by Diane Darcy
Jessica gave her a fake smile. “Why, hello, Mother. Nice to see you today. How are you doing?”
Melissa arched a brow. She couldn’t do anything right with Jessica anymore. She nodded, acknowledging the rudeness, then attempted a smile. “Hello, Jessica. How was school today?”
Jessica smiled, shoving her hands into her back pockets. “School was great. We had a drug bust.”
Melissa winced. She’d prefer to enroll Jessica in a private school, but her husband and Jessica both insisted on public. An old argument and one she didn’t have time for right now. She turned her attention to Jessica’s black jeans, ragged, with holes gaping in knees and thighs. “What are you wearing?”
“They’re called jeans, Mother.”
“What happened to the outfit I brought you yesterday?”
Jessica shrugged.
Ignoring the spear of hurt, Melissa groped for something to say, somehow feeling that Jessica waited to hear something, but not sure what. “Are you going to self-defense class with me tomorrow night?”
Jessica shrugged again. “Nope. I’ve got plans.”
“Jessica. You need to learn self-defense. What if something happened at that school of yours? You need to be able to defend yourself.”
Jessica snorted. “What for? If anything happens, I’ll just mention your name. If they know you, they’ll run screaming in terror. Besides, sometimes I think it would be a relief to you if something did happen to me.”
Melissa’s mouth fell open, surprise and hurt rushing through her. She closed her mouth, took a breath and let her face go blank, something she’d learned to do long ago as a child. “How can you say that?”
Jessica stared her straight in the eyes. “Very easily.”
Melissa took a deep breath. “Jessica, I do love you.”
Jessica nodded. “Yeah right, Mom. Keep saying it and someone might believe it.”
Pain, strong and sharp, speared Melissa. Jessica had no idea what a bad mother was. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You figure it out. Are we done bonding yet? I’ve got things to do.”
Melissa waved a hand at her.
Jessica stood for a moment, staring. “Did you know you have grass in your hair?” She turned and headed up the stairs.
Melissa put a hand to her hair and brushed at it. Grass fell onto the floor. She watched as Jessica ran up the stairs. What had happened to the sweet girl who used to race to hug her when she got home from work? How could she parent a child who pushed her away? She might not spend a lot of time with her daughter; with Melissa’s schedule, that was impossible. But she did try to spend quality time. Like with the self-defense classes. But if Jessica wouldn’t go, what was she supposed to do?
Still feeling weak, Melissa leaned against the wall and pushed away feelings she didn’t want, or have time, to examine. At twelve, Jessica was just at that age and hormones were probably messing with her mind.
Perhaps Melissa would make her another new outfit; some jeans with buckles and studs and a Victorian blouse; maybe that would make Jessica feel better.
Melissa turned toward the den. Right now, with life so hectic, that was about all Melissa could be expected to do while she waited for Jessica to grow out of the phase.
Melissa pushed herself away from the wall and stumbled slightly. She sighed. She didn’t have time to feel shaky. She needed to find Richard and talk to him. He’d been angry on the phone, and if she were honest, she’d admit it bothered her. Richard never got angry and so she was, well, not nervous exactly, but concerned. Obviously she’d failed to make him understand the impossible time crunch she was under at work; how stressed out she was.
Melissa walked into the den and saw Jeremy’s light brown hair peeking over the top of the sofa as he lounged back, watching the news, which struck her as strange. He never watched the news; at least not that she was aware of. Richard was nowhere in sight.
She turned to leave, but thought better of it. She ought to parent a bit first. With a sigh, she walked forward, slightly wary about her reception. “Hi.”
Jeremy glanced up. “Hi, Mom.” His voice seemed normal and Melissa was relieved. If he’d been upset with her earlier, it didn’t show now. At least one of her kids wasn’t holding a grudge against her.
His gaze returned to the television and she looked to see what fascinated him. The news. Boring stuff for a kid: financial reports, Dow Jones, etc. Information he’d never shown an interest in before.
“What are you watching?”
“Shh.” Without looking at her he lifted a hand into the air to silence her. “Here it comes.”
Melissa glanced back at the TV. A weatherman came on and as his cheesy grin lit up the screen, her eyes narrowed. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was the same man she’d seen earlier in the day.
“Okay, folks, here’s the interview you’ve been waiting for. We’ll go to Barbara Smithy, live, out in a field on Old Post Road where she has Abe Collins with her, and the blue moon shining down on them. Abe has an interesting story to tell. It seems during the last blue moon, Abe traveled through time. But he’s back with us now and ready to tell his story. Barbara?”
A pretty blonde, early thirties or so, white teeth flashing, appeared onscreen. But it was the man beside her that demanded attention. Wild-eyed and of indeterminate age, he sported a long gray beard, and what looked like a toga and an Indian Chief headpiece, complete with multicolored feathers.
Melissa snorted before she could stop herself and Jeremy laughed up at her, brown eyes sparkling as he shared the joke.
The reporter’s smile never wavered. “Thank you, Jay. I’m here with Abe Collins, on the very spot from which he claims he traveled back through time. What do you think, Abe? Any time portals about to open for us here tonight? Tell us your story.” She placed the microphone in front of his face.
Abe puffed out his chest importantly. “I was here on this very spot three years ago during the last blue moon. I got dizzy and sick, and the moon started to call to me.” He raised both hands to the moon and performed some sort of sign language. “It called and called and called my name. The next thing I knew, I was two hundred years in the past and living with a tribe of Ute Indians.”
Barbara smiled condescendingly. “I see. And do you have any proof that this experience occurred? Did anyone notice you’d gone missing?”
Abe looked affronted. “Time works in mysterious ways. Another blue moon returned me to the same day I left so no one noticed I’d been gone.”
Barbara tilted her head. “So, you have no evidence whatsoever?”
Abe bristled. “You don’t believe me? Well then, how do you explain this?” He quickly ripped open his toga to reveal a series of scars across his chest. Then, with a quick jerky motion he ripped the entire toga off and was left wearing what looked to be a diaper. Or, if Melissa wasn’t mistaken, a pair of adult Depends underpants.
Jeremy let out a whoop of laughter, and even Melissa couldn’t hold back a chuckle, especially when she got a good look at Barbara’s panicky, mortified face.
Melissa smirked. “When news reports go bad.”
Jeremy laughed. “Yeah, big time.”
Barbara’s slack lips firmed on screen. “I see. Uh, well, can you tell us anything else?” She was obviously trying to rally.
Abe’s eyes narrowed as he looked directly into the camera. “Yes. Living in the past isn’t for everyone. Only the strongest can survive. So beware! Beware! Lock your loved ones up and keep yourselves safe! Stay out of the moonlight! The vibrations are very powerful tonight!” With that, he slapped Barbara on the butt, grinned when she squealed and jumped, then he ran a few feet away and started doing what looked to be an intricate dance while looking up at the blue moon and screaming, “Take me! Take me back! Here I am! Come and get me!”
The camera swung back to Barbara who looked positively sick through her not-so-flashy smile. “Uh--”
Abe appeared behind her on camera again, waving his
arms wildly. “Hey look at me! I’m out standing in my field! Get it? Outstanding in my field? Whooo hoooo!” He ran off camera once more.
Barbara motioned frantically to the camera man and when the camera zoomed in on her face, tried a smile. “Wow! Uh...well, there you have it. This is Barbara Smithy, with KTLA weather. Back to you, Jay.”
The meteorologist looked embarrassed and chuckled nervously before launching into the weather report.
Melissa turned to Jeremy. “Hmm. Very interesting. Apparently it’s amateur night on KTLA.”
Jeremy laughed, jumped up and disconnected a USB Cable from the digital video recorder. “I got it all on my laptop. I’m going to ask if we can watch it before I give my presentation at school. Think they’ll let me?”
Melissa shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
Jeremy expression turned wary and he tucked his laptop under his arm and flipped some hair away from his eyes. “Are you ready to see my presentation now?”
“Outside?”
Jeremy nodded. “It’s all set up in the backyard.”
Melissa hesitated. As funny and weird as Abe Collins was, she couldn’t help the fear skittering up her spine at the thought of going outside and into the moonlight. “I really have a lot of work to do tonight--”
”But your mother will be glad to do her work after she watches your presentation. Right, Melissa?”
As Richard’s deep voice trailed off, Melissa turned to see Richard standing in the doorway, arms crossed, legs braced apart, chin thrust forward, his brown gaze zeroing in on her.
Warmth rushed through her, leaving her feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. Despite his All-American cowboy attire and belligerent stance, he was still the most attractive man she’d ever met, and that was saying something since she worked with male models daily.
He was tanned from years of working outside, tall, dark-haired, lean and big-boned, with a mouth that was firm and full-lipped and dark lashes thick enough to tangle in the corners.
Still feeling shaky and unsure, all she wanted to do was rush into his strong arms for comfort; but she didn’t. She didn’t want or need to feel weak, so all she did was nod and turn back to Jeremy. “Sure.”
But Jeremy had caught the hesitation. “Whatever.” He glared at her on his way out of the room.
Richard moved aside to let him pass before shutting the door. “Can’t you at least act interested?”
“It’s not that, it’s--” She hesitated, wondering how to explain her experience on the front lawn; how to explain her fear. “It’s--” She threw her hands up into the air and turned away. She was acting irrational. There was nothing to fear. She wasn’t going to behave like that crazy man on TV, and she didn’t need Richard questioning her sanity.
“What?” Richard’s gaze was frustrated as he studied her. When she shook her head, he growled deeply in his throat, his anger flipping up a notch. “Melissa, why do you have to be so complicated? Is this family important to you at all? Am I important? What is it you want?” Turning away in agitation, he rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, then turned and met her gaze. “Do you want a divorce?”
Shock gripped Melissa and she didn’t answer, couldn’t as her chest tightened painfully; Richard had never mentioned divorce before. Her lip trembled, then anger rushed through her. Here she was, upset, confused and shaky, and did he even notice? “Why is it I’m the one in this family whose needs are constantly overlooked? Don’t I deserve some kind of consideration also?”
He sliced an arm through the air. “What are you talking about? Don’t be stupid! You’re the most high maintenance person I know!”
With a nod, she acknowledged the truth of that. “You knew that when you married me. You knew when I agreed to have a child. One child. Now suddenly you’re talking divorce because I’m high maintenance?”
She paced across the room and swallowed against the tightness in her throat. The anger slowly fizzled out of her and she rubbed her forehead. Hadn’t she been thinking that very thing earlier; that all this might be too much for her? “Maybe you’re right.”
“That’s a first. What am I right about?”
She shot him a dirty look. “Maybe a divorce would be for the best. Maybe you’re right and I’m just not cut out for this kind of life.”
Richard’s fists clenched and he took a step toward her. “That’s a cop out.”
She tugged off her heirloom wedding ring and set it on Richard’s desk. She felt an immediate sense of loss, but refused to show it. “You’re the one who mentioned divorce.”
Richard sucked in a breath, then turned away and paced back toward the door before swinging around to face her. “Look. I should never have said that. I’m sorry. It’s just that I get so sick and tired of you hurting the kids. Open your eyes! They love you. They want you in their lives, and you keep pushing them away to further your career. You need to wake up and see what’s important here. Who is important.”
He walked forward and grabbed her by her upper arms, pulling her forward slightly. “I love you, Melissa. And I can’t just stand by and watch you throw away the most important part of your life.”
Pain was blossoming inside as she jerked away from him and turned her back. She loved Richard, and she loved her kids. But perhaps she had enough stress in her life with her career. Maybe she couldn’t be the wife and mother they needed. Maybe she just wasn’t capable of it. Instead of this continual pain of never being enough, perhaps she should just admit defeat in her family life so she could concentrate on what was important to her. Her career.
She faced him. “Maybe we do need to think about a divorce.” Richard studied her face for a moment, and she saw the hurt in his eyes before his face tightened and he turned and left the room, slamming the door after him.
She winced, glared at the door and considered going after him; calling him back and apologizing. But he was the one who’d brought it up. And maybe she just didn’t belong here anymore. Maybe she never had. Perhaps there was too much of her mother in her.
She glanced at the desk, at the beautiful antique ring, and resisted the urge to replace it on her finger. She loved the ring; loved everything about it, from the memory of the way Richard had placed it on her finger, to the story behind the ring itself.
Won in a poker match by one of Richard’s ancestors, gambled away by a rich man who’d lost his true love to another.
Melissa’s lip curled and she turned away. The idiotic woman should have gone for security instead of love. It lasted longer. She walked to the door and wrenched it open. She didn’t have time for any of this right now. She had a ton of work to do and she’d better go outside and watch the stupid science presentation first. Then she could immerse herself in work and forget about the ache in her chest.
Chapter Three
Melissa opened the glass patio door, stepped onto the back porch and stood in the darkness. She watched as Richard gave Jeremy pointers on using the camera as he took a series of shots of the moon.
Obviously, they’d given up on her coming outside, and obviously they didn’t need her. So what was all the fuss about? Why was everyone so angry with her? She wanted to turn around and go inside, but didn’t.
Jeremy finished taking pictures and when he set the camera on the card table beside him, glanced up, saw her, and smiled. “Mom, come on. I’m just about to start.” He waved her over with one hand, his animosity apparently forgotten.
Richard and Jessica sat on a couple of chairs on the far side of the lawn, but didn’t acknowledge her presence, even though they were turned toward her so they could see the moon. There was a spare chair beside Richard.
She stayed under the eve on the back porch, out of the moonlight. She knew she should move, but couldn’t seem to make herself. Something inside her, anxiety or nervousness, kept her in place. She just couldn’t go out there. Could not.
Richard finally spoke. “Melissa?”
She shook her head. “I can see just fine from here.”
&nb
sp; In the light from the moon, and even from the distance, she could see Richard’s expression darken; he looked ready to blow.
Jessica raised her head. “Mother, just get over here.”
Melissa was surprised by Jessica’s adult, caustic tone. Everyone was so angry. That she could handle, did handle every day at work. But when she glimpsed the hurt on Jeremy’s face, she felt guilty and, sighing heavily, took a step. Fine. She would make herself do this.
Slowly she forced herself to walk across the patio, but as she did her legs started to shake and her heart pounded. She really was afraid. But the expectation, the sense that they waited, kept her moving. When she started writhing on the ground they’d be sorry.
She walked toward the line on the grass separating shadow and moonlight and the hair on the back of her neck stood up and goose bumps broke out on her arms. She stopped just short of the moonlight, then forced herself to step into it, watching as her shadow appeared on the grass.
She stopped and stood very still. Nothing happened. She took another step and, lungs burning from the breath she held, gasped for air as relief flooded her. Legs still shaking, she hurried over to her family and, feeling foolish, sat in the chair beside Richard. She surreptitiously wiped at her damp forehead, and tried to regulate her breathing. Richard didn’t look at her; Jessica didn’t look at her; but Jeremy smiled, and she was glad she’d made the effort.
Jeremy took a deep breath. “Okay.” He turned to a card table set up beside him, his hand hovering over the contents: a flashlight, a papier-mache model of the moon, several books, a notebook, and a poster board, which he finally picked up and held so they could see.