ONE SMALL VICTORY (17 page)

Quickly discounting the few fabricated
scenarios that flashed through her mind, Jenny finally decided on a
piece of the truth.

“You have to promise that what is said here,
stays here.”

“Sounds pretty serious.”

“It is.” She took a step toward him. “And you
can’t tell anyone. Not even Jeffrey.”

“We don’t have secrets.”

“You have to this time, Mitchell. Or I say
nothing more.”

He picked up a roll of green tape from the
table and spun it slowly on his fingers as he seemed to debate his
ability to comply. Finally he gave a curt nod.

“I’m working for the police.”

Shock brought Mitchell’s head up. “You’re
shittin’ me.”

“What? Is it so inconceivable that I
could?”

“No.” He shrugged. “It’s just not what I
expected.”

“It was easier to think I was involved with
drug dealers?”

“You know better than that.” The look he shot
her raised a twinge of guilt for being so sarcastic. “So what is it
that you’re doing for the cops?”

“That’s the part I can’t tell you.” Jenny
pushed scraps of stems, ribbon, and discarded blooms into a pile on
the table. “But hopefully it will be over soon. Then everyone will
know all the sordid details.”

“You aren’t doing anything dangerous?”

“Of course not.” She concentrated on sweeping
the pile of debris into a trash can. If she didn’t look at
Mitchell, maybe she could get that lie past him.

“Were Scott’s friends right when they said
you were hanging with drug dealers?”

Jenny set the trash can down and faced
Mitchell. “Please don’t keep asking questions. I can’t give you any
more answers.”

Watching an expression of frustration play
across his face, Jenny knew the amount of restraint it took for him
to stifle his curiosity. He was an intellectual sponge, always
needing to soak up every detail about things. Ambiguity drove him
nuts.

She laid a hand on his arm. “Just trust me on
this, Okay? Soon it will end and I can tell you everything.”

Mitchell nodded and then turned to leave.
Watching his stiff back as he walked through the doorway, Jenny
sighed. Would she live to regret telling him? Or worse, would she
not live to regret it?

But, God, how she hated the lying.

A long forgotten quote floated through her
mind. O what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to
deceive. She’d never lied so much in her life. Nor made so many
promises she wasn’t sure she could keep; first Scott, then Carol,
now Mitchell. There was no way she could guarantee that this would
soon be over. And how long before Carol pressed her for more
answers, and she had to give her another little piece of the truth.
How many pieces could she give out without being in danger?

~*~

Thanksgiving Day dawned bright and clear and
Jenny stood on the back porch with her coffee, watching the birds
that had decided to winter here flutter around the bare branches of
the elm tree. They filled the morning with their bird chatter, as
if wanting to proclaim to the whole world what a glorious day this
was shaping up to be.

Glad she had her bulky Terrycloth robe to
keep the chill wind at bay, she warmed her hands with the mug. The
weather had cooperated last year, too. After everyone had stuffed
themselves on turkey, mashed potatoes, yams, and six different
flavors of pie, the boys had piled out of the house to play
football in her mother’s huge front yard.

The memory was so vivid Jenny could hear the
shouts and laughter and taste the cinnamon sweetness of the pumpkin
pie her mother had brought out to the porch for the cheering
section.

Remembering pierced the armor she’d so
carefully wrapped around her heart, and the pain of loss came
rushing in like a rampaging river through a broken levee. For
almost three months now she’d made a conscious decision every
morning not to think of Michael. She’d ignored the urge to go into
his room, which was still the way he’d left it that awful night.
And she’d fought every intrusion of unwanted memory.

Not that she was trying to pretend he never
existed.

She was still trying to pretend that he
wasn’t really dead.

A tear trickled down her cheek, and she
raised a hand to wipe it away. You cannot cry. Crying weakens. You
need to be strong.

The scrape of the door opening startled her,
and she turned to see Scott, hair tangled and eyes still puffy with
sleep. She offered him a faltering smile. “You’re up early.”

“Damn birds woke me up.” He waved an arm
toward the tree.

“They are happy, aren’t they?”

“Glad somebody is.”

Searching his face, Jenny wondered if the
puffiness around his eyes was from sleep or something else. She
longed for the closeness they’d once had so she could ask him. Or
did she dare anyway?

“You okay?”

He shrugged.

Jenny sighed and took a sip of coffee, which
was now almost as cool as the breeze. Should she push Scott to talk
some more or let it go? They’d been treading some fine line of
civility for the past week, and she’d barely gotten him to agree to
the plans her mother had made for dinner today. Perhaps it would be
wiser not to do anything that would upset the delicate balance.

“I miss Michael.”

The words were soft, barely a whisper, but
the anguish in her son’s voice screamed at her.

“Oh, Scott.” Jenny put her coffee-cup on the
empty plant stand and opened her arms.

It was like an instant replay of that first
morning when the grief had seemed to ebb and flow between them like
currents of electricity. Scott cried in soft shudders of sobs, and
Jenny ran her hand across his back in a gesture she hoped was
soothing.

This very act of holding her son for the
first time in weeks, managed to take the edge off the lingering
pain of her grief. Holding him felt so good, so right, she wished
she could stay in the moment forever. No more lies. No more deceit.
And no more walks down the dark side.

Scott pulled away first, using the tail of
his rumpled tee-shirt to wipe at his face.

“Scott, I—”

“It’s okay, Mom.” He glanced away, then
sighed. “I’ll go see if Alicia wants to watch the parades.”

Jenny wondered if he was truly okay. Would
anything ever be okay in their lives again? But she filed the
questions away for another time. They just had to get through today
whatever way they could. And if that meant pretending, well, they’d
all gotten quite good at pretending.

She smiled at her son. “That would be nice.
She’d like that.”

He hesitated just a moment, almost as if he
was debating saying something, then shrugged and turned to open the
door.

After he left, Jenny turned her face to the
warm touch of the sun. Maybe it could reach clear down to that
horrible, cold, empty hole that had been gouged out of her
heart.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

As the waiter cleared the dishes from the
main course, Scott looked at his grandmother and asked. “Did Mom
tell you she’s hanging around with drug dealers?”

Jenny choked on her water and her mother went
so pale, Jenny was afraid she’d have a heart attack. “Scott,
please. Not here.”

The waiter gave her a strange look before
hurrying away, and Alicia tugged on the sleeve of Jenny’s dress.
“What does he mean, Mommy?”

“Nothing, Honey. It’s nothing.”

“Is that true?” Helen asked.

Jenny shot her son a look that she hoped
would hold him in check. What had precipitated such an abrupt
change since this morning? And what on earth was she going to say
to her mother? Whatever it was, she’d better do it fast. Stalling
was always the fist indication of the lie coming.

“No, I am not ‘hanging out’ with druggies.”
Jenny tried to keep her tone light and dismissive. “Scott got this
crazy idea because some friend of his saw me by the Dairy Queen one
night. Drug dealers apparently show up around there. But how was I
to know? I just wanted a sundae.”

Scott stirred in his chair, and Jenny froze
him with another look.

“Why on earth did they think you were with
those hoodlums?”

“I don’t know, Mother.”

There was a moment of awkward silence, and
Jenny couldn’t hold eye contact with her mother. She glanced at her
plate and tried to resume eating. Maybe it would all pass. God,
please let it all pass.

“Don’t fight anymore.”

Jenny turned to Alicia whose eyes were wide
with confusion and fear. “I hate it when you and Scott are
yelling.”

“I know, Sweetie.” Jenny touched her
daughter’s shoulder. “But it doesn’t mean anything. Lots of people
yell, but they still love each other.”

Alicia didn’t look convinced, so Jenny
offered a weak smile. “Trust me. Everything’s fine.”

Scott stood so abruptly Jenny didn’t have
time to try to stop him. “Everything is not fine,” he said, the
tone hard and cutting. “You sit here acting like we’re a normal
happy family. Well, we’re not. And I’m sick of pretending.”

He threw his napkin on his plate, shoved his
chair out of the way, and stormed out.

For a moment Jenny sat frozen. She didn’t
know what to say or what to do. People around them turned back to
their food offering a courtesy of feigned nonchalance. Alicia still
looked like a rabbit caught in headlights. And her son was... God,
she didn’t know where he was going.

“I need to—”

“I know,” Helen said. “Go. I’ll take Alicia
home with me.”

Jenny turned to her daughter. “I know this is
scary. But please believe me. It will be okay.”

“Are you going to find Scott?”

“Yes.”

“And make things okay with him?”

“Yes.” Jenny hugged Alicia, wishing that she
felt as confident as she talked. “You go with Grandma and I’ll pick
you up later.”

Rising, Jenny glanced at her mother and
murmured a “Thank you.”

“When you finish, we need to talk.”

Jenny nodded and hurried out. Damn. The last
time her mother had used that tone of voice Jenny had been sixteen
and had sneaked out with Carol to meet some boys. She’d paid dearly
for that indiscretion. No telling what would happen now.

Outside, Jenny saw no sign of her son. She
checked the parking lot, but he wasn’t by her car or her mother’s.
Think. Where would he go? He had some money. But how much? Enough
for a cab?

Walking toward Preston Road, Jenny tried to
figure out where Scott would even find a cab. Or what he would do
if he couldn’t. The thought that he might try to hitchhike sent a
cold tremor through her, and she tried not to think of all those
stories she’d heard about teens being abducted.

Traffic was light along the normally busy
road, but that was no surprise. Most folks were home celebrating
the day with family. But she did notice a small group of kids at
the park on the next corner. Then she spotted the bus stop across
the street. There, on the bench, was Scott, distinct in his red
windbreaker.

Jenny let out a sigh of relief and crossed
over. He didn’t even look up when she approached, but she knew he
was aware of her presence. “The bus doesn’t go to Little Oak.”

“It goes to Frisco. I can walk from
there.”

“It’s ten miles.”

“So?”

Still so rigid and unyielding, as if his body
had been carved out of the same stone as the bench. And that surly
tone. He was goading her, but she suppressed the knee-jerk reaction
and sat down next to him. “Please let me take you home.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”

Her first impulse was to slap him. Her second
was to ask why he was treating her like the bad guy. But she knew
why. She was acting like a bad guy, and there wasn’t a damn thing
she could do about it.

He shot her a quick look, then glanced away.
“I’m going to call Dad. He said I could come live with him if I
wanted to.”

For a moment Jenny sat mute, crushed by
Scott’s words. Was he serious? He’d just up and leave? She felt a
wrench deep inside, almost as if he was already gone. But that
couldn’t happen. She couldn’t lose Scott, too.

And on a very practical level she couldn’t
risk more trouble with Ralph. “When did he say that?” she
asked.

“The last time I told him how weird you’ve
been acting.”

Jenny took a deep breath. “And how many times
exactly have you called him?”

Scott shrugged, and she touched him on the
knee. “Have you thought this through? Or are you just
reacting?”

He didn’t respond, so she continued. “Could
you just wait. A week, maybe two?”

“Is that going to make a difference?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Scott laughed, a harsh sound that was
anything but pleasant. ”You’ve been fucking up our lives for months
and it’s all going to be okay next week?”

Resisting another urge to slap him, Jenny
fought for control. “Don’t talk to me that way.”

“Or what? You going to send me to my room?”
His eyes were cold and hard. “There isn’t anything you could do to
me that matters any more.”

The words stung and the pain almost took her
breath away. “Don’t say things in anger that you’ll regret.”

Scott turned away and into the dreadful
silence came laughter from the kids across the street. Jenny
watched them spin on the merry-go-round for a moment until a sudden
memory of Michael and Scott in a similar park years ago slammed
into her. Even as toddlers they’d had no fear of the merry-go
round. They’d scrambled up on the scuffed wooden platform and told
her to push, faster and faster until she’d stumbled over clods of
dirt. Their laughter had rung through the park when she’d ended up
on her ass in the dirt.

Jenny wiped a trickle of moisture from her
cheek, then laid her hand on Scott’s knee again. “Do you really
want to go live with your father?”

He shrugged.

“I mean, I won’t stop you if you’re sure. But
it’s been so long...”