Susan glanced down at her breast. God forbid this cancer killed her. She wouldn’t put it past Grace to try to make a date with Bruce at her funeral.
No, she couldn’t tell her friends about her frustration. But thank God for Charles.
She grabbed her keys and pushed open the restaurant door. She’d made a date, and it was time to keep it.
Susan spotted Charles as soon as she got inside the barbecue restaurant, which was down the street from the school where he taught. He sat at a table by the window, a tall glass of Coca-Cola in front of him, looking out on Armitage Avenue. The way he smiled at her warmed her heart. He stood as she approached. When she reached him, he took her hand and kissed her cheek with a tenderness Bruce hadn’t demonstrated since the night before her surgery. “Glad you could make it.”
“I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
“I barely had time to order a pop. I’m sorry, there’s no bar.”
“I don’t need to drink. I’ve got to drive back to Wisconsin. Bottled water will be fine.”
Charles left to get the beverage, returning with a laminated menu. They took time out to peruse it, and he left once more, this time to place the order in this small restaurant with a front register and no waitstaff. Susan knew that he would soon ask why she asked to see him, something he’d been too polite to ask when she called. Would she be able to tell him the truth?
“I’m glad you called me, Susan,” he began, “but I have to wonder why. Was there something on your mind?”
She met his gaze head-on. “I guess I just needed a friend.”
“A friend? When I saw you, you were with the girls who’ve been your friends all your life.”
“Yes, and it was great to see them. I think seeing them again, especially Pat and Grace, reminded me of all I’ve been missing. At least the two of them keep in touch. Elyse is as far removed as I’ve been.”
“So you feel like there’s a hole in your life somewhere? Even living up there in Wisconsin?”
“Oh, it’s a nice life. A nice house, great kids, good neighbors.” She saw his quizzical look and knew he wondered why she didn’t mention her husband.
Instead of asking about Bruce, he asked, “How about friends?”
“Your typical suburban street, where everyone knows each other. We’re friendly, but we don’t really get into each other’s business. There’s no one I’d feel comfortable revealing my deep, dark secrets to.” She smiled at him across the table. “But with you it’s different, Charles. It doesn’t even seem like any time has passed since you and I were seeing each other.”
Her smile faded at his next words.
“But it has, Susan. It’s been half a lifetime for us. Sure, I live in the same apartment I did back then. But you’re married, and you’ve got a whole new life, far removed from the South Side.”
She hadn’t the proverbial leg to stand on as far as objecting to his statement, and she knew it. But she also knew he hadn’t said it to be cruel; he was merely pointing out the way things really were.
Charles leaned back into the booth. “Tell you what. We don’t have to talk about it right now. Why don’t we just enjoy our lunch?”
They talked about other topics as they ate. After he paid the check—Susan wanted to, saying lunch had been her idea, but he insisted—he suggested they go to the lakefront and walk off their meal.
He drove his maroon Blazer, and she followed in the M-Class Mercedes SUV that Bruce gifted her with for Christmas two years before. They parked next to each other in one of the lots.
“Nice ride,” Charles commented, his hand resting on the Mercedes’s waxed black exterior. “I’d like to get one of these myself. Of course, just being a teacher . . .”
“Teaching is important, too, Charles.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t pay as well as your old man’s field.”
She sensed he was goading her. And it was working, if that lump that suddenly formed in her throat was any indicator. “Money isn’t everything, Charles.”
They began walking companionably down a concrete path, their shoulders brushing every few seconds. It was a cool spring day, in the low sixties, a cloud cover keeping the temperature lower than usual and the standard crowds away. They passed no one as they walked.
“No, it isn’t,” he said. After a half minute of silence, he asked, “Susan, is your husband making you unhappy?”
She could delay no longer—the time had come to tell him why she’d contacted him. She found that the words tumbled out with surprising ease. “Yes, and I’ll tell you why. Last year I went for my annual gynecological exam, and my doctor felt a lump in my breast. It turned out to be malignant.”
“You look healthy,” he said, ending with a slightly raised tone of a question. “It was probably caught in time.”
She didn’t miss the quick survey he did of her, looking for obvious signs of poor health, but to her relief she saw no pity in his eyes, only concern. “Yes, it looks that way. Of course, one never knows how long these things last. I had a lumpectomy and radiation treatments. I feel good, and my last exam showed no cancer.”
“I feel a ‘but’ coming.”
Susan smiled. He sounded relieved to hear she was doing okay. It meant a lot to her to know he cared. Then she looked down, knowing she had to continue. This part was difficult to say, even to Charles. “My husband has been acting like I’ve got a contagious disease.” She stopped walking, suddenly not sure if she could go through with it. “You know, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea—”
Charles grabbed her arm as she began to move in the other direction. “Uh-uh. You called me because you wanted to tell me something. I’m not letting you go until you tell me.”
“And I told you, Charles. Now I’m realizing how stupid the whole thing is.” She took on a deliberate falsetto, whiny tone. “‘My husband doesn’t think I’m attractive anymore, so I called you because I liked the way you looked at me.’” She reverted to her normal voice. “That’s my deep, dark secret. Now I feel like a fool, and I’d prefer to do that in private.”
“It sounds like you’ve been doing too much in private, Susan. Have you forgotten what you told me less than an hour ago? That you needed a friend?”
She covered her face with her hands, certain she’d made an ass of herself and feeling herself about to crumble. Charles stepped forward and embraced her, politely nodding to two young mothers pushing baby strollers with toddlers strapped inside as they passed. They glanced at Susan with curious eyes but kept walking. Displays of emotion weren’t all that unusual at the lake front, where people confronted lives as turbulent as the waters of Lake Michigan just a few dozen yards away.
Susan composed herself, and she and Charles resumed walking, his arm around her shoulder and hers around his waist. They said little, content just to be in each other’s company.
After an hour, Charles said, “We should probably head back. It’ll take a little time to get back to the cars from here.”
“All right.”
“I’m curious. What’d you tell your husband you were doing this afternoon?”
“I told him I was spending the afternoon with Elyse. Her husband just had a malignant tumor removed, and she’s feeling a little frightened right now. I did see her yesterday.”
“And you told Elyse not to call your house and blow your alibi.”
“No, I didn’t. I gave her my cell phone number yesterday and asked her to call me on that because she’ll always be able to reach me. She’s got too much to do to be calling me, anyway. I’m sure she’s down at the hospital right now. I didn’t tell her I’m meeting you. She doesn’t even know I’m a cancer patient.”
“She doesn’t?”
“Very few people know, Charles. My husband. My mother. My sister and brother-in-law. And now you. Even my kids don’t know. We thought it best that they not worry about things they don’t fully understand. They know I was in the hospital for an operation, but none of the details.”
“I don’t get it, Susan. Your kids are too young to understand, but Elyse, Pat, Grace . . . they’re certainly not.”
“I didn’t tell them because . . . people look at you differently when they know you have cancer, Charles. Especially breast cancer. They wonder if you’ll be alive a year from now; they wonder what your boobs look like after surgery. And they feel sorry for you. I saw it in the eyes of some of the nurses at the hospital.” She stopped walking to look him dead in the eye. “I didn’t sense that from you, and I thank you for that.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you, Susan. I might be a little worried about what you’ve gone through, but I do believe you’ll be fine. You look too good for it to be otherwise.”
She gave him a rueful smile. “Thanks for your optimism.” She started to walk again but stopped when he grabbed her hand. “What is it?”
“I’m glad you called me. And I know it’s more than your ego needing to be stroked, to be told you still look good after your operation. You’ve never been a shallow person.”
“Thanks . . . I think.” Susan gave him a sunny smile at the backhanded compliment, but he remained serious.
“So what happens now? You’ve gotten that burden off your chest; you know I think you’re still beautiful.”
God, she couldn’t stop grinning. He affected her better than any tonic on the market. “You’re killing me with compliments, Charles.”
“Just answer my question.”
“We’re friends. But I don’t want this afternoon to be a one-time thing.” Of that she was certain.
“So you keep lying to your husband about how you plan to spend a couple of hours.”
Susan’s shoulders felt like lead. “What do you want me to do, Charles? Calling you was a last-minute impulse. I haven’t worked it all out in my head. For all I knew you would have pissed me off about something and I wouldn’t have wanted to see you again anyway. Not that it can’t still happen,” she cautioned.
“Susan, we’ve always been friends. But we used to be a lot more to each other than that. What if I’m not satisfied with merely being your friend?”
She didn’t hesitate. “I’m afraid that’s all I can offer you, Charles.”
He accepted her response in silence. They walked back toward where they parked, moving faster than before, stopping to watch teenagers playing basketball at the courts.
“That kid’s good,” he said, his eyes on a boy in torn jeans who, when not scoring baskets, blocked attempted shots of opposing team members.
Charles moved a few feet in front of her, and for the first time Susan noticed the small bald spot on the back of his head. It would probably get larger as time went on. They really had become middle-aged, she thought with amusement.
“He reminds me of Douglas.”
Her jaw went taut at the mention of Charles’s brother, but she knew they had to talk about it. “How are things between you and Douglas?”
“We get on all right. We’ve both made a special effort for our mother’s sake. He’s . . . he’s scheduled to be released soon. That’s one reason I still live in the house. I don’t trust him. I don’t want him running drugs out of my mother’s house, or taking her jewelry to make a buy. He knows I’m there, so he’s on his best behavior. I whipped his ass twenty-five years ago, and I’ll do it again if I have to.”
Susan winced. She hadn’t expected Charles to bring up the fight he and Douglas had had. “I guess the rumor mill put in overtime over that one.”
“I’ll say. I must have heard five different stories. One went that I was jealous of Douglas’s success, so I went after you, the one thing Douglas had lost, just to get back at him. Then there was the one that said Douglas was keeping you in an apartment in Wisconsin, but you got tired of waiting for him and took up with me, never expecting to get caught.”
“What?”
“Believe me, the person who told me that story almost got popped himself.”
“I’m sure there were plenty more, but I’d rather not hear them, if you don’t mind.”
“I wouldn’t have repeated the more vicious lies to you, anyway. It all happened a long time ago.”
When they reached their cars, he stood behind her as she unlocked the door with her remote. She opened the door, then turned to him before getting in. “Thanks for listening, Charles. I’ll be in touch.”
“Don’t you dare hold out your hand like you expect me to shake it,” he said, practically growling.
“Charles—”
He took a step forward and embraced her, his lips claiming hers. After an initial jerk of her shoulders, she relaxed, a contented sigh escaping from her throat, and she reached out to hold him.
The kiss continued for fifteen sexy seconds. “I . . . I have to go,” she said weakly, her hands clasped in front of her after she forced herself to move them from his shoulders.
“I know. I just don’t want to let you go. Not again.”
“I’ll be back, Charles. I promise.”
His arms tightened around her waist. “Make it soon.”
Chapter 28
Mid-May
Lake Forest, Illinois
Elyse rolled her eyes. She’d always gotten along fairly well with her stepchildren, but now both of them were getting on her nerves, with their endless questions about the quality of care their father was receiving. Elyse knew they worried about him, but they didn’t have to act like she had no stake in the matter. Franklin was her husband. They’d been grilling her ever since emerging from the bedroom, where he now sat in a reclining chair a good part of the day while he healed.
“I don’t think Pop should be left alone while you work, Elyse,” Frankie said now. “Don’t you worry about him being home all by himself?”
“Of course I do, but he insisted. Kids”—it seemed odd to refer to adults in their thirties that way, but she’d always used that word when speaking to them jointly—“your father doesn’t want to be treated as an invalid. As far as he’s concerned, he’s just like any other postsurgical patient. He wouldn’t need nursing care if he just had his appendix out.”
“But he didn’t just have his appendix taken out,” Frankie pointed out. “That’s one of the few things they left in.”
Rebecca stood with her arms crossed over her chest. “So there’s no financial considerations involved, Elyse?”
“Of course not. Your daddy has excellent health insurance, plus supplemental coverage. I’ve been home with him since the rehab center released him last weekend. I’m convinced he’ll be all right. If not, we’ll get a home health aide for him.”
Frankie nodded knowingly. “Yeah, I’ve heard about those people. They come into your house and help themselves to anything that’s not bolted down while their patient is napping.”
“Elyse, why would you want to have some stranger come in and take care of Pop instead of doing it yourself?” Rebecca asked. “Don’t you want to take care of him?”
She tried not to show the frustration she felt. “Frankie, Rebecca. I know you both want your father to get the best care possible, but he and I talked all this out before we even told you about his tumor. He made it clear that he didn’t want an aide unless he couldn’t get out of bed. I talked to the physical therapists at the rehab center, and I happen to be one myself. I’m convinced he can manage. They wouldn’t have let him come home unless they were satisfied that he could take care of his daily activities. It’s important for him to have some independence. We want him to recover mentally, as well as physically.
“And as for me continuing to work, it’s important to our family that I have a steady income. Your father will receive his full salary for twelve weeks, but his income will drop if he has to go on disability. Todd and Brontë are both in school, with room and board to be paid, as well as tuition. It makes solid financial sense for me to keep working. Your daddy’s coverage doesn’t cover the entire cost of a home health care aide, only part of it. Caretakers don’t come cheap, especially with an agency surc
harge tacked on.”
“Well, I’m starting to wonder how clearly Pop is thinking,” Frankie said. “I’m going to talk to him about it, see if I can get him to change his mind.”
Elyse rolled her eyes. “You do what you think is best, Frankie.”
Elyse talked to Kevin about it that night, after Franklin fell asleep, calling him from her cell phone, as she always did. She and Kevin weren’t doing anything wrong, of course, but Franklin might not see it as harmless. She knew she wouldn’t like it if some woman called the house looking for her husband.
“Honestly, they don’t seem like the same kids I used to have so much fun with,” Elyse complained. “They second-guess me, imply that I’m not taking care of their father . . .”
“Try not to be too hard on them, Elyse. Their father is ill, they’re faced with the possibility of losing him, and they don’t know how to handle it.”
“My life has changed more than either of theirs, Kevin.” She knew she sounded a little short, but it didn’t seem fair for him to be so understanding of Frankie and Rebecca’s behavior and show no sympathy for her.
“I know it has. I don’t mean to imply otherwise.”
“And being worried about their father is no excuse for treating me like someone with an agenda. I’ve been married to their father for nearly twenty-six years. They should know I have his best interests at heart. It isn’t fair. They grill me like a sirloin steak, then go home to their own lives, and I’m left alone to monitor how much Franklin eats and drinks, dispense his medications, and check his weight.”
It felt good to vent a little. She looked forward to talking with Kevin at the end of a long day. They generally spoke a few times a week, always at a little after nine at night. Kevin didn’t seem to mind listening to her express her fears and annoyances, and Elyse found she rather enjoyed the attention and the sympathetic ear. Now that everyone knew about Franklin’s diagnosis, she was surrounded by concerned family members, all of whom offered unsolicited advice for the best way to care for him, now that he’d been discharged from the rehabilitation center. She didn’t like being told how to care for her husband, and it was getting harder and harder to keep her temper in check. Already she’d abruptly hung up on Franklin’s first wife, Carolyn, when she asked the same thing her children had asked this afternoon: Why was she going back to work and leaving Franklin alone to care for himself? Elyse felt that she owed Frankie and Rebecca an explanation because Franklin was their father, but she felt no such obligation to Carolyn. As far as Elyse was concerned, Carolyn had a lot of damn nerve, questioning her like that. Who the hell was she, thinking she deserved answers?
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