No Coming Back

by Jessie Salisbury

  “Her mother’s planning an engagement party so we can announce all this,” Ken said.

  “It’ll be at our house.” Sue turned her full charm on Jewel. “I do hope you’ll come. We’ll make all the arrangements for . . .”

  She stopped and Jewel knew she meant the wheelchair and didn’t know how to phrase it.

  “Of course we’ll be there, Sue. And don’t worry about me. I pretty much go where I want to.” She knew that was only half-true. Even in this world of handicapped access ramps she rarely went out. She saw little need to. “But I will certainly be there for Ken” And Richard will surely be there . . .

  Sue smiled. “Wonderful. I’ll tell Mom.”

  Vi brought in the dessert, Ken’s favorite lemon pie and a selection of cookies to go with the coffee.

  Ken smiled his thanks at her. “You do know what I like, Vi. I hope I don’t miss your cooking too much.”

  “But I can learn, you know,” Sue said. “I’m a pretty good cook. Just let me know what you want.”

  He put his hand on hers and squeezed lightly. Their eyes met again and Jewel suddenly felt left out of a world they seemed to share. I am so glad for them. Now if only Richard can find someone as well.

  She squashed the thought. Tonight belonged to Ken and Sue.

  But later that evening while was preparing for bed, Jewel thought about it. I don’t know what Richard is doing, but, surely, he’ll be at the engagement announcement. He and Ken were always good friends. And if Jim and I are there, too . . .

  She didn’t continue the thought. There were so many things that could go wrong, and there was so much she didn’t know.

  I just want my family back together again, everyone at peace, not at swords points. Is that too much to ask?

  She was very much afraid that it was.

  33.

  Wendy Powers was home alone and miserable. Her head ached, her stomach was queasy, and she was angry. Bone-deep furious with the world and everyone in it. Frank said he had to go to the three-day convention/workshop in Charlotte for his company. He had to have the training on the new systems, there was no way that he could skip it, and he couldn’t take her with him. Rooms had been assigned and it was impossible to change the arrangements. He was sorry Wendy was not feeling well, he said, but hadn’t the doctor said it was normal and would soon pass? He suggested she spend the time with her mother if she wasn’t feeling well. He didn’t offer her any choices.

  Wendy knew Frank could have arranged for separate rooms for them if he had wanted to, and a separate flight down for both of them. He just had to be there for the workshop. Sure, it would have meant a little extra work on his part, and a little more money, but he could have done it. She was sure of it. And I’ve never been in North Carolina. There are art galleries and museums I could have gone to while he was at his conference and I’ve heard they have some great restaurants.

  But Frank had not yet adjusted to the idea of fatherhood, nor fully accepted it, almost acted as if he didn’t believe it, and he had made no changes in his routines. “Wendy,” he’d said, “you needed to adapt. You’re the mother. I’ll make the necessary adjustments when the baby comes.”

  And now she had an invitation to an engagement party. Ken and Susan’s engagement. It was almost more than she could stand. How could he do this to me? How can he marry that mousy little Susan Randall? Doesn’t he know I need him? I need somebody to talk to who understands. What am I going to do?

  She knew that was unreasonable, that she had no claim on Ken beyond the affection given to a younger sister. She knew that he had loved her once and she had disdained his offered love. Her marriage to Frank had ended whatever might have been. It was too late to go back. She knew that, and so did Ken. He had told her so. And then he had met Susan.

  But her anger needed a release and Ken was an easier target than Frank. She found a note card, a blank ‘Thinking of You’ card with a cheerful perky robin on the front. She didn’t feel at all like that. She wrote without really thinking about it, releasing her pent-up frustrations. She had to tell somebody.

  Ken, dear, there is no way I can attend your engagement party. I couldn’t stand it. I can’t bear to see you engaged to someone else, planning to marry Sue. I can’t wish you happiness when I have none. I want to see you one more time. I need to.

  She signed her name and sealed the envelope before she could change her mind. She mailed the letter when she went out for groceries.

  And then she wondered why she had done it, and what trouble it might cause for Ken. But there was no way she could get it back. She went back home and cried. When Frank called late in the evening she told him she was fine.

  34.

  The engagement party was set for Friday, but Rich didn’t want to go. Thinking about it tightened a hard knot in his stomach but he couldn’t see any polite or reasonable way to refuse his brother. Ken said he really wanted him to come. “And to be my best man, too.”

  Rich could not refuse him that, either, and said so. “I would be honored, Ken.” No matter how much I’m hurt, no matter what Jim says or does. “You’re my big brother.”

  Laura was to be the maid of honor in the small wedding party. Sue had picked three attendants, Laura, Julie and another cousin he didn’t know.

  Ken didn’t voice what he knew were Rich’s reservations, but Laura did. “You have to talk to your stepfather sometime,” she told him. “This party, with lots of people around, might be a good place to start.”

  “Um.” He recognized the logic in what she said, but it didn’t help. He knew he couldn’t delay a meeting forever since they were bound to eventually run into each other. I do live here and I will stay here.

  “He won’t cause a scene there, will he?” she asked. “Or is he the kind that causes scenes?”

  “Probably not.” He read the sympathy in her eyes and was grateful for her support. “There is a lot more to it than that. I can’t forgive what he said. Much less forget it.”

  “You could tell me what happened,” she said reasonably. “That might help.”

  He shook his head, unable to meet her gaze any longer. There was no way he could do that. Even for her.

  She put her hand on his arm. “Rich . . .”

  He met her eyes again for a moment, then slipped both arms around her and kissed her. “Someday,” he said, his face against her cheek. “I have to really confront him, I think, but I can’t do that. Not yet.”

  She rested her forehead against his shoulder. “I’m here to help, you know.”

  “I know.” He hesitated a moment, keeping her close. “Are we still just engaged to be engaged, or . . .”

  “Not yet. There are still a lot of things to work out.”

  “I’m working on them.” He kissed her again.

  “And I’m still waiting.”

  He had to be content with that.

  ~ ~ ~

  The Randalls invited a couple of dozen people to the Friday evening announcement party, relatives and family friends. Three downstairs rooms of the comfortable contemporary house were crowded and Rich felt out of place. A selection of drinks was arranged on the kitchen table and the dining room table was covered with tempting party platters and trays of finger foods. The living room was decorated with white crepe-paper streamers and a paper bell.

  There was no one there from his family except his parents and Rich had not yet gone into the living room where they were. He had known Sue’s parents for years, of course, from Pete’s long-ago high school parties and through the years of baseball.

  “Now you’re going to be a member of the family,” Sue’s mother said, bubbling with her enthusiasm. “And it’s so nice that you and Laura are getting together.”

  He tried to sound non-committal. “You know I met her again in the emergency room. I gu
ess maybe I need a nurse sometimes.”

  She smiled at that. “You’ll get better, Rich. These things take time. Do have some coffee or punch. The buffet’s over there. Help yourself.”

  Susan was radiating her happiness, proudly showing off her new ring and staying as close to Ken’s side as possible, frequently with her arm through his. Privately, Rich thought his brother had gone a bit overboard on buying diamonds, but he admired the ring with its large central stone and four smaller side stones. Laura declared it “lovely.”

  He wondered for a moment what kind of ring he could afford, if and when Laura would accept one. Hopefully one much less ostentatious.

  He had glimpsed his parents through an open door into the living room. His mother in her light traveling wheelchair was as bright and sunny as always, Jim big and hearty as usual, was standing beside her. He could hear Jim’s voice but so far he had managed to avoid talking to them by staying with Pete and Ken. He could feel Laura watching him from across the room, waiting for him to do something, to make that first move, and tried to control his trembling. How can I do that?

  He filled his plate at the buffet table, choosing both chicken and crab salad rolls from the many items offered, decided against one of the salads, picked up a stuffed egg, and found a place at one side of the room to sit. He was out of the general movement of the guests, where he could watch them and hopefully not be noticed. But, from the corner of his eye, he saw Jim come through the doorway opposite, look around, locate him and come his way.

  From force of habit and ingrained good manners, Rich put his plate on a side table and stood up. He could see no means of escape. What do I say? How do I prevent that scene Laura’s worried about? I don’t want that, either. Surely not here, not right now . . . He clenched his fists to stop the trembling. And why am I afraid of him? He only knew that he was and that he shouldn’t be.

  Jim’s smile was obviously forced and it gave Rich a small measure of courage and helped steady his resolve. He doesn’t like this any better than I do. Does that mean he feels guilty?

  “Jim. Hello,” Rich said as calmly as possible. It was the best he could manage. He did not offer his hand.

  Jim stopped beside him and did not offer his hand, either. “Rich. How’s the knee doing?”

  “I manage to get around.”

  “I hear you’re working at that plastics place north of town.”

  Rich nodded, then added because he felt forced to, “I need a job that is easy on the knee, where I can sit a lot.”

  “You don’t think you can go back to teaching?”

  “Gym classes? Coaching?” He tried to keep the hurt out of his voice.

  Jim looked directly at him, not quite frowning. “Come back, Rich. I can offer you something better than making plastic boxes.”

  The offer stiffened his resolve. “You told me to never ask you for anything.”

  “You’re not asking me. I’m asking you.”

  “And I’m saying no. I don’t need your help. Now or ever.”

  “You’re just as pig-headed as you ever were.” Jim was keeping his voice low, conversational.

  Rich heard the unspoken words, Just like your father. “No. I’m just standing alone, that’s all. You said I couldn’t do it and I am. Even if you did leave me only one good leg to stand on.”

  Jim clenched his teeth together and his face flushed.

  Rich stepped sideways away from him. “I’ll manage on my own.”

  “I’m offering,” Jim said stonily, “to forget everything, start over fresh.”

  Rich laughed. “You forget? You can’t and I can’t. I could forgive maybe, someday, but I can never forget. What’s done is done. There is no coming back for me. You saw to that.”

  “Okay. So go to hell in your own hand basket.” He spun away.

  Involuntarily, Rich said, “Jim . . .”

  Jim glanced back over his shoulder. “I’m not locking the door, boy, but you’re going to have to pound like hell to get back in.”

  Rich watched him go, the hard knot in his chest making breathing difficult. He realized that he was now truly alone where before, unconsciously, he had half believed that he could still return someday, as his mother had asked, that they were still there for him if he needed them. Now he couldn’t.

  He felt someone beside him and Laura put her hand on his arm. He kept his gaze on the door Jim had just walked through, back into the room where his mother was.

  “Was it bad, Rich? He looked angry.”

  He could feel her concern, her reassurance, through her hand on his arm and it thawed some of the ice forming around his heart. He slipped one arm around her. “Very bad. And he won’t get over the anger this time.”

  She squeezed his arm lightly. “I’ll tell my aunt and Sue that we have to go. You look a little pale.”

  Pete approached as she left. “I saw you talking.”

  Rich grimaced, not answering.

  Pete clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Sorry.”

  “It’s all right. At least it will be.”

  “Well, Julie’s decided on a date in August for us. At the Methodist Chapel. And at the Olive Garden afterward.”

  Rich released a long breath, regaining control. “Sounds good.”

  “Just family and the team.”

  He saw Laura returning with Sue behind her. “I guess we’re leaving,” he told Pete.

  Pete signaled his sympathy with a crooked grin.

  Ken approached from the other side. “I’m glad you came, Rich. I saw . . .”

  Rich shook his head.

  “Oh,” Ken said.

  Laura slipped her arm through Rich’s. “We do have to leave, Sue. Good luck to both of you.”

  “Thanks.”

  There was nothing left to say except, “I’ll go and say good night to my mother.” He had to do that much.

  Rich stayed quiet on the way home. Laura agreed to stay with him for a while. “In case you need to talk. I’m here for you.”

  “Thanks.” He squeezed her fingers.

  She smiled at him. “It will all work out, Rich. Eventually.”

  He hoped she was right.

  35.

  Ken Weston woke sometime during Thursday night and knew he was coming down with something nasty. His head ached, his throat was scratchy, and his stomach was queasy. As soon as it was daylight, not wanting to get him out of bed, he called his foreman Jason Wells. “I’m coming down with some kind of bug. I think I’d better go home before I feel worse, in case I might need a doctor. Is there anything I need to know before I go?”

  “No. I think we covered everything last night and didn’t see any problems. Just take it easy. Those things usually last three days. That’s why they call it the twenty-four-hour flu.” He chuckled. “I can handle everything until Monday, Ken. Go home and get some TLC.”

  “Well, you have my number in case something comes up.” With that, Ken drove home. When he got there two hours later, he felt much worse. His stomach was churning and he knew he would be sick. He detested vomiting.

  Jewel told him to go to bed and he did so gratefully.

  He awoke sometime in the afternoon with an excruciating headache. He realized after a few moments that his head was pounding in time with loud music from across the hall. He leveraged himself out of bed, went to the bathroom, and stopped at Archie’s bedroom door.

  “Could you turn it down a little, Arch? I’ve got a headache.”

  The boy scowled at him. “I like it this way.”

  “Just this once. Just a little?”

  “Why? This is my room.”

  “I know, but I can hear it in mine.”

  “Too bad.”

  Ken crossed the room and turned the volume d
own to what he considered a normal level. “Like that?”

  Archie walked to the doorway and called down the stairs, “Mom, Ken won’t let me listen to my music.”

  Ken released a long breath trying to control his temper. “I just turned it down a little. I have a headache.”

  “Archie, keep it down, please. Ken, why don’t you take an aspirin or something?”

  “I’ll do that.” He found the bottle in the bathroom and went back to bed. Archie turned up the volume again, but not quite as much.

  When Ken woke up a few hours later, he was again struck by a sickening wave of nausea and staggered into the bathroom.

  Afterward, cold and clammy, he went back to bed. He could not get warm in spite of an extra blanket.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jewel and Vi decided Ken had probably picked up a virus of some kind, one of the many currently going around, and that he didn’t need to go the emergency room or call the doctor unless it got worse. Vi brought him tea and toast, but he was able to down very little of it. He thought he was going to die, and almost wished he would.

  In the morning, however, he felt much better, was able to drink tea and nibble a few crackers. Vi brought him a large handful of mail. “It’s been collecting. You haven’t been home for a couple of weeks, you know.”

  “Thanks.”

  He looked at it without interest. Advertisements. Several catalogs. A statement from Summers and Smith Trucking Company that should have gone to the company office. And a pale pink envelope addressed to him in familiar handwriting.

  He read Wendy’s plea without feeling anything but sadness. There was nothing he could do for her. He was struck by another wave of nausea, threw all of the envelopes onto the bedside table, and collapsed back on his pillow. He lay still, alternating between chills and sweating, and forgot the note.

  He hadn’t noticed that Frank and Wendy didn’t attend the engagement party.