Читать книгу September Love - Virginia Myers - Страница 12

Morning was hectic. Neither one had gotten much sleep the night before. Doug had been miserable about Kayla and Adam, and Beth was miserable because he was miserable. They had talked until very late. Then Seattle’s frequent night rains had found another hole in the roof over the Driscolls’ bedroom, in, of course, the area over the bed canopy. Someday they might recall and laugh about Mrs. Driscoll’s outrage, but not today. Then Doug had had to get Kayla to the rehab center before nine-thirty because she was to begin with a complete physical exam and the rehab doctor was only going to be there until eleven. Kayla and Doug had left before anyone had finished breakfast.

Kayla’s leaving had resulted in Adam’s near hysterical crying just as the Driscolls wanted to check out. The other guest, Justin Bryant, stepped in and showed remarkable child-consoling ability in calming Adam down while Beth dealt with the Driscolls.

“They’ll probably never come back,” Beth said resignedly to Justin when she returned to the dining room.

He glanced up from Adam and grinned. “And that would devastate you, of course?”

And she had had to laugh.

“No, I suppose not,” she said, sitting down at the now disordered table. “Are you off antiquing today?”

“Yeah, as soon as I can leave my little friend, here.”

Adam seemed content enough now. He sat at his place with his half-eaten breakfast before him. His small face was still flushed and tear-smudged, but he was methodically eating. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, so little, so confused.

She thought, Where else has he hidden food? Should she find all his carefully saved little scraps and throw them all away? What if more guests find half-eaten fragments in their rooms? What if Adam feels hungry in midafternoon and discovers one of his cherished fragments gone? How is it possible to explain to a three-year-old child that he will not be hungry in this house? Should she gather up all his tidbits and put them in one place for him? Maybe she could secretly throw away any that got too stale. Maybe that would make him feel secure until he had learned he would not be hungry here. She was startled by Justin’s voice.

“Earth to Beth. Are you out there somewhere?”

“Oh, Justin. I’m sorry. I was a thousand miles away.”

“I know.” He was laughing. “I’ve got to go now. We have big business afoot in the world of old stuff, and I’ve only got two more days. Can you take care of my little buddy now?”

“Yes, I’ll take over.” She got up to see him to the door. “Thanks more than I can say for stepping in. I’m sorry this morning was such a hassle.”

“Glad to help, Beth. Hassles make life interesting. See you later.”

She shut the front door behind him. There was one great thing about running a bed-and-breakfast. Wonderful people occasionally came and went in her life—many more than were not so wonderful.

Then her mind flew to Kayla. What were Kayla and Doug doing now? They would have reached the rehab center half an hour ago. Had Kayla made it through without breaking down again? She wished she had had more time with Kayla this morning. Perhaps she should have encouraged her more. But Kayla had seemed distracted, with a kind of vacancy that had puzzled Beth. She turned and went back into the dining room. The silence of the big, empty house pressed upon her. Adam was still at the table, observing his empty plate. He looked up anxiously, his blue eyes wide with worry. A three-year-old child should not have to worry.

“Mommy come back?” He had heard the door shut.

Beth forced herself to speak brightly when all she wanted to do was cry. “Not yet, Adam. It’s too soon. Mommy’s coming back but later. Not today.” She mustn’t get too attached to Adam, she warned herself.

He gave a small sigh and started to climb down from his booster seat. She hurried forward and caught him before he fell. He never waited to be helped. He wasn’t expecting to be helped. But he should. Little children should expect help. And get it.

“Toy box,” he said firmly, and Beth felt a surge of relief. He wanted to go to the toy box and perform his version of playing. This meant he would sit there soberly for a while, taking out the toys and looking at them, then putting them back. Now and then he would piece together some of the small yellow plastic pieces to make some oddly shaped creation. He played so differently, not like Jill’s little boy, Ben. Ben was often lost in his own imaginary world, but it was a secure world. He emerged from it now and then to play with other children, and Ben’s laugh was a delight to hear. Would they ever hear Adam laugh? Had Adam ever laughed? What had he to laugh about?

She cleared the table, tidied up the kitchen, and was making beds when Doug came back. She heard him go into the bed-sitter. Could Adam stay in the bed-sitter alone at night? One more question. One more thing to worry about. When would this end? Leaving a half-made bed, she hurried downstairs to talk to Doug.

“Did everything go all right?” she asked him after she had kissed him.

“I guess so. She’s in there, anyhow.” He sounded tired. He was watching the little boy intently.

“I wanted to talk with her this morning,” Beth said. “But there was so much else to do, I couldn’t.”

“I know, love. I don’t think it would have mattered. I think you’ll probably find an empty vodka bottle in here when you clean up. She’d had a few for courage before we left. Didn’t you notice?”

“No. Not really. You mean you think she’d been drinking? In the morning?”

“Beth,” he said gently, “it’s clear you’ve never lived with an alcoholic. Yes, she’d been drinking. One of the first things to learn when dealing with an alcoholic is that the alcoholic will have a stash of booze somewhere. Food? Only a maybe. But booze? Yes. Always. I suspect that ugly big gray tote bag she hangs on to as if it were full of gold bullion is the receptical of choice for our Kayla.”

“I’m sorry,” Beth said weakly. “Should I have done something?”

“What? She had already decided on rehab, on giving it another try, but until she actually went into rehab it would have been Kayla just doing her thing. God help her. Let’s just pray that it works this time. That this time she makes it. She was serious about it, I’ll give her that. It takes some guts to admit you’ve screwed up and even more guts to admit you can’t handle it and need help. She’s really trying and…it kind of breaks my heart because…”

“Because why?” Beth asked softly.

“Because I’m scared that she’ll fail, I guess.”

“Oh, Doug, she will succeed this time. I just know it. She’s got to.” She couldn’t stand Doug feeling so defeated, and so guilty.

He spoke quickly, turning his gaze to the sober little boy. “And if she doesn’t?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve got to talk some more about this, consider all the possibilities.” He indicated Adam, without speaking his name. “We must be sure about him. Nothing can change that. If Kayla makes it this time, fine, his place is with his mother. But otherwise…”

Yes, otherwise. What was Doug thinking? Beth made herself think about the possibilities. She suddenly knew to the bottom of her soul that they couldn’t stand by, if Kayla failed, and watch her leave with Adam. She couldn’t do that to Doug or Adam. She could not stand at the door and watch his little legs trying to keep up with the billowing green skirt going rapidly to—where? To somewhere that didn’t have enough for him to eat? Never again did she want to think of his digging dirty fingers into a limp bag for leftover french fries— But what about the rights of grandparents? What right did Doug have to dictate to Kayla how Adam should be cared for?

No, they couldn’t forget about otherwise. She had loved being a grandparent. There was so much joy in it. All the fun of welcoming her daughters’ children trooping up the front steps for a visit. None of the commitments of keeping lists of booster shots, of dental appointments, of the sudden edge-of-death illnesses of small children that went away the next day after a sleepless night for the parents. Oh, that otherwise. If worse came to worse and Kayla didn’t make it this time, could she really handle the otherwise again? For this little boy? All the unending problems of parenting?

Doug was looking at her with a question in his eyes. “That little bundle to take care of now, at this time in our lives, could be a real handful. Or, as they say today, a ‘challenge.”’ He was speaking tentatively, with uncertainty in his voice. She felt an inner chill. He went on. “Our life is good, Beth. You and me. Here. Now. Together. If anything should put it at risk, I don’t think I’m above falling on my knees and howling like a banshee. That’s what I mean when I say we should talk about this more, consider all the possibilities. Even the possibility—make that probability—that Kayla could blow it again.”

And Adam was already a psychologically abused child, a child with many problems.

“I agree,” Beth said. “We need to get serious, think about solutions, all the what-ifs, of raising a child.” What am I saying? No way could we take on a child to raise at this wonderful time in our lives.

“Whatever way it goes with Kayla,” she said carefully, “I think we should try to persuade her to stay in Seattle. So we can be aware of how he’s doing. So we can at least have a, er, monitoring position. For whatever reasons, Kayla has shown herself to be…vulnerable. She’s not as…strong as most people. Even if she recovers completely but some sort of pressure mounts, she might need help again. So I think she should be here. I mean in Seattle. Don’t you think so?” Even as she spoke her reassuring words her mind was silently screaming, I can’t do this!

“Besides the fact that I would probably agree with anything you say, yes, I think we should try to keep Kayla in Seattle. I’m going to stay vigilant about Adam.”

Beth felt a little sick. Nothing must ever separate her from Doug. He had sounded uncertain, uneasy. There was one absolute in this wonderful part of her life, this marvelous second chance at love: she must never—for any reason—lose this closeness with Doug. Together, with the operative word being together, they would have to handle this. Somehow.

“When will we know how Kayla is doing?”

Doug sighed. “Not for six weeks. At first the patients aren’t allowed to call out or receive incoming calls or visits. It’s a period of orientation, sort of. Training, I guess. Redirecting the person’s mind-set. Broadening the focus off getting that next drink to some sort of realization that there is more to life than getting that next drink. And that life entails responsibility, that other people are out there who need thinking about. They seem to know what they’re doing. Their success rate is quite good, keeping in mind that once a person is an addict—to whatever—that person will always be more vulnerable than someone who has never had a dependency on something. The fact that a person becomes addicted in the first place indicates a cry for help, that the person has—needs help in some way.” He paused. “And isn’t getting it.”

Beth went into his arms and he held her tightly for a long moment. Oh, Doug, I love you so much. They were both looking somberly at Adam by the toy box. Adam put two pieces of yellow plastic together, struggled with them before they clicked into place together. Then he paused and stared off into the distance.

“Mommy, come back,” he muttered softly to himself.

“Yes,” Beth said. “Not right away, Adam. Not today. But she will come back.” And Adam nodded, turning his attention back to the bits of plastic in his small hands, as the phone ringing broke into the pensive mood.