Once More with Feeling

by Cynthia Baxter

  Instantly the level of tension jumped from medium to high. She braced herself for the worst.

  Roger took a deep breath, keeping his eyes on the dry clump of grass beneath his feet. “Laura, letting you go was the biggest mistake of my life.”

  She simply stared.

  “It’s only now, when I’m trying to start all over again, that I’m starting to appreciate you. I’ve been having a really tough time. And taking on a whole new family, shouldering the responsibility of owning a house all by myself, is only part of it. I’m also wrestling with all kinds of internal demons.” He paused. “I’m beginning to face the fact that maybe you were right about some of the things you complained about when we were married.

  “Melanie’s saying the same things you used to say.” Roger shook his head slowly. “We had a big fight last night. It was about me working. At first I was so angry I couldn’t see straight. But slowly, through the barriers I’d put up, I heard her saying the exact words I’d heard you saying for years.”

  Taking a deep breath, he added, “I can’t simply blame it all on you anymore.”

  Roger’s voice had gotten lower and more controlled. “You know, Laura, when you told me you wanted out a year and a half ago, I should’ve insisted we give it more time. I was wrong not to try to get my act together. I should’ve worked on our relationship instead of simply letting it die.

  “I know it’s too late now—for you and me, I mean. But I realize I have to step back and take a good, hard look at myself and the part I played in the failure of our marriage. Melanie and I are determined to stick together, to try to work it out. As painful as it is, I’m going to have to start making some changes.”

  He stood up, his head bowed. “That’s all I wanted to say. This wasn’t easy for me, but I felt you deserved that much.”

  Laura simply nodded. Her throat was so constricted she couldn’t speak. It hardly mattered, since she wouldn’t have known how to respond.

  She sat very still as he walked back to his car. Watching him leave, she suddenly had a sense of ties breaking, of being released ... of letting go. He’d opened the car door and was about to climb in when she stood up.

  “Roger?” she called after him.

  He stopped and turned. “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  After he’d left, she sat down in one of the wrought-iron chairs. For a long time she stayed very still, her hands folded on the table in front of her. It wasn’t Roger she was thinking about; it was Gil. Gil—and his longing to get revenge, hoping it would bring about the closure he so badly needed.

  She realized that she’d exacted her revenge. And it hadn’t come from smashing pottery or calling in the IRS or playing manipulative games. Instead, it came from having finally been acknowledged.

  * * * *

  “So who’s having good sex?” Phyllis had an innocent look on her face as she glanced around the circle at the Wednesday-night support group. “Decent sex? Half-decent sex? Any sex at all?”

  Her opener for the evening elicited the usual round of laughter—some of it embarrassed, some relieved. Laura, wedged between Ken and Elaine, settled back in her chair. All day she’d been looking forward to coming to the support group. Tonight she had something to share— something important.

  Over and over in her mind she’d replayed the scene with Roger. She’d gotten her revenge—and her sense of closure. What surprised her most was that she wasn’t gloating. Instead, she felt cloaked in serenity.

  Beside her, Elaine waved her hand in the air.

  “Elaine,” demanded Phyllis, “are you one of the lucky ones or are you drying your nails?”

  “I have something I want to tell the group.”

  “It doesn’t look as if any of us could stop you.”

  Elaine’s round face was flushed. “I met a man.”

  Everyone in the room gasped. The reaction couldn’t have been more dramatic if she’d announced she was placing them all under arrest.

  Even Phyllis, whose job was to act unimpressed, was unable to contain herself. “No!” she cried, clutching her hands to her heart.

  “Who’s the sucker?” demanded Jake.

  “Give us his phone number,” Ken joked. “We want to warn him.”

  “Come on, now,” Phyllis insisted. “Let’s give Elaine a chance. Besides,” she added, leaning forward, “I’m sure we’re all anxious to hear the details.”

  “Well,” Elaine began, her eyes glowing, “I met him at the auto-parts store where I work. He’s a salesman who comes in every few weeks. He’s been around for months now, but it was only last week that he finally got up the nerve to ask me out. At least that’s what he admitted Saturday night.” She sighed. “His name’s Hal.”

  “Poor Hal,” breathed Ken.

  “Anyway,” Elaine went on, pointedly ignoring him, “we went out to dinner Saturday night. It was fantastic. Hal and I clicked like you wouldn’t believe. We like the same movies, the same kind of food ... we’ve even gone on vacation to the same places.” With a little shrug she added, “We’re seeing each other again next weekend.”

  “Going out to dinner again?” asked Phyllis.

  “No. Cancun.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We’re going to Cancun for five days. We decided it’s a good way to get to know each other. Besides, I figure there’s nothing wrong with getting a head start on my tan.”

  “I think there’s a lesson for us all to learn here,” said Phyllis. “Even Elaine has found someone new.”

  “ ‘Even’?” Elaine repeated, indignant.

  “Well, you gotta admit you been kind of angry since your divorce,” said Jake.

  “Well, maybe a little.” Elaine was pensive for a moment. Then her face lit up. “But just because I’m dating doesn’t mean I don’t still hate my ex-husband.”

  As the group went on to give Elaine advice on how to conduct her newfound social life, Laura let her mind wander. So Elaine—angry, disillusioned, man-hating Elaine— had met someone new. It was almost inevitable, she mused, that no matter how bad the first marriage, no matter how deep the wounds, eventually the heart healed. In the end, it almost always went back for more.

  And where does that leave me? Laura wondered.

  Ever since the day before, when Roger had talked to her, really talked to her, for what was perhaps the very first time, she’d basked in the sense of release. Her situation was suddenly different. She was different. She’d been freed from her past. What she had to decide now was how to proceed with her future.

  Tuning back in to the group, she was surprised to hear Ken agonizing over some event that had occurred between him and his wife years before. Somehow they had moved back into the past again. For them, she realized, the disillusionment of their marriages was still very much alive. For the first time since she’d started coining to the group, hearing about the others’ past disappointments made Laura impatient.

  At that moment she understood she wouldn’t be back. Her roller-coaster ride wasn’t quite over, but the end was finally in sight. From where she sat she could see that the bends and twists that remained were much less frightening than those she’d endured.

  Something had become clear to her suddenly. And that was that she wanted a man in her life. She missed Cam desperately. Her fears were no longer forbidding enough to keep her from jumping back in feet first, knowing she’d initially be shocked by the coldness of the water but still confident about her ability to stay afloat.

  Her only worry now was whether it was too late.

  * * * *

  Laura was nervous as she climbed out of her car late Saturday morning. Driving to Cam’s house, she’d battled a host of butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. She felt the same way she’d felt the first time she’d made this trip, when she’d been worried about how his children would respond to her. This time her concern was how Cam would react.

  The air was still bursting with that dangerous spring freshness that made peop
le do impetuous things. Still, her actions were anything but rash. Ever since Wednesday night she’d been ruminating about making a commitment to another man, to another relationship ... to Cam. She knew that this time she had to be sure. It wouldn’t be fair to call him back, only to get cold feet once things started heating up again.

  She’d decided she was sure.

  As she was crossing the lawn, heading toward the front door, she heard voices coming from behind the house. In the backyard, Cam was celebrating the arrival of spring with his children.

  She hadn’t intended to sneak up on him, but standing outside the fence, she realized he hadn’t noticed her. So she hung back, watching.

  He stood at the barbecue, a striped dish towel tucked into the waistband of his jeans to create a makeshift apron. A pair of orange-and-white gingham oven mitts on his hands, he tended the row of skewers laid out on the metal grating.

  Behind him, a redwood picnic table was set for lunch. Next to each of four mismatched plates were plastic cups: one from Pizza Hut, one from Six Flags, one printed with the NFL logo, one picturing the Little Mermaid. Silverware was lined up at each place setting, the forks, knives, and spoons clumped together in creative combinations. The mismatched dinnerware, as well as the bouquet of weeds stuck in a Smucker’s peanut butter jar, made Laura smile. Emily’s handiwork, she guessed.

  Zach and Simon were tossing around a football, whooping and hollering as if they’d both been gripped by spring fever. Emily was on the swing set, performing a gymnastics routine that involved more twirling round and round a horizontal bar than any Olympic committee was ever likely to sanction.

  “Watch me, Daddy!” she cried, going for rotation number six. “Watch me!”

  Cam glanced over his shoulder. “Way to go, Em. You’re doing great!”

  “Hey, Dad! Play catch with us!” called Simon.

  “You got it. Just give me a few minutes. It’s almost time to turn these....” Cam bent over the barbecue, carefully realigning his shish kebobs.

  It was a touching domestic scene: the loving father relaxing with his three children, all of them sincerely enjoying each other’s company. They seemed so comfortable with each other, so comfortable in their lives.

  Laura was struck by how badly she wanted to be part of it. She wanted it for Evan as well. Her son deserved more than just a mother who thought the world of him. He deserved a family.

  And then she realized exactly why this scene felt so familiar. Cam horsing around with his children, their easiness with each other ... For a moment she was ten years old again, walking home through the dusk, longingly looking through the windows of other people’s houses.

  What was missing from this particular scene was the woman of the family. Laura ached to play that role—in this setting with these people.

  Her heart pounding, she stepped forward.

  “Cam?” she called softly.

  He glanced up, shock registering on his face for just a moment. “Hello, Laura.”

  She laughed, suddenly self-conscious. “I guess you’re surprised to see me.”

  “Surprised ... and pleased.” He gestured toward the barbecue. “Staying for lunch? I’m told I make a pretty mean shish kebob—”

  “Look!” cried Emily, ceasing her whipping around the metal bars of the swing set. “Laura’s here! Watch me, Laura!”

  “Where’s Evan?” Zach asked, the football poised over his shoulder.

  “He’s with his dad this weekend.”

  ‘Too bad.” He looked sincerely disappointed. “Hey, want to play catch?”

  “No way. First she’s got to see what I can do,” Emily insisted. “Laura, watch how fast I can flip over!”

  “Give Laura and me a few minutes to talk,” Cam told them. Turning back to her, he said, “I presume you came here to talk.”

  Laura nodded.

  “Let me take these off.” He pulled off the oven mitts. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I could ever have a serious conversation dressed like Betty Crocker.”

  “I don’t remember Betty having such a full beard,” Laura countered.

  Cam laughed. “There. I guess we’ve successfully managed to break the ice.” He’d led her over to the side of the house, out of earshot of the children. “Should I be happy to see you, or would I just be setting myself up?”

  “It depends on how you’re feeling about me these days.” Laura kicked at a small clump of dry brown grass, keeping her eyes fixed on the new spurt of green pushing its way up beside it.

  “I don’t know how I dare feel. If I admit to myself that I still care, I could end up getting my heart broken again.” He stared off into the distance. “And it’s not even close to being mended from me last time around.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Cam. I—”

  “What happened before doesn’t matter, Laura.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her gently so that she faced him. “It’s what’s going to happen from here on in that counts.”

  “What do you want to happen?”

  “I want you back,” he said simply. “That hasn’t changed.”

  “I want to come back.”

  “You’re sure this time?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “No more running away?”

  She shook her head. “I’m yours. That is, if you want me.”

  “I want you,” said Cam, taking her in his arms.

  Laura leaned forward, resting her head against his chest. I’m home, she thought. I’ve finally come home.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “I can already see the write-up in tomorrow’s paper,” Laura told Julie, her voice low. “ ‘The bride wore white, the same shade as her hair—and the effect was nothing short of blinding. Several guests complaining of severe eye pain were rushed to North Shore Hospital—”

  “Oh, Laura,” Julie said breathlessly, “Claire looks lovely. Every bride is beautiful.”

  Laura was about to mutter some comment along the lines of bah, humbug when she noticed that her friend’s eyes were shiny with tears. Instead, she fussed with the folds of her lavender satin skirt. The dress, cinched at the waist with a tight cummerbund, had a row of froufrou along the hem. Her dust ruffle, she’d nicknamed it. Fortunately, it covered the pair of black patent-leather Little Bo-Peep shoes that laced up her ankles.

  The dress, the shoes, the lavender wide-brimmed hat, the parasol ... every element had been carefully chosen for the June extravaganza. Even the location fit right in with Claire’s image of a dream wedding. The Crystal Inn catered to sweet sixteens, fiftieth anniversaries—and the weddings of grown women anxious to combine Mardi Gras, Halloween, and the dress-up corner of the kindergarten classroom. Frowning, Laura glanced at her reflection in the line of floor-to-ceiling minors in a dressing room that seriously rivaled the palace of Versailles.

  “I feel like Scarlett O’Hara’s body double,” she muttered. She lugged at the low-cut neckline that revealed considerably more than she felt comfortable showing to anyone who hadn’t at least bought her dinner.

  “I think Claire’s choice of bridesmaids’ dresses is lovely,” Julie insisted, twirling before the minor.

  Laura had to admit that Julie actually looked good in her mint green version of the outfit. She resembled the tiny doll on an old-fashioned music box, come to life. Her long red hair was twisted into dramatic frankfurter curls, tied to one side with a perky green ribbon. The other bridesmaids also looked the part: Claire’s seventeen-year-old cousin in tangerine, her nineteen-year-old cousin in lemon yellow, even her plump sister-in-law-to-be in baby pink.

  Laura was wondering if she was being a trifle unfair to Claire, the institution of marriage, and parasol manufacturers when the bride clapped her hands for attention.

  “Okay, everybody,” she announced crisply, hiking up her long skirt so she could pace around the room in her white satin four-inch heels. Her dress was the most elaborate of them all, lest anyone be unclear about whose day this was. Made
entirely of lace, dotted with roses and ribbons and seed pearls, it swished and swirled with every movement Claire made. “We’ve got a job to do here. I want everyone to stand tall. Look alert. Chin up, shoulders back ... and walk, don’t shuffle.”

  “ ‘The bride wore combat boots,’ ” Laura mumbled.

  She was prepared to remain encased in her armor of cynicism during the ceremony, the reception, and even the rehashing of highlights on the telephone with Julie. So she was surprised to find that as the opening bars of Wagner’s classic wedding march filtered into the dressing room, her heart launched into a gymnastics routine. As for the tears welling up in her eyes ...

  All right, so I’m not immune, she admitted, taking her place in the parade that began with a flower girl scattering rose petals and ended with the baby pink sister-in-law. There’s something about a wedding—any wedding—that brings out everybody’s romantic side.

  The ceremony contained every cliché in the book. But the look on Claire’s face, and Gil’s as well, elicited a brand-new wave of mistiness in Laura.

  “You look beautiful,” Cam told her later, at the reception. Coming up behind her with two glasses of champagne in hand, he leaned forward to plant a kiss on her cheek.

  “What I look is lavender,” she insisted, accepting the glass. “Very, very lavender.”

  “You could have done worse,” Cam insisted. “Have you seen Claire’s new sister-in-law?”

  “All that pink should only be worn by someone who still travels in a stroller.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t suppose there’s any other color you’d prefer to be wearing today.”

  “Just about any color in the rainbow.”

  “I was thinking about white.”

  “A great color for picket fences.”

  “You know what I mean. And I bet you’d look great in white.” When Laura remained silent, Cam said, “Well, Laura, I know you won’t give me a yes. How about a maybe?”

  She glanced toward the doorway of the reception hall. Gil and Claire had just come in. They stood together for a moment, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, their hands clasped together so tightly they looked as if they had no intention of ever letting go.