by Ami Le Coeur
She grinned and tilted her head. “That depends. What do you need? Gregory told me about your less-than-satisfactory experience. And he wants you to succeed. He’s already paid my consulting fee, so, you tell me. What is it that you want?”
I sat there for a moment, not sure how to answer. I wanted to publish our book. Hell, I had already promised Emily that I would publish our book. Even beyond my promise, I was pretty sure that what we had put together had a commercial market. So I guessed that was my goal.
“Here,” I said, pushing my manuscript across the table. “We’ve written this book. It’s for kids. But it’s also by a kid. A nine-year-old. She gave me the story and I did the illustrations. I think it’s delightful, and I want it published.”
Teresa picked up the manuscript. Flipping through the pages, her grin got bigger. Finally, “Yes. I think you have something really marketable here. It would make a great children’s book. It’s not hard to self-publish, you know. Especially if you have me to help.”
“Well, I think it’s really important that the money should go into Emily’s college fund. Is that possible?”
Her green eyes crinkled in the corners. She had one of the kindest faces I’d ever seen. “Look. My job is to help you get this book self-published. What you do with the money is up to you.”
I liked the sound of that. “Thank you. I was beginning to worry about whether or not this would ever get published.”
“Hey, listen. When you choose to self-publish, you get to call the shots. The other side of that is that you also have to fund the promotions and all the advertising, but at least you know how, when, and where it’s being promoted. If you relied on a traditional publisher, it would all depend upon where they thought their efforts might pay off. In other words, on their whims.”
“But what do you think?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious about our book and desperate to know if I was only looking at it through my personally biased rose-colored glasses.
“I am not an expert, even if I know a lot about the industry. But I can tell you that I agree, this is delightful, and I encourage you to focus on publishing and promoting it. She smiled as she handed the manuscript back to me. “I would love to meet the author, and I hope we can do that soon. In the meantime, here’s my card, and please feel free to contact me anytime if there’s something I can help with.”
I reached across the table to take the card.
“So now, you must have a million questions. Tell me what you’re thinking and ask away. That’s what I’m here for.” She smiled as she sat back in her chair.
I took a deep breath, letting my shoulders drop as I finally felt comfortable enough to relax my defenses. For the first time since we’d begun to market the book, I felt like this was a real possibility. Like this was a chance I’d be willing to take. I didn’t have a lot of money saved up, but I would be willing to put it all towards the publication and promotion of our book.
And towards Emily.
###
In the lobby I texted Thom to let him know I was through. As I waited for his response, I thought back over the meeting with Teresa, and how much it opened up for me. And Emily. My mind exploded with possibilities. I was anxious to get started on the self-publishing idea and excited about bringing Emily into the process, including having her meet the consultant.
I wondered what Thom would think of that. Or what Rachel might say. I really had no idea. So much had happened in the past few days.
Where my life had been rather quiet and uneventful after the accident, now everything seemed to be moving at rocket speed. And most of it had happened since Angela had left for her getaway vacation with Antonio. I couldn’t believe they hadn’t even been gone for two weeks.
I sighed. So many changes. Good changes. Most of them, anyway. Especially Thom. Wonderful Thom. I sucked in a breath, thinking about how much he had changed my life… and my outlook on life. Even my confidence and sense of wholeness. Then I stifled a giggle, imagining Angela’s face when she found out, and wondering if she’d be able to see the difference in me when she returned.
I’d never have admitted it before, but where my future had seemed empty and not quite my own, now it felt full of promise. I had already begun mentally planning the display and demo for Gregory’s project. Now I’d need to add in this publishing thing using the checklist Teresa had given me, along with the tips she’d shared in our meeting.
I remembered her request to 'meet the author' and thought about the frown on Thom’s face when I’d brought up the Children’s Academy event. An involuntary shudder passed through me when I thought about asking Rachel to allow Emily to participate.
Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad? Then I shook my head. I seriously doubted she would let it be easy. All I could imagine was her making unreasonable demands, in that shrill voice of hers she used when she talked to Thom. Certainly nothing she’d done since I’d first met her led me to believe it would be anything other than a difficult, confrontive experience. The Pollyanna in me wanted to believe that any mother would want the best for her child, but the realist in me laughed at my naivety.
I sighed again. How much easier it would be if Thom had custody. Then it would be more like a family. A family. I held my breath at the thought. Then, my eyes burned and my throat grew tight as I thought about the conversation we’d had this morning.
I knew from my therapy sessions after the accident that even with my kind of injury it might be possible to have children. There would be difficulties, of course. But it wasn’t impossible or unheard of. I’d just never allowed myself to think much about it. Had never bothered to check very far into it before. I never had a reason to. But now…
Was Thom serious about wanting another child? Would Emily want a brother or sister? What would it be like to have our own little family unit? Where Emily wouldn’t have to run away, and Thom could just let go and finally relax? My heart swelled with love for these two people who’d become almost bigger than life to me. I wanted to protect and love them. To smother them with so much love that every bad thing that had happened to them would just disappear into the shadows. Forever.
I fumbled for my hanky just as my phone beeped, signaling an incoming text. I dashed the tears from my eyes, reading Thom’s response to my earlier message.
“On my way. Good meeting. Things are looking up. See you soon. Love.”
Things are looking up.
Indeed.
Chapter 15 – Emily
Mommy was outside, talking on the phone, so I sneaked into my bedroom to FaceTime Daddy. I didn’t like to wait for him to answer, but I really, really needed to talk to him.
“Hi, punkin.” Like always, he had a big smile for me when his face appeared on my screen.
“Daddy,” I said, almost a whisper.
“What is it?” His eyebrows frowned and his voice sounded worried. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m just trying to be quiet.” His question made my heart beat faster. “I just didn’t want Mom to hear me.”
“Where is she, honey? And why don’t you want her to hear?”
“She’s sitting on the patio outside. I just don’t want her to be mad at me for calling you. Or to lock me in my room again.”
Dad was quiet on the other side of the phone.
“Has she done that since you got back home? Locked you in your room?”
“No. But she did before. And she gets that look in her eyes like she’s going to. When can I come see you again?”
“Soon, honey. I promise.”
I took a deep breath and pushed it out all at once. “I miss you, Daddy. I don’t like being here anymore. Mommy stopped yelling and throwing things, but now it’s kinda worse.”
He was quiet again. Then, softly, “Honey, has she hurt you?”
“No, not any more. She just looks at me funny and she’s been talking to herself a lot. And to someone else on the phone. It’s scary. I think I liked it better when she yelled.”
I put my fi
nger on my iPad to touch his face. I didn’t mean to make him look so upset.
“Daddy’s so sorry. I’m working on it, trying to make things better. Do your best not to make your Mommy angry, okay Em? I’m doing everything I can.”
That wasn’t what I hoped he would say. “Okay,” But, if he was working on it, maybe it would change soon? I hoped so.
“But, honey… if anything bad or scary happens—and I mean anything—you call me right away, promise?”
“Pinky promise, Daddy,” I said, lifting my hand so he could see it.
“Good. I’ll see you soon, punkin.” He raised his pinkie and touched it to his phone.
“Bye, Daddy. I love you.”
“I love you too, honey.” Daddy’s voice sounded gargle-y and strange as he hung up and the picture went away. I sighed, feeling better since I had talked to him, but not quite sure how I could stay out of the way of Mom’s anger.
I sighed again. I really, really wished I could figure out how to blend into my surroundings so I didn’t catch the Momster’s attention.
Chapter 16 – Maria
The chiming of the doorbell broke me out of my little world. I’d just spent the last two hours poring over the materials I’d originally submitted to the publishing company for our book. After my meeting with Teresa, I’d decided to look back through the package, this time with an eye to identifying any obvious holes.
I still believed our book would be successful, but the idea of self-publishing had never occurred to me before our meeting. I’d been pretty devastated after the initial encounter with Miss Johnson at the publishing house, and I’d mentally put everything on hold.
Now I was excited again. Excited about getting this book into the hands of parents and children. And even more excited that we might be able to do it ourselves without depending on the publishing gods to give us a yeah or a nay.
It took a whole different perspective to look at things from the point of view of being a publisher myself. I’d never really thought about it before. This industry was new to me. But I was confident I could figure out whatever I needed to know, especially with Teresa’s help.
As I wheeled over to answer the front door, I realized how much I liked what we’d done so far. In looking through the package, I’d only seen a couple of little things I wanted to improve on. Without the resources of a large publishing company behind us, I figured we’d need to make sure the book was as close to perfect as it could be before we tried publishing. Then there were all the promotional and marketing things I’d need to learn—but that would come later. For now, I would focus on the book itself.
I was still grinning my enjoyment as I opened the door. But my smile dropped away as soon as I saw who was on the other side.
How? I stared.
Why?
What in the world would bring this woman to my door?
I might have only seen her a couple of times, but I’d know her anywhere. Overly styled blonde hair framing a face that carried too much make-up. But it wasn’t the color of her lipstick that stood out. It was the tight set of the lips themselves. The arms crossed over her chest. The slant of her head, in a seemingly perpetual display of annoyance. And those eyes.
“Where is he?” Rachel demanded, tossing her hair behind her shoulders. “Where is that bastard? I know he’s here.”
I shook my head, a bit shocked by her presumptive outburst, and too surprised to speak. What was this woman doing on my doorstep?
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said, pushing in through the open door and stepping around my chair.
“Make yourself at home,” I said, for lack of something better. I shut the door and turned, checking the pocket on the side of my wheelchair to make sure the phone was there. Just in case. I didn't trust this woman, and I wasn't taking any chances.
The smile on her face told me she’d missed the irony in my voice. Or, more likely, simply ignored it. She was already inside, but this was my home, and I couldn’t see any reason to be purposely rude to this woman, even if she’d been that way with me on more than one occasion in our short acquaintance. Besides, I was curious… very curious. What in the world could she want with Thom? And why had she come here to find him?
“Cute little… bungalow,” she said as she surveyed the front room, tapping her long nails against her crossed arms, her eyes taking in every worn spot on the sofa and tattered edge of the rug. Actually, I doubted she could see any of it, but in my overactive imagination, every minor flaw was a glaring invitation for her criticism and… scorn.
“We like it. It suits us.”
“Yes, I imagine so.” Her voice distracted, she turned back towards me, a smile plastered brightly on her face. The upward curve of her lips was firmly attached to her mouth, but clearly not communicating with her eyes.
“So what can I do for you?” I asked, keeping my tone pleasant. “As you can see, Thom isn’t here.” I waved at the room.
“Yes.” And just like that, her face transformed—now she looked sad. “I’m so very sorry I barged in, it’s just been such a trying time. I so desperately need to speak to Thom, we’ve had a… disagreement and we need a long heart-to-heart to work things out. You know, for our daughter’s sake.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, watching me closely.
I pressed my lips together to hold in the laugh that wanted to bubble out through them. Did everyone in Rachel’s life buy her BS? How could they look at her and believe she was sincere and honest?
Fake bitch. The woman was as fake as Monopoly money. Still, I was dying to know what she wanted, so for the moment I'd simply play along.
“Your daughter is very sweet,” I said, letting an equal amount of sugar drip into my tone. “I’m sure you want nothing but the best for her. But again, Thom isn’t here. I can let him know that you dropped by.”
“You two seem to be… good… friends?” Her eyebrows raised into a question for a moment before she turned away and strode towards my drawing area without waiting for a response.
I couldn’t help it, my cheeks grew warm when I thought about what good friends we’d become. Very good friends. Exceptionally good friends. And, now, lovers.
She turned and faced me, and for a moment I deeply resented my disability. I hated having to look up at her. I hated that she stood there, looking down on me. I felt like a bug under a microscope. As though she was deciding whether or not I was significant enough to step on.
“I hear you’re a pretty good artist,” Rachel said, changing the subject again, and saving me from a response. “I always wanted to be a painter when I was a little girl. But, nothing seemed to work out…” her voice trailed off. “Other things… came up...”
I wheeled towards the desk, glad that my things were no longer strewn around the area, and grateful once again for the cabinet we’d just finished building.
“I do okay. Sketching is fun, but I enjoy painting very much,” I said, keeping my voice neutral and even, not wanting to open myself up to criticism. “What kind of painting did you like best?”
“Watercolors.” She smiled at me, and this one lit up her eyes. “I never even took any classes. But people said I was a natural.”
“Then why did you stop?” I couldn’t help asking, it was the first moment she’d seemed sincere. Here was something we actually shared in common. I couldn’t imagine giving up on anything I loved, especially when it was so personally satisfying.
Some emotion between fear and sadness flashed across her face, replaced by a touch of anger before she dropped her eyes. “How long have you known Francis?”
Francis? Oh. “A few months.” I managed to stifle the snicker at hearing his first name again. I still couldn’t identify him with that name.
She gave me another of her sad looks. “You need to be careful around him, you know. It’s not safe. I’d hate for you to be hurt…” she looked down at my legs, “…worse.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it, deciding not to get into a verbal war. Especially with some
one so much better equipped for that kind of battle than I was. She shuffled through the paintings sitting against the wall, pulling one out to look at it more closely. “These are nice. I like the trees.”
“Thank you,” I responded simply, wondering again why she’d come to my house. She had to have known that Thom wasn’t here, otherwise she’d have seen his car.
She turned to me. “Actually, I’m glad Francis isn’t here. To be honest, I’ve been worried about you, ever since Emily told me you were a cripple, too.” Her solicitous tone of voice was nauseating. So sickening sweet in her attempt to hide the real nastiness underneath.
I gave her a sugary little smile of my own. “As you can see, you have nothing to be concerned about. I’m doing just fine. I have a wonderful life.”
Her smile dulled a bit, then fell completely. “Well, I truly hope it stays that way. But I worry that it won’t… now that you and my ex-husband are… friends. You don’t know him like I do. You don’t know the monster he can become. I… I refuse to be alone with him anymore, he scares me so badly.” She pressed a finger to the corner of her eye, as if wiping away a tear. “If the courts didn’t insist he get to see Emily four days a month, I’d never ever allow her to be put in such danger.”
I drew in a deep breath, refusing again to rise to her bait, but unable to stop myself from defending my gentle giant. “I’ve never felt a moment’s danger in Thom’s presence—only cared for and protected. And you know Emily adores her father. He’s wonderful with her.”
Then she laughed. Well, I guess you could call it a laugh, the undercurrent of hatred giving the sound an unmistakably hard edge. “He was like that with me too… at first. So loving. Doting. Protective. Caring. But then he changed.” She looked at me closely, her eyes almost shining. “He always changes. Just when you begin to trust him, another side comes out. A very scary side. Has he hit you yet?”
I gasped at the question. So casual. So matter of fact. So… unexpected. I couldn’t hide my surprise. But, before I could say anything, she went on. “Probably not, it’s still too early in your… relationship.” She looked down at my legs again and then back into my eyes. “And you might get lucky. You seem very pliable… agreeable. He likes his woman to be submissive. Obedient. Docile.” She flipped her hair. “I guess I had too much spirit for him and refused to be beaten down…” she paused, “…literally.”