When a Man Loves a Woman

by Kathryn Shay

  Oh, God, DiMarco, you’re lost. Completely and utterly lost.

  And it had never felt so good.

  When he opened the door to her, even the desperate look on her face and her shadowed eyes couldn’t dull his pleasure. She was hauntingly beautiful in a grass green, long T-shirt and tight leggings. “Hello, Nick.”

  The sound of her voice gave him cause for concern. It was scratchy and hoarse. But she said nothing else until she was seated on a chair facing the couch. Her hands were clasped so tightly, her knuckles were white.

  “Sweetheart, what is it?”

  Taking a deep breath, she began. “Nick, I believe you’re making a mistake with Heather. It’s my professional opinion that she needs to work through some things about her mother. She knows I spoke with Suzanne.”

  Involuntarily, all of Nick’s muscles tensed. “You told me you wouldn’t do anything behind my back. Why did you tell her you’d seen Suzanne?”

  “I didn’t. She heard you and Beth arguing. She asked me to tell her what Suzanne said.”

  Amanda lost all the color in her face. Her pallor upset him but he steeled himself. God help him, he knew the worst was yet to come.

  “Why didn’t she ask me?”

  “She’s afraid to ask you, Nick.”

  He scowled at the thought of his daughter being afraid of him. “I would have explained to her that Suzanne is not worth discussing. I don’t want to hurt her all over again by telling her what her mother did, why she left. I have to protect Heather and Jason from that.”

  Her posture taut, Amanda warned, “I don’t think you have a choice anymore. Heather is demanding answers. Someone has to give them to her.”

  And if I don’t, you will, he thought. Why the fuck was she doing this to them?

  To suppress his temper at her interference, Nick got up and walked to the window, jamming his hands in his pockets. He had to do something. Maybe Heather did have a right to know. Maybe if he agreed to let Amanda talk to her, it would be enough.

  He pivoted, crossed to the chair and squatted in front of her. Grabbing her hand, he was startled by its iciness. Deep in his gut, he knew just talking about Suzanne wasn’t what she was after. “What else, Amanda?”

  “I’m going to tell Heather that Suzanne asked about her.” She bit her lip so hard he was sure she’d draw blood. “I’m going to tell her Suzanne asked if there was a chance she and Jason might ever want to see her.”

  “No,” he said hoarsely. “Absolutely not.”

  Amanda lifted her chin and took a deep breath. Swimming blue eyes looked at him from a chalk white face. “I’m not asking your permission, Nick. I’m just letting you know my intentions, as I said I would. I’m going to call Suzanne. I’m going to tell her how concerned I am about Heather’s well-being. I’m going to tell her I think she’s a large part of the cause of Heather’s depression.”

  Nick rose slowly and stepped away from her, fear gripping him. The thought of Suzanne anywhere near his children made his stomach roil. “Don’t do this, Amanda. You don’t understand.”

  “No, Nick, you don’t understand. You’re too close to this to see it clearly. Heather needs to see Suzanne, to recognize her mother is simply a woman who made a mistake years ago. She needs to know that it wasn’t her fault that Suzanne left. That the woman herself was responsible, not the child. And then she’ll need help to recognize who she is and how she’s not like this mother she’s never known. How she’s caring and loving and good.” Amanda’s voice broke. “Like you.” She swallowed hard before she went on. “I know I can help her to understand this if she gets to talk to her mother face-to-face. Nick, she needs this for her sanity. Actually, I think she needs it to survive at all.”

  Nick felt more helpless than he had the day Suzanne walked out. They stood facing each other. “Please, don’t do this. I’ll never be able to trust you again.”

  “You don’t trust me now, Nick. Not enough to listen to me.”

  “How can you be so sure that you’re right?”

  “How can you?”

  “She’s my daughter. I was there ten years ago to see what happened to Heather when Suzanne left us.”

  “Heather isn’t a baby anymore, Nick. And we’ll be there to help her.”

  “No, you won’t. I will.”

  He watched her suck in her breath, as if she’d been slapped. When she finally regained her composure, she lifted her chin. “All right, if that’s the consequence of my actions, so be it. I told you a long time ago, Heather is my first priority.”

  “You also told me you loved me.”

  Her shoulders shook, then tears coursed down her cheeks. “I do love you. I love Heather, too. And Jason.” She brushed off the moisture on her face.

  He clenched his fists and willed the tears from his own eyes. “And you’ll still do this, in spite of what I think is best for Heather. And knowing it will mean the end of us.”

  She looked away. “Yes, if I have to.”

  He was silent for a long time. “You’ll have to,” he said finally.

  “I knew I would.”

  “Is that what last night was all about?”

  As if she couldn’t speak, she nodded.

  “Then there’s nothing more to say.”

  “No, there isn’t.” She clenched trembling hands behind her. Turning, she crossed to the door and opened it. “Goodbye, Nick.”

  The click of the latch sounded like a bullet. But her words had been the real ammunition. She’d hit him straight in the heart with the message that she didn’t love him quite enough.

  He sank down into the chair and buried his face in his hands.

  o0o

  Oh, no, what have I done now? Heather thought as she crept back to bed from hiding in the doorway. She’d broken up her father and Amanda because she wanted to talk about her mother. His pain was all her fault and no matter how far she burrowed under the covers, she couldn’t escape the sight of him sitting in the living room so unhappy. It was all her fault. Just like her mother’s leaving had been. She’d rather die than hurt her father. She’d rather die than hurt Amanda. There was no way, she knew, as the salty tears of guilt soaked her baby-doll pajamas, that she could ever live with what she’d done tonight.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  April Fools’ Day, 12:00 noon

  Four days after she’d overheard Ms. Carson and her father arguing, Heather clutched her books to her chest and walked down the senior wing of Eastside High School, listening to the banter, the cursing and the whispered words of love. She hadn’t visited this area of the school much, but knew her destination. Kids jostled to get around her, others made snide comments about moving her butt out of the way, but she just stopped and stared at what she’d come to see. Locker number 453. Empty now for two months. Did anyone really miss Ron?

  “Hey, babe, need some help?”

  Pivoting slightly, Heather looked at the tall, gangling boy with spiked hair and a bad case of acne. “Yeah,” she muttered. “I do.”

  As she turned and walked away, she heard him murmur to his buddy, “Cra-zy.”

  “That’s me. Crazy.”

  No, Heather, you’re just sad.

  She spotted Sandi and Matt ten feet down the hall. But they didn’t see her; they were glued to each other. Matt had his hand in the back pocket of Sandi’s jeans and she held on to his rib cage. They talked in low, secret tones and Heather did a U-turn to avoid them. Their closeness made her ache.

  “Everyone has someone else,” she told herself, “but me.”

  You have your father. And Ms. Carson.

  “But they don’t have each other. Because of me. I drove her away, just like my own mother.”

  Nah, kid. Remember what the lady said. You aren’t responsible for other people’s decisions. Particularly the decisions of adults.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Heather traveled across the building with plodding steps. The counseling suite was a zoo, as usual, and she slipped into Ms. Carson’
s office unnoticed. Scanning the room where she’d sat with people who cared about her, she pictured Ms. Carson teasing Matt into agreement, coaxing Sandi into talking and urging Ron to share. The vision was immediately transposed with the same woman, weeping in the DiMarco living room.

  Barraged by memories she couldn’t stand to think about, she removed from her backpack a small picture the school photographer had taken of her, scribbled something on the back of it and placed it in the corner of the metal frame that held Lisa’s photo. Then she left, quietly and unobserved, like she did everything.

  o0o

  April Fools’ Day, 1:00 p.m.

  Nick hit the punching bag as hard as he could, time and time again, but it didn’t help.

  “Nothing will, you fool.”

  I can think of one thing.

  He landed a mean right jab. “Don’t even mention it.”

  Listen, buddy, you can’t kid me. I saw those scribbles on the legal pad. All the reasons you should call her.

  “But I didn’t call, did I?” he said as he pummeled the bag with five quick ones in a row.

  No, instead, you tossed and turned for hours just like you have for five nights running. Ever since you gave her that stupid ultimatum.

  He whacked even harder but finally had to stop and wipe the sweat from his eyes with his old football jersey. “Think of something else, DiMarco, like how happy Heather was this morning.”

  Almost bubbling, she’d come into the kitchen, kissed him and Jason a sunny hello and chattered through breakfast.

  Pretty sudden change, isn’t it?

  She’d been morose for most of the past week, but he’d thought it was because his vile mood had rubbed off on her.

  Viciously tearing off his gloves, he headed for the track. Joris, Beech and Stowe really understood the need to work off tension when they installed this gym on the ground floor, he thought as he hit the specially designed pavement. And someday it would all be commonplace in his life. This exercise facility. A chic office. And lots and lots of money.

  “I don’t need anything else,” he told himself as he sped around the circle.

  You need Amanda.

  “No, I don’t. I’ll find another woman, sexier, more experienced, more understanding of my needs.”

  Fool!

  o0o

  April Fools’ Day, 1:15 p.m.

  “Really, Amanda, I can’t believe you asked me to meet you in this hovel.” Robert Carson sniffed at the fast-food restaurant with distaste, sipping coffee, the only thing he would risk ordering. He looked so out of place in his five-thousand-dollar suit that the sight was almost comical.

  Amanda hid her smirk behind the greasy, dripping burger she’d purposely chosen, along with a biggie fries and milk shake. Robert Carson detested fatty food and eyed hers with derision. “I warned you this was a bad day for me to meet you,” she said. “When you insisted, the only time I could spare was lunch. Since my break is so short, I thought it expeditious to meet near school.”

  All right, I admit I’m baiting him. But Nick said...

  Her smile faded, feeling again the gnawing, aching hole inside her caused by Nick’s absence from her life.

  Robert was talking and she focused in to alleviate some of the pain. “I decided it was time for a heart-to-heart chat. Your mother and I are concerned about you and your involvement with this DiMarco family I’ve done some investigating and there are things about him you should know.”

  Dropping the burger, Amanda stared openmouthed at her father. “You’ve investigated Nick?”

  “Yes, I have. Craig mentioned his tumultuous marriage to Joshua Cohen’s wife, but do you know the details?”

  Amanda began to sweat. First her palms got clammy. Then her forehead. Robert recited information Amanda already knew...they’d married young, the two pregnancies...no money...

  Leaning forward, her father uncharacteristically took her hand. “He isn’t exactly the kind of man you’re used to, Amanda. He’s too earthy, too of the streets.”

  She stopped Robert’s catalog of Nick’s shortcomings with a vicious shake of her head. Her heart beat faster and her stomach churned. “When did you have Nick investigated?”

  Scowling at the interruption, Robert pulled back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Right after you stormed out on us at Christmas.” He peered at her for a moment, and his features softened. “I know we haven’t always gotten along, dear, but I wish you’d listen to me on this. I care about you and only want what’s best for you.”

  Amanda believed him for a moment. There was something different about this whole conversation. “Father,” she asked, “what did you hope to accomplish by inviting Nick to the gala?”

  Robert kept his attorney’s unflappable composure, but his eyes glimmered with conflicting emotions. “Don’t make me spell it out, Amanda.” When she remained silent, he sighed and said, “I believe you needed to see he doesn’t fit in our world. You needed to see he tried it once before and failed miserably. You needed to see him beside Porter and Craig.”

  Amanda wanted to laugh. Porter and Craig looked liked milquetoast next to Nick. Neither had ever been able to set her pulse spinning with just a glance.

  Very carefully, she folded her napkin and pushed her food away. She looked over her father’s shoulder and tried to understand his point of view. Though she was angry at his machinations, she knew it wasn’t his fault that she’d lost Nick.

  “Father, Nick and I are no longer seeing each other for a lot of reasons, not because of what you’ve done. But I resent your interference in my life and you need to know that I won’t tolerate it anymore. If you continue to try to control me, I won’t be a part of your life at all.” She held his gaze and was surprised by the hurt she saw there.

  “Amanda,” he said hoarsely, sitting forward to grasp her hand again. His was cold. “I’ve already lost one daughter. I can’t lose you, too.”

  Her throat clogged. There had been too much loss, too much sadness in her life. But she had to be strong. “Then you need to think about what I’ve said.” She stood before she could relent. “You have another chance with me, but I swear it’s the last one.” She turned on her heel and left Robert Carson alone in a foreign world, and with his foreign emotions.

  o0o

  April Fools’ Day, 3:00 p.m.

  The DiMarco apartment was still and silent when Heather let herself in. It was never this quiet, because someone was usually here for them. Or occasionally it was just her and Jason. But she was never alone. Today, the eeriness of it suited her mood.

  “I’m alone because I lied,” she said into the emptiness.

  She’d called her grandmother from school and told her she wouldn’t be getting off the bus at the older DiMarcos’ house today, as planned. She’d said she was going to Tammy’s for dinner instead and her father had okayed this.

  “Doesn’t matter anymore, though, does it?”

  Of course it matters. Ms. Carson just told you yesterday how much you matter to her.

  Carefully hanging her jacket on the coat tree, Heather straightened the throw rug and walked to her room. She put her books on the desk and stowed her backpack in the closet. Then she remade her bed and sat down on it. It would be good to be free from all this. Free from the constant worry over disappointing someone, from the fear of making anyone unhappy. She saw again her father burying his face in his hands.

  “I sure blew that one, just like everything else. Well, no more. No more.”

  Unbidden, she beard Ms. Carson’s voice. Heather, I can help you through this. So can your dad.

  But they just didn’t understand.

  Restless, she sprang from the bed, went to her dresser and removed a bag. Inside was a fragile porcelain unicorn. It was delicately detailed, and Aunt Beth had said it reminded her of Heather so she’d bought it at the World’s Fair.

  Jason loved this figurine. When he was sad or in pain, Heather would let him hold it, stroke it, and keep it on his nightstand un
til he fell asleep. Quietly, she made her way to his room. She opened the door and strode over to straighten the bedspread and put his sneakers away. It was a chore for Jason to keep his room tidy, but he tried real hard.

  Looking around at his superhero posters and his baseball photos, she scowled. “Why you, Jase? You’re so sweet, so nice, so uncomplaining. Life just isn’t fair.”

  But you know that, Heather. And Ms. Carson’s right, you have to make it as fair as you can and tough out the rest.

  Heather placed the bag on his bed where he wouldn’t miss it, wiped at the tears that were flowing at the thought of never again seeing the brother she loved so much, and left his room.

  Back in the living area, Heather took one more glance around. Her eyes lighted on a photograph. Her father was on one knee for the camera, holding her on his leg, grinning at the lens. For the first time, she realized her mother must have taken the shot. It was more than she could bear. She raised her hand and traced the outline of his face. “I love you, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

  Again, her counselor’s words came through. He loves you so much Heather, so do your grandparents, and Aunt Beth. Think about that when you’re feeling down.

  “No,” she said aloud into the empty apartment. “They’ll be better off without me.”

  But suddenly she wasn’t so sure. To rid herself of doubt, she walked around the room, turning facedown every single picture of her that was there. Next to one on the bookshelf was a framed snapshot she hadn’t seen before—it was of Ms. Carson, her and Jason. Heather was mesmerized by the happiness on the counselor’s face as she peered out at the camera. And Jason looked happier than she’d ever seen him. But it was her own image that struck her the most. She had that sense of joy, too. And it was thanks to the woman in the picture.

  Holding the photo close, she walked to the bathroom, but slower this time, less sure.

  o0o

  April Fools’ Day, 4:00 p.m.

  Nick rubbed his sore eyes and sank into the leather chair. The report he was working on was giving him a headache in more ways than one. It outlined several borderline procedures for yet another wealthy client to pay fewer taxes. Ah, the luxuries of the rich. Soon, they would be his, too.