She knew they would have to talk, make decisions about their marriage. She just didn't know if she was ready.
"Merrilee."
Reluctantly, she turned to look at him. His face was haggard. There was fear in his eyes and that gave her hope.
After a moment, she walked over to the kitchen table and sat down. Richard silently followed.
They sat there like two strangers for almost five minutes. Finally, Richard spoke. "It's not an excuse, but I was lonely, Merrilee. You don't seem to need me in your life."
"What do you mean? Everything I do is for you and the children. I cook your meals. I take care of your house. I hem your goddamned pants. I sew your buttons on, even when sluts like that Blair probably tear them off."
"But you don't love me," Richard said simply. "You used to. I don't know when things changed. One day I realized it had been a month since we'd made love. The next time I looked at the calendar it had been three months, then four. You're so damned independent, you don't need me for anything, not even sex."
"This is not my fault. Don't try to pin it on me."
Merrilee started to rise, but Richard pulled her back down. "We need to talk. We've needed to talk for months."
"You apparently needed more than talk."
"I'm sorry."
Merrilee sent him a look of amazement. "That's supposed to make it better?"
"Nothing can make it better. We're going nowhere, except further apart. I think I've been wanting you to find me like that for months. It seemed the more I rubbed it in your face, the more you denied it was happening. After a while, I figured if you didn't care, why should I?"
"I do care. I love you." Her voice filled with pain, and she knew he could hear it. "I've never loved anyone but you. From the day we met, I've been afraid I wouldn't be good enough. You were the life of the party, everybody's best friend. I was never that, and I couldn't imagine that you'd stay with me. After we had the children, I guess I wasn't as interested in sex as you were, then the longer it was in between, the more doubts I had that I was any good at it."
"Rather than risk being bad, you stopped altogether."
"You found your pleasure elsewhere, so what difference does it make?"
"A lot. I remember how we were that first year we fell in love, necking on your father's couch for hours. We couldn't get enough of each other. What happened to the girl I fell in love with?"
"She grew up, Richard." Merrilee sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. She didn't want to talk about the past, the way she had been as a young girl, the hopes and dreams she had carried in her heart. She had fallen in love with Richard when she was twenty years old. Richard was the one she had clung to when her mother died, just a year after their first meeting.
Now she could barely remember why they had gotten together. He was nothing like that young man, and she was nothing like that young girl.
"You didn't grow up, you grew hard," Richard said. "After your mother died, you became more concerned with controlling everyone's life than just loving them."
"I had to take control. I was the oldest. Jenny was only fifteen years old. She needed me."
"In the beginning, maybe, but not for the past ten years, Merrilee. You know, I work a lot of overtime, most of it legitimately, because you have such high expectations. I've been killing myself trying to live up to your standards. But I can't do it."
"I never told you to work overtime. I just wanted you to have a successful career. And this isn't about my standards, Richard. You cheated on me. I don't know if I can ever forgive you for that."
"I'm sure you can't. Just like you can never forgive Jenny for loving Luke and having Danny out of wedlock, and you can never forgive Matt for not making it in the pros. You're just like your father." He took off his tie and laid it on the table in front of them, a battle line of red silk.
"I'm not like my father," Merrilee said in horror.
"Yes, you are. John is old and isolated, because he can't accept people for what they are. I see you doing it to our children. William is so determined to get good grades, I caught him studying at midnight with a flashlight. He's eleven years old, for God's sake."
Richard's criticism cut through her soul, and Merrilee hated to admit there was even a hint of truth to it. "You're a fine one to talk, Richard. You're not even home with the children. And I love my brother and sister. They don't feel that I'm critical and controlling."
"Don't they? Come on, Merrilee. Lie to me if you want, but don't lie to yourself. And don't you feel the same way about your own father? That what you do is never good enough?"
Merrilee looked away from his eyes. Of course, she did. He was right -- at least about John. She would give him that much. But Matt and Jenny were different. They knew she loved them. Didn't they?
"This is not just about me, Richard," Merrilee said forcefully. "You used to listen to me. You used to share things. I can't talk to you anymore. Even when you're physically in the house, mentally you're somewhere else. I've had sole responsibility for the kids for years now, and it's wearing on me, too. Constance is always pushing her limits, testing me, and William is right behind her. You want to talk about pressure, stay home for a few days and deal with your kids."
Richard looked taken aback. "You always look so calm, like you've spent the day painting your fingernails."
"I work every second trying to make it look that way, but it's not, Richard. It's not, dammit." She stood up and began to pace, agitated out of her mind.
"So what do we do now?" Richard asked.
She stopped and stared at him. "I don't know. Do you think we have anything left to save?"
"Do you?"
Merrilee was afraid to say yes, to put her heart on the line, but this was her marriage they were talking about, her life.
"We could go to a counselor," Richard suggested quietly.
A counselor? An outsider? Pour out her troubles to a complete stranger? She would feel like a failure, a misfit. "I don't know if I could do that," she said.
Richard stood up and put his hands on her shoulders. "We have to do something, Merrilee. Unless -- unless you want to call it quits?"
Did she? Merrilee leaned against the kitchen counter. She thought about the past seventeen years and knew she had invested too much in this man to just walk away. But how could she ever trust him again? Would she spend the rest of her life wondering if he was working late or with another woman? Was that worse than being alone? She was almost forty years old. She didn't want to start over. And the children. They loved their father.
"Can you give me another chance?" Richard asked.
Merrilee took in a deep breath and let it out. "I'll think about it."
The kitchen door opened and William walked in. "Is it time for dinner, yet?" he asked.
Merrilee sighed. Dinner. Her whole life had changed, but there was still dinner to get on the table.
"In a second," she said. "Why don't you call your sister?"
William sent her a strange look. "Connie? She's not here."
"What do you mean, she's not here?"
"She left with that guy on the motorcycle, about an hour ago. I told her you'd be mad," William said, nodding his head up and down in a knowing manner. "But she said all you cared about was Danny."
"What?" Merrilee ran through the house and opened the front door. The street in front of the house was empty. Fragmented conversations with Constance ran through her mind, the late-night phone calls, the whispers, the makeup.
Richard put his arm around her waist. "She'll be all right."
"I can't believe she's run off like this. Just like Danny," she added, suddenly more frightened than angry. So much could happen to a child. How did a parent let go?
"It's not like Danny at all. Ifs a Saturday night, and she's a teenager," Richard said.
"And that's supposed to make me feel better? I can't just do nothing." Merrilee strode back in the house. "I'll call her friends. Somebody must know where she went."
* * *
Danny looked over at Jacob. "I don't suppose you know where Connie went?"
"I might."
"I can't believe she ran away because of me." Danny walked up the stairs to Constance's bedroom. His Aunt Merrilee was sitting on the bed looking totally depressed. She was holding a piece of paper in her hand, and shaking her head as if she couldn't believe what she was reading.
Jacob muttered something under his breath as he peered over Merrilee's shoulder.
"What does it say?" Danny asked.
"Said she's tired of living in a house where nobody has time for her anymore."
"Because of me?"
"Looks that way. Yep, in fact she mentions you by name."
"Great."
Danny looked up as Richard walked into the room. He paused in the doorway, hands in his pockets. "I've called everyone, Merrilee. No one has seen her or heard from her."
"It's past eleven, Richard. She's not coming back." Merrilee handed him the note. "She's run away."
Richard took the paper from her hand. "Goddammit," he said.
"It's my fault. I shouldn't have spent so much time at the hospital the last two weeks. I should have been here for my daughter."
"It's our fault." He held out his hand. "Come on downstairs. I called Matt. He's trying to track her down."
"Actually it's my fault," Danny said to Jacob as Merrilee and Richard left the room. He sat down at Constance's desk and looked at the photographs she had stuck up on her bulletin board. He had never been super close to Connie. She was older and always bossy, but they had had some fun times over the years. He reached out to move a photograph that was hidden behind another. It was a picture of him and Connie at a birthday party. They were both stuffing cake in their mouths and hamming it up for the camera. He smiled to himself. At least Connie had some guts. Not like William, who never did anything wrong.
He felt bad that she had rim away because of him. He rested his chin in his hands. Things were getting complicated. He had just wanted to find his dad, not mess up everyone else's life. He had wanted things to be better, only now they were worse.
"Maybe I should just be dead," he said glumly.
Jacob spun him around in the chair. "You're quitting on me, kid?"
"It would be easier for everyone."
"And maybe easier for you, too."
"I wasn't thinking about myself. Not this time, anyway."
"Good. I can't stand a quitter."
"I just wish I could make everything right. I could do that if I were an angel, a real angel, couldn't I?" Danny asked, suddenly realizing how much more power he would have.
"Yeah, but you'd be dead, kid."
"That's right."
"It's the good with the bad. Balls and strikes. Roses and thorns -- "
"I get the picture," Danny said.
"About time. Come on. No point in sitting around here. Your Uncle Matt needs our help. Are you in?"
Danny smiled and gave him a high five in response.
* * *
"Jenny, are you in here?" Luke walked through the kitchen into the garage. He stopped in amazement. He had been expecting to see a typical garage, maybe some boxes, a washer, dryer, bicycles, but what he saw was a complete workshop.
There was a workbench filled with shelves and boxes. A hot glue gun sat on the top counter next to a pair of needle-nosed pliers. There were scraps of fabric, gold and silver wires, shells and beads and long strands of thread. Jenny had set up a card table next to the workbench, and there were various pieces of jewelry on display, some obviously finished, others waiting for completion. On the ground next to the table was a stack of boxes, all different sizes, tissue paper, and ribbon.
Jenny looked up as he approached. "Are you back already?"
"Yes. The food's on the table. There wasn't much of a line at this hour."
Jenny glanced down at her watch. "Almost nine. I hadn't realized."
"We've been busy."
"I took up your whole day. I'm sorry."
"Don't be, I enjoyed it."
He watched as Jenny carefully applied what looked like clear glue to the top of a shell. Her movements were carefully controlled, efficient, not a motion wasted.
"What are you doing?" he asked curiously. Although he had helped her collect the shells, he had never really considered what she was going to do with them.
"I'm adding form and substance to the shell. This will dry in a hard pattern, a heart. See?"
Luke bent his head to take a closer look. "It's perfect. You're pretty good at this."
"Practice. After it dries, I'll paint it. I'm trying to develop more complex designs, mixing the gold and silver filigree with the shells to give the jewelry a more expensive look."
Luke moved around to the other side of her. Besides earrings and necklaces, Jenny had made small jewelry boxes out of some type of clay.
"These are nice," he said.
Jenny smiled. "A step above the white cardboard, anyway."
"I'm impressed. I had no idea you were so talented," Luke said. And he was impressed. On the shelves over her workbench, Jenny had a stack of books, some about crafts, others about running a business. This was obviously not a part-time hobby for her. She had invested time, money, and energy into her enterprise.
"It's not such a big deal." Jenny stretched her arms high over her head. She was wearing black leggings and a soft winter white sweater. She looked adorable, sexy, and exhausted. They had had a busy day, finding seashells, running errands, and visiting Danny. He was amazed at her endurance, and the pace that was a part of her daily life.
"You should go home. It's late," Jenny said.
"I should," he agreed. But as he turned to leave, he tripped over a step stool.
Jenny caught him in her arms with a laugh. "Easy."
He hugged her body to steady himself and because it felt so damn good to be close to her.
Her laughter ended abruptly as he turned his face toward hers. Her mouth was just a breath away. It would be so easy to kiss her and so tempting. She had held him at arm's length all day, and he had let her. But now she wasn't moving, and neither was he.
"Luke." She said his name like a plea, but he didn't know if she wanted him to go or to stay.
"One kiss."
She shook her head. "Five," she whispered with a smile."
"Ten"
"Fifteen."
"Jenny, you're negotiating upward."
"Shut up and kiss me."
He lowered his head.
The phone in the kitchen rang. Jenny immediately stepped away. He knew she had to answer it. The hospital could be calling about Danny.
He followed her into the kitchen and leaned against the doorjamb as Jenny picked up the receiver. He watched her face tighten with alarm. Please don't let it be Danny, he prayed.
"What can I do to help, Merrilee?" Jenny asked.
Luke relaxed. Merrilee. Not the hospital. Thank God.
"How long has she been gone?" Jenny looked down at her watch. "It's almost nine."
Luke met her worried eyes. She put a hand over the receiver and whispered, "Connie has run away." Jenny turned her attention back to Merrilee. "I'm on my way. No, I want to come. I love her, too." She hung up the phone.
"Jenny, you've been working all day. You should go to bed."
"I have to look for Connie."
"I'll come with you."
"No." Jenny put a hand out as he tried to protest. "Go home, Luke. This is my family, not yours."
Her words cut him to the quick, and he turned away so she wouldn't see the pain on his face. "Fine." He picked his keys up off the counter and headed for the door.
"Luke, wait. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."
He looked into Jenny's eyes. "You've made it clear you don't want my help. I just don't understand why."
"I don't want to be dependent on you, Luke. For a while you were my whole life, and when you left, I had nothing. I can't risk that again
. I won't go into a relationship unless I can be an equal partner."
"We are equal, Jenny, in every way that counts."
"You're rich. I'm not."
"I can give you money, but you give me so much more. This day was perfect, Jenny." He cupped her face with his hands. "We shared our responsibilities, our dreams. We laughed. We argued. We kissed."
"We didn't kiss," she said softly.
"Let me correct that."
Luke touched her mouth with his. He kissed her with a hunger and a need that went beyond anything he had ever felt before. She was his past, his present, and his future. He wanted her to know it, beyond a doubt.
Jenny pulled away, breathless. Her beautiful brown eyes were filled with desire -- for him.
"We can't go back to the way we were," she said.
"I don't want to go back. I want to go forward."
"Luke, I can't do this right now. Connie -- "
"I know. You have to help your family. Are you sure I can't help?"
"Not this time. But maybe sometime. That's all I can give you right now."
"I'll take it."
* * *
Matt walked into the rowdy bar known only as Joe's, located off a rural road in Woodside. It was a popular spot for bikers, not far from the highway but far enough from the highway patrol. The beer was cheap and cold, the music loud, and the air as nicotine rich as a Marlboro cigarette.
He paused inside the front door, checking out the action before committing himself entirely. He had been hit by enough lineman to be able to take a punch, and he had thrown a few in his time, too, but his body was a lot softer than it used to be. Besides that, he was sober. It had been three days since he had had a drink. A record for him.
Shaking his head, Matt moved further into the bar. The only women present were much older than his niece. They all looked old and hard, some dressed in black leather, some in tight jeans, others in miniskirts, but every outfit screamed out the word sex.
Matt looked around the room, at every table, at every face. No sign of Connie. Thank God! He could leave.
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