A Katherine Reay Collection

by Katherine Reay

  The Infusion Center sign looked larger today. I’d thought so when we came for the blood draw earlier and conceded it was probably because I now appreciated the power of these drugs and this place. I glanced away and found Cecilia striding across the room.

  “I’ve been waiting for you. Welcome back.”

  “Let’s do this thing.” Jane’s voice reminded me of baking chocolate—dark, flat, and flaky.

  Cecilia smiled. “I’ll suit up.”

  Jane crossed the room to our chairs. Her energy from yesterday had vanished, and I sensed that as soon as the Taxol began she would fall fast asleep. She was shredded, but her house gleamed—and she had a garden.

  She let out a huge sigh and snuggled in to the recliner. I reached for my bag and felt the weight of the book in my grasp. I pulled it out.

  “Persuasion?”

  “I grabbed it this morning. Can we read it next?” Jane’s eyes were still closed.

  I ran my hand over the cover. “Why not? I could use a happy ending.”

  “Austen always gives us that.”

  “True, but she gave us more in this one. This one’s the real deal.”

  And for me it was. Without ever losing sight or diminishing Anne’s reality and social limitations, Austen gave her and all of us the soft, steady hope of second chances, happiness, true love, and the promise that life might be better close to thirty than it was at eighteen. It was also an ending that didn’t arrive with a ball and bow, but shot straight to the heart with the accuracy and power of a tipped arrow. And, as I visualized my face cream collection, we got to look better too. After all, Anne was a “very pretty girl” at eighteen. I contend she looked even better when her “bloom” returned.

  I started reading and soon lost myself in the story. We quickly arrived at Uppercross Cottage, where Anne had come to care for her sister, Mary, who was always suffering under the weight of her own complaints. I stumbled over a passage.

  Anne had always thought such a style of intercourse highly imprudent; but she had ceased to endeavor to check it, from believing that, though there were on each side continual subjects of offence, neither family could now do without it.

  Anne had been observing the oftentimes antagonistic relationship between Mary and her in-laws, the Musgroves, but I saw my relationship with Jane and even her relationship with Peter. Could any of us survive without our “continual subjects of offence”? Or did we need them to remain strong? I bit the corner of my lip. I had held those offenses close and fed them over the years, but now I felt the harm they’d done and the emptiness they’d left.

  “That’s a new book, isn’t it?”

  I turned to find Andy sitting behind me.

  “Hey, you’re back—and today?” I checked myself, wondering if that was wrong to say. I held up the book. “It is. We finished Emma a couple days ago.”

  “I took ten days off and here I am.” He gestured to the book. “I like this story better.”

  “You do?”

  “She’s thoughtful. That other girl was annoying. She was like my sister.”

  I chuckled. “Are you saying your sister is self-absorbed?”

  “Yeah.”

  I glanced to Jane who had, in fact, fallen asleep. “Mine is too,” I whispered. “Where’s your mom?”

  He nodded to the end of the room, where she stood chatting with Cecilia. “It’s not working.”

  I refused to ask what he meant; I knew.

  “This may be my last time. And even this is hardly worth it; I’ve been dosed down so much. My team is devising a new plan.” He glanced back to his mom. “She’s freaking out. I think Cecilia’s trying to make her feel better.”

  I offered an “I’m sorry” that fell limp between us.

  He shrugged.

  “Do you want me to keep reading? You’ll meet the hero soon. You’ll like him.”

  Andy’s eyes darted above my head. “Hi, Mr. Griffin.”

  I sprang out of my chair. I hadn’t noticed Mr. Griffin, the grumpy older man with the sweet-looking wife, pushing his IV across the room. I glanced around. There were no available recliners.

  “Do you want my seat? Here.” I pushed my plastic chair toward him and grabbed another from a grouping a few feet away.

  He sat and grinned. “Thought I’d come listen. Ruthie’s gone to get coffee.”

  “Did I wake you? I tried to whisper.”

  “I wasn’t asleep. I just close my eyes to make me look peaceful. Don’t tell Ruthie. I’m practicing.” Mr. Griffin winked at Andy.

  “That’s not funny,” I gasped.

  “Tell her it’s a little bit funny.” He turned to Andy, who nodded, agreeing with him.

  “Fine. I’m going to keep reading.”

  Anne’s hike to Winthrop helped me forget their gallows humor. The tension was exquisite as Captain Wentworth realized that Anne had refused another’s hand in marriage. He needed to show her he still cared, but in a way she would accept—an invitation from his sister for a ride home. He offered a hand into the carriage. They touched and the horses walked on . . . Swoon!

  I stopped reading and fleetingly wondered how I had ever put Austen away. It was like Feast’s olive oil cake—simply perfect.

  “How does she do that?” Jane opened her eyes and stared at me. “She says virtually nothing and I’m having a hot flash.” Her face shot beet red as she realized we weren’t alone. “It could just be the chemo.”

  I laughed. “It’s all Austen. She’s a clever lady.”

  “She never goes for the obvious. Her hero puts you in a carriage because that’s what we want—someone to love us like that, to woo us even if our egos or our fear makes us resist . . .” Jane’s voice drifted away. She wasn’t talking about Austen.

  “I bet you do that, don’t you, Mr. Griffin? Woo your wife?” I tried to redirect Jane.

  “Call me Herb. I try, but Ruthie makes it easy.” His eyes softened as he followed his wife’s walk through the room.

  “I didn’t expect to find you here.” She squeezed his shoulder and pulled over another chair.

  “I wanted to listen to their book.” He nodded at me to continue. So I did . . .

  AS WE DROVE HOME, MY EYE CAUGHT THE ORANGE awning on Madison Street. The empty sandwich shop had been dancing in my imagination. I could see how I’d decorate it, what I would serve, how it would smell. I shook myself. Vacation was almost over; that would have to be someone else’s dream.

  Jane tapped my arm. “Can we stop for a coffee?”

  “Don’t you want to take a nap?”

  “I’d rather stay up and join you all for dinner tonight. It’s become the celebration it used to be. Kate’s better, don’t you think?”

  “I do. She’s smiling more. Do you remember how Mom called us to dinner?”

  “No.”

  “She used to yell, ‘The feast is ready.’ I named Feast after that, after her. I’m beginning to think she meant more than just a meal.”

  “I’m sure she did.” Jane sighed. “And I never noticed.”

  I turned in to the Starbucks, and, while Jane found us a table, I ordered and waited for our drinks. I ducked my head into the next room, thinking a seat by the fireplace would please her, and I found one—next to Nick.

  “Hey, Nick. Can Jane and I come—” I stepped to him, but as he turned his head, I stopped. “You okay?”

  He ran his hands over his face. “I didn’t sleep last night.” He motioned to the spot on the couch. “Join me?”

  “Jane’s here too. I’ll go get her.”

  Nick didn’t reply.

  I grabbed our drinks and motioned to Jane to follow me. I sat on the couch next to Nick, and Jane took the chair to the side, tucked right up to the fireplace. He barely lifted his eyes from the fire as we sat.

  “What’s up? You look like death warmed over,” commented Jane. I smiled. The steroids were still working.

  “I feel like it.” Nick looked between us. “Can I ask your opinions?”
<
br />   We nodded.

  “Rebecca called last night.” He shot me a glance. “She’s here in Seattle and she wants to meet Matt. I don’t know what to do.” He ran his hands down his quads, leaving them resting on his knees.

  Jane and I shared a long, wide-eyed stare. She spoke first. “Out of the blue? Just called up and said, ‘I’m here’?”

  “Basically.” Nick reached over and touched my hand. “I wanted to call you last night, but it was late and I knew what today meant.” He looked back to Jane. “It went well?”

  “Yeah, I feel good. Even this early in the day, it’s different from last time. Now back to you. What’d you tell her? How long is she staying? What does she really want?”

  “Whoa, slow down, Jane. We’re not all firing that fast.” I squeezed Nick’s hand.

  “I told her I’d think about it, but I don’t think I have a choice.”

  “Of course you do.” I leaned forward.

  “Not really. Last time she came she simply called, and when I explained I was losing my job, Matt was sick, everything was in chaos, she immediately withdrew. She said she was busy, staying with friends, and would touch base the next time she came to town. End of story. But this time is different; she’s here to meet him. She pushed hard, and she could too; she could meet him on the street or show up at my door. She says she wants to be in his life and that I can’t deny that. And she’s right. Right? She’s his mom. If I somehow keep her away and Matt finds out, how could he ever forgive me?”

  “He might not.”

  “Jane!” I called out, then looked around and lowered my voice. “That’s hardly helpful.”

  “But it’s the truth. She’s Matt’s mom and that’s powerful. And if she’s determined, really determined, Nick can’t stop her. Not really. You’re not a mom, Lizzy.”

  “I know, but—”

  “She’s right.” Nick cut me off.

  “What?” I let go of his hand.

  “She’s right. Rebecca’s not going away. I could hear it in her voice. I’ve got to manage this as best I can, but it’s happening.” His voice came out flat and defeated.

  I accepted it too. “Anything we can do to help?”

  “I wish.” He took a deep breath. “I need to call Rebecca, then head to the school to pick up Matt.” He stood and pulled his phone out of his back pocket.

  “We’ll go.” I stood and motioned to Jane. She stood silently and walked past me. I stood in front of Nick but could tell he’d already gone, and I instantly missed him. “Call me, okay?”

  He glanced up from his phone. “Huh? Yes, of course . . .” His eyes focused. “Sorry about all this. Of course I’ll call. Later tonight?”

  “Whenever is fine.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, then followed Jane out the door.

  Chapter 33

  AS WE DROVE HOME, JANE TURNED TO ME. “WHOA. That’s a mess. Hope he doesn’t lose focus at work.”

  “That’s what you’re thinking about? Your clients? Did you see his eyes? And what about sweet Matt? What’s going to happen?”

  “They’ll be fine. Maybe Rebecca’s really changed and is back for good, I don’t know. It might be good for Matt.”

  I was good for Matt shot across my mind. I pulled the car in to Jane’s driveway and sat for a moment, stunned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I really liked him,” I whispered, mostly to myself.

  Jane snorted. “Don’t be dramatic. You’re here for a moment. You’ll head back to New York and never think about him again. This is about Nick and his son and what’s best for them. Did you seriously just criticize me about worrying for my clients, and you’re upset about a spring fling?”

  I didn’t think. I attacked. “I will think about him again because I actually liked him. A lot. I’m not wired like you. ‘Out of sight, out of mind’ doesn’t work with such ruthless efficiency in my life.” I pulled myself out of the car, balancing my coffee and my bag in one hand.

  Jane was silent for a few steps before I heard a soft, chilling, “It all comes back to Mom, doesn’t it?”

  “It all comes back to you.”

  “Don’t you think I’ve paid enough?”

  I turned to face her. “Enough? What have you ever paid? I paid, Dad paid, and Mom certainly did. You didn’t come visit your dying mother, Jane, or your family who was suffering. So, yes, it will always come down to that.” I’d never said the words aloud, and now they came out—clear, clipped, and biting.

  “Peter and I were living in Shanghai then. We were a world away, and Dad would call and say, ‘She’s stronger today,’ ‘Her color is good,’ or ‘I think we’ll come visit you when all this is over.’ I wanted to believe him, so I did. You can’t blame me for that.”

  “Yes, I can. You know Dad. You can read him better than that. You two are so alike. He ran away in the same house and you . . . you never came back. Yet you’ve ridden me for a decade about not coming home, not showing Dad enough respect. Well, you only pay it now because it’s easy. You weren’t there for the hard stuff. I was. I was the only one. And when you’re now the one going through it, who’s here again—me. And you belittle me by saying my feelings don’t matter. How dare you.”

  We dropped our bags in the front hall and faced each other.

  Jane’s face fell. “I was scared, okay? I couldn’t help, and I felt guilty, guilty for not being close, not like you were. I was deficient. I should’ve done more, felt more . . . And then it was too late and the shame overwhelmed me. I let her down. And it was too late.” Tears ran down Jane’s cheeks.

  “You didn’t even stay for the reception.”

  “I couldn’t stay . . . All those people. It’s such a small town. They all knew I hadn’t come home.” Jane’s eyes filled with tears, but none fell.

  “It wasn’t about you, Jane. When can it stop being about you?” I looked toward the stairs. “I’m done here. It’s past time.” I trudged up the stairs, calling halfway up, “If you need me, I’m packing. I’ll get a room near the airport tonight.” I reached the doorway of the guest room and realized I couldn’t pack with one hand, and suddenly I felt too tired to try.

  Someone tapped on the doorframe behind me. “Are you okay?” Peter asked.

  I swiped at my eyes. “You heard all that?”

  “The kids and I were in the kitchen.”

  I flopped on the bed. “I’m so sorry. They don’t need that right now. None of you do. I’m messing all this up.”

  “You’re not.” He sat next to me. “You’ve been a godsend, and we had all this going on before you came.”

  “Will you get through it?”

  “Of course. Jane will heal.” He chuckled. “I’ve done enough research to know that. Her doctors have told her, too, but she can’t hear it. I think she’s replaying your mom’s illness and her guilt like an old movie.”

  “Maybe we both are.” I held my head in my hands.

  “Tell you what . . . Spring break started today. I was going to take the family to the Great Wolf Lodge next week; it’s a goofy water amusement park about an hour away. But Jane wants to leave today. She told me to give the kids a half hour to pack and we’re out of here.”

  “She can’t do that. She could go toxic. She’s not strong enough.”

  “Your sister? She’s as tough as they come. Besides, if something happens, we’re less than an hour away. She knows what it feels like now.”

  “But why?”

  “I think she’s doing it for you and . . . I think she wants to fight. There was a light in her eyes just now. I don’t care what put it there, I’m just glad it’s back.”

  “Excellent. That’s what I’m good for, firing up Jane.”

  “I think she doesn’t want you to leave, not like this. You won’t come back if you do.” Peter leaned forward onto his knees. “We all know that.” He tapped my hand. “Besides, you still need to get your stitches out.”

  “It’s time. We all know that too. If I’
m going to salvage my career, I’d better get to it.”

  “Paul gave you the time, Lizzy. Please don’t leave. Jane isn’t the only one who’s afraid that you’ll never come back. I can’t have that.”

  “Why not?” I snorted.

  His eyebrows sank as he met my gaze. “You’re my family too.”

  I leaned my head against his shoulder and rested. “I like that, Peter. I really do.”

  He patted my leg. “Give us a half hour. If you want to be useful, help Kate and Danny pack. They’re going to freak out in about five minutes and probably forget their swimsuits.”

  Peter was right. I heard Kate and Danny scream somewhere in the house, and then they charged the stairs like elephants to their rooms.

  “Dad says we have to be ready in twenty minutes. What do I pack? What do I pack?”

  “Whoa. I’ll help. It’s a water park. Start with a swimsuit.”

  “Right.” Kate pulled her dresser open. “This is so fun. We never do stuff like this.” She stopped and stared at me. “You’re coming, aren’t you?”

  “Can you imagine this at a water park?” I held up my hand.

  “Will you be here when we get back?”

  For a fleeting second I thought about escaping. No good-byes, no strings. They wouldn’t even know for a couple days. “I will.”

  I passed between the kids’ rooms and got them packed in less than fifteen minutes. Peter was true to his word, and within the half hour the family headed to the car.

  As they walked out the door, Jane found me picking up coats in the back hall. Her face was closed and her eyes still held tight anger, yet she asked, “Will you be okay?”

  I nodded.

  And they left . . .

  I SPENT MY NEXT DAY WANDERING SEATTLE, NUMB AND alone. I didn’t call Nick. I wanted him to call me. He didn’t, so as a form of self-torture I walked by many of the places I’d visited with either him or Jane. I saw all the flowers at Pike Place Market, the ferryboats down at the water, the carousel ride near the aquarium, and the cheese shop at Melrose Market—and Sitka & Spruce. And all I could think was Kate would love this; we should bring Matt here; Danny would laugh at that; that color would look great on Jane.