Family Interrupted

by Barrett, Linda

  Rose nodded at the children waiting to make art. “You’ve got to pay attention to them right now. Talk to you later.”

  To my amazement, the hour flew by. The little ones needed constant help, and a handful of parents assisted. So maybe Jack was half right. Time went quickly when you stayed busy. But I thought “busy” wasn’t enough. You had to be doing something you liked, something meaningful.

  None of my regulars showed up. I hoped they were home and healthy this week.

  Rose was waiting for me at the nurses’ station. I followed her into a private office.

  “There’s no way to break it gently, Claire, so I’ll just say it. We lost Neil Schulman yesterday. His kidneys just gave out before a good match could be found for transplant.”

  “Neil! Oh, poor boy.” I blinked hard, but not hard enough.

  “I know he was special to you.”

  “Every child is special, Rose.” And that was the problem. Neil was my cartoon-drawing young artist. “How awful not to find a match.”

  “Yeah. A parent can often be a donor, but Neil was adopted. The family genetics were random and didn’t work out.”

  It made sense. “After I first meet the kids, I never think about them dying,” I whispered. “They get such great care, and everyone is always so positive. Maybe I believe there’s magic here.” Or maybe I was in denial.

  “I wish it were easier. We have to be upbeat or we wouldn’t survive. Sometimes, however, our humor can verge on the macabre. But it gets us through.”

  “Neil was a fighter,” I said. “His poor parents...” I flashed back to the weeks after Kayla died. How Jack and I had died too. Zombies. Without warning, I doubled over, arms wrapped around myself, a familiar pain piercing my stomach. Would Megan be next? Cystic Fibrosis wasn’t curable.

  I’d been delusional, pretending to be strong and making art with the children as I’d done with Kayla. Sure, I was trying to provide some happiness for the patients and an hour of diversion. But what was the true reason I’d taken this challenge on? To show Kayla I was...was...what? A good mommy after all? To earn her forgiveness?

  I couldn’t continue to fool myself. Despite the fabulous staff and medical miracles, every chronically ill youngster would not go on indefinitely when the shadow of death lingered. Jack and Anne had been right. I’d taken on more than I could handle.

  I grasped Rose’s hand. “I might need some time off.”

  “You’ve made a difference, Claire. Don’t forget that. And isn’t that the goal? To help the living?”

  “My husband agrees with you. But I think about my daughter all the time.”

  She patted my arm and leaned toward me. “One day you won’t. She’ll be nestled somewhere else inside you, and you’ll move on. You’re just not there yet. But with a little more time, you will be.”

  Maybe. Maybe not. I didn’t respond, but Rose didn’t seem to expect me to. She reached for an envelope instead.

  “These are some of Neil’s drawings that hung on the walls around here. I think you should have them. A remembrance of the good work you’ve done.”

  “He hardly needed me. I just gave him a few pointers.”

  “Well, you must have made an impression. He talked about you all the time. ‘Miss Claire is a real artist,’ he’d say.”

  A real artist.

  “Sounds like a professor I once knew—in another lifetime.” I took the envelope, promised to return to the unit at some point, and went home. I’d give the pictures to Neil’s family. I had Kayla’s, and his work belonged to his parents.

  Chapter 26

  CLAIRE

  Saturday night

  A cheerful place, Casa Olé was dressed in funky, garish décor. Red, yellow, and green plastic chili peppers were strung everywhere, and exotic orange and blue murals covered the walls. Not my usual taste but great for a party. I’d even asked for a large parrot piñata to hang from the ceiling because a celebration should have games to keep it lively—not that the margaritas couldn’t do it by themselves. The aromas wafting across the room promised a fine meal, but I knew I’d barely nibble. My mind was on the main event—Kayla’s portrait.

  Guests had started to arrive, and I noticed Jack standing near the door, handsome and trim. Forty-eight looked good on him. I watched him shake hands, smile, do a little back slapping. I recognized the gestures and knew he’d say all the right words. A successful businessman had to be good with words. And tonight, Jack seemed happy, happy enough to be in his Cracker Jack frame of mind. His good humor gave me hope that all would go as planned, and I felt a smile emerge and morph into a wide grin.

  Maybe we were still perfectly matched. Maybe we would come out of this crisis. I thought Girl Exalted would not only help but would be the key to a new beginning. Of course, Jack had thought the same about passing the first anniversary of Kayla’s death. Did anyone have the right answers?

  Approaching me at a fast clip, Jack said, “Love that smile. Keep it up.” He kissed me on the mouth before walking to another table of friends. Then the restaurant door opened, and it was my turn to greet the visitors. Judy and Charles entered.

  “I’m glad you came,” I said.

  “We’re still sisters. And always will be. Besides, a twenty-fifth is something to celebrate. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

  I kissed her and Charles, pushing away all thoughts of Sarah Levine. The woman had nothing to do with tonight, or with my expectations of renewal.

  Judy spotted our folks, and I followed her to their table.

  “Claire, honey,” said my dad. “I want to know where my grandson is. Haven’t seen him in too long.”

  And suddenly six pairs of eyes rested on me, waiting for a response. Oh, God. I couldn’t remember what Ian had told me. Was I supposed to call him back? Had I remembered to call him at all? My good spirits vanished.

  “I’ll ask Jack,” I said, pointing at the man two tables away.

  Moments later, I reached for his hand but addressed his companions. “Mind if I borrow him for a moment?”

  “Do you still want him after twenty-five years?” That voice came from my cousin, Marilyn, always a gentle teaser. “Go, go, mingle,” she said with a quick gesture of her hands.

  I dragged Jack outside. “Ian. Did you speak with Ian? I can’t remember if I did, if I called him.” My last words hit high notes that startled me.

  “Sure, I spoke with him, but you know how he’s been with us lately.”

  Us? I’d thought it was just with me. “What do you mean?”

  “For God’s sake, Claire. Wake up. He’s drawn a sharp line in the sand concerning us. He didn’t promise to come.” He started pacing. “I don’t know what he’s up to any more than you do. Maybe if you’d speak with him more regularly, pay him some more attention...?”

  I tuned him out and scanned the street in both directions. Nothing. “Call him now, Jack, on your cell. He might be on his way.”

  Cars doors slammed, and I went to greet our latest guests, leaving Jack to his assignment.

  JACK

  “Sorry, Dad. I thought I told you I’d be tied up tonight. But give my love to the grands...and to Mom.”

  “I don’t remember that.” But I wasn’t surprised. Simply disappointed. “Your grandparents feel abandoned. This is important, Ian. Can’t you postpone whatever you’re doing?” Fat chance. My good-looking kid was probably with a girl, probably anticipating a roll in the hay, and nothing was more important at nineteen than getting laid. “Look, if you’ve got a date, just bring her along. There’s plenty of food and beer.”

  “I’m really sorry, Dad. I can’t get away tonight. Can you just tell the folks I’m working overtime and the money’s good? The plant operates around the clock. Tell them and they’ll understand.”

  But I didn’t. The plant, the plant, the plant. Had Ian’s job become the most important part of his life? A pipefitter instead of a college student? I wanted him at the university with his friends. I wanted him
learning the business and finance end from the get-go, not like me who attended night school while working full-time in the trades, struggling with the debit and credit side later. If Ian studied finance, he could talk to bankers in their own language as soon as he took over the business.

  Instead of college or Barnes Construction, he’d chosen the refinery. It wasn’t about the money. His disappearance from the family stemmed back to the accident. Was he really working overtime tonight, or was he simply continuing to avoid us?

  “Don’t be surprised if Mom calls you back,” I said.

  The silence on the other end of the line preceded the quiet click, and Ian was gone. Disconnected. I stared at my cell. Disconnected—a perfect description. We’d each disconnected from one another. Mentally, emotionally, physically. I knew it. Claire knew it too. And Ian had made his choice clear. Sometimes, when I let my guard down, when I allowed myself to think about what happened to my family, I wanted to howl. Instead, I popped an antacid.

  Despite my disappointments, however, I still had hope. I’d been called a cockeyed optimist many times in my life. With Claire in such a good mood tonight, we had a chance to reconnect, to communicate, and rekindle the flame after twenty-five years. Of course, I had to deliver the bad news about Ian’s no-show, but my heart was light as I entered the restaurant.

  Chapter 27

  IAN

  Same night

  After I hung up on my dad, I shoved the phone in my pocket and just stared into space. I saw nothing but heard Dad’s words. He’d said to bring a date. That was almost funny enough to make me laugh. I knew he wanted me back, but I couldn’t do it. No matter how many times I went over it in my head, I always came back to the same conclusion: I’d had to strike out on my own in order to survive. Kayla had died. I’d thrown the ball. Ergo, my fault. According to my mother. Not that she quite said it like that....

  Whatever.

  I ambled to the bedroom doorway and glanced at my sleeping daughter. Two months old. It seemed like two years. Colleen had been right about a few things. I really hadn’t known anything about babies. The crying, feeding, and checking on every minute. Thank God I hadn’t dropped her. In the beginning, I’d practiced holding her while sitting on the bed. Then I made Colleen walk next to me around the apartment while I carried Tina in my arms.

  I bought one of those disposable cameras, and now a picture of Tina was in my wallet, along with the one of Kayla, the only family picture I’d brought from Bluebonnet Drive.

  Yawning wide several times, I couldn’t believe how tired I was. I still didn’t understand how one little baby could cause so much work. She took short naps rather than long sleeps. Which meant I napped more than I slept even though Colleen had night duty, or was supposed to. Colleen slept deep. I slept light. She reminded me often that she was the one who’d been pregnant forever and given birth and had a right to be tired. Well, maybe so, but for how long? The best answer would be for Tina to sleep through the night. But when would that happen?

  But she was so darn cute, so perfect, and I loved her so much! I walked closer to the crib, wanting to kiss her soft, rounded cheek, but checked myself against waking her. I back-stepped, returned to the living room, and reached for the baby-care book I’d picked up at the used bookstore. I dropped onto the couch, stretched until my feet dangled over the opposite arm, and started to read about sleep patterns. My own eyes closed within minutes, and I thought about Colleen at the local karaoke club and the fight we had before she left.

  She’d written a couple of new country songs and wanted to try them out. “There’s nothing like performing for real, live folks to see what works and what doesn’t.”

  “I understand that, you know I do. But why tonight? I’m tired. I may fall asleep and not hear her.”

  “Then don’t lie down. How will I ever get to Nashville if I don’t sing my new songs?”

  She could be damn stubborn when she had something at stake. “It’s not happening tomorrow, Colleen. Be reasonable.”

  “I am reasonable. Tina’s got two of us, and tonight she’s got you. It’s your turn, Daddy.”

  “And does she have a daycare next week?”

  “No!” She grabbed her guitar and left the house.

  Crap. Colleen was expected back at work on Monday. So now what? Finding a daycare was falling on me too. Did I have to manage everything around here?

  And then it hit me. Maybe I did. Maybe I’d have to be the adult because Colleen, despite her career ambitions—or because of them—was still a girl. I was still crazy about her, but...well, if that’s the way it was, then I’d have to do whatever it took.

  Tomorrow was Sunday. Maybe I could scout around and ask a neighbor to babysit. And pay her, of course. Or maybe Colleen should quit her job, and I’d take double shifts.

  And Dad wanted me to bring a date to the anniversary party. If he could see me with my Saturday night “date,” he’d laugh. If I weren’t so tired, I’d laugh too.

  COLLEEN

  I held the last note of my second number almost to infinity, and when I finally took a breath and smiled, the awesome silence in the Roadhouse Café turned into raise-the-roof applause. And a standing ovation. What a rush! Nothing could compare to the high of performing one of my own songs for a crowd who got it. Nothing was better than this, not Ian, not even the baby, although she was a close second.

  The shout-outs were sending goosebumps up my arms. I smiled and waved. I could have sung for an hour, but I turned the mic over to the next person on the program. On Saturday, the open mic was by invitation only, and I couldn’t hog it up, no matter how much I wanted to. I’d missed performing after Tina was born; I missed it as deeply as I’d miss the sun if night took over the world. Writing songs and singing them was what I was meant to do.

  “This one’s on the house, little lady. ”Behind the bar, Ted Willis slid a longneck at me. “You’re singing better than ever. Maybe the baby’s a good influence, or maybe it’s the baby’s daddy.” The old-timer waggled his bristly eyebrows, and I chuckled, even though his words shot a familiar pang of guilt through me.

  Ian was the best. A great guy. Loving. Sweet. And he’d offered me a home when I’d needed it. I owed him. But...Such a big word for three little letters. But. It had the power to make my tongue freeze, and what I couldn’t say in real life, I guess I put into my songs.

  I chose to linger at the bar, nursing my beer, postponing Ian, postponing Tina and the small apartment where the shiniest piece of furniture was the crib. My dreams far outreached the pokey East Texas town I’d come from. They outreached the helpless baby who needed me every minute of the day and night, and certainly outreached the day-in, day-out routine of the refinery where I had to return, if I could stand it.

  I wanted a whole bushel more than I had now. The Grand Old Opry. American Idol. I knew I had the talent and drive. I was as good as Kellie Pickler. Even better. And now Pickler had released albums and earned a whole lot of money. Best of all, the young country star didn’t have to depend on daddies or boyfriends or anyone but herself to make it in this world. That’s just what I wanted too. Was that so awful? Too bad Ian wasn’t a musician. Then both of us could just take a bus to Tennessee.

  “Hey, Colleen,” called Ted. “Here’s someone who wants to meet you.”

  I woke from my thoughts and saw a man slip up next to me but not too close. He handed me a card: Roger Smiley, Talent Scout. From a music producer based in Nashville.

  “I liked what I heard, Ms. Murphy,” he said. “You’ve got promise in those pipes. And Ted, here, says you often sing your own stuff, and they’re as good as the one you sang tonight.”

  Taken by surprise, I could only nod my head and whisper, “Yes. Yes. I write a lot of songs and sing them here. To try them out. And if you don’t believe me, I’ve got notebooks to prove it.” He smiled like he thought I was a dumb country bunny. And I had to admit I sounded like one.

  “I believe you, Ms. Murphy. Ever make a demo?”
>
  I shook my head. “Never had the funds, but I always had it in my mind to do it.”

  “Well, it’s probably cheaper to do it in the heart of country music. In fact, my company will back a demo if I recommend it.”

  He looked at me straight on, like he wanted this dumb bunny to understand. “I don’t often make those recommendations,” he said, “but there are exceptions. You’d be one of them. So, when and if you get to Nashville, look me up. Or if you cut a demo here, send it to me first. You’ve got something going on.” He slipped his card into my hand. “Remember, me first.”

  “Oh, I will, Mr. Smiley. I surely will. And I’ll get there. You’ll see.”

  The man stayed with me until the next singer finished then met my eye and gently shook his head. “That one misses long and wide.”

  I agreed with him. I really tried to be as objective as I could when listening to other singers, but in this case, I had to say he was right. “I’ll keep your card safe, Mr. Smiley. Count on it.”

  “That’s just what I wanted to hear.” He got up, lifted his broad-brimmed felt hat, and said, “Till the next time.”

  I watched him walk away and felt Ted staring at me. The bartender kept up with everything going on.

  “What ya make of him, Colleen?”

  “You tell first.”

  “I’m thinking he’s got a bit of snake oil on him to ease the way, but he’s serious about discovering a diamond in the rough. He’s a legit scout in the business. I looked him up on the computer while he was talkin’ to you. Him and his company.”

  “Why, Ted Willis. You’re watching out for me.” I felt good about that. He acted like a real dad would.

  “You bet I am. I discovered you first!”

  Floating high on praise and promise, I got into my old car, while reality started sinking in. Once again, I wondered how I wound up doing everything backwards.

  Chapter 28

  CLAIRE

  Same night

  At Casa Olé

  I knew it was a great party when I started to relax. The noise level, laughter, dancing, as well as the eating and drinking, were echoes from a former life. It had been a long time between parties. A long time since our friends gathered with us in celebration of anything. Only Ian’s absence dampened the mood for me.