Thursdays At Eight

  I’m not justifying the affair, but I’m admitting I played a role in what led up to it. It’s easy to excuse Miranda. She was young, vulnerable and grieving her father’s death. Because of that, she confused dependence with love and latched on to Michael.

  As Michael coped with the cancer, he seemed to need forgiveness. He’s talked to the boys, talked it all out with them, but not me. Not until tonight.

  I forgave him, and then I asked him to forgive me. He held my hand, nodded briefly and turned his head away, but not before I saw the tears. I would have said more, but I was crying, too.

  Death is approaching. I can feel it now, sense it. Everything inside me is screaming that it’s too soon and Michael is far too young to die. But if he can welcome death, surrender to it, can I do less?

  Who would have thought the end would come like this? I’ve hated Michael, and I’ve loved him. Now as death grows closer, I’ve discovered that my love is stronger than my hate

  “Mom.” Alex gently tapped her shoulder and Clare started, unaware she’d fallen asleep.

  As she’d sat vigil at Michael’s bedside, she’d drifted off. Her sons stood on the other side of the raised bed, looking at her, their eyes filled with dread and pain.

  “Dad’s breathing has slowed,” Mick told her.

  Clare chewed on her lower lip. This was exactly what they’d been told would happen. Michael was in the final stages of the disease and had, several days earlier, quietly slipped into a coma.

  Her pulse racing, Clare glanced at the heart monitor and watched the irregular beat of his heart. She reached for Michael’s hand, holding it firmly between her own as his body released its life.

  “No…” Alex sobbed, his agony nearly undoing Clare’s forced calm. Then there was nothing. A beat. One solitary beat, followed by a flat line. A nurse stepped into the room and stood with them, noting the time of death on a chart.

  This was it? The end? Somehow Clare had expected there to be more as Michael Craig moved serenely from life to death. Then the reality of it suddenly overwhelmed her and with it came a flood of pain, the current so strong it threatened to pull her under, to consume her. Alex broke down and crumpled into the chair, his shoulders racked with sobs. Mick stood tall and silent. Clare wanted to reach out to both her children, but was lost in her own agony.

  “We will always love you.” She choked out the words and leaned down to kiss Michael’s forehead. Kiss him goodbye.

  “It’s over,” Mick announced as though this was the end when in some ways it was only the beginning.

  Clare nodded and walked around to the other side of the bed. Her two sons hugged her, the three of them forming a tight circle. The same circle they’d formed the afternoon Michael had moved out of the family home. Only this time Michael was gone forever.

  The funeral took place two days later, and the service was crowded with people from the business community, family and friends. The Willow Grove Independent ran a full-column obituary and the dealership closed for the day. Clare hosted the wake at her house.

  Liz, Karen and Julia were all there, helping with the setup, seeing to the guests and lending Clare their love and support.

  She would never have asked them to help, but was grateful her dearest friends could be with her.

  It was evening before the last of the relatives and business associates had left. Mick and Alex were in the living room talking with Karen and Julia when Clare sat down in the kitchen.

  “It’s about time you took a rest,” Liz said, joining her. “How are you holding up?”

  Rather than answer, Clare simply nodded.

  “It hurts, doesn’t it?”

  “More than I ever thought it could,” Clare whispered. “We were divorced. I assumed I’d done my grieving…. I didn’t have a clue.”

  “I don’t think anyone really does.”

  Clare looked away. She wasn’t a woman who easily shed tears, but after a day in which she’d held back all the pain, she could no longer restrain her emotion. “I accepted a long time ago that Michael was dying,” she said. “I was prepared—as prepared as anyone can be. Yet when he died, I felt as though someone had shot me in the gut.”

  Liz nodded, and they sat across from each other, their hands wrapped around coffee mugs.

  “I remember when the police officer came to tell me Steve was gone. I heard the words, saw his mouth move and understood what he was saying, but I couldn’t take it in. I just couldn’t absorb it.”

  They were quiet for several moments, and Clare suspected her friend was dealing with the impact of her own memories.

  “I’ll say one thing for Michael. He was full of surprises right to the end,” she murmured after a while.

  “How do you mean?” Liz asked.

  “Our attorney told me Michael altered his will during the last month of his life. He left the dealership to me.” She almost smiled. As part of the divorce settlement, Michael had been required to buy out her half of the enterprise. And now…he’d given it back.

  “He didn’t leave it to the boys?”

  “No,” Clare said, still amazed. “He didn’t give Fred any explanation, but I know what he was thinking. Mick and Alex have no interest in selling cars. Their talents and desires lie in other areas. Being stuck with Craig Chevrolet would be nothing but a burden. It’s just not a career either of them wants.”

  “They could always sell it,” Liz suggested.

  Clare knew that was exactly what wouldn’t have happened. Michael feared the boys would keep it out of a sense of obligation and misplaced loyalty. Despite their feelings, they would’ve held on to it in an effort to honor their father’s memory.

  “You love the car business.”

  Clare nodded. “Yes, and I’ll make a success of it.”

  “You already have,” Liz reminded her.

  All Clare had done was pick up the pieces. Yes, she’d worked long hours, but she’d thrived on the challenge, just as Michael had known she would.

  “How are Mick and Alex holding up?”

  Clare wasn’t sure how to answer. Like her, they’d thought they were prepared for Michael’s death, but it had shaken them more than they’d expected.

  “They’re dealing with it, but they’ll need time.” As would Clare. She would go on, struggle forward and find her way through this grief, the same as her children.

  “How about another cup of coffee?” Liz asked. “I made a fresh pot. Seems a shame to let it go to waste.”

  Although she’d had enough coffee, Clare felt the need for company. She didn’t feel a need to talk, she realized; she just wanted someone to sit with her. Suddenly the thought of being alone seemed terrifying.

  Liz poured their coffee and sat down at the table.

  Clare tried to speak and couldn’t. Then Liz, who seemed to read the agony in her heart, reached across the table and touched her arm. Clare tried to hold back the tears, but it was too hard. She hurt too much.

  “Go ahead,” Liz said softly. “You don’t have to be strong anymore. Let it go.”

  Clare broke into sobs and felt the comforting arms of her friend around her.

  “May the hinges of friendship never grow rusty.”

  —Unknown

  Chapter 40

  THURSDAY MORNING BREAKFAST CLUB

  It was barely November, and already Christmas decorations were up. Clare pulled into the strip mall where Mocha Moments was located, noting that Liz Kenyon’s Seville was parked out front. Knowing her friend, Clare suspected Liz had ordered her croissant and coffee, and had their window table secured.

  The air was cool and damp this morning, with a breeze coming in from the Pacific, but Clare didn’t mind. The Santa Ana winds had dried out the valley these past few months, and the moisture was a refreshing change.

  Clare entered the coffee shop, waving to Liz, and read over the menu, although she always ordered the same thing. When the group had first started meeting, her double-shot espresso, bitter and strong, had match
ed her mood.

  “Espresso and currant scone, right?” the young man behind the counter said, obviously proud of his memory.

  “Normally yes, but I’m in the mood for something different this morning.”

  The teenager’s face showed surprise.

  “I’ll have a pecan roll and coffee,” she told him, deciding quickly. It was time for a change.

  “Coming right up,” he said, bouncing back with a cheerful smile.

  When her order was ready, Clare joined Liz and was followed only a couple of minutes later by Karen. Julia arrived last, with Zachary in his carrier; she set him in the middle of the table.

  They took turns peeking at the baby, wrapped in his exquisite hand-knit, yellow blanket. In some ways, this precious little boy belonged to the entire Thursday morning group. Like the other women, Clare had invested a great deal of emotion in Zachary. The infant’s successful struggle for life brought balance to the loss she had so recently suffered. She was thrilled to see that he was thriving.

  “It’s almost time for us to come up with another word for the year,” Liz said once they’d all sat down with their orders. “For next year, I mean.”

  “Already?” Clare protested. “You’re as bad as these mall people putting up Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving.”

  “What are we supposed to do with the word from this year?” Karen asked.

  “What was your word?” With so much on her mind, Clare had forgotten.

  “Acceptance,” Karen told her.

  “Did you learn anything from it?” This came from Liz.

  Karen took a sip of her peppermint-flavored latte and mulled over the question. “Yes, I think I have. A year ago, I was constantly arguing with my mother over which direction I should take. I was so sure I knew what was right for me. She thought I should be a teacher. Go figure.” Karen made a mocking face. “Then there was Victoria.” She paused, apparently thinking it all out. “When I chose acceptance, I wanted my mother to accept me for who I am. I wanted her to appreciate me.”

  “She apparently knows you better than you know yourself.”

  Karen nodded. “I never realized how much I’d enjoy a classroom, but I’m loving every minute of it. My mother has her annoying little habits, but then we all do. She only wants what’s best for me and for Victoria.”

  Clare exchanged a look with Liz. This was Karen speaking? Wow, what a difference in less than a year!

  “Over the last few months, I’ve learned that I needed to accept myself first. I wanted Mom to be proud of me, the way she was of my sister. At the same time, I resisted that feeling and tried to be as different from Victoria as possible.”

  “I don’t know what Victoria would have done without you,” Liz said.

  Karen dismissed the praise and seemed almost embarrassed by it. “She’s my sister.”

  “Get back to your word,” Julia urged. “I want to know what you learned.”

  “What I learned,” Karen repeated slowly. “Okay. I thought I wanted to act, to work in theater and film, and I do, but I don’t need to look for my self-worth in a credit scrolling down some screen. I’ve discovered something better.”

  “Teaching high-school drama classes,” Julia supplied.

  “No,” Karen teased, “regular meals.”

  They all laughed.

  “Being on stage is great fun, but sharing my love of the stage with others is even more compelling.”

  “That’s great.” Clare was genuinely pleased for her.

  “What’s the latest on your sister?” Liz asked.

  “Ah, yes,” Karen said, frowning. “As you already know, Roger’s serving a six-month jail term. Victoria’s seeing a counselor and with the help of my parents and Roger’s, she’s back in her own home. She loves her job selling commercial real estate, and seems to have a real knack for it. Mom and I are both confident that she’s going to be just fine.”

  “What about Bryce?” Julia asked.

  “He’s in a day care facility three days a week and my mother takes him on Monday and Fridays.”

  “Sounds like an excellent solution,” Liz said.

  “Is Victoria going to file for divorce?” Clare wanted to know.

  “I don’t think she’s decided yet,” Karen said. “She’d prefer not to go the divorce route, but she might not have any option. Naturally, the twit is saying all the right things—he would, with his job on the line—but Victoria needs proof that he’s changed first. They’ll continue living apart while Roger proves himself.”

  “I’d hate to see a repeat of the abuse.”

  “Victoria’s being very careful. She’s taking it nice and slow, and not making any major decisions until she’s had time to work everything through with her counselor.”

  “Good for her,” Liz said.

  Karen heaved a sigh. “There’s something else about acceptance. Glen and I are seriously discussing marriage.”

  “He proposed?” Julia cried excitedly.

  “Well…yes.”

  “And you’ve accepted,” Clare finished for her. Making the connection.

  Karen’s face beamed with happiness and she nodded. “He’s perfect for me. It’s amazing how well we balance each other. Oh, guys, I’m so in love.”

  “That’s the way it’s supposed to be,” Liz said. “When’s the wedding?”

  “May,” Karen informed them. “I already have my new word. Bride.”

  Clare exchanged smiles with Liz. It wouldn’t surprise her if next year Liz announced that she was marrying Dr. Jamison.

  “What was your word again, Liz?” Clare asked,

  “Time,” Liz reminded them. “Last January I hit a real low point in my life.”

  Clare remembered how lost Liz had been without her family around her.

  “It seemed as if all the good years had somehow slipped through my fingers. I felt as though time was disappearing and taking with it everything I’d wanted to accomplish and never would.” She frowned. “I suppose I was afraid of living the rest of my life alone. It was bad enough when I lost Steve, but then without the children around me, the loneliness seemed so much worse.”

  Clare would soon face that herself when both Mick and Alex left for college. The thought of coming home to an empty house every night filled her with dread, and yet the boys were so seldom there that in practical terms it woudn’t make much difference.

  “Do you still feel lonely?” Julia asked.

  “No.” Liz’s look was thoughtful. “Time is still a good word for me, but not for the reasons I assumed. This is my time. In the last twelve months, I’ve learned to relax and enjoy every single minute.”

  “You forgot to mention that it’s also your time to fall in love.”

  Liz smiled. “Falling in love,” she echoed. “I feel like I’m in high school again. Silly, isn’t it?”

  “No,” Julia insisted with a wistful sigh of her own. “I think it’s wonderful.”

  “And so unexpected,” Liz added. “I always said I didn’t need a man in my life and I don’t.”

  “But it’s certainly a bonus,” Karen piped up.

  “I think what stands out the most for me,” Liz said with a glimmer of amusement, “is that it takes a hell of a man to replace no man.”

  “What?” Karen asked, frowning. “I don’t get it.”

  “I do,” Clare said.

  “A hell of a man to replace no man,” Karen repeated thoughtfully, then slowly nodded. “I understand now. You discovered that you liked your life, and Dr. Jamison sort of complements the…the serenity you found all on your own.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Liz agreed.

  “Well, I’ve discovered I like my life, too,” Karen said, happiness shining in her eyes. “Who would’ve believed I’d marry a man my mother approved of? Certainly not me, and Mom’s wild about Glen. She thinks he’s the best thing that ever happened to me. Which he is.”

  “What about you, Clare?” Liz asked. “What wa
s your word for the year?”

  Talk about ironies. “Faithful,” she reminded her friends. “I chose it in anger on New Year’s Day. At the time, I was trapped in bitterness. I remember thinking I was the one who’d always been faithful—to Michael, to our family and to myself.”

  “You were faithful—right to the very end.” Julia’s voice was so quiet, the others had to strain to hear.

  “Yes,” Clare replied, “but not in the way I’d anticipated.”

  “I can’t tell you how much I admire what you did for Michael,” Liz told her.

  Clare looked away, embarrassed by the praise. A year ago she would’ve laughed in the face of anyone who dared to suggest she’d bring Michael back into the family home. Yet she had. She’d nursed him, loved him and together with her sons, she’d buried him.

  “I did learn a valuable lesson this year,” Clare said, struggling to keep the emotion out of her voice.

  “What was that?” Liz asked.

  She wasn’t sure she could adequately put her thoughts into words. “I hated Michael for what he’d done to me and the boys. I mean, I really hated him. I didn’t dare let any of you know how intense my anger with him was for fear you’d think I should be locked away.”

  Her friends silently studied her and Clare had the feeling that her confession hadn’t come as any big shock. They knew and had always known.

  “And I loved him,” she said. “Deeply and totally. Despite everything. In the end I forgave him—and I forgave myself. In ways I thought were impossible, I was faithful—to both of us. To what we’d been and…and to the people we really were.” Flustered, she waved her hand and looked away. “I’m not expressing myself very well.”

  “Yes, you are,” Liz countered, reaching for her hand and briefly squeezing it. “You’re making perfect sense.”