Chances Are

by Barbara Bretton

  They had slowed to a crawl behind a road repair crew when Kelly turned to her and said, “Did you know my mom?”

  “Sure I did,” Maddy said. “Well, sort of. Sandy was six or seven years older than I was, so we weren’t friends or anything, but I knew her.”

  “Did you like her?”

  Maddy smiled. “Everyone did. She had a part-time job at the ice cream shop one summer, and she always gave me extra sprinkles on my cone.”

  “What did she sound like?”

  “Oh, Kelly, I’m not sure I can remember. It was a very long time ago and—” A memory, half-formed but vibrant, began to surface. “Musical! That’s how she sounded: musical. She did the reading of “The Night Before Christmas” one year at the tree-lighting ceremony, and I remember everyone saying that she had a very musical quality to her voice.” She almost cried at the look of pure gratitude Kelly gave her. She and Rose had had their problems over the years, but those problems seemed very minor compared to not having those years at all. She tried to imagine a world where she had never known her mother’s voice, or her touch, or the smell of her perfume, but the thought was too bleak, too terrifying to contemplate for long.

  “I spent all night looking at the photos Mrs. DiFalco gave me.”

  Maddy suddenly realized Kelly’s hands were folded over a tiny stack of snapshots. “Sandy was a very pretty girl,” she said carefully. “You look a lot like her.”

  “Mrs. D said the same thing last night, and so did my dad. I want to see it, but when I look in the mirror, I just see myself looking back.”

  Maddy reached across and pulled down the sun visor on the passenger side. “Your nose, for one thing,” she said. “And your smile . . . and there’s something about your eyes when you laugh that makes me think of your mom.”

  “It’s scary, you know?” She leaned forward, examining her reflection for hints of Sandy O’Malley, who would be forever nineteen. “She was an only child, just like me, and now that both my grandparents are dead, I’m all that’s left of her.” Tears streamed down her face faster than she could brush them away. “If I vanished right this second, it would be like she’d never existed at all.”

  “She exists in the hearts of many people,” Maddy said carefully. “She’s remembered and loved.”

  But that wasn’t what Kelly was talking about, and they both knew it. She was talking about those connections of blood that link the generations. She had felt that way when Hannah came into the world, blessed that something of herself and of Rose and Bill and her Grandma Fay and all the others who had come before would live on into future generations. It wasn’t something you could convey with words; it ran far too deep for that. It was visceral, primal in its intensity, life doing what it did best: renewing itself once again.

  “Honey, maybe we should stop at a diner or something and have a cup of tea.” You need time, Kelly. You need to take a deep breath and let the people who love you best help you.

  “No.” She flipped the mirror up and pulled herself together. “I just want it all over with. Once it’s finished I’ll be fine.”

  She would give it just one more try before she admitted defeat. “You’ve given a lot of thought to what you think is best for Seth and for your father and for everyone else, but not once have I heard you say what you think might be best for you. It’s your body and your decision, Kelly, but more than that, it’s your life we’re talking about. You’re going to live with whatever you decide every day for the rest of your life. Make sure it’s what you want, not what you think you should want.”

  Kelly nodded, and Maddy had the sense that she might as well have been speaking to Priscilla.

  “HE’S ALL YOURS,” Claire said as Lilly opened the front door to her Lincoln Town Car so Mike could slide in. “And may God grant you patience and fortitude.”

  Lilly laughed out loud. “Oh, he’s just an old teddy bear,” she said. “Once I get him set up with his cable and his remote control, he won’t be any problem at all.”

  “Are you two going to stand there gassing all afternoon, or can we blow this joint? Judge Judy’s on in twenty minutes.”

  The two women looked at each other and shared an eye roll.

  “You have his chemo schedule?” Claire asked. “He’s been on a Tuesday/Thursday rotation but—”

  “I have it right here.” Lilly patted her Kelly bag. “Along with his meds, his scripts, and his Dentu-Creme.”

  “Jesus H. Christ, can’t a man keep anything private in this world?” Mike bellowed from the front seat.

  “Dad, your teeth were sitting in a glass on your nightstand for the last two days. I think Lilly’s figured it out.”

  A florist delivery van beeped and motioned for them to move. Claire quickly leaned into the car and kissed her father, then gave Lilly an impulsive hug.

  “Take good care of him,” she said. “He’s a pain, but I love him.”

  Lilly promised she would, and Claire stood there on the curb, sniveling like a baby as they drove away. It’s only for a few weeks, she told herself. And it’s for the best. Mike would be much happier being fussed over by Lilly and more likely to make a quicker recovery. Never underestimate the power of trying to make a good impression. Besides, Olivia had E-MAILED both Claire and Maddy last night to say the workmen would be finished by Thursday or Friday, and then the fun would begin in earnest. There were menus to plan, recipes to test, suppliers to locate, advertising to worry about; the list went on and on. Maddy didn’t look all that thrilled when she mentioned it to her at the bus stop, but Claire couldn’t wait to get started.

  Maybe she wouldn’t go over to the lighthouse after all. Suddenly in the clear, uncompromising light of midday, it didn’t seem like that terrific an idea. She had already changed her mind at least two dozen times since she awoke that morning, which was almost as many times as she had changed her outfit.

  She wasn’t a foolish woman. She knew he was looking for closure, not commitment. They had hurt each other badly that long ago afternoon in Atlantic City. That was undeniable. She had been thinking only of herself when she told him she would be there. She could have told him on the phone that the calls and letters had to end, that she believed her husband had really changed, and that their marriage had a chance to succeed, but she didn’t. She had wanted to see him one more time, breathe the same air, see the way his dark eyes lit up when he saw her.

  Why else would she have conveniently forgotten to tell him she was eight months pregnant with her husband’s child? They had both said things—ugly things that had a greater half-life than uranium—and while forgiveness was possible, forgetting was so much harder.

  Maybe closure wasn’t such a bad thing. She hadn’t been able to achieve it with Billy, and she would go to her grave wishing she had told him what the last few years of their life together had meant to her. But life didn’t come with a schedule that warned you when your time was running out. You went to bed at night and awoke in the morning confident that you would do the same thing tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and that the people you loved would always be there.

  She slid behind the wheel of her car and drove on autopilot past the senior center, the site for the new church, through Paradise Point, past the lake, down the main streets of Port Pleasant and Breezy Beach, around the arboretum, past the women’s health center—

  What was Maddy’s car doing in the parking lot of the women’s health center? She knew for a fact that she and Maddy shared the same gynecologist. Why would she go to a clinic when she had a perfectly fine doctor of her own? And it had to be Maddy. There weren’t too many Mustangs of that vintage in the state, much less within a three-town radius. Besides, wasn’t she supposed to be out hunting down prom dresses with Kelly? At least that was the story Aidan had told her.

  Idiot! The truth smacked her right between the eyes. Kelly must have asked Maddy to go with her to the center for birth control, and Maddy hadn’t been able to figure a way out of it. She knew Aidan had been frank wi
th his daughter about the facts of life right from the beginning—and she had tried to treat Kelly with the same commonsense approach she had used with her own girls—but there came a time when your children quit confiding in you and looked outside the old family circle for advice and support.

  Maddy was the perfect choice. She was still new and exotic to Kelly, a local girl who had been away long enough to carry the scent of faraway places, even if in Maddy’s case she had only gotten as far away as Seattle. Almost family but not entrenched in old battles and expectations.

  Besides, Maddy hadn’t been a mother long enough to have developed the same finely tuned sense of paranoia that was part of parenthood. She wouldn’t automatically leap to worst-case scenarios every time Kelly said she had a problem.

  It made sense, but it still hurt. Like Aidan, she had been a little distracted over the last few years since the warehouse fire, but she had tried very hard to be there for Kelly, to make sure she didn’t veer off track. Even good kids could find themselves in bad trouble. If she had learned nothing from Kathleen’s problems, she had learned that. She wished her niece had felt comfortable enough to ask her for advice, but more than that, she wished Aidan hadn’t lied to her. That hurt more than anything else could. They were family. Their lives had been intertwined for more than twenty years. She deserved better than an easy lie. She had zero tolerance for bullshit, especially from O’Malley men, and she intended to read him the riot act as soon as she got back.

  THE WOMEN’S HEALTH Cooperative was located in a one-story white brick building a few hundred feet off the main road. The parking lot was small, and Maddy wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed when they found the last spot near a towering maple tree in full bloom.

  “We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” she said as she turned off the ignition. “You’re allowed to change your mind.” She knew she was beginning to sound like an endless loop, but she was willing to risk embarrassment if it meant making sure Kelly understood.

  “I’m okay.” She flashed Maddy a shaky smile. “I just want to get this over with.”

  “You could take another day or two,” Maddy went on. “A week. You still have time to think it through.”

  Kelly shook her head. “I’m going in now,” she said. “If you don’t want to, I understand.”

  Kelly had no idea how much Maddy didn’t want to, but that was beside the point. Somebody had to be there with her, and like it or not, Maddy was that somebody.

  The parking lot was unpaved, and the crushed shells and stones crunched and shifted beneath their feet as they walked to the side entrance. Kelly took a long, deep breath when they reached the door, then held it open for Maddy. A discreet bell sounded in the reception room where three teenage girls and four women around Maddy’s age thumbed through magazines or looked off into space. Faint strains of Enya wafted through the room, lending a soft, unthreatening quality to the atmosphere. Stacks of reading material graced a refectory table against the wall.

  Maddy followed Kelly over to the window where a middle-aged woman with snowy white hair smiled at them.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I—my name is Kelly O’Malley. I have an appointment.”

  The woman’s eyes flicked to the computer screen off to her left. “You’re early,” she said. “We like that.” She slid a sheaf of papers toward Kelly. “I know you did the presurgical phone interview, but we need a bit more info and some signatures.” She looked up at Maddy. “Are you her mother?”

  Maddy shook her head. “Stepmother.”

  “I’m glad you came along. We were a bit concerned that Kelly wasn’t bringing anyone with her.” The phone rang, and she shrugged apologetically. “Just fill everything out, Kelly, and bring it back to me when you’re done.”

  The sliding window clicked shut.

  They found two seats together near the refectory table. Kelly balanced the forms on a copy of Time and started filling in bits and pieces of information where required. Maddy had never felt more useless in her life. She was sitting not two feet away from Aidan’s daughter, but she might as well be on the moon for all it mattered. She couldn’t promise her that life would be rosy and happily-ever-after if she chose to keep the baby. She couldn’t promise that Seth would step up to the plate and shoulder his half of the responsibility. She hoped and believed that Aidan would find a way to get past his shock and disappointment and be there for Kelly the way he always had been, but once again, she couldn’t promise anything at all.

  Kelly finished filling out the various forms, signed what needed to be signed, then returned the papers to the white-haired nurse at the window. She was handed a paper cup and directed to leave a urine sample in the patients’ bathroom off the hallway. They would repeat the pregnancy test and then, assuming it was positive, when her turn came, Kelly would be prepped for the eight-minute procedure. She would be groggy afterward and would rest in one of the recovery rooms for a few hours until she was ready to be sent home with Maddy.

  And after that, all they would have to do was figure out a way to live with the consequences of their decisions.

  CORIN HAD BEGGED the owner of the one-hour photo shop on Main Street to let him use the darkroom for a half-hour. The owner, one of the many DiFalco cousins, drove a hard bargain, and he was fifty dollars poorer when he closed the door behind him and started processing the roll of film he had taken at Upsweep that morning.

  Something had been bugging him ever since he left Gina’s shop, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. He had the feeling he was looking at a puzzle with one piece missing, but damned if he knew what kind of puzzle it was or what that one piece could possibly be.

  His booking agent had tracked him down that morning to tell him he had to be on site in Malaysia twenty-four hours earlier than originally planned if he expected to link up with the three embedded journalists he would be accompanying deeper into the region. He considered telling his agent to stick it, but he had signed the contract and already spent the money.

  Lassiter, Crystal, and the rest of the crew had detoured up to Surf City on Long Beach Island for the day. One of the problems with doing the kind of work they did was the fact that they had to be willing to bend their schedule to meet the demands of the people whose lives they were chronicling. The head of the LBI historical society had just been offered a treasure trove of memorabilia found in a Surf City attic, and they were driving up there to film the story for the documentary.

  “If you could finish up with the churches and the hospital before you go, we’ll be in good shape,” Lassiter had said over coffee that morning.

  Corin agreed. “If Dean decides to take the summer to recuperate, I might be able to fly back in August or September to tie up loose ends.”

  “We wanted wedding photos, but they kept changing the damn date.”

  The ever-changing wedding plans of Maddy Bainbridge and Aidan O’Malley had become a running joke for the crew. Big wedding. Small wedding. Hotel reception. Clambake on the beach.

  They were all staying at a second-rate B and B on the other side of town, the kind of place that made a Motel 6 look upscale. The crew talked longingly about the first-class accommodations they had enjoyed at The Candlelight, with special emphasis on the great coffee. Crystal had set up her laptop and transcription machine on a folding table in the library, but she hadn’t managed more than the introduction by the time they left for Long Beach Island.

  “We’re leaving now,” Lassiter called out from the front hallway. “Come on, Crystal, let’s go!”

  “Damn.” She pressed a series of buttons, then smacked the heel of her hand against the side of the laptop.

  “That’s a piece of prime electronic equipment,” Corin said. “You can’t smack it around like a vending machine.”

  She pressed more buttons, then thumped the wrist rest with the heel of her hand. “Damn damn damn. I need to do a reboot.”

  “Crystal, we’re out of here now with or wi
thout you.”

  “Would you do it?” she begged Corin. “If I don’t get my ass out there, he really will leave without me.”

  “Go.” He wasn’t a computer expert, but even he could manage a reboot. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Don’t peek,” she ordered him. “That’s proprietary information. I’ll know if you peek. This is blockbuster stuff. Don’t screw around with it, okay?”

  He couldn’t help it.

  He peeked.

  GINA BARONE—Transcript—8 May Unauthorized—signatures TK (Peter Lassiter, creator—NJTV)

  (Transcribed by Crystal W.)

  GINA BARONE: [audible: music; misc. ambient noise] . . . told you this was a great place, didn’t I, Crystal . . . wait! What’s that? You drinking a cosmo . . . very Sex and the City, girl . . . no, no . . . gimme a margarita . . . big margarita, okay? . . . yeah, a pitcher sounds good . . . thanks. . . .

  This is so great here . . . you’re gonna love it . . . the only place I know that’s worth paying for a baby-sitter . . . I haven’t been anywhere since Joey—hell, no! Not tonight! No sad stories tonight . . . no way. . . .

  NOT A HELL of a lot to go on there. To his surprise, he had felt a surge of relief that there had been no justification for the uncomfortable feeling he had every time he saw that look of triumph in Crystal’s eyes as she spoke about “The Gina Tape.” He had read the transcript of the official preinterview and interview with Gina before he went to Upsweep to take some pictures and was surprised how much he liked her. She was brash, blunt, and seemingly fearless when it came to the truth, but something continued to tug at him, and he’d be damned if he could figure out what it was.

  Maybe seeing the contact sheet in front of him would help. He was a visual person. The way a person’s face reflected light told him more than their words ever could, and he was sure the photos of Gina would reveal a bottomless well of sorrow that ran counter to the way she presented herself to the world.