There were murmurs in the room as others nodded, understanding how frustration can push someone toward alcohol.
“Is there anything we can do as a community to help?” Alex asked. “People around here are always willing to lend a hand.”
“I appreciate that,” Clay said. “I don’t know if anyone can do anything right now, but maybe later. It’s been an emotional rollercoaster for me, coming home under these circumstances.”
The older woman who’d offered her help at the last meeting spoke up. “Hi, Clay. I’m Corrine. Can I ask a personal question? Why were you away so long? You said you’ve been sober for two years.”
Hesitating, he ran a hand through his hair. He’d figured people would be curious since no one had known Jess was married. But if he couldn’t trust telling his fellow AA members his story, then who could he trust?
“That’s why I’m having such a hard time with my oldest daughter. I went to rehab for the third time two years ago. It was my last shot to make things right with my family. Jess moved up here to work on the house and start a B&B, and I had always intended on coming up here too, at least part-time since my work is in LA. But after I got out of rehab, the days went by quickly. Then months. Then years. I wasn’t sure I could handle the stress of family and expectations right away. Then I was afraid that if I couldn’t handle it, I’d lose them forever. Unfortunately, I did a lot of damage by not coming home.”
The woman nodded. “I understand. We’ve all damaged relationships in one way or another. But you’re here now, and that’s important.”
A man who looked like he was in his thirties, with a sleeve of tats on his arm and multiple piercings, spoke up. “I’m Trevor. Any time of the day or night, you can call if you feel like you’re losing it, man. I know the pressure you’re under. I have two kids too, and I haven’t been the best husband or father, but I keep trying. I’d be happy to help.”
“Thanks, Trevor. I appreciate it.”
As others shared their stories, Clay felt grateful for being there. Everyone seemed sincere in their wish to help, and that made him feel stronger. They ended their meeting with the Serenity Prayer, and Clay took those words to heart. He needed to take things one day at a time and not try to control everything. That was the only way he was going to get through this ordeal.
His cell phone rang on his way home. It was his agent, Jeff Goodwin.
“Hey, Jeff. What’s up?” he said, putting the call on speaker.
“I was going to ask you the same question. What’s happened to you? It’s like you fell off the face of the earth.”
Clay chuckled. Jeff had been his agent for the past five years, getting Clay the best jobs in the studios and on the road. He wouldn’t be where he was professionally if it weren’t for Jeff.
“Sorry to worry you. Jess was in an accident, and I’m up here with the girls. Since a week ago, I haven’t had a moment to think of anything else.”
“Oh, man. That’s terrible. How is Jess? Is she okay?”
Clay gave him a short version of what had been going on and heard Jeff whistle softly over the phone.
“Wow. I had no idea. Sorry, Clay. I certainly hope she comes out of it.”
“She has to,” Clay said. “So, why are you calling?”
“Oh, well, it seems terrible now that I called, but I was told to remind you about the tracks you’re supposed to lay down for Chris’s album next week. The producer hasn’t seen you around the studio lately and is freaking out. They’re on a tight schedule.”
“Sorry, Jeff, but I can’t be there next week. Can’t they give me a little more time for a family emergency?” The last thing Clay wanted to worry about right now was work.
“I don’t know. He really wanted you for this song. He’s even asking about you traveling with the band as his lead guitarist when they go on tour. It’s a tremendous opportunity.”
“I know,” Clay said. “But I need to be here with my girls. I can’t just leave them while their mom is in the hospital. They already have trust issues with me. That would prove I didn’t care.”
“Bring them with,” Jeff said.
Clay’s brows rose. “Are you serious? Bring them to a studio session?”
“Why not? You’ve brought Maddie before. A lot of artists have their kids along. It’s not going to take more than a few hours to do anyway. Think about it, okay?”
After saying good-bye, Clay thought about what Jeff had suggested. He hated missing out on being on Chris’s upcoming album. He was sure there’d be a few hit singles from it, and it was great exposure. The fact that a country star of that caliber wanted him to play on his album was already a compliment. But being here with the girls and Jess was more important than any album. He’d ponder if for a few days and see how Jess was before deciding one way or the other.
When Clay arrived home, the girls, along with Eileen, Emma, and Jerrod, were there. Jilly and Jerrod were playing a game on the dining room table while Maddie and Emma practiced their song in the living room. As soon as Clay entered, though, Maddie stopped playing.
Eileen greeted him in the entryway. “Hope you don’t mind us being here. The girls wanted to practice.”
“No, it’s not a problem,” he said. “I wish Maddie would keep playing, though. I’d love to hear them.”
Eileen turned back toward the living room. “Girls? Why don’t you continue playing?” But Emma was already packing up her violin.
Eileen looked at Clay. “Sorry. It’s getting late anyway. We’d better head home.” She called to Jerrod that it was time to leave.
“Just a few more minutes?” Jerrod replied, but his mother told him no.
As he and Jilly walked out into the foyer, Eileen introduced her son. “Jerrod and Jilly are in the same class in school.”
“Nice to meet you, Jerrod,” Clay said.
The young boy smiled up at him and said, “Hi.” He had his dad’s dark hair and brown eyes and was tall for his age.
“Thanks for watching the girls and giving them dinner again,” Clay told Eileen.
“I’m happy to do it. Jess would do it for me if the situation was reversed. They are welcome every Wednesday night. Just give me a heads up.”
After the Neilsons left, Maddie turned out the light in the living room and headed for the stairs.
“Does anyone want a snack before bed?” Clay asked.
“I do!” Jilly said, raising her hand.
“What about you, Madds?”
“I’m going to bed,” she said, one foot on the stairs.
He approached her. “I sure wish you’d let me hear you play.”
Maddie shook her head. “No. Then it’ll no longer be my thing. It’ll become about you. I play piano because I enjoy it and am good at it, not because you’re a musician.”
Clay knew she meant those words to hurt him, but he took the high road. “I wouldn’t take credit for it, Madds. You’re right. You play well because you work at it. That makes me even prouder of you.”
Maddie stood there, wrinkling her brow. He guessed she hadn’t expected him to agree with her.
“Good night,” Maddie said. She ran up the stairs before he could say anything more.
“Snack!” Jilly said, grabbing her father’s hand and pulling him toward the kitchen.
Clay chuckled. “Okay, okay.” As he went into the kitchen, he grinned. He hoped he’d made a little headway with Maddie tonight. Baby steps. Tiny, little baby steps.
June 30, 2003
Clay and Jess were married on a perfect California day at the little cove where they had made love the very first time. They vowed to love, honor, and cherish each other as they stood in the sand by the water, and their friends and family looked on. She wore a simple strapless gown that hugged her small waist and carried a bouquet of white roses and lavender. The groom looked handsome with his freshly cut hair and sand-colored suit. The sound of the waves caressing the beach was the perfect backdrop for their simple ceremony.
Afterward, they celebrated with a reception in Jess’s mother’s backyard. Clay’s musician friends brought along their instruments and played music into the wee hours. Jess’s mother, Karen, did as much as she could for them on her limited salary as a secretary. Jess’s grandmother, Mavis, also came to the wedding. Her grandfather, Earl, had just died in March, so it had been a difficult few months for Mavis. But she said she wouldn’t miss being there for her only granddaughter’s wedding.
Jess had finished her first year of pastry school and was planning on going for the second year that fall. A few of her fellow students came to the reception. Two had volunteered to make the wedding cake, and others brought an array of delicious desserts like crème brûlée, cherry tarts, and chocolate truffles. It made the small reception seem like a lavish event, with live music and gourmet desserts, and everyone had a wonderful time.
That night, after all the celebrating was over, Clay and Jess lay in each other arms in bed, sharing their dreams for the future. They felt warm and tipsy from all the champagne they’d consumed at the party. His career had continued to thrive, and in a year, she would be able to apply to upscale restaurants as a pastry chef. They had the world by the tail and were content with what they’d accomplished and what the future held.
“Maybe a little Madison will be in our future,” he whispered into her ear.
“Goodness! Let’s make sure this marriage works before we start thinking of children.”
“What?” Clay sat up in bed, startled. “You’re not already thinking of leaving me?”
She laughed warmly. “I’m just kidding, silly. I don’t want you to think I’m a sure thing, though. That way you’ll always want to come back to me no matter how many roadies try to lure you away.”
Clay dropped down on the bed again. “You’re not getting rid of me, lady. I always want to be your sure thing.” He kissed her neck, making her giggle.
“That’s good to hear,” she said softly. “No matter how far away you go, no matter for how long, you’ll always come back to me.”
“Always,” he whispered, taking her into his arms.
Clay sat on the front porch, thinking back to their wedding and the promises they’d made. He’d meant every word the day he promised to be with Jess, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. Yet somehow he’d managed to make a mess of things without meaning to. His drinking had started slow, a beer or two at home, a few drinks during a studio session, a few more while on the road with a band. And then he’d go home to Jess, and the drinking wouldn’t stop. Jess noticed a change in him, but he didn’t. He felt he was just having fun, just enjoying a few beers with friends. But when need replaced fun, even he noticed he wasn’t quite the same person.
He thought about his father, Bruce, who’d died when Clay was nineteen. His mother had died years before, leaving his father to raise him. Bruce hadn’t been a bad guy, just a tough one whose motto was “Work hard and drink harder.” He’d worked on the docks as a longshoreman since he was seventeen, and he was proud of it. But as the years went on, his drinking outweighed everything else. It was the booze that eventually caused him to wither away and die.
Clay and his dad hadn’t gotten along very well, especially when Clay started playing guitar to make a living right out of high school. His dad had wanted to get him a “man’s job” down on the docks, but that wasn’t for Clay. He’d been playing the guitar since he was eight years old, when his dad’s friend had given him a beat-up guitar. It was in his blood, as much as being a longshoreman was in his father’s. Clay had also never subscribed to his father’s “Drink hard” motto, so it was as much a surprise to him as it was to others when alcohol became his undoing.
No matter how far away you go, no matter for how long, you’ll always come back to me. Jess’s words to him on that night long ago replayed in his mind as if she’d just said them yesterday.
“I did finally come back to you,” Clay said into the quiet night. “I only pray I didn’t come back too late.”
With a heavy sigh, he headed inside the house and to bed.
CHAPTER TEN
The next morning, Clay’s cell phone rang right after the girls left for school. He glanced at it, and panic seized him. The hospital was calling.
“Hello?” he answered, already running out the door to his car.
“Mr. Connors?”
“Yes.”
“This is Dr. Bradbury. I’m sorry to have to call you like this, but your wife’s condition has changed.”
Clay went still. “Is she all right?”
“She had a seizure this morning. It caused other complications. She’s having an CT scan as we speak to determine if there has been any damage.”
“Damage? What do you mean?” Clay asked.
“I’m not saying that there is any; that’s the reason for the CT scan. But after the seizure, your wife stopped breathing on her own. We now have her on a ventilator. The scan is to check if there are any internal injuries that we might have missed the first time. I’m sorry I had to tell you this over the phone. Will you be coming here today as usual?”
“I’m on my way there now.”
“Good. We can talk when you get here. By then we’ll have the scan results and can discuss our options,” Dr. Bradbury said.
“This isn’t good, is it, Doctor?”
“It’s a setback to be sure. But don’t lose hope. We’ll know more by the time you get here.”
Clay’s heart pounded as he hung up and stared at the steering wheel. He had to calm down before he made the long drive to the hospital. Taking a deep breath, he repeated the Serenity Prayer several times before he was able to focus again. Then he put the car in drive.
The forty-five-minute drive was excruciating for him. He forced himself not to speed—an accident was the last thing he needed—but it was hard. Numerous scenarios about Jess’s condition ran through his mind. By the time he entered the hospital, his nerves were pulled as tight as strings on a guitar.
Dr. Bradbury was at Jess’s door when Clay arrived.
“What did you find out?” he asked anxiously.
“Let’s sit a moment,” the doctor said, leading him to a small waiting room down the hall. Clay was too agitated to sit, but he forced himself to, just to get the doctor to tell him the news.
“We didn’t find anything unusual in the CT scan. Internally, everything looks fine.”
“Then why did she stop breathing?”
“I can’t give you an answer. I’m sorry. The seizure triggered it, but we don’t know why. For the time being, we’ll keep her on the ventilator and monitor her progress.”
Standing, Clay walked to the other side of the room. He felt helpless and frustrated. “What does this mean? Is this a sign that she won’t make it? That there is more wrong with her, and that’s why she’s in a coma?”
Dr. Bradbury stood and walked over to Clay. “I’m sorry I can’t give you any definitive answers. But don’t give up hope. This is a setback, but it doesn’t mean there isn’t a chance she’ll come out of the coma.”
Clay wanted to believe that Jess would still wake up, but it was getting more difficult to hold on to hope. Dr. Bradbury left after assuring him again that things could turn around. Clay tried to believe that as he headed to Jess’s room.
The doctor had warned him it might be difficult to see Jess attached to the ventilator but assured him that she was in no pain. Clay took a deep breath to brace himself, then entered her room. He walked up to the bed, his heart breaking at the sight of Jess lying there hooked up to the machine. A strap ran across her face, securing the tubes that pushed oxygen in and out of her lungs. Even though the machine was quiet, it was disconcerting to see her this way.
Sitting down, he reached for Jess’s hand and carefully held it. Tears filled his eyes and slowly slid down his cheeks. He’d been trying so hard to be strong for the girls and not let his emotions rule his actions. He knew if he’d allowed that, he’d have succumbed to drinking
again. As long as he believed that Jess was coming back to them, he could control himself. But now, he was losing his inner strength. Was this one more step toward losing her? And if so, how could he and the girls go on without her?
“Jess, please. Please come back to us. I can’t do this alone. The girls need you. I need you. I’ll do anything if you’ll just come back,” he whispered to her.
The room’s door swished open, startling Clay. He looked up and saw Eileen standing there, a fresh bouquet of flowers in her arms. A look of shock momentarily crossed her face, but just as quickly, she hid it.
“What happened?” she asked, walking closer to the bed.
He stood, wiping the tears from his face. “She had a seizure earlier this morning and stopped breathing on her own.”
Staring down at her friend, compassion filled her eyes. “Goodness. What did the doctor say?”
“In a nutshell, they don’t know what caused it, and we shouldn’t give up.”
Clay watched as Eileen took a deep breath and pulled herself up straight as if bracing herself. She looked him in the eye. “Then that’s exactly what we’ll do. We won’t give up. Jess needs our strength now more than ever.”
She walked over to the window where a row of vases sat. “I thought I’d replace these with new ones. We want Jess to wake up to pretty flowers, don’t we? She said she was going to plant small gardens around the house this spring and have plenty in pots around the porch. She just loves colorful flowers.” Eileen stopped a minute and gazed out the window. “You know, I’m not sure I know what Jess’s favorites are.”
“Lavender,” Clay said softly. “It’s her favorite because she loves the scent.”
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