by Mary Campisi
Chapter 12
It was almost midnight and the Lubovich’s house was dark. Edna and Chuck went to bed every night right after Jay Leno’s monologue. Saturday and Sunday were exceptions, when they watched the oldies. Last weekend they’d seen Casablanca and Twelve Angry Men.
Alex let herself in the side door and flicked on the entry hall light. All she wanted to do was sink into bed, bury her head under the covers, and stay there. For a day, a week, as long as it took to sort out the mess she was in. Uncle Walter had called twice today, looking for reports, projections, specs, and most of all, her recommendation regarding the project. What the hell’s going on up there, Alex? What’s slowing you down? This isn’t like you to drag your feet so long. You usually know within forty-eight hours if a deal’s a go or not. Do I need to come there myself to get the ball rolling? What about Kraziak? What about Androvich? Have you sniffed them out, found their weak spots? What the hell have you been doing up there?
Now, there was a question. She and Nick had taken Justin to Mama Lina’s for pizza tonight, but she’d barely been able to finish her first piece. It wasn’t the extra cheese or pepperoni that did her in, it was the memory of Norman Kraziak hunched over and defeated asking her who would possibly be interested in buying his businesses. It had been four days, but she could still see him, still hear the words. Who’d want to buy two businesses out in the middle of nowhere? Who Alex? She hadn’t told Uncle Walter about the conversation she’d had with Norman, though there’d been plenty of opportunity. But it just hadn’t seemed right to capitalize on the man’s pain in that moment. Later, when Norman could think more clearly, without the sight of Ruth sitting on the bench waiting for a bus that would never come, then, she’d tell her uncle.
And Nick. How could she tell him Ruth had said he and Caroline were made for one another, a perfect match, so in love, that they’d never looked at another person since the day they met? How could she look at him and speak without choking on the words, the images, the confusion running through her brain? She couldn’t, and so she said nothing.
Time and sleep, that’s what she needed right now. Alex pulled the key from her purse, looked, froze. What the— There was a figure huddled against the door. In the faint gleam of light she made out a pink sundress, pink sandals, a pink crocheted handbag lying on the floor.
“Tracy?”
The woman, not more than a teenager really, with pigtails and pink ribbons in her hair, raised her head. Black streaks of mascara ran down a face swollen with tears. “Alex?” Her lower lip quivered. “I… I’m sorry.” Her shoulders shook with each word. “I don’t want Mom to know, not with Dad just getting out of the hospital and all. I… I had no place else to go.” This last she finished with a whimper.
Alex knelt beside the young woman, placed a hand over hers. “Why don’t you come inside?”
“Thanks.” She swiped a piece of blond hair from her face. “You won’t… you won’t tell my mom, will you?”
“No.” Alex stood, helped Tracy to her feet, then slid the key in the lock.
Tracy stepped inside, sniffed. “I just knew from what mom told me that I could count on you.”
What had Edna said? If she only knew… Guilt wedged in her throat, made the next words almost impossible to get out. “You can count on me.”
The tears came then, heart-wrenching sobs of grief and pain. “I don’t think he loves me anymore.” The words slid to a whisper of despair. “Oh, God.” Tracy buried her head in her hands, swayed, crumpled her small body against Alex.
“It’s okay,” Alex mouthed words that needed said, right or wrong, they would give Tracy strength—she hoped. She guided the young woman into the living room, helped her to the couch and flicked on a table lamp. The room lit up in soft shades of pink. “Why don’t you tell me what happened.” She felt like a mother or an older sister preparing to hear a tale of heartache, though she had no words of wisdom to share, and hoped she wouldn’t be asked for any.
“He started on me the minute he got home from work. I don’t know”—she shook her blond head—“he thinks I’m his slave and I’m not. I told him I’m not his mother or my mother, I’m my own person.” She jabbed her chest. “Me. And he can’t force me to be something or somebody I’m not. That’s right, isn’t it, Alex? He can’t force me to cook and clean and fold his clothes.”
“No.” This was Edna’s daughter? She wondered what Tracy thought of her mother ironing her father’s underwear and socks?
“Right, that’s what I told him.”
“But it would be nice if you could find a halfway point.” A can of Prego and an occasional spray of 409 might go a long way.
“He thinks I have nothing to do all day, says I should have had the decency to fix him a meal, even if it’s a frozen dinner. What do you think?”
What did she know about domestic expectations? Aunt Helen had always planned the week’s menus and handed them over to Rosa. And with Eric it had been take out or eat out. “Well, I don’t know a lot about cooking, but I do know quite a bit about negotiations, and it sounds like that’s what the two of you need to do.”
“Huh?” Tracy sniffed.
“Well, negotiate. He wants a meal, what do you want? Cleanup? A picture hung? A garden bed dug out? A movie on Saturday night?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, smoothed her pink dress over her knees. “I just don’t want him to expect me to do it, that’s the thing, you know?”
“Then talk to him, Tracy. Negotiate what’s important.”
“Hmm.”
“Do you care about Ted?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I love him so much it hurts.”
“Then stop coming here, to this apartment. Don’t run away from your problems, stay there, fight, let him know you care and you’re not giving up. Make him feel he’s worth it, the relationship is worth it.”
“You think so?”
“I do.” She was such an imposter. When had she ever been able to commit, really commit to a relationship with a man? When hadn’t she given up when they got too close, too personal, the situation too difficult? Would the same thing happen with Nick?
Tracy wiped her eyes, streaks of mascara smearing on her cheeks and fingers. “Thanks, Alex. Thanks a lot.” She smiled then, looking so young, so vulnerable, making Alex feel so… old.
“You’re welcome. I hope it helps.”
“It does, definitely.” Tracy pushed back a lock of hair, studied her. “No wonder you snagged Dr. Nick.”
“What? I didn’t—”
She laughed. “Sure you did, Alex. The whole town’s talking about it.” Her voice turned serious. “I’m glad. He deserves to be happy.” She grabbed her handbag, fished out her keys. “You take care of him. He was my first crush, did my mom tell you that? I never thought I’d get over him. God, but he’s beautiful.” She didn’t seem to notice that Alex hadn’t replied. “Oh, and thanks for not saying anything to my parents about this.” Tracy gave her a quick hug. “I knew I could trust you, Alex, I just knew.”
***
The night was hot, the air still. A slit of moon spilled over Sapphire Lake, casting it into luminescent calmness. Breathe, just breathe, it seemed to say as its waters lapped and fell upon each other in gentle repetition.
Alex stared, transfixed, lulled by the water and the aftermath of Nick’s lovemaking. He lay beside her, naked, his hand resting on her hip, fingers stroking her flesh in slow, absentminded circles. She shivered. Silence, thick, heavy, pulsing with emotion, blanketed them, pulled them together. There were no words, there hadn’t been since the moment Nick dropped the blanket on the ground and eased the tank top over her head. It had been only sensation then, pure, elemental, mixed with emotions too deep for words, too confusing for interpretation. It had been ten days since Marie Lendergin’s wedding, and still their lovemaking was no less needy, no less consuming than it had been on the first day, or the third, the fifth, the seventh, the ninth. This wanting of another perso
n, this passion that devoured waking moments was new and frightening for Alex, and yet…and yet…she craved it. But it wasn’t only the physical union that left her breathless, it was the being together, and the quiet, the space between the words, like now.
People were talking about them, Alex caught them staring when she and Nick and Justin stopped at Hot Ed’s for sausage subs or Stop-n-Go for Justin’s favorite, a raspberry Slurpee. Most smiled, nodded their approval, offered a few, well-placed, if not direct hints that they wouldn’t mind seeing Alex here on a more permanent basis. The worst offender, and most blatant spokesperson was Stella Androvich. You’ve made Nick happy, Alex, she’d said, tears in her brown eyes. It’s been a long time since he’s smiled like that, a long time. And then there was Gracie, So, like do you think you might find some reason to hang around, Alex? Huh? Like for good? Only one person’s voice hung in the back of her mind, shifting to the forefront every night just as she was drifting to sleep. You can screw him all you want but you better not screw with him, you got that Goldilocks? … I’ll be watching you… I’ll be watching you… Michael Androvich. She hadn’t seen him since those early morning hours, though she’d looked for him everywhere, was always wondering if he was behind her, in front of her, watching…
She couldn’t let this relationship develop any further without saying something to Nick. It was time… Time to try before it was too late.
“What would you think,” she began, “about getting away for a few days?”
His face was in profile, nose, mouth, chin, and she couldn’t see his expression. When he spoke, his voice was slow, measured. “What did you have in mind?”
“I know this place in upstate New York, quiet, secluded…” If he sees Krystal Springs for himself, he’ll fall in love with it, I know he will.
Nick blew out a long breath. “I thought you were going to go metropolitan on me, New York City, D.C., population fifty gazillion.”
She laughed. Maybe this part will be easier than I thought. “No, nothing like that. It’s quiet, surrounded by trees and lakes, trails for horseback riding or backpacking.”
“Sounds like my kind of place.”
Much easier than I thought. Once he saw it, saw the magnitude of the operation, the beauty of it, maybe, just maybe he’d seriously consider selling Androvich Lumber and then she could offer Norman a deal without any guilt… and then… maybe Nick would consider setting up practice somewhere closer to her… much closer…
“I think you’d really like it.”
He ran his hand up and down her back in long, slow strokes. “I like the quiet part.”
“Can you take off a few days?” His fingers curved to the side of her breast. Focus, focus, this is important.
“I should be able to get coverage for three, four days. And Mom can watch Justin.”
“I… I’d suggest taking him, but…” Will I ever get tired of his touch?
“Another time,” he said. “I like the idea of sleeping in the same bed with you the whole night, not sneaking out at one or two in the morning.”
“I do, too.”
“Give me a day or two to get coverage and then we can set a date.”
“Thank you.”
He pulled her into his arms, kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, her mouth. “Yeah, well, you can thank me another way.”
She laughed, fell back onto the blanket, his hard body covering hers. “So, what’s the name of this great hideout?” he asked, planting kisses along her neck.
He was driving her crazy, she wanted him. Again. “Krystal Springs.”
He was off of her and three feet away before her brain registered that something was wrong. “Krystal Springs? Please tell me you’re joking.” His words were angry, his body tense. “I wouldn’t set foot in that place for a million dollars.”
Alex scrambled to sit up, make sense of his reaction. “Why?” was all she could muster.
“Why? Why? How much do you know about that place?” His voice shook. “They flattened the town, Alex, the whole thing. They took people’s lives, flattened them right out, and turned the town into a playground for the rich.”
“No—”
“Yes, yes they did. They went in and tore up every house, every landmark, every sign of life as those people knew it.”
No. He was making it sound so cruel, sinister even. It wasn’t like that. “Those people received money for their property, all of them.”
“Jesus, Alex, is it always about money?” He yanked on his jeans. “Some fancy-talking attorney came to town with his right-hand man and convinced them it was the right thing to do.”
“How”— she kept her voice even, kept the fear from surfacing in her words—“how do you know that?” Eric had been the attorney and she…she had been the right-hand man.
“One of my father’s old friends lived there. We used to go fishing and camping up there when we were kids. There was nothing like it, it was so beautiful. Perfect, really. Crisp air, green all around, black dirt. You could see the mountains on a clear day. And then a big corporation came to town one day, started whacking away at the people, little by little, throwing dollar signs in front of their faces, convincing them they’d be better off in the suburbs with central vacuuming and two car garages.”
“Maybe they are.”
“Hell, no, they’re not.” He picked up a stone, skimmed it over the surface of the lake. It skipped eight times, disappeared. “Not anymore than the people in this town would be if somebody came and dumped a pile of money on their table and offered to buy them out.”
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get air…
“Leonard tried to hold on as long as he could, but he’s an old man, his health is failing…”
“Leonard?” She knew, knew what he was going to say next.
“Leonard Oshanski, my dad’s friend. He sold out for his nieces and nephews, he didn’t give a damn about the money. All he cared about was preserving a maple tree his father planted on their land when his little sister died. I told him not to count on it staying, even if they’d promised. People break promises all the time, but he said, no, this one person, this woman had given her word. And he believed her.” He let out a cold, hard laugh. “What do you think, Alex? You think that maple’s plowed ten feet under? I do, no doubt about it.”
***
“Are these absolutely delicious, or what?” Gracie spoke around a mouthful of Hot Ed’s sausage, pepper, and onion.
“They’re delicious,” Alex said, taking a bite. She and Gracie had gone to the Market Basket to get a few things on Stella’s list and halfway out of town, Gracie had a sudden craving for a Hot Ed’s sausage sub. And now, here they were.
“I really hope it’s okay if you eat this thing.”
Gracie grinned. “What’s the worst that could happen? I might go into early labor?” She dug out a french fry, dipped it in ketchup. “I’m thirty-seven weeks now and big as a house. Besides, I haven’t slept in a month, or”—she leaned over, whispered—“had sex with Rudy.” She laughed when Alex blushed. “I wouldn’t mind going into labor now. As a matter of fact, if I thought the sub would put me into labor, I’d eat another one.”
“You know what Nick said—”
She waved a hand at her. “Nick says a lot of things. That’s what big brothers are for, right? Especially, a big brother who’s a doctor—he’s really a pain, it’s like having a watchdog with you 24-7.”
“He just said be careful—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Don’t go wandering around too far from home, bring a cell phone, take a nap, blah, blah, blah.”
Alex smiled. “You are a very noncompliant patient.”
“Hey, Nick’s my brother, not my doctor.”
“So, what did your doctor say?”
She gave her a sheepish grin. “Same thing.”
“Eat your sub, Gracie.”
“I will.” She took another bite, leaned back in her chair, rubbed her belly with her left hand. “Oh, Ale
x, wait until you have kids one day. You’ll learn all the joys of hemorrhoids, veins, stretch marks, heartburn—” She stopped, clutched her belly. “Yow!”
“What? What is it, Gracie?”
The color drained from Gracie’s face. “I… I …” She massaged her fingers over her belly. “Oh, man!” She squeezed her eyes shut, took several quick little breaths. “It’s either heartburn or… I’m having a contraction.”
“I’ll call Nick.” Alex reached in her purse and grabbed her cell phone.
“Wait,” Gracie panted, “Just… wait. Don’t want to overreact.” She panted again, blinked hard. “I’m not sure.”
“Well, how will you know? We can’t just sit here, we need to get help.”
“Alex. Stop. Sometimes things just happen on their own… in their own time. Relax. I… I want to go home, lie down.”
“Okay, okay, I can get you there.” Action, Alex wanted to do something, anything. She went around to Gracie’s side, helped her to her feet. Gracie took a few steps, stopped, and said, “Forget home, take me to the hospital.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
Gracie sucked in a breath, gritted her teeth, “My water just broke.”
Alex couldn’t remember much after that; just a blur of voices and figures moving around her, beside her, giving instructions, encouragement. Alice was the first, running out of the kitchen carrying a stack of white hand towels. She helped Gracie stand, piled them on the red vinyl seat, her blue-veined bony hands flattening the material. Take it easy, Gracie, she’d said. Little breaths, now, that’s a girl. Okay, you’re gonna be just fine, just fine. She sat on a chair next to Gracie, held her hand. I’ll rub your back for you, Gracie, ease some of the pain. Hold on, hold on, that’s a girl.
Bernie called 911, then Nick, then Rudy, then Stella. Alex watched it all, a mere spectator, awed and… afraid. Yes, she had to admit it, she was afraid—afraid of the pain on her friend’s usually jovial face, afraid of a circumstance that stripped control and relied on God and fate for the outcome, afraid of the emotions running through the small diner, so raw, so stripped, so real.