A Family Affair: The Return

by Mary Campisi

  “I’m not that guy.” He jabbed a finger against his chest. “When I make a commitment, I keep it.”

  “Good for you, but excuse me if I wonder what commitment you’ve made in the past twenty years? How about to a job? A woman? A place to call home?” She raised a brow, waited, and when he didn’t respond, said, “That’s what I thought. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get dressed.” She moved past him toward the chest of drawers that held her clothes.

  “I committed to you,” he said in a quiet voice. She swung around, eyed him with a mix of shock and confusion. “I committed to you, Grace. All those years ago, but you weren’t interested. You thought you’d find someone better. More suitable.” He let the rest of the truth slip out. “But I knew I’d never find anybody like you.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, her lips trembled. “I…”

  Max held up a hand to stop her. Guess that was just a little too much honesty for her. “I get it. No problem. How about we knock out the rest of the list in the next few days and then I’ll make myself scarce until the thirty-day mark?” He should have known he wouldn’t be able to see her again without wanting to touch her, without hoping for a different outcome this time around.

  And he sure as hell should have known she’d reject him and his offer—again.

  * * *

  “How do you like playing house with Mr. Hunk?”

  Leave it to her sister to comment on exactly what Grace wanted to ignore. Typical Jenny. If there were an elephant in the room, she’d drag it out, study it, and give her opinion, unlike Grace who would pretend it didn’t exist. Grace clutched the phone, erased the emotion from her voice and said, “Everything’s fine.” That was so not true, but she had to make Jenny believe it was or the interrogations would start.

  “I’ll bet.” Laughter spilled through the phone line, grabbed at Grace. “Are you two still dancing around the niceties, or have things gotten deeper? A kiss maybe?” She paused, lowered her voice, “Or more?”

  Oh, yes, there’d been more…much more. The thought of how much more pinched her brain. She’d been foolish enough to think what they’d shared last night could be the beginning of something special, but then morning came and with it Max’s ex-fiancée and the string of lies he’d told her. Grace could have accepted the ex-fiancée who wasn’t quite over him, but the references to a penthouse, a boat, and a lifestyle he pretended were his? Well, that was too much. Lies on top of lies. It was no better than Grant’s vows to remain faithful and just as untrustworthy. Why couldn’t Max have been different? Why did he have to prove that most men couldn’t be trusted, and to open your heart to a man like Max, was not only dangerous but foolish?

  “Grace? I was just kidding…”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been busy and I’m really tired.” Busy? That was a joke. She’d been sitting in Aunt Frances’s overstuffed chair most of the day, attempting to piece together what had happened this morning. She’d had a lot of time to think since Max had left after their argument and still hadn’t returned. He did leave a note in the kitchen, though: one line that said nothing. Heading out, we’ll continue with the list in the morning. M. What did that mean? Why had he bothered to write the note? Was it politeness, or did he want her to know just how much he didn’t want to be anywhere near her?

  “I can see you’re not in a talkative mood, so…”

  “I’m sorry. Why don’t you let me say hello to the girls?”

  Jenny paused, and Grace pictured her younger sister on the other end of the line: pregnant, beautiful, happy. “You know I’m always here for you, Grace. No matter what time, you just call me.”

  “I know.” Jenny had become the dependable one these past few years, and her husband was a huge part of that. “Thank you.”

  “Welcome.” Another pause. “You deserve to be happy, Grace, even if that happiness scares you. Don’t run from it. Remember how petrified I was of getting involved with a man like Elliot? Nobody would have pictured me as a stepmom, but here I am, and I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

  “I’m really happy for you, Jenny.”

  “Yeah, me, too. Now let me get the girls so they can tell you about the chocolate chip cookies we made.” She laughed. “Your sister is getting domesticated, one chore at a time.”

  As Grace waited to talk to the girls, she glanced at her watch. Seven-twenty. Where was Max? Maybe he’d hunted down Leanne, the ex-fiancée with the can-do attitude who was willing to do anything to get another chance with him. Or maybe he’d found one of the other overly willing women in town to spend time with—ones who wouldn’t hurl accusations or expectations at him.

  They’d give him anything and everything he wanted.

  I committed to you, Grace. All those years ago, but you weren’t interested. You thought you’d find someone better. More suitable… But I knew I’d never find anybody like you. The expression on his face had been filled with misery when he’d spoken, and it was that expression that haunted her, made her wonder if she’d misjudged him.

  Grace listened to her daughters’ tales of cooking with Aunt Jenny and “feeling the baby in her belly.” Her younger daughter had lulled her to a calm, relaxing state, but that all changed with Natalie’s next question. “Will you ever get another baby in your belly?”

  Before Grace could find the words to answer, her older daughter piped in with adult-like authority. “Of course not,” Danielle said in a not-soft voice. “Mom doesn’t even have a boyfriend, and you need one of those to do that.”

  “How do you know Mom doesn’t have a boyfriend?” Natalie asked, her eight-year-old brain tossing out the possibility.

  Big sigh. “Because, she doesn’t.” Pause. “And she doesn’t want one either.”

  “How do you know she doesn’t want one? Maybe she wants to go on a date, like Mrs. Foster. Daddy’s in heaven so he can’t go on dates with her anymore.”

  At eleven, Danielle had no patience for her little sister and her ideas. “Natalie, you are such an idiot.”

  Grace closed her eyes, rubbed her left temple. “Girls, that’s enough. No name-calling.”

  “Yeah, no name-calling, Bratty.”

  “Natalie, that’s enough. Do I have to tell Aunt Jenny and Uncle Elliot to take away TV for a week, because if this keeps up, that’s what’s going to happen.”

  “No,” they both chimed in.

  “Okay, then. I want you both to get along. Aunt Jenny doesn’t need you two fighting with each other.”

  “Sorry,” Natalie said. And then, “When can we see your aunt’s house? Aunt Jenny said it’s haunted.”

  Jenny’s voice echoed from the background. “I did not say that…”

  “She said there’s an old attic with all kinds of stuff up there, and secrets, too.” Her small voice filled the line with excitement and awe. “I want to see the secrets.”

  “There are no secrets there.” This from Danielle, who could have been Grace at that age—so serious, so unable to accept dreams and possibilities.

  “Uh-huh,” Natalie fought back. She was Jenny in miniature. Open to adventure, mystery, magic—life. “But I think the ghost is in the basement.” She paused and Grace pictured her daughter scrunching up her nose like she did when she couldn’t figure something out. “Or is it in the garage? Didn’t you say there’s a ghost in the house and Mommy has to find him?”

  Grace shook her head. The child had an imagination. “Him?”

  “Yeah. Him. Aunt Jenny gave him a name, too. Max.”

  That comment put Jenny back on the phone and finding excuses to finish the conversation—fast. I think Elliot’s calling me. Gotta go. Love you. Talk soon. Click. So, Jenny thought Grace needed to confront a ghost named Max… She couldn’t be more right about that one. As she sat in the darkness, she thought about what happened today. She’d flat-out lied to Max about her feelings for him. But most of all, she’d lied to herself.

  Why had she spoken to him that way, held her expression so still he’d ha
ve no choice but to believe the words? Was it to hurt him? To protect herself? Maybe to test him? There were too many questions and no true answers. When she’d told Max their night together was a long time coming and better forgotten, it had been a horrible lie. How would she ever forget that night, his touch, the way he gave her hope for a future together? But when his ex-fiancée appeared and began talking about boats and penthouses and implications of a moneyed lifestyle, Grace knew Max was living a lie. Why had he done it? Who was the real Max Ruhland? Was he the kind, gentle man who listened to her, made her laugh, made her believe in second chances? That Max didn’t care about money or a fancy lifestyle. That one wore faded jeans, T-shirts, and drove a Chevelle. The Max his ex-fiancée talked about sounded very much like Grant.

  So, what happened now?

  She’d burned whatever chance she had with Max by the cruel accusations she’d hurled at him. And by denying her true feelings for him. Oh, she’d protected herself, but at what cost? He still hadn’t returned, and who knew what he was doing right now or with whom?

  Tomorrow they’d have to face each other and continue with the list. Would they pretend nothing had happened between them, not the night together or the argument? Could they do that? Maybe he could, but could she? Her stomach jumped and roiled as she pictured what that might look like. She’d pretended before with her husband, moving on as though he hadn’t had a girlfriend, as though they were still the same couple, living the same life as before.

  But they weren’t. Everything changed after the first affair, even if Grace refused to admit it. She’d wanted that white picket fence fairytale so much she’d ignored the truth. Grant was a serial cheater, and he didn’t do well with day-to-day living. It was the new and dangerous—women and affairs—that excited him. Grace had accepted his promises of commitment and fidelity and pretended they meant something. What did that say about her?

  And Max? She’d slept with him, found peace and comfort in his bed…and she wanted to be with him again. Maybe Aunt Frances really believed they’d get a second chance. But how could Grace accept him for the person he was, a drifter without attachments, who didn’t worry about his next meal or how to pay the rent?

  She had two daughters who needed a role model, not some woman full of insecurities and distrust. There were less than two weeks left in the house, and then what? Would Max want to be part of her life, part of her daughters’ lives? Would he enjoy eating popcorn on Saturday nights and watching children’s movies? How long before the itch to leave stole him away? A man like Max had never been part of the plan, but maybe that kind of man deserved a chance, or maybe she deserved a chance to see if they could make it.

  But what about him? Could he trust her enough to open his heart? She sat back, massaged her temples as the beginning of a headache threatened. For once in her well-organized life, could she trust her gut and her heart, and ignore the rules she’d lived by her entire life?

  Or was it too late?

  If she and Max had nothing else and their future together led nowhere, could they not have these next few days for her to remember?

  14

  “What’s going on between you and my sister?”

  So, this was Jenny Romano Drake, the sister with the wild streak, the one who’d settled down and married the psychologist, became a stepmother, and had a baby on the way. Grace had called her easy going, fun-loving, and compassionate, but right now she didn’t sound like any of those. She sounded like a warrior on the hunt, and he was the hunted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Something’s going on with you and Grace, and I want to know what it is.”

  A gigantic sigh filled the phone line. Or was that sound supposed to be a threat? Right. “Sorry, can’t help you.” The sister was so far off base it was laughable.

  “Are you using her?”

  The long pause said she expected an answer. “No.”

  The questions and accusations continued, coated with a ticked-off-and-not-happy attitude. “Did you sleep with my sister to fulfill some teenage fantasy, and now you’ve gone and dumped her?”

  The woman was like a damn fly, buzzing around and annoying the crap out of him. One good swat at those accusations should take care of her pesky questions, but he had to be cautious about it. If her husband was a psychologist, then Grace’s sister might know what to listen for and how to pick out meanings in words. “What did Grace tell you?”

  “Grace isn’t talking but you’re going to, Max Ruhland. And if you hurt her, I swear I am going to come right to Magdalena and—”

  He should keep his mouth shut, and he tried to, but the words and the anger slipped out. “Is that what she told you? That I hurt her?”

  “Like I said, Grace isn’t talking, so it’s up to me to figure it out myself, and I’m going to, you can count on that.”

  “Yeah, well good luck with that one because I haven’t figured it out either.”

  “What does that mean?”

  What the hell. “I’m saying Grace only wants to believe what’s convenient for her to believe.”

  Pause, followed by a quiet, “Care to expand on that?”

  “Sure, why not?” He sipped his beer, kicked out his legs on the ottoman, and settled in for a “chat” with Grace’s sister. He had a lot of time because Grace had left a note that she’d be dining out with friends. “Have you ever known someone who says and does everything right? And I mean sainthood level? They do what others expect of them, never ask questions or voice an opinion. Nope, they just sit on the sidelines of this damn existence they call life and let everyone else have the fun and make the decisions. They’d give up their own piece of birthday cake if someone else wanted it. Who does that?”

  He closed his eyes and let more words spill out. “Of course, they don’t really want to do it. Hell no. They want to eat the whole cake, but if they do, people will call them greedy and selfish, and they need the accolades and the gold stars. It’s a high for them, and it becomes their oxygen. By the time they realize what they’re doing, it’s too late to change. They might try, but they get smacked down fast. Maybe a mother accuses them of irresponsibility, or a husband gets angry because he’s got to babysit so she can enroll in that pottery class she’s been dying to take. The mother spreads guilt, the husband bitches, and that’s the end of trying to change. It’s definitely the end of BS talk about pottery classes.”

  “Or choosing the prom dress she really wants because her mother tells her not to be ridiculous.”

  Had Grace’s mother said that? “Right,” Max agreed. “And she’s not strong enough to stand up for herself, because she’s built her whole friggin’ life around doing what she thinks people expect of her, what she thinks will get her the most applause.”

  “What she thinks she should,” Jenny said in a quiet voice. “Because she doesn’t know any other way.”

  “But when she’s disappointed with the results, or life goes wrong for her, and it will, she’s hurt and wonders how any of this could have happened when she’s done everything she was supposed to according to her plan.”

  “A plan she’s created and followed for years.”

  “Yeah. That plan.” The one that didn’t include him. “She wonders how her life could have ended upside down, on top of her actually, but what she doesn’t realize is that she’s done it to herself by letting others dictate who she is…by never taking the damn chance.”

  “No free-falling, no trusting your intuition,” Jenny said. “She doesn’t even know where she went wrong, or how to fix it, because she can’t figure out what’s real anymore.”

  True words. Max took a long pull on his beer, cradled the bottle in his lap, and went on, “So, she’s forced to return to Magdalena and the guy she wants to forget she ever knew, but she’s still lying to herself and everybody else. She hooks up with the idiot fool who still believes in second chances and she uses him, makes him believe they can have a life together.” He dragged a hand through his hair, thoug
ht of the night they spent together, the unspoken words, the desire and need they’d shared.

  “Then she freezes him out because his ex-fiancée shows up and comes on to him. He’s not interested in the ex-fiancée; hell, he can’t even see her because all he sees is Grace. But no, Grace can’t accept that. She wants him to pay, accuses him of lying, and when he tells her to believe in him a little while longer, she refuses. And you know what she does? She pretends none of what they shared ever happened.” Anger and despair seeped into his words. “She pretends none of it meant anything.”

  “But it did; we both know it did.” Jenny’s voice softened as if she were talking about one of those chick-flick movies where the couple beats all odds and winds up together in a sticky-sweet ending.

  “Right.” Try pulling that truth from Grace. Not happening.

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “Do? I’m going to observe, that’s what I’m going to do. This is Grace’s choice now. I’m tired of chasing her, tired of trying to make her believe we belong together. I know we do, but not if she wants to make me into someone I’m not. Your sister ditched me because she wanted a guy with money and status, and when that didn’t work out for her, she blamed me for her unhappiness. She used me, Jenny.” He clutched the phone in his hand. “And now she’s decided she doesn’t need me. Who knows? Maybe it was just a sexual thing; maybe I was the fantasy she wanted to live out.”

  “You can’t give up on her, Max. She needs you, even if she doesn’t know that herself yet.”

  “Yeah, she needs me all right.”

  “I’m serious. Grace has lived her whole life doing what everyone wants and not listening to herself because she’s afraid she’ll screw up. That’s no life, Max.” Her voice dipped, filled the line. “I saw you that night when you drove to our house. It was painful to watch and yet I couldn’t stop. You loved her… I don’t think you ever stopped loving her, and that’s why you could never commit to anyone. But what you don’t know, what only I know, is that Grace loved you too, even if she’s spent her whole life denying it. She cried that night and couldn’t eat for five days. Our mother didn’t know what was wrong. She blamed it on college jitters, but I knew it wasn’t that. It was you.” Pause. “I … found her notebook…”