Mine (23 page)

*

Courtney tried hard to busy herself on Saturday, doing little jobs around the house, going to a movie alone, working diligently to not think about how she might very well have blown it with Rachel. Even now, she didn’t quite understand how or why it was that she couldn’t get Theresa out of her head Thursday night, why she couldn’t set her guilt and memories aside and just enjoy the moment, live in the now. It was frustrating, to say the least.

She’d taken Amelia’s advice and called. She’d left two messages on Rachel’s cell phone Friday. While dialing for a third time, she decided she was starting to project desperation and hung up before the call went through. Plus, she knew that Rachel almost always had her cell with her, and the fact that she hadn’t picked up either of Courtney’s first two calls might very well have been a hint that Courtney just didn’t want to take.

After the movie, she decided to go for a walk down Park Avenue and do a little window shopping. If she were to be honest, she’d say that she was well aware that it was Rachel’s neighborhood and that she almost hoped to run into her, but the chances of that actually happening were slim to none, since she knew Rachel was at the hospital with her sister today. That didn’t mean Courtney wasn’t disappointed as she entered the nearest Starbucks to get herself a latte. She
was
disappointed and she felt a little…lost.

The clientele was sparse and she took a table near the window to do some people-watching and be alone with her thoughts, despite her attempts to banish them. She was only on her second sip when Peter, her former therapist, strolled through the door. She watched with a smile as he placed his order. He didn’t see her until he’d moved down the counter and was waiting for his drink. He gave a surprised wave and headed her way once his cup was in hand.

“If it isn’t one of my favorite clients,” he said with a warm grin.

“Care to join me?” Courtney asked, gesturing at the chair across from her. “Or is that a no-no in your line of work?”

“It’s only a no-no if I’m currently treating you. Which I’m not.” He took a seat. “How are you?”

“I’m doing okay. I love my new house.”

“That’s great. You made it through the move okay, I take it?”

“It was a difficult day, I won’t lie to you. But I survived.”

“Survival is good.”

Courtney nodded and sipped her latte.

“Did you stay with group?” Peter asked.

Courtney grinned at him. “I wondered if you’d get to that. Yes, I’ve stayed with it. I met a wonderful woman there who’s become a good friend, so going was worth it.”

“Fantastic. And are you seeing anybody?”

A laugh burst forth out of Courtney’s mouth. “You know, I didn’t ask you to sit with me so we could have a session.”

Peter had the good sense to blush. He was a friendly looking man with a little more paunch than he was probably comfortable with. His round face tinted pink and he broke eye contact for the first time. He chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I’m sorry. It’s a bad habit. I always want to know what’s going on with people.”

“It’s what makes you great at your job,” Courtney reassured him, feeling a bit guilty for embarrassing him. “And I am seeing somebody. Sort of.”

“Really? Do tell.”

In less than fifteen minutes, she’d blurted out the entire story of meeting Rachel, dating Rachel, and attempting to sleep with Rachel. She ended with her inability to get Rachel on the phone, adding that she was kind of relieved because she wasn’t sure what she’d say to her anyway.

Peter listened intently, his brown eyes on her the whole time. He nodded periodically, taking it all in. When she finished, he gazed into his cup for several long minutes and Courtney knew he was formulating his reply to her. She laughed.

“We’re not having a session, remember? You don’t have to find the right wording so you help me without actually telling me what to do.” Her laughter faded away and her voice softened. “Just tell me what to do, Peter. Please?”

“Keep your eyes open.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that she just blinked at him. “What?”

“Keep your eyes open.” She shot him a look of confusion so he’d elaborate. “You like this woman. It’s obvious in the way you talk about her, the way you describe her. Is she very different than Theresa? Absolutely. They’re almost polar opposites, but that’s what’s drawing you...the difference, the change. I don’t know Rachel and I’ve never met her, but from what you’ve just told me, she sounds like a pretty good match. You have to be up-front with her about everything you’re feeling, everything that’s giving you pause. You have to in order to give her a fair shot, to level the playing field. She’s playing in the dark right now because you’re not telling her what’s going on in your head. She’s having to figure it out on her own, do some guessing, and that can be a really scary prospect for somebody because…what if she’s wrong? You have to trust her enough to talk to her.” He took a sip of his coffee. “And you have to keep your eyes open.
See
her. See
her
.”

Could it really be that simple? Courtney knew that, for the most part, people tended to make life way more complicated than necessary, that things were almost always much simpler than anybody suspected. She chewed on the inside of her lip as she pondered Peter’s words.

See her.

Courtney sat at the table for another half hour after Peter left, just thinking about what he’d said, what it meant, what she could possibly do next. Her thoughts were such a jumble, she wanted to scream. Deciding against doing so in a public place, she tossed her trash and headed outside to walk it off, despite the nippiness of the late-autumn air.

She’d always thought of herself as a good communicator. She and Theresa had been one of those couples that others envied because they rarely fought. Courtney chalked that up to their ability to talk, to iron things out before they became irreversibly wrinkled, simply by being honest about their feelings. Realizing now that Peter was right, she wondered why it was that she had such a hard time opening up to Rachel and telling her exactly what thoughts were swirling around in her brain. She was concentrating on this train of thought when she absently heard somebody call her name. She stopped short, and the woman behind her bumped right into her.

“Sorry,” she muttered as she went around Courtney.

“Courtney,” a male voice called again. “Over here.”

Squinting, Courtney could see a hand waving in the air across the street. After a moment, she recognized Ted from group standing on the corner with a woman. As she crossed, she saw that they were eating ice cream.

“Kind of a strange snack choice for this time of year,” she said with a grin as she reached the pair.

Ted chuckled. He looked good, Courtney noted. Happy. His cheeks were flushed and his expression was glowing with pride. “We’re celebrating,” he said. Remembering his manners, he gestured to the woman standing next to him. She was small, maybe in her late forties or early fifties, with chestnut brown hair and kind brown eyes. “This is my girlfriend, Marie. Marie, this is my friend Courtney. From group.”

Marie pulled off her light fleece glove and shook hands with Courtney. “It’s nice to meet you, Courtney. Ted has told me a lot about you.”

“All good, I hope,” Courtney said, returning the smile. “What are you celebrating?”

Ted beamed. “I’m a grandfather.”

“What?” Ted’s face was so proud and smiling that Courtney couldn’t help but throw her arms around him and give him a hug. “That’s fantastic! Good for you. When did it happen?”

“This morning,” Ted said, still grinning as he looked from Marie to Courtney and relayed a little bit of the story. Courtney glanced over his shoulder as he spoke and squinted at the familiar face approaching from down the street.

“Rachel?” Courtney waved, astonished by the relief and happiness that flooded her as Rachel met her eyes. She motioned to her, waving her forward, and when a gentle smile crossed Rachel’s face, Courtney’s relief loomed even larger. God, it was good to see her.

Ted must have noticed that Courtney’s attention was no longer on his face and he turned to follow her gaze.

“I’m sorry, Ted. I don’t mean to be rude. I just see somebody I was worried about.” Focused on Rachel, she bubbled, “Hi.” As Rachel’s eyes landed on Ted and her pace inexplicably slowed, Courtney grabbed her arm and pulled her closer, gesturing to him. “I’d like you to meet Ted. He’s a friend of mine from my bereavement group.”

Rachel seemed unable to form any words. Courtney frowned, puzzled, as she watched the play of emotions that moved across Rachel’s face.

“Rachel? Are you okay?” she asked with concern.

“I…I’m sorry. I have to go.” Before anybody could say anything more, Rachel turned and darted across the street, ignoring the honking horn of the car that nearly ran her down, walking as fast as possible without actually running.

Courtney stood staring after her, uncertain whether she should chase after her or leave her be. At a complete loss and more than a little embarrassed, she uttered to nobody in particular, “What the hell was that?”

Ted still stood next to her, his gaze staring off in the same direction as Courtney’s. “That was my daughter.”

*

Slamming the apartment door behind her, chest heaving as if she’d just outrun some horrific monster that chased her down the hall, Rachel willed her heart rate to slow. She tossed her keys and cell phone onto the nearby stand and took deep, even breaths. Her attempts to focus on her own living room, her own familiar surroundings, failed.

“What the hell is going on with me?” she asked aloud, pressing her hands to her head, baffled by the discord and turmoil roiling inside her gut. She’d felt completely and utterly confused all day. Out of control. Overly emotional. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so open and vulnerable, like she was walking around made of glass and everybody could peer into her and see exactly what she was thinking and feeling. Actually—scratch that—she
could
remember the last time. It was twenty-five years ago when her father left. She’d never seen it coming, couldn’t believe her father didn’t want to be with her and Emily anymore, and had no idea what to do about her solid, dependable mother who had instantly become a crumbled, decimated shell of her former self. Thirteen-year-old Rachel found that she’d become the man of the house overnight.

It was as if the birth of her niece had somehow opened a hole in her, exposing the vulnerabilities she’d worked so hard all her life to conceal, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out how to close it back up. When her tears began to flow in the delivery room, she’d had trouble stopping them. They continued to roll down her cheeks even after the nurses had placed the baby in Emily’s arms, even after they’d whisked her away to be cleaned up and swaddled, even when she, Em, Greg, and everybody else in the world took turns in the small hospital room waiting to see the baby. With no idea how to stop the sudden horror that she was spilling emotion all over the floor, she’d given in to the alarmingly panicked urge to get the hell out, to get away, to run as fast as possible before somebody saw inside her, saw her as weak, saw her utter lack of control. She thought walking would clear her head, thought the crisp chill to the air would snap her out of it, but instead, she felt worse, felt like she was completely losing her mind.

When she held her hand out in front of her, her fingers shook like leaves in the breeze.
Focus. I need to focus. I need to calm myself, to steady my nerves.

Moving quickly, she headed for the nearest solution: the dining room and the wine rack. She knew that a drink would probably help to calm her down, and that’s what she needed right now. Some calm. She pulled the nearest bottle out, barely registering the label. Then her eyes fell on the Groth that Courtney had pointed out during her visit.

“It’s absolutely Special Occasion Wine. Save it.”

Rachel grabbed the neck of the bottle and pulled it out of the rack. “I have a new niece, my father is apparently buddies with the woman I’m seeing, and I think I’m very possibly going insane,” she said to the wine. “I’d say those are pretty special occasions.” She opened a drawer and withdrew a shiny, futuristic-looking corkscrew. Within seconds, the bottle was open and she poured a glass, admiring the crimson color, the earthy, zesty smell. When the liquid reached her lips, she closed her eyes and savored the flavors that burst forth on her tongue. Courtney was right. This was definitely special wine, worth the wait.

Courtney…

Courtney knew Rachel’s father. From
bereavement group
. That was definitely not something Rachel had seen coming. Her father was in a bereavement group? What the hell for? A split second later, guilt taunted her, teased her, asked her how cold she could possibly be to not have any sympathy at all for a man who’d lost his wife so young.

To silence the nagging, she took a bigger gulp of wine. Bottle and glass in hand, she made her way into the living room, where she flopped down onto the couch and let herself sink into the cushions. For the first time in more than two decades, she felt that she was dangerously close to falling apart and had no idea what to do about it. Another swallow of wine seemed to be the best solution.

Almost an hour later, she had slid to the floor, her legs straight out in front of her underneath the coffee table, her back against the front of the couch. As she poured the last of the wine into her glass, a knock on the door made her jump and she spilled some onto the oak and glass table.

“Damn it,” she grumbled, trying to get her legs out from under the table to find a paper towel.

The knock repeated. “Rachel?” It was Jeff. “You okay?”

Before she could reply, her knee bumped the underside of the table and both the wine and the empty bottle fell over with the loud crash of glass on glass.

“Shit.”

“Rachel? I’m coming in.” Jeff’s concern was evident in his tone. The door swung open and he took in the sight before him. Biting his lip only barely kept him from laughing.