Driscoll's Daughter

by Freda, Paula

"Mom, can we take a walk along the bay in Battery Park. I need to talk to you about something that's bothering me."

  "Of course, dearest. That's why I came. I sensed it last night. You're not happy. The brisk fresh air will do us both good. In my younger years, during the time I lived in Manhattan, I often visited Battery Park. It was my favorite spot to relax, take a round trip ferry ride to Staten Island, just for the pleasure of standing by the deck rail, letting the wind and the water spray and calm rattled nerves."

  "What could have rattled your nerves, Mom. You always had everything you wanted."

  "I didn't have your father. I didn't think he'd ever accept me."

  "It's hard to believe that. He loves you more than life itself."

  Leatrice stood and pushed her chair back. "Come on, we didn't come here to talk about me."

  They joined the throngs of white collar workers and tourists strolling down Broadway toward the Park. At several construction sites, blue collar laborers sat on steel beams and concrete slabs, consuming sandwiches from the lunch boxes at their sides. The young men were quick to observe Lexie and Leatrice, and whistle and wink at them. As did most of the women that worked near the construction sites, they avoided eye contact, laughed off the suggestive compliments and kept walking.

  Inside the park, they found an empty park bench facing the metal rail and the bay. Mother and daughter donned their silk kerchiefs to keep the ocean breezes from wreaking havoc with their hair. Leatrice turned to Lexie and took her hand in hers. "All right, let's have it, what's bothering you."

  It all came flooding out, what she hid from. Her nightmares, which Leatrice quickly attributed to Insecurity, and Lexie's doubts about her relationship with Jim. And finally, something that she adamantly refused to consider until faced with her mother's discerning wit, "I can't deny it any longer, Mom. I miss my home, the country, our way of life at the ranch, the snow-capped mountains, the wide open spaces, riding the open fields, the prairies, and hiking through the rolling hills heavy with spruce. And I miss..."

  Lexie's voice trailing off on a pause, as though she'd stopped herself from saying more, did not escape her mother's notice. "And you miss...?" Leatrice asked gently.

  Lexie's eyes filled with tears, but she quickly lifted her free hand and brushed them away. "And," she added shamefaced, "I miss Chris' love and caring ways. I miss the good times, and the carefree fun we shared."

  Leatrice asked, "Chris' love and caring ways, the good times, the carefree fun — but doesn't Jim supply that?"

  "Yes, but... Oh, it's just not the same. He's not Chris," she said. "Not by a long run," she added, falling back on a childhood idiom.

  "In other words," Leatrice clarified, "You're still in love with Chris."

  Lexie nodded. Hearing the words from her mother who always understood her better than anyone, even her father, as much as he cared for her, there was no escaping the truth. She made a terrible mistake breaking off her engagement to Chris and splitting his heart in two.

  Leatrice breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, this at least takes care of part of the problem."

  "How? I'm miserable."

  "The moving in part."

  "Oh, that," she dismissed, a moot point now that she realized who she truly loved.

  On the same wavelength, Leatrice said, "Well, why don't you tell Chris how you feel?"

  "Mother, I can't just walk up to him and tell him our engagement is back on again. I broke his heart, and worse, his trust."

  "Yes, you did," Leatrice said.

  "What's to make him think, I won't do it again."

  "Whatever made you do it in the first place?"

  Lexie gazed plaintively at Leatrice. "Stupidity," she answered. "I had everything I wanted, and I stupidly thought I needed more."

  Leatrice sighed. "I guess it's partly my fault. Your father left your upbringing mostly in my hands. And like my own parents, I saw only the good in you. As Seth would say if he was listening to this conversation, we spoiled you rotten," Leatrice said, with a sentimental chuckle.

  "No, you didn't," Lexie protested. "You and Dad were firm in teaching me right from wrong. I've stayed on the straight and narrow." Her chin rose proudly.

  Leatrice smiled warmly. The way her daughter's chin rose proudly and the serious intent in her voice brought back the image of Lexie as a child.

  "Yes," she agreed. At least we didn't fail you in that respect. We tried to be fair with all three of you, but we were tougher on your brothers, and thank God, they've grown up to be fine upstanding young men of good character."

  Again that nose turning up, Lexie said, smarting a bit, "They have their faults as well."

  Leatrice assuaged, "Yes, they do, of course. No one's perfect." She heaved a deep sigh. "Okay. Let's get back to you and Chris."

  "He hates me, mom. I think he'd rather marry a rattlesnake than marry me now."

  "That may be, but you'll never know for sure unless you tell him how you feel."

  Leatrice heard the dismay in her daughter's reply.

  "I'm ashamed, and I'm afraid to hear the contempt in his voice. You know how sensitive he is. He'll reject me and my Driscoll pride will rear up, and I'll say or do something even more stupid."

  "Daughter dearest, you will have to tell your pride to go to hell, just as I did a long time ago."

  Lexie looked beseechingly at Leatrice. There it was again, that little girl gazing up with tear-filled eyes. Leatrice pursed her lips with determination. "There are no two ways about it. You tell Jim the truth that you are still in love with Chris, and that nothing can change that. At least that will leave Jim free to grieve and get on with his own life."

  "And―" Lexie gazed pleadingly.

  "And you'll get on with the business of recapturing Chris' trust."

  "Mom he hates me now. I saw it in the way he looked at me and I heard it in his voice. Dry, cold."

  "A love as strong and timeless as Chris' has held for you from childhood, does not die overnight. The man is angry with you, and rightly so. He's hurt and lost his faith in you. But you are Driscoll's daughter, and I'm your mother. You'll get him back, if you want him."

  "Should I go back home, then?"

  "I believe so. I plan to stay at least a week. It will give you time to clear the air with Jim. Don't leave him hanging. Tell him the truth. I'll write to Seth and ease his mind that you're definitely not moving in with your lawyer friend. And in the meantime, you can try to regain some of the friendship you and Chris shared growing up."

  "Maybe if I got on my hands and knees and begged his forgiveness —"

  "Absolutely not!" Leatrice said. "He wouldn't have much respect for you if you did that."

  "No, you're right, mom. Begging would be tantamount to my having a temper tantrum cause I can't get what I want now. No. I have to somehow prove to him that I love him sincerely and I'm worth his taking a chance on me not to break his heart again. Somewhat like you did with Dad."

  "Well said, daughter." Leatrice reassured her. Shaking her head, she added, "And believe me, Lexie, coming from my own experience, it's not going to be easy."

  Jim did not ask her out to dinner that evening, understanding she would want to spend some quality time alone with her mom. But the following day —

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Lexie wasn't surprised when Jim cornered her as she walked past the reception desk toward the door leading to the employee lounge for her afternoon break. Ever since returning yesterday from lunch with her mother, the friendly banter she shared with him often during the day, was definitely missing.

  "Okay, out with it, what's wrong?" Jim asked, arm raised over her shoulder, his hand against the door so she couldn't walk out.

  "Nothing that we can discuss here and now," Lexie answered.

  "It's that serious?"

  Jim read the answer in the sad glance she cast up at him. "That bad?" he asked, lowering his arm, and opening the door so she could walk out.

  "Have dinner with me, tonight?" he as
ked, hopefully.

  Lexie nodded and went out.

  At dinner that evening, she told Jim right off. Just two simple sentences that broke yet another heart. "I can't marry you. I'm still in love with Chris." He didn't argue with her. Just got up and left. She didn't blame him. I know, she thought miserably, arguing with her guilt, I sure know how to hurt a guy. She paid for own dinner that night, and her cab home, although she never made it past the appetizer and took the rest home in plastic takeout containers, glad she'd insisted on a frugal restaurant and meal.

  Lexie felt even worse the next morning, when she found an envelope on her desk, with an apology, and the money she'd spent on the dinner bill and cab fare. Jim came into the office very early, left the envelope on her desk, and went home. She doubted he'd slept any more than she had, and probably wore the same haggard expression and dark circles around his eyes as she did.

  She made it through the day, but not before she handed in her one-week resignation letter to the senior partner, Jim's father. "Will that be enough time to find a replacement," she asked the dignified grey-haired gentleman. She felt stupid asking, as if there was not a long list of applicants waiting to fill her file-clerk job.

  "We'll be fine," he said, simply.

  Something in the way he didn't question her resignation, made her think he probably knew the reason. Perhaps Jim visited his parents last night, needing some comfort, someone to talk to. He was not a drinker, and rarely went to a bar, one of the reasons she welcomed his company.

  Lexie paused at the door. She turned and blurted out, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

  Harold Nelson raised his head from the document he studied and glanced at her noncommittally. His next words confirmed her suspicions. "It's all right, Miss Driscoll. You get on with your life. We'll get on with ours."

  Biting her lower lip as she held back tears threatening to spill, Lexie returned to her desk.

  Jim did not show up for work the following day as well, and when Lexie inquired about his health from his secretary, she learned he was taking a week's vacation in Montreal, Canada. As far away from me as possible, Lexie thought. I'll never see him again. And when he's over me, I'll be just a bad memory; one to learn from. Not for the first time in her life, Lexie didn't like herself.

  On her last day at work, her coworkers who included the partners' secretaries took her out to lunch and wished her well wherever her future led her, as her plans for now only included returning to her home in Montana. As Lexie headed for the exit door to the hallway and elevators, JoAnn, Jim's secretary motioned to her to wait a moment. The tall blonde, in her late twenties, slipped the quarter size envelope she held into Lexie's hand. "I received this yesterday morning with instructions to give it to you personally just before you left." Only Lexie's name was written on the outside of the envelope, but she recognized Jim's handwriting, smooth neat slanted cursive. JoAnn squeezed her hand, wishing her well. "Take care of yourself. Goodbye."

  Lexie returned the woman's smile in earnest and tucked the envelope into her coat pocket. She left the office and headed toward the elevators.

  The crowded subway and Long Island Railroad, and the five blocks to her apartment in the converted cape cod, along with the fear she might break into tears, prevented her from opening the envelope. Not until she hung up her coat in the closet, and changed into her favorite pair of comfortable jeans and white V-necked T-shirt, did she slip the small envelope from her coat pocket. She sat down at her kitchenette table and tore it open. She unfolded the pastel blue colored note and read it.

  My dearest Lexie,

  I know that when you make up your mind, you don't often change it. And this note is not meant to ask you to rethink your decisions. I want only to wish you the best and to let you know that I understand your reasons. It was not easy coming to this understanding. I spent the entire night after I left you in the restaurant — for which I apologize once more — formulating arguments as to why you should be in love with me, and not Chris. But none of them would stand up in a court where the heart is the judge. You loved Chris longest, long before you met me. I've only known you a year, but it was enough for me to fall head over heels in love with you. I can't compete with your former love or meet the criteria you set for yourself long before you came to my City. Be happy my sweet Lexie. I hope Chris knows how lucky he is.

  All the best,

  Jim

  Lexie refolded the note and went into her bedroom. She opened the top drawer of her oak wood dresser where she kept her handkerchiefs, gloves and scarves and a small darkwood letter chest. She opened the chest — it contained her correspondence with her parents and dearest friends — and slipped the note gently into the chest, and closed the drawer.

  Her glance fell on the flight tickets stamped for late Sunday night at JFK for the trip home together with her mother and Chris.

  Leatrice joined her early the following morning to help her pack. She brought bagels, cream cheese and milk, and a gallon take-out container of coffee. After a hearty breakfast, they spent the day tackling the closets and dresser. Mother and daughter neatly folded and packed two large wheelie suitcases and a carry-on tote bag. As for the kitchenette, Lexie chose only two favorite mugs, one painted with a snow-capped mountain landscape, and the other, emblazoned on one side with the name, Doctor Who printed in blue letters. Nothing appeared on the other side of the mug, that is, until you poured boiling water into it, and a blue image of an old English police box materialized and stayed until the water cooled. She was a fan of the Doctor Who series and had purchased the mug at a science fiction and fantasy convention held in the City.

  The remaining cups, dishes, glasses and cutlery in the kitchenette were bargain sale items purchased at discount stores merely for necessity.

  "What about the comforter and bedding?" Leatrice asked.

  "Leave it, Mom; they came with the furniture already here when I rented the apartment."

  Leatrice checked her watch. It was past eight in the evening. She gazed at her daughter sitting on the edge of the bed surrounded by her zippered luggage. Lexie sat unusually quiet for the loquacious child she had reared. "Are you all right?" she asked with motherly concern.

  Lexie nodded.

  Leatrice asked, "You're a little scared, aren't you?"

  "I'm a lot scared, Mother. I've convinced myself I'm doing the right thing by realizing I'm still in love with Chris and coming home, hoping I can recapture his heart. But I'm scared of what the future holds. Scared that he won't want me back. You know Mom, he's not that besotted little boy, or that fumbling teenager who couldn't believe his luck when I accepted his proposal. He's a man now, his formal education completed, who has dealt with heartbreak and come out stronger and wiser. For all we know, he may have already fallen for someone else, someone he feels safer with, than the girl who turned on him."

  Leatrice joined her daughter on the edge of the bed and wrapped a consoling arm about her shoulders. "I felt that way once, long ago, when I made my decision to play my last card with your dad."

  Lexie knew the story by heart. "But Mom, Dad always loved you. And you never broke his trust. You proved yourself to him time and time again."

  "And even that," Leatrice said, "almost wasn't enough."

  Lexie argued, "Linda could never have made him happy like you have."

  "But she was the safer choice," Leatrice said. She would have stayed faithful to him, just as she has to Tanner. He's never regretted marrying her."

  Lexie smiled at the twists and turns in life. "Yeah, Tanner told me once when I was a kid, and curious why people married. He told me he'd been in love with Linda for the longest time, but he never told her because he knew she wanted Dad."

  "It turned out okay, though," Leatrice said, chuckling. "She was my worst enemy in the beginning. Now she's one of my closest friends."

  Lexie turned a pleading glance to her mother. "Mom, do you think I'll be as lucky as you and Dad were?"

  "I don't know, dearest. I'd be l
ying to say otherwise. But whatever your future, you are going to be strong, face it, and make the best of it. That's the daughter Seth and I raised."

  The door bell rang and both women left the bed and glanced out the window. Chris tipped his Stetson back to gaze up and wave to Leatrice, and moved back to stand by the same rental car in which he'd brought her to Lexie's apartment that morning. Lexie noted how he purposely avoided meeting her gaze.

  "Hey, listen, how about I ask Chris to come back in the morning, and I can stay the night with you. I think you can use the company tonight."

  Lexie hesitated, as she battled her ego telling her she did not need her mother's protective company to face her problems. But Leatrice's next words, won her over.

  "I saw that small bottle of Sangria cooling in your fridge. A couple of glasses of light, sweet wine, a movie on the telley, and a confidant to share small talk, can help us both get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow morning we can visit the City before coming back in the evening to the motel to gather mine and Chris' luggage, and here to give the apartment a quick once-over, and finish loading the luggage into the trunk of the car before heading to the airport."

  Lexie nodded, silently agreeing.

  Leatrice went down the stairs to advise Chris. Lexie watched through the window as Chris bid her mother goodnight with his old familiar salute Lexie knew so well. A couple fingers raised to his temple where his Stetson sat casually slanted a little to the side. An old familiar warmth rose up her chest and her face. How could she have forgotten how much she admired his casual manner. Even the way he leaned with hardly any weight or force against the side of a fence, or the car in this instance. It was all coming back, all the small characteristics she loved about him and felt so comfortable with, that her prodigal self had displaced under her misguided desire for new vistas.

  Lexie withdrew from the window. Leatrice mentioned earlier that Chris wished to visit St. Patrick's Cathedral before they left New York. He had always hoped to see it one day but had never had the opportunity. Leatrice suggested to Lexie, this might be a good place to start recapturing his heart, a good place to offer a special prayer for all the heavenly aid she might need.