Espresso in the Morning

by Dorie Graham

  “Trying?” Grey nearly snorted. “Trying to do what? Drive me nuts with her?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Hey, are you two ready to roll?” Claire asked from the doorway.

  Lucas patted Grey’s shoulder. “Come on, you can have shotgun.”

  As they headed to the car, Claire touched Grey’s arm and he pulled away. Lucas slipped his hand in hers and squeezed. He shouldn’t, but her sobs when she’d called last night and the way she’d looked so hurt by Grey’s rejection weakened his resistance.

  She squeezed back and he almost smiled for the first time that morning. He’d at least found one small way to help. He had to get her to talk to Grey about her PTSD. And maybe, just maybe, talking to her son would prompt her to get help.

  And if she did that, then there was still hope for them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  ACUTELY AWARE OF Claire’s presence as he’d been all morning, Lucas brushed the dirt from Lady’s headstone. Grey had come up with the inscription. He smiled at the boy as he stood. “What do you think, Grey? Do you like it?”

  “It’s awesome,” Grey said. “‘Our beloved Lady. Her time with us was short, but filled with love.’”

  “Short and simple, but it says it all.” Lucas glanced at Claire. She met his gaze and for a moment the old connection sparked between them.

  Grey wrapped his arms around Lucas’s waist, drawing his attention away from Claire. Sadness cloaked Grey’s features. He hugged Lucas close, burying his face in his T-shirt. Lucas’s throat tightened as he glanced again at Claire. She’d kept her distance all morning, when all he’d wanted was to hold her close like this.

  He patted the boy’s back. “She’s in a better place, buddy.”

  Grey nodded against his shirt. His shoulders shook and his silent tears made Lucas ache. Lady’s death was like a catalyst, bringing up all the other grief in the boy’s life, the abandonment by his father, his worry over his mother and his perpetual exhaustion. He couldn’t keep this up much longer.

  Tears glistened in Claire’s eyes. She turned and moved up the trail, away from the sight of her son seeking comfort from Lucas. Lucas swallowed, pressing his lips together to keep from calling to her, wishing he could scoop her into his embrace with Grey. She was only respecting his wishes by keeping her distance.

  A cold breeze cut through the yard, but Lucas held fast to Grey, letting the boy take as long as he needed to purge his grief. Heaven knew he had a load of it and there was no end in sight if Claire continued as she was. At long last Grey straightened and dropped his hold on Lucas.

  He scrubbed his hands over his eyes, which were red and puffy. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “No need to apologize, Grey,” Lucas assured him. “I promised you I’d be here for you whenever you need me and that’s true no matter what happens between me and your mom. Okay?”

  Grey nodded, sniffing as the last shudders of grief hit him. “Are you two going to work things out?”

  “I hope so. I really want to and I think she does, too.” He glanced down the path Claire had taken. “It’s just really complicated.”

  “I know she doesn’t make anything easy, but please promise you’ll try. Just because you couldn’t fix Lady, that doesn’t mean you can’t still fix Mom. She says she’s doing it her way, but her way isn’t working because she’s too broken to fix herself, so she needs your help, even if she acts like she doesn’t.”

  Lucas took Grey by his arms. How to make the boy understand? “It all depends on your mom. I had a friend who went through something like this and I don’t think I can go through it again. I can’t make her get help. Do you understand? It’s up to her.”

  Grey nodded, his gaze downcast. He looked so dejected, Lucas felt it in the pit of his stomach. He’d thought he understood Grey’s plight because of his experience with Toby, but he’d never had to deal with a mother with PTSD.

  “Let’s find your mom,” he said.

  Grey ran ahead along the trail. They found Claire in the gazebo, leaning against the railing. She startled as her son pounded up the steps, but she recovered quickly and managed a smile for him, though it fell short of her eyes. She spread her arms in welcome, but Grey stopped short, halting at arm’s length.

  Disappointment flickered across her face, but her smile faltered only briefly. Her gaze touched Lucas’s, as though she needed the reassurance he was there.

  “Are you ready for rock climbing?” she asked Grey. “Amanda wants to try the next level today.”

  Grey nodded and neither one commented on the other’s puffy eyes. This had been a hard morning all around. Without a word, Grey turned and headed toward the car.

  Lucas followed behind with Claire. Again he couldn’t resist taking her hand, giving her what little comfort he could. “He’s hurting,” he said.

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “It isn’t just about Lady.”

  “Yes, I know that, too.” She paused and shook out her free hand. “I’m trying.”

  “You can’t do this on your own, Claire. You have to find someone to talk to. If you can’t do it for you, please do it for Grey.” He reached for her other hand, but she pulled away and wrapped her arms around her waist.

  “I can’t talk about it,” she said. “Not yet, but I’m trying to get there.”

  “He can’t take much more of this. At least tell him you have PTSD. You don’t have to tell him why.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what happened to you, but I understand you’re facing a very real disorder, one that’s treatable.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know what to tell him.”

  “Tell him that. Tell him about the disorder and let him know that there’s a solution. It’s frightening for him because he knows something’s wrong, but no one will tell him what it is. If he knows it’s a treatable disorder, he’ll have an easier time dealing with it.”

  Again, she shook her head. “I can’t, Lucas. That won’t be enough. I know my son. He won’t stop until he knows everything and...I just can’t.”

  “Then let me explain it to him. He can grill me all he wants. I don’t know anything, but at least he’ll have something.”

  “No.” She stopped and faced him. “You can’t. He’ll just come to me for the rest and... I can’t. Please, just leave it alone. I promise I’ll deal with it.”

  “You’re not dealing with it, though, Claire. It’s getting worse, isn’t it? The flashbacks, the headaches, the anxiety attacks. You can’t take much more of this.”

  “I’m trying. Give me some time to work through it.” She hurried toward the car. “I can handle it.”

  He shook his head as he followed her, a sense of impending doom descending on him. If she kept going as she was, would she end up like Toby?

  He closed his eyes as the fear flooded him. He couldn’t handle that, not again and not with Claire. God help him, he loved her.

  * * *

  “IT WAS NICE of you to let me meet you for coffee, Claire,” Becca said the next week as she set down her drink, then sank into the chair beside Claire. “This is a nice place.”

  Claire glanced around the clean lines of the tables and chairs. Low-backed sofas circled a glass-and-steel coffee table at the center of the shop. Tinted windows darkened the entire space, while the strumming of an acoustic guitar filled the air. It wasn’t The Coffee Stop, but this was where she and Grey had come before to avoid Lucas and, though she was dying to see him, she couldn’t handle having Becca ask the million questions she was bound to ask.

  She missed Lucas. She missed the sight of him, the sound of his voice, his quiet and reassuring presence. The outing to get the headstone for Lady had been so painful, she’d avoided his coffee shop since.

  He’d been right to leave her. They couldn’t keep going the way they had been.

  “I thought you and Grey were all about that other coffee shop,” Becca said. “You know, the one with that guy—what’s his name...Lucas?—I’ve been hea
ring so much about from your son.”

  “It was time for a change,” Claire said, pasting on a smile.

  The last thing she’d wanted this morning was to face her perfect sister, but Becca rarely called and asked to see her like this. With the exception of their Sunday rock-climbing sessions, where they were focused on Grey and Amanda, they normally saw each other only in passing when they dropped off and picked up kids. They rarely took the time for just the two of them to sit down together.

  “So, how is everything going? Grey’s been behaving, hasn’t he?” Claire asked.

  Becca’s eyes widened. “Oh, Grey has been great. He always is. You have an awesome kid there.”

  “I know. I’m very lucky.”

  Becca fidgeted with her cup, rolling it between her hands. “He’s just seemed upset lately.” Her gaze locked with Claire’s. “Is everything okay at home?”

  Claire’s stomach tightened. “Everything’s fine. We’re keeping busy, as always.”

  “But, Claire, he’s exhausted and frankly I don’t understand why you have to drag him to kingdom come and back. It’s a real issue for him.”

  Claire gritted her teeth. She should have known this wasn’t a social call. “Becca, look, I know you mean well, but everything is fine.”

  “I talked to Kyle about this and I don’t think I’m overreacting. This thing has been building for a long time.”

  “What thing? What did you talk to Kyle about?” Claire’s heart thudded.

  “About you. About this talk I had with Grey,” Becca said.

  “What about me? What talk with Grey? Quit beating around the bush, Becca. Obviously you wanted to meet today so you could tell me something or ask me something, so out with it.”

  “Grey asked me what’s wrong with you. He asked why you get spooked in your own home, why you constantly check all the locks and behind the doors, why you sometimes hide yourself away in your room and don’t answer, even when he pounds on the door. He asked me why you’re not normal. He asked me to fix you, because Lucas couldn’t anymore.”

  The tingling spread from Claire’s fingertips and up her arms. She gasped, but managed to draw a steadying breath. She had no idea Grey had noticed all of these things. Had he pounded on her door when she’d been in the midst of a panic attack and she hadn’t heard him? Why hadn’t he talked to her about it? And the fact that he had talked to both Becca and Lucas sent humiliation spiraling through her.

  Becca leaned over the table. “Claire, talk to me. What’s going on? Do you need help?”

  How had she let herself get blindsided like this? Claire pasted on a smile. “I’m fine, Becca. I appreciate your concern. I’ll talk to Grey, I promise. Listen, I have to get going. I’ve got three new clients I’m developing proposals for and I promised one of them a cost analysis by this afternoon.”

  “Wait, Claire, don’t go yet. Can we finish talking about this? I’m concerned about you.”

  Claire waved her hand as though sweeping away the conversation. “There’s nothing more to talk about. I’ll handle it.”

  Heat bloomed in her cheeks as she strode to her car. She’d pull herself together. If she focused on Grey and work, surely she could beat this thing. If Grey needed normal, she was going to do her best to give him normal. Her son deserved that.

  * * *

  ADELE CROONED FROM the speakers on Gram’s desktop as Grey scraped leftover spaghetti noodles into a plastic container and Gram loaded the dishwasher. It had been a satisfying evening. Gram had made good on her promise to teach him to cook. He’d made his first meatballs, cooked his first noodles and heated the sauce, while she made a salad and toasted garlic bread.

  “That was a great meal,” he said. “I’m stuffed.”

  “Me, too,” she said, rubbing her stomach. “We’re on our way to making you a top chef. Those meatballs were superb.”

  Grey nodded. “And it was fun. Can we make tacos next time?”

  “Tacos would be good,” she said. “And you should learn to roast a chicken. It’s easy and you can do so much with the leftovers. We can shred the chicken to make barbeque, then there’s soup to be made from the bones. I’d need you for at least a week to show you all that.”

  “A week?” What would it be like to spend an entire week at his grandmother’s? “That would be like a vacation.”

  She laughed. “Oh, no, not a vacation. I’d make you work for your supper.”

  “I like to work,” he said. “Especially if that means cooking. I can do other chores, too, like wash the dishes and take out the trash. I’d be a big help.”

  She straightened away from the dishwasher and looked at him. “Grey, do you want to stay here with me for an extended time like that, like for a week?”

  Grey could hardly contain his excitement. “I would love that. Is it a possibility? You’d have to take me to school and pick me up. I don’t think the bus comes out this way.”

  Gram frowned. “I’d have to talk to your mom, of course, but getting you to and from school wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “You’d do that?” he asked. “You’d let me stay?”

  “Honey, Aunt Becca says you’re not happy at home. Is that why you want to stay here?”

  The knot he always had in his stomach at home twisted again. “Things are okay.”

  “Are you sure? Because it’s okay of you want to talk about it. Your aunt told me a little about what you told her.”

  He shrugged. “I think maybe it wouldn’t hurt if Mom and I had a little break from each other.”

  “She’ll be here soon. I’m going to talk to her when she arrives, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said.

  The sick feeling mushroomed inside him. Mom wasn’t going to like this, but if he could get caught up on some sleep at least, maybe it would be easier to handle all the craziness after that.

  The tight feeling in his gut intensified when her car pulled up in the driveway a short while later. Gram glanced his way as she opened the door. Mom hurried in, her hair again in the sweaty ponytail, her cheeks flushed.

  “I covered a class for one of the night kickboxing teachers,” she said by way of explanation.

  Gram wasted no time. She gestured to the living room where Grey sat. “Come sit for a minute,” she said. “I have something I want to ask you.”

  Mom tried to catch Grey’s eye, but he looked away, feeling nauseous. She sat on the sofa beside him, her back straight and not touching the cushion.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  Gram settled in the chair near them. “I want you to think about this before you answer. Take the time you need. You can let me know in a day or two.”

  “This sounds serious.” Again, Mom glanced at him, but he couldn’t look her in the eye. “What’s this about?” she asked.

  Gram leaned forward. “I’d like to keep Grey with me for a while, for at least a week, maybe more. I think it would do you both good. I’d love it and so would he—”

  “You’ve already talked about this?” She faced Grey. “Grey, is this something you want?”

  He shrugged. “We haven’t been getting along. Maybe a break would be a good idea.”

  She shook her head. “This is unbelievable.” Turning back to Gram, she said, “You’ve been talking to Becca, haven’t you?”

  “Becca mentioned Grey was unhappy and that she’d discussed it with you. Apparently you said you had it under control.” She gestured toward Grey. “Your son wants a break and this would give you an opportunity to do...whatever it is you need to do to get things under control over there. I think Grey is right. A break would do you both a lot of good.”

  Mom stood and pulled Grey up with her. “I appreciate the offer, really I do, Mother, but I don’t need to think about it. If the offer to keep him after Becca’s on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays is still open, we’d like to continue with that. But we’ll pass on anything beyond that. Grey, get your jacket. We’ve got to go.”

  Grey felt a deep disappo
intment as he pulled on his jacket. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. He was trapped at home and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

  * * *

  LUCAS GLARED AT the crackling fire. November had blown into Atlanta on a frigid wind and it hadn’t let up over the past weeks. The skies had been dark and overcast to match his mood.

  “Hey, boss, here’s something to warm you.” Ken took the seat to his right, placing a steaming mug on the table between them.

  Lucas frowned at him, confused. “Ken, why are you here? I thought you worked this morning.”

  “I did,” the older gentleman said. “I’m off the clock.”

  “So, why are you here this evening?”

  “I thought you could use a friendly ear. Besides, everyone else is afraid to come talk to you.”

  “What?” Lucas glanced at the counter, where Ramsey and Stephanie suddenly appeared to be intent on cleaning.

  “You’re making everyone miserable. You’ve been biting off heads left and right. Something’s bugging you and you need to get it off your chest, so we can get back to business.”

  The thought of his staff talking behind his back made Lucas’s temper flare. “Did you all draw straws and you came up short?”

  “I volunteered,” Ken said. “I do this job because I like it, not because I need it. If you can me it’ll be a big disappointment, but I’ll live.”

  Lucas scowled at the fire. He had been biting off heads. The situation with Claire was intolerable. He couldn’t be with her, but he was in a living hell without her. Evidently, he’d made sure his staff had joined him in that hell.

  “You’re right. Something is bugging me,” he said.

  Ken nodded toward the steaming mug as he cupped one of his own. “That’s Irish coffee, in case you’re interested, heavy on the Irish.”

  “Thanks.” Lucas took a tentative sip, then stared at the frothy drink. “I’m sorry I’ve made everyone miserable.”

  Ken waved his hand. “It hasn’t bothered me and the rest of them like you enough they’ll get over it. So, it’s the pretty brunette, the little one with the son? That’s what’s got you all twisted up?”