Love Hurts (9 page)

“The story is bothering me because of the boy, I think. He wants to go home, Cliff. He wants his parents back despite what they did to him. I just don’t get it and I can’t get past that.”

Cliff leaned back in his chair and studied Anna. He suited his office. The dark wood of the walls looked beat up, not refined and elegant. The desk looked like the domain of an old-dog reporter. You could picture him pounding out a thousand stories on an ancient typewriter with a sticky t key. The shelves behind his head were filled with books on every subject imaginable. Cliff had eclectic taste in books and nearly everything else. The pictures on his walls were black and white, scenes of old news offices with reporters waving stories over their heads as they ran to stop the presses, a glassy-eyed reporter staying up late to finish his article. In Cliff’s office, Anna felt like she’d stepped back in time to an earlier, simpler age. An age when people had morals and everything made sense.

“It’s your past that’s bothering you.”

“What, you’re a psychiatrist now?” Anna joked.

“No, I mean it. What I think is that if you had been taken from her as a little child, you would still love your mother, too, and that bothers you. You love her still.”

She considered Cliff the father she’d never had. That was why he was the only one she’d ever told about her mother, although even Cliff didn’t know her identity. Anna shifted on her chair and tore the corner off her story. She crumpled it into a tiny ball in her hand while she considered Cliff’s words. Anna couldn’t just discount them like she might have with someone else. He never said anything he wouldn’t put his considerable weight behind.

“Maybe,” she conceded.

Before Cliff could reply, someone knocked at the door. He looked hard at Anna for a moment then said, “Just a minute. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

Anna could hear Paul asking if everything was okay.
So damn nosey.
Anna conceded that he probably thought he could help her. It took a lot of courage for anyone in their office to brave knocking at Cliff’s door. If they’d only taken the time to get past his gruff exterior, they would find the marshmallow center as Anna had.

Cliff barked something at Paul, and Anna felt sorry for him, grateful that he’d at least tried to help her.

Cliff closed the door with an impatient snap. “Your wanna-be boyfriend tried to rescue you from the dragon’s lair.”

Anna groaned. “Please don’t call him that. It’s humiliating enough that he follows me around like a puppy. He just won’t leave me alone!”

“Sorry. I’m a little irritated. Things aren’t going so smooth at home.” Cliff dropped into his chair, as though feeling every bit of his extra weight.

“How’s Connie?”

Cliff shook his head and sadness filled his face. “She’s not well at all. I think the end might be closer than any of us want to think.”

“No! I had no idea. I need to come see her.”

“She’d like that. Bring Matty. You know how he brightens her day.”

“I will, Cliff, I promise. I’ll phone first, though.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea.”

Anna leaned forward and patted his hand, and Cliff took her hand and gripped it hard.

“I’m so sorry this is happening to Connie,” Anna said. “She’s such a wonderful woman. Here I am burdening you …”

Cliff’s hand squeezed harder and Anna gasped with the sudden pain. “No, don’t ever think your problems are too trivial for me,” he said. “It helps to take my mind off what’s happening at home when I can help a friend.”

Anna squeezed back. “Thanks, Cliff. You’re a good friend.”

He let her hand go and gave it a quick pat. “So, you’ll go talk to Jilly?”

The thought took her breath away. Anna picked at the minuscule lint on her pants. “I don’t know. I guess I have to.”

“She needs you, even if she doesn’t think so right now.”

“I know, it’s just, well, you know Jilly.”

Cliff let out a bark of a laugh. “Yes, I know Jilly. She’s a terrific girl, but does she have a temper.”

Anna laughed too, remembering one Christmas when Cliff made a comment that got Jilly’s back up. They were discussing politics, despite Anna’s attempts to change the subject, and Cliff made a disparaging remark about, unbeknownst to him, Jilly’s favorite politician. She went up one side of him and down the other. Anna figured it had probably been the first time anyone dared to call Cliff a conservative lackey, and to his face. Cliff laughed at her, which at first made Jilly hotter, but eventually she calmed down and laughed with him. She apologized for her rudeness, but he said it was the most entertained he’d been in a long time. From that time on, they’d been great friends.

“Well,” Cliff slapped his meaty palm on his desk, “don’t forget to come and see Connie. I’m going to tell her you’re coming.”

“I won’t forget.” She gave him a wink and left the office. As soon as she entered the newsroom, as the staff liked to call it, even though it was just a big open area with cubicles like any other office, all eyes swiveled to survey the remains. She’d been in there longer than most people and they must have figured there’d be nothing left. Anna just looked down and headed for her desk. They could just keep on wondering.

Chapter 9

Jilly’s friend Amanda would soon arrive for their coffee date and the house looked terrible. Jilly threw an armload of clothes in front of the washing machine and closed the laundry room door. She raced around the house, picking up Matthew’s toys and Gregg’s clothes and stuffing them wherever she could find a hiding spot. She had gotten so caught up in a novel that she hadn’t noticed the time flying by, and now it was almost too late to fix anything.

Jilly had taken the week off work and kept Matthew home from daycare. She’d enjoyed the break.
Maybe a little too much.

“Mommy,” Matthew’s voice called out from his bedroom where he should have been taking a nap. Jilly gritted her teeth.

“What Matthew? Mommy’s busy right now,” she called to him as she went into the kitchen to deal with the mess from lunch.

“I need a drink,” he called back, his voice plaintive.

Jilly let out a huff of frustration, grabbed a glass and filled it from the water cooler. She opened his door, tripped over a stuffed alligator in the doorway and spilled the entire glass of water on Matthew’s carpet.

“Shit!”

Matthew shot up in his bed. “Mommy said a bad word.”

Jilly silently counted to five and when she could control her voice said, “Sorry, honey. Mommy didn’t mean to. I’ll get you more water.”

Matthew put his arms out to her. “It’s okay, Mommy. I don’t need water. Just a hug.”

As she gazed at her son’s loving face, the messy house, spilled water, and soon-to-arrive guest didn’t matter. She had a son who loved her no matter what she did, and he became the most important thing in her life at that moment. Jilly sat on the edge of Matthew’s bed and pulled him into her arms. His warm body wrapped around hers and he tucked his soft hair under her chin. Within a minute he’d gone limp. She kissed his hair, put him in his bed and tucked his Spiderman blanket under his chin. He had only been in her life for four years, but he had become more important to her than air.
 

Jilly answered the door with a smile, amazed at how Matthew could change her mood in an instant.

Amanda had gone, Matthew still slept, and Gregg hadn’t yet come home from work. The house needed cleaning, dinner needed preparing and there were any number of other little chores she should have been doing, but Jilly instead picked up the novel from where she’d tossed it earlier. She convinced herself that she would only read a few pages and then she’d get all the other things done.

The door opened, and Jilly looked up in shock. She knew with perfect clarity that she’d read long past her few pages, and Gregg was even late coming home from work.
Shit!
Gregg will be mad.

Jilly tucked the novel under the couch and got up, scrambling for an excuse. Gregg came around the corner and saw her standing in the middle of the living room.

“Hey honey, how was your day?”

“Fine.”

Gregg pulled her into his arms and gave her a thorough kiss. “Missed you.”

“Me too,” Jilly smiled into Gregg’s dark brown eyes. “I’m sorry dinner isn’t ready yet.”

“Ah, that’s okay. Want some help?” Gregg dropped his briefcase beside the sofa and turned toward the kitchen.
 

Jilly shook her head. Why, even after all these years, did she still act as though Gregg would treat her badly, when he was always understanding and kind?
What is wrong with me?

They cooked dinner side-by-side until Matthew came out of his bedroom with sleepy eyes. Jilly instantly felt guilty that she’d let him sleep so long. Gregg must have anticipated it because he said, “Nice that you let him sleep later today. I can spend more time with him tonight. I don’t have to go to work so early tomorrow.”

“Daddy!” Matthew ran to Gregg and launched himself at his legs. “Wanna wrestle?”

Gregg laughed and ruffled Matthew’s hair. “How about after dinner? We need our strength, eh?”

“Okay.” Matthew climbed into his chair with the special booster seat. “What’s for dinner, Mommy?”

Jilly set his plate in front of him. “It’s your favorite, spaghetti.”

“Sgabetti!” Matthew crowed and grabbed his fork.

“Hold on, partner,” Gregg admonished. “Wait till Mommy and I have our dinner.”

Gregg and Jilly seated themselves, and Gregg poured them each a glass of wine then some milk for Matthew. All the while, Matthew wiggled in his chair, staring at his plate.

“Gregg?” Jilly whispered.

He grinned at her. “Okay, son, go ahead and eat.”

Matthew dug in with relish, soon smearing the red sauce from chin to forehead. Jilly always marveled at his enjoyment of food and how he managed to get it into every nook and cranny. Sometimes she imagined he would love to climb right into the plate and enjoy it with his whole body.

“Anything interesting happen today?” Gregg asked then took a sip of his wine.

“No, not really. You remember my old friend, Amanda?”

Gregg nodded.

“She was in town, so she came over for a while. We had a nice visit.”

“Anything else happen?”

“No. Not really. I read a lot today.” Jilly looked at her plate, feeling her cheeks heat up.

“That’s nice. What book?”

Jilly looked at Gregg, expecting him to have an irritated look, but he just wore his normal serene expression. She told him about the book and they discussed the plot while they finished their dinner. Matthew interrupted them as soon as he’d finished bathing in his spaghetti.
 

“Done.”

Gregg turned to his son. “What do you say to your Mommy, Matty?”

“Tanks Mommy for the sgabetti.”

“Was it good?” Gregg prompted.

“Mmmmm.” Matthew rubbed his tummy, now including his shirt in the mess.

Gregg and Jilly laughed, then she got up to clean her son.

That night, as they lay in bed, Gregg asked, “Do you feel guilty when you do something for yourself?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“Because every time you don’t spend the day working or cleaning the house or doing something useful, you get this look on your face. It’s like you’re afraid I’m going to be mad at you if you don’t do everything perfect. You’ve known me a long time and still you make me feel like an ogre.”

Jilly stared at the ceiling, tears pooling around her ears.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I do that. You’re not an ogre. You’re a good man.”

Gregg pulled Jilly into his arms and tucked her head under his chin. “What happened to you, honey?”

She stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what happened to you as a little girl that makes you feel everyone is judging you, blaming you?”

Gregg waited for her to speak, but she said nothing. “Honey, please, talk to me.”

“I can’t talk about it.”

“I think if you do, it will help.”

“Well, that doesn’t matter because I can’t.” Jilly tried to move away, but Gregg tightened his arms around her.

“Please, don’t push me out. You can trust me, you know that. You’re safe.”

The tears came in a rush, soon soaking Gregg’s bare chest. Jilly sobbed and Gregg held her tighter, the two of them entwined in their bed.

The tears stopped, and Jilly rolled over to grab her box of tissues. This time Gregg let her go. After she’d mopped up, including Gregg’s chest, he asked her again, “Are you going to tell me?”

Jilly sat up and leaned against the headboard, her body turned toward the wall opposite the bed. “It’s water under the bridge, Gregg.”