Family Interrupted (20 page)

#

I showed up at work smiling. I ate lunch with an appetite. Jack noticed. Mom noticed.

“You’ve got something up your sleeve,” said Mom before biting into her sandwich. Her eyes shone, the corners crinkled. “Whatever it is, I love it!”

Hopefully, she’d love the picture when she saw it at the party.

On Tuesday, I whistled as I entered the hospital and made my way to Pediatrics. After seven months, the staff counted on me showing up with my overflowing tote bag and ideas for the kids. Today we’d work in the lounge where tables and easels were available. I’d brought a pumpkin and a witch’s hat to set the mood for Halloween, but the children might have other ideas entirely. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they had a chance to enjoy themselves just like anyone else.

Within five minutes of arriving in the unit, I knew something was wrong. The nurses’ smiles were forced as they greeted me, and a short time later, Rose Taylor showed up in the lounge. I was setting up a finger-painting area for the younger kids or anyone who wanted to jump in but stepped away when Rose motioned me over.

“Come see me before you leave,” she said.

My stomach tightened. Bad news was etched all over her. “What happened? Who?” I asked the questions but wanted to hide from the answers.

Rose nodded at the children waiting to make art. “You’ve got to pay attention to them right now. Talk to you later.”

To my amazement, the hour flew by. The little ones needed constant help, and a handful of parents assisted. So maybe Jack was half right. Time went quickly when you stayed busy. But I thought “busy” wasn’t enough. You had to be doing something you liked, something meaningful.

None of my regulars showed up. I hoped they were home and healthy this week.

Rose was waiting for me at the nurses’ station. I followed her into a private office.

“There’s no way to break it gently, Claire, so I’ll just say it. We lost Neil Schulman yesterday. His kidneys just gave out before a good match could be found for transplant.”

“Neil! Oh, poor boy.” I blinked hard, but not hard enough.

“I know he was special to you.”

“Every child is special, Rose.” And that was the problem. Neil was my cartoon-drawing young artist. “How awful not to find a match.”

“Yeah. A parent can often be a donor, but Neil was adopted. The family genetics were random and didn’t work out.”

It made sense. “After I first meet the kids, I never think about them dying,” I whispered. “They get such great care, and everyone is always so positive. Maybe I believe there’s magic here.” Or maybe I was in denial.

“I wish it were easier. We have to be upbeat or we wouldn’t survive. Sometimes, however, our humor can verge on the macabre. But it gets us through.”

“Neil was a fighter,” I said. “His poor parents...” I flashed back to the weeks after Kayla died. How Jack and I had died too. Zombies. Without warning, I doubled over, arms wrapped around myself, a familiar pain piercing my stomach. Would Megan be next? Cystic Fibrosis wasn’t curable.

I’d been delusional, pretending to be strong and making art with the children as I’d done with Kayla. Sure, I was trying to provide some happiness for the patients and an hour of diversion. But what was the true reason I’d taken this challenge on? To show Kayla I was...was...what? A good mommy after all? To earn her forgiveness?

I couldn’t continue to fool myself. Despite the fabulous staff and medical miracles, every chronically ill youngster would not go on indefinitely when the shadow of death lingered. Jack and Anne had been right. I’d taken on more than I could handle.

I grasped Rose’s hand. “I might need some time off.”

“You’ve made a difference, Claire. Don’t forget that. And isn’t that the goal? To help the living?”

“My husband agrees with you. But I think about my daughter all the time.”

She patted my arm and leaned toward me. “One day you won’t. She’ll be nestled somewhere else inside you, and you’ll move on. You’re just not there yet. But with a little more time, you will be.”

Maybe. Maybe not. I didn’t respond, but Rose didn’t seem to expect me to. She reached for an envelope instead.

“These are some of Neil’s drawings that hung on the walls around here. I think you should have them. A remembrance of the good work you’ve done.”

“He hardly needed me. I just gave him a few pointers.”

“Well, you must have made an impression. He talked about you all the time. ‘Miss Claire is a real artist,’ he’d say.”

A real artist.

“Sounds like a professor I once knew—in another lifetime.” I took the envelope, promised to return to the unit at some point, and went home. I’d give the pictures to Neil’s family. I had Kayla’s, and his work belonged to his parents.

CLAIRE

Saturday night

A cheerful place, Casa Olé was dressed in funky, garish décor. Red, yellow, and green plastic chili peppers were strung everywhere, and exotic orange and blue murals covered the walls. Not my usual taste but great for a party. I’d even asked for a large parrot piñata to hang from the ceiling because a celebration should have games to keep it lively—not that the margaritas couldn’t do it by themselves. The aromas wafting across the room promised a fine meal, but I knew I’d barely nibble. My mind was on the main event—Kayla’s portrait.

Guests had started to arrive, and I noticed Jack standing near the door, handsome and trim. Forty-eight looked good on him. I watched him shake hands, smile, do a little back slapping. I recognized the gestures and knew he’d say all the right words. A successful businessman had to be good with words. And tonight, Jack seemed happy, happy enough to be in his Cracker Jack frame of mind. His good humor gave me hope that all would go as planned, and I felt a smile emerge and morph into a wide grin.

Maybe we were still perfectly matched. Maybe we would come out of this crisis. I thought
Girl Exalted
would not only help but would be the key to a new beginning. Of course, Jack had thought the same about passing the first anniversary of Kayla’s death. Did anyone have the right answers?

Approaching me at a fast clip, Jack said, “Love that smile. Keep it up.” He kissed me on the mouth before walking to another table of friends. Then the restaurant door opened, and it was my turn to greet the visitors. Judy and Charles entered.

“I’m glad you came,” I said.

“We’re still sisters. And always will be. Besides, a twenty-fifth is something to celebrate. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

I kissed her and Charles, pushing away all thoughts of Sarah Levine. The woman had nothing to do with tonight, or with my expectations of renewal.

Judy spotted our folks, and I followed her to their table.

“Claire, honey,” said my dad. “I want to know where my grandson is. Haven’t seen him in too long.”

And suddenly six pairs of eyes rested on me, waiting for a response. Oh, God. I couldn’t remember what Ian had told me. Was I supposed to call him back? Had I remembered to call him at all? My good spirits vanished.

“I’ll ask Jack,” I said, pointing at the man two tables away.

Moments later, I reached for his hand but addressed his companions. “Mind if I borrow him for a moment?”

“Do you still want him after twenty-five years?” That voice came from my cousin, Marilyn, always a gentle teaser. “Go, go, mingle,” she said with a quick gesture of her hands.

I dragged Jack outside. “Ian. Did you speak with Ian? I can’t remember if I did, if I called him.” My last words hit high notes that startled me.

“Sure, I spoke with him, but you know how he’s been with us lately.”

Us? I’d thought it was just with me. “What do you mean?”

“For God’s sake, Claire. Wake up. He’s drawn a sharp line in the sand concerning us. He didn’t promise to come.” He started pacing. “I don’t know what he’s up to any more than you do. Maybe if you’d speak with him more regularly, pay him some more attention...?”

I tuned him out and scanned the street in both directions. Nothing. “Call him now, Jack, on your cell. He might be on his way.”

Cars doors slammed, and I went to greet our latest guests, leaving Jack to his assignment.

#

JACK

“Sorry, Dad. I thought I told you I’d be tied up tonight. But give my love to the grands...and to Mom.”

“I don’t remember that.” But I wasn’t surprised. Simply disappointed. “Your grandparents feel abandoned. This is important, Ian. Can’t you postpone whatever you’re doing?” Fat chance. My good-looking kid was probably with a girl, probably anticipating a roll in the hay, and nothing was more important at nineteen than getting laid. “Look, if you’ve got a date, just bring her along. There’s plenty of food and beer.”

“I’m really sorry, Dad. I can’t get away tonight. Can you just tell the folks I’m working overtime and the money’s good? The plant operates around the clock. Tell them and they’ll understand.”

But I didn’t. The plant, the plant, the plant. Had Ian’s job become the most important part of his life? A pipefitter instead of a college student? I wanted him at the university with his friends. I wanted him learning the business and finance end from the get-go, not like me who attended night school while working full-time in the trades, struggling with the debit and credit side later. If Ian studied finance, he could talk to bankers in their own language as soon as he took over the business.

Instead of college or Barnes Construction, he’d chosen the refinery. It wasn’t about the money. His disappearance from the family stemmed back to the accident. Was he really working overtime tonight, or was he simply continuing to avoid us?

“Don’t be surprised if Mom calls you back,” I said.

The silence on the other end of the line preceded the quiet click, and Ian was gone. Disconnected. I stared at my cell. Disconnected—a perfect description. We’d each disconnected from one another. Mentally, emotionally, physically. I knew it. Claire knew it too. And Ian had made his choice clear. Sometimes, when I let my guard down, when I allowed myself to think about what happened to my family, I wanted to howl. Instead, I popped an antacid.

Despite my disappointments, however, I still had hope. I’d been called a cockeyed optimist many times in my life. With Claire in such a good mood tonight, we had a chance to reconnect, to communicate, and rekindle the flame after twenty-five years. Of course, I had to deliver the bad news about Ian’s no-show, but my heart was light as I entered the restaurant.

IAN

Same night

After I hung up on my dad, I shoved the phone in my pocket and just stared into space. I saw nothing but heard Dad’s words. He’d said to bring a date. That was almost funny enough to make me laugh. I knew he wanted me back, but I couldn’t do it. No matter how many times I went over it in my head, I always came back to the same conclusion: I’d had to strike out on my own in order to survive. Kayla had died. I’d thrown the ball. Ergo, my fault. According to my mother. Not that she quite said it like that....

Whatever.

I ambled to the bedroom doorway and glanced at my sleeping daughter. Two months old. It seemed like two years. Colleen had been right about a few things. I really hadn’t known anything about babies. The crying, feeding, and checking on every minute. Thank God I hadn’t dropped her. In the beginning, I’d practiced holding her while sitting on the bed. Then I made Colleen walk next to me around the apartment while I carried Tina in my arms.

I bought one of those disposable cameras, and now a picture of Tina was in my wallet, along with the one of Kayla, the only family picture I’d brought from Bluebonnet Drive.

Yawning wide several times, I couldn’t believe how tired I was. I still didn’t understand how one little baby could cause so much work. She took short naps rather than long sleeps. Which meant I napped more than I slept even though Colleen had night duty, or was supposed to. Colleen slept deep. I slept light. She reminded me often that
she
was the one who’d been pregnant forever and given birth and had a right to be tired. Well, maybe so, but for how long? The best answer would be for Tina to sleep through the night. But when would that happen?

But she was so darn cute, so perfect, and I loved her so much! I walked closer to the crib, wanting to kiss her soft, rounded cheek, but checked myself against waking her. I back-stepped, returned to the living room, and reached for the baby-care book I’d picked up at the used bookstore. I dropped onto the couch, stretched until my feet dangled over the opposite arm, and started to read about sleep patterns. My own eyes closed within minutes, and I thought about Colleen at the local karaoke club and the fight we had before she left.

She’d written a couple of new country songs and wanted to try them out. “There’s nothing like performing for real, live folks to see what works and what doesn’t.”

“I understand that, you know I do. But why tonight? I’m tired. I may fall asleep and not hear her.”

“Then don’t lie down. How will I ever get to Nashville if I don’t sing my new songs?”

She could be damn stubborn when she had something at stake. “It’s not happening tomorrow, Colleen. Be reasonable.”

“I am reasonable. Tina’s got two of us, and tonight she’s got you. It’s your turn, Daddy.”

“And does she have a daycare next week?”

“No!” She grabbed her guitar and left the house.

Crap. Colleen was expected back at work on Monday. So now what? Finding a daycare was falling on me too. Did I have to manage everything around here?

And then it hit me. Maybe I did. Maybe I’d have to be the adult because Colleen, despite her career ambitions—or because of them—was still a girl. I was still crazy about her, but...well, if that’s the way it was, then I’d have to do whatever it took.

Tomorrow was Sunday. Maybe I could scout around and ask a neighbor to babysit. And pay her, of course. Or maybe Colleen should quit her job, and I’d take double shifts.

And Dad wanted me to bring a date to the anniversary party. If he could see me with my Saturday night “date,” he’d laugh. If I weren’t so tired, I’d laugh too.