Straight on Toward Paradise

by Kristin Wallace

  “That doesn’t make what he did right.”

  No, of course it didn’t, but acknowledging a long-buried truth somehow made the end of her marriage not as painful. Her next breath came easily and became almost a cleansing.

  “No, but I think he was happy with her,” Mary said, acknowledging another truth. “I saw him whenever he’d come to pick up Emma to bring her here for a visit. He always looked so…peaceful. Like he’d found his place in life. He never lost that, even years later.”

  “What about your place in life?”

  She tried to smile, but feared the attempt came off more as a grimace. “I don’t think I’ve found it yet, but maybe…The Paradise. This show. Even Paige and Imogene, in a way.”

  “His daughters are helping you find your calling?”

  She shrugged. “I know it doesn’t make any sense. I decided to stay here after the funeral because Emma needed me, but now I think it was because I needed them. By all rights, I should resent those girls, but I just can’t. They’re taking up a place in my heart.”

  “Paige I can see. She’s special.”

  “Yes, and so is Imogene,” she said, regarding him with a drill sergeant glare.

  His eyes crinkled as he grinned. “Calm down, Momma, I’m not attacking one of your babies.”

  She relaxed her stance. “I know Genie is prickly and difficult—”

  “And fourteen.”

  She smiled. “Yes. A difficult age for a girl under the best of circumstances.”

  “And she’s not experiencing the best of anything right now.”

  The memory of Thomas and Mona lying motionless in twin caskets flashed through her mind, and she shuddered. “No, but it’s not just that. I know Imogene is adopted, but she reminds me so much of Emma at that age. They’re both angry and resentful. The tension between them scares me sometimes.”

  “Probably because they do have a similar temperament,” Brent said. “They set sparks off of each other like a steel sander shaping a car fender.”

  “Wow…such imagery, and pretty observant for someone who barely knows them.”

  He chuckled. “I’m an actor. I make my living studying peoples’ behavior. I think Emma and Imogene will find their way, and so will Paige.”

  “Paige is probably the most well-adjusted person in the house,” Mary said, with droll humor. She was constantly amazed by the little girl’s maturity.

  “I believe it.” Brent laughed. “She’s amazing and a little frightening. Add in the combination of losing her parents so young, and you just want to hold on to her and promise everything will be okay.”

  “Yes.” Brent Atwood was amazing, too. He was a man who understood people and who had a deeply sensitive and caring soul.

  “So are you, Mary Bertram,” Brent said. “No matter how much you deny it, or claim those girls are helping you, you are one special lady. I just have one question.”

  “What?”

  Without another word, he pulled the stopper out of the sink, letting the water drain. Then he led her outside to the patio. Night had fallen, and it looked like every star in the universe had shown up for the party. She stared up at the heavens and then closed her eyes, feeling the warm breeze brush her cheeks and listened to the waves pounding against the beach in the distance.

  Suddenly, music came on. She opened her eyes and realized Brent had turned it on with a remote. He placed the device on the bar and walked over to her.

  He held out his hand. “Will you dance with me?”

  Mary smiled and let him pull her closer. “This feels like a real date,” she said, as they circled slowly.

  His grip on her waist tightened, bringing her hips flush with his. “It is real.”

  The other day she’d lamented the expansion of her figure, but now her body didn’t seem to care how many extra years or pounds she’d added. “It’s been so long, I’d forgotten.”

  “There hasn’t been anyone?”

  “Nothing serious. I had friends try to set me up, but it never felt right.”

  Not like this did. A scary thought that Mary didn’t want to contemplate too closely yet.

  They danced silently. Brent took her hand and trapped it against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat through his shirt, through his skin.

  “Do I get to ask questions tonight, too?” she asked, after a full minute of silence.

  There was a long pause and then finally, “I wish you wouldn’t.”

  “You think I can’t handle your war stories?” Mary asked. “Maybe that’s the advantage of dating an older woman? I’m not shocked by much anymore.”

  “I just don’t want you to see me as…” He hesitated and his Adam’s apple went up and down as he swallowed. “…as what I used to be.”

  “What did you used to be?”

  “An alcoholic.”

  He said the words with no inflection. Like they were ordinary words, but the story behind them must have been devastating.

  “I’ve had friends who struggled with alcohol,” she said, urging him to open up.

  His snort was in no way polite. “I didn’t struggle. I was a fall-down, sloppy drunk who drove away everyone I loved, before I nearly died.”

  “You almost died?” Mary tried not to gasp. She’d asked him to reveal his secrets after all. But she couldn’t help putting her hands to her mouth.

  He’d stopped dancing some time ago, but now he moved toward the beach. Toward the Gulf and the never-ending barrage of waves.

  “Brent?” Mary hurried after him. “Please tell me.”

  He stood in the sand and shoved his hands in his pockets. “My mother was a drunk. I think I was the next in a long line of them, actually. Her mother died of liver disease related to alcohol. So did her father, the most abusive son-of-a-bitch I’ve ever met. He used to beat her and her mother senseless.”

  “Oh Brent…” Mary wanted to cry, but she held back. This wasn’t about her. He needed to tell this story.

  “My mom started drinking to escape the horror, and eventually that became another sort of hell,” he said, staring down at the sand. “I don’t remember her ever being sober. By the time I was seven, I was taking care of her. I did the grocery shopping, when we had money for it. I made whatever dinner I could manage. I took care of her after a bender.”

  Mary couldn’t stand still any longer and slipped an arm through his. This time he didn’t pull away. “There was no one to help you?”

  “My grandparents were long dead by then, and she didn’t have any siblings. When I was eleven, child services found out, though. One of my teachers became suspicious because I wore the same clothes every day for three weeks. They took me away from her. I left her behind.”

  “You didn’t leave her behind. They were trying to protect you.”

  “Yes, but there was no one else left to protect her. She went into rehab a dozen times, but it never stuck. Eventually, she died of liver failure, too, just like my grandmother. She was only thirty-three.”

  Mary closed her eyes, her heart breaking for the poor woman who’d never had a chance. “I’m so sorry. I hope you didn’t blame yourself.”

  Brent glanced over, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “For an older woman, you’re awfully naïve,” he said, with a hint of amusement that wouldn’t allow her to feel offended. “Of course I blamed myself. I eventually tried my mother’s brand of anesthesia to try and quiet the guilt…with the same results. Before long, I was drunk most of the time, although I managed to hide it better. No one knew about my problem for years. My wife figured it out when I would black out for days.”

  “Your wife?” Mary blurted out. “You were married?”

  “For five years,” he said. “That was all she could handle. She tried, I’ll give her that, but when I accidentally hit her after she tried to throw out my liquor, that sealed the deal.”

  “You hit her?” Mary recoiled. He’d been abusive? Her mind couldn’t wrap around that.

  “It truly was an accide
nt, and I never touched her again,” he said. “Never hit anyone again, although it didn’t stop me from drinking. I couldn’t give it up, no matter how I tried. Not even when my son and daughter refused to see me anymore.”

  Oh, the blows kept coming. “You have children?”

  His mouth quirked, but his expression remained devastated. “I told you I’d crammed in a lot of terrible decisions in my short life. I drove them away, just as I had their mother. I was almost glad at the time. At least they didn’t have to be with a drunk anymore. But I’d forgotten about the family curse.”

  “The family curse?” Her brow wrinkled. “You mean alcohol?”

  “My son became addicted, too, only his problems included pills. My ex-wife called me after he’d wrapped his car around a tree. He’d been drunk and high and nearly died. Thank God no one else was hurt, though.”

  Mary had asked for the truth, but she’d never imagined anything so horrific. “You think his addiction and his accident were your fault?”

  “Maybe not the accident, per se, but he had my family’s alcoholic blood. That night I tried to kill myself.”

  This time there was no way to stop the gasp of shock. “Brent! Oh dear Lord.” Her body shook as she imagined him taking his own life…imagined him no longer being on this earth. “What happened?”

  Tears filled his eyes as he gazed out at the ocean. “I took out my grandfather’s gun…the one he’d used to terrorize my mother and grandmother…and I went to the backyard of my house in Chicago. I put the gun to my head and pulled the trigger.”

  Mary let out a whimper and clutched at him, picturing that moment when his finger flexed. The click. He was still here so there must have been a click and not a bang.

  He glanced down at her hand and then placed his over hers. “It didn’t go off, obviously. I had been given a reprieve, though God knows why?”

  “Because he wasn’t done with you yet,” Mary said, the certainty flooding through her. Brent remained here for a reason.

  “That click changed my life. The next day I flew out to New Mexico where my ex-wife lives, picked up my boy, and took us both to a rehab center on a tiny island that isn’t even on most maps. It’s one of those places only celebrities know about. At least the ones who don’t want the public to know about their addictions.”

  “You went to rehab together?” Mary shook her head.

  “I went to get us both straightened out,” he said. “I went through hours of therapy, dealing with my childhood and the guilt over not protecting my mother. My son got a first row seat for all of it, which was probably the best thing that happened out of the entire mess.”

  How many children ever became privy to the inner life of their parents? How many knew about the demons that kept adults awake at night? Emma never knew Mary had once dreamed of a Broadway career.

  “Your son came to understand why you had the same problems,” Mary said.

  “Andy always believed he’d been the cause of my drinking,” Brent said. “He thought if he tried harder, got straight A’s in school, and never stepped a foot over the line, that I’d quit. When that didn’t work, he went in the opposite direction.”

  “Is he all right now?” Mary asked, her heart aching for his son, who’d been a victim of generations of abuse.

  “He is…” Brent’s lips stretched into the first genuine smile he’d given since they’d started. “He’s in college, studying to be a therapist. He wants to help other addicts. And my daughter wants to be a pediatrician.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Thank goodness…that’s wonderful. So you talk to them now?”

  “Yes, and that’s another miracle I’ll never understand. They’ve forgiven me,” Brent said. “Even my ex-wife speaks to me again on occasion. And it all happened because that gun didn’t go off.”

  “You were spared for a reason.” She wrapped her arms around him. “That’s the miracle. You were given another chance.”

  “Yes. I think we’ve both been given a chance.” Brent framed her face. “Now, I have a question.”

  “Don’t you think we’ve had enough confessions for tonight?” Mary was exhausted and couldn’t take any more probing or revelations. There was so much she needed to process. So much she needed to absorb after Brent’s confession…and her own realization over the dinner dishes.

  He ran a finger across her cheek. “This isn’t such a hard one.”

  Lord, he could be so charming. She couldn’t help but smile. “Fine. What’s your question?”

  He pulled her even closer. “Do you think there’s a chance two lonely, broken, lost souls could have been brought here for a reason, too?”

  She stilled, her head jerking up to look in his eyes.

  Was it possible? Could a middle-aged divorcee and a man who’d nearly taken his life find the ultimate healing? The thought of it stole the oxygen from her lungs. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know or you’re too afraid to know?”

  “Too afraid,” she admitted.

  “I can live with that.”

  A gentle smile played across his lips, and then he lowered his head and kissed her. Like she’d never been kissed in her life. As if he didn’t ever want to stop. And her fifty-two-year-old body forgot it was fifty-two. Forgot she was a woman who’d been left by her husband. Forgot she wasn’t supposed to feel things like this anymore.

  He lifted his head. “Yes, I can live with that. Until you decide you aren’t too afraid to know.”

  Chapter 21

  The chocolate chip mint ice cream remained in the freezer. No one in the house wanted to touch it. Cold air wafted across her face as Emma stared at the container. All she had to do was grab it and throw it away.

  Just like all she had to do was admit she couldn’t stop thinking about Reece Casings kissing her into submission and how she wanted him to do it again. Like she couldn’t stop thinking about Layla’s taunt. Or Noah telling her she needed to forgive her father.

  With a muffled shriek of frustration, she slammed the freezer door closed, wishing it were as easy to shut out the voices in her head.

  “Emma?”

  She didn’t manage to muffle her next shriek. Emma spun around to find Imogene standing in the doorway of the kitchen, eyes wide with alarm.

  “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Emma said, letting out a quick rush of air. “Do you float above the ground?”

  Imogene’s lips twitched. “No, but you were pretty absorbed in whatever is in the freezer,” she said, in a miraculously friendly tone.

  Ever since the Harvest Festival, relations in the house had slowly improved. Defending their youngest sister had convinced Imogene that Emma wasn’t completely evil. At least the number of eye rolls had decreased, and the attitude had softened somewhat.

  “I was looking to see what I could make for dinner,” Emma said, not wanting to admit that she’d been fantasizing about Reece Casings backing her against the refrigerator and trying to ‘persuade’ her to go out with him by whatever means necessary.

  Imogene wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “Okay…well…I wanted to ask…that is…” she stumbled to a halt and looked at her shoes.

  Emma’s heart squeezed at the evidence that they still had to walk around on eggshells. Which meant things hadn’t improved as much as she’d hoped. “What is it, Genie?”

  “Well, Halloween is on Friday and…” She paused and took a deep breath. “Paige and I…we need costumes.”

  Halloween. Awesome.

  Emma hadn’t failed to notice the lawn decorations popping up around town, but otherwise she’d done her best to ignore evidence of the coming holiday. She always took great care in ignoring Halloween, since it represented the day her family had imploded. Emma didn’t go to Halloween parties, didn’t dress up, and made sure she went out so she would miss any stray kids who might come to the door.

  However, with two children in the house, she couldn’t exactly pretend the day didn’t exist. They deserved to have a nig
ht to dress up and have fun.

  “I suppose we should go shopping then,” Emma said. “Is Jillian’s Costumes still in town?”

  Imogene nodded. “Yeah, but they run out fast.”

  “Then we’d better be faster.” Emma headed for the hallway and grabbed her purse from the table near the door. “Get your sister, and let’s go.”

  “Should we bring Miss Mary?” Imogene asked, as she came downstairs a few minutes later with Paige.

  No doubt the teen was remembering the disastrous back-to-school shopping trip. Then, Emma had needed backup. Now, she had something to prove.

  “No, she’s resting in her room,” Emma said. “I don't want to bother her.”

  The girls shared a speaking glance and then looked back at Emma.

  “Oh, come on!” Emma said in exasperation. “We can handle finding a couple of Halloween costumes, right?”

  Paige shrugged but still looked worried.

  Imogene rolled her eyes. “I guess.”

  Emma ignored the unspoken doubt and hurried out the door, expecting the girls would follow. The promise of costumes would no doubt overcome their fears of spending an extended period of time with her.

  “So what do you girls want to be this year?” Emma asked, glancing in the rearview mirror to see her sisters. “What are you even doing? Do kids these days still go trick or treating?”

  “I’m going to a party at Tracey Trescott’s house,” Imogene said. “She has a huge thing every year. Everyone is going.”

  That could be fun…or a recipe for disaster. “Uh huh…who is Tracey Trescott? Is she in your grade?”

  “Yeah, I’ve known her since I was like five,” Imogene said, the implication clear that Emma would have known the name if she’d bothered to come around more often.

  Emma gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Are her parents going to be there? How late is this party? Will older kids be there?”

  “Oh my gosh!” Imogene burst out from the back seat. “Really? What’s with the third degree?”