Spellcrossed

by Barbara Ashford

  “Let’s play it by ear. Maybe they’ve patched things up and we won’t have to do anything.”

  One look at their faces convinced me that the “patching up” scenario was wishful thinking. When lunch concluded, I offered a silent prayer that I was not about to make the biggest mistake in my life and sat Mom and Chris down on the sofa. I sank into an easy chair. Rowan perched on the arm and took my hand between his.

  “Mom. There’s something I have to tell you.”

  “Oh, my God, you’re pregnant.”

  “No! No. I am definitely not pregnant.”

  Mom heaved a sigh of relief. Then she frowned. “Well, you’re not getting any younger,” she noted in one of her maddening about-faces. “And if you two intend to stay together, I hope you’ve at least discussed—”

  “Let’s save kids for another day, okay?”

  She studied me suspiciously, then leaned back on the sofa with a groan. “Oh, Lord. This is like those TV shows where the family stages an intervention to save their drug-addicted loved one. Only you’re intervening in our relationship. Thank you, no.”

  “Mom…”

  “Chris and I are grown-ups, Maggie, and we’d appreciate it if you would—”

  “Daddy’s here.”

  As Mom went rigid, I hurriedly launched into the same story I had fed Nancy weeks ago, a truer depiction of Jack’s life than the version he and Rowan had concocted for public consumption: the letter that was eventually forwarded to Rowan; his cross-country trek; the chance meeting with a group of hikers that led him to a dilapidated cabin in the mountains; and his eventual return to the Crossroads with Jack in tow.

  “I wanted to tell you all of this when you came up for Annie, but Daddy was…well, he was a mess, and I decided to wait until he was more like his old self, and I’m sorry to spring it on you like this, but I thought…I thought…”

  My voice ran down. Mom stared at her clasped hands, her lips compressed into a tight pink line. Then her head came up and she fixed Rowan with a cold stare.

  “Why did you have to interfere?”

  “He’s Maggie’s father. And I knew she loved him. Should I have left him there? Living like an animal? Knowing he’d never survive another winter?”

  “No. You should have taken him to a hospital.”

  “I tried. He ran away.”

  My mother’s laugh was bitter. “That’s his answer to everything. You could have notified the authorities. They would have removed him forcibly and seen to it that he got the care he needed.”

  “We were miles from anywhere, Alison. No cell phone reception. No roads.”

  “Then you should have lied! Taken him to town and turned him over to people who could help him.”

  “I couldn’t do that. He’d put his trust in me.”

  “So you brought him here.”

  “Yes.”

  “Knowing it would only turn Maggie’s life upside down.”

  “Yes.”

  “Knowing she was probably better off without him.”

  “Yes.”

  “And now what?” She turned that burning gaze on me. “You’re going to become his caretaker? Waste years of your life like I did?”

  “It won’t come to that.”

  “My God, Maggie! Don’t you think I said that? I spent most of my marriage trying to change Jack Sinclair. And when I couldn’t, I spent the rest of it trying to keep him from going off the deep end.”

  “He’s better now.”

  “Running a telephone hotline doesn’t qualify you to diagnose or treat mental illness. And unless he’s given up this ridiculous search for…other worlds…then he is mentally ill and he needs professional treatment, whether or not he wants it.”

  “When you see him—”

  “I have no intention of seeing him.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve gone through hell for Jack Sinclair. I am not starting down that path again. And I pray to God you’ll abandon it. Because there is no happy ending here. If he’s sick, he’ll have another breakdown—and another and another until you have no choice but to commit him. And if he is better, he’ll leech off of you just long enough to get his life together and then walk out—again. Either way, he’ll ruin your life and break your heart in the process.”

  “He can’t break my heart. He doesn’t have that power over me any longer.”

  Maybe the weariness in my voice convinced her that I was stating a fact rather than protesting.

  “As for ruining my life, he won’t be around long enough to do that. He’s moving on after the season ends.”

  “Moving on? Where? To do what?”

  “I don’t know. Neither does he.”

  “Typical. And what happens a month from now—a year from now—when you get another desperate cry for help?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll help him.”

  “Then he’ll hold you hostage for the rest of your life.”

  “He’s my father. I can’t just turn my back on him. But I won’t allow him to hold me hostage. And you shouldn’t either.”

  Her puzzled frown cleared. “Now I get it. Honestly, Maggie, did you really think I’d take one look at Jack and change my mind about marrying Chris?”

  I avoided looking at Rowan who had said exactly the same thing.

  “Okay, it was a stupid idea!”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Chris said quietly.

  Mom’s head snapped toward him. “Were you in on this?”

  “No. But if Maggie had come to me with the idea, I would have said, ‘Let’s try it.’ At this point, I’m willing to try anything.”

  “Then try accepting how I feel! All of you.”

  She grabbed her purse and started for the door.

  “There’s one more thing you should know.”

  With obvious reluctance, she turned to face me.

  “Whether or not you want to see Jack now, you might see him tomorrow night. He’s playing the Narrator in Into the Woods.”

  “I thought Bernie—”

  “Bernie’s his understudy. And he’s playing the matinees. If Jack can’t go on—”

  “Don’t pull him for my sake.”

  “It’s not that. He froze during dress rehearsal. And…couldn’t go on opening night.”

  “Froze? Jack?” Mom shook her head in disbelief. “Of all the things you’ve told me today, that’s the most unbelievable. Was it because of me? Did he know I would be here?”

  “He learned that days ago. Just after I told him I was his daughter.”

  “He didn’t figure that out himself? All he had to do was look at you. But that’s Jack. Too wrapped up in himself to notice anyone else.” Mom studied me for a moment, then nodded. “That’s what you meant when you said he didn’t have the power to hurt you any longer.”

  “Partly. But I’ve had a chance to get to know him this summer. And he’s everything you always claimed. Charming. Clever. Childish. Self-absorbed. You warned me. So did Rowan. But I thought I could…fix him. Talk about ‘The Impossible Dream.’ If something’s really impossible, why waste time trying?”

  “If you believed that,” Rowan said, “you would never have risked loving me.” He took my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted it up. “People do change, Maggie.”

  “You wanted to change.”

  “I wanted you. As far as changing…” His thumb caressed my chin. “As I recall, you pretty much had to drag me kicking and screaming the whole way.”

  “As I recall, I did a whole lot of kicking and screaming myself.”

  We stared into each other’s eyes. Then we both became aware of the silence in the room. I ducked my head. Rowan cleared his throat and rose.

  “Yes. Well. As Alison said, enough dissection for one day.”

  “Where is he?” my mother asked.

  “Jack?”

  “No, the Easter Bunny. Of course, Jack!”

  “In the Smokehouse. Look, you don’t have to—”

  “I know I don’t
have to. Let’s just get this over with.”

  “I’ll bring him up here,” Rowan said.

  But Mom was already marching to the front door, leaving the three of us to scamper after her like schoolchildren following an impatient teacher.

  Short of knocking her down, there was no way to reach the Smokehouse first to warn Jack. As it was, when she flung open the door and stopped dead, we barely managed to avoid piling up behind her like The Three Stooges. I edged past and found her staring at Jack in shock.

  He acknowledged her reaction with a hesitant smile. “You should have seen me when I first got here. I looked like something the cat dragged in.”

  Maybe it was the use of one of her favorite phrases that made her shudder. Her hands tightened on the handle of her purse. Did she realize she was holding it in front of her like a shield?

  The same way Daddy held his guitar when he met me.

  “You look great,” Jack said. “Pretty as ever.”

  My mother gave a disparaging snort. “Your eyesight is failing.”

  “Same old Allie.”

  “Not quite. Time changes everyone.” She glanced at me. “Isn’t that a song from some musical?”

  “Maybe you’re thinking of ‘Time Heals Everything.’”

  “The lyricist was clearly an optimist.”

  “The title is ironic,” Rowan said quietly.

  “In that case, I’ll have to listen to it sometime.”

  A long silence ensued as they continued to study each other. Finally, Jack said, “Maybe we should walk down to the pond.” He shot a pointed look at Chris. “So we can talk in private.”

  “Talk about what? Where you’ve been? What I’ve been doing for the last two decades?” Mom shook her head.

  “Well, Maggie thought we should talk.”

  “Maggie thought the mere sight of you would send me running to the altar. This is Chris Thompson, by the way. The man I’ve been seeing for the last two years.”

  Jack and Chris exchanged stiff nods. Neither extended his hand.

  “Maggie ought to know better,” Jack said. “Once you make your mind up, there’s no budging you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just meant—”

  “I know what you meant. You always thought I was hopelessly stuck in my ways.”

  “And you always thought I was a screwup.”

  “You are a screwup, Jack.” Her voice was surprisingly gentle. “But our marriage was probably doomed from the beginning. The only good thing to come out of it was Maggie. She’s the reason I’m here. Not to demand apologies or point fingers or stumble down memory lane. Now what is this nonsense about you freezing onstage?”

  The abrupt shift in conversation left us all adrift. Jack shot me a reproachful glance and muttered, “It’s been a long time since I performed.”

  “Are you saying you can’t act any longer?”

  “Of course I can act!”

  “Then stop making excuses and do it! Rowan put his life on hold to find you. Maggie’s turned this theatre upside down to make a place for you. It’s time to step up to the plate, Jack. I’ll expect to see you onstage tomorrow night. And by God, you better give the performance of a lifetime.”

  “It’s only a small role.”

  “What’s that old theatre proverb? ‘There are no small roles, only small actors?’”

  “I hate that saying!” Jack and I exclaimed in unison.

  Our reaction drew a reluctant chuckle from Mom. “God, Jack. I can’t believe you didn’t realize she was your daughter.”

  “She’s your daughter, too. First time she yelled at me, she said, ‘An apology goes a lot farther than a shrug and a smile.’ How many times did you remind me of that?”

  “About a million.”

  I recalled the strange look he’d given me when I said that. But he still hadn’t put the pieces together. Maybe he’d been afraid to try.

  “So,” Mom said, “if we’re done here, I’ll see you after the show, Jack.”

  “Allie? You don’t…hate me, do you?”

  “No. I don’t hate you.”

  She sounded infinitely weary. How many times had he asked that over the course of their marriage? And how many times had she given him the same tired reassurance?

  “All the hurt and pain and mistakes we made…it was a long time ago. I can even forgive you for vanishing from your daughter’s life, because I think that was the best thing you could have done for her.”

  Jack nodded eagerly, but I was stunned that she could wave aside his abandonment.

  “But while I might be willing to forgive the past, I am holding you accountable for the present. And the future. If you hurt Maggie again, I will hate you. You’ve been given a second chance to play a part in your daughter’s life, Jack. Don’t screw it up this time.”

  She strode out of the Smokehouse. Chris and Jack seemed shell-shocked by her vehemence. On Rowan’s face, there was open admiration.

  I ran after her. When she heard me calling, her steps slowed, then stopped.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you through that.”

  “No. You were right. I did need to see him.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Just…tired.”

  I hooked my arm through hers, and we walked toward the parking lot. Mom finally broke the silence to ask, “When you told him you were his daughter, did he ask if you hated him?”

  I nodded.

  “Still so desperate to be loved.”

  Rowan had written something similar in his journal. I wondered if Jack hungered for love or merely for expiation.

  “Maybe that’s why he became an actor,” Mom mused. “All that love pouring over the footlights.”

  “That’s not love. It’s applause. Adulation.”

  “It’s the only kind of love Jack could handle. The love of strangers. Real love requires that you give something in return.”

  “And that doesn’t make you bitter?”

  “I’m bitter about the wasted years. But I meant it when I said I don’t hate him. Frankly, I don’t feel much of anything. I never expected that. You love someone. You live together. You bring a child into the world. And in the end, there’s nothing left. I find that very sad.”

  “It is.”

  “Maybe Rowan was right to bring him back, but I wish for your sake that you could have held on to your happy memories of him.” She sighed. “How awful has it been for you?”

  I watched Chris and Rowan walking toward us. Then I turned back to Mom and asked, “Do you want to go somewhere? Just the two of us?”

  “Yes,” Mom said. “I’d like that.”

  We ended up at Woodford State Park. Although there were a couple of cars parked by the trail entrance, the lakeshore was deserted. It was an unprepossessing spot for a chat, the overcast sky as gray as the waters of the lake. The rack of canoes provided the only cheery note, the bright colors—yellow, red, orange—a startling contrast to the pine trees lining the shore like grim, green soldiers.

  “It’s not exactly Rehoboth,” I said.

  “More like the lake in that Montgomery Clift-Elizabeth Taylor movie. The one where he takes Shelley Winters out canoeing so he can kill her.”

  “That’s a real pick-me-up.”

  “This from the woman who refers to Janet’s lovely home as the Bates mansion.”

  We sat on a weathered wooden bench near the strip of sand that constituted the beach and I told her as much about my summer as I could. She punctuated my monologue with the occasional sigh, but her head jerked toward me when I described the night I ran away.

  “I know. Another like father, like daughter moment.”

  “Maybe. But you came back. And the two of you seem okay now.”

  “I think so.”

  I could hear the uncertainty in my voice and feel my mother’s intent gaze.

  “The honeymoon isn’t exactly over, but we’ve had our share of ups and downs.”

  “Good. Tha
t means you’re going into this with your eyes open.”

  I’d told Jack we were. But were anyone’s eyes really open when they were in love?

  “When I met Rowan, I thought you were falling for a man just like your father. The boyish charm. The eagerness to please. And that strange watchfulness. Like he was gauging my reactions and choosing the most appropriate response.”

  That description of their first encounter was so accurate it was scary. And it was a scary-accurate description of my father, too.

  “But I’ll grant a lot of leeway to a man who’d spend months searching for his girlfriend’s father. And who looks at you the way he does…like you were the only person in the room.”

  “The same way Chris looks at you.”

  Her cheeks grew faintly pink.

  “Did Daddy ever look at you that way?”

  “In the beginning. When he was trying to win me. But after he had…” She shrugged.

  “So you’re okay with Rowan?”

  Mom sighed. “Yes. But he still scares me, Maggie. There are scars on that man’s soul.”

  “Everybody has scars.”

  “But some can’t be healed.”

  I wondered if she was talking about herself as well as Rowan, but I just said, “He’s helped heal some of mine. I’m trying to do the same for him.”

  “That won’t be easy. Rowan’s a bit…murky at times, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah.” It was my turn to sigh. “Is Chris ever like that?”

  She stared out at the lake. “Chris is like the water in the Caribbean. So beautifully clear you can see right down to the bottom.”

  We returned to the theatre to find Chris and Rowan sitting on a bench by the pond.

  “Seems everyone is gazing at water this afternoon,” Mom noted.

  “Actually, we just got back from a hike,” Chris said. “Rowan showed me the plateau where you two had your first picnic. Talk about a romantic spot. Well. Not so much for Rowan and me. But if you two had been with us…”

  I saw exactly what Mom meant about clear waters. His love for her shone through his eyes, his smile, the very way his body leaned toward her.

  For a moment, she allowed her love to shine just as clearly. Then she frowned and said, “We should let Maggie and Rowan get ready for the show.”

  As their car pulled out of the parking lot, Rowan said, “I’m beginning to understand why you wanted to intervene. He’s a good man. And they’re good for each other.”