“You’ll get over it. So will I. I don’t need another divorce, and you don’t need another headache. You have enough without me. Just tell the kids to relax, the moron is out of their lives. They can celebrate now.” He sounded bitter and angry and like a petulant child, but she couldn’t reach him.
“Jamie loves you, and so does Peter. What am I supposed to tell them?”
“That we made a mistake, and we realized it before it was too late. It’ll be a relief to them, and to us too one day. I’m going to hang up now, Liz. There’s nothing left to say. Good-bye.” He said it with such finality that it took her breath away, and he hung up before she could even answer.
She lay holding the receiver in the dark, and she was crying when she set it down. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. Just like that. He’d had “blinding” clarity and it was over. “Blinding” seemed to be the operative word here. And she wanted to shake him. But she wasn’t even angry at him, she was just devastated. And this time, when she cried herself to sleep that night, it was for Bill, and not her husband.
Chapter 11
Liz dragged herself through the next few days, after the Thanksgiving fiasco, and she didn’t say anything to anyone about Bill walking out on her after Thanksgiving, not even to Victoria when they spoke on the phone, and least of all to her mother, who would have had a lot to say about it. Her mother had told her beforehand that it was a mistake to invite him to Thanksgiving. And Liz had just thought she was jealous, because she hadn’t invited her to come out, although they had talked about her coming for Christmas.
But after Thanksgiving, Liz hadn’t looked as bad in months. She was sad and tired, and irritable with the children. At first, both Carole and Jean thought it was the agony of the upcoming holidays, and the memories they evoked. But it was Jean who finally understood what had happened. Bill had stopped calling.
“Did you two have a fight?” she asked gingerly, when Liz came back from court the week after Thanksgiving.
Liz looked up at her with a grim expression, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She had lost weight in the past few days, and she was sleeping even less than she had been. “He walked out on me. The kids treated him like shit at Thanksgiving, or at least Megan and Annie did. And it was too much for him. They were incredibly rude actually, but apparently that was all he needed to convince him that it was all a big mistake, and our romance was the result of temporary insanity. Two weeks ago, he asked me to marry him on Valentine’s Day. But we never made it through Thanksgiving.”
“Maybe he’s just panicked,” Jean said cautiously. She hadn’t seen Liz look that bad in months and it worried her. She seemed desperately unhappy, and it hadn’t gone well for her in court that day. She had lost the motion, which just seemed to add to her depression. But the real issue was Bill and not the motion. “He’ll be back, Liz. Let him calm down for a few days.”
“I don’t think so. I think he meant it.” And she was sure of it when she called him at the end of the week, and he didn’t return her call. And hating herself for it, she paged him. He called her back finally, after a few hours, and said he’d been tied up with an emergency, but his voice was distant and very chilly.
“I just wanted to see if you were okay,” she said, trying to sound light hearted, but he clearly had no interest in pursuing a conversation.
“I’m fine, Liz. Thanks for the call. Look, I’m sorry, but I’m busy.”
“Call me sometime.” She hated herself for sounding pathetic, but he was as direct as ever with her.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. We both need to lick our wounds and get over what happened.”
“What did happen?” she asked, pressing him, and it was obvious he didn’t like it.
“You know what happened. I came to my senses. I don’t fit into your family, Liz, and I don’t even want to try. You’re a great woman and I love you, but this will never work. Not for me at least. You need to find someone else when you and the kids get over losing Jack, and that could take a while.” But it wasn’t Jack she’d been thinking of for the past week, it was Bill. For the first time in eleven months, Jack seemed to be fading into the distance, and the pain Bill had inflicted on her as he left was far more acute, and more distressing.
“If we really love each other, we can work it out. Why don’t we try?”
“For one very good reason,” he said bluntly, “I don’t want to. I don’t want to be married, or have kids, particularly someone else’s kids who don’t want me. They made it pretty clear, and I got the message.”
“They’d adjust in time.” She was pleading with him, and wishing that she wouldn’t. It was humiliating but she didn’t care. She knew now how much she loved him. And it seemed to be too late now. He wouldn’t even give her a chance to try and work it out, and fix it.
“Maybe they’d adjust, Liz, but I wouldn’t. And what’s more, I don’t want to. Find yourself another guy.” It was a callous thing to say to her, but it delivered the message.
“I love you. That’s not a generic prescription, Doctor.”
“I can’t help you out,” he said coldly. “And I’ve got to get back to the ER I’ve got a five-year-old with a tracheotomy sitting there waiting for me. Merry Christmas, Liz.” He was brutal, and she wanted to hate him for it, but didn’t. She didn’t have the energy to hate him. She felt as though someone had pulled the plug on her on Thanksgiving night, and someone had. He had.
She went home that afternoon, feeling sad and beaten, and it didn’t help when Jamie looked up from the Christmas cookies he was making with Carole and asked her where Bill was. It was an interesting question. She didn’t know what to say to him. Gone? Finished? Over? He doesn’t like us anymore? It was hard to find the right answer for him.
“He’s … busy, Jamie. He doesn’t have time to see us right now.”
“Did he die?” Jamie asked with a worried expression. In his mind, people who disappeared like his father were probably dead now.
“No, he didn’t. But he doesn’t want to see us for a while.”
“Is he mad at me?”
“No, sweetheart. He isn’t.”
“He said he’d fly his kite with me, and he never did. The one he made himself.”
“Maybe you should ask Santa for one this year,” she said, feeling drained. There wasn’t much more she could say to him. Bill Webster had walked out of their life and there was nothing she could do about it. Even begging wouldn’t have brought him back, and she knew it. Not pleading or cajoling or reasoning or loving. She had tried everything she could think of that afternoon on the phone, and the one thing that was clear to her now was that he didn’t want her. There was no arguing with that. He had a right to make that decision.
“It won’t be the same if Santa brings me a kite,” Jamie said sadly. “Bill’s kite is special because he made it.”
“Maybe we can make one,” she said, fighting back tears. If she could train him for the running long jump, maybe she could learn how to make a kite. But what else was she supposed to do for them? How much did she have to learn? How many people did she have to be for everyone, because a lunatic had shot Jack, and Bill Webster had decided to walk out on her in a fit of panic? And why did she always have to pick up the pieces? She was haunted by the question.
Carole went to pick the girls up from school shortly afterwards, and as soon as they walked in, Jamie gave them the news his mother had shared with him. “Bill doesn’t want to see us anymore.”
“Good,” Megan said loudly, and then looked faintly guilty as she glanced at her mother. She could see that her mother looked very unhappy.
“That’s not a nice thing to say, Meg,” Liz said quietly, and she looked so sad that Megan said she was sorry.
“I just don’t like him,” she added.
“You hardly know him,” Liz said and Megan nodded, and the girls went upstairs to do their homework. They only had three more weeks of school before Christmas vacation.
But there was no holiday spirit in the house, and it broke Liz’s heart when she brought out the decorations.
She decided not to put lights on the outside of the house this year, or in the trees the way Jack always did. They just put up decorations inside the house, and two weeks before Christmas she took them to buy a Christmas tree, but no one’s heart was in it.
She hadn’t heard from Bill in two weeks by then, and she suspected she never would again. He had made his decision, and intended to stick by it. And she had finally admitted it to Victoria, who was devastated for her, and offered to take her to lunch, but Liz didn’t even want to see her.
And as Christmas approached, the entire house seemed to be weighed down, they were all sinking slowly into the mire of depression. It was nearly a year since Jack had died, and it suddenly felt as though it were yesterday. The children talked about him constantly. And Liz felt as though she were ricocheting between her agony over losing Bill and her memories of her late husband. She stayed in her room most of the time, and they didn’t entertain friends. She turned down all the invitations to Christmas parties. She even decided not to have her mother come out, and told her she wanted to be alone with her children, and although her mother had sounded hurt, she said she understood it. And she invited another widowed friend to come and stay with her.
The only things Liz and the children did to acknowledge the holiday were hang ornaments on the tree, and bake Christmas cookies, and all she did was pray that the holiday would soon be over.
She thought about taking them to ski between Christmas and New Year’s, but they weren’t in the mood for that, and they decided to stay home, as they all sank slowly into the quicksand of painful memories that engulfed them.
She was sitting at her desk in the office the week before Christmas when a client called, sounding breathless, and asked if she could come in to see her. Liz had some free time that afternoon, and made an appointment for her. And what she heard when the woman came in didn’t please her. The woman’s husband was endangering her six-year-old son, he had taken him on the back of his motorcycle on the freeway without a helmet, flew in a helicopter with him, although he’d only just gotten his license, and let him ride his bike to school, in heavy traffic, and again without a helmet. The client wanted Liz to take visitation away from him, and to further make the point, she wanted to go after his business. But as soon as she said it, it had a familiar ring to Liz, and she shook her head firmly.
“We’re not going to do that to him,” Liz said without a moment’s hesitation. “I’ll ask for mediation, and we’ll get them to work out a list of things that he can’t do with your son. But we’re not going to take him to court, and we’re not going after his business.” She said it so vehemently that the client looked at her with suspicion.
“Why not?” For a minute, she thought her husband had gotten to her.
“Because the price is too high,” Liz said simply. She had lost ten pounds in the last three weeks, and she looked tired and pale, but she looked so definite and so grim that the woman listened. “I had a case like that once before, not involving a child. But the only way to get the man’s attention was by freezing his assets and his business.”
“Did it work?” the woman asked hopefully, it sounded good to her, but not to Liz.
“No, it didn’t. He killed his wife, himself, and my husband last year on Christmas Day. If you hit your husband too hard, he may hurt you or your son. And I’m not going to be a party to that.” There was a long silence between them as the woman nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, so am I. Now here’s what we are going to do.” They made a list of dangerous activities that he wouldn’t be allowed to do, and Liz called the court-appointed mediator while the woman sat there. But the mediation office was swamped and the first appointment they could give her was on January eleventh. It was three and a half weeks away, and to help the situation along, Liz agreed to write him a letter of warning in the meantime.
“It won’t do anything,” the woman looked at Liz bleakly. “If you don’t hit him over the head with a hammer, he won’t get it.”
“If we do, maybe you or your son will,” Liz repeated. “And I know you don’t want that.” It was an impressive threat, and the woman left Liz’s office feeling helpless. But at least Liz felt she hadn’t jeopardized her client or her son when she went home that night, and the kids finally seemed in better spirits.
It had been the last day of school that day, and Carole had promised to take the four younger ones skating. Peter and his new girlfriend had a date for dinner and a movie. And Liz was looking forward to a quiet evening alone when the phone rang at nine-thirty. The voice on the other end was hysterical, and it took her a minute to recognize it. It was the client she had seen that afternoon, for whom she had scheduled the mediation. And to give her a sense of security, she had given her her home phone number. The woman’s name was Helene, and she sounded nearly incoherent.
“Helene, calm down, and try to tell me what happened.” It took more than five minutes to understand the story clearly. Her husband, Scott, had taken their son Justin joyriding on the hills in San Francisco on his motorcycle. She wasn’t sure if he’d been drunk or not, but it was a possibility, and the child hadn’t been wearing a helmet, when they were hit by a truck. Both of Justin’s legs were broken, and he had a head injury, although by some miracle he had landed in a patch of grass outside someone’s house. He was in pediatric intensive care at Children’s Hospital in San Francisco, and his father was in critical condition and still in a coma. The police had come to her house to tell her. The only comforting part of the story for Liz was that even if she’d agreed to take the son of a bitch to court, they wouldn’t have gotten there yet, and it wouldn’t have changed what had just happened. It wasn’t her fault, but whether or not it was, Helene’s little boy was in grave danger.
“Where are you now?” Liz asked as she stood up and reached for her handbag still sitting on the end of her bed.
“I’m at the ICU at Children’s.”
“Is someone with you?”
“No, I’m alone,” she sobbed into the phone. She was from New York, and wanted to move back, as soon as her husband would agree to let her.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Liz said, and hung up on her without waiting for an answer. She grabbed her coat on her way out the front door, glad that she had decided not to go skating with her children. She’d been feeling guilty about it, but she’d been so tired and depressed that she had opted not to.
She parked her car outside the hospital eighteen minutes later, and when she got to the ICU, she found Helene sobbing in the arms of a nurse. They had just taken Justin upstairs to put pins in both his legs, but the nurse said he was conscious and the head injury was nothing more than a bad concussion. The child, and his mother, had been very lucky. But sitting in the hospital with her, as they waited, reminded her of Bill again. She wondered how he was, and what he was doing. She knew there was no point thinking about it anymore, it had been more than three weeks now, and she knew he wasn’t going to call her. He had made up his mind, and stuck to it. Bill was that kind of person. And the terrors she and her family represented were just too much for him.
Justin came back from the operating room shortly after midnight. He was still sedated, and his legs were bandaged to the hip and he looked like a little rag doll as he lay there, but the doctor said he’d be as good as new eventually, and in six months or a year, they’d take the pins out.
Helene cried as she listened to him, but she was calmer than she’d been when Liz had arrived. They had talked for hours about what they were going to do. She had finally convinced Liz. They were going to court, and putting every restriction on her husband they could, and then Liz wanted her to go back to New York. Helene was young and had family there, and even an old boyfriend who’d been calling and was hinting about marriage. Liz wanted her out of town and as far from her ex-husband as she could get
her.
“And then,” she looked at Helene with a sad smile, as the child’s mother walked her to the elevator and thanked her for keeping her company all night. “And then, I’m going to retire,” Liz said, with a sigh of relief. It was all she wanted. She’d had it with family law, and she’d been thinking about it for months. This was all she’d needed to convince her. She’d thought about it again on the way to the hospital and she was sure now.
“What are you going to do instead?”
“Grow roses,” she laughed, “and clip coupons. No, actually, I’m going to do something I really want to do, and have for a long time. I’m going to be an advocate for children. I’m going to work out of my house, and close the office I shared with my husband. I’ve done it alone for the last year, and it just isn’t what I want.” She looked better than she had in weeks when she said it, and Helene thanked Liz again before she left.
“I’ll call you when I get a court date.” She smiled at her client as the elevator doors closed, and she knew as she walked to her car with a lighter step that she had made the right decision. She wondered if that was how Bill had felt when he called to tell her it was over. Maybe it was, she thought to herself. Maybe she had been as big a burden for him, and as wrong, as the practice she had shared with Jack had become for her once he was gone. If so, she had to respect Bill’s decision. But she had made hers that night, finally, as she sat holding Helene’s hand, wanting to kill her ex-husband for what he had done to Justin, out of pure wanton negligence and irresponsibility. Helene’s ex-husband was still in a coma when Liz left the hospital, and there was a possibility of brain damage, but at least Justin was going to be all right, and to Liz, that was all that mattered.
She drove into her driveway on Hope Street shortly after one o’clock, and everyone was in bed, except Peter, who had just come in from his date, and he was surprised to see his mother. She never went anywhere anymore, except court and work. He hadn’t seen her out in the evening since Bill left.
The House on Hope Street Page 18