The Game of Denial

by Brenda Adcock

  "He was a difficult birth," Evey said. She ran her hands through her hair and slowly down her face. "She tried, but he was too tangled up. It...it was him or her. I didn't have a...choice."

  "You don't have to explain what happened to me, Evey. I know you loved Sheba. Any fool could see that." Without thinking Joan patted Evey on the shoulder and let her hand linger there as they re-entered the stall. Evey dug into the front pocket of her jeans, now encrusted with blood and afterbirth, and pulled out a cell phone. Her chin fell to her chest as she waited for an answer. "This is Evelyn Chase at Meadowbrook Farm. I need a van to remove a...a deceased horse." Joan watched as Evey nodded and grunted several times before flipping her cell closed. She glanced quickly up at Joan, her eyes filled with tears once more. The first tear rolled down her already stained cheek as Joan reached out and wrapped her in a comforting embrace.

  "I'm filthy," Evey protested and tried to pull away.

  Joan's eyes met Evey's. "It doesn't matter," she said and drew her closer once again. To her surprise Evey's arms wound tightly around her as deep sobs tore through her. Joan leaned back against the wall of the stall and held Evey, stroking her back and hair. She knew exactly how much it hurt to lose something--or someone-- you loved. Stray thoughts of Martine invaded her mind, bringing back the tears she thought she had finished shedding years before. The press of Evey's body against hers brought back the wondrous feel of her wife against her. She could hold Martine for hours and never tire of the feeling. The feel of her wife was permanently imprinted on her body and she knew she would never stop mourning her loss.

  Drowning in her feelings, Joan slowly ran a hand down Evey's side. She buried her face in Evey's hair and inhaled deeply. She whispered soothingly to the distraught woman. "I know it hurts to lose someone you love." She was surprised when she felt Evey's fingers dig into her back and press closer. Joan kissed the top of her head and kissed her temple as she whispered softly, "It's okay to grieve."

  She drew her head back slightly and watched the tears brimming in Evey's eyes fall onto her cheeks. "It's okay." She raised her hands to the sides of Evelyn's face and wiped the tears away with her thumbs as Evey continued to stare at her. They were so close.

  The vulnerability Joan saw in Evey's eyes stole her breath away. She felt Evey's hand slip up to the back of her neck and her lips parted as she lowered her head. It had been a long time since she had felt the warmth of another person this close to her. "Please," Evey murmured.

  Joan's breath caught in her throat. "You're overwrought, Evey. You should go to the house and lie down for a while." Gently she stepped away and cleared her throat.

  "I'm sorry," Evey said. "But--"

  "No, no. You're upset."

  "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Joan."

  "You didn't. Go rest. I'll wait for the van to pick up Sheba."

  Evey nodded briskly and left the stall. As soon as she was certain Evey was gone, Joan leaned back against the wall and covered her eyes with her hands. It would have been so simple, felt so natural to kiss Evey Chase. What the hell was she thinking? Evey had only been caught up in her grief over the loss of Sheba and would have hated her later for taking advantage of her distress. Joan leaned her head back and took a deep breath. We're having the wedding at Brad's family farm, Mom. It will be beautiful and quaint, Fran had said. Yeah, right! Joan thought. I came here for my daughter's wedding, not to get the groom's mother into bed. I have to stay as far away from Evelyn Chase as possible until this fiasco ends and I can return to my real life, someplace where I can feel in control again.

  EVEY PEELED OUT of her soiled jeans and t-shirt and stepped into a hot shower. She toweled off a few minutes later, turned back the covers on her bed, and climbed in naked. The coolness of the sheets on her body was soothing as she stared at the ceiling and breathed deeply to settle her emotions. Sheba was gone. She had lost dozens of animals over the years. It was just the way things were on a farm. It was no one's fault. It was obviously meant to be. She could handle the loss as usual, even though the loss of any animal bothered her.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Joan's scent still lingered in her memory. The shower hadn't been able to wash it away. What the hell was she thinking? And what had Joan thought? God! She'd felt so safe wrapped in Joan's arms. She hadn't felt that way, safe, in a very long time. If Joan hadn't stepped away, she knew she would have kissed her, filling her loneliness with the intimate touch of another person. She felt rejected, but not angry. Maybe Joan didn't find her attractive. The flutter in her stomach when she was around Joan scared her. It wasn't possible for her to find another woman attractive and desirable, was it? The distant memory of another woman's arms holding her affectionately drifted into her mind and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut to drive the memory away. She felt safe living far away from others. It was only her and the children and no other possible distractions. But nothing had ever been able to drive away the feel of soft lips brushing against her own.

  Chapter Eleven

  AFTER THE NEAR kiss in the barn, Joan was resolved to avoid any unnecessary proximity to Evey. There were only three days left before the wedding and she was confident she could get through three days standing on her head. But she wasn't prepared for Fran's plans for the next day. Joan hadn't made it through her first cup of coffee before Fran swept into the room and practically kidnapped Evey and Joan, insisting they accompany her to the home of Central Virginia University. Brad would be beginning his new position as an assistant professor in Comparative Literature less than three months after their wedding. She needed to locate a place for them to live and try to get settled in before the holidays began in November. She was desperate for help from her mother and mother-in-law. Brad had given her a reasonable budget based on his projected income and their combined savings and she had been in contact with a local realtor. Brad's only request had been a room for a home office and his myriad of books. The realtor had called the previous evening describing what she believed was exactly what the young couple was looking for and well within their budget.

  Not wanting to be trapped in Fran's compact vehicle with Evey, Joan tried unsuccessfully to convince Fran to take Charmaine instead. Evey thought Brad should be with her to make such a significant decision.

  "Charmaine is living on her cell phone dealing with a difficult client," Fran said. "Brad promised Chris they would do whatever guys do when they get together. Probably watch a game on the television and drink beer," she said. "And before you suggest it, Giselle is taming the kids, and Beth, well, she'd rather watch a game with the guys. We're not expecting any more guests until tomorrow. That only leaves Meg, and I don't know how helpful an eighteen-year-old would be. So get over it because you two are stuck with me," Fran finished and planted her fists on her hips.

  "Bossy little thing, aren't you?" Joan said as she brought her cup to her mouth. "Has Bradley seen this side of you yet?"

  "Oh yeah," Brad said as he passed through the kitchen to refill his cup. He carried it to stand next to his bride-to-be and kissed her on the cheek. He left the room, singing, with limited ability, the chorus to Kenny Rogers' "The Gambler," something about holdin' and foldin'.

  "I hate that song!" Fran called out.

  "I know!" Brad called back in a sing-song voice and laughed.

  "Looks like we're stuck," Evey sighed as she scooped the last spoonful of cereal into her mouth. She looked at Fran. "Can I change and brush my teeth before you kidnap us?"

  "I'll bring the car around to the front," Fran said.

  "I'm not going down alone," Joan said. She returned to her room and slipped into comfortable shoes for walking and grabbed her shoulder purse. She stopped at Meg's room and banged on the door with the side of her fist. When the door popped open, Meg stared at her mother. Joan pulled one of the earbuds out of Meg's ear and said, "Get some shoes on." She glanced down at the lime-colored flip-flops. "Real shoes."

  "Why?"

  "Because."

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sp; "Because why?"

  "Because I'm the mother and I said so. Meet us out front." Joan dropped the earbud and let it fall to Meg's chest.

  "Hey!"

  Joan pulled out the second earbud. "And no ear thingies."

  Meg wandered onto the front porch a few minutes later, blinking as if unaccustomed to daylight. Fran pulled her car to a stop near the front porch and left the engine running. She looked up at Meg and yelled, "Road trip!"

  "Shotgun!" Meg yelled back before she jumped off the porch and ran around to the front passenger seat.

  As Fran shifted the vehicle into reverse, Beth came out of the house and quickly descended the front steps, running to catch the car before it went any farther. She slapped her hand on the hood causing Fran to jump and slam on the brakes. Beth opened the back passenger door and slid in next to Evey, forcing her to slide closer to Joan.

  "I thought you were watching the game with Brad and Chris," Fran said, gazing in the rearview mirror.

  "That was the plan," Beth said. "But when the belching and farting festival began this trip became a whole lot more appealing."

  "If anyone else suddenly decides to join us we'll need a bigger car," Fran said as she began backing up once again.

  The three girls chatted non-stop for the next ninety minutes until they entered an old town filled with historical markers that indicated the importance of each building to either the region or the state. Fran drove through town and onto the campus of the university. She pointed out a relatively new looking building.

  "That's the English Building," she said. "Brad's office is in there somewhere. He has an appointment with the head of the department after we get back from our honeymoon."

  "It's a lovely campus," Evey said. "And so spread out."

  "If we can find a house close enough, Brad wants to ride his bicycle back and forth to work when the weather's nice enough."

  "God, it must be nice to be young," Joan said.

  "You could ride a bike to work, Mom," Meg said cheerfully.

  "If I had a death wish."

  Evey laughed and patted Joan on the leg, making Joan wish she hadn't done that. Squeezed in the back seat of the compact car Joan had been unable to avoid being touched, frequently, by Evey's arm. Adding to Joan's torture was Evey's tendency to touch her thigh to get her attention when she saw something of interest. Under normal circumstances Joan would have found the touches...inviting. "Um, what time are you supposed to meet the realtor," she asked to take her mind off the warm hand now resting on her thigh.

  "Before lunch. Then maybe we can locate someplace to snag some lunch before we head back."

  "Right now just getting out of this car and stretching my legs would be a gift," Joan said.

  "Sorry. I forgot. Long legs," Fran said.

  The five women wandered down the main street of Loganville and looked in the windows of a variety of stores. Meg seemed fascinated by how well the old buildings had been kept up and modernized over the years. The side streets were tree-lined and well shaded during the morning hours of early fall. The changing leaves provided an interesting backdrop of color for the old buildings around them. Meg pulled a digital camera from her shoulder bag and lagged behind the others to take several pictures.

  As Meg hurried to catch up, Joan waited for her. "How did your pictures turn out?" Joan asked.

  Meg held the viewer on the camera up and blocked the sunlight with her hand so Joan could see. "These are excellent photographs Meg. Crisp and each one almost tells a story."

  Meg beamed at her mother's praise. "I've taken lots of pictures around the farm," she said.

  "Is that where you go when you wander off?" Joan asked.

  "Yeah, not much else to do," Meg said.

  "Will you do me a favor? No, two favors."

  "Careful or you'll use up your favor quota for the month," Meg said.

  "Damn! Not already," Joan quipped back.

  "What favors do you need?"

  "Will you take pictures at the wedding and reception?"

  "They've already hired a professional photographer for that."

  "But they don't know us, as real people. I'd like something more candid and not taken by a drunken guest. Would you do that?"

  "Sure. I don't expect to be dancing much or anything. And the second favor?"

  "Would you show me the pictures you've taken at the farm when we get home?"

  "I've got a really good one of you riding."

  "You little sneak! Did you get one of me walking funny afterward?"

  "Of course!"

  Joan pushed Meg away playfully. Making Meg come along had been a good idea. She needed to spend more time with her youngest daughter and vowed to do so when they returned to New York.

  "Mom!" Fran called out.

  "We're coming!" Joan said.

  Chapter Twelve

  FOR THE SECOND night in a row, Joan was having difficulty getting to sleep. She was tired, but every time she closed her eyes sadness seemed to fill her mind and it refused to shut down. Maybe it was the anticipation of the wedding or her desire to be in her own home. She should have been exhausted by the time they returned from Loganville. Certainly after listening to Fran recount for Brad everything they had done and giving a detailed description of the lovely older cottage the realtor showed them. Joan had to admit that it was a picturesque and well-maintained cottage that had been built in the early nineteen hundreds. Then she dragged herself upstairs before midnight only to find Meg sitting in the middle of her bed, camera in hand, anxious to show Joan the pictures she had taken.

  She had looked carefully at Meg's photographs and commented on several of them. Her composition was excellent and Joan had to admit she was impressed. Finally alone, it was almost one-thirty in the morning before she stretched out on the down-filled bed. Irritated with herself, Joan threw the covers off and stepped into her slippers. She pulled her robe on and made her way downstairs in the dark. Gentle light from an almost full moon streamed in through the front windows, providing ample light to avoid bumping into furniture. She quietly opened the front door and made her way onto the porch. She sat down on the porch swing and plumped up a couple of pillows resting against the back and leaned against them. She draped one leg over the side of the swing and began to relax as the swing gently moved back and forth.

  She didn't know how long she had been semi-reclining when she heard the front door open. She sat up and watched a silhouette step onto the porch.

  "I couldn't sleep either," Evey's voice broke the quiet softly. "I made some chamomile tea. Sometimes it helps me when my mind won't shut down at night." Evey set a cup on the table next to the swing before making herself comfortable in a nearby rocking chair.

  Joan picked up the cup and could see wisps of steam rising from its contents. "Thanks. I don't usually have trouble falling asleep," Joan said before she took a sip of the hot liquid.

  "It was a very busy day. All the running around we did today makes it difficult to shut the brain down, I guess. Add that to all the excitement going on around here and anyone would have difficulty sleeping."

  "I suppose," Joan said. She cleared her throat before speaking again. "I...um...my mind seems to be suddenly flooded with memories."

  "About what? If you don't mind my asking."

  "The wedding I suppose. Don't take this the wrong way because we all love Brad, but it brings back the memory of Tucker's wedding. That was truly the best of times and the worst of times for all of us."

  Evey rocked quietly and drank her tea, waiting for Joan to continue.

  Joan took in a deep breath. "Tucker and Giselle were married almost eleven years ago and they were very young. Tuck just graduated from college and was preparing to go to law school. Right after graduation he announced he was getting married that summer so he and Giselle wouldn't be separated. We thought he should wait, but when he refused there wasn't much Martine and I could do about it. It was a very difficult time for us. Martine had been diagnosed with breast c
ancer a few months earlier. We tried to downplay the seriousness of her condition for the children for as long as possible, but it was obvious her condition was deteriorating. By the time the wedding date rolled around I wasn't sure she would be strong enough to even attend. But she was a very strong-willed woman and exceptionally brave. I don't think I have ever been prouder than when I escorted her down that aisle. The way she was breathing seemed more labored than usual and she gripped my hand tightly throughout the entire ceremony.

  "I tried to convince her to skip the reception afterward, but she insisted on going. She stood through the receiving line and when Tucker danced with her, the way she looked up at him and smiled with such love and pride nearly broke my heart."

  "When did she pass away?"

  "Three or four months later. I wish she could be here for Fran to see how beautiful she is now." Joan cleared her throat again and sipped her tea.

  "I'm sure she'll be watching over the ceremony."

  "If you believe in such things. I'm not sure I do any more."

  "You loved her very much."

  "More than anything," Joan said in a firm voice. She cleared her throat. "I'm concerned about seeing my mother again tomorrow. Maybe that's why I can't sleep. I'm not looking forward to it." She sensed Evey's unasked question. "Martine and our relationship were never accepted by my mother. When Martine passed away, she refused to attend the funeral. Only my brother came. That snub hurt me more deeply than anything ever has." She shook her head. "This will be the first time I've seen her since I lost Martine and I'm not sure I can get over that kind of total nonacceptance of who I am."

  "Perhaps she's mellowed since then," Evey said.

  "If she has she'll probably be more like old cheese than fine wine," Joan said.

  JOAN PACED RESTLESSLY around the house. She had gotten up much earlier than she wanted, before the sun rose over the surrounding hills and long before the morning shadows were cast across the peaceful setting around her. She hadn't slept well, despite the chamomile tea, and the result was a dark mood. Hoping to flush the thoughts from her head she ran farther and longer than usual, gasping for air by the time she returned to the porch of the farm house. It was the day she had been dreading since Fran announced her wedding date and place. Joan rested her hands on her knees and tried to fight off the feeling of nausea churning in her stomach. Take deep breaths. Try to think positively. Don't let personal issues cast a cloud over Fran's happiness. Grin and bear it. Act like an adult, not a simpering child. She shook her head. None of her mental pep talks were working. She longed for the feel of Martine's arms around her, her lilting accent murmuring in her ear. With Martine at her side, Joan knew she could do anything, face any adversary. But Martine was no longer at her side. She would be alone to face her mother.