My Name is Nell

by Laura Abbot

  All her mother’s lovey-dovey reassurances about becoming a woman were nothing but a crock. She buried her head in her hands.

  No way had her period started at Brady Logan’s.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BRADY WAITED, uncomfortably aware that several minutes had passed. He hoped to God nothing was wrong. The poor kid. It took guts to come here and assume the blame for what had gone wrong with his and Nell’s relationship. Abby must really be worried about her mother. The urgency in her voice as she appealed to him made him feel like a cad. Yet Nell wasn’t the one wronged. He was.

  He swallowed the last of his coffee. It was already cool. He glanced at his watch. How long had Abby been in the bathroom anyway? She didn’t wear much makeup, so odds were she wasn’t spending all this time primping.

  Maybe she was sick. He stood and paced around the room. He should probably check on her. Make sure she was all right. He walked down the hall and paused outside the bathroom door, listening. Nothing.

  Then he heard a sound, like a muffled giggle—or sob. A sense of impending dread filled him. He rapped on the door. “Abby, are you okay?”

  The silence was pregnant. Then in a small voice he heard her say, “No.”

  “Are you sick? What do you need?” He was in way over his head here. He remembered taking care of Nicole when she was tiny, but as she grew older, Brooke was always the one who dealt with illness.

  “I’m not sick.”

  “Did I say something to upset you?”

  “No. Could you, uh, could you call my mother? Ask her to come get me?”

  “I could take you home, honey.”

  “No!” Her reaction was sharp and immediate.

  It was then he knew. Girl stuff. He closed his eyes, remembering Brooke’s recounting to him her mother-daughter talk with Nicole. Nicole had thought becoming a woman sounded “icky,” but she could see it might be worth it if someday you could have a baby. He shut down the memory and spoke encouragingly through the door. “It’s all right. I’ll call your mother. I’ll be right back.”

  He didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to hear Nell’s voice again. Didn’t want the interaction that must follow. He needed their connection severed cleanly. But like everything else in Abby’s life, this wasn’t her fault either. He picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number.

  Their conversation was mercifully businesslike. Holding his emotions in check, he explained the reason Abby had come on her own to see him. Before Nell had time to react, he went on to tell her he suspected Abby had started her period and that she needed her mother. Nell told him this was Abby’s first time and promised to come right over.

  He set down the phone, feeling totally at sea. What could he do for Abby? If she were Nicole, what would he have done? Said? Finally he went back down the hall and hunkered outside the door. “Abby?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Your mother’s on her way. You’re sure you’re all right till she gets here?”

  Abby’s voice sounded forlorn. “Yes.”

  He’d never been female, of course, but it was likely the kid was scared to death. Probably no amount of sex education could prepare an adolescent girl for this moment.

  “Good. I’m going to stay right here with you until she comes.” When she didn’t answer, he started talking, saying anything he could think of to soothe her. “I believe I know what’s happened to you today, and it’s the most natural thing in the world, although I can imagine it’s a bit scary, too. If you were Nicole, that was my daughter’s name,” he explained, “I’d be so proud and yet I’d feel kind of sorry for myself at the same time because it would mean my girl had begun to grow up. That’s an awesome realization for a father. We dads think we’re the only ones who can protect and care for our daughters. And next thing you know, some guy’s come along and married our little girl.”

  “Could you, I mean would you, tell me about her? Nicole?”

  He rocked back and sat on the floor, his head in his hands. He had to clear his throat twice before he could begin. “You remind me of her. She had long blond hair like yours, but her eyes were brown, like pancake syrup. She enjoyed swimming and boating. Best of all, she loved horseback riding.” A momentary image stabbed him. Nicole clearing her first jump in a horse show, the grin that creased her face even as she concentrated on the next barrier.

  “Did she have her own horse?”

  “Sure did. Belle was a honey of a chestnut mare.”

  “I’ve never been horseback riding.”

  He started to say they’d have to do something about that, then checked himself. He was merely getting Abby through these next few moments. After that, he’d never see her again. “It’s a lot of fun. Nicole was just beginning to like boys, too. Do you have a boyfriend?” He knew she did, but figured he needed to get her mind off her problem.

  “Kinda.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Alan. He plays football.” She hesitated. “I’m going with him to the school dance tomorrow night.”

  “Well, he must be a bright young man to choose you.”

  She stammered, “I…I, uh, thanks, Mr. Logan.”

  “Brady,” he corrected. “Are you feeling better?”

  “A little. I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Please don’t be. I feel kind of privileged to be here with you. I was robbed of that opportunity with my own daughter. It feels right to be celebrating this milestone with you.”

  “Really?” Her voice seemed stronger.

  “You bet. I like you, Abby. If Nicole had lived and you two had met, I think you would have been friends.” He hesitated, debating his next words. “You know, I used to resent you.”

  “You did?”

  “You reminded me so much of Nicole I couldn’t stand the pain. But I was wrong. Instead of bad times, you remind me of good times with her and of new things she and I might have shared.”

  “I’m glad,” she said softly just as he heard a knock on the door.

  “I think your mother’s here.”

  “Good.”

  He had just risen to his feet when he thought he heard her speak again. “Did you say something, Abby?”

  “Yes. I’ve been so scared, but you talking to me really helped. Thanks for understanding.”

  Hell. His eyes grew filmy. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose. The girl had touched a chord no one had reached since Nicole. Nell should be very proud of her daughter. She was quite a young lady.

  He grinned crookedly. Given today’s events, that described her exactly.

  ARRIVING AT THE CONDO, Nell had greeted Brady with cursory thanks, attended to Abby, then whisked her out to her car. Brady had offered to follow in his SUV with Abby’s bicycle.

  But he wasn’t in any hurry now as he approached Nell’s street. He didn’t want to be sucked into this family event. Didn’t want to endure the torture of looking at Nell with his newly opened eyes. An alcoholic. Worse yet, one who had nearly killed her daughter. Well, he hoped she knew how damn lucky she was.

  Something about Abby had touched deeply buried paternal feelings. She’d had her share of loss along the way, too. Considering her parents’ divorce, her father’s remarriage and Nell’s drinking, the kid was actually pretty well adjusted. Helpless to make things right for her today, he’d felt sorry for her and disappointed in himself. She’d been so sincere in her defense of her mother. So vulnerable in her distress and embarrassment. Before she left with Nell, he’d had to fight the impulse to gather the girl in a fatherly embrace. How funny. Now that he could accept Abby, a relationship with Nell had become unthinkable.

  He pulled into Nell’s driveway. He’d given them a half-hour head start, figuring they needed a little mother-daughter time. He turned off the ignition, went to the back of the vehicle and extricated the bicycle, carrying it into the garage, which Nell had left open, probably for that purpose.

  He could leave now. Let it be over. But maybe he owed Nell a
further explanation of Abby’s visit. He didn’t want the girl getting into trouble. Not on his account.

  Reluctantly, he strolled to the front door and knocked.

  “Come in,” Nell said when she answered the door. “I guess we need to talk about this.” She started toward the family room.

  He trailed behind her, wishing he were anywhere else but here. “How is she?”

  She shrugged, then gestured for him to sit on the sofa. “Embarrassed, excited, scared.”

  He took the indicated seat and watched as she deliberately moved to the other side of the room. Silhouetted against the last light of the setting sun, Nell, perched on the edge of the rocker, sat in shadow. Her cheekbones stood in sharp relief, accentuating dark smudges under her eyes. She wore a pink boat-necked sweater that revealed her collarbone, rigid beneath her soft, pale skin. Brady was having a hard time remembering what she was to him. “Abby’s not in trouble?” he finally asked.

  “She was too upset about starting her period at your place, although she said you were very understanding. I decided there would be time later to talk about why she came to see you.”

  “She feels responsible, Nell.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She thinks if she hadn’t assumed I knew your history, that everything would be all right between us. She was trying to fix our relationship.”

  Nell rubbed the arms of the rocker with her palms, then sighed, a forlorn sound that stabbed Brady in the gut. “No chance of that, I guess.”

  He forced himself to think about Brooke and Nicole and the agent of their deaths. “No. How could I ever trust you?”

  She looked stricken. “You couldn’t unless you could forgive not only me, but others who have wronged you.”

  He stood. “Well, you can forget that.”

  She raised her eyes. “How far back does your bitterness go, Brady? Isn’t it hard to keep slamming doors on people just because they’re human and they’ve failed you?”

  A blood vessel in his temple throbbed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “There’s got to be a reason you won’t talk about your upbringing. Your family.”

  “Look, how many times do I have to tell you? That is none of your business.”

  “Maybe not. But since it no longer matters what I say, I’d like to suggest you can’t control the world, especially one in which other people occasionally make a mistake.”

  “Mistake? Is that what you call nearly killing your daughter?”

  Nell, face aflame, rose to her feet. “Don’t you think I relive that horror every day of my life? That I haven’t spent years acknowledging that fact and attempting to make amends? At least I don’t try going it alone in this world.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Brady, believe it or not, you’re not in charge. I’m not in charge. There is a higher power in our lives. When we accept that reality, troubles don’t disappear, but life can become more bearable.”

  If she wasn’t a woman, he’d have decked her. He could remember few times he had been so angry. “How dare you spout that AA crap to me?”

  “At this point, I have nothing to lose with you. And what I see is this. You, my friend, are every bit as addicted as I am.”

  “The hell you say. I’m not the one who solves my problems by swilling down booze like it’s water.”

  She clutched herself around the waist, as if restraining herself within some emotional boundary. “No. You solve problems by running away. First from your home and family in Colorado. Then from California. Now, from me.” She moved a step closer, her eyes glittering with tears. “Oh, yes. You’re addicted. To anger and resentment and guilt.”

  She stopped to catch her breath, then went on. “You can make fun of AA if you want to, but living those Twelve Steps has saved me and, pray God, will continue to save me. You know, you just might try them yourself.”

  “Slim chance of that.”

  “What’s the worst thing that could happen? Would it be so terrible to admit to God and someone else the nature of your wrongs? To ask God to help? To make amends to those you’ve hurt?” She paused, her tone softening. “To find peace through a spiritual awakening? That’s what the Twelve Steps are about, and, trust me, they’ll work for you, too.”

  Brady had stood there throughout her lecture, jaws aching from gritting his teeth in anger and denial. Now he loomed over her. “Are you quite finished?”

  “Yes, I believe I am. Except for one thing.”

  He made a mocking out-with-it gesture. “Well, please give me the benefit of the entire spiel.”

  She laid one small hand on his chest and looked up at him with brimming eyes. Her whisper was barely audible. “I love you, Brady.”

  He stared at her, his facial muscles paralyzed. What a cheap shot. “Sorry, Nell, you can lay that on me if you want, but no way am I going to assume that guilt on top of all the others you accuse me of.” He moved toward the door. “Tell Abby she’s a beautiful young woman.” He grasped the doorknob, then let go of it to face her one final time. His tone was steely. “Goodbye, Nell.”

  At his car, he braced himself against the cool metal of the driver’s door and sucked in deep breaths of air. He couldn’t believe it. By accusing him was she trying to justify her own actions? And what was that last bit about? I love you, Brady.

  He seethed. Too damn bad, lady.

  He climbed in the SUV and started toward home, furious with her and with his stupid eyes that insisted on watering. Lady. He laughed derisively. Oh, yeah. Lady. His rainbow lady, who believed in miracles.

  Well, Nell could continue to dwell in fantasy land if she chose, but he was totally out of miracles. Love was nothing more than an illusion. No steps, not twelve or twelve hundred, could fix that.

  THE DEFINITIVE CLICK of the door shutting behind Brady reminded Nell of the sound of a cork being pulled from a wine bottle. Leaning her back against the door, she rubbed her face with the palms of her hands. Please God. Don’t let me think like that. It was bad enough he’d walked out of her life, but why was wine—that deep, rich, mellow palliative—her first thought as an antidote for the hollow ache gnawing at her?

  Quaking with an onslaught of emotions, she walked back into the family room and sank onto the sofa, holding a pillow against her chest for comfort. He hadn’t blinked an eye when she’d told him she loved him. Why had she thought that would make a difference? Yet it was the truth. And for too long she’d withheld truths from him.

  The room, nearly dark now, matched her mood. He would never be able to accept her. Even if she remained sober the rest of her days. He was a hard man.

  A hurting man.

  Sinking her teeth into her fingers simply to experience a pain she could control, she tried to hold back the flood gathering in her throat. She’d said awful things. Hurtful things.

  A sob erupted. Then another. Finally she gave in and let the storm come. Her body shook with the force of her loss.

  All she wanted was to love him. He needed love so badly.

  But she was an alcoholic.

  Like a tide, all the old feelings of worthlessness and despair swept over her. She would never be good enough. Sober enough.

  Through her tears, she licked her lips, picturing the outlines of a fine bottle of wine, the contents beckoning her with cobralike charm. She pulled up her legs, gripping her knees, then rocked back and forth. Don’t do it. Don’t do it.

  Suddenly she heard Abby’s bedroom door open. Nell scrambled in her pocket for a tissue and quickly wiped her eyes.

  “Mom? Aren’t you late for your meeting?” Abby flipped on the lights.

  Nell blinked at the onslaught of brightness. The meeting. The nighttime women’s AA group she attended every week. The one she’d also missed last week. She was getting careless. Dizzy with fear, she set the pillow aside and looked up at her daughter. “Yes. I…I thought you might need me tonight.”

  “Mo-om. I’m okay. It’s not that big a d
eal. Like you said, I’ll get used to having periods. Anyway, you know how worried I’ve been. Like maybe I was a freak or something.”

  “Oh, honey, you’re not a freak.”

  “It was kinda weird, though, being at Brady’s.” Amazingly, her face lit up. “He told me to call him that. He’s really pretty cool, you know.”

  Nell didn’t trust herself to speak.

  “Did you guys get everything fixed up?”

  Nell felt as if all the air in her lungs had disappeared in a single whoosh. She patted the seat beside her. “Sit down.”

  Abby wrinkled her nose questioningly, but sat beside her mother. “I’m not gonna like this, am I?”

  “Probably not. For what it’s worth, honey, neither do I.” She tried to clear the frog in her throat. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing Brady anymore.”

  “But I thought if I told him how much you like him and everything…”

  “I appreciate what you tried to do. But it was too late. He can’t accept the fact that I’m an alcoholic.”

  Abby glowed with indignation. “But you’re not really.”

  Nell put her arm around her daughter and drew her close. “Oh, but I am, Abby. And you must never forget it. I have a disease, just like people who are victims of high blood pressure or tuberculosis. My body cannot tolerate alcohol. Not even one drink. How Brady chooses to react to that fact is his business.”

  Nell saw the pain in Abby’s eyes. “But, Mom, you love him, don’t you?”

  Nell kissed the top of her daughter’s head. Then after a few moments of silence, she said, “Yes, Abby, I do.”

  “So what’re you gonna do?”

  With a finality that turned her to stone, Nell said, “There’s nothing I can do.”

  Straightening so she could look squarely at her mother, Abby said, “You won’t start drinking again, will you?”

  Nell took a deep breath. “I won’t have a drink tonight.”

  “But that’s not good enough. What about the rest of the time?”

  “Tonight is as much as I can promise, Abby. You know how it goes. One day at a time.”