“Thank you.”
“Perhaps we should talk about him, too.”
“If you want to.”
“We should have at the conference and I knew it.”
“But that would have muddled our parent-teacher relationship, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, but that’s no excuse.”
“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself. We’re talking now and that’s what’s important.”
Claire reassessed. “Actually, we did quite well yesterday, considering what was going on beneath the surface, didn’t we?”
“Yes, we did.” Had they been friends, this admission would have been accompanied by a grin. As it was, they knew they would never be friends. But they could be allies in a different sense.
“About Kent ...” Claire said.
“He’s understandably hard for you to accept, I realize that.”
“But I must. I know that.”
“Yes, for your children’s sake.”
“And Tom’s.”
“And Tom’s. I know all three of the children want it, and I believe Tom does too. You probably know he’s been seeing Kent since the two of you have been apart. They’re trying to establish some sort of father-son relationship. But it’ll take time.”
“Time and cooperation from me, that’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”
“Mmm ... well, yes ... yes, it is.”
Silence fell once more. At the end of it, Claire was feeling even more comfortable with Monica. “I’ll tell you something I haven’t even told Tom yet. I’ve had a lot of time to think about how I’d handle it if I ever got back together with him, and I realized that this school year is really only a very small increment of time in terms of the years we’ll have in the future. Once the school year ends and Kent moves on to college, I think it’ll be easier for me to be objective about him. And I won’t lie to you and say that the wishes of my children don’t matter, because they do. If they want to get to know their brother, who am I to stand in their way?”
“Are you saying he’d be welcome in your house?”
It took some time to come up with an answer.
“Oh, Monica, you do put me on the spot.”
“Then, strike that question. Take it a day at a time.”
“Time ... yes. Good old time. It really does heal, doesn’t it?”
“I think it does, if you let it.”
“I guess it’s only fair to ask you—how did you feel about my children coming to your house?”
“Stunned. Then after I had a chance to get used to the idea, it didn’t seem so threatening anymore, especially given the fact that all three kids had already decided they were going to become friends anyway, no matter what their parents said. And by the way, since you’ve offered me a compliment on my kid, I should do the same for yours. They seem very nice.”
“Thank you.”
“So ... it’s up to you and me to smoke the proverbial peace pipe here.”
“And what good will it do us not to? We’ll only hurt ourselves.”
“Exactly.”
Claire blew out a breath: she was feeling better and better.
“What a couple of days these have been. Do you realize that just a little over twenty-four hours ago you walked up to my table in the gym with a pretty new hairdo and perky new makeup and I took one look at you and thought, If this woman's not in love with my husband, I’ll eat my grade book.”
“What in the world does a new hairdo have to do with it?”
“It’s silly. Someone told me once that you can always tell when a woman falls in love because she gets a new hairdo and starts looking prettier.”
“I got a new hairdo because I needed an emotional pick-me-up. It’s been pretty tense around our house too. I have to admit, it feels really good to have talked to you about all of this. Now if you’ll just say you’re going to go in there and patch it up with Tom, I’ll go home a rather satisfied woman.”
“Of course that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Good.” For the first time Monica offered a smile. It kindled in the luster from the dash lights while her eyes rested easy on Claire.
Claire smiled too. “Thank you, Monica.”
“Thank our children. They were much more courageous than me. I had to be led by them before I’d do the right thing.”
It was difficult to find a parting remark. Claire put her fingers on the door handle and looked back at the other woman. “Well, here goes.” She opened the door.
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. And good luck to you too. I really mean that.”
Their smiles took on a touch of verity now that they were parting. It struck them both that if they had met under any other circumstances, they would indeed have become very good friends, for in this short meeting they’d found much to respect in one another, a lionheartedness tempered by vulnerability, which—in both their minds—made them strong women capable of deep understanding.
“Take care,” Monica said, and Claire slammed the door.
She did not watch the car pull away but turned toward her home, where the three most important people in her world waited for her to come inside and make their lives right again. Dry autumn leaves were cartwheeling across the driveway. The stars were out, and she realized that tomorrow was Halloween. She’d neglected to get a pumpkin carved and set out on the front step, nor had she dug out the skeleton wind sock that usually waved from the bare branches of the ash tree, or bought com husks to surround the light pole the way everyone on the block did at this time of year—things she and Tom had always done together at this time of year.
Well, maybe tomorrow, she thought, for tomorrow they would awaken together.
Please, Lord.
*****
Inside, Tom was cooking supper. She stepped into the aroma of sandwiches browning on a griddle and the sound of a table being set. The moment she walked in, all motion ceased. Tom turned from the stove with a towel in his hands. The kids stalled with plates and silverware only half distributed.
Tom spoke first. “I hope it’s okay that I started making some grilled-cheese sandwiches.”
“Of course. It’s fine.”
“I couldn’t find anything else in the house.”
“I guess I haven’t been cooking much lately. I sort of lost my heart for it.”
They spoke with the breathlessness of a man and woman feeling their way, separated by an entire kitchen but locked in rapt absorption with each other. The children could have been on Mars for all the attention they received from their parents. Claire’s cheeks took on spots of pink. Tom had removed his suit jacket, and through his close-fitting white shirt the sharp rack of his breathing was clearly visible. He finally flinched and cleared his throat, as if realizing how long he and Claire had been staring at each other.
“Ah ... children ...” He glanced at them. “Would you please excuse your mother and me for just a minute?”
“Sure,” Chelsea said meekly, and very carefully set down the stack of plates.
“Sure,” Robby seconded, and set down his handful of silverware.
They left the room like a pair of obedient servants, nearly tiptoeing. In their wake the kitchen remained silent but for the quiet sizzle of the sandwiches on a Silverstone griddle and the sound of two people trying to control their breathing.
Claire stood just inside the entrance from the family room, still wearing her coat. Tom waited with the stove at his back, unconsciously gripping the small terry towel.
“What did she say?” he asked at last, in a voice like that of a prize fighter who’s just taken a kidney punch.
“She said, in essence, that I’ve been a damned fool.” He reached without looking, to drop the towel on the enamel stovetop behind him, but she was the one who did the running, straight into his arms, throwing him hard against the handle of the oven. They kissed the way immigrants kissed who had crossed oceans and prairies, endured hardships and separation to be together again. The embrace wa
s filled with wordless promise, and the pressure of tears withheld.
When the kiss ended, she clutched him against herself, blinking hard at the ceiling while her tears made silver tracks on her face. “Oh, Tom, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
“But you said it long ago, and I wouldn’t believe you.”
“Do you believe me now?”
“Yes! Not only do I believe you, I see how wrong I was. Dear God, I nearly tore this family apart for good.”
“Oh, Claire,” he whispered, and closed his eyes.
She turned to fit her forehead into the familiar cove of his jaw. “Please forgive me,” she whispered while her tears wet his shirtfront.
She felt him swallow and sensed his inability to speak at that moment, having been put through a spell of fear and come through it intact.
“Please forgive me, darling,” she whispered.
They embraced through a renascent stretch of silence, the house holding a still watch around them, as if this reunion were a sacrament. “I thought I’d lose everything I’d worked so hard for,” he whispered, “you, the kids, our home, everything I loved. I was so scared, Claire.”
“I’m so sorry I put you through that.”
“The trouble was, I knew that if that happened, it would be my own fault.”
“No, no, I’m just as much to blame, maybe more for not forgiving you for something that happened so long ago. Oh, Tom, I love you so much, and it’s so lonely and unrewarding being as stubborn as I’ve been.”
Their mouths joined, and he slipped his arms inside her coat to keep her, full-length, against his body. His hands took possession where they would, and hers followed suit. Several blissful minutes later Claire interrupted their idyll to murmur against his lips, “I think something’s burning.”
Tom’s head lifted, and in one quick leap he rattled the griddle onto a cold burner. “Damn it!” He switched off the heat. Stench and smoke rose from four ruined sandwiches.
Claire peered around him and inspected the spoils. “We sure fixed them, didn’t we?”
“And the refrigerator looking like everybody’s gone on vacation. I don’t know what we’re going to eat.” Twisting aside, he slung the burned sandwiches into the garbage disposal and leaned the pan against the side of the sink. All the while she clung to him like a barnacle, letting him move, but not too far.
“I have an idea,” she said when he’d finished rescuing them from fire and was concentrating on her again. “Why don’t we send the kids out to pick up some fast food?” He twined his fingers low on her spine and settled her hips against his. “I have a better idea. Why don’t we send the kids out for some slow food?”
She bit his chin and offered a provocative grin. “Why stop at slow food? How about a five-course dinner?”
“Well, hell, while we’re at it, how about a five-course dinner at Kincaid’s?”
Kincaid’s was in Bloomington, about a thirty-minute ride away. It was the top-rated restaurant in the Twin Cities and required a hefty wait without reservations. Tom and Claire had been talking about going there for over three years, but hadn’t made it yet.
They laughed, feeling the rhythm of their humor falling back into place.
“I suppose that would be just a little transparent, wouldn’t it?” Tom conceded.
Claire shrugged. “Chelsea would grin.”
“And Robby would take us up on it and it’d probably cost us about a hundred bucks.”
“So how are we going to get them out of the house?” He caught her around the neck with one arm and shifted her to his side. “Watch this.” Hauling her along with him to the foot of the stairs, he raised his voice and shouted up, “Hey, kids, will you come down here?”
They appeared in record time, negotiating the steps at breakneck pace, leaping down the last two, at the foot of which their dad waited with his arm slung nonchalantly around their mom’s neck.
Tom said, “Your mom and I want to be alone for a while. Any chance you’d take a bribe and go out and find yourselves some supper?”
Chelsea’s eyes brightened and she looked at her brother with sheer elation all over her face. “Heck, yes!”
Robby said, “How much do we get?”
Tom let his arm slip from Claire and brandished a fist. Robby doubled over to protect his middle before the mock punch landed.
“You little bloodsucker,” Tom teased. “I told your mom this would cost us money.”
“Well, heck, I wasn’t born yesterday, Dad. I can tell a vulnerable guy when I see one, and I know when to bleed him for all he’s worth.”
Tom pulled out his wallet and gave the kids thirty dollars. “Tell you what. Go out and get some supper, then find a movie somewhere. We don’t want you back here until at least ten o’clock ... agreed?”
“Sure, Dad.”
“Sure, Dad.” Chelsea glanced dubiously at her mother. “But I thought I was grounded.”
Claire told her, “We’ll talk about it later, after Dad and I have a chance to talk, okay?”
Chelsea nodded meekly.
Claire kissed Chelsea’s cheek, hugged Robby, then the kids left.
The moment the door slammed, the kitchen grew quiet. The smell of the burned cheese sandwiches lingered in the air. Claire and Tom faced each other with flushed cheeks.
He asked, point-blank, “What do you want to do first, talk or go to bed?”
She wanted to go to bed. Lord, she had not wanted him this badly since the forced abstinence of their first dating days. But now that they were alone, she was terrified of the ground they still needed to cover between sex and reconciliation.
“I’ll leave it up to you,” she answered. “I think I’m going to cry when we talk, though—just so you know.” He remained where he was, his face still highly colored though he banked his desires and posed questions first. “There’s only one thing I want to know. What did you do with John Handelman?”
“I kissed him. Once. That’s all.”
“All right,” he said, questioning her no further. “Then it’s behind us. Forgotten.”
“Even though I still have to get through another three weeks of play rehearsals with him?”
“I trust you.”
“I trust you too,” she replied. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize it.”
“Monica told you there’s nothing between us?”
“Yes, and much more—that there never was. She also said that the first time she talked to you about Kent, you told her that every year we were married just got better and better.”
“It’s true. Up until this year.”
“Can you understand what it did to me though, finding out about Kent? How it undermined my security?”
“Yes, Claire, I can. No matter what you thought, I was never insensitive to your hurt, but I didn’t know what I could do about it. I couldn’t undo the past.”
“I guess that’s what I expected of you, wasn’t it? Even though I knew it was impossible.”
“Is that what you still expect? Because I can’t. And Kent is very much a part of my plans for the future. You might as well know that right from the start. He’s my son, and I plan to be there for him from now on, as his father. If you can’t handle that, Claire, you’d better say so right now.” Her lips trembled as she whispered in a shaken voice, “Tom, may I please come over there and hold you? B ... because I don’t think I can get through this without your arms around me.”
They each moved halfway, meeting without the abandon of earlier. She walked into his loose embrace and felt his hands curve around her waist and his head drop over her shoulder. She lay her face against his shirtfront and folded her arms up his back. The moment they touched, her tears formed. He knew it. He understood. He simply held her and let the healing continue.
They stayed that way awhile, nestling gratefully, making vows in their heads, thinking of constancy, and the past that would have to be forgiven and forgotten if they were to make it. An
d the future, which would include some new wrinkles.
When Claire finally spoke, her voice had calmed some. “The children were together today ... here, in our house, all three of them. Did they tell you?”
Against her cheek she felt his heart beating wildly. “No, they didn’t,” he whispered.
“And afterwards at Monica’s house they decided it’s time they got to know each other.”
He closed his eyes and fought to control a sudden sting in his eyes.
“Oh, Claire, I can’t believe it,” he whispered, overcome.
“If Robby and Chelsea are willing to accept him, how can I do anything less?”
“Do you mean it, Claire?” He pulled back to study her face with its luminous tear-filled eyes and shiny lips, slightly puffed from crying earlier in Monica’s car.
“I’m going to try, Tom. It may take some time before I’m totally comfortable around him, but I’ll do my very best, that’s a promise.”
He lifted both hands to push back her hair and hold her face, his thumbs resting at the crests of her cheeks. “You’ve given me two children of our own, and I love you for being a good mother to them, so please don’t misunderstand what I’m about to say ... but, Claire, you’ve never given me a greater gift than what you just said.”
With her voice on the verge of breaking, she asked, “Why did it take me so long to come around to it? Why did I put our family through so much misery?”
He rested his forehead against hers. “Because you’re human, and you were scared, and because love isn’t perfect. We can love somebody very much and still make mistakes that hurt them.”
“I’m so sorry I hurt you,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry I hurt you too. The trick is to learn from what we’ve been through, and I think we have.”
“Yes, I think so.”
Gently, he kissed her forehead. The secondary issues—how to handle Chelsea, when Tom would move back home, how they would blend their future with their children’s—could be dealt with later. Now there was peace to be made, love to be restored.