The New Man

by Janice Kay Johnson

  He’d discovered when he started jogging that he wasn’t fit. Too much time behind a desk or in the car had taken a toll. He’d started slowly, as Dr. Ritter advised, using the machines at the health club, doing a little bit of weight lifting, a mile jog four mornings a week. Now he did three miles before work, more on the weekends. He’d quit eating crap, read the list of ingredients before he bought anything and had lost ten pounds he didn’t know he needed to lose.

  Maybe he should have told Helen; he would have, eventually, when the subject came up. But he wasn’t an invalid, he wasn’t dying, he hadn’t even come close to “checking out.”

  Lifting his head, he gazed unseeing through the window at the view over rooftops to the Sound. Why? he asked himself again. Why had Devlin said that?

  With a jolt, he realized this was “the truth” Dev had mentioned a couple of weeks ago.

  Was Devlin just making trouble? Or did he actually believe his father was going to die?

  Frowning, Alec thought back. He’d started having chest pains even before Linda got sick. He just hadn’t acknowledged it. He was too young, too healthy, to believe he could possibly have angina. Heartburn, he would tell himself, and pop an antacid.

  He’d been slow to believe he was having a heart attack, too. Classic dumb ass, taking eight, ten ant-acids, adding some ibuprofen, because the shoulder and arm pain must have been a pulled muscle, the pressure in the chest more of that pesky heartburn. He drove himself to the hospital, thinking all the way, They’re going to pat me on the back and send me home.

  A neighbor had kept the kids for the night, and Alec’s sister flew in from San Francisco to stay until he was on his feet again.

  Yeah, he’d had a scare, all right, but he thought the kids had understood that a scare was all it was. He hadn’t had a near-death experience. He remembered the fear in their eyes and the strain on their faces. These were kids whose mother had died only six weeks before. God! He wasn’t sure now he’d realized how devastated they must have been.

  Because that would have meant accepting that he hadn’t had a little medical glitch, he’d had a heart attack. Heart failure. Blood not pumping. He could have died.

  Lily had nodded with enormous relief at his explanation, hugged him and said, “I love you, Daddy.”

  Devlin had… Alec frowned, trying to remember. Nodded and left the room, he thought. Or maybe he hadn’t nodded.

  Maybe twelve-year-old Devlin’s instincts had all been screaming, Dad’s snowing us. He doesn’t want us to know.

  Alec hadn’t told them, for way too long, that their mother was dying. He hadn’t believed it himself. He’d throw himself into bed at night and think, Tomorrow she’ll have more color in her cheeks. The doctor and nurses will be smiling, because the chemo has finally kicked in.

  Medicine could do amazing things. He hadn’t wanted Lily and Devlin to be as scared as he was. They’d understood she was dreadfully sick, but when Lily asked early on if Mommy was going to die, Alec had exploded, “Of course not!”

  She’d shrunk back, and he remembered closing his eyes for an instant, getting a grip on himself, then pulling her against him and telling her about leukemia and the ways doctors could make it better.

  He hadn’t told them until the last couple of days that Mommy might not get better. By then, they’d probably known; in her hospital room it felt as if death circled the bed like a hungry wolf.

  Devlin, Alec thought now, might have reasoned that if Dad had lied about Mom, why believe him when he said he was going to be fine? He’d had a heart attack. People died after they had them. Dev might have heard talk, gone on the Internet, done some research, read about damage to the heart muscle and the temporary nature of the success won by angioplasty or bypass surgery.

  He might have concluded it was just a matter of time.

  Devlin had never come to Alec and asked for the truth. He hadn’t expressed curiosity about where he and Lily would live if his father did die. He’d just withdrawn.

  Alec felt like an idiot for not realizing sooner that Devlin’s sullenness had begun then. He suddenly wasn’t as helpful, or as eager to spend time with his dad. The open door that had allowed them all to talk about anything that bothered them had slammed shut.

  Which still begged the question, Why? Helen had talked about how Ginny had clung for years after her father died. Afraid of losing a second parent, she had held on for dear life. Wasn’t that the logical reaction?

  Alec scrubbed a hand over his face, felt the evening bristles on his chin. His face felt numb under his fingers.

  Why? he asked himself again. If you’re afraid you’re going to lose someone you love, you hold on tight. You think, She can’t die if I’m sitting here, holding her hand, believing. You don’t shrug and saunter away.

  Unless…

  He stiffened.

  Unless you’re already hurting so bad, you can’t take it again. Unless you think, If I don’t love him, I won’t care when he dies.

  Alec swore under his breath. Was that what Devlin had decided, whether consciously or not? That he couldn’t let himself love his father?

  As terrified as he was that Helen might never be willing to listen to him, Alec knew that he had to deal with Devlin first. Now. While he was still shaken up.

  No music pounded from Dev’s bedroom. Alec stood in the hall outside the door, a niggling fear twisting its way amongst the pain knotting his stomach. Devlin had come up to his room, hadn’t he?

  The knock brought no answer. When Alec opened it and went in, he found Devlin’s bedroom empty. The fear spread. He checked the bathroom, then every other room in the house.

  “Have you seen your brother?” he asked Lily tersely, when he passed through the family room.

  Eyes widening, she shook her head.

  Back in the kitchen, he grabbed his address book. Thank God he’d always insisted that both kids provide phone numbers of every friend. No exceptions, they didn’t go to anyone’s house unless the phone number was in this book.

  He started with Nick Arneson.

  “Hi, this is Alec Fraser, Devlin’s father. I’m trying to track down Devlin. I don’t suppose he’s with Nick? No? If you hear from him, will you let me know? Thanks.”

  He kept dialing. He knew damn well every one of those parents heard the terror behind the casual, just-temporarily-misplaced-the-kid tone. He didn’t care. He just wanted to find his son.

  Kyle Teuber was toward the end, but one of Dev’s best friends. By this time Alec’s throat felt raw and he was cold, enveloped by the awareness of how much more he had to lose today.

  Mary Lynn Teuber answered. “Why, no, Devlin hasn’t been over today.” But her voice seemed to trail off.

  Alec stiffened.

  “You know, I thought I heard the doorbell earlier, but when I asked, Kyle said no, it must have been the dryer. I do have a load in.” Exasperation edged her voice. “Hold on, Alec. I’ll find out.”

  He waited, rigid, ears straining. A minute ticked by, two.

  “Alec? Devlin’s here.”

  He sagged and breathed, “Thank God.”

  “He looked like he wanted to bolt, so I just marched him down to the kitchen with me. I can drive him home.”

  “No. Thank you. I’ll come for him. Will you make sure…” His throat clogged.

  “He’ll be here,” she promised.

  Alec detoured to the family room to tell Lily where he was going, then went back down to the garage. He had trouble getting the key in the ignition and realized his hands were shaking.

  Kyle’s house wasn’t more than a mile away. Alec parked in the driveway and went up to the front door. He’d no sooner rung the bell than the door swung open. Kyle’s mother and Devlin stood there, Kyle hovering in the background.

  She smiled at Alec, sympathy in her eyes. “Here’s the wandering child.” She leveled a stern look on his son. “Next time, say hi when you come in, Devlin.”

  He ducked his head and stepped out, followi
ng his father to the car. Night had fallen, but lights on each side of the garage let Alec see his son’s face.

  “You scared me,” he said quietly.

  Devlin shrugged but didn’t look at his father. He flung himself into the car and slammed the door.

  Alec got in, but made no move to start the engine. “You know, I’m not going to die for thirty or forty years.”

  The boy mumbled, “I just said that because…” His tongue touched his lips. He apparently couldn’t think of a good explanation.

  “Because you really thought it was true,” Alec finished. “Didn’t you?”

  Anger fired in Devlin’s eyes. “I know it’s true! You lied! Just like you did about Mom!”

  “No.” Alec rubbed his hands on his thighs. “I was lying about your mother, but I was lying to myself, too.” His sinuses burned. “I couldn’t believe she might really die. I refused to believe it.”

  He heard a sound, and saw that Devlin was crying. Alec reached for him, but the teenager hunched away.

  Alec pinched the bridge of his nose. His voice sounded ragged. “I also suppose it’s true that I didn’t want to believe anything big was wrong with me. Who does? The thing is, the doctors did fix it. I wasn’t lying. The last time I saw Ritter, he told me I didn’t need to be checked every six months. He says my heart looks great. The shunt isn’t plugging up. He says my problem was equivalent to having something backing up the plumbing. A routine job.”

  Devlin wiped his nose on his shirt sleeve and shouted, “I don’t believe you!”

  “What if he tells you the same thing?”

  His son gaped. “What?”

  Thinking it through, Alec said, “What if I call Dr. Ritter and ask if he’ll meet with us, explain what went wrong, what the odds are of a repeat?”

  “He…he might lie, too.”

  “Why would he?”

  “Because I’m a teenager! Nobody tells us anything!”

  Alec gripped the steering wheel, his hands aching. “Devlin, the only thing I have ever not told you was that your mother might die. The rest of your life I’ve been honest with you.”

  Trying for his usual sneer, Devlin said, “That’s kind of a biggie, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah. It was a biggie. That’s why…” Alec’s face worked as he fought to keep from crying. “That’s why I lied to myself.”

  Devlin drew a shuddery breath and said nothing for a long while. Finally, his voice sounding terribly young, he asked, “What difference does it make anyway? Whether I believe you?”

  Alec looked at his son. “Doesn’t it matter to you? Whether I’ll be there to see you play your first varsity basketball game, make you go to bed early the night before you take your SATs? If I’ll be in the audience when you graduate from high school, and then college? Whether I’ll meet your fiancée some day?”

  Devlin was openly crying now. “I don’t…I don’t want it…”

  “To matter?” His own eyes wet, Alec pulled his son into his arms. “I know. It hurts to lose someone you love.”

  Face against his father’s shoulder, the fourteen-year-old cried like the child he still was. Alec held him, and cried, too.

  KATHLEEN, HELEN, GINNY and Emma arrived home the next night, exhausted. Logan met them at the front door. He kissed his wife, hugged Emma and then looked at Helen.

  “Alec called.”

  Feeling hollow inside, she said, “I hope you didn’t promise I’d call him back.”

  He didn’t say anything, just looked at her steadily. She was the one to shift her gaze away.

  After an awkward moment, he asked, “Anybody hungry?”

  “Not me,” Helen said. “I’m going to take a bath and go to bed.”

  Leaning against her husband, Kathleen pleaded, “Let’s not do the fair again, okay?”

  “Never!”

  “We still have a week to go,” Kathleen moaned.

  A small whimper escaped Helen. “Bedtime,” she told Ginny, who nodded and trudged upstairs with her.

  She let her daughter have the bathroom first, then tucked her in. Ginny’s arms clung for a moment longer than usual.

  “I love you, Mommy.”

  She tried to smile. “I love you, too.”

  “Maybe…maybe Alec won’t die.”

  Helen flinched. “Honey…”

  Her daughter’s anxious eyes stayed fixed on her. “He said it’s not true.”

  “That’s not really the point.” She smoothed Ginny’s hair back from her forehead. “He lied to me. That’s what really bothers me.”

  “What if he does die, and you never know?”

  She tried to hide her shudder. “Ginny, I was dating him. Now I’ve decided that it isn’t a good idea. I’m only sorry if you got attached to Alec and Lily.”

  Ginny’s voice wavered. “What would happen to Lily if her dad died?”

  Oh God, oh God. All the questions she’d asked herself a million times, uttered aloud in her daughter’s high, young voice.

  Swallowing hard, Helen said, “She has an aunt and uncle. She and Devlin would live with them.” Before Ginny could say another word, Helen kissed her again and stood. “Now, go to sleep. You have school tomorrow.”

  Ginny let her get almost to the door. “I’m sorry you’re so sad, Mommy.”

  Helen paused, nodded and escaped.

  In the bathroom, with hot water running into the tub and steam filling the small space, there was no one to know she was crying. Ignoring her tears, she poured bubble bath under the stream of water, undressed and climbed into the tub. Blessed heat enveloped her and she slid low, the sweet scent of raspberries mixing with the salt of her tears on her lips.

  What if he does die, and you never know?

  Her face convulsed. Inside, she cried, I can’t watch him die! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t! Don’t ask me to. Please don’t ask me.

  What if he had a heart attack tonight? Tomorrow? Next week? Helen imagined his children having to cope, sitting in the hospital waiting room, their father lying, face gray, on a narrow bed in the cardiac care unit, oxygen hissing and the ragged line of his heartbeat hobbling across a monitor. What if they couldn’t reach their aunt or uncle right away, and were alone?

  She had grown fond of them. Of the tall, gawky girl who wanted to be a teenager but wasn’t quite yet, who’d been kind to Ginny and welcoming to the woman her father brought home. Oddly, however, it was Devlin who twisted her heart. He was in such turmoil already. How could he possibly deal with losing his father, too? Especially if they never cleared the air, if he had to live with the memory of how hatefully he had shoved his dad away?

  Or was she misreading him? What he’d done yesterday was cruel. He must have seen in their faces that something had changed after they rode the Ferris wheel. He’d been afraid that Alec had asked her to marry him. Either he detested her, or he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone replacing his mother.

  But, with an intensity that burned through her, Helen was glad he had spoken up. What if she’d already married Alec when she found out he had a damaged heart? What would she have done then?

  She knew. She would have hated him, just as she hated him now. He had let her care, knowing…knowing…

  Helen couldn’t even finish the thought. Tears spurted afresh, clogging her nose, blurring her vision.

  How could he have done such a thing? She simply couldn’t believe he hadn’t once, in all the times they’d talked about hospitals and illness and death, thought, Gosh, I should mention my heart attack. He’d let her believe he was a fit, athletic man without a thing wrong with him.

  Bitterness and grief swelling her own heart until it felt it might burst, she remembered telling herself blithely that lightning wouldn’t strike twice. She’d been a fool. Such a fool!

  She had really believed he loved her, but he couldn’t have, or he wouldn’t have lied. Not about the one thing he knew mattered so much to her. How had he justified it to himself? Had he thought, She’d ask if she reall
y wanted to know?

  What if she had?

  Her inner voice suggested, You could have asked for a bill of health. As if he were a horse you were buying.

  Helen sat up so suddenly water splashed over the rim of the tub. Agitated, she pulled the drain, let a few inches out, then pushed the plug back in and turned on the hot water again.

  It wasn’t that! she argued. She wouldn’t have cared if he had a gimpy knee or an ugly scar or…or asthma. She just couldn’t watch him die.

  Doctors do clear arteries, close holes in the heart, mend valves, her voice reminded her. A heart attack didn’t mean he was going to drop dead in the next five years. Any more than a diagnosis of cancer was a death sentence. Just because Ben died…

  But he did. He did. And Alec had had a heart attack. Not just chest pains. His heart must have been damaged, at least a little, however he denied it.

  What hurt so dreadfully was that, with the way things had ended, she felt as if he had died. One minute they’d been spinning on the Ferris wheel, colored lights sparkling as other rides whirled, the night air cool, his voice husky.

  Helen Schaefer, will you marry me? I love you.

  Inside, she had been crying, Yes! Yes! Her caution had been hard-won. But still, she’d known that she would say yes, once she had…oh, convinced herself that she’d thought it through and made a sensible decision, that love weighed more heavily on the scales than risk.

  Then, still dizzy from the ride and the kiss and the amazing, extraordinary knowledge that she had been wrong and she could love again, the wheel spun one more time and the dreams were torn away like lace from a wedding veil.

  It couldn’t have been any more stunning if he’d had a heart attack and been whisked off in an ambulance. If, between one heartbeat and the next, he’d died, exposing all her careful reasoning for the tower of justifications it had really been.

  Love versus risk. When she stopped cheating, the risk side sank as if it carried a lump of lead, the love nothing but a mound of airy feathers, pretty but insubstantial without lies to weigh them down.

  Letting the water drain from the tub, Helen stood and toweled off, wrapping her wet hair.