Second Thoughts

by O'Keefe, Bobbie

Derek appeared then and started breakfast. He wore jeans, a light-red pullover, and his don’t-mess-with-me look. Connie sidled out of the kitchen, getting out of his way. Moose and Max exchanged long looks and shrugs, and then went back to their respective storybook and newspaper, prudently not offering to help with the cooking.

  The toast was dark-brown and rock-hard, the bacon undercooked, and the scrambled eggs were dry and crusty and brown on the bottom. Nobody said a word.

  After breakfast, Max assigned Petey to kitchen duty. “You’ve had it too easy for too long. I don’t want you to forget how to do things. Chris can help.”

  Connie went back for her sneakers and carried them to the back yard. She decided to wear the same jeans and top from yesterday, shower later today and change then. She was sitting on the ground next to a pink azalea, tying the second shoelace when she heard the door open. Tensing, she jerked her head up.

  She relaxed. “Oh. Hi, Max.”

  “No way could I sit on the ground like that and tie my shoes. You make me feel old, Aunt Connie.”

  She got to her feet, feeling surprised with her thoughts, not his speech. “I was going to go for a walk, but it hadn’t even occurred to me to talk to you.”

  He laughed. “Are you telling me we’ve moved beyond kidnapper and kidnappee?”

  She smiled. “Never heard you laugh before. Yeah, looks like we’ve made some progress in that direction.” She glanced around, studying the terrain, then looked back. “Join me?”

  “Thought you’d never ask.” He indicated a path behind the house. “That stream where you were fishing meanders around back this way. It’s not far.”

  They walked side by side in comfortable silence until Max asked, voice mild, “What happened between you and Derek this morning?”

  Her step faltered.

  Shrugging, he returned her gaze. “Something happened. He’s about ready to blow, and when he does, either you or I will get the full force of it. Before I get both barrels, I should at least know what the problem is.”

  She resumed walking, and he fell in step. Surprisingly, she didn’t resent the question, but the answer wasn’t simple. “Well, I, he, uh, we…”

  “If you can get one whole sentence put together,” he advised mildly, “the rest will probably follow.”

  She took a deep breath. “Okay. When I woke up this morning, it was like we’d been transported back in time, to a better place when things were good between us. Then harsh reality set in, and I...I crashed. We both did.”

  “Pretty rude awakening.”

  “Good way to put it.”

  The farther in on the path they got, the more overgrown the foliage became. “Doesn’t look like you guys travel back here very often,” she commented.

  “Grows in thick in the spring, gets beat back some by fall.” He held a branch back so she could pass. “How come you got divorced in the first place?”

  She stopped and studied him, feeling the frown come over her face.

  He held on to the branch, waiting. “So I’m nosy. You want to talk, fine. If not, then don’t.”

  She shrugged. “Sure, why not? Putting it into words for someone else might make it clearer to me.” As she walked ahead, she got a cautious thought and looked back. “Poison oak, poison ivy?”

  “Never seen any.”

  A mass of tree roots was spread over the ground ahead of her, in patient wait for unwary feet. With her gaze on the path and her thoughts in the past, she felt another frown forming. “Derek and I were always, well…both of us are…well, uh—” Breaking into her speech and stride, she looked back. “We claimed incompatible differences. Would you settle for that?”

  He grinned. “That tough, huh?”

  She looked back at the path without returning the smile, and her gaze settled absently on a cluster of yellow poppies. She wanted to talk; she was surprised at how strong her desire was to confide. “As you may have noticed, we’re both kind of independent and strong-minded—”

  When his grin returned, she caught it and gave him a direct look. “Okay, then you know what I mean.” She pushed her tongue against her bottom teeth, realized what she was doing and made herself stop. “Okay, let’s put it in a nutshell. On a dance floor, one needs to lead and one needs to follow, and that’s the way Derek approached marriage. He couldn’t leave that pattern on the dance floor where it belonged, and I never learned how to follow after we left the dance floor behind us.”

  Max nodded. “I get the picture.”

  “We clashed. Constantly. I felt crowded. And then he got frustrated and bewildered when I pushed back. But we always found a way to work around each other, despite our worst instincts. Then he got his big break, and, well, that was the beginning of the end.”

  Images, as vivid as snapshots, flashed through her mind and rendered her silent.

  Derek’s face when he’d brought the news to her…his arms around her as he’d lifted her off her feet and swung her around. Celebrating with cold duck, getting sloshed and spending the day in bed making love with wild abandon, and then with soft, gentle precision. Then, too soon, the cold dawn as priorities rose, changed, clashed. His expression harsh with impatience, eyes snapping, refusing to see her side. Then, even worse, those same eyes turning so cool and indifferent. His back as he turned away from her that last time, the door closing behind him. The empty suitcase she’d opened upon the bed and the first blouse she’d folded into it. Her eyes catching her image in the mirror, her expression closed and emotionless…

  Connie returned to the present. She resumed her hike and her story, sticking to facts, and forcing the feelings back behind her where they belonged.

  “We’re originally from San Diego. I still live there. He worked a lot of jobs, waiting for his break. He is good, you’ve seen him. But those early years were like limbo. We both knew there are a lot of talented people who never make it.” She paused, aware of her pride in Derek and his success. It was bittersweet and always would be.

  “Things finally started coming together for him in February. I teach school, and it was the middle of the academic year. He had to go to L.A., and that was a long commute even without traffic.” She laughed wryly. “Which never happens. There’s always traffic. Anyway, he wanted to move and assumed I’d go with him, right then and there. But I felt a commitment to the kids and wanted to finish out the school year. It didn’t seem right to abandon them if it wasn’t absolutely necessary, and it didn’t seem that crucial to me. We could share weekends, and I’d join him for good in June. I assumed he’d understand that I also had a career and commitments I wanted to honor, but...”

  “But he didn’t.”

  “No. All he saw was that I was letting him down when he needed me. It was a huge undertaking, he wanted my presence and support, and that was that. That took precedence over everything else.”

  When she fell silent, Max prompted, “Did you ever get to L.A.?”

  “Uh-huh, in June, as promised. But the distance between us by then…well, it already seemed too wide to bridge. At first, when he was in L.A. and I was in San Diego, we’d spend the weekends together, and then it became every other weekend, and then I only saw him once in May. Then, when I finally made the move, I had no commitments and plenty of time to devote to him.” She paused. “Too much time.”

  Her gut tightened with remembered tension that had been born out of need and bewilderment, guilt and regret, and was almost as potent now as then.

  “Too much time,” she repeated as she stepped over a fallen branch. “Which became a problem in itself. I was no longer part of his life. Since I hadn’t been involved in the beginning, there were people I didn’t know, events happening in which I wasn’t included. Demands were made upon him, and he worked irregular hours and was seldom at home. So I felt neglected and unwanted and misunderstood, and he still felt betrayed. There was no middle ground for either one of us.”

  A sore yearning for what they’d once had swept over her, tugging at her heart and sp
irit. Being forced together these last few days as they’d been, without the past rearing up between them, seemed to have brought the sweetness back and made the loss harder to bear. Then again she forced the emotion back.

  In the distance, she heard the sound of rushing water.

  She was careful to keep her feelings and voice in check as she wrapped up the story of the most significant years of her life. “Once we finally got together, it seemed we were already past the point of no return. And the distance just kept growing, inch by inch. We stuck it out for almost a year before finally admitting that the marriage was over. And once we did, when we actually talked about calling it quits, it was the first real conversation we’d had in a long time. It really was over.”

  She rounded a clump of foliage and the stream was before her. It was possibly only a foot or two at its deepest point, where it cascaded over a fallen log. At the bank near her feet it lapped gently, creating the peaceful, soothing sound only water can make. She breathed deeply, absorbing it with eyes, ears, and nose. Picture-pretty, constant yet tranquil, fresh clean scent.

  “Does that answer your question?” she asked at length, without looking at Max.

  She caught his nod, and then he said quietly, “Thank you for trusting me with it.”

  She’d been right to do so, because she felt better for it. He said nothing more, his gaze on the water, but she got the impression he was looking for a way to get her and Derek back together, just as she’d been searching for a way to get his comic book back. She lifted her gaze to the opposite bank, and then beyond to the tangle of growth and trees. It wasn’t going to happen. Reconciliation, nor, in all probability, the return of the comic book.

  They heard the kids’ commotion before they saw them. Seconds later, Christopher and Petey bounded out of the trees, followed at a more sedate pace by Derek. He and Max exchanged wary looks, but Derek appeared more subdued than volatile.

  “Petey and Moose guessed this was where you were.” He joined them at the water’s edge, standing next to Connie and putting her in the middle. His gaze moved upstream and down. “It’s pretty here.”

  Connie regarded him with uncertainty, but if he caught it, he didn’t react to it. He spoke around her to Max. “Petey and Chris were trying to talk us into taking them to a movie, but Moose thought you wanted to see Hayworth today.”

  Max nodded, appearing more resigned than resolved. “Yeah, gotta—” His head snapped toward the water. “Petey!”

  Following his gaze, Connie shouted, “Chris, don’t—”

  Too late. The boys had used rocks as stepping-stones to get to the log, and then tried to walk it, too. They each slipped off the instant they got a foot on it and landed with giant splashes on opposite sides of the limb. The rush of water was swift but fortunately not deep enough to pose a threat. They were stretched out full length, soaked from shoes to hair, but quickly their laughter announced that their bones were still intact.

  “Oh, sh—” Derek said, but managed to cut the word off without finishing it. “Kids,” he muttered. Then, “Okay, come on out of there,” he hollered. “I would’ve thought you had enough of that on Sunday, Chris.”

  But apparently it was a whole lot more fun falling into the water with a friend than with a fishing pole. The boys hooted with laughter, splashed each other, and as soon as either one got halfway upright, he fell right back down again.

  Connie broke into a grin. Their mood was infectious and she was tempted to join them, but Derek had already ordered them out. It was tough enough dealing with a five-year-old without splitting their forces, so she backed up to lean against a tree, folded her arms and let the men deal with the juveniles. Eventually the waterlogged duo managed to remain upright long enough to make it all the way onto dry land.

  “You should’ve done it,” Derek said with a sidelong glance at her.

  She gave him a quizzical look. “Done what?”

  “You wanted to join them. I would’ve followed you in, and it would’ve been fun.”

  “Uh-huh.” Her quick laugh rang out. “And then you would’ve made doggone sure I ended up more waterlogged than either of those boys.”

  His slow grin told her she was right. “Like I said, it would’ve been fun.”

  “Which would’ve left me the only dry, sane person around here,” Max said complacently. Herding Petey and Chris ahead of him, he said over his shoulder, “I’ll walk them back. You guys take your time and enjoy the place. Like you said, it’s pretty.”

  Derek watched thoughtfully until Max was out of sight. “Well, he’s certainly mellowed. They’ve still got the kids, but didn’t it occur to him we could find a phone and report them, then return as if nothing had happened?”

  “But we’re not going to,” she said indifferently. Then she gave him a sharp look. “I’m not. You’re not either, are you?”

  He appeared to study her. “From the expression on your face, if I said yes, I think you’d try to forcibly restrain me.”

  When she said nothing, he gave a quiet laugh. “Lighten up, Connie. For what it’s worth, I’m on their side, too.”

  “Well…good.” She looked at her feet, actually shuffled them in the grassy bank. “Well, I guess we should…”

  “Before we go, I want to apologize for this morning. I didn’t have it in mind to take advantage of you. Or the situation. I—”

  “Wasn’t awake either,” she finished for him.

  “No. Not until you flew out of bed. That woke me up with a jolt.”

  She managed a casual shrug. “Well, it happened. But it’s not a problem.” She turned to leave.

  “Yes, it is.”

  She turned back. “It is?”

  “Well, not exactly a problem,” he amended. “But I have been wanting to talk to you. For some time now.”

  A sudden and strong urge to draw in and protect herself kept her silent and watchful. Protect herself from him? From the past? Or the future?

  “I was going to ask Kristy for your number and give you a call.” Though he generally carried a self-assured air, both his eyes and manner now seemed tentative. He was no more sure of himself at this moment than she was. “What I’ve been thinking, is that I’d like for us to start seeing each other again. Dating again, if you want to call it that. I’ve had second thoughts, Connie. Maybe we were too quick to split.”

  She took a step back and saw him flinch at her move.

  “No.” She retreated no farther but shook her head. “No. That’s over and done with. It’s behind us. The marriage, divorce, everything. And it needs to stay there.”

  Although he heard her out, he didn’t respond to her speech. Instead he returned to his train of thought. “Judging from this morning’s episode, the spark’s still there.” He broke eye contact, possibly to give them both space. He stooped to pick up a pebble, snapped it out over the water as if to slide it, but it sank without skittering. “I’m not exactly asking you for a commitment, but neither do I think it’s too late for us. I just want you to think about it, that’s all.”

  “It ended, Derek,” she said flatly. “We have closure. It hurt enough then and I’m not signing on for more pain now.”

  Looking back at her, he gave her one slow nod of his head. “I hear you. And an apology isn’t good enough, I know, but it’s all I’ve got. I thought it over, time and again, and I realized I was punishing you. You weren’t there when I wanted you, and all I could think about was my own situation. Then when you made the final move, I was holding a grudge, just like a little kid. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry as hell I did that to you.”

  She took in a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I drew my own line in the sand and refused to cross it. I should’ve given you and your needs more consideration. And the truth is that I had an inkling, even then, that I might be sacrificing more than I wanted to. Yet I still didn’t back down. We’re equally guilty, Derek.”

  He picked up another pebble, tried again to skim it and got more mileage this time. Hi
s tight expression testified to how deeply in thought he was, and how strongly he felt. Connie watched him, the man whose name she’d taken and to whom she’d given her heart. She’d legally changed her last name back to Robertson after the divorce, but her heart would never again belong to her alone. And she wouldn’t want it to. The love, the union, had been there; she’d never give that up. But as much as she wished that what he was asking for was possible, she knew in her gut it wasn’t. How could one go back to the beginning and start the whole world over again?

  “What’s happened has happened,” she said quietly. The firmness she felt she also heard in her voice, and she supposed that it showed in her face. “And I’m as sorry as you are. But it’s over. We need to let it go.”

  “Do we?” His gaze returned to her. The green of his eyes made her think of a pool of water, calm and deep, undisturbed by current. “I’m not so sure about that,” he went on. “Maybe that’s the mistake we made in the first place. Letting go.”

  He gave her space to speak, but she didn’t. The timbre of his voice deepened. “I’ve got what I wanted, Connie, as far as my career is concerned. But there’s something missing. It took me a while, but I finally figured out that it was you.”

  Still Connie didn’t speak; she simply had no words. Though her resolve hadn’t actually lessened, she felt pulled two ways. It was like having two voices warring inside herself: hers and Derek’s, with his emotions and needs nearly as strong as her own. If either she or Derek had been capable of putting the other person first three years ago, they wouldn’t be where they were now. The realization felt like a knife cutting into her.

  “Sure, I’ve met other women,” he confessed, possibly misreading her silence. “But no one I want to look at twice. No one measures up to you. And I don’t think you’ve found anyone either. I would’ve heard about it from Kristy.”

  He got another stone, played toss and catch with it, and then again sought her eyes. “You’re right that we can’t go back to where we were before everything fell down around us. What’s happened has happened. But we haven’t lost it all, Connie. I don’t believe that. Just think about it, okay? That’s all I’m asking. Just think about it.”