No Coming Back

by Jessie Salisbury

  Rich drew in a long breath and expelled it slowly. “It’s all right, Ken. You meant well. You just can’t know how it makes me feel.”

  “I’m sorry, really.” He paused a long moment looking beyond him at the park. “Then, after that, I was supposed to take you home to see Mother.”

  “I wouldn’t have gone in. I can’t.” He stared out the windshield. “There is no going back for me. Ever.”

  “You could, if you’d let yourself get past what happened.”

  “I can’t do that, either.”

  Ken didn’t answer for a moment. “Still okay for lunch?”

  Rich sighed. This isn’t his fault and he’s trying to help. “Sure. I do have to eat and I get tired of eating alone.”

  25.

  Standing on the walkway in front of the doctor’s office, Wendy Powers tried to get her thoughts in order and her fear under control. What was it she had told the doctor? When had she first realized something was wrong? Last week when I felt sick? Did all this come on gradually like I told her? That I didn’t notice anything?

  But three months? She found that hard to accept. Her periods had never been regular and she had occasionally skipped a month, and they were frequently painful. But she was sure she had been careful about her pills, even though her obstetrician had told her, during an examination before she was married, that getting pregnant might be difficult.

  “It happens sometimes,” the doctor had said. “Mother Nature has a way of doing her thing, not ours. You have to accept that you’re pregnant. Or not.”

  There was no question about accepting the situation. Her baby would arrive in December. Just in time for Christmas.

  Wendy walked slowly to her car. But how am I going to tell Frank? He’s never said he wanted children, always said he wasn’t really crazy about them. Besides, there was plenty of time for a family when he was established. If we wanted one.

  And then the thought: If only this were Ken’s and not Frank’s.

  That thought frightened her. Frank was her husband, her baby’s father, the man she had admired so greatly, had loved and adored so ardently. But a man who demanded so much of her and gave so little in return.

  She drove out of the parking lot. Ken has left me, too, said he couldn’t ever see me again like that. He has someone else. He no longer wants me.

  She had always known that would happen, that he would eventually find someone else. But that mousy little Sue Randall? Meeting Ken could not solve her problems with Frank, but it had been exciting, filling some of her need for the love she felt Frank was denying her. And right now I need him!

  She drove into her side of the garage. Frank would be getting home precisely at six and she had to have dinner well under way, giving him time to change, have a drink maybe, but how do I tell him if he isn’t in a mood to talk about something besides his work?

  She walked past the glass-fronted cabinet that held her years-long collection of little cats and noticed the dust. I’ve been neglecting them I’ll do that tomorrow. I have to do something tomorrow.

  For a moment she considered calling her mother, but decided to postpone it. Why give her something else to worry about?

  26.

  Laura Boutelle stood in the middle of the living room in Rich’s apartment, her hands on her hips, critically eying the splotched beige paint on the walls, the few mismatched pieces of used furniture, and the worn brown and yellow tile-patterned linoleum in the kitchen end of the room. The two narrow windows did not let in enough sunlight, and part of that was obscured by the blinds. The kitchenette was hopelessly inadequate with little counter space and undersized appliances. A large calendar with a picture of a field of wildflowers was the one bright spot in the room.

  “Rich, you really have to find a better place to live. This one is just too depressing for words. No wonder you’re so gloomy.”

  “Move to where?” He was sitting in the one decent chair in the room, a recliner he had recently found at Good Will because he needed better support for his leg and back. There was no longer any other place to sit except an old hassock.

  Laura regarded him silently for a long moment, not answering his question. She was pleased that he was looking more cheerful. He had lost much of his hospital paleness but his inside job and lack of physical exercise did not encourage a tan. She revised that to “a healthy glow,” since sun tans were now considered bad for the skin. Rich needed a lot more outside activity. He’s a good-looking man. A good man, and he really needs someone—me?—to help him heal completely, to get back to what he is supposed to be, a good teacher. But what can I do?

  Laura had been joining him for supper occasionally during the past two weeks on her days off, usually preparing something simple for them in his tiny kitchen, although they had twice gone out for pizza.

  She glanced toward the kitchenette. “Getting a meal here is next to impossible. A decent meal, anyway.”

  “I like anything you fix, Laura. And I like you coming here to fix it.” His voice was warm and confiding. “You brighten up the place.”

  She smiled at him. “Then come and have supper. It’s only mac-and-cheese and a salad, and I had to buy the brownies. Your oven doesn’t work properly. I’d rather do something more elaborate, but this is so cramped.”

  He pushed himself out of his chair. He paused a moment to steady his left knee, resting his hand on the back of the chair, then stepped toward her, his eyes smiling into hers. “You make even that a feast.”

  “Flatterer.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him, hoping it was flirtatious. “But I like it.”

  He encircled her with his arms. “And I really like you, you know.”

  “I like you, too, Rich.” She met his kiss more eagerly than she intended, let him hold her tighter against him. She slipped her arms around his neck and gave herself completely to his embrace.

  “I more than like you,” he whispered into her hair and held her tighter. “And you’re right, this is no place to ask a girl to come to.”

  “You were thinking of asking me to move in with you?” The idea was suddenly appealing although she had not considered it before. She had always thought marriage rather than live in. Maybe she was just old-fashioned.

  “More than that. I’ve only known you, really known you, for a couple of months, but you know what they say about milk.”

  She accepted his lingering kiss. “What about milk?”

  “You don’t have to drink the whole quart to know it’s sweet.” He moved one arm to her waist, holding her against him.

  She pressed against him. “I thought that was to know that it was sour.”

  “Sweet,” he said. “You’re sweet. And I’m asking you to consider marrying me. Not right now, but when I have everything settled. One way or another.”

  She pulled away enough to be able to meet his eyes again. “It’s much too soon.” She smiled. “But I might consider myself being engaged to be engaged.”

  “I’ll accept that. For now.” His mouth found hers and she again responded to his obvious desire, knew her own was growing as intense. She disengaged her arms and pushed him away from her, not daring to go any farther. “But right now isn’t the time for this.”

  “Why not?”

  Why not indeed? Why not now? We will sometime soon. “I like you, too, Rich,” she said. “But let’s not spoil it by being too hasty.”

  He let go of her. “If you aren’t sure . . .”

  She saw the hurt in his eyes and stepped closer again. Maybe this is what he needs. Someone to really love him. Unconditionally. “But I am sure this is the right thing for us to talk about.”

  He turned away. “You’re probably right. Let’s have supper, and talk about where we would live—when you do move in—since it isn’t here. We kind of need to have clear minds to do th
at.”

  She smiled, but could think of no answer. This is for him to decide. He is the one needing help, and that’s what I want to give him, the best way I can. Whatever it is.

  “You’ll help me with apartment hunting? Find some place you’d like? Where you could be happy? With me?”

  There was a stronger, more decisive, note in his voice and it heartened her. “I’d really like a house. Privacy. With your new position, the higher salary, you should be able to do that.” She slid her arm through his and steered him toward the kitchen. “And I have three days off each week for looking.”

  “Get a house, get engaged, move in, get married? In that order?”

  She laughed softly. “Maybe not in that order. I’ve always wanted an apple blossom wedding. Is a year too long to wait?”

  “Not if I have you in the meantime.”

  “Sit,” she ordered, “and eat. And we’ll talk about all of this.”

  She put plates and glasses on the small table while considering her next move. How far can I go in nudging him the way I think he should go? Toward what I think is the right way? And how do I know what that right way is? He has never spoken of whatever it was that hurt him so terribly that it drove him out into the ice storm that nearly killed him. And how can I help him recover from that if I don’t know the root of the problem? Or if he doesn’t really want to solve it, or get over it?

  She knew only that she had to try.

  He accepted the bowl of tossed salad without looking at her. “You’re thinking about my going back to teaching. That I can’t waste my life in a plastics plant, even as assistant department manager.”

  Relieved that he had raised the question, she said, “Sort of.”

  He picked up his fork. “I had to ask to extend my leave of absence until second semester. You do it one semester at a time. I told them I was still in therapy and working on it. That I was still thinking about it.”

  She saw a ray of hope, a door opening. “You still have a place at Valley High? In January?”

  “So they said. If I want it. I don’t know about after that, next year.”

  “Then there is time for you to recover, to get all of your strength back?”

  “I guess.”

  Her basic questions had been answered. He might still be convinced to go back, as his leg improved. “And there is still the rest of this evening. For us to celebrate all of this. Did you pick up a movie?’”

  “That romantic thing you said you wanted.”

  “Great.” She met his eyes and agreed with what she saw there. “We could use a little romance.”

  27.

  On July third, Susan Randall received a call from Ken Weston. She had not expected to hear from him since they had made no plans for celebrating the Fourth. It was a midweek holiday and he would be upcountry.

  “I have to stay up here later today than I planned to make sure everything is in order for when we come back,” he said. “So I won’t drive down until early tomorrow. How about if I pick you up around ten and we go somewhere for lunch and then out to Hampton Beach to watch the fireworks? I’ve always wanted to see them over the ocean.”

  “You don’t celebrate with your family?”

  “Not usually. Do you?”

  “Not in any big way. There’s a cookout at my uncle’s, and sometimes we go to fireworks somewhere. Nothing I can’t easily skip.”

  “Then I can have you to myself for a whole day at the beach?”

  Their dates so far had been for dinners and an evening out, sometimes a Saturday event, but all casual. All very nice but not fulfilling. I’m ready for a lot more than that. Without thinking, she said, “You can have me for as many days as you’d like wherever you’d like.” And she realized she meant it and was glad.

  She heard him catch his breath. “Forever, Sue?”

  “Forever.”

  After a pause, he said, “I’ll see you as early as I can.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Susan decided to dress for a sunny day at the beach, shorts, and a spaghetti-strap low-cut top. She had a full figure, but sometimes thought herself a little over endowed. In public, she generally wore loose blouses, not a braless top she might spill out of. Maybe a wardrobe malfunction would get his attention?

  She packed a tote bag with what she thought she might need, sunscreen, flip-flops for walking in the surf, a sweater because evenings could be chilly on the shore even in July, a casual blouse and a wrap-around skirt in case they chose a nicer restaurant than a clam shack.

  Her parents decided to leave early for the family cookout. “You and Ken have a great day at the beach, even though it will probably be awfully crowded,” Emily Randall said. “We really like him, you know.”

  Sue knew Ken had made a good impression the first time he had come for her. “Such nice old-fashioned good manners,” her mother had said. “Most young people don’t have those anymore.”

  Her father, George, had added, “And you certainly can’t question his background and credentials.”

  Thankfully, they had never asked how she had met him, simply accepted that it had been through Pete and Rich. She didn’t want to think about that night. Except it brought him to me.

  ~ ~ ~

  Susan was waiting when Ken arrived. Her eager anticipation had turned into hopeful expectation, smothering her usual cautious reserve where he was concerned. She didn’t want to let her growing desire for him show too much, too soon. Her initial infatuation, which Laura had laughingly called her unrequited worship from afar and trying to live a fairy tale, had grown steadily into real love. And Ken seemed to be accepting that or is it just my need? Does he really want me as much as I want him?

  She met him at the front door and pulled him into the foyer, closing the door behind him, and then held out her arms. She noted the surprise on his face, his appreciation of her attire, or lack of it.

  He kissed her gently as he always did, but she slid both arms around his neck and gathered him into an embrace, letting all her pent-up emotions free. She felt him tense a second as if surprised, and then he wrapped both arms around her and held her close, his mouth hard against hers.

  When he released her and moved back a half step, she looked up into his eyes and said softly, “I have been waiting for you. For a long time.”

  “I’m here.” He sounded a little startled.

  She kept her eyes on his. “I fell in love with you the first time I saw you at a ball game when you came to watch Rich play.”

  “I didn’t see you there.”

  She sighed, she hoped not too dramatically, but didn’t move her gaze from his. “I know. You were in another world.”

  He pulled her closer again. “Baseball isn’t my thing. I only went because Rich asked.” His eyes were on hers and his hands were on her waist, holding her. He bent his head suddenly and kissed the exposed swell of her breast.

  She slid both arms around his neck and he raised his face to hers for another long kiss.

  When she drew back, she said, “We don’t really have to stand here in the hall. We have the house to ourselves.”

  He hesitated a moment. “I was kind of planning on the beach . . .”

  “I’d love to go to the beach,” she whispered, “sand dunes in the moonlight, all that romantic stuff.”

  “I don’t read romances, but I can imagine.”

  She pressed against him again. “And I can describe all of that sort of thing for you if you want me to. Show you how it’s done.”

  “I think I’d like that.”

  “I’ll get my bag and we can go look for that spot.”

  “There are no sand dunes at Hampton. We’d have to go the Cape for that.”

  “So?”

 
His hands had moved to the sides of her breasts, his thumbs gently caressing the fullness, pushing the flimsy fabric back against the nipples. “Next time.”

  “And this time?” she asked.

  “I have a motel room in case the fireworks run really late . . .”

  She laughed. “I’ll get my things for an overnight.”

  As she turned away, he said, “And how about a tee shirt? I’d like to keep all of that you’re showing off just for me.”

  She glanced back at him. “It is for you, Ken. All of it.”

  She thought he was going to follow her into the living room, hoped for a moment that he would, and then realized his idea was better. That first time really needed a romantic setting. The more romantic the better. “I’ll just be a sec.”

  28.

  Jewel Weston did not often invite Frank and Wendy to dinner—Jim did not enjoy Frank’s company, either—but the occasion of Wendy’s birthday on July 7th called for more than an afternoon tea.

  Frank’s visit to Jim and Frank’s suspicions caused her to think more carefully about the recent past. Ken had been acting a little odd. For years she had watched the growing affection between him and Wendy and had hoped it might deepen, but Ken left for college and then Wendy had met Frank.

  At first Jim had approved of Frank, the son of an old friend, a prominent attorney. Frank was good-looking, well educated, and he had confided to Jim his plans for a future in a world of developing electronics. Wendy had been smitten from the first.

  But Frank’s arrogance had soon grown tiresome, to everyone but Wendy who called it self-assurance. Jim had said little against the marriage, gave in with uncharacteristic good grace, and ignored Frank whenever possible. Jewel simply hoped that they would be happy.