Thursdays At Eight

by Debbie Macomber

  “What happened to your arm?” Karen demanded.

  “Daddy hit me real hard,” Bryce sobbed, “then he pulled Mommy’s arm.”

  So Roger had taken to hitting his son. Victoria had accepted the abuse for herself, but now that her husband had begun to hurt their child, she’d drawn the line.

  “How bad is it?” Karen asked, wondering if she needed to get her sister to the hospital immediately.

  “It doesn’t matter. Let’s go.” Victoria’s voice was edged with panic. “Please, it’s all right.”

  “Mommy, Mommy?” Bryce started to cry louder.

  “Everything will be fine, sweetheart.” Victoria comforted him in soft tones. “Auntie Karen’s here to take us to her house.”

  Karen ushered the two of them toward her car and was fastening Bryce’s seat belt when she heard Roger’s shout.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, bitch?”

  “Go,” Victoria cried.

  “No.” Karen turned to face her brother-in-law, who stood in the open doorway, his hands on his hips.

  Swearing and clearly drunk, Roger stumbled down the steps and started toward his family. He was in a rage, his face red and twisted with anger. He stared at Karen, and then Victoria, who huddled protectively over her son in the back of Karen’s vehicle.

  “Stay out of this,” he warned Karen.

  “I wasn’t going to say a word.”

  Her response apparently surprised him, because his gaze wavered from his wife and son to briefly clash with hers.

  How dared he hurt her sister! How dared he strike a child! “You’re a pitiful excuse for a man,” she said contemptuously.

  He swore again and lunged at her. Karen was quick on her feet and managed to avoid his swing. Victoria screamed. Unfortunately, when Karen moved, she gave Roger access to his wife. Cursing, he reached inside the car and yanked on Victoria’s arm.

  Victoria let out a shrill cry of pain.

  Hardly aware of what she was doing, Karen leaped onto Roger’s back, pounding him with both fists. Everyone was shouting at once, Bryce was crying and Roger was bucking and heaving in an effort to throw Karen off.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Karen saw the patrol car pull up to the curb and released her frantic hold on her brother-in-law. That gave him the slack he needed to strike out at her. She didn’t see the punch coming until it was too late. He got her square in the jaw, hitting with enough force to knock her to the ground.

  Almost immediately, the two police officers had Roger in a tight grasp. They dragged him away, toward their car. Roger’s demeanor altered instantly.

  “Officers,” he said, sounding completely sober. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Sure you are, Roger,” Karen shouted back, although her jaw ached just from talking and she still felt so dizzy she thought she might faint.

  While one officer spoke with him, the second approached Karen. “Can you tell me what’s going on here?” he asked.

  “My sister…” Karen pointed to Victoria, who climbed out of the car, holding Bryce against her left side.

  “This is all my fault,” Victoria sobbed.

  “It isn’t your fault!” Karen yelled, afraid that now, with the police involved, her sister would change her mind.

  “I should never have called you,” Victoria said.

  Then they were talking at the same time, each one struggling to be heard over the other. Karen was trying to explain why the police were there, and Victoria kept insisting she was to blame. Roger was shouting, too.

  “Who’s married to whom here?” the older of the two officers asked.

  It took several minutes to sort out the details. As she listened, Karen couldn’t help thinking that her brother-in-law was the one who deserved a career on the stage. According to him, Karen was a meddlesome troublemaker intent on breaking up his marriage. He wanted to press charges against her for a malicious attack on his person. While it was true he’d struck out at her, he said, he’d only been defending himself. When he finished, he demanded that the police haul her away.

  For one confused and crazy minute, that seemed about to happen. Then Victoria stepped forward.

  “I…I phoned my sister…” she said in a small, hesitant voice.

  “All right, all right,” Roger said, staring at Victoria. “I’ll be willing to drop the assault charges against your sister if you’ll agree to put this…this incident behind us.”

  “You’ve got to be joking,” Karen yelled.

  Roger ignored her. “I’ll admit I did get upset with my wife earlier and I probably overreacted.” He turned to the officers, laughing as if it’d all been a misunderstanding that had gotten out of hand. He regretted his annoyance, he said; the last thing he wanted was to turn it into a federal case.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Roger said next, looking at Victoria again and sounding eminently reasonable. “I really do regret this. There’s no need to get the police involved in a family matter, is there? You don’t want this, and neither do I.”

  Victoria bit her lower lip, her eyes cast down. She actually seemed to be considering his words.

  Karen didn’t know what she’d say or do if her sister decided to go back to this bastard. She noticed that the neighbors’ houses were now blazing with light. Great—an audience.

  “I’m sorry, too,” Victoria whispered.

  Roger relaxed and glanced toward the police officers again. “A man works hard all week. Is it too much to ask that his wife have his dinner ready when he gets back from a Saturday golf game with clients?” He made a good-natured question out of it, but Karen heard the censure. In his view, this was all Victoria’s fault.

  “I’m sorry,” Victoria repeated, her voice stronger and more confident now.

  “I know you are,” Roger said in cajoling tones. “Why don’t we let these people go about their business and get back inside? Come on, sweetheart.”

  Karen thought she was going to be sick.

  “I’m so sorry it’s come to this,” her sister continued. She turned to face the two police officers. “I’ll be pressing abuse charges against my husband. I believe my shoulder’s been dislocated. This isn’t the first time he’s hit me—doctor’s records will confirm a number of recent visits in which I’ve been treated for so-called accidents.”

  Roger’s anger exploded and he started toward his wife, fists clenched, but the police restrained him. Within minutes, he was in handcuffs and in the back of the patrol car.

  Victoria sobbed and Karen gently placed both arms around her sister, offering what comfort she could. At the same time, she held on to Bryce tightly. He didn’t understand what was happening or why. He clung to his mother and buried his face in her stomach, not wanting to look.

  It was dawn before Victoria was released from the hospital emergency room, where her shoulder had been reset, and a police report filed. Not long after that, Karen brought their parents fully into the picture. Victoria, along with Bryce, moved back into the family home that day, and Vernon Curtis made immediate arrangements to collect their clothing and personal belongings. He also provided Victoria with an attorney whose name Karen recognised—Lillian Case. Their father had always been a practical man, Karen thought now, something his daughters had never valued enough.

  At noon, an exhausted Karen prepared to return to her own apartment. She’d been a heroine in her family’s eyes, and she basked in their love and approval. Before she left, Victoria hugged her and with tears in her eyes thanked her sister.

  But the one with real courage had been Victoria. Roger was a formidable enemy, but his reign of terror had finally come to an end. Karen would relish sitting in the courtroom when her brother-in-law faced a judge.

  She didn’t wake until nearly six that afternoon. She sat up, stretched her arms luxuriously and reached for the telephone. Although she’d never called Glen, she knew his number by heart.

  He sounded preoccupied when he answered.

  “It’s Ka
ren.”

  “Karen…hello.”

  The joyful surprise in his voice warmed her from the inside out. “You doing anything important?” she asked.

  “Not a thing.”

  “I thought I’d invite you to dinner.”

  “Sure. What night?”

  “How about tonight?” she asked, smiling as she spoke. “It’s a celebration.”

  “What time? And what are we celebrating?”

  “A job.”

  “You got the part in that sitcom?” he asked.

  “No, they turned me down flat.” She felt such rightness about all of this. “Actually, it’s a little premature to celebrate, but I’m fairly confident the position of drama teacher is still open.”

  “It was the last I heard,” Glen assured her. “Are you applying?”

  “I do believe I am.”

  Her announcement was met with a shocked silence. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes,” she told him. “I’m very sure.”

  All her life, Karen had known what she wanted; she hadn’t known nearly as well what she needed. Only now was she beginning to understand the difference.

  May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind always be at your back.

  —Irish toast

  Chapter 38

  LIZ KENYON

  September 7th

  In a moment of weakness I allowed Sean to talk me into coming along on this driving vacation. Afterward, I had some reservations, but I have to admit, I’m enjoying his company. We left early this morning. I had our route all planned. The first night I thought we’d stay in Flagstaff. We could drive farther, but I wanted to have plenty of time for stops and sightseeing.

  One day on the road, and all my careful calculations went down the drain. We’re in Las Vegas. Sean’s idea, naturally. I’d been here once before, years ago, with Steve. Has this town changed! We’re staying at the New York, New York. As soon as we checked in, I went to the video poker machines and Sean headed for the blackjack tables. I didn’t see him again until dinnertime. He got us tickets to see Lance Burton’s magic show, and we didn’t call it a night until after one. Tomorrow we hit the road again. I almost hate to leave.

  September 13th

  I meant to document every day of the trip, but by the time I get to bed, I’m too exhausted to write. Sean and I ended up spending two nights in Vegas. We’ll probably stop there on the way back, too, if time allows. Naturally it depends on our route. I asked him about visiting his daughter, and as best I can determine, he hasn’t made contact with her. It’s hard to keep my opinions to myself, but on the subject of his ex-wife and daughter, I’m doing exactly that.

  Those two nights in Vegas were a wonderful start to this vacation. It’s like an amusement park for adults. I came away a hundred dollars richer and Sean isn’t saying, which leads me to believe he lost at the blackjack tables. We sat and played slot machines for a couple of hours during our last night there, laughing and joking with each other. The mood was light, energetic, fun. It’s very easy to love this man. Far too easy.

  The third night, we stayed in Amarillo, Texas, which made for a long day on the road. I was anxious to get to Amy and Jack’s, and Sean seemed to realize that, pushing ahead. We arrived in Tulsa by nightfall. Amy had dinner waiting for us. She’d also prepared two guest rooms, one of them the den with pull-out couch. Sean offered to take that—an offer I accepted.

  Andrew and Annie were all over Sean, and he’s just great with kids. Both my grandchildren think he’s wonderful and so does Amy. In fact, the four of them are getting along famously.

  Yesterday afternoon Jack took Sean to play golf, which both deemed a success.

  Amy and Jack have adjusted well to the move. Jack got a big promotion with the shipping company and enjoys his job at corporate headquarters. Amy loves being an at-home mom and is grateful for the opportunity.

  Our second day in Tulsa, Annie wanted to have a tea party the way we used to when she lived in California, so we did. Sean was invited, too. I wonder if he realizes what an honor that was.

  September 17th

  Sean phoned his daughter this afternoon. He’d been putting it off and I know it’s been on his mind since before we left. Amy and I sat on the patio with the children while he used the phone in the den. He didn’t come out for at least twenty minutes, and the instant I saw his smile I knew the conversation had gone well.

  After talking to Eileen, he was eager to head for Seattle, which we’ll do first thing tomorrow morning. I’ve so enjoyed this time with my daughter and her family, but it’s been a week now and that’s long enough. They need to return to their everyday work and school routines.

  Sean never did tell me what caused the estrangement between him and his daughter. Nor has he mentioned what caused his divorce—other than “fickleness” on his wife’s part. What does that mean? An affair? It’s not that I want to hear all the ugly details. It’s a matter of trust. I want him to trust me enough to share his past, and I don’t know if that’s possible for him or not.

  September 20th

  We arrived in Seattle and the city is just as beautiful as I’d expected. I met Eileen, Sean’s daughter, her husband, Ron, and their four-year-old daughter, Emily. The meeting was a bit strained at first.

  Eileen looks a lot like Sean, but any resemblance stops there. She’s quiet and soft-spoken and delicate. Her husband works for Boeing and is currently putting in a lot of overtime. He’s not around much.

  Wanting to give Sean as much time as possible with his daughter, I’ve gotten acquainted with Emily. She’s a delightful child.

  This evening, as we were driving back to the hotel, Sean finally told me about his divorce. His ex-wife had been involved in an affair with his former business partner—more or less what I’d suspected. As is often the case, Sean was the last to know. The divorce was messy, and because his daughter was in high school, Sean felt Eileen would be better off with her mother. The problem was that she wanted to live with Sean and he turned her down. Eileen was crushed by what she saw as his rejection and afterward refused to speak to him. Apparently his daughter’s hurt and disappointment was fueled by her mother. Sean told me his ex has been married and divorced twice in the last ten years.

  Sean admitted he’d played a role in the estrangement, though. When Eileen refused to answer his phone calls and letters, he gave up trying to communicate with her. He couldn’t force her to let him into her life, or so he reasoned. He kept track of her from a distance, but rather than face continual rejection from the one person he truly loved, he buried himself in his work. It was during this period that he helped establish Little Lambs. Still, he sees now that he should have persisted in trying to stay in touch. He particularly regrets missing her wedding and the birth of his granddaughter.

  After our talk, we walked along the Seattle waterfront to the hotel. I feel that the bond between us has grown. There’s trust and commitment now. I’m happy, happier than I’ve been since Steve died.

  While Sean was in his room changing for dinner, I stood on my balcony, which overlooks Puget Sound, and watched the sun set over the Olympic Mountains. This has been one of the best vacations of my life.

  “The excursion is the same when you go looking for your sorrow as when you go looking for your joy.”

  —Eudora Welty

  Chapter 39

  CLARE CRAIG

  October 22nd

  I’ve been spending a lot of time at the hospital with Michael, doing what I can, which seems damn little at this point. The boys are here, too, as much as possible, although it’s difficult for them to see their father like this. I’m proud of them. It isn’t easy to watch your parent die and they’re handling this with an inner strength I didn’t know they possessed.

  Mick and Alex both decided to take the first semester off from college; they didn’t want to leave their father, knowing that Michael’s time is very short now.

  Because of the drugs, Michael’s out of it most da
ys, but every now and then, the fog clears and he’s aware of who’s with him and what’s happening.

  This evening was one of those times. He’s so weak now. The fight is gone and with it the will to live. I always thought that when death came, it would be as “a thief in the night,” stealing away what is most precious. I thought death would be resisted to the final moment, the final gasp. It’s not true. Michael has accepted his death.

  In those few moments of clarity, Michael told me he doesn’t fear it anymore. After everything he’s endured, the pain of liver cancer, the treatment, followed by the riptide of hope and despair—after all that, dealing with death seems almost easy.

  We laughed about that. Until tonight I could never imagine laughing about death. But it was either laugh or cry, and I knew Michael needed the laughter more than my tears. Then he did the most unexpected thing.

  He reached for my hand and without a word of explanation whispered that he was sorry.

  He didn’t need to elaborate. I knew what he was saying. He was sorry for the affair, sorry for the divorce, sorry for the grief he’d heaped upon me.

  I remember when he first told me he was moving out. The shock of his falling in love with Miranda had left me speechless. I was stunned and bewildered long before I felt the pain of his betrayal. Perhaps that should have told me something. I remember that, as he was packing, he claimed I didn’t need him and Miranda did. At the time that incensed me. Of all the ridiculous things to say! If he wanted a clinging, insecure little girlfriend instead of a grown-up wife, then he was welcome to her.

  Only now do I truly understand what he meant. It wasn’t that I didn’t need him, because I did in all the ways that mattered. It was that I didn’t let him know it. I didn’t let him know I enjoyed his company and valued his opinion. I’d slipped into the habit of making all the important decisions when it came to our family. I was the one who handled the finances, dealt with our sons, the house and just about everything else. Without knowing what I’d done, I stripped Michael of his pride.