Midnight Promises, page 22
Karen thought of what Frances had told her about Helen’s mother having a new boyfriend and Helen’s likely reaction to it.
“Can you tell me something I’ve been wondering about?” she asked Dana Sue. “How’d Helen turn out to be so different from Flo? It seems Flo pretty much goes with the flow, so to speak, while Helen is...” She searched for the right word.
“An uptight control freak?” Dana Sue provided with a grin. “She is by comparison to Flo, that’s for sure, but Helen has her moments when she loosens up. That’s part of what makes margarita nights so much fun. We get to see her lose her inhibitions.”
Karen couldn’t honestly imagine Helen ever loosening up that much. Then, again, she’d only been to one margarita night so far, and she’d had to cut out early. Maybe tomorrow night would be a revelation.
* * *
Karen was the first to arrive at Maddie’s. At Dana Sue’s recommendation, she’d come with a tray of buffalo chicken wings and blue-cheese dip that she’d had time to prepare before leaving Sullivan’s. Erik had put them on the menu as tonight’s appetizer special, so she’d doubled the usual recipe and brought the extras along with her boss’s permission.
She found Maddie looking surprisingly distracted, worry creasing her brow. Since Maddie was usually so in control of things, even with two toddlers and a teenager still at home, it was a shock to find her looking so out of sorts.
“Is everything okay?” Karen asked hesitantly, still not entirely comfortable in the role of friend, rather than just the wife of someone who worked with Maddie. “Is there anything I can do to help you get ready?”
Maddie immediately forced a smile. “Don’t mind me. I just had a thoroughly exasperating conversation with Katie. Before I could get to the bottom of something, she flounced off and went to her room. Living with a teenager means living in the middle of a never-ending mood swing. I don’t remember Ty or Kyle being nearly this impossible, though. Maybe it’s just teenage girls.”
Karen winced. “Gee, I can hardly wait. You make it sound like so much fun.”
Maddie’s expression turned rueful. “Sorry. It does have its moments of pure joy, too. I can vaguely remember a few of them.”
“Do you need to deal with Katie now? I can answer the door when the others get here,” Karen offered.
“Believe me, by now she has her earphones on and her music turned up. I won’t get through to her till she calms down.”
“Not that it’s any of my business,” Karen began, “but is there a problem at school?”
“I think so,” Maddie said. “But she won’t admit to that. She won’t say if she’s upset about a boy. Bottom line, she doesn’t want to talk to me at all. With any luck, Cal will be able to shed some light. Working as a P.E. teacher and the high school baseball coach, he not only understands teenagers better than I do, but he’s tapped into the school grapevine.” She smiled at Karen. “Enough of that. Let’s get these buffalo wings on a plate. They smell fabulous. A new addition to the Sullivan’s menu?”
Karen nodded. “Erik persuaded Dana Sue that chicken, in all its forms, is a Southern dish. It doesn’t always have to be fried to qualify.”
Maddie chuckled. “I’d love to have been there for that discussion. Dana Sue is very protective of the integrity of her Southern cuisine menu.”
Within the next few minutes, as Karen arranged food on plates and Maddie carried them into the living room, the rest of the women arrived. Helen immediately went to work making frozen margaritas, handing them out as each batch was completed.
As soon as everyone was settled, the usual gossip started flowing, but Maddie clapped her hands. “Okay, ladies, no time for that. We’re on a mission. We have to name this gym. Gossip to follow.”
Suggestions poured out, from the fairly obvious, The Boys’ Club—to one they all concluded was vaguely pornographic-sounding—The Blue Room.
“To say nothing of the fact that it’s been painted sage green,” Maddie said, shaking her head at the suggestion.
“Ooh, I love sage green,” Jeanette said, immediately distracted. “It’s so soothing. I wanted to paint the guest room that color, but somehow it wound up being dark blue, of all things. Tom painted it before I could stop him.”
“Well, you can thank me for the green,” Maddie said. “If they’d had their way, the entire place would have been industrial gray.”
“Maybe we need to be more systematic about this,” Karen said hesitantly. “You know, decide on one word first, like gym. Is that going to be part of the name for clarity’s sake? Or fitness something?”
“Great idea,” Maddie enthused. “What do you think of when you hear gym?”
“Sweaty clothes and Dexter’s,” Helen said, wrinkling her nose.
“Bad connotations,” Maddie concluded. “Are we agreed about that?”
Everyone nodded.
“Then is fitness the right alternative?” Maddie asked. “Or some variation?”
“How about Fit for Life?” Raylene suggested, testing it out slowly.
Sarah’s eyes lit up. “I like it. It sounds healthy and not too girly. It has a proactive ring to it.”
“I don’t know,” Dana Sue said skeptically. “I’ll bet there’s already some chain of gyms with that name. We’d need to check, but I think we’re on the right track. Any other spins on that?”
“I have one,” Karen said. “What about Fit for Anything?”
“Ooh, I really like that,” Annie said. “It sounds young and hip.”
Maddie looked around the room, a grin on her face. “Does it need anything tacked on? Club? Gym?”
“Nope. I think it works all on its own,” Helen said. “A show of hands? All in favor?”
As every hand shot into the air, Karen grinned, pleased to have her suggestion approved. For the first time, she felt a tiny sense of ownership in the whole gym proposal.
“That’s it, then,” Helen said. Turning to Maddie, she handed over the cell phone that was never far from reach.
“Call Cal,” she instructed. “Run it by the guys. I think they’re all at Rosalina’s having pizza with the kids. Some kind of misery-loves-company thing or babysitting co-op.” She grinned. “Somehow Erik persuaded Ronnie to take Sara Beth with him, since Erik’s stuck at Sullivan’s till closing and I, of course, was needed here.”
Maddie was on the phone for several minutes, while they waited. Her grin spread as she finally hung up.
“We have ourselves a name. The guys wholeheartedly approve.”
“Great,” Helen said briskly. “Now we can get to the serious stuff. Who has good gossip?”
“Grace Wharton,” Sarah commented wryly. “But she’s not here.”
Raylene nudged Sarah in the ribs. “But she tells you everything. Spill.”
Karen had little to offer herself, but sitting back and listening, she couldn’t help being amazed at how tapped in these women were. More fascinating, though, despite their salacious interest in the latest town news, there was an underlying note of concern for anyone who seemed to be going through a tough time. She didn’t detect a single mean-spirited word, which told her a lot about their character.
They’d been chatting for the better part of an hour when Sarah turned to her. “There is something else I heard this week,” she said, keeping her worried gaze on Karen. “Someone told me Frances might have Alzheimer’s.”
Helen nodded. “My mother mentioned something about that, too. She’s worried sick about her.”
Sarah kept her gaze on Karen. “I know the two of you are close. Is she okay? Are you holding up okay?”
To her dismay, Karen felt her eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t really know. The doctor’s sending her to see a specialist. Please don’t say too much around town. I know that’s like trying to stuff something back in a box after it’s been taken out and assembled, but Frances is such a proud woman. She doesn’t want people pitying her.”
“We just want to help,” Sarah protested. “She’s always been there for everyone else.”
“Nobody knows that better than I do,” Karen said.
“I think we need to let Frances guide us,” Helen said. “Once she knows what’s going on, if she wants help, she’ll ask for it. And my mom and Liz are going to be right there, too.”
Karen nodded. “I know Frances will appreciate the fact that you’re all so concerned, though. I’ll definitely let her know. I think she forgets sometimes how many lives in this town she’s touched.”
Helen’s attention remained focused on her. “What about you, though?” she inquired quietly after the others had moved on to different topics. “I know how much she means to you. You couldn’t have had a more caring neighbor when your life was in turmoil.”
“She was way more than a neighbor,” Karen said. “If it hadn’t been for her and you back then, I really don’t know what I would have done.”
Helen nodded, not bothering to deny her own role in keeping Karen’s world from spinning out of control. “Exactly,” she said. “That’s why I’m asking if you’re okay.”
“To be honest, I’m scared to death,” Karen said. “You know what a lifeline she’s been for me. The thought that she’s in failing health has really shaken me.” She sat up a little straighter and drew on some reserve of strength she hadn’t been aware she possessed. “I guess it’s my turn to return the favor.”
“And we’re here for backup anytime you need it,” Helen promised. “Remember that. Alzheimer’s is not an easy thing to face, not for the person who might have it, not for their friends or caregivers.”
“I feel as if I’ve spent most of my adult life needing backup,” Karen said. “Frances, you, even Elliott.”
“That’s what friends and family are for,” Helen said. “Don’t ever forget that. You’ll have your chance to be there for one of us. It’s the way life works.”
“I guess it still comes as such a huge surprise,” Karen admitted. “For so many years I felt not only terribly alone, but incapable of helping myself, much less anyone else.”
Helen reached for her hand. “And now you’re strong.”
Karen smiled. “And now I’m strong,” she echoed, savoring the knowledge.
* * *
Elliott had managed to carve out an hour or two the past few Saturdays to go with Mack to football practice. It hadn’t been easy, but he knew if he wasn’t on the scene and anything happened, he’d never hear the end of it. Karen continued to be unhappy about the fact that he’d signed Mack up. Though she was resigned to letting him play, she still refused to come to the games.
“You know I’ll be one of those moms who runs onto the field and tries to dry his tears or kiss his boo-boos. I’ll embarrass Mack to death,” she’d explained stubbornly.
Though Elliott hadn’t entirely bought her reason, he’d let it go.
Under coaching from Ronnie, Cal and Travis, the kids Mack’s age were learning the fundamentals, but the rules were in a constant state of flux, and it was never entirely certain if the players would remember which goal line they were supposed to run toward.
Though the men stringently enforced that it was touch football, there were inevitably a few misplaced tackles that left cuts and bruises. Thankfully, so far Mack hadn’t been among the victims.
Today, however, it seemed Elliott’s good luck had just run out. He spotted a kid who was ten pounds heavier than Mack and several inches taller heading straight for Mack as he ran toward the goal line clutching the football. When a touch would have stopped the run, the kid aimed directly for Mack’s stomach instead, knocking the breath out of him as they both tumbled to the ground.
Elliott was already on the field as Mack staggered to his feet. Expecting tears, he was stunned to see Mack take a swing at the offending player, catching him squarely in the jaw. It wasn’t as if he had much force behind the punch, but it definitely must have stung. The kid started screaming as if he’d been mortally wounded.
“You’re not supposed to tackle,” Mack shouted at him as the other dad arrived just in time to witness the punch.
“You hit me!” the kid screamed, turning toward his father, who looked apoplectic.
“That boy needs to be thrown off the team,” the father shouted at Ronnie, who’d left the other kids under Cal’s care and was headed down the field to join them.
“Hold on,” Elliott said to the father. “It was your kid who tackled him. My boy was just defending himself.”
Ronnie arrived just then and tried to calm things down. “Okay, both boys were out of line,” he said firmly. “They’re suspended for the rest of the game.”
“But that’s not fair,” Mack protested.
Elliott was inclined to agree, but he couldn’t very well condone the punch Mack had thrown, either. Nor was he about to question Ronnie’s authority.
“You know the rules,” Elliott said quietly to Mack, a hand on his shoulder.
“You need to teach your kid sportsmanship,” the other man said, still glowering.
Elliott had to rein in his temper. Fortunately Ronnie stepped in.
“You need to do the same, Dwight. This whole incident started because your son tackled Mack. It’s not the first time he’s deliberately tackled another player, either. Once more and he’s out. Period.”
“We’ll make it easy, then,” the man said defiantly. “I’ll yank him now. This game is just for a bunch of sissies.”
Elliott stared at him incredulously. “They’re seven years old.” He realized then that there was no point in engaging the man. He was clearly irrational.
But as he and Mack started to walk away, the man stepped in front of him, clearly not ready to concede the battle.
“I’m a little surprised at you, backing down the way you just did,” he said snidely. “I thought all you Latino guys think you’re hot stuff.”
Evidence of prejudice of any kind in Serenity was rare, but it did happen. Elliott wanted to level the man on the spot, but the tiny part of his brain that wasn’t engulfed in a red haze of fury held him back. He had to set an example for Mack. He could not allow this argument with an idiot to escalate.
“You don’t want to go there,” he said quietly.
“Actually I do,” the man said belligerently. “You sneak over the border, live here illegally, steal jobs from honest Americans and then think you can teach your kids to bully other kids.” He glanced at Mack. “Is he even your kid? Bet you didn’t know your wife or girlfriend or whatever was stepping out on you, did you?”
Elliott had had enough. He was about to pop the guy in the jaw when Ronnie stepped squarely between them. “Dwight, go home,” he said in a firm undertone. “It’s not even nine in the morning and you’re obviously drunk. You’re embarrassing yourself and your son. Go home.”
After an instant’s hesitation, Dwight muttered an expletive, then turned and walked away, his kid trotting along behind him, still wailing and rubbing his jaw.
Ronnie shook his head as Dwight left, then turned to Elliott. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Elliott said. “I could have defused the situation much sooner by walking away.”
“It’s hard to walk away from someone who’s spoiling for a fight and will say or do anything to get what they want. Dwight’s been out of work for a year now. It doesn’t excuse anything he said or did, but it might give you some perspective.”
Elliott nodded. “Thanks for telling me that. I’d like to say it makes what happened less personal, but it doesn’t.”
Ronnie gave his shoulder a squeeze, then went back to the game. Elliott forced a smile for Mack, who looked shaken by the whole incident.
“I think we need ice cream, buddy. What do you think?”
“Ice cream is good,” Mack said, grinning. “Can I have a banana split?”
Elliott chuckled, knowing his eyes were considerably bigger than his stomach. “How about we share one?”
“Yay!” Mack said eagerly.
But even though the morning ended on a better note, Elliott couldn’t shake Dwight’s words. It wasn’t so much the ethnic slurs that bothered him. He’d been born and raised right here in Serenity, after all. It was the slam that Mack wasn’t his. It was just one more incident to remind him that he had only the loosest possible claim to the child he thought of as his son.
* * *
Karen had heard about the incident at the ball field by midmorning, but it was her night to work late at Sullivan’s, so it was after eleven when she finally got home. Elliott was already in bed. He’d left a light on in the living room for her and a night-light glowing in the hallway for the kids.
After a quick peek to make sure Daisy and Mack were asleep, and a good-night kiss for each of them, she showered to rid herself of the scents that clung after a day in the restaurant kitchen. She pulled on one of Elliott’s T-shirts, then crawled into bed beside him, hoping not to disturb his sleep.
He rolled over, though, and reached for her.
“I thought I heard you come in,” he murmured sleepily, nuzzling her neck.
“Sorry. I was trying not to wake you.”
In the faint light of the moon, she could see the smile on his lips.
“You can wake me anytime, querida.”
She knew that things could go any one of several ways now. With the right signal, they could be making love. With a question or two, they could be having one of the late-night talks that brought them each up to date on their days. Or she could kiss his cheek, murmur, “Good night,” and Elliott would fall straight back into a sound sleep.
Though she was exhausted, the first option held plenty of allure, but before she could run a hand over his bare hip or along his solid abs, he pulled himself into a sitting position with pillows at his back.
“We should talk about something that happened today,” he told her.
