Seven Days Destinations

by Ruth Hay

  Abigail was struggling between truth and a convenient lie. If she said yes, her problem with Kevin was solved. If she said no, she was stuck with the consequences for an unknown amount of time thereby saying goodbye to her chances with the handsome Kevin.

  She decided on a compromise. That way no one could place the blame on her shoulders.

  Before she could compose her response, however, her grandfather jumped in with more information.

  “Abigail, it may help you if I add I have already spoken to your Aunt Megan. She is anxious to resume living with her daughter but needs my approval. I need your confirmation of Portia’s attitude before I can agree to this. Do you understand my dilemma?”

  “Of course I do. I am trying to be fair to everyone involved in this situation. I suppose I am trained to do that. I was about to say I feel reluctant to judge my aunt’s ability to adjust to this new version of Portia but now you have told me you have spoken to her, I can safely state that Portia is a far different person than the one who returned from Mexico with us. I know also from what Devon tells me about her work in the Tech Hub, that she is coping well there.

  I guess my considered opinion is that she is ready for this next step.”

  “I am glad you agree, Abigail. Your grandmother and I will see Megan together at the first opportunity and make the final choice.

  And, by the way, if you were worried you might lose the apartment downtown if Portia moves to her mother’s place, I can assure you the rent will be paid for the next two calendar years while you re-establish your journalism career.”

  He heard the sharp intake of breath on the line and added, “It is the least we can do to show our appreciation to you.”

  * * *

  Abigail Beck returned to her office but not before doing a glad dance in the hallway when no one was watching. Next she glanced over the phone list and saw a second call from her brother. She suddenly felt afraid there might be some bad news about Portia which could scupper the entire plan to get her back to her mother again.

  “Dev. What gives? Tell me quick.”

  “Abi, you know I wouldn’t interfere in your life but today Portia told me something worrying and I need to warn you she went to the restaurant at lunchtime and spoke to Mom. Mom’s on the warpath. Be warned.”

  “What did Portia tell you?”

  “She was sounding a bit hysterical about some Kevin guy. She may have got it all wrong but she does not like him. Mom called me to confirm what she had said, so you must be next on the list.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up, bro.”

  “Welcome, sis.” Devon decided not to say anything about his decision to investigate this Kevin character.

  Abigail ignored the remainder of the calls while she figured out how to deal with this situation.

  Should she be proactive and talk to her mother first?

  Was it worthwhile to ask Portia why she disliked Kevin, a man she had seen only briefly several times over the last month?

  Was there any benefit to be gained by introducing Kevin to her mother? She discarded this option fast. She had no idea if Kevin was a long-term bet and the family intro thing was likely to drive him away rapidly.

  No, the best idea was to head off her mother before she had time to build up a negative picture in her mind. What day was it? Thursday. The day Jillian started early at the market and tried to leave the restaurant a bit earlier in the evening.

  Abi grabbed her phone and made a call to her father directly. She was taking a chance. He would not answer if he was working in the kitchens but there was a slim chance he could be in the storerooms or in his office.

  “Abi? This better be important.”

  “Oh, Dad, I just want to spirit Mom away a bit early this evening for a cozy mother daughter chat. Do you think you could tell her I’ll pick her up at eight?”

  “That’s a nice idea. She’ll be surprised. Consider it done.”

  Abi came off the subway and walked along Dundas to where she could see the new sign for Beckoning Cuisine.

  Classy, Devon. Very classy. Nice work.

  She took a moment to check out her reflection in a store window. When going on the defensive it is always better to be prepared and feeling confident. She was wearing a suit her mother approved of since it was a Christmas gift from her parents. She had even polished up her shoes in the office washroom and wiped off some of her more obvious make-up. She intended to present a placatory, mature façade to her mother although she knew she could not be pushed too far on the subject of male friends. Really, she was too old to require boyfriend vetting by her mother.

  A few calm breaths and she was wearing her best smile as she entered the restaurant.

  Chris recognized her at once and escorted her to a seat at the bar.

  “Mrs. Beck will be right out. She told me to watch for you. I don’t suppose I can persuade you to join us this evening? We have a spectacular new Thai dish on the menu.”

  “No thanks, Chris. Not tonight.”

  Abi’s idea was to take her mother to the nearest Tim Horton’s for coffee and treats. She knew it was the kind of place her father would never enter. It would be their secret indulgence and, hopefully, sweeten her mother’s attitude somewhat. If she could get Jillian Beck on her side, the game was won and Kevin could move into the apartment in a matter of days, a week at the latest. The thought gave her a shiver down her spine. Kevin was hot stuff. She restored her smile as she saw her mother approaching.

  “Well, this is very nice, Abi. We haven’t had a chat for a month of Sundays, as your grandfather used to say. Where are we going?”

  “Not far from here. You’ll be surprised.”

  They found a quiet table at a booth near the windows and collected their muffins, donuts and coffee selections. The first few minutes were taken up with comparisons of which treat was the more decadent, then Jillian licked off the last bit of chocolate icing from her Boston cream and said, “To what do I owe this unexpected outing?”

  Here we go.

  “I won’t pretend you haven’t heard about my request to move Portia back to her mother’s place. I want to get your take on this, Mom. I may need an ally.”

  “I don’t think anyone could blame you for wanting some privacy, Abi. You have been immensely patient and helpful to Portia and perhaps the time is right for her to go back home again. I won’t argue about that. What concerns me is the real reason for your request.”

  “What do you mean?”

  This was not going the way Abi had expected. She was on the defensive already and the game had hardly started.

  “You know what I mean. It’s Kevin.”

  “What? You’ve never even met the guy. How can you object to someone you know nothing about?

  I don’t even know all that much about him myself.”

  “Now, that is precisely the problem.”

  “I do not see it as a problem that concerns anyone but me. I’m not a child anymore.”

  Jillian dipped her head to summon energy and determination to her aid and then looked straight into her daughter’s angry eyes.

  “I know that, Abigail Beck, but as your mother I feel an obligation to warn you about this.”

  “About what? What on earth are you talking about?”

  Jillian could hear Abi’s voice getting louder and louder. She needed to calm the situation or whatever she said next would cause her daughter to flee. She looked around. There was no other customer within hearing at this hour.

  “I want to tell you something personal that I have never told to anyone in the family. Your father doesn’t even know the truth about it and I don’t want him to know.”

  Jillian’s tone of voice and her demeanour warned Abi to quiet down and listen. This was unprecedented in her experience. Her mother was remarkably reticent about her past. Whatever she was about to hear, it would distract her mother from criticisms about Kevin for a while at least.

  She settled into a more comfortable pose and presente
d every evidence of close attention to her mother’s words.

  “You are most like me, Abigail. You are my first child and you inherited traits I would rather had passed you by. You see, I spent my teens trying to fill a hole inside me. I won’t go into the story of my parents and what caused the hole. What matters is how I responded in what was then my unconscious reaction.

  I know now I was desperately needy. I clung on to the first male who came my way determined to form a lifelong attachment and never to feel alone again. But I was a teenager who knew nothing about men.

  I did not realize emotions are different in men and women. Men don’t mind being needed if it makes them feel strong and capable but if a woman’s neediness progresses to the point where she expects constant reassurances and close contact, a man, even a young man, will retreat. Of course, this made me all the more desperate for his approval and I confess I acted like a beggar, pleading for scraps of attention, when I should have reclaimed what was left of my dignity and marched off with my head high.”

  Her mother stopped to take a sip of coffee but Abigail was stunned at these revelations and could hardly wait to hear more. She did not dare to interrupt.

  “So, the sad story progressed far longer than it should and it left its mark on me. You know my marriage to your father has not been without its problems?”

  Abi nodded assent.

  “Well, a lot of that was my fault. I carried the expectations of my early failures into my marriage and projected them onto your father. It doesn’t take long to sour even the sweetest romance. Relationships are a minefield, Abi, and if you venture onto that minefield you have to be ever vigilant. Open and honest communication is the key, but that is not easily maintained. So many things get in the way and soon the doubts creep in.”

  “But everything is good now, isn’t it?” Abi knew her voice was that of a child begging for reassurance. A part of her still yearned for the feeling that her world was safe and secure as long as her parents were together and in charge.

  “Yes, we have overcome a lot of problems and working together, as we now do, has given both of us a different perspective.”

  She stopped and cleared her throat.

  “Do you understand why I am telling you this, Abi?”

  Now the tables were turned and Abi had to be as honest as her mother had been. It was not possible to prevaricate in the face of such soul-baring truth but it required revealing a level of self-knowledge that was not comfortable.

  “Well, you said I have some of the same traits as you but I am not sure I see the comparison.”

  Her mother sighed. This was what she had feared most.

  “At the risk of alienating you completely, I will point out some things I have observed. I would prefer you to explore this on your own but I’m afraid there is not enough time to delay before you make a huge mistake. I feel responsible for not taking action before, so I can’t afford to wait.”

  Oh, here we are, back at Kevin again. This is ridiculous.

  “I see you prickling up already, Abigail Beck, but hear me out. Please.”

  She reads my mind! I had better be careful.

  “It isn’t necessary to go too far back to find examples for you. Remember your boss, Curtis Soames, at the newspaper? You were willing to break up his marriage and throw yourself at his feet for the chance of promotion. Then you lost everything by reacting like a selfish child and storming out when he would not give you enough attention. Next, you betrayed your better instincts and risked someone’s reputation on the promise of fame and fortune. That one was about a photograph you were given through the generosity of Zoe Philips who had helped our family through a crisis.

  Now you are throwing yourself away on a man you just met who has a chequered past, to put it mildly.

  Don’t ask how I know this! It isn’t the point. Abigail look at me, do you recognize this behaviour of yours as immature, needy and self-destructive? When are you going to grow up and make mature choices based on the genuine feelings I know are in the core of you. Don’t sell yourself short, my girl. Reach for the stars in your personal life as well as in your professional one.”

  It was a heart-felt plea. That much was clear. Abi found herself red in the face from shame at hearing her failures paraded so openly. She longed to escape by running away but that behaviour would only confirm her mother’s low opinion. Her head was pounding with the need to refute everything she had just heard, to defend herself vehemently; but a quiet voice within was advising her to stop.

  This was one of those seminal moments in life. It could not be ignored. A choice was before her.

  Run away and ruin any chance of a decent relationship with her mother.

  Stay, and accept her mistakes and decide to do better in the future.

  All this passed across her mind in a flash. With it came the side issue of whether her mother had subjected Louise to this inspection when she moved in with Jason. Had someone checked up on Jason before he was approved? Why was Louise’s ability to select a partner considered to be so much better than her older sister’s?

  As the tense moments passed by, Jillian felt her motherly heart quake in her chest. She was risking so much. Part of her heart would disintegrate if Abi rejected her now. She could do or say no more. The die was cast.

  Abigail Beck felt as if she had lived a lifetime in these few moments of decision. She felt weak in every muscle and her hands were shaking. She needed to go away and absorb what she had heard.

  First, though, she must give some kind of response to her mother.

  Her voice cracking and with tears in her eyes, she said the only thing she could think of.

  “Thank you, Mom, for caring so much about me.”

  Chapter Five

  Friday.

  Megan Anderson looked in the mirror and saw immediately the cost of the many months since the week in Mexico that had turned everything in her life upside down.

  Her face was thinner and the stress showed in shadows under her eyes. There were hollows at her temples and the skin around her mouth had drawn in. Her hair, on which she had always prided herself for being so much smoother and tidier than her sister-in-law, Jillian’s, was now a dull brown and there were split ends showing.

  She walked away from the mirror in disgust but what she saw in the bedroom was no comfort for her.

  The bed clothes had not been pulled up when she left home earlier in the day for work at her office.

  Of course, there was no one to complain about the state of her bed or, indeed, the state of her appearance. Maurice had been gone for so long that the only conclusion she could make was that their marriage was over. His stint at the rehab clinic recommended by Gamblers Anonymous, had ended when he signed himself out of the facility and promptly disappeared without a word to anyone.

  Megan had covered for him as long as she could by inventing excuses for his absence, such as a trip to Europe for research on his new book, but she could not fool herself any longer. She suspected her father already knew the situation. He had funded the rehab attempt and she was sure he had kept in touch with his son-in-law’s progress, or lack thereof. She would have to confess to her father that she had been abandoned with some of the debts Maurice had accrued during the worst of his gambling addiction still weighing on her mind. She could have sold their fine home in the west end of Toronto but that would have left her with the inescapable fact of her failure; a failure that would be obvious to her whole family and to her work colleagues.

  The most unsettling thing about this new lonely reality was the knowledge that her only child, Portia, had chosen not to return to live with her. Thinking back to life before Maurice left, she was amazed that she noticed a difference at all. The truth was that she had often chosen to work late, arriving home in the dark and falling into bed beside a sleeping husband with never a thought to their daughter and how her life was going. Years of placing her ambitions at the law firm ahead of everything and everyone had resulted in the kind of negl
ect that led to two secret lives in her own home of which she was entirely ignorant. She felt ashamed and guilty.

  Her father had tried to steer all three Andersons into a better path but his advice had not been followed by Maurice. Portia’s life had been rescued and Megan had done as her father requested. She cut back on her work hours and spent many nights thinking back over her mistakes and planning for a better future.

  This, however, was not the future she had envisaged. Portia preferred to live in a tiny apartment with her cousin Abigail rather than enjoying the spacious bedroom that had been her own since childhood.

  Her mother’s pleas had gone unnoticed.

  Aylward Beck’s advice had been to wait with patience until Portia was ready to re-establish a connection with her mother. Megan knew he was right. She knew she had contributed to Portia’s breakdown by not being available to the girl when she was in trouble. It was a hard pill to swallow knowing how her only daughter had suffered in silence with no help or interest from her mother. She could not blame Portia, but if she was not given a chance to make amends by demonstrating how she had changed for the better, their situation would remain the same.

  With her husband gone and her work commitments reduced, Megan had to admit she felt lonely for the first time in her life. The usual expensive distractions such as clothes and jewellery were unavailable to her because of Maurice’s debts and she was forced to rattle around in the big house confronting her errors at every turn.

  The meeting at her parents’ condo now assumed even greater importance. She had subjected herself to their brand of quiet disapproval before and knew what she could expect. Not that either of them was in any way cruel. They could have descended on her in parental disappointment, but that was not the way of Marian and Aylward Beck.

  Rather, they would treat their only daughter as a recovering patient handling her with delicacy as they analysed her latest decisions and actions. She imagined the topic of conversation was Maurice’s long absence and what she was going to do about it. She tried to prepare a defence but the words would not come to her. If this were a courtroom, she could summon up a reasonable excuse but she doubted her father would be convinced. There was nothing else for it. She had to go and take her punishment then return home alone. Again.