner Eric’s lifeless face; and a bloodstain on a white
sweater, a crimson inkblot I knew only too well how to interpret.
I’d
heard the regret in Barney’s voice earlier, knew he’d felt responsible, but it
wasn’t his fault.
It
was mine.
I’d
been selfish, foolishly thinking we could have it all. I had scoffed at fate,
broken all my carefully constructed rules and let her get too close. But this
time, I wasn’t the only one who had to suffer for it. Now her family, too, would
be forced to pay my bill.
Taking
a deep breath, I dialed the phone.
* * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
PART
TWO:
DOTTY
WEST
“Phillip
King, hang up the phone this instant,” I said, trying to keep the exasperation
out of my voice. My oldest grandson had abominable telephone manners. He’d kept
that thing tied up for hours, and I was expecting a call from my occasional
boyfriend, Captain Curt.
“He’s
talking to Nancy Crawford,” Jamie muttered, rolling his eyes as he tried to
sneak a cookie from the jar. He had developed a sweet tooth as a toddler, and
Amanda and I both fought an endless battle with his atrocious eating habits.
Fruits and vegetables were just so much healthier for a growing boy – especially
one with braces.
I
gave him a look that conveyed exactly what I thought of that particular snack.
Shrugging his shoulders, he accepted the orange I offered. “She makes him call
her at least twice a day, Grandma,” he added, working industriously on the
peel. “They’re in
love.”
“Your
brother may be in love, but he’s going to be in the doghouse if he doesn’t HANG
UP THAT PHONE,” I repeated, raising my voice to emphasize the last few words.
Adolescence really was the most trying time. I remembered when Amanda was a
teenager – the phone ringing at all hours of the day and night, waiting up for
her to come home from a date, worrying about where she was going, what she was
doing - and whom she was doing it with.
Come
to think of it, life hadn’t changed much some twenty years later. I guess
motherhood is one job that doesn’t come with a retirement package.
I’d
moved in with Amanda and the boys a little over five years ago. My husband Carl
had just died, and we were all reeling. To make matters worse, Amanda was going
through a painful divorce. She needed me; we needed each other. Loss is never
easy to take, no matter what form it comes in.
I
loved being a daily part of their lives. It gave me something new to focus on,
something positive. Although I soon discovered raising two rambunctious boys to
be a tiny bit more challenging than raising a daughter. Well, maybe challenging isn’t quite the
right word. Whatever it was, it was definitely messier. What wonderment little
boys see in the great outdoors, I’ll never be able to fathom. Maybe that is the
fundamental difference between the sexes after all – boys aren’t able to have
fun unless they can get dirty. As far as I was concerned, trees could most
definitely be left to the birds. I
preferred to do my camping at the Holiday Inn.
Still,
it was good to be needed. Though there were times lately that I felt more like
their mother than their grandmother. I’d been standing in for Amanda at
countless functions, both in school and out. She was so wrapped up in that job
of hers that she was hardly ever home. She’d totally forgotten about Phillip’s
last open house at school and missed seeing Jamie play Rip Van Winkle last year
at Family Night - after she’d given me her solemn promise to be there. Why, she’d even had to work on Christmas
Eve.
Of
course, if it was work that had her so enthralled. I wasn’t entirely
convinced. I had a few theories of my own on that score, but I hadn’t been able
to get a straight answer from her yet. Over the last few years, my daughter had
turned dodging my questions into a new art form.
I
couldn’t help hoping that one of these days, she’d decide to remarry and settle
down. We really could use a man around the house - if for nothing else than to
keep Amanda from attempting any more plumbing repairs. We were still sorting through the mess
from her last project. Although, as Jamie put it, the upstairs bathroom was
gnarly – as long as you remembered that hot really meant cold. After that
fiasco, she’d finally agreed to use professionals for future household repairs.
However,
she still met all my matrimonial hints with that same tolerant smile - the one I
was beginning to find very irritating. After all, she was my only child, and I
just wanted what was best for her.
She
had dated a simply wonderful man three years ago, Dean McGuire, but nothing ever
came of it. It certainly wasn’t for lack of trying on Dean’s part. He was just
crazy about Amanda. And did she care? Not in the least. I mean, here he was, a
dependable man with a good steady job, and my daughter wasn’t the tiniest bit
interested. I blamed it all on that crazy film company,
IFF.
Of
course, once I’d finally met her boss, Lee Stetson, the picture became a lot
clearer. She could deny it until
the cows came home, but there was more between the two of them than cameras and
projectors. Amanda wasn’t fooling
me one tiny bit - after all, I’d known her since the day she was born. I’d seen
her in love before.
“I’m
off the phone,“ Phillip told me, adjusting the sunglasses that hung around his
neck as he flashed me his best boyish grin.
“Well,
it’s about time.” I struggled not to smile. Phillip had a way about him, and I
was determined not to let him wheedle out of this one. “You’re not the only one
in the house with a love life, you know.”
“I
know, Grandma,” he laughed, and I couldn’t stay annoyed any longer. He really
was growing up so quickly. He’d shot up like a weed in the few short weeks since
Christmas. And his unexpected sensitivity when I’d had to break things off with
my gentleman friend Harry Berrigan had really been quite touching.
“Have
you two finished your homework? Tomorrow’s a school day,” I added with
appropriate grandmotherly concern.
“You
never used to make us do our homework, Grandma,” Jamie muttered.
"Times
change, and I have to change with them," I teased. Amanda had made me promise to
keep their noses to the grindstone this week. In fact, she’d left me an entire
list of chores - as if I wasn't perfectly capable of running this household
alone when I had to. Of course, it
didn't take a genius to know what she was really up to. That list was nothing
more than a smokescreen to keep me from asking too many questions about her
little trip.
Jamie
tossed his orange peel into the trash with an exaggerated motion, grumbling
under his breath about rules and homework, and I pushed my thoughts of Amanda
aside. His uncharacteristic
behavior took me by surprise. He
was our ‘A’ student who always completed his assignments on time.
“Come
on," I cajoled, ignoring his mood and opting for a light approach. "I'm sure it
won't take you that long to finish up." I reached out and tousled his hair
affectionately. “You know your mother will expect a full report when she gets
back.”
His
face clouded over momentarily as he pulled away, and my suspicions were
confirmed. My youngest grandson was losing his battle with the green-eyed
monster. He’d seemed a little subdued lately, but I had hoped it was my
imagination. He did have a lot on
his plate at the moment, I thought with a sigh. His father had just announced
his engagement, and his brother seemed to be pulling away, the two-year gap in
their ages widening every day. I could certainly empathize; I’d been the baby of
my family, too, always tagging along behind my sister Lillian. I'd tried to
reassure him that Phillip was just going through a phase and his involvement
with this latest girl was just a passing interest, but it didn’t seem to help. I
suspected the heart of the problem lay in his mother’s not so passing interest
in Lee Stetson.
The
phone rang and Phillip sprang to answer it.
“No,
you don’t,” I interjected quickly, beating him to the receiver. “This time it’s
for me. And I expect some privacy.”
“I
never get any privacy,” Phillip complained.
“When
you get to be fif. . . my age,” I quickly amended, “you can have all the privacy
you want. Now scoot, both of you. It’s late – go on, do your
homework.”
I
watched them run up the stairs, thankful that Curt was at least determined. A
less persistent man would have hung up by now.
“Hello,”
I answered absently, my thoughts still on Jamie as I picked up the
phone.
“Hello,
Mrs. West?”
It
wasn’t Curt on the other end of the line, but I immediately recognized that
distinctive voice. “Lee, is that you?” He was the last person I’d expected to
hear from. Despite Amanda’s
numerous protestations to the contrary, I’d been convinced that they were
together.
“Yes,
it’s Lee.”
“Lee,
dear. . . how are you doing?” I purposely kept my tone non-committal, fishing
for information. I really was hoping that my daughter had finally decided to do
something about this one. Even on a bad day, he was a definite
‘11’.
“Well,
I’m afraid. . . I’m not doing. . . so well right now.”
Call
it mother’s intuition, but something in his tone told me that I didn’t want to
hear what was coming. I knew Lee still felt a little awkward around me, but his
halting sentence was a bit extreme, even for him. “What’s the matter?” I asked,
holding my breath.
“It’s
Amanda.” He paused, and I backed away from the counter, falling into the hard
comfort of the kitchen chair. “There’s been an accident.”
“An
accident? What kind of accident? What happened? Is she all right?” A million
questions popped into my head, and I couldn’t seem to keep them out of my mouth.
“Please,
Mrs. West. . .”
The
strain in his voice was clearly evident. I took a deep breath. “Lee, tell me
what happened.”
“There
was a shooting. . .”
“Oh
my God. . . she’s not. . .” I couldn’t say the word.
“No,
no, she alive, but. . . she just got out of surgery. The doctor said she was
really very lucky. A fraction of an inch higher or lower. .
.”
“Oh
my God,” I repeated. “How is she?”
“Well,
she survived the surgery. They didn’t think. . .”
His
voice broke, rendering us both silent. “It’s touch and go,” he finally continued
painfully. “The next forty-eight
hours are critical. If she can hang on. . .”
“I’ll
be there as soon as I can,” I said immediately. He didn’t argue, in itself a
testimony to the precariousness of my daughter’s hold on life. “I just have to
make arrangements for the boys. . . the boys. . . oh, Lee, what should I tell
them?”
“You’d
better tell them the truth.” He paused briefly before adding tersely, “I think
they need to know.”
“Okay,”
I whispered, rubbing my hand back and forth across my chest while I considered
the options. “It’s probably too
late to get a flight tonight, but I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“Do
you know where. . .”
“Amanda
left me your itinerary,” I responded, noting that he didn’t even try to cover. I
guess that was one question answered, but it hardly mattered now.
“Okay.
Let me give you the hospital’s phone number and the number where I’m staying, in
case you need it.”
I
numbly copied down the information. “Take good care of my baby,” I told him,
trying to keep my voice from shaking.
I
could hear his harsh breathing, and I had a strange feeling that I’d unwittingly
said the wrong thing. There was an
awkward pause, and we were both thrust into limbo - miles apart yet still oddly
connected through the invisible wires of the phone. “Lee. .
.”
“I
will.” He spoke quickly, a funny quality in his voice that I couldn’t quite
place - almost as if he somehow considered the accident his
fault.
“I’ll
be there as soon as I can,” I repeated, not knowing what else to say. “Hang on.
. . both of you.” I had the feeling that Amanda’s Mr. Stetson needed mothering
as much she did.
I
numbly replaced the phone in its cradle and slumped over the kitchen table, my
head in my hands. I felt as helpless as I had when I’d gotten that other phone
call, the one informing me of Carl’s fatal heart attack. Amanda had been my rock
then, but now. . .
I
heard the playful scuffling of the boys upstairs, and I tried to think of what
she’d want me to do. Someone had to tell them. I couldn’t handle this alone.
I
picked up the phone and dialed Joe.
*
* *
The
plane hit another bumpy patch and the ‘fasten seat belt’ sign switched on. Clear
air turbulence again, I thought automatically, remembering my first flight
lesson with Captain Curt. I shifted
in my seat, trying in vain to get a little sleep.
I
felt as if I’d been traveling for days instead of hours. First, there had been
the mix up with my ticket, then the flight had been delayed due to mechanical
difficulties. And when we finally
did get underway, I’d been forced to listen to a blow-by-blow description of my
seat partner’s fiancé’s hemorrhoid surgery. Normally, I enjoyed getting to know
people when I traveled, but today I couldn’t summon the energy or the
inclination. I finally pleaded a headache, and she left me in peace. I felt a
little guilty for the lie, but I was too worried about Amanda to deal with
anything else.
I’d
spoken briefly with Lee before I left, and he hadn’t been very encouraging.
I
could tell he hadn’t slept a wink.
I could hear it in his voice, that bone-weary fatigue which in itself was
a pretty clear indicator of Amanda’s condition. Actually, I hadn’t fared much better
myself in that department. Every time I closed my eyes, I pictured my daughter,
alone in California without any of her family, fighting for her life.
I
sent her another silent prayer to hang on.
The
boys weren’t coping any better. The
fear on their faces as their and I told them the news had almost broken my
heart. They liked to think of
themselves as so grown up, but they were really just little boys. Phillip
naturally felt it was his duty as the eldest to be strong, but I could see that
underneath his brave front, he was just as shaken as his younger brother. And I
didn’t have the words to reassure either one of them - or to answer their
unspoken question.
At
least their father was there for them.
Joe really had been wonderful, immediately volunteering to come and stay
for the duration. “I think they need to be in familiar surroundings,” he told me
gravely, his own concern showing plainly on his face. The boys frequently spent weekends at
his small apartment, but the house on Maplewood Drive was home.
“Thank
you, Joe,” I responded, gratefully accepting his supportive hug. “I’m sure
Amanda would want you to be here.” She had heartily approved when he had stepped
in last fall. She had been in trouble with the government over some ridiculous
security mix up and was hiding out from some equally ridiculous federal agents.
Amanda on the ‘most wanted’ list – how absurd! It was just one more example of
the way the government wasted our tax dollars.
Of
course, Lee Stetson had been in the middle of that mess, too. He appeared to
have the strangest effect on my otherwise sane daughter. I was beginning to
think their relationship was a puzzle I might never decipher.
Now
Amanda and Joe – that I could understand.
She had never made a secret of her feelings for Joe King. The way she
talked and talked about him after their first date – well, suffice to say I was
convinced she considered him ‘the one’.
Getting her to say even the tiniest thing about Mr. Stetson was like
pulling teeth.
Despite
their divorce, Amanda and Joe were very close. I knew he still considered Amanda
and the boys his family. When he’d decided to move back to Washington, I’d hoped
there might be a future for the two of them after all.
“I’m
always gonna love Joe, but we’re just good friends,” Amanda told me when I’d
finally cornered her about it. I could hear that wistful note in her voice, and
I did wonder if she'd considered getting back with him. After all, he was the
father of her children. But she assured me again that it wasn’t true, that she
didn’t care for Joe in that way. I had a strong suspicion that there was someone
else she did care about, but once again she slipped out of the room before I had
the chance to ask.
Turning
her back on the past hadn’t been easy for her. I’d seen how hard she’d tried to
make her marriage work - even when it had been less than ideal.
After
graduating from law school, Joe had accepted a crazy job with the EAO and was
moving constantly. Amanda felt the
boys were too little to be continuously uprooted, so the three of them remained
in Arlington while Joe traveled all over, mostly to third world countries. He’d
spend a few months here, a few months there, dropping in to visit between
assignments. When he was home, they always seemed like a picture perfect family.
But when he left, I could see the melancholy settle over their household again.
Amanda tried to stay busy with the boys, but I knew it wasn’t enough. A woman
needs a husband, too.
I
didn’t really understand that job of his, and I told her so, but she defended
him. “Joe just has a lot inside he wants to give,” she said, hiding her tears
after he’d departed yet again, this time for Africa.
“If
that’s the case, Amanda, then he should think about giving a little of himself
to his family, instead of gallivanting all over the world, ” I answered
sarcastically. “He has responsibilities here, too.”
“He
does the best he can, Mother.”
“If
you say so, darling.” If Amanda was anything, she was loyal. Just like her
father. And she always seemed inclined to defend Joe after one of his lightening
trips home. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince me, or herself.
After
a few more years of their commuter marriage, even Amanda finally had to
acknowledge that it just wasn’t going to work. It almost broke my heart to see her in
so much pain. I couldn’t help but
remember the radiant look on her face as she’d walked down the aisle on her
father’s arm. Carl had been beaming, too. He’d really thought so highly of Joe,
we both did. It was such a
beautiful, lavish wedding; it was just a shame the marriage ended so
dismally.
She
hated to admit that marrying young might have been a mistake. Amanda could be
very stubborn sometimes. My sister Lillian was exactly the same way. It was a
trait, I'm afraid, that most of the women in our family shared.
I
hoped it would stand her in good stead now.
*
* *
It
was late by the time I arrived at the hospital. After inquiring at the desk, I was
directed to intensive care. The hallways were quiet, almost eerily so, the few
visitors still in the waiting areas speaking in hushed tones. Why did a hospital always make people
want to whisper? As if speaking too loudly might interfere with the life and
death dramas being waged behind closed doors.
The
atmosphere certainly seemed dramatic. I felt as if I had stepped right into one
of my afternoon soap operas. Everything seemed so surreal. Any minute now, I
thought, this nightmare would be over. I’d hear Amanda’s voice telling me I’d
fallen asleep in front of the TV again, and the two of us would share a good
laugh.
I
stopped in front of room 346C. A
small sign on the door indicated oxygen in use, and I felt my heart begin to
pound furiously. I reached for the
door, but it opened from the inside as a nurse emerged from my daughter’s room.
She smiled sympathetically as she swept by me, but she never quite made eye
contact. Amanda’s condition must be
even worse than I imagined.
I
quickly stepped into the room. She lay flat on the bed, an oxygen tent covering
her face and chest. This must be a very small hospital, I told myself uneasily.
I hadn’t seen one of those contraptions in years. She looked unnaturally still
under all that plastic. Deathly
still.
Lee
didn’t look much better. The man sat like a statue beside her bed, just staring
at Amanda’s pale face. He didn’t
even hear me come into the room. He looked oddly lost, almost like a little boy,
so unlike the Lee Stetson I’d come to know. It suddenly struck me that he didn’t
believe she was going to make it.
“Oh
my God. . .” My hands flew to my mouth as I involuntarily spoke the
words.
He
turned, his back unconsciously straightening as his eyes rested on mine. He
hurried over to meet me, hesitating for a fraction of a section before placing a
calming hand on my back.
“She’s
stable,” he reassured me, “but still in critical condition. All we can do is
wait.”
I
clasped my hands together in another silent prayer. “She’s going to be fine,
she’s going to be. . . absolutely. . . fine.” I kept saying the words, as if
repetition might actually make them true. His arm tightened around me, and I
could feel how badly he wanted to believe that, too.
“Lee,”
I said, doing my best to comfort him. “I’ve never seen her give up on anything
that’s important. And she’s not going to give up now.” I moved closer to the
bed, looking down into my daughter’s face, the steady beep—beep of the monitors
echoing in the background. An annoying sound, yet at the same time, strangely
comforting.
“My
God,” I exclaimed again. “What happened? Who did this? Why? It doesn’t make any
sense.”
“Come
on,” he murmured soothingly, his arm on my back again. “I’ll tell you everything
I know, all right? Come on,” he urged once more, guiding me from the room.
I
paused to look back at her once more, my beautiful daughter, my baby. So helpless. . . “Ohh,” I whispered,
stifling a sob as I headed into the hall. The lights were very bright, glaringly
so, and I blinked as I struggled to make the transition from the relative
darkness of Amanda’s room. I glanced back over my shoulder one last time. Lee
stood by the door, his eyes still on Amanda, as if he couldn’t quite tear
himself from her. Then very slowly
he backed away, staring at the floor as the door drifted
shut.
“Lee.
. . “ I called quietly.
He
took a deep breath and moved towards me, his arm snapping back into place on my
back. “Why don’t we go to the cafeteria,” he suggested. “I’m sure the food on
the plane wasn’t fit to eat.”
I
opened my mouth to tell him I wasn’t hungry when I realized that he needed to do
something – anything – to get his mind off the situation. I understood the
feeling. It was agonizing to be so helpless. Especially, I thought with sudden
insight, for this man standing beside me. The only concrete thing I could do for
Amanda right now was to help the people she cared about. If pretending to eat
would do that for Lee, then I was more than willing to try.
We
made our way to the cafeteria in silence. Visiting hours had ended long ago and
the hallways were practically deserted. We passed only the few other unfortunate
souls who were, just like us, keeping watch on their own critically ill loved
ones.
“What
would you like?” Lee asked solicitously as we entered the equally empty
cafeteria.
I
stood by the counter, looking at the food, unable to make a
decision.
“The
sandwiches don’t look too bad,” he prompted, but I noticed he didn’t make a move
to take one.
“Maybe
later,” I told him, unable to keep up the charade. I was just too tired, too worried,
too scared.
He
seemed to understand. “How about
some coffee then?” he suggested kindly.
“That
I can handle.” I picked up a tray, sliding it to the end of the counter. Lee
paid the cashier while I filled two cups, grabbing some cream for him and some
sugar for myself.
I
caught him looking at me strangely.
“Amanda told me,” I responded, answering his unspoken question. “That day
you two helped out with Harry.”
“Oh,
yeah,” he nodded sadly. “That day.” Exhaling loudly, he took the tray from me,
making his way carefully across the room. I followed closely behind him, our
footsteps clattering loudly in the silent cafeteria.
We
settled on a table in the corner.
He set the tray down with deliberate care, running a hand through his
hair before pulling out my chair. I sank into it, thankful to be off my feet. I
wasn’t sure how much longer my wobbly legs would have supported
me.
Lee
did the same. I watched as he fiddled with his coffee, adding a little cream and
absently stirring, then repeating the process all over again. He never bothered
to take even the smallest sip.
“Lee,”
I said, finally interrupting, “you were going to tell me what happened to
Amanda.”
He
nodded, dropping the spoon on his plate. It made a sharp clanging sound, the
noise reverberating through the room. He took a deep breath, then slowly
exhaled, leaning forward on the table.
“We
were, um, visiting an old friend of mine,” he began, resting his chin on his
hand. “Down by the pier. We were just getting out of the car when the shooting
started. My friend Barney yelled a warning, and I told Amanda to take cover.
Then it stopped as quickly as it started. I found her in the front seat. The
bullet had gone straight through the windshield – into her
chest.”
“No
one saw anything? Or heard anything?” I asked incredulously. On television, guns
always made a lot of noise.
“Whoever
it was, he used a high powered, telescopic rifle fitted with a silencer. That
wouldn’t give any warning sound. The next thing I knew, Amanda was
hit.”
“Hit?”
He sounded like a man who knew his subject well - like Ephram Zimbalist, Jr. on
my favorite old show, ‘The FBI’.
“Shot,”
he added quickly, smoothing his hair again. “Anyway, that’s what the sheriff
said.”
“Does
he have any idea who did this?”
“He’s
‘looking into it’,” Lee said contemptuously.
“Someone
needs to do something,” I sputtered, drumming my nails on the tabletop. “I mean,
what kind of police force is it? They can’t just let nuts like that run around,
shooting innocent people. . .”
I
felt his hand on mine, and I suddenly stopped. “Don’t worry, it’ll be taken care
of.” The look of steely determination in his eyes worried me a little, and I
closed my other hand over his.
“I’m
sorry,” I sighed, giving him a careful pat. “All that doesn’t really matter,
does it? Amanda is the one who matters.”
The
lights suddenly seemed too bright, and I closed my eyes. The images flashing in my mind were
infinitely worse, so I quickly opened them again. “Was she awake?” I asked
suddenly. “After it happened, I mean. Was she in any pain?” I needed him to tell
me that she hadn’t suffered.
“No,”
he answered, the lines on his forehead deepening as he frowned. “She never
regained consciousness. In the ambulance, I almost thought she was. . . but she
made it to the hospital. The doctors took her. . . they wouldn’t let me stay
with her. She went right up to surgery.”
“Lee.
. .” I leaned across the small table and gently shook him, forcing him to look
at me. The expression on his face brought tears to my eyes, and I knew then just
how deeply this man loved my daughter. I felt a rush of warmth for him, like a
mother for a son. I automatically rubbed his shoulder, the same way I did to the
boys when they needed my special brand of comfort.
“Amanda
is a very determined woman,” I said, reminding myself of that fact along with
him. “She won’t leave the people
she loves.”
“That’s
what I keep telling myself, but. . .”
“No
‘buts’ about it,” I insisted. “My daughter always gives 110% to everything she
does. This won’t be any different. Why, I remember a few years ago, before she
got her job with IFF, she had this little pet and plant business. She took care
of people’s pets – dogs, cats, even a chimpanzee once - and watered their
plants. You know, when they were away,” I explained, catching the quizzical look
on his face. “She got so caught up in it – I actually found her crying one day
over a plant that had died.”
I
saw that I had finally made him smile.
“Amanda’s just like that,” I continued. “She cares about
everything.”
“Yeah,
she does.” His eyes had a faraway look, and he seemed lost in some private
memory. He shook his head slightly and turned to me. “I’m sorry I didn’t call
you sooner,” he told me apologetically, his hand absently patting mine. “But I
didn’t know what to say. It seemed like she was in that operating room for days.
I wanted to have some good news to tell you, but Dr. Neely wasn’t very. . .
hopeful.” Abruptly, his words stopped and I could see him drifting away again.
“Dr.
Neely?” I prodded, bringing him back to the present.
“Her
surgeon.”
“What
exactly did he say?” Maybe there was some tidbit of information Lee had
overlooked.
“Too
damn little. He just keeps talking in circles, repeating that we have to wait.
He won’t say so, but I know gunshot wounds like hers are usually. . . I don’t
think he expected her to. . . “ He took another deep breath. “I think he’s
surprised that she’s still alive.”
“Then
he doesn’t know our Amanda very well, does he?”
His
looked up then, rewarding me with a truly genuine smile this time, one that lit
up the whole room. “No, I guess he doesn’t.”
He
glanced down at his watch. “Why don’t we head back? It’s been almost forty-five
minutes, maybe they’ll let us back in to see her. They only allow one visitor,”
he explained sadly, “for fifteen minutes, on the hour.”
“Then
you go on,” I told him, smiling warmly at the look of gratitude on his face. As
badly as he needed to be with Amanda, he would have let me go to her instead.
“Will
you be okay?”
“I’ll
be fine.” I gave his hand another squeeze. “Go on – I’m just going to sit here
and finish my coffee, then I’ll join you.”
“I’ll
meet you in the waiting area down the hall from her room,” he told me, his chair
making a scraping sound as he rose. He turned to go, then stopped for a minute
to look back at me. “Thanks, Dotty.”
As
I watched him head for the door, I realized it was the first time he hadn’t
called me ‘Mrs. West’.
*
* *
We
spent most of the night in that small alcove that served as the waiting room,
waiting for the minutes to tick by so we could see Amanda again. We took turns
visiting. Her condition remained
unchanged, but I supposed it was the best news we could hope for right now.
I
was worried about my grandsons. I had talked briefly with Joe after my arrival
to give him an update on Amanda’s condition. It was late here and even later in
Virginia, but Joe had made me promise to call. The boys were holding up, he told me,
but were very quiet. Especially
Jamie. The PTA mothers at their school were organizing some dinners for them.
Carrie, his fiancée, had been over as well. He told me not to worry about the
home front, to just concentrate on Amanda. But I could hear the anxiety in his
voice.
Toward
morning, I caught Lee looking at his watch. He cleared his throat a few times,
as if he wanted to say something, but then thought better of it. It was obvious
that he couldn’t sit still much longer. I had the feeling that waiting was not
Lee Stetson’s strong suit.
I
sent him off to get some sleep, and this time he agreed without any
argument. I knew then how badly he
needed to escape the atmosphere here. I hoped he would finally be able to
rest.
I
dozed now and then, but I couldn’t make myself leave the hospital. Dr. Neely
tried to convince me to go to the hotel, but I steadfastly refused. I couldn’t
leave my baby. I’d been with her
when she came into this world and if she was going to leave it. . . well, I’d be
with her then, too. I was her mother.
Somehow
the time passed. Lee checked in every few hours, but I had nothing to tell him.
Amanda was still holding her own, but Dr. Neely stubbornly refused to give me a
definite prognosis, no matter how many times I inquired. Lee tried to hide his
disappointment, but I understood how he felt. I longed to be able to tell him
that Amanda was awake, looking more beautiful than ever, but we’d both just have
to wait a little longer for that to happen.
The
last time we spoke, he told me he was on his way. I was just thinking that maybe I’d go
grab a little sleep once he arrived, when it happened. The floor suddenly sprang
to life - a flurry of carts, medical personnel everywhere, and all the while,
that awful monotone hum sounding in the background.
The
loudspeakers shouted the news, “Code blue, room 346C,” and all I could think
about was Amanda at five years old, bravely letting go of my hand as I left her
at school for the first time and marching boldly through the door
alone.
I
met Lee in the corridor as the emergency equipment rushed by us. “Lee,” I gasped, “it’s Amanda.” We both
hovered helplessly outside her door.
“Where’s
that bicarb?” I heard Dr. Neely ask tersely.
“Right
here, Doctor,” came the nurse’s calm reply.
He
muttered something in response, but my mind couldn’t grasp the words.
“You’d
better stay here,” Lee warned me, taking hold of my arms as I tried to enter the
room.
“No,”
I told him firmly, laying a restraining hand on his chest. “No.” I couldn’t just
stand out in the hall while Amanda slipped away from us. I needed to be by my
daughter’s side, to will her back to life if necessary.
He
seemed to understand. We both cautiously entered the room, my clenched fist
automatically flying to my mouth as I watched the scene play out.
As
soon as Dr. Neely saw us, he immediately blocked our way. “Mr. Stetson,” he said
firmly, including both of us in his gaze. “You can’t help us save her life, but
if you get in the way, you will help us lose it. Now get out of here,” he
finished a little more harshly. “Now!”
It
felt as if my own heart had stopped beating as the full meaning of his words hit
me. Amanda could die. . . was dying. And there was nothing either one of us
could do to stop it.
*
* *
“What’s
taking them so long?” I asked, my hand drumming on the arm of the chair. “Why
won’t they tell us something – anything? I just don’t understand doctors.” It
had been forty-five interminably long minutes since we’d been relegated to the
waiting room.
“I
don’t know,” Lee answered grimly, leaning back against the small sofa. “But I’m
sure if she was. . . if it was bad news, we would have heard by now.” He closed
his eyes, his hands clasped together, absently rubbing the fingers of his left
hand with his thumb.
“You’re
right,” I agreed, reaching for my half finished cup of coffee. It was cold, but
I drank it anyway. “I guess we just have to look for the silver
lining.”
He
looked at me and smiled. “Yeah, I guess we do. She’s gonna be all right, Dotty.
She has to be.”
We
both fell silent again, lost in our own thoughts of Amanda. I somehow felt
better knowing Lee was beside me, that we both shared a common bond. I was
beginning to understand what it was about him that my daughter found so
attractive. It was more than just his looks, which were definitely above
average. But there was something else, an indefinable quality that I couldn’t
put my finger on. A quiet strength mixed with an endearing vulnerability that he
kept carefully hidden from the world. I suspected he was a very complex
man.
We
were both sipping that awful hospital brew again when Dr. Neely finally entered
the room. We jumped to our feet,
and Lee immediately put a strong arm around me. I prepared myself for the
worst.
“We
almost lost her,” he announced solemnly, “but she didn’t give up for a
second.”
“Ohh,”
I sighed, leaning against Lee for support. He tightened his hold, and I could
feel the tension in every muscle of his body. Despite our positive words to the
contrary, I think we’d both believed she was dead.
“She’s
holding on,” the doctor continued, ”so we’re back where we started. With still a
long ways to go.” His words were full of caution, and I knew we weren’t out of
the woods yet. But the underbrush had just gotten a lot thinner. I gave him a
grateful smile.
“The
woman’s a fighter,” he replied in wonderment. I nodded my agreement as he added
with a cautious smile, “That’s good.”
“Thank
you,” Lee murmured as the doctor left us alone. I turned to look at him. His
eyes were still a little clouded, but I could sense that his relief equaled
mine. “Oh, boy,” was all I could say, shaking my head as I thought about how
close we’d come to losing her.
“I
know what you mean,” he said, letting out a deep sigh. We both collapsed back
down on the sofa.
“Lee,”
I said, taking a careful look at him. The dark circles under his eyes told me
he’d passed exhaustion long ago.
“When’s the last time you had some decent sleep? In a bed, I mean. And
don’t lie to me now,” I added, as I could see he was on the verge of telling me
he was fine.
“I
don’t know, a few days ago, I guess,” he admitted, a wistful look on his
face.
“You
have to get some rest. You won’t do Amanda any good if you end up in the
hospital, too.”
“I
will get some rest,” he said intractably. “As soon as she wakes up and tells me
she’s gonna be okay.”
“You’re
just as stubborn as my daughter,” I grinned, marveling that the two of them had
ever gotten together in the first place.
“No,
Dotty, that’s not possible,” he replied, the sparkle suddenly back in his eye.
“No one is as stubborn as your daughter.”
“That’s
true,” I agreed with a laugh. “Amanda always had a mind of her own - even when
she was a little girl. I remember when she was only four years old, she refused
to eat anything but rice for a solid month. She nearly drove me crazy.”
Lee
smiled, and I eyed him closely. “So, what were you like at four years old?” I
asked, returning his smile.
“My
parents were killed in a car accident when I was four,” he said in a quiet
voice.
“Oh,
Lee, I’m so sorry,” I said quickly, trying to remove my foot from my mouth. “I
didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s
okay,” he said, squeezing my arm. “I don’t mind telling
you.”
I
had the feeling that he didn’t normally confide such things, but I guessed the
experience we’d just been through had brought us closer. “Who raised you then?”
I inquired. I realized how little I
really knew about this man who’d become such a big part of Amanda’s life.
“My
uncle. He’s in the Air Force, so I
kinda grew up all over the place.
Greenland, Guam, Germany. . . you name it, I lived
there.”
“That
must have been hard on you, always moving like that.”
“I
survived,” he replied in a low voice, and I wondered what he wasn’t saying.
Children shouldn’t be dragged all over the world; they needed a home and
stability. Amanda had been right about that. I realized with a start that Lee needed
some good old-fashioned mothering even more desperately than I’d previously
suspected. I had the impression that this man sitting beside me was very good at
hiding his pain.
He
reached for his coffee, absently taking a sip. “Ugh, that’s cold. I think I’ll
get another cup.”
I
turned to say something, but he’d already disappeared around the corner. He was
even better at evasion than my daughter. I could see I had my work cut out for
me.
He
reappeared a few minutes later with coffee for both of us, and I smiled my
thanks as he placed the cups on the small table. I wanted to continue our
conversation, but I had the distinct feeling that Mr. Stetson had bared his soul
more than enough for one day.
“I
saw Dr. Neely,” he said quickly, deftly changing the subject. “They have to run
a few more tests, but he said we could see Amanda as soon as they
finished.”
“Good.
I want to check for myself that she’s okay. I mean, I believe them, they
wouldn’t lie about a thing like that, but I really need to see her with my own
eyes. Just to make sure.”
“I
know.” He ran his hand through his hair, something he seemed to do quite often
when he had something on his mind. “After that,” he said in a tired voice,
“maybe we should both take Dr. Neely’s advice and get out of here for a while.
There’s nothing else we can do tonight.”
I
knew he was right, but I still hated to leave. If Amanda had another crisis. . .
no, I wouldn’t think that way. She would be okay. I looked over at Lee. Yes, she
would be more than okay. My daughter had too much to live for to give up
now.
*
* *
It
was sometime after three a.m. when Lee finally dropped me at my hotel. I
stretched out on the bed, intending to lie down for only for a few minutes
before getting into a nice hot bath.
My mind still felt too anxious to rest, but my body evidently had other
ideas. I was asleep almost before my head hit the pillow.
It
was not quite ten o’clock when I finally awoke. I read the clock with a mixture
of shock and guilt. I never slept that late. Upset at leaving Amanda alone for
so long, I showered quickly and hurried back to the
hospital.
The
nurses informed me with a smile that the remainder of the night had been
uneventful. And Amanda’s vital signs appeared a bit stronger this morning. A
very good sign, they all assured me.
I
was beginning to catch a faint glimmer of hope in their words - as if she’d
passed some impossibly difficult final exam and now was just waiting to collect
her ‘A’. Her color did look a little better, I thought happily. I settled into my customary perch beside
her bed.
I
talked to her in a quiet voice, filling her in on all the news from home. That
Joe was taking good care of the boys, so she didn’t have to worry. About
Phillip’s hot date last Saturday with the exceptional Nancy, all of Jamie’s
plans for this year’s science fair. Joe said that Mr. Pietry had even fixed that
awful doorbell, I informed her with a laugh – with only minimal damage to our
liquor cabinet.
I
told her that it was time to wake up.
We’d been very patient, Lee and I – but it was way past time. “And I
think that man is going to go out of his mind if you don’t sit up and talk to
him soon,” I added in a low voice. “He puts on a pretty good show, but he’s not
fooling me. He needs you, Amanda.
So you hurry up and come back to us. To him.”
I
was standing up, stretching the kinks out of my back when I heard it - a low,
guttural sound, more a moan than a word.
“Lee.
. .”
“Amanda?”
I turned to her, my eyes filling with tears. “Darling, it’s Mother. I’m right
here.”
“Ummm,”
she groaned again. Her eyes blinked as she tried to focus. “Mother? What. . .
where. . .”
“There
was an accident, Darling,” I told her soothingly. She was a little disoriented;
it was hard to tell if she was fully conscious or just floating on the edge.
“You’re in the hospital.”
“Where’s
Lee?” she asked, her eyes drifting shut once more. “I want
him.”
“He’ll
be here soon. Don’t try to talk. I’m going to get the doctor.” I turned toward
the door, but Dr. Neely was already in the room, the monitors evidently alerting
him to Amanda’s changing condition.
“Well,
Mrs. King,” he said with a relieved smile, “I see you’ve decided to join
us.”
“Umm,”
she murmured again, even that small sound a huge effort.
Dr.
Neely asked me leave while he examined her, and I readily complied. I staggered
into the hall, leaning against the wall, weak from relief while I waited for the
verdict. I knew without a shadow of
a doubt that this time, the news would be good.
After
what seemed like an eternity, he reappeared in the hall.
“Oh,
Doctor.” I smiled through the tears that were streaming down my face. “She is
going to be all right.” It was more a statement than a question.
“It’s
going to take some time and rest,” he smiled in response, “but I think I can
promise that Mrs. King is going to be okay.” The man’s face told it all - we had
our miracle. Amanda was back.
“How
can I ever thank you?” I gasped, gripping his hand as I pumped his arm up and
down enthusiastically.
“Believe
me, in this case, being able to deliver good news is thanks enough.” He cleared
his throat, retrieving his captive hand.
“She’s asking for Mr. Stetson again, so I’ve sent the nurse to track him
down. We’ve taken her off the oxygen and if all goes well, we’ll probably be
moving her to a regular room sometime tonight or at the latest tomorrow. You’re
welcome to go back in,” he added, heading off my question. “She’ll probably
sleep most of the day, but I think it will do her good to see a familiar face
when she wakes up.”
He
smiled one last time before heading off down the hall. I took a few deeply
relieved breaths, something I’d been almost afraid to do in the past few days.
“Ohh,” I sighed to myself, happy tears flowing again.
I
cautiously entered her room, tip toeing to the bed so I wouldn’t disturb her.
She appeared to be sleeping again, thoroughly exhausted from the effort of
waking. The room still echoed the steady ‘beep-beep’ of that infernal monitor,
but I was glad to see they’d removed that awful oxygen tent. I reached out and brushed my hand softly
across her forehead.
“Lee,”
she murmured again, then drifted back to sleep. I watched her lying there,
watched the peaceful rise and fall of her chest. From the look on her face, her
dreams were all pleasant. And I had
a pretty good idea who was starring in them.
The
simple truth was plain to anyone with eyes. She couldn’t hide it any longer. My
daughter loved Lee Stetson every bit as much as he loved
her.
*
* *
There
was a commotion in the hall and I heard voices outside Amanda’s
door.
I’d
just been speculating on whether Amanda would want another big wedding when Dr.
Neely’s words broke through my pleasant daydream. “I wanted you here, you made
good time.”
“Get
out of my way, I’m goin’ in there,” Lee stated in no uncertain terms. I walked
to the door, anxious to tell him the good news myself.
Dr.
Neely beat me to it. “Of course you are,” he responded, a hint of tolerant good
humor in his voice. “A little TLC is. . .”
“Doc.
. .” Lee interrupted, his patience spent.
“.
. .Just what the doctor ordered for a quick recovery,” the surgeon finished
emphatically.
I
burst through the door and, unable to stop myself, I threw my arms around Dr.
Neely’s neck. “Ohh, she’s going to be all right,” I said for the umpteenth time
that morning. “I told you so.” The words literally poured out of me, I couldn’t
seem to stop them.
“Oh,
Lee,” I cried, turning to him. “You oughtta see her, she looks
beautiful!”
“Yeah,”
he answered somewhat breathlessly, his focus on Amanda, waiting for him just
beyond the door.
I
smiled knowingly and let him pass, concentrating my enthusiasm again on her
savior Dr. Neely. “Oh,” I exclaimed, catching my breath, “I’m going to tell you
something. After a few weeks in bed, I’m going to have her hopping around like
nothing ever happened. Oh, Dr. Neely, she’s going to be as good as new!”
I
took his arm and we started down the hall while I continued to enumerate my
plans for Amanda’s convalescence. He smiled benignly, as if my behavior was the
most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was. In his profession, unbridled
gratitude was probably a daily occurrence.
We
parted company at the pay phone. I realized with a pang of remorse that Joe and
the boys hadn’t heard the good news. I checked my watch. Three hours later in
Virginia. My grandsons should be just getting home from school by
now.
Jamie
answered on the third ring. “Hello,
sweetheart, it’s Grandma.”
“Hi,
Grandma.” His voice sounded flat, unemotional. He must have been out of his mind
with worry over his mother. I was more than glad to be the bearer of such happy
tidings.
“I
have really good news for you, darling,” I told him enthusiastically. “Your
mom’s going to be just fine.”
“That’s
good,” he replied in the same monotone.
It
certainly wasn’t the response I’d anticipated. Jamie acted as if I’d just given him the
weather report.
“Is
that Grandma on the phone?” I heard Phillip ask. “How’s Mom? What did she say?”
Now Phillip sounded exactly the way I expected him to.
“She
said Mom’s going to be okay,” I heard Jamie hiss to his brother. “Leave me
alone.”
“Woo
hoo,” came Phillip’s enthusiastic response. “Hey, Dad,” he yelled, “Mom’s gonna
be okay. Give me the phone, Worm Brain, I want to talk to
Grandma.”
“Cut
it out,” came the muffled response. There was a loud bang in my ear and the
sounds of a scuffle, then Joe’s strong voice came through loud and clear.
“Dotty?”
he asked, the relief evident in his voice. “Amanda’s out of danger?”
“Yes,
she’s. . .” The altercation began again and he momentarily excused himself. I
could hear yelling in the background, Joe’s stern tones, then suddenly
everything was silent.
“I’m
sorry, Dotty,” he sighed when he finally came back on the line. “You were
saying?”
“Joe,”
I asked, “what on earth is going on there? And why are you home at
three-thirty?” Joe King never left the office in the middle of the day without
good reason. Something was definitely amiss. “Is Jamie all
right?”
“He’s
okay, but he’s had a pretty rough few days, so I thought I’d try to be here when
he got home today. There was some incident at school. . .”
“Incident?
What kind of incident? What happened?”
“Some
silly fight with one of his friends that got a little out of hand. We’re dealing
with it. Carrie is going to talk to him.”
I
wasn’t sure exactly what Joe thought his fiancée of one month could accomplish,
but I held my peace. I was too
relieved about Amanda’s prognosis to debate this now.
“Really,
Dotty,” he continued reassuringly, “don’t worry about this. You have enough to
handle. Tell me how Amanda’s doing.”
“Oh, Joe, she’s
doing wonderfully,” I began, warming to my subject. “The doctor said she’s out
of danger. He expects a full recovery.”
”Well, that is good news. I know
the boys will be very relieved. They’ve both been worried – actually, we’ve all
been worried. Amanda is very special.”
“Yes,
she is,” I agreed. “But Joe – I’m a little concerned about
Jamie.”
“He’ll
be fine. Just some growing pains, I think.” I heard his tired sigh. “He and
Phillip have been at each other’s throats. I think they’ve just been so worried
about their mother – I’m sure things will ease up once they can talk to her. Is
she awake or. . .”
“She’s
still in intensive care, but she should be moved tonight or tomorrow. I’m sure
she’ll want to talk to the boys as soon as she’s able. Lee’s with her now. . .”
I bit my tongue. I hadn’t meant to bring that up - it had just slipped out. I
took a deep breath, unsure of my ground here.
“Dotty,”
he asked, his voice suddenly brusque. “You never did tell me how this
happened.”
Something
in his tone sent up warning flags. Joe’s anger seemed a tad inappropriate.
Surely he couldn’t be implying that Amanda would be in any danger from
Lee?
“It
was an accident, Joe,” I answered, slowly and plainly so he couldn’t mistake my
words. “It was simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong
time.”
“She
wasn’t working, was she?”
“Working?
No, I told you, she took this trip for some rest and relaxation.” Joe’s
questions were starting to annoy me.
“Well,
Lee Stetson was there,” he said truculently, as if that in itself was
explanation enough.
This
conversation was becoming stickier and stickier. I took a deep breath, trying
decide exactly what to say to my ex son-in law. I’d always been a firm believer
in honesty being the best policy, but it wasn’t my place to tell him about
Amanda and Lee. It really wasn’t any of his business. Joe King may have been the
father of my grandchildren, but that didn’t necessarily give him license to butt
into my daughter’s personal life.
I
was on the verge of telling him exactly that when he abruptly changed course,
his tone conciliatory again. “Tell Amanda the boys send their love and that our
prayers are with her. We’ll all be waiting for her call.”
He
ended the conversation before I could reply. How did things ever get so
complicated?
*
* *
I
walked down the hallway to Amanda’s room, smiling a greeting as I passed the
nurses’ station. After almost three weeks here, Community Hospital’s west wing
staff had become our second family. I think they understood that Amanda’s
recovery was nothing short of miraculous and in some small way wanted to share
in our joy. Everyone loves a happy ending.
As
wonderful as they’d made our stay, I knew Amanda was as anxious as I was to bid
this place farewell. Comfortable or not, this was a hospital, not home. I
wouldn’t be able to really relax until she was back where she belonged, safe and
sound under our own roof on Maplewood Drive.
She
still had a ways to go before that would happen, though. Her speedy recovery had
absolutely astounded Dr. Neely and the staff, so much so that he had promised to
release her from the hospital in the next few days. But he still adamantly
refused to allow her to travel for at least another week.
I
myself would be en route to Virginia in just a few more hours, while tonight Lee
would be flying in the opposite direction, heading back to California and
Amanda. Much to his frustration,
he’d been recalled to work ten days ago to deal with some sort of distribution
emergency concerning their latest project. He’d tried to find someone else to
cover it, but evidently Doc somebody or other, the head honcho at IFF, had been
quite insistent. He’d had no choice but to return.
I
stopped in front of Amanda’s room, shifting my small suitcase and the cumbersome
plant I was carrying to my other hand.
I was about to push open her door, when the sound of her voice stopped
me. “Yeah, I know, I feel the same way.” I hesitated, not wanting to intrude as
I heard her continue. “It’s just been hard, that’s all. This isn’t the way it
was supposed to be.”
I
could tell by her tone that she was talking to Lee. Whenever she spoke to him, her voice
took on this tender little quality.
It was probably something only a mother would notice. I actually found it
quite touching.
I
started to back away, intending to give her some privacy, when her impassioned
response pricked my ears. “Lee, I wish you wouldn’t say that. What happened was
an accident. Nobody blames you.” She was silent for a moment, then added, “Well,
that’s his particular problem, then.
It’s my fault, I should have told him that day we had lunch, but he was
so caught up in his news about Carrie that I didn’t know how to
start.”
This
was about Joe, then, I thought, shaking my head as I let the door swing closed.
He still seemed to be having a difficult time with Amanda and Lee’s
relationship, something I found a little puzzling since the man was getting
married in July. I guess old bonds were the hardest to break. Perhaps I could
help smooth the waters when I got home.
As
much as I hated to leave her, I knew Amanda would be happy to have Lee take my
place. Their goodbye hadn’t been
easy, I suspected - for either one of them. Actually, I’d hated to see him leave
myself. Lee Stetson had a knack for taking my daughter’s mind off the physical
pain of her recovery. He had us both in stitches one night, his lively tale
about his escapades in Europe taking more twists and turns than my current
adventure novel. Apparently the documentary film business was much more
intriguing than I’d imagined.
For
my own part, I enjoyed watching the two of them together. They didn’t seem to
need to communicate in words, instead understanding almost instinctively what
the other was feeling. Amanda tried to tell me it was because they’d worked
together for so long, but the connection between them had nothing to do with any
job. It was very special, and stronger than anything I’d ever seen between my
daughter and Joe. For almost ten
years, I’d watched her put her own needs second. Unlike that one-dimensional
relationship, she and Lee seemed to have a real partnership. In many ways, it
reminded me of what I’d known with her father.
My
arm began to tire, and I shifted my burden again. I decided I’d rather interrupt
Amanda than risk the wrath of the nurses who would have to clean up the debris
if this plant fell on the floor. I
knocked loudly to announce my arrival, clearing my throat as I entered.
“I’ll
see you tonight then,” I heard her finish as she smiled, motioning me into the
room. “Yeah. I do, too. Bye.”
“Everything
okay in D.C.?” I inquired, dropping my suitcase by the door and depositing the
planter on the window ledge.
“Yeah.
Lee will be here tonight,” she told me, settling back down into the
pillow.
“That’s
good,” I answered, checking the soil to see if the plant was dry. “I was afraid
he might get stuck at work again,” I finished, a bit distracted by the state of
neglect I discovered. I never understood why flower shops couldn’t simply water
a plant before they delivered it.
“Actually,
he has a short term assignment for IFF out here, so there’s no danger he’ll have
to leave again. He’ll be able to stay until I can fly home.” She smiled and
closed her eyes, evidently savoring some thoughts too secret to share. I left
her to them, filling the water jug in the bathroom and giving our latest
acquisition a drink.
“Who’s
that one from?” she asked, grimacing a little as she shifted position.
“It’s
from the Soccer Moms, ‘wishing you a speeding recovery’.” I glanced over at her as I read the
card. She appeared to be suffering a moderate amount of discomfort today. Dr.
Neely had assured us that it was to be expected and would fade with time.
“That
was nice of them,” she responded automatically, and I had a sneaking suspicion
that her mind was still focused on that phone call. “I can’t believe all the people who’ve
sent their support.”
“Well,
any more well wishers, and we’ll be able to open our own shop. Although,” I
added wryly, “the deliveries should slow down a bit once Lee arrives. I’m sure
the shopkeepers in D.C. will be sorry to see him go.”
“He
has been a little over enthusiastic,” she laughed, shaking her head she ruefully
surveyed the room. “I think he felt guilty that he had to go back to
work.”
“That
man is head over heels in love with you, Darling,” I teased, “and you have an
extensive assortment of exotic greenery to prove it.”
She
treated me to that wonderful laugh of hers again. Only a short time ago, I’d worried that
I might never hear it again. It’s amazing how quickly the balance of life can
shift.
“So,”
I asked, relaxing into the chair beside her bed. “Joe still being Joe? I
couldn’t help overhearing,” I said contritely as I noticed the beginnings of a
frown.
“Yes,”
she sighed, her lips pursed together in that way she had when she was troubled.
“Lee stopped by the house to pick up some things for me, and I guess he gave him
a hard time. Jamie, too.” She wrinkled her nose. “I can handle Joe, but I’m at a
loss as to what to do about Jamie. With his father’s new life and now this – his
world’s kind of been turned upside down.”
“Yes,
change has a way of doing that sometimes,” I agreed, giving her hand a
comforting pat. “He just needs a little patience and
understanding.”
“He’s
barely said two words to me on the phone.”
“He’s
been concerned about you, darling,” I reassured her. “And sometimes, worry wears
a funny face. Especially when you’re twelve years old.”
“I
guess so,” she answered sadly.
“Of
course, the good thing about being twelve is the innate ability to bounce back
quickly. He’ll snap out of it, wait and see, and then,” I grinned, “you’ll wish
you could get him to stop yakking.”
“Speaking
of bouncing back,” she said, clenching her teeth as she swung her feet over the
side of the bed, “Could you give me a hand? I need to do another lap before Dr.
Neely gets here if I want to convince him I’m ready to be sprung from this
place.”
I
nodded, handing her the pink robe. I watched as she set her jaw in a dogged
grin, willing her discomfort to the background.
I
had to admire her determination.
When Amanda decided to do something, there wasn’t anything she couldn’t
accomplish. Her recuperative
efforts these past two weeks had certainly paid off. Even though she still seemed a little
weak, she was getting around much better with each passing day.
We
headed into the hall, beginning our daily ritual with slow, deliberate steps.
“If you keep this up, you’ll be out of here in no time,” I praised, watching
proudly as she accepted the smiles of encouragement from people who passed by.
“The
sooner the better.”
“And
you're certain staying at Mr. Dorsey’s is a good idea?” I was still a little
worried about the plan. I would have preferred the convalescent hospital I’d
found across town, but Lee’s friend had insisted that he could make her more
than comfortable.
“Oh,
Mother, I’m so tired of hospitals,” she sighed. “I’ll be fine at Barney’s.
Besides, he has enough room for Lee, too.”
He
did have a very nice apartment with a spectacular view of the ocean. And if
there was a better cook, I hadn’t met one. He’d treated me to one of his special
dinners just the other night. At the very least, his culinary delights might be
able to get some meat back on my daughter’s bones. I could feel her ribs where
my hand rested just above her waist.
“I
guess it should be fine,” I agreed, adding knowingly, “especially the part about
having Lee there.”
“Mother.
. .”
“Amanda,
it’s all right,” I reassured her, struggling to hold in my grin. “I’m really not
that easily shocked you, know.”
She
concentrated on the floor as if her eyes were somehow connected to her feet. I
knew I’d managed to embarrass her. I didn’t understand my daughter sometimes.
She was behaving like a teenager who’d been caught necking on the couch. My
goodness, she was a grown woman and entitled to a little happiness.
“Amanda,”
I began again, determined to clear the air. “You don’t have to be self-conscious
about this. I’ve had some romantic getaways of my own, you know. It’s not that
hard to understand.”
I
continued on, ignoring the pained look she gave me. “Remember that lovely long
weekend with Hunter? We had the most wonderful time. . .”
“Oh,
Mother,” she moaned, looking exactly like Jamie when he rolled his eyes at his
brother. “I really can’t discuss Daddy’s friend Mr. Conrad with
you.”
“And
why not?” I laughed. “We’re both over twenty-one. And Hunter really was a very
attractive man, especially for his age.”
“Ohhh.
. .” She shook her head, making that exasperated little sound again. I noticed
that we’d made it halfway around the hall and she was still going strong.
Nothing like a little honesty to get the old adrenalin flowing, I thought with a
grin.
“I
know we haven’t discussed the fact that you and Lee were out here together,” I
continued, deciding to lay all my cards on the table while I had the
opportunity. “But I think we should just get this right out in the open. They
say that truth will cleanse the soul, and the truth of this particular situation
is that the two of you love each other. Don’t deny it,” I added, seeing her
begin to form the usual protest, “it’s as plain as the nose on your
face.”
“I
can’t deny it,” she said at last. “I do love Lee, very
much.”
“And
when the two of you are married. . .”
“Mother,”
she said firmly, pulling away and walking on her own. “You’ve been trying to
marry me off ever since my divorce. Please, let’s not go down that path
again.”
“Amanda
Jean West, are you going to stand there and tell me that you don’t want to marry
Lee? Because,” I told her emphatically, “I’m simply not going to believe
that.”
“I
didn’t say that,” she countered, grasping my arm to steady herself. “It’s just
that sometimes things are more complicated than they
seem.”
“What’s
so complicated? You love each other. It doesn’t get any simpler than
that.”
“Love
is simple,” she sighed, absently twirling the tie on her robe, “life
isn’t.”
“Amanda,”
I began, trying to decipher what she was trying to tell
me.
“Lee
and I need some more time to get things sorted out, that’s
all.”
“You
know I would never pressure you, dear. I trust you to know what’s right.” I put
my arm around her again and gave her a little squeeze. “All I want is for you to
be happy.”
“I
know you do,” she said, a tiny catch in her voice. “I am happy. It’s just. .
.”
“It’s
just that you’ve been pushing yourself too hard. Nothing looks good through
tired eyes. Come on,” I said, guiding her down the hall, “Let’s get you back to
your room.”
I
expected an argument, but instead she only gave me grateful smile. I helped her
settle into bed, pulling the covers up around her as I tucked her in. I adjusted
the bedrails so she wouldn’t fall out then stepped back, taking a long look at
her sweet face. She seemed so young and vulnerable lying there, just as she had
when she was three. A tiny little
girl sleeping in her big bed for the first time. The only thing missing from the
picture was her beloved doll, Lois Ann.
“Mother.”
She caught my eye, as if wanting to confide her secrets, the same way she did
when she was little. Then, just as quickly, glanced away, saying only, “Thank
you.”
“For
what, darling?” I asked in concern. Her voice spoke of her weariness and
something else I couldn’t quite decipher.
“For
everything.”
“You
don’t have to thank me. I love you, Amanda, you know that, there is nowhere else
I would be.”
“Not
just for being here now,” she said quietly, reaching out to take my hand. “For
the past five years, too. I know I
don’t tell you very often, but it’s meant a lot –to me and to the boys. I just
wanted you to know that.”
“Of
course I know that.” I looked at her closely, wondering a little at her mood.
“Amanda, are you okay?”
“Yeah,”
she said, taking a deep breath. “I guess I’m just feeling a little emotional. I
can’t explain it. Sometimes events
just move so fast and you get all caught up in them. You find yourself doing
things you wouldn’t have dreamed of in other circumstances. Things you realize
later will hurt the people you love. But you have to do them anyway, you know?
You can’t stop.”
She
looked as if she was going to cry. “Darling, you’re talking nonsense. You would
never deliberately hurt anyone. You’re just tired - you’ve been pushing yourself
too hard to get back on your feet.” I sighed, reaching out to smooth her
forehead. “I think a little rest and relaxation in the California sun is going
to be just what the doctor ordered.”
“Maybe.”
“Now,”
I said, glancing at my watch, “I’ve got to get to the airport or I’m going to
miss my plane. You close your eyes and get some rest. Before you know it, Lee
will be here and everything will look different.”
“Okay,”
she agreed, giving in to her fatigue. “Give the boys a big kiss for me and tell
them I’ll see them soon.”
“I
promise. And you do the same to Lee. But I guess I don’t have to tell you to do
that, do I?” I laughed.
“No,
you don’t,” she answered, a smile back on her face.
I
grabbed my suitcase, pausing at the door for one last look. Amanda’s eyes were
closed, her anxiety dissipating as she surrendered to sleep. I told myself not
to worry, that everything would be fine as soon as Lee
arrived.
My
head was down as I left the room, adjusting the tote strap on my suitcase, so I
didn’t see the man until it was too late.
“Oh,
I’m so sorry,” I apologized, a little guilty for almost slamming him in the face
with the door.
“No
harm done, ma’am,” he replied gallantly. “I’m looking for Amanda’s
room?”
He
was an older gentleman, a little on the heavy side. From his attire, I guessed
he was someone who spent a lot of time by the ocean. “Well, you’ve found it,” I
joked. “I’m her mother, Dotty West.”
“Pleased
to meet you, ma’am. I’m Gus Weinstein, a friend of Barney
Dorsey’s.”
“Oh,
yes, Mr. Weinstein. I believe Barney’s spoken of you.” Actually, the man’s name
didn’t ring a bell, but it seemed like the gracious thing to say. “I’m afraid
Amanda’s sleeping right now, but I’m sure she’d love a visit when she wakes up.”
“Oh,
that’s all right, I won’t disturb her. I just wanted to check out for myself
that she was okay.”
“She’s
just fine,” I smiled, touched by the concern of an almost total stranger for my
daughter. I checked my watch again, making a move toward the elevator. I didn’t
want to miss my flight. “I was just on my way to the airport, Mr. Weinstein.
“
“I’ll
walk out with you then, if you don’t mind. Actually, I’m leaving myself later
tonight - off to visit my son and his family. I’m just getting out of the
hospital myself.”
“Oh?”
I enquired, more out of politeness than interest. “Nothing serious, I hope.”
“Actually,
I had a pretty close call with some carbon monoxide
poisoning.”
“I’m
sorry to hear it,” I answered absently, my mind already on the trip home. “I
guess you can never be too careful with things like that. They say twenty-five
percent of all accidents happen in the home.”
“Oh,
this was no accident,” he said, shaking his head in disgust as we left the
hospital. He graciously hailed me a cab. “That whole Bodega business turned out
to be a lot more than any of us bargained for.”
“Um,
yes,” I said, frowning a little. I had no idea what this man was talking
about.
“That’s
why I felt so bad about what happened,” he continued, oblivious to my confusion.
“Lee and Amanda are such a nice young couple, and I kinda felt
responsible.”
“Responsible?”
The
cab pulled up and he opened the door, handing my suitcase to the driver. “You
know, for her being shot and ruining their honeymoon like that and all.”
He
smiled, held the door open, and politely assisted me inside. “Well, please tell
them I wish them every happiness.”
The cab pulled away from the
curb. I sat very still, staring out the window until Mr. Weinstein became a
small dot on a blurred horizon. Then very slowly, I turned around.
The most inconsequential
things suddenly seemed important. I studied the drivers picture, watched the
numbers change on the counter that recorded the fare, traced a small tear in the
seat’s upholstery with my finger.
The cabbie really should do something about that. One small little tear
like that can turn into a gaping hole that can’t be repaired. I slid my finger
between the vinyl and the cotton stuffing. Mr. Weinstein must have been
mistaken, I told myself emphatically. This was only a vacation, nothing
more. My daughter didn't lie. She’d
always told me truth.
Always.
I
heard a telltale ripping sound as that tiny perforation in the seat became
wider. I remembered Amanda standing in her bedroom, solemnly assuring me that
she had absolutely no idea where her best friend Debbie Ann McCabey could be.
And all the time, the girl was sitting in the attic just one floor above my
head, while her parents and the police frantically scoured the town. If I’d only
had eyes to see.
But
that was long ago. Why, she hadn’t been much older than Phillip at the
time. This was different - she was
an adult now. Surely my daughter
wouldn’t hide something like this from me?
I
toyed with the frayed edges of the seat, trying to ignore that nagging little
voice in the back of my head.
Amanda hadn’t really confided in me in a long time, it told me - and
certainly not in the last few years.
I had a sudden picture of her dashing out the door as she tossed off
another excuse. Vague stories about class reunions and some mysterious club I
didn’t even know she’d joined. Trips to the drug store that seemed to take all
day, not to mention all those unexplained emergency sprayings by the termite
man. And where had she been those
times she’d packed us off to visit the relatives? I mean, that ridiculous story
about saving Washington from a bomb was just too outlandish to be
believed.
I
felt the balance of life shift again; I could no longer tell what was true and
what was a lie. Or maybe the emotional upheaval of the last few weeks suddenly
cast a clearer light so that things I’d always overlooked now made perfect
sense. Lee’s evasive answers when I’d questioned him about signing the
permission forms for the surgery, Amanda’s obvious distress earlier when I’d
broached the subject of marriage. It had been there all along, right in front of
me, as plain as. . . as the unspoken promise in both their eyes whenever they
looked at each other.
I
suddenly knew without a doubt that Mr. Gus Weinstein had been telling the
truth.
But
why all the secrecy? Why would
Amanda tell a stranger about her marriage and not her own mother? We were so
close, weren't we? At least, I'd always thought. . . I drew a deep breath, then
slowly let it out. Maybe, I realized sadly, maybe I didn’t really know my
daughter at all.
No,
I couldn't accept that. There must be an explanation for this, I reasoned,
something I just couldn’t understand right now. Maybe she’d intended to tell me, then
all of this had happened - the shooting, her surgery, a slow recovery ahead –
and she didn’t know how. She really
wasn’t herself at the moment. After all, she had almost died.
Maybe
it was Lee. Maybe he didn’t want a big wedding. With his background, I could understand
that an instant family might be a little overwhelming. Still. . .
The
cab came to a stop in front of the terminal. I quickly handed the driver some
bills, retrieved my suitcase and headed inside. Numbly, I checked the departure
information. My flight was on time; they were even boarding. Putting one foot in front of the other,
I marched to the gate, handed my ticket to the agent and slowly made my way down
the plane's narrow aisle.
Automatically stowing my luggage, I settled into the cramped seat,
resting my head against the small oval window. In a few short hours I would be
back on familiar ground. Maybe then everything would make
sense.
I
took another deep breath, remembering how I’d felt at the beginning of this
journey, not knowing if Amanda would live or die. Now, that was the one thing I did know
for certain. And the rest – well, the rest we would just have to sort out in
time.
The
plane began its taxi down the runway, and I closed my eyes. Amanda was my only
child; she would tell me the truth.
I just needed to give her the chance. Until then. . . well, I could keep
a secret, too.
*
* * * * * * * * * * * *
PART THREE:
JAMIE KING
I
really didn’t like Lee Stetson. I spent one whole afternoon trying to decide
what it was about him that bothered me so much, but no matter how hard I tried,
I couldn’t come up with anything except a vague, uneasy feeling. Like whenever
he talked to me, he seemed to have one eye on the nearest
exit.
Don’t
get me wrong, he made all the right moves. Whenever my brother Phillip and I saw
him, he was always polite and friendly. I guess you could say he tried to be our
pal. He let Phillip mess around under the hood of his Corvette one morning,
something I could have told him was a big mistake. He even offered to take me
with him to the track the next time he took his car out for a few test laps. Of
course, I wasn’t going to hold my breath waiting for that to happen. Adults
always say things they don’t mean, especially to kids.
Nobody
else seemed to share my opinion of him, though. My mother seemed to like him a
lot, but that was no real surprise.
After all, he was her boss, and I’d heard her tell Grandma that they
worked together on special projects all the time. Grandma said he was a real buff hunk. Of
course, I’d seen her pick up a total stranger at the produce counter in the
supermarket, so I didn’t usually think too much of her opinion. Phillip thought
he was an okay guy, but then again, Phillip liked everyone, including that rude
Nancy Crawford who currently had him on a leash. Even my dad seemed to get along
with him just fine. In fact, when Mr. Stetson had come over to our house on
Christmas Eve, Dad had acted like they were friends.
I’d
been looking forward to the holiday for a long time. As far back as I could remember, it had
always been my favorite time of year. I know lots of kids say that, but
to me it wasn’t just about all the gnarly presents Phillip and I received. When
I was little, Christmas always meant that my dad was coming home.
Even
when my parents were married, Dad didn’t live with us year round. He was an
important lawyer, and his job took him all over the word, to really neat places
like Japan and Africa. Mom said that he was busy giving back to people who were
less fortunate, and that Phillip and I should be very proud of him. I was glad
he wanted to help people build a better life, but sometimes I thought it might
be nice if he was around to help me build a tree house or practice my
reading.
But
no matter where he was during the rest of the year, he always came home at
Christmastime. Mom would spend weeks getting ready, cleaning the house and
baking all sorts of good things to eat. Phillip and I would pitch in, too,
drawing pictures to hang on the refrigerator and helping with the decorations,
and all my grandparents would come for Christmas dinner. Grandma West would make
her special sweet potato pie, Grandma King would fuss over us all and my
grandpas would play gin rummy. And my mom would laugh a lot. I think that’s what
I loved best –Mom was always so happy when we were all together.
Until
one year when everything changed.
I
had just turned seven that November. I remembered it so clearly because I’d had
a really big party - Mom had let me invite my whole second grade class. But the
best surprise was when Dad came home the night before my birthday.
Although
for some reason, Mom didn’t seem too glad to see him. I can remember getting out
of bed for a drink of water and hearing them arguing. I knew I should have been
in my room, but I was thinking about all the presents I was going to get the
next day, and I couldn’t sleep.
“I
can’t believe you’d pick today of all days to do this, Joe,” I heard my mother
tell my dad in an angry voice she’d never used before. They hardly ever fought
around us. “In case you’d forgotten, tomorrow is Jamie’s
birthday.”
Of
course he knew it was my birthday, I thought with a frown, rubbing my bare foot
across the carpet so hard that my skin burned. Why would Mom think he’d forget
something like that? He’d come all that way just to help me celebrate. It made
me feel very grown up and every bit as important as all those people who
depended on Dad for help.
“I’m
sorry about the timing, Amanda, but it was the only week I could spare,” my dad
answered. He sounded really tired, and I wondered why he didn’t get some sleep.
He always went right to bed when he came home for one of his visits. Mom had
explained that flying so far made you really exhausted. “The big holiday drive
at EAO begins next week,” he continued as I crept closer to their bedroom. “And
I thought it might be easier if we told them together.”
“Nothing
is going to make this easier, but I suppose you’re right. I just didn’t want. .
.”
The
breeze from the open bathroom window blew the door shut with a loud thud and
suddenly both my parents were in the hall staring down at me.
“How
long have you been standing there, Jamie?” Mom asked, glancing nervously at Dad.
Her voice was very low and her eyes were all red, like mine had looked that time
I’d broken my arm. It had really hurt and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t
stop crying.
“You
need to get to bed or you’ll be falling asleep in the middle of your party,” Dad
joked, picking me up and carrying me back to my room. He tucked me in and gave
me a kiss goodnight. “Now close your eyes. Tomorrow’s going to be a great
day.”
Dad
was right; it was a great day. Everyone had fun. I didn’t even mind that I’d been forced
to invite Phillip’s stupid friends, too. I can still remember the smallest
details from that party; the big bunch of red and blue balloons that hung on the
front door, the neat electric car Tommy Newhouse gave me, and Phillip’s friend
Jimmy Deason with frosting smeared all over his nose.
And
the miserable look on Mom’s face the next day when she and Dad told us they were
getting a divorce.
They’d
called us both into the living room. Phillip and I sprawled on the sofa while
they sat across from us, Mom smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt and Dad
repeatedly clearing his throat. They both still loved us, they said, that would
never change; but they had decided they shouldn’t be married anymore. Phillip
cried a little then, even though he denied it later. Dad patted his knee and
promised that things wouldn’t be that different; he would still see us whenever
he could. I just sat there, kicking
my shoe against the cushions, thinking about how happy I’d been yesterday when
he’d helped me open my presents.
He’d
told us things wouldn’t change, but they did. Grandma moved into the guest room
permanently; Mom started to look for a part-time job; and Dad didn’t come home
for Christmas any more.
This
year was a different story. Dad had moved to Washington permanently last January
and had his own apartment about fifteen minutes away. Even so, he was spending
the Christmas holidays at our house - just like old times. My mother was glad,
too. At least that’s what Grandma thought.
I’d overheard her mention to my Great-Aunt Lillian that she hadn’t seen
Mom this happy in years.
Mom had been in a really
good mood lately. It was a real change from the way she’d been acting at
Thanksgiving. She’d seemed so down, which wasn’t like her at all. She’d tried to
shrug off my questions, saying that she was just trying to forget some nasty
stuff that had happened at work.
But I had a feeling it was more than that; I could always tell when she
was upset.
I
was happy that having Dad around this year had put her in such a good
mood.
A
mood she seemed to want to share with all her friends. Like Mr. Stetson. Mom was a pretty generous person, so it
was natural for her to want to include him in our Christmas. Especially since he
didn’t seem to have anywhere else to go. It wasn’t the first time she’d done
something like that. Her good friend, Dean, had come for dinner one year. He’d
even brought me an entire junior weatherman kit, with a barometer and
everything. I remembered thinking it was a lot cooler than he
was.
Grandma
had really liked Dean – even more than Mom did, I think. She kept saying that
Mom and Dean were going to get married, and Phillip seemed to agree with her,
but I was pretty certain they were both wrong. My mother never looked at Dean in
any particular way, never made him special meals or gave him those little hugs
she used to give my Dad. And, as it turned out, I was right. Mom began to spend
more time at work, and Dean slowly stopped coming around. The only place Phillip and I ever saw
Dean McGuire these days was on the weekend weather reports on Channel
4.
So
that’s why I didn’t think too much of Mr. Stetson coming to Christmas Eve
dinner. Or even of Mom kissing him when he left later that night. After all,
Phillip had hung that mistletoe by the front door on purpose, so that everyone
who came in and out would get caught. But I did think it was a little strange
when the guy showed up again the next day. Especially after Dad left early,
saying he had a previous engagement for Christmas dinner.
That’s
when Mr. Stetson really started to bug me.
And
every time he came over, he seemed to get under my skin more and more. Maybe it
was the way my mother looked at him or held his hand when she thought no one
could see. Or the way Grandma fussed over him and started talking about marriage
again whenever Mom was out of the room. And then there was Phillip. .
.
Phillip
just wouldn’t stop yakking about him. To hear him tell it, the guy walked on
water or something. And Lee – well, Lee seemed to like my brother just as much.
He didn’t look like he wanted to get out of the room when he talked to
Phillip.
Of
course, that was nothing new. People always liked Phillip. Especially girls. I
mean, what wasn’t to like? He’d grown a foot since Christmas, he was a starting
forward on the basketball team, and he hung out with the cool crowd at school.
Plus, he had 20/20 vision and straight teeth.
Definitely
not what I saw when I looked into the mirror.
There
were times I wondered if we were even related. When I was little and Phillip was
mad at me, he used to tell me that I was adopted. I’d believed him for about a
month, until I finally found the courage to ask Mom. I knew from the expression
on her face that Phillip was in for one of her little ‘talks’. It couldn’t have
happened to a nicer guy.
Of
course, I loved my brother, I really did, it’s just sometimes he was a bit much
to take. Especially when he was
around that stupid Nancy. Man, her I really couldn’t stand; especially after
she’d called me ‘Zorba the Geek’ in front of a bunch of Phillip’s friends one
afternoon at the mall.
That
had been Lee Stetson’s fault, too, in a round about way. Mom had promised to drive me to pick up
the book on cellular mitosis I’d special ordered at the bookstore, but at the
last minute she’d had to go into work. She was working on a complicated project,
she told me by way of apology. It must have been a pretty messy one, too,
because I’d heard Grandma complaining that morning about the pile of sooty
clothes she’d left in the hamper for her to wash. Still, if it hadn’t been for
Lee and that stupid project, I wouldn’t have had to tag along to the mall with
Phillip, and Nancy Crawford wouldn’t have called me that awful name that somehow
seemed to stick.
And
to make matters worse, Dad invited us all out to dinner the next week to meet
his new fiancée.
Mom
said she couldn’t go; she had a doctor’s appointment after work. Just routine, she assured us, but she’d
already missed it once, and she’d be in big trouble if it happened again.
Grandma snickered and said that it was amazing the lengths some people would go
to get out of a simple dinner engagement.
She
was home and waiting for us when Dad dropped us off. “Did you guys have a nice
time?” she asked, her face glued to her magazine. We both knew she was really
asking if we’d liked Carrie.
“Yeah,
she seemed okay,” Phillip told her, and I agreed. Actually, she’d been more than
okay. She taught advanced biology at a Bethesda high school, and she’d offered
to work with me on my science fair project this year. Since it was a pretty safe
bet that Mom would be too busy to be much help, I’d gladly accepted. Besides,
science wasn’t really her best subject. I hadn’t forgotten that radio receiver
disaster from a few years ago.
“Dad
said the wedding would be sometime in July,” I informed her, flopping down next
to her on the sofa. “He said he wants us both to be ushers.” I watched her closely, trying to gauge
her reaction. I thought she seemed a little sad when I told her the part about
us being in the wedding. I hoped she didn’t mind because I was kind of looking
forward to wearing a tux and everything.
“That
will be nice, fellas,” she said at last, mussing up my hair like she used to do
when I was a little kid, and I guessed she was okay with it. Mom never said
anything she didn’t mean.
“Dad
really wants you to meet her, too,” I’d added, giving her a hug in return. It
was true. He’d said that no matter what happened, we’d always be his
family.
“As
soon as I get back from my vacation, I promise.” Giving us both a big grin, she
sent us off to finish our homework and get into bed. She sure seemed happy about
her vacation. I smiled back as I turned to follow Phillip upstairs. Carrie might
have more time for my project, but she could never take my mother’s place.
I
was going to miss her when she went on her trip.
*
* *
Phillip
had been looking forward to Mom’s vacation almost as much as she had. And even
though I was still a little ticked that she hadn’t taken us along, I had to
admit that we usually had a pretty neat time when Mom went out of town. Grandma
was such a pushover. She always let us stay up to watch the late show with her
and drink Chocco Blocko shakes instead of milk for dinner. And she hardly ever
made us eat green beans.
We
were full of plans for the week. It
had taken some doing, but I’d finally convinced Grandma that she didn’t really
need to go with me to get my haircut tomorrow. I had an idea about how I could get rid
of that ‘Zorba the Geek’ nickname once and for all. And Phillip had conned her
into letting him study with Nancy on Tuesday night. Although, I don’t know if
that was such a wise decision on Grandma’s part. With their approach to
homework, I had a feeling neither one of them would see a high school classroom
next year if they were left to their own devices.
Homework.
That’s what Phillip and I were doing when we heard the news. At least, I was;
Phillip was lying on his bed listening to his Walkman. He was so absorbed that
he didn’t even hear the knock on the door or see Dad stick his head
inside.
“Hey,
Dad, what are you doing here?” I was a little surprised. We saw a lot of him,
but never unannounced on a Sunday night, especially when Mom was out of town and
we had school the next day. Mom and Grandma had very particular rules about
school nights.
He
walked into our bedroom, Grandma right behind him, and I knew by their
expression that something was really wrong. So did Phillip; I could see it in
his reaction when he finally tore the headphones off his ears. The sounds of U2
blared out as they dangled around his neck.
“Hey,
fellas, we need to talk,” Dad said somberly, sitting down beside me on the bed.
“I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.”
We
both sat very still, waiting for him to continue. It wasn’t like him to beat
around the bush like that. Dad and Mom were both pretty
direct.
He
took a deep breath, shaking his head as he looked first at Phillip, then at me.
I looked away, focusing on the yellow line that ran through the red plaid design
on my bedspread.
“Your
mother’s had an accident.” I heard
the words but I couldn’t really process them. Phillip dropped his Walkman and it
hit the dresser with a sharp crack, and all I could think was how mad he was
going to be if it was broken.
“Mom
had an accident?” I repeated, pushing my glasses back up my nose. They didn’t
fit right and were always falling down. Mom had told me we’d go get them
readjusted as soon as she came home from her trip. I raised my head and
encountered Dad’s face.
“Yes,
she’s in the hospital in California,” he said in a subdued voice that told me
just how worried he really was. I’d never heard my Dad yell when he was angry or
upset; instead, he just got quiet. “She was shot earlier today and just got out
of surgery.”
“Shot?
With a gun?” Phillip asked.
“Yes,”
Dad answered in a voice that was even lower.
“Is
she okay? Can we talk to her?” I
could tell by the way Phillip’s foot was tapping on the floor that he was just
as upset as Dad. I was glad he’d had the nerve to ask the questions I was too
afraid to voice.
Dad
and Grandma glanced quickly at each other, then looked away. “Not right now,”
Grandma replied, her own voice a little shaky. “When I spoke to Lee, he said that she
was in intensive care.”
I
sat there, trying to take it all in. Nothing made any sense. Mom had been shot.
And Lee Stetson was there. It was a few minutes before I realized that Grandma
was still talking.
“.
. .so that’s all we know right now. I’m going to fly out there tomorrow, boys,
and your Dad is going to stay here with you. At least until we know for sure
what’s going to happen. . .”
“Is
she going to. . .” I couldn’t finish my question, but it didn’t matter. Neither
Dad nor Grandma seemed able to answer it. Instead, Dad put his arm around me and
pulled me close, motioning for Phillip to come sit on his other side.
“No
matter what, we’ll get through this together,” he said somberly, while Grandma
looked as if she was trying not to cry. “Your mother’s a strong woman. She’ll do
her best to come back to us all.”
I
hoped my Dad was right, but nothing seemed certain any more. I only knew that I
didn’t want my mother to die. She was the glue that held my family
together.
He
talked to us for a little while longer, then finally left us alone to try and
get some sleep. I lay there in the dark, listening to my brother’s raspy
breathing, trying not to think about what had happened to Mom. And what still
might happen.
“Phillip,
are you okay?” I asked when I couldn’t stand to hear him any more.
“Mom’s
in intensive care in a hospital three thousand miles away, Worm Brain, how do
you think I am?”
I
could tell that he’d been crying. Phillip always got particularly nasty when
he’d been caught doing something he considered ‘unmanly’. Last fall, when Mom
had been on the run, he’d never missed an opportunity to act out his tough guy
image. I could tell it was going to be the same thing all over again this time.
I wished sometimes he didn’t feel like he had to pretend with me. I was just as
worried as he was.
“What
do you think will happen to us if Mom. . .” I couldn’t say the words out loud,
but I couldn’t keep from hearing them in my head. If Mom
dies.
“You
heard Dad – I guess we’d live with him and Carrie.”
“Yeah.”
I
wasn’t sure exactly what I thought about that idea. Sure, I loved my Dad, but
this was home. And Grandma – if we went to live with Dad, then what would happen
to her? If Mom died, she’d be all
alone. She’d need us. I didn’t want to leave her; and I knew Mom wouldn’t want
that, either. But what if we didn’t have a choice?
There
were just too many questions running through my head. I closed my eyes with a
sigh, trying not to think about all the possible answers.
*
* *
“You’re really in for it now,” Phillip
announced me as he bounced the basketball off the wall in our room. “I’ve never seen Dad’s face look purple
before.”
I
lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to pretend Phillip was someplace
else. It was kind of hard, though, with all the racket he was making with that
stupid ball.
This
had been the worst day. When Grandma had called from California to tell us that
Mom was going to be okay, I didn’t even know what to say. I knew I should feel
happy - that I was happy - but all I could think about was the look on the
principal’s face when she told my Dad I’d been fighting during
recess.
“Is
it true Mrs. Dennis had to call Dad out of court to come into the office?”
Phillip continued in his most irritating voice. “That’s what Jimmy told
everyone. And that she felt sorry for you ‘cause of Mom, so she went easy on
you.” How Phillip’s friend Jimmy, a guy who was still reading on the fifth grade
level, had managed to find all that out, I couldn’t fathom. The school’s
underground must have been working overtime.
“Hey,
maybe now that Mom’s gonna be all right, you’ll get suspended after all,”
Phillip added happily. There were times I really wished he would do the world a
favor and disappear.
I
really couldn’t help what had happened. Tommy Newhouse, a guy I’d thought was my
friend, started calling me that stupid ‘Zorba’ nickname. On top of everything else in my life, it
was just too much to take. I’d had to punch him. Then one thing led to another
and before I knew it, I was in Mrs. Dennis’ office listening to her tell my Dad
that my behavior, while understandable, really couldn’t be overlooked. She’d
been forced to give me a week’s after-school detention. Tommy got off with just
a couple of days, which I didn’t really understand since I was the one who’d
ended up with the black eye.
As
it turned out, detention wasn’t such a bad thing after all. At least it gave me
a chance to get some reading done in relative peace and quiet. Our house was
anything but these days, with Phillip still acting like a jerk and Dad trying to
finish up all the work he’d brought home from the office.
The
only bright spot was Carrie. She came over almost every night to cook dinner,
and she always brought something new for me to read. Sometimes it was a book;
other times, an article she’d shared with her class. She’d even offered some pretty good
advice on how to deal with Tommy Newhouse and the other guys that were giving me
a hard time at school.
“I
don’t see why you like Carrie so much but you don’t like Lee,” Phillip asked me
one night as we got ready for bed. “He’s really a lot more
fun.”
The
two of them had played a quick game of one-on-one earlier when Lee stopped by to
pick up some of Mom’s things. Phillip said Lee was flying back to California to
stay with her until she was well enough to come home, which should be in another
week or so.
“How
do you know all that?” I’d asked suspiciously. Phillip wasn’t always the most
reliable source of information.
“Lee
told me, Bozo, how do you think I know? He’d have told you, too, if you ever
bothered to say two words to him.”
I
turned my back on my brother, heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I hadn’t been very nice to Lee today.
He’d invited me to play basketball, too, but I’d mumbled something about
homework and escaped upstairs. I knew that Mom would be ashamed of my behavior
if he told her, but I couldn’t help it.
I really didn’t want to see Lee Stetson right now.
I
think Dad felt the same way. I’d accidentally overheard them arguing in the back
yard when I took out the trash. I
shouldn’t have eavesdropped. Mom
wouldn’t have approved of that, either, but I’d never heard Dad so upset – not
even when he told us Mom had been shot. Even though his voice was eerily quiet,
I could still feel the anger radiating off him.
I
unconsciously held my breath as his tone grew louder. “I’ve tried to be
understanding about the choices she’s made,” Dad told Lee, “but this is too much
to be expected to handle. I’ve had to bite my tongue not to say anything to
Dotty.”
I
couldn’t hear Lee’s response, so I took a few tentative steps towards the gazebo
and peered around the corner. Dad was pacing back and forth, his right hand
rubbing his neck as if he was trying to work out a kink. “Some partner you
turned out to be,” he stated harshly. “Or is that the way you people normally
operate? Don’t you usually have back-up?”
“Of
course it’s not and yes, we do,” Lee answered evenly, smoothing his hair back
with his hand. “When we’re working.” He was either really miserable or really
angry, I couldn’t decide which.
“I
assumed. . .”
“Well,
you assumed wrong,” he finished, his tone conveying an odd sense of calm that
somehow seemed dangerous. I crept closer so that I could hear better, flattening
myself against the house so they wouldn’t see me. I didn’t have to worry, though; they
were both too engrossed in each other to notice me.
“Then
just what were you doing out there?” Dad demanded, his eyes squinting the way he
did when he was trying to figure out a puzzling point of
law.
“You’ll
have to ask Amanda that question, Joe.” Lee took a deep breath, pausing to
exhale loudly before adding, “I’m not the one who can answer it for
you.”
They
stared at each other in hostile silence, Dad frowning until a deep line appeared
between his eyes, Lee biting his lip as if to force the words back into his
mouth. Finally, Dad was the one who looked away, saying only, “I
see.”
“Joe.
. .” Lee began, then suddenly stopped. I took a second to study him more
closely. He had a funny expression on his face, the same look guys in school
wore when the teacher was about to ask a question, and they hadn’t read the
assignment.
“Well,”
Dad finished, looking down at the white bench like he’d never seen it before,
“Tell Amanda the boys send their love and we’ll – they’ll - be waiting for her
to get home.”
Lee
nodded, brushing past my Dad and heading for his car. I’d crept out of there and
headed back upstairs, trying to figure out what I’d just seen. No matter how
hard I tried to understand, it didn’t make any sense.
*
* *
Phillip
and I were happy to have Grandma home. Dad moved back to his apartment and his
regular life, and we returned to ours. It was almost like Mom was away on one of
her trips, and I could pretend that nothing bad had happened to
her.
But
it had. She’d almost died.
I
could see how much it had affected Grandma. She really wasn’t herself at all,
especially for the first few days after she came home. I couldn’t ever remember
a time when she’d been so preoccupied; she hadn’t once raised her voice to
either one of us or reminded us to make our beds or pick up our room.
After
a few days like that, I started to think that maybe Mom wasn’t as okay as
everybody kept saying. But if that were true, then Grandma wouldn’t have been so
short with her when she’d called the other night. She was always so protective
of Mom, even when she only had a cold. The whole thing was very peculiar. Almost
like they’d had a fight and were too stubborn to make up.
Although,
Mom had seemed pretty cheerful when I’d talked to her. She’d sounded so much
like her old self that I’d forgotten how upset I’d been for the last month. I’d
told her all about my science fair project, tactfully omitting Carrie’s part in
it, and the new book I was reading for school. She’d promised to listen to the
whole story when she came home tomorrow. When I’d hung up the phone, I couldn’t
wait to see her, even if it did mean that Lee would be there,
too.
Grandma
might have been distracted, but she was still cooking all my mom’s favorite
foods for her homecoming dinner. And I could tell by the way she’d fussed over
the table that she was almost as anxious as I was to have Mom back. As if she,
too, was hoping that nothing had changed.
Mom
had been away one month and two days. After everything she’d been through, I
kind of wondered if she would look different.
She
didn’t, though. Well, maybe she was a little thinner and moved a bit more
slowly, but her smile was still the same. So was the big hug she gave to me and
to Phillip as soon as she walked through the door.
“I
missed you guys so much,” she said, the tears welling up in her eyes, and I knew
this was going to turn mushy. “And I think you’ve both grown a foot.” She hugged
us again and looked around in wonder, as if she was memorizing everything – me,
Phillip, the house. And all the while, Grandma stood silently on the landing by
the stairs, just watching.
My
mother noticed that, too, and turned towards her kind of shyly. “Hi, Mother,”
she said in a quiet voice, almost like she was testing the waters, and held out
her arms.
Grandma
looked at her for a minute, then slowly smiled, coming down the stairs into her
waiting embrace. “I’m glad you’re
home, darling,” was all she said, holding on to Mom for dear
life.
Then
we were all talking a mile a minute, Mom telling us about California, Phillip
going on and on about the spring dance, and Grandma saying she hoped the pot
roast turned out okay because you couldn’t trust the new butcher at the
supermarket.
No
one seemed to notice Lee standing quietly on the front step. That is, until Mom
smiled at him and held out her hand. He grinned back then moved through the
door, setting her suitcases by the stairs. He walked slowly over to her and
closed his hand around hers, their fingers intertwining as she led him into the
den. They sat down side by side on
the couch, and Mom rested her head on his shoulder.
My
brother immediately tried to entice him into shooting some hoops, but Grandma
intervened, saying dinner was almost ready. So instead, Phillip regaled us all
with the latest statistics from the school basketball team playoffs. To hear him
tell it, he’d scored most of the points himself. I felt my smile begin to melt
into a frown.
And
dinner wasn’t much better. If it wasn’t Phillip, then it was Grandma, asking
everyone if they wanted seconds and fussing over Mom, worrying that she was too
tired or too cold.
“I’m
fine, really, Mother,” she said in exasperation, and I wondered why everyone
just didn’t leave her alone. She always hated it when people hovered over her.
“Don’t
let her tell you that, Dotty,” Lee said, smiling at Mom again. “She’s exhausted – she’s just too
stubborn to admit it.”
I
watched them with a scowl, wondering who’d appointed him her protector. Mom didn’t seem to mind, though, and
instead of protesting, she squeezed his leg under the table. I looked down at my
plate, rearranging my peas between bites of pot roast. I didn’t want to hurt Grandma’s
feelings, but suddenly I really wasn’t very hungry.
“May
I be excused?” I asked, wanting nothing more than to escape to my room.
“Are
you okay, Jamie?” Mom asked, with typical concern. “You didn’t eat
much.”
“Yeah,
I’m fine,” I answered hastily, already clearing my plate. “I have some homework
to finish up.”
Putting
my plate in the sink, I ran up the stairs two at a time so I wouldn’t have to
listen to them discuss my eating habits. I lay on my bed, trying to decide what
had made me so upset. The conversation from the kitchen drifted up the stairs,
Mom complaining that she was well enough to help clean up and Grandma insisting
that she sit down. Grandma must have won that battle, because everything became
quiet. I could hear the sound of the basketball hitting the concrete outside,
and I figured Phillip had finally conned Lee into that game. They seemed to get
along so well, all of them – just like family. A new family. And I wondered exactly how I fit into
the picture.
*
* *
“Keep
pushing!”
My
brother was screaming his usual brand of encouragement in the background, but I
blocked him out. I tried to dribble
the ball with one hand and keep Lee off of me with the other, but he was
guarding me pretty hard, and I was quickly running out of steam. Plus, it had rained that morning, and
the basketball court near Lee’s apartment was still wet, so I was a little
nervous about my footing.
“Jamie,
throw it – throw it,” Phillip yelled again. I was suddenly so mad that I chucked
the ball at Lee, aiming for his stomach. He deflected it with his arm at the
last minute, but I had a feeling he knew I’d done it deliberately. I doubled
over, putting my head down so I didn’t have to look him in the eye.
“Nice,”
Phillip commented, walking over to me, his arms swinging like he wanted to take
a punch - almost as badly as I wanted to take one at Lee.
“Sorry,”
I shot back. “I’m not Larry Byrd.”
“I
noticed,” he returned sarcastically.
“Hey,
hey, hey, c’mon,” Lee interjected, trying to keep the peace. “It was a good try,
what’ya want?”
“It
was a bad pass,” I replied angrily, “and this is a stupid
game.”
“So,
are you gonna quit?” Phillip leaned in, glaring down at me. He was itching for a
fight, but I thought I was pretty safe. I figured Mom wouldn’t be too impressed
with Lee’s parenting skills if he let my brother pop me
one.
“Hey,
Chief, why don’t you go get the ball, huh?” Lee said, patting him on the arm and
pushing him in the general direction of the bushes where the ball had
disappeared. “Go on.”
Then
he turned to me, bending over to try and look me in the eye. “Hey, Sport,” he said, still a little
winded by our game. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,”
I lied, wishing he would just go away.
Unfortunately,
he didn’t take the hint. “What are you so uptight with your brother for?” he
asked, searching in vain for a way to fix things.
“I’m
not uptight,” I replied, refusing to give an inch. “I just hate doing everything
he wants to do.”
“Well,
I thought you two wanted to shoot some hoops.”
“Well,
I know you did.” I was really acting like a jerk, but I couldn’t seem to stop
myself.
”We don’t have to play, you know,” he shot back, his annoyance
clearly apparent this time. I could tell he was finally beginning to get mad.
Actually, the way I’d been behaving, I was surprised it had taken him this
long.
”Well
it’s a little late for that now.” It was a little late for a lot of things, I
thought sadly.
Lee
turned away then, and for some reason I couldn’t explain, I felt even worse than
I had before. My reaction puzzled me. I should have been happy; I’d wanted to
tick the guy off, didn’t I?
I
sat down on the bench and watched Lee and Phillip play one-on-one for a while.
He gave Lee a pretty good run for his money, and I thought sourly that my
brother had become a pretty decent player. A much better player than I was.
Maybe I should have taken Lee up on one of his offers to practice.
That
thought depressed me as we all walked back to Lee’s apartment. And being forced
to listen to Phillip’s stupid jokes certainly didn’t help; jokes that for some
reason Lee seemed to think were pretty funny. By the time we reached his floor,
I was in a really foul mood.
“Mmm,”
Lee said as he opened his apartment door. “It smells like your mom’s been
cooking up some of that world class chili of hers.”
“I
could go for a BIG bowl of that,” Phillip agreed
enthusiastically.
“Yeah,”
Lee concurred, looking around for Mom. “Amanda?”
She
didn’t seem to be there.
“Uh,
look,” Lee said suddenly, “why don’t you guys go clean up? The bathroom’s down
the hall.
Okay?”
We
both nodded, heading down the hallway in strained silence. I still didn’t feel
like talking to Phillip, and he sure didn’t want to speak to me. I could tell he
was still pretty steamed.
“Listen,
guys,” Lee said when we reappeared a few minutes later. “A friend of mine is
having some car trouble, and I’m going to go help him
out.”
“Okay,”
Phillip told him agreeably. “ I can hold down the fort.”
“I’ll
bet you can,” Lee smiled back. Again I found my irrational jealousy at Lee’s
statement confusing. I mean - I couldn’t stand the guy, right? So what did I
care if he liked Phillip, anyway?
“Ah.
. . the VCR’s under the TV,” Lee continued, “you’ve got tapes, movies, whatever
you want. Okay? And, ah, let the answering machine take the
calls.”
“Okay.
Take care.” Phillip headed for the VCR, while I retrieved my book. Plopping down
into the big chair, I retreated behind the pages. Lee came back into the room,
and I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn’t want to acknowledge him. For some
strange reason, I felt like I wanted to cry, and I didn’t want him to
see.
“Hey,
Jamie,” he said kindly.
I
looked up. I could tell he was worried about me. His eyes had the same
expression as Dad’s when he wanted to have a serious talk. That was the last
thing I wanted.
“Are
you okay?” he asked.
“Sure,”
I mumbled, burying my nose in my book again.
“You
sure?”
“Sure,”
I repeated, glancing up at him, then back down just as
quickly.
“Okay,”
I heard him say as he headed out the door.
“You’re
such a doofus,” Phillip muttered as he put a tape in the
VCR.
“Why
don’t you shut up?” I told him, refusing to take my eyes off the page. He
finally obliged me, shifting his attention to the TV screen where Dirty Harry
was busy telling everyone to make his day.
And
me? I just kept right on reading. With any luck, I’d get through three more
chapters before Lee got back.
*
* *
“Hey,”
Phillip asked, looking up from his skateboard. Yesterday he’d finally started
speaking to me again, and now I couldn’t get him to stop. “How about we invite
Mr. Stetson to the skateboard competition on Saturday?”
We
were in the back yard preparing our boards for the big event. “He can have my
ticket,” I snarled, slamming the oil bottle back down on the table. I wished we
could do just one thing without Phillip having to mention Lee
Stetson.
“He’s
an all right guy,” my brother returned, beginning to get angry all over again.
“If you would just loosen up!”
“Look,”
I explained one more time, in plain terms that even a moron like Phillip could
understand. “I don’t like the guy. I’ll NEVER like the guy,
okay?”
“Come
on,” he said, throwing his wrench down on the table.
I
was about to walk over and cram it down his throat when Mom’s voice suddenly
interrupted us.
“Okay,
fellas,” she began pleasantly, before stopping suddenly by the back door. “Your
dinner’s in the oven,” she continued a little more slowly as she tried to figure
out what we’d been fighting about. “And I’ll probably be in the editing room all
night. . .” She took a deep breath, coming up right beside me. “What’s going on
out here?”
“Nothing,”
I muttered, not wanting to meet her eye.
“Junior
here’s just jealous of Lee,” Phillip volunteered with a suitably sour
expression. “I’m going outside to practice.” Standing up, he grabbed his
skateboard and beat a hasty retreat, leaving me to face the music
alone.
“Jamie,”
Mom said quietly, grabbing my hand. “Let’s talk.” She sat down by the picnic
table, and I could tell that her patience with me had just about run out. She
held both my hands in hers and looked me straight in the eye, posing the
question I’d been trying to answer to ever since
Christmas.
“You’re
jealous of Lee?”
I
looked right back at her and raised my eyebrows in pained confusion, still
unable to put a label to what I was feeling.
“Hey,
look,” she told me, kissing my hand as if that could make it better; the same
way she’d always done when I was little. “You don’t have any reason to be
jealous of Lee. . . okay?”
“Yeah,”
I murmured, struggling to believe her.
“Look,
when I was out in California,” she continued, “it was knowing that you and
Phillip loved me that helped me get through that. You know that, now come on.”
She reached up and brushed her fingers across my cheek, the way she’d done a
thousand times before when she’d tucked me into bed at night or comforted me
when I had a bad dream. It was simple gesture, but it made me feel good, secure.
. . loved.
“I
love you,” she went on, echoing my thoughts, “just as much as I love Phillip or
your Grandmother. . . or Lee.”
“Sure,”
I answered, clinging to my animosity. “Whenever you’re
around.”
“Oh,
sweetheart,” she said, spinning me around and pulling me down next to her. “I
know, I know.” And it suddenly occurred to me that maybe she felt just as
confused as I did – needing to be at work with Lee but at the same time needing
to be home with us, too.
I
heard her take a breath, and I suddenly realized something. She loved Lee
Stetson. It was the first time she’d actually said those words to me out loud.
She seemed so sad, sitting there talking to me so seriously. Like one adult to
another. I began to feel kind of bad that I’d acted like such a jerk to someone
she really cared about.
“Oh,
gosh,” she said, resting her cheek against my head. “You know, one day, you’re
gonna grow up and you’re gonna fall in love. Does that mean you’re gonna stop
loving me?”
“No,”
I answered, thinking that it was a pretty stupid question. After all, she was my
mother. No one could take her place. That’s part of the reason I’d been so upset
– I was scared of losing her.
“No?”
she asked again in a teasing voice.
“No,”
I repeated in the same manner.
“Oh,”
she kidded, “then you understand.”
“Yeah.”
At least, I was starting to.
“You
understand that just because you love someone new doesn’t mean you stop loving
the people you already love, does it? Well, that means I still love
you.”
“Yes.”
“And
you know that.”
“Yes.”
“So
you feel better.” She leaned over and gave me a kiss.
“Yes,”
I answered again, and suddenly I really did feel better - for the first time in
a long time.
“I
love you. Now come here,” she ordered, turning me around to face her, “And give
me a hug.”
I
let myself be pulled into the comfort of her arms. Even though I would never
admit it out loud, it felt good to have her hold me, just like she did when I
was a little boy.
“I
really do love you,” she told me again, pulling me even
closer.
“I
love you, too,” I replied, and I realized it was the first time I’d said that to
her since her accident. Maybe deep down I’d been angrier than I’d wanted to
admit; and jealous, too. And worried that my life was changing too fast. It was
a lot to think about.
“All
right. Then everything’s okay.” I felt her give me a gentle pat on the back.
That same little gesture that had always said everything between us was
fine.
“Yes,”
I admitted, feeling like a great weight had suddenly been lifted off my chest. I
could actually breathe again.
“All
right. Then go out there and teach your brother a lesson.” She handed me my
board. “Go ahead – go get ‘em!”
I
smiled and headed off to find Phillip.
Maybe she was right after all.
Maybe things really were okay. My mother did still love me; that hadn’t
changed. So maybe the very least I could do for her was to give Lee a
chance.
*
* *
Things
didn’t quite get back to normal after that, but they did get better. Mom was
almost back at work full-time, Phillip was all caught up in his 8th
grade graduation activities and even that stupid Nancy Crawford seemed to have
lost interest in tormenting me.
And
I had a new hobby - photography. Lee had loaned me a really neat camera after
we’d invited him to the skateboard competition. I took one look through it, and
the whole world suddenly appeared different. It wasn’t an unhappy place any
longer where I didn’t fit in; it was anything I wanted to make it through the
frame of my lens.
Lee
didn’t seem to bother me as much, either. Dad had been kind of busy with work
and his wedding plans, and I started to like having another guy around.
Especially after Lee had admitted he didn’t have a clue how pictures actually
ended up on film. It was comforting to realize that even someone as cool as Lee
Stetson didn’t know everything. I’d probably never have as much in common with
him as I did with Carrie, but I’d finally come to the conclusion that Philip
might just have a point after all. Maybe Lee really was an okay
guy.
Of
course, once I’d made up my mind to try and like him, I started to worry that he
might not be around too long. Most guys didn’t stay. I mean, if my own father
had left us, why on earth would Lee stick around?
And
Mom and Lee suddenly seemed to be fighting a lot. Like they were tonight.
Sometimes I really couldn’t figure them out. This latest argument appeared to
have something to do with work. Or at least that’s what I surmised from my
hiding place at the top of the stairs. Lee seemed worried about some new
documentary Mom was working on without him about. . . bees? That’s what it
sounded like to me, anyway. All I
could hear was ‘I don’t like you working with bee’ and something about a sting
before Mom cut him off. She sounded really steamed, and I almost felt sorry for
Lee. He seemed genuinely worried about her. Then they both said something that I
couldn’t hear, and he left abruptly, slamming the front door behind him. In my
rush to hide again, I almost fell down the stairs. Luckily for me, Lee had been too furious
to notice.
“Don’t
say it, Mother,” came Mom’s equally angry voice. “I’m not in the mood
tonight.”
The
banging door must have startled Grandma, too. She’d been in the dining room, working
on her flight simulation. Nothing short of World War III could usually drag her
away from that screen. She was absolutely determined to get her pilot’s license.
Personally, I just didn’t see it happening in my lifetime.
“I
wasn’t going to say anything at all,” I heard her tell Mom in a prickly voice. I
knew she didn’t mean it.
Grandma always said she had nothing to say just before she gave you an
earful of whatever was on her mind.
This
time was no exception. She lowered her voice, and I couldn’t quite catch what
she was saying, so I scooted down a few steps. All I caught was the last
line.
“. . .And I really don’t understand you,
Missy.”
Mom
was in for it now. When Grandma used that name, she really meant business. I
strained to hear more.
“Or
this little game you’re playing,” Grandma finished
crossly.
“Mother,
I’m not playing any game,” Mom stated, sounding almost as tense as Grandma. “Lee
and I just had an argument. It happens all the time, believe me. No one can drive me crazier than he
can.”
“Uh,
huh.”
“You’re
doing it again, Mother.” She sighed loudly, a signal that she was at the end of
her rope. This was getting pretty interesting. Too bad Phillip had a late
practice tonight. He’d be really mad that he missed this.
“Doing
what?” Grandma inquired and I could almost picture her arms folded across her
chest as she spoke.
“That
little nod of the head always followed by that annoying ‘uh-huh’. You’ve been
doing it ever since I got back from California. If you have something to say to me, I
really wish you’d just come out and say it.”
“Amanda,
you don’t seem to have anything to say to me, so what could I possibly have to
say to you?”
“Mother.
. .”
“I
can see there’s no point in discussing this if you don’t want to
talk.”
“Really,
there’s nothing to talk about.” Mom’s shoes made a clicking noise on the floor,
which meant she’d started to pace. She must be really bothered by this. She
hadn’t done that since last fall when Phillip and I broke the kitchen window. I
listened carefully as she started to speak again in her best ‘this is final’
tone.
“Lee
and I had a disagreement about work. It’s not the first time, and it certainly
won’t be the last. End of story.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Mother,
really, it’s nothing. He just ended up with some unexpected time off, and now
he’s at loose ends. He doesn’t like me to work solo.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Ahhhhg,”
I heard her yell in frustration. “I’m too tired to do this right now. I’m going
to bed. Unlike Lee, I have to be at work early tomorrow.”
Mom
headed in my direction, and I ran upstairs again, scrambling to get out of sight
before she caught me. There was no telling what she’d do if she spotted me
eavesdropping. This spying business
was dangerous.
*
* *
“So,”
Lee said to us as Phillip and I sprawled comfortably on the couch, “would you
guys like to come?”
Mom
was perched on the arm of Lee’s chair. I watched as she rubbed his shoulder
affectionately, last night’s anger apparently forgotten. I was glad that they
seemed to have patched up their argument.
“Four
days in the woods?” my brother repeated, his excitement already showing. “You
even have to ask?”
A
friend had offered Lee the use of his cabin, and he was anxious to get away for
a few days. Taking a vacation in town was driving him crazy, he told us, and if
he stayed here any longer, he’d only end up working anyway. And for some reason, he didn’t want to
go into the office.
“It’s
a matter of principle,” I’d overheard him tell Mom before dinner. “He gave me
two weeks off, and I’ll be damned if I don’t take them. I refuse to give that man the
satisfaction.”
“Yeah,
even if it kills you,” came Mom’s teasing reply.
Lee
cleared his throat as he turned to me expectantly. “So, Jamie,” he said as he
ran his hand through his hair, “what about you?”
“Um,”
I began, chewing on my lip as I thought it over. I certainly wouldn’t mind
missing two days of school; I just kinda wished Mom would be there, too. She’d really wanted to come, but she’d
already missed so much work because of her accident that she couldn’t afford to
take any more time off. Besides, she had a project to finish over the weekend.
Lee didn’t seem too pleased about that, either, but apparently they’d arrived at
this compromise.
“Okay,”
I said, and Mom rewarded me with a relieved smile. I could tell how badly she
wanted all of us to spend time together. If she was actually willing to let us
skip school to accomplish that, then who was I to argue? Besides, there’d be no
living with Phillip if I said no.
We
set out together on Friday morning. The cabin was in the Shenandoah Valley, not
too far away, but the drive seemed much longer than usual because we were
trapped in the car with Phillip. He spent most of the trip whining about Nancy
Crawford. She’d dumped him a few days ago for a high school sophomore, and he’d
been mooning around ever since. I felt bad for my brother, but it was hardly the
tragedy he was making it out to be. I figured his ego was probably suffering
more than his heart.
Lee
seemed to agree, and he good-naturedly told Phillip he was much too young to
settle for just one girl.
“Yeah,
you’re right about that,” Phillip moaned. “From now on, I’m playing the field.
And they can all forget about sharing my stuff. I let Nancy borrow my new
skateboard, and now she refuses to give it back. She said it was a gift and she
should be able to keep it. Girls suck.”
“Not
all of them,” Lee laughed. “But as a general rule, Chief, it’s a good idea not
to loan out your stuff unless you’re pretty sure the relationship is a permanent
thing.” He was having a pretty hard time trying to hide his grin as he
added, “I admit that’s a lesson I
learned the hard way myself.”
“Yeah,”
Phillip commiserated, “Me, too. I really liked that
skateboard.”
“You
loaned Mom your ‘Vette this weekend,” I said in a quiet
voice.
“Well,”
Lee said, clearing his throat nervously, “it would have been a pretty tight fit
in the Corvette – the three of us and all our stuff.”
“I
guess so,” I agreed, but I had a feeling there was more significance to that
gesture than he was willing to acknowledge. Mom and Lee seemed to swap cars a
lot lately; it didn’t seem to have anything to do with any
trip.
“I
think this is our turnoff,” Lee stated, effectively changing the subject before
I could press it further. It was
kind of funny to see him so flustered. This was turning into a pretty
interesting weekend after all.
It
was certainly more fun than I’d originally imagined. The cabin itself was really
nice, with two bedrooms, a small kitchen and a screened porch on the back. Lee said it belonged to a friend who
spent a lot of time out of the country. He’d offered to let him use it last
fall, but he hadn’t been able to take him up on it. There were some great hiking
trails and plenty of neat stuff to photograph. I’d brought along four rolls of
film, and by the end of the first day, I’d shot almost all of them. Lee said
that at the rate I was going, we’d have to make a run into town for more film
tomorrow.
We
didn’t, though, because it rained most of our second day and we were stuck
inside. When we got tired of
playing the usual board games, Lee offered to teach us poker. He’d learned
himself when he was younger than we were, he told us, from an old corporal on an
air base in northern Michigan where his uncle had been stationed. All the kids
there used to play. It sounded
exciting to me, but Lee denied it.
“It
was only a way to pass the time,” he told us, smiling as he dealt another hand.
“There just wasn’t much else to do there during the winter. The base was in a
very small town, and they rolled the sidewalks up every night at
8:00.”
That
might have been the case, but I really liked the game. For the first time, I was
actually better at something than my older brother. “This is really fun,” I said,
enthusiastically cleaning out the remainder of Phillip’s matches. Lee had
refused to let us play for real money.
“Sometimes it’s more fun that way,” he joked when I grumbled about how rich I could have been. “I can remember one night in particular when the stakes got pretty interesting. My buddy and I had conned some Colonel’s daughter into playing with us and. . .” He laughed suddenly, then qui