A Girl's Guide to Moving On (31 page)

His words shook me and I swallowed hard while I processed the emotions racing through me. Nikolai was right. I did love Sean. The shock of it hit me. I assumed all I'd felt was sympathy, compassion, but it was more. I still cared for Sean, despite the fact that we were divorced. He continued to hold a place in my heart. “We were married…” Sitting in the funeral director's office, I'd been overwhelmed by the sense of loss, knowing the man I had divorced would soon be gone from this world.

“This different,” Nikolai said. “You tell me one time you love memory. You love the man from when you first married, but that love dried up and died. What was left not like young love. It something else.”

I remembered well the conversation. “You loved Magdalena.”

“She loved me. This man, he not love you. He use you. He treat you like tissue. He blow his nose on you and then throw you away.”

“You're wrong, Nikolai,” I argued. “This is different. Sean is different.” I remembered the way my ex-husband had clenched my hand earlier, as if holding on to me was all that kept him going.

“No,” Nikolai said loudly, startling me. “No, he not different. The one who is different is you.”

I sagged onto the sofa and covered my face with my hands. A chill went down my back. In that moment I knew Nikolai was right. All those years I'd craved my husband's love, needed it, and now he was dying and desperately needed me. I couldn't say for sure if Sean had changed, but I knew I had. No matter how hard this would be and regardless of my feelings for Nikolai, helping Sean was something I had to do. For Sean, certainly, but also for myself.

“What you say?” Nikolai demanded. “Tell me what you say?”

I shook my head. I had nothing to tell him.

“That is what I think,” he whispered. “I not fight dying man. I not win. I leave you now. I not bake bread for you again.”

I wanted to call out and stop him, but I knew he was right. The door clicked gently and all I seemed capable of doing was staring at it. Nikolai had left me. He was gone, and instinctively I knew he wasn't coming back.

I barely slept or ate all weekend. Sean called me twice, needing my help, and despite everything I went to him, cooked and cleaned for him. He was grateful to the point of tears. I couldn't abandon him.

Monday night when I arrived for class Nikolai wasn't in the parking lot waiting for me. Once inside I was handed a notice that told me Nikolai Janchenko had withdrawn from the class.

Teaching classes was torture for me. It didn't help that the kids' heads were wrapped around Christmas and the upcoming winter break. I somehow made it from day to day for the next two weeks. Every class taxed me to the limit. All I wanted to do was curl into a tight ball and hibernate, but that was impossible.

If Jake had been looking for a way to punish me for having the gall to divorce him, then he'd found the perfect torture. To my dying day I would always remember the look of pain that flashed ever so briefly in Rocco's eyes before he closed himself off from me. Rocco had been nothing but wonderful to me and I missed him.

Owen asked daily when he would see Rocco and Kaylene again. I put him off until he had a crying fit. After the first week I'd been forced to tell my son that we probably wouldn't be able to see Rocco again. It was then that I felt the first cloud of emotion break through my fog of pain and loss.

Friday afternoon I caught sight of Kaylene in the hallway. Students were moving up and down the crowded aisle, rushing between classes. I froze and she did, too. Her eyes held mine prisoner and then narrowed. The two of us had always had a great relationship. My heart immediately filled with questions. I wanted to know how Rocco was. Knowing I'd hurt him was a constant pain I carried with me. I was hurting, too, far more than I ever thought I would.

Kaylene's gaze speared me with what could be described only as hate before she whirled around and marched off in the opposite direction. For the rest of the day I couldn't get her look out of my head. After school I sat in my classroom and propped my elbows on my desk. I needed help. I couldn't do this any longer. I couldn't face another day of this.

I had no options; my back was to the wall. Jake had threatened to challenge me for custody of my son. Deep down I knew he didn't want Owen with him. Having to care for a three-year-old would put a damper on his lifestyle. What he wanted was to hurt me and hurt Rocco, and he'd succeeded, and I'd let him do this to us.

To this point I hadn't talked to anyone about this except Leanne. She'd been furious with Jake and promised to talk to him. It hadn't happened. Sean seemed to be slipping downhill a little each day and she'd spent a lot of time with him. Besides, she was dealing with her own heartache. I wasn't sure what had happened between her and Nikolai, but I knew they were no longer seeing each other.

Owen was going with his father for the weekend and Jake picked him up at the daycare center. I preferred it that way, and I knew he did, too. I hadn't been sleeping well and was grateful on Saturday that I was scheduled to work at Dress for Success. It gave me something to do rather than remain at home and stew. Our Christmas tree wasn't up yet, nor any of the decorations. I wasn't in the Christmas spirit.

I hadn't been in the shop more than a half-hour when Shawntelle came bursting in the door, opening it so hard it was a wonder the glass didn't shatter. She stood just inside the store, hands on her ample hips, searching the area until she saw me.

This woman was a force to be reckoned with when she was angry. Seeing her now was downright scary. She pointed her index finger at me and shouted, “You and me, sister, are going to have a come-to-Jesus talk.”

A couple women had stopped in to do some Christmas shopping. They took one look at Shawntelle and headed for the door as if their lives were in danger. As for me, I was rooted in one spot, unable to move. Shawntelle didn't need to explain why she wanted to talk to me. I already knew.

She marched over to me as if she was related to Attila the Hun. “You better have a damn good reason for what you did to Rocco,” she demanded.

I took one look at her and tried to smile. “How is he?” I asked, desperate for news of Rocco.

“How do you expect? That man is hurting. No one's ever seen him like this. He nearly destroyed the garage, tossing around every tool he could find; he punched his fist through the wall, and now he's in such a bear of a mood no one dares talk to him.”

I closed my eyes, afraid if I murmured a single word I wouldn't be able to hold back the tears.

“What's with you, girl? You got yourself a good man and then you treat him like this?” Her eyes were full of disgust. “You're not half the woman I thought you were.”

She was right and I knew it.

“Jerome sat Rocco down with a six-pack and you know what Rocco said? He said he always wanted to know what loving a woman's heart and soul felt like. Now he knows and all he can say is it's a bitch.”

I covered my mouth with my hand. It felt as if my legs were about to fold on me. Reaching out, I grabbed hold of a display rack for fear I was about to crumble to the floor.

“What kind of woman are you?” Shawntelle spat. “Why would you do that to a man for no good reason?”

“For my son,” I whispered.

“You're not making any sense. Don't matter, 'cause you ain't no friend of mine. Not anymore. I thought you were different. Rocco did, too, but you proved to us both exactly the kind of person you are. I don't want anything more to do with you.” Having said her piece, she stalked out of the shop with her head in the air, as if an entire marching band was directly behind her.

For several seconds there was dead silence in the shop. It took that long for me to breathe again.

Once home, I reached for my cell and stared at it for a long time. I needed someone to talk to, someone who would help me see my way through this emotional minefield. My sister Cassie had been through much worse, and while I hated to burden her with my troubles, I was fast growing desperate.

We connected right away. “Hey, Nichole. How's it going?” she asked, cheerful and happy, and she had every right to be.

“Okay. Just checking in on the newlyweds. How's married life?” I did my best to sound upbeat.

“We're loving it. Steve and I are spending the day getting my house ready to put up for sale.”

“Great.”

“How's Owen?”

“Good.” I swallowed tightly.

“Rocco?”

I heard a slight hesitation in her voice, as if she'd caught on to the fact that there was something amiss with me. It was then that I lost it. The tears seemed to burst out of me in a storm of emotion and I blurted out the whole dreadful story, starting with Jake's and my meeting at Starbucks and ending up with Shawntelle's visit that morning.

“Nichole, Nichole,” Cassie said, stopping me. “I can't understand you when you're crying so hard.”

“What part didn't you get?” I asked between sobs.

“Okay, let me see if I've got this straight. You are no longer seeing Rocco because Jake threatened to take you to court for custody of Owen?”

“Yes,” I answered, with a hiccupping sob.

“And Shawn hates you?”

“Shawntelle…she works for Rocco and is my friend. Or used to be. Now she hates me, too, and I don't blame her.” At this point I didn't feel like I had a friend left in the world.

“And you're sobbing your heart out because you love Rocco?”

“Yes. And I hurt him so badly.”

Cassie released a deep sigh. “You called me because you're miserable and you don't know what to do?”

“I didn't know who else to talk to,” I said, doing my best to stop crying.

Cassie muttered something under her breath that I wasn't able to make out. Then she started into a tirade that lasted a good ten minutes. “Are you telling me that you're going to let Jake manipulate you like this? Come on, Nichole, you're a better woman than that. You've been strong and fearless to this point—”

“But this is my son,” I cried, cutting her off.

“He's bluffing. You know Jake. Do you honestly think he's serious? And so what if he is? No judge in his right mind would give Owen to his father when the boy clearly is better off with his mother.”

“Yes, but—”

“What is wrong with you, little sister? Come on, girl, show a little backbone.”

Me?
I didn't get it.

“Don't you dare let Jake make this kind of demand,” she continued. “That weasel has no more interest in getting custody of Owen than some stranger off the street. He knows you love Rocco and he has a convenient excuse to make both of your lives miserable. And fool that you are, you let him.”

“But I can't risk losing my son, and he knows I can't afford to pay for an attorney to fight him,” I wailed.

“Of course you can't. But he can't, either, so call his crazy bluff.”

“Call his bluff,” I said, sobbing.

“You heard me. Just do it. He'll back down so fast your head will be left spinning.”

I wondered if that could possibly be true. So much was at stake I feared what would happen if I did challenge Jake.

“You hear me?” Cassie said.

“Yes, only—”

“Only nothing. You stand up to Jake.”

“Okay.” I was willing to do just about anything to make this pain in my heart go away.

“Now that we've got that settled, let's get back to Rocco.”

“Please.” I knew he was angry with me, and getting him to trust me again wouldn't be easy.

“Steve and Rocco hit it off. Those two bonded so fast you'd think they were brothers. Rocco told Steve he'd never loved a woman until he'd met you and that you'd turned his world around. He's crazy about you and I swear if you don't find a way to make things right between you two Steve might not ever be able to forgive you.”

“What do I do?” I pleaded.

“First off, apologize and then explain. If you'd told him the truth up front, you could have avoided all this. Don't be a schmuck, Nichole. You're smarter than this.”

“What if Rocco won't have anything to do with me?” And, frankly, I wouldn't blame him if he turned his back on me, which I suspected he would.

“Be patient. He loves you. Keep remembering that, no matter how stubborn he is.”

“I will,” I promised. Already I felt worlds better.

“You finished crying your eyes out?” Cassie asked.

“Yes,” I said, smiling for the first time in nearly two weeks.

“Then go out there, little sister, and kick some butt.”

I laughed softly. “Thank you, Cassie.”

“Hey, what are sisters for, anyway? Love you, Nichole.”

“Love you.”

We disconnected and I immediately contacted Jake.

He answered, short-tempered and waspish. “What?” he demanded, as if it'd been a real inconvenience to hear my voice.

“I have two words for you, Jake. Just two words.
Lawyer up
.” With that, I ended the call. Dear, sweet heaven that felt good. I pumped my fist in the air, grabbed my coat, and headed out the door.

It went without saying that if I were to call Rocco he wouldn't answer. I needed to be smart about this, so I called Kaylene. I needed to find Rocco. I sat in my car and punched out her number.

Her attitude wasn't any better than Jake's when she answered. “What do you want?”

“Where's your father?”

“What makes you think I'd tell you? You're the last person he wants to see.”

I knew she was right. “Because I love him.”

“Not funny.”

“Kaylene, please, I need to talk to your dad. Is he at the house or is he working?”

She hesitated, as if unsure what to tell me. “You hurt him. He loved you.”

“I know and I'm sorry.”

“It's too late. He doesn't want to see you.”

“I know.” God willing, I hoped to change his mind.

“He broke a bunch of stuff because of you.”

Shawntelle had already told me he'd gone on a rampage. “I'll do everything within my power to make it up to you both.”

Kaylene remained uncertain; I could hear it in her voice. “My dad really cared about you.”

“Please,” I whispered, closing my eyes and hoping with everything in me that she would help me.