Rebecca sat. And waited.
Claire’s gaze drifted back to the bathroom, the abandoned chore of washing her wedding ring, as she thought about the significance it held. A menial task to be sure, but one she performed religiously. Once a week, she squirted a drop of dish soap over the ring, ran a brush in and around the diamonds, over and inside the gold band. Claire never bothered with fancy cleaners, not when plain old dish soap and hot water worked just as well.
But performing the task was a need. It was important that her ring sparkle and shine the same way it had the first day Jim slipped it on her finger. Modest in size, it was a single line of diamonds to either side of the solitaire engagement ring. Jim had infused the bands together to create her wedding ring and she had been mesmerized from the moment she saw it. In one piece of jewelry lay a symbol of promise, a lifetime of love. Allowing it to grow filmy with dirt felt like a betrayal to their wedding vows. Anything that detracted from its grandeur and beauty felt like a mar against their love.
Claire looked to her daughter and wondered if she understood what this one piece of jewelry meant to her mother. Could Rebecca possibly understand how much pride she took in caring for it? Caring for her family?
When she quit work, she’d had to give up a lot of “wants” and focus on “needs.” Gone were the designer purses and expensive clothes, the dinners at five-star restaurants. Scaling down to one income tightened a budget quicker than a cinch to one of Rob’s saddles but she had met the challenge head on. Coupon became the word of the day. Save became the motto of the month. But it had been a sacrifice Claire was willing to make. Kids over career had been an easy choice for her, one she never regretted.
Until now, that is.
Claire brushed strands of brunette hair from Rebecca’s face and knew there was no way she would have willingly missed a day of her children’s lives. She couldn’t fathom not being there when they came home from school, when they struck out in baseball or bruised a knee on the basketball court. She couldn’t imagine not listening to them go on and on about their day during the fifteen-minute car ride home, the new words they casually tossed out into conversation as a result of their lessons. No, she couldn’t imagine missing a single moment.
Tilting Rebecca’s chin toward her, she smiled. It was her job to groom her children into becoming kind and considerate and well-adjusted adults. It was her job to see they grew up happy and healthy. Gazing into Rebecca’s innocent brown eyes, Claire realized she had done her job. Her child felt loved. She had demonstrated love in her actions today.
Rebecca was confident and obviously independent. Claire stroked her hair, moving the silky lengths over her shoulder, smoothing them down in place. Did Rebecca and the boys understand how important they were to her? That for all the things she did and didn’t do, could have done or should have done, Claire could never have done better than the life she chose?
Being mother to them was the single most important job of her life. It was the one responsibility she wouldn’t relinquish, the feat she was most proud, grateful, and fulfilled by. Claire brushed the tears from her daughter’s eyes. And now, for Rebecca, her job was done. “Do you know how much I love you?”
Rebecca nodded, a glimmer of a smile appearing on her lips. “Remember when you made me ride in my booster seat until I was eleven?”
Claire stopped. She nodded at the mention, though it was completely unexpected.
“And all my friends made fun of me?”
“Yes,” she replied, a small sigh escaping as she recalled the countless times Rebecca would jump inside the car, slam the door and command, Let’s go—before anyone sees me! Caught off guard by the memory, Claire replied, “I’m sorry, but—”
“You said it was because you loved me,” Rebecca spoke over her. “You said it was because you loved me so much, and you didn’t want anything to happen to me.”
Tears pricked her eyes. “I did. I do,” Claire corrected. She cupped Rebecca’s chin and gave a gentle squeeze. “So much.”
“When I asked why other kids my age didn’t have to ride in them, you said it was because you loved me more than they loved their kids.”
“I said maybe that was why,” Claire countered with a light tug to her chin, mildly embarrassed by the retort.
“Whatever. It worked. I believed you. It wasn’t until Jimmy told one of his friends who told their mom—”
“Who called me on it right there at the front of the pick-up line,” Claire finished, chuckling softly. The memory swept through her chest like a billowy cloud of nerves and pleasure. One afternoon, one of her close friends was standing outside the car while she sat in the pickup line, waiting for dismissal. Jimmy climbed into his seat and strapped on his belt as usual, and her friend’s son stepped up onto the running board of her SUV and peered inside. “Jimmy still rides in a car seat?” he inquired ever so innocently.
Claire had to silence her immediate reaction: Leave him be. He’s only nine and barely grazing sixty pounds. But it was her friend’s comment that truly merited her silence.
Standing behind her boy, she announced, “I hear Mrs. Atkins loves her children more than the other parents and that’s why they still ride in car seats.” Her friend winked, ensuring Claire all was forgiven, but Claire had felt absolutely mortified. Busted.
“I remember it well,” she said to Rebecca.
Rebecca leveled her gaze. “It meant that you were a good mom. We were always your first priority and we knew it.”
Tears careened into Claire’s eyes as she smiled.
“Why are you crying?”
“I always cry, remember? Movies, commercials, sweet sappy Hallmark cards.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah...”
How quickly they forget, Claire mused. Struck by the unwelcome thought, she stilled. Is this what it’s going to be like when she moves to Paris? Halfway across the world, would Rebecca forget the little details of home? The special idiosyncrasies of family?
Folding hands in her lap, Claire fought the anxiety unfurling within her. She didn’t want to lose her daughter to distance and time. She wanted to tie her down and keep her close—within hugging distance. But she couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
Feeling for the missing ring on her finger, Claire thought about all she had invested, all she stood to lose should her daughter move away and never look back. In a fleeting rush to escape the fear, Claire assured herself Rebecca wasn’t that girl. She wasn’t the child to fly out of the nest, never to return. She offered to stay, didn’t she? That had to mean something.
“It’ll be okay,” Claire whispered, drawing Rebecca’s full attention. “I promise you, it will be okay.”
SIMONE
Dressed in black slacks and gray striped button down, his bright paisley tie loosened at the collar as though he were finished for the day, Mitchell strolled into Simone’s office. While he looked right at home amongst the professional black chairs, the line of diplomas and awards on the wall, the blocks of city outside the windows, his unannounced arrival sparked concern. Seated at her desk, a slew of files and papers arranged before her, Simone stared at him. Did he just arrive by plane? Had he been home yet? Her pulse fired through her veins. Her husband rarely stopped by her office. She smacked her pen down. “Mitchell—is something wrong?”
He came around and pulled her up, the familiar spice cologne still clinging to him at this late hour of the day. “I’ve been doing some thinking,” he said, his tone quiet, supple, wholly unsuited for the office environment.
“Thinking?” Simone’s brain thrashed through possible meanings, potential problems, issues that needed resolution. What could Mitchell be thinking that warranted a trip to her office, four o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon?
“Thinking,” he said, “that maybe you’re right about Ray holding the fort while I’m in Chicago.” He smiled and his quick grin nearly stole her breath away. “This is your big chance and I want to be there for you. You deserve it and besides,” he sai
d, cocking his head to one side, “how can I stay away from that smile of yours?”
Simone’s knees grew weak.
Mitchell pulled her close, his gaze twinkling with delight. “I can’t.”
She shook her head, a mix of pleasure and confusion gathering deep in her belly. “You were gone three days, Mitchell.”
He pecked her lips. “Three days that felt like an eternity.”
Simone smiled involuntarily and felt heat rise to her cheeks. “But Mitchell, you don’t have to get Ray to cover for you.”
“What? You don’t want me to come now?”
“No.”
His expression fell. He dropped his hands from her waist as his hazel eyes colored in disappointment. “Something else happen in those three days I should know about?”
Simone suppressed a swell of nerves. “I turned the promotion down.”
“You what? Because of me?” Mitchell raked a hand through his brown hair and ducked his head in shame. “Oh, babe, I’m sorry,” he said, then seized her by the shoulders. “Call Len back. Let him know you’ll take it. It was a weak moment. Blame it on your husband. Blame it on—”
Amused by his panic, she put a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him. “It’s not because of you,” Simone informed softly. “It’s because of Mariah.”
“Mariah?” He pulled back and dropped a hand to her desk. “Oh hell—what’s she done now?”
“Nothing.” Simone shrugged. “Nothing other than act like a headstrong eighteen-year-old girl, anyway.”
Mitchell blew out a sigh, stress oozing from his limbs. He held a hand to his forehead. “You lost me.”
“I can’t move to Chicago when she needs me here.”
Comprehension was like a slow match, lighting his expression from deep within. Mitchell slowly lowered his hand, rolled a glance around the spacious office, the bank of windows crammed with a view of commercial buildings until finally settling on her eyes as he completely absorbed the statement. “Are you sure?”
Simone nodded.
Mitchell’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he pulled her to him. “You are amazing, you know that?”
Desire tingled and a small smile returned to her lips. Simone fought the awkwardness of intimacy in the confines of her public domain as emotion swirled through her. She didn’t feel amazing. She felt confused, concerned, anxious and even a little scared. Tears pushed behind her eyes. But amazing?
“You are the best mother on planet Earth.” Locking her within his hold, Mitchell kissed her gently on the lips. “And the most incredible wife.” He kissed her again, humming his mouth over hers. “A man couldn’t ask for better.”
Although Simone didn’t quite feel it in her heart, she liked hearing him say the words all the same. She liked having him kiss her this way.
With measured reluctance, Mitchell pulled away. He hitched a hip onto the corner of her desk and maneuvered Simone to stand between his legs. Running fingers through her hair, he combed it away from her face, as though being reunited with a lover after a long absence. He scrutinized her features, lingered on her mouth. “Do you know how much I love you?”
Simone nodded and settled her hands upon his thighs. She thought she knew. They were married, happily so. Of course he loved her.
“And not because you gave up your promotion, but in spite of it.”
“In spite of it?” She looked at him sharply. Now he wasn’t making any sense.
“Your ambition is one of the things I love most about you.”
“It is?” Simone asked, confusion sprinkling through her mind.
“Yes.” He grinned. “You are so determined. Not only is your career important to you, but you excel at what you do, and that achievement radiates from every inch of you.” Mitchell slid his hand beneath her hair, down either side of her neck. His richly scented cologne enveloped her senses as he held her close. “Your drive makes you exciting. I find you more attractive because you’re always on the go, always on the verge of something big, and then something bigger.”
She laughed, making light of his praise. “Well, that is the goal.”
“It is.” Mitchell paused, as though savoring her. “But watching you makes me want you all the more. You don’t stop. You’re like a powerhouse in motion, a living, breathing thrill. There’s always something new around the corner—I can never predict what you’re going to do next.” He nuzzled his nose to hers. “And I don’t want to. I want to be surprised.” Mitchell kissed her again. “You’re my equal, my other half.” He nibbled at her lips and Simone’s insides melted with joy. “You complete me both mentally and emotionally. Where would I be without you?” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’d be nowhere. Nowhere.”
This time when Mitchell kissed her, Simone forgot she was in her office, forgot her rules of decorum when it came to public displays of affection. She succumbed. Her door was open. Any number of employees could walk by and see she was making out with her husband!
But who cared. Simone slid her arms around his waist and pressed into him. His mouth turned demanding as he held her head to his, drenching her mouth with his in a passionate show of desire, of want. Mitchell kissed her with the force of love, the tenderness of a husband, the desire of a man. He was hers, and she was his.
And Mariah was theirs. They were a family, a unit. They were what mattered, what made the difference between success on paper and reward in life.
Losing herself to the man she adored, Simone knew she couldn’t live without Mitchell. She couldn’t live without her daughter. A world filled with fortune and fame held no interest if it lacked love and support. She wanted a life partner to share her success. She wanted her family to share in her fulfillment. Without Mitchell and Mariah waiting at the top, the ladder of success wasn’t worth climbing.
# # #
Simone lifted the heavy pewter frame from the sofa table, the metal cold and solid in her hands. Easing into a lean against the curved edge of the sofa table, she took in the smiling face. It was taken on Mariah’s sixteenth birthday, the shot capturing her in a close-up as she opened a gift from her parents. Instinctively, Simone wanted to brush the hair from her daughter’s eyes, Mariah’s casual hairstyle hip, but a nuisance, forever falling in front of her face. But even partially obscured, her green eyes revealed her shock and pleasure. She had been mesmerized by the diamond pendant. It was the first real piece of jewelry she could call her own.
It was Mitchell’s idea. He’d said his daughter needed her first diamond, and he wanted it to come from them. Simone agreed. Their daughter was growing up, blossoming into a beautiful young woman and it was time she enjoyed the trinkets of beauty, especially those bestowed upon her with love. And how could it be more appropriate than it come from her father? Oh, Mitchell included Simone’s name on the card, but Mariah knew he picked it out. He had meticulous taste, distinctive taste. He liked clean lines, elegant settings and impeccable stones.
Simone glanced at the ring on her left hand. The layer of emerald cut diamonds sparkled as she moved it to and fro. Even in the dim lighting of her living room, it was exquisite. Mitchell had the set custom-designed, the wedding bands made to fit snugly around the single diamond that was her engagement ring. Simone returned her gaze to the photo, the diamond around Mariah’s neck. The colorless diamond had been pricey, but that smile her daughter wore when Mitchell secured it around her neck was worth every penny.
“Taking a trip down memory lane?”
Simone jumped. Gripping the hard edges of the picture frame, she turned toward Mariah. “I didn’t hear you come in,” Simone said, heart thumping beneath her ribs.
Looking at the photograph, Mariah said, “That was one of the best days of my life.”
Warmed by the sight of her child’s pleasure, Simone agreed. “It was a great party, wasn’t it?”
“Most definitely.” Mariah took a step closer. “I still wear that necklace.”
“I know.” Though the occasions had grown less frequ
ent, with Mariah’s collection of baubles growing over the years and her sense of style changing, Simone noticed each and every time she wore the pendant. “It’s a beautiful piece.”
“Very classic, very Dad.”
Simone nodded.
Coming to within a foot of her, Mariah leaned against the sofa’s edge. Linking arms across her chest, a bold spark fired up her gaze. “You know, it’s kinda your fault that I’m starting this business.”
“My fault?” Startled by the statement, Simone set the picture back in place and turned, wondering if she was in for another news flash from the recycling business front.
“Yes.”
A wry smile crossed Mariah’s lips which served to confuse her further. Simone had had about all the guilt that she could handle. What did they think—that she was guilt-Velcro? “May I ask how you make that connection?”
Mariah fiddled with the seam of the corner sofa cushion, the tobacco brown leather lustrous in the low light. “You’re the one who made me believe I could do it.”
Surprise dissolved Simone’s defensive posture. She sank weight into her hip against the table, but satisfaction elevated her spirit. You made me believe I could do it. She couldn’t be more proud. “You can do anything you set your mind to, you know that, right?”
Mariah nodded. “I want to be like you. I want to be successful, pay my own way.”
Mitchell’s words drifted to mind. She looks up to you. You’re her role model.
Was he right? Did Mariah really care about her opinion? Really want to be like her?
Mariah brandished a timid smile. “I want you to be proud of me, Mom.”
Simone lifted away from the table, reached out to touch her daughter’s cheek. Mariah’s skin was supple and warm beneath her fingertips. Simone regretted that her daughter didn’t already understand how very proud she was of her. “I am proud of you. So proud.”
“Even though I’m not going to college?”
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