A Risk Worth Taking

by Zana Bell

  “Yeah, it’s nice to get out.” Adam grabbed a branch above his head and swung himself up off the ladder into the tree. “This jasmine is a bitch. The limbs are riddled with it.”

  “I know. It’s amazing to see such a pretty plant become such a darn menace. You can see the poor bushes over there that it’s already killed. Still, there’s something very cathartic in getting rid of it.”

  “Another topic for your blog?” Adam asked, teasing.

  Startled, she laughed. “Why, yes, that’s exactly what I was thinking, as a matter of fact.”

  He paused and glanced down. “You write well, Mom.”

  Alicia was surprised at how much his words meant. “Thank you, Adam.”

  She tugged, another heavy weight of jasmine came away in her hand and she smiled. Some things didn’t need words.

  They continued to work in silence for a bit.

  Freeing the shrubs was one thing, she discovered; trying to dig the jasmine with its wickedly effective root system, out of the ground, was quite another. Which was another nice metaphor—one, she thought, that might help Cressa.

  Adam had climbed higher, and it was hard to see him when she looked up. The sun was right in her eyes. His voice floated down. “Mom, you know the stuff I’ve been doing?”

  The snippers in her hand stilled. “Yes.”

  “It’s study. I’m studying.”

  “Oh? What for?” She was pleased to hit the right note of casual interest, and began clipping again.

  “I’m hoping to get into medical school next year.”

  “You what?” Shocked, she snipped the tip of her garden glove right off and gave a little shriek.

  “Mom, are you okay?”

  No blood. Whew. She glanced up to see Adam peering at her through a cloud of greenery, his face upside down.

  “Fine. Your news caught me off guard, that’s all. But Adam, honey, you need a degree first.”

  He grinned. “Mom, I’ve got a degree. I’ve been shut up in my room studying for my MCAT. I’m hoping to get into medical school now.”

  “Are you serious?” she said slowly. “A doctor?”

  “Yes.” He added, with all the resolution of a man making a deathbed confession, “Eventually, I plan to be a surgeon.”

  Then he pulled himself upright, and she heard rustling as he went back to chopping jasmine as though the topic was over and done with. In his dreams!

  “Adam Walker. You come down out of that tree this instant.”

  Any other time, she’d have enjoyed watching him, lithe and athletic, swing through the branches and drop the last ten feet to land lightly on the grass. He smiled again, intending, no doubt, to be placatory, but he was no fool and she saw the way his eyelashes swept down. Another gesture he used to do when she’d caught him at some new piece of mischief.

  Waving the pruning shears under his nose, she said, “Would you kindly explain?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been doing part-time study since I got out of hospital.”

  “You’ve been working on a degree all this time?” He smiled again. The smile drove her over the edge. “All these years!” she repeated, her voice rising as anger began smoldering deep inside her. “Do you have any idea what you’ve been putting me through? I can’t believe you did this to me!”

  And she punched him on the arm. It was the first time she’d ever raised a hand to one of her children. Fortunately, the pruning shears were in her other hand. Her fist pinged off his biceps.

  He reared back. “Whoa, Mom. Physical violence. What the hell? I thought you’d be pleased. Some parents give their kids cars when they graduate.”

  “Pleased? I can’t decide whether to hug you or throttle you.”

  Only a child could tilt your world like this in just a few seconds. She needed a drink.

  He held both hands out low, as if calming a rabid dog. “Settle, Mom. Just settle.”

  “All these years I’ve been worrying about you becoming more isolated, more secretive. I was terrified you were up to something dreadful, that you’d lost your way. And here you were doing something marvelous. Why on earth has it taken you this long to tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  She cast eyes and hands heavenward. “I’m a parent. Worry is part of the job description. It would be nice to know, however, what it is I should be worrying about. You cannot imagine how wild some of my fears for you have been: Drugs! Gambling! Business deals gone bad. When all I needed to be worrying about was whether you’d fall to your death every time you went to work or whether you’d fail an assignment.”

  He had the temerity to grin as he led her over to the garden bench nearby. They sat side by side. “Sorry to disappoint. Cressa had the same feeling of being let down when she heard I wasn’t up to nefarious doings.”

  That hurt. “Cressa knows?”

  He rubbed his knuckles with the palm of his other hand, realizing he’d put his foot in it again. “Yeah, I had to tell her. It felt as though things were getting dishonest.”

  “Didn’t it feel that way with me?” Alicia managed not to make the question sound too plaintive.

  “I thought, seeing as we don’t talk that much—” he gave her another sideways, under-the-lashes glance “—least said and all that.”

  She was feeling shaky, the craving for a margarita very strong. She ought to be thrilled. She was! But the weight of her failure sat heavy on her shoulders. That Adam might not trust her with bad news was one thing, but to shut her out of good news, too…

  “Why?” she asked. “Why couldn’t you just say it? Especially over these past few months. It might have helped so much.”

  “Yeah? I wasn’t sure.” His forearms rested on his thighs and he stared at his hands, clasped between his knees. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up. Didn’t want you to be disappointed if I fail.”

  His reluctance to say the words, his awkwardness, alerted her.

  “Did you think I’d crumble, start drinking again if you did?” He stayed silent. “Oh, my God, you did.”

  What little faith he’d had in her. It was her fault that he didn’t. But it was worse than that. Slowly, inexorably, the realization dawned on her. She was jasmine. Her love and her fears had been the jasmine in her son’s life. Small wonder he’d stayed away these later years. She had smothered him, nearly killed their relationship. The craving for alcohol was very, very strong.

  Then she lifted her head, saw the bush she’d been working on. All the jasmine had been ripped off it, and though the plant was misshapen, with some love and judicious pruning it would be fine in a year or two. The miracle of nature was regeneration.

  “Oh, Adam.” She looped an arm over his strong shoulders. “I’d like to promise that I’m not going to start drinking again, but I don’t dare. However, I can promise you that if I do, it will be entirely my own fault and have nothing to do with you. You are not responsible for my actions. Understand?”

  He hesitated, but then turned and looked at her, straight at her. “Okay. And understand, if you start again, I’ll be there for you again.”

  “That,” she said frankly, “is such an awful prospect that I don’t ever intend to slide back. You should be leading your own life, not worrying about mine. Besides, you’ll be far too busy studying to worry about any of my dramas.”

  “If I pass.”

  “You will.”

  “You don’t know that, Mom.” His voice was low.

  He was right. Her words had no meaning. So often encouragement was born not out of knowledge or understanding but out of well-meaning ignorance. She had no idea what chance he stood. “It’s true,” she said. “I don’t. I don’t even know if I’ll manage to stay off the booze. We can only give things our best shot. That’s all one can do in life.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  WHEN CRESSA’S MOTORBIKE pulled up, Adam was at the door to greet her. She leaped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and her hands around his neck. “Ad
am! It’s been the most incredible day.”

  She felt so good. He kissed her on the nose. “Tell me about it! I’ve felt amazing all day.”

  “Oh, yeah. That, too. But wait till you hear. I’ve got my dream job and it’s all thanks to you.” She pulled his face close and crushed his mouth under hers.

  He stepped back and sat down heavily on one of the chairs, with Cressa in his lap. “A job? That’s fantastic.” He felt a little dazed. “And because of me?”

  “Do you remember asking me why I wasn’t following my dreams?”

  “Sort of. You’d put a lot of whiskey into my drink. It was probably a stupid thing to ask.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” She looked earnestly into his face. Today her eyes were more gray than green. “You were right. I did need to be proactive. So I found this job on the ’net.”

  “The perfect job?” He wondered if his voice sounded as hollow as he felt. “But you didn’t say anything about it.”

  “I didn’t want to jinx it. You of all people should understand.” She leaned back, fingers laced behind his neck, her voice teasing. “What? You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” He tried to sound enthusiastic. “So, tell me about it.”

  “She’s a beautiful old boat—the Maria Louisa, ninety feet, three masts, over a hundred-years-old. I’ve just spent the day on her. She was in that TV series Pirates some years back. You didn’t see it? It was one of my favorites when I was a teenager. Now she’s a charter boat and cruises around the world. This year is the Pacific. Later, they’ll probably take her up to the Arctic Circle for the summer. Sailors kill to work on her, but they’ve given me a position as crew. Said I’d fit right in! We set sail on the ninth. Isn’t that just amazing?”

  The same day as his MCAT.

  “That’s amazing, all right.”

  “You should meet the captain. He’s a yachting legend. He’s done the Whitbread Round the World four times. I’m just going to learn so much, working with him. And it’s all because of you! I have you to thank for it! You and Alicia. She also said something that really shot home and made me think.”

  Thanks, Mom! Way to go.

  Cressa squeezed him to death, plastering kisses all over his face. Then she broke off, eyes sparkling.

  “Oh, and another surprise.”

  He struggled not to wince. “Really?”

  “Yes, except I don’t know what it is, either. I went to visit Mum and she says we have to be down in Auckland on Thursday. She’s arranged a birthday treat for me. Crafty old bird checked that I’m not required on set. She says we need smart clothes. I wonder if Alicia would like to go shopping with me. She’s been dropping some broad hints about wanting to see me in something more feminine.”

  “‘Smart clothes’?” said Adam. Then, “‘We’?”

  Cressa grinned. “I told her we’re an item, so you’d be coming.”

  “I’ll bet that thrilled her.”

  “Cut the sarcasm.” Cressa leaned forward, and this time gave him a kiss that sped up his heart and slowed time. When she pulled away, he felt light-headed. “She said that was fine.”

  Adam knew then that Deirdre had sounded less than enthusiastic. He wrapped his arms around Cressa and drew her back in for another kiss, this time sliding his hand up under her top to find warm, firm flesh.

  She gave a happy sigh. “I can’t wait to show you off.”

  He loved the weight of her pressed into his hips. Loved the brush of her hair against his hands. Loved her Texas-sage eyes, her kissable mouth, her indomitable nose.

  Her indomitable spirit.

  Despite having been hit over the head twice with the worst possible news, he couldn’t help smiling. “Your birthday, huh? You didn’t tell me. I haven’t bought you a present.”

  “Hmm.” She tipped her head to one side. “Then you’ll just have to be my love slave for a week.”

  “Hey, it’s not my birthday.” She laughed and he added casually, “I guess the whole family will be there? Brian, too?”

  “Yes, of course. It’ll be great to see them all again.”

  A whole evening with Deirdre and Brian.

  “You know, it might be best if I didn’t come. I don’t want to cause problems.” Then, even though it hurt, he added, “It’s not like we’re a long-term thing.”

  Cressa pulled his head toward her and kissed him deep and slow, a kiss that burned away all thought—at least for the moment. “Stoopid,” she said when they broke off. “If we’ve only got a short time, then we have to make every moment count.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” he said as he carried her off to the bedroom.

  ON THURSDAY NIGHT in Auckland he realized he should have known he wouldn’t like any surprise Deirdre had organized. He took another slug of champagne. He needed it to get through the long hours that stretched in front of him. Opera! He looked around the foyer of the Aotea Center. It was jam-packed with excited theatergoers standing in groups, sipping from glasses, laughing, sharing anecdotes about people and places he’d never heard of.

  “The Pearl Fishers!” Cressa exclaimed for about the fifteenth time. “I can’t believe it! I’ve always wanted to see it.” Adam had never even heard of it. She gave her mother a squeeze. “You are brilliant, Mum.”

  They made a striking picture, Deirdre in dark green, Cressa in the flame-red sheath she’d bought that morning. Alicia had gone shopping with her and Cressa had returned full of misgivings, saying she’d never worn a dress like it before. When she’d put it on, though, she must have read his thoughts, because she blushed and shut up in the most un-Cressa way. The dress was asymmetrical, with a diamante buckle holding the single shoulder strap up. Adam was looking forward to undoing it. Looking forward to— Ah, no! Get a grip. No such thoughts. Not here. Not in front of her mother.

  He’d never noticed a resemblance between Deirdre and Cressa, but as they beamed at each other, he saw that Cressa’s wide smile, her pouty lower lip, came from Deirdre. The observation was unsettlingly intimate, almost as though he’d kissed this woman who chatted graciously and froze him out so successfully.

  Cressa slipped her arm through his and smiled up. “There’s this aria that I’ve loved since I was a kid. I’ve been dying to see this opera my whole life.”

  His whole life he’d never dreamed of going to an opera. His smile was stiff, but damned if he was going to spoil this night for Cressa. “Yeah, that’s really something.” He glanced at Deirdre, feeling her gaze upon him. He wished George, who’d been swept away to another group, would return. He liked the guy, and what’s more, George seemed to like him. But then, George liked everyone.

  “Cressa!” Desdemona’s voice carried over the chatter as she bounded up to wrap her sister in a huge hug. “Happy birthday. Oh, my, is that a dress you’re wearing? You look like a girl.”

  Cressa hugged her back. “Is that a dress you’re almost wearing?”

  Des looked stunning in a shimmering gold number—what there was of it. It was very short and had hardly any back to it, just enough to cover her cute little ass. Deirdre closed her eyes in horror, but the men all around appreciated it. Then Des threw her arms around him. “Adam. I’m so glad you came.”

  Her delight was genuine, but it seemed out of proportion.

  Suddenly, they were all there, the sisters and Juliet’s husband, Mike, with lots of greetings and hugs and excited chatter. One big, happy family. Adam stood on the edge, his smile growing more and more fixed. Not that they were excluding him. All the sisters had kissed him, and Mike had shaken his hand with a firm grasp and a friendly face. Everyone asked him about his work on the film, and how his mother was. It was Adam’s fault he felt awkward. They couldn’t have been nicer. Their very niceness made him feel all the more alienated.

  He was relieved when the bell rang and they made their way to their seats. As he entered the theater, though, he realized the night had just gotten a whole lot longer.

  It
turned out there was a lot to enjoy. The costumes were great and Adam enjoyed looking at the sets, seeing how they worked. The orchestra was cool. The singers were probably good as far as opera singers went. Cressa said they were magnificent. The story was okay, too. But if Cressa had been hoping for a scene out of Pretty Woman, he couldn’t oblige. Opera didn’t speak to his soul. Maybe he didn’t have one. The soprano was meant to be dazzling, but when she did her solo, the top notes did bad things to his fillings. Still, it could have been worse. It could have been ballet. And at intermission, he could have another glass of champagne.

  Intermission, however, proved even more painful. As they came back into the foyer, Brian pounced. “Cressa, happy birthday.”

  He pressed a small box into her hand. She opened it and exclaimed, “Oh, Brian, it’s beautiful.”

  It was a pendant made out of some green stone.

  “Look, Adam.” She held it up for him to see. “It’s made from pounamu. This is a koru.”

  “It symbolizes new beginnings,” said Brian. “Peace and harmony.” He smiled at her. “I got Wirimu to carve it especially for you.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Wirimu? Oh, Brian, you know how much I’ve always wanted one of his. Thank you.” Putting her hand on his arm, she leaned up to kiss his cheek. She had the casual intimacy of a woman treating a man’s body as an extension of her own, and Adam took another swig of champagne.

  “My pleasure,” said Brian, looking into her eyes. He knew the secrets of Cressa’s body far better than Adam did.

  “Hey, Brian,” said Desdemona, “your tie’s crooked.”

  She moved forward to straighten it, and the moment was broken just as their party was engulfed. It turned out Auckland wasn’t a city—it was a village. And every person in the whole theater seemed to know Cressa. She was besieged on all sides, laughing, exclaiming, answering a million questions of “Where have you been?” and “Why haven’t we seen you around for so long?”

  Of course she introduced Adam to everyone and kept her arm entwined through his, but his face grew sore with grinning. He felt more like an accessory than a person. Brian was a couple of paces away, but somehow he was far more Cressa’s escort than Adam was. Brian knew everyone, too, and chatted easily.