Once Upon a Project (29 page)

Chapter 48

 

K
evin was waiting at a bench just inside the front door when Elyse arrived. He immediately got to his feet and held out his arms. “How about a hug for old time's sake?”

Elyse felt a flash of discomfort only for a second. After all, the whole point of her calling him was to put the kissing incident behind them and to show she had no hard feelings. She stepped into his arms and out of them within seconds.

“Thanks for meeting me,” she said.

“Thanks for calling me. I was beginning to think I'd lost an old friend.”

They followed the hostess to a booth. “That's the reason I called,” Elyse explained when they were seated. “I didn't think it was right to let one bad impulse put a damper on our friendship. I wanted to make things right.”

“I can't tell you how glad that makes me feel, Elyse. I'd pretty much given up on your ever talking to me again. Tell me, how's Franklin?”

“He's . . . he's not good.” She lowered her gaze. She'd spoken to her children about Franklin's prognosis, to her parents, and to her manager at work, but it still hurt to put it into words.

The waitress appeared, all perky and bright. “Hi. Are you ready to order?”

“Yes,” Elyse said, glad for the interruption. “I'll have the chicken quesadillas.”

“You can bring me a roast beef sandwich with the sauce,” Kevin said.

The waitress repeated the order and left.

“Now, what were you saying about Franklin?” he asked. “Is he still working?”

“No. We saw his oncologist last week. There's cancer in Franklin's liver and stomach, even in his bones.”

“Oh. Elyse, I don't know what to say. I'm sorry.”

A sob caught in her throat, and she covered her face with her hands, unable to hold back the tears. It had been such a difficult week.

Elyse had tried to be stoic, and while her posture showed no weakness, she sat there with uncontrollable tears running down her cheeks in rivulets. The worst that could possibly happen had just happened.

She found it inconceivable that he might not be alive a year from now, that this might be his last fall and winter on earth. Talking about his condition drove home the reality, and she sobbed harder, her tears wetting both her palms and her face.

She felt movement beside her. Kevin had slid into the booth. He rested her head on his shoulder. “Elyse,” he said simply.

“My husband is dying, Kevin. What am I supposed to do without him?”

“You'll do what every woman who loses her husband does. You'll find the strength to go on. The important thing is that he's still here now, Elyse. Take advantage of that.”

She nodded, then dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her cloth napkin. She took a deep breath. “I didn't mean to do that. We just found out last week. I haven't even told my friends yet. It hurts just to talk about it, to think about it. And I can't think of anything else.”

“I guess you can't. So this is why you called me?”

“I just got to thinking that if I were to leave this earth, I wouldn't want to leave behind any unfinished business. You've always been a good friend to me, Kevin.” She laughed. “Remember the time I had to pee on the way home from school when we were in the fourth grade?”

He chuckled. “You didn't even want to wait for your friends. You thought you could get home, but you wet your pants halfway there.”

“And you never told anybody. I've always appreciated that.” She'd always felt a special bond with Kevin because he'd kept her secret.

“I never understood why you didn't go before you left school.”

“Because I'd just gotten a special pass from the teacher to use the bathroom like, an hour before. I found out later that I had a UTI—that's a urinary tract infection. One of the symptoms is having to go frequently.” She laughed. “Thanks a lot, Kevin. I feel a lot better. If I can laugh now, I guess I'll still be able to laugh when . . . after . . .” She couldn't bring herself to put it into words.

He gave her arm a squeeze. “Are you sure you're all right, Elyse?”

Once more she nodded. She looked up and glanced at the people at surrounding tables, many of whom had been looking at her and quickly averted their eyes. “Okay. That's enough of that. I see I've already attracted unwanted attention.”

“I wish there was something I could do for you, Elyse.”

“I know. You're doing more than you know, just by keeping me company.”

“All right. I guess I'll move back to my side of the table.” With an arm around her, he gave her eyes one last dab with the napkin.

“Hello, Elyse.”

The stinging tone of the female voice signaled trouble. But nothing could have prepared Elyse for the sight of her stepdaughter, Rebecca, glaring at her.

“Rebecca!” she exclaimed, realizing too late that she should have taken a more subdued approach. Her shocked tone gave the impression that she'd just been caught doing something illicit, which, of course, she hadn't. But that look on Rebecca's face certainly gave away
her
thoughts.

This had all the makings of a disaster.

“Yes, it's me. I guess I'm just about the last person you expected to see . . . since my father is helpless at home.”

“Rebecca—”

Kevin quickly removed his arm from around Elyse's shoulder and stood up.

“Don't move on my account,” Rebecca said coldly.

Oh, fine,
Elyse thought. She and Franklin's kids had already had it out over his care. Now Rebecca was jumping to conclusions as casually as little girls jumped rope double Dutch.

“I was just getting up,” Kevin said easily. “Your stepmother was having a difficult moment, and I went to comfort her. You of all people have a better idea than most of what she's been going through.” He held out his hand. “Kevin Nash.”

Rebecca shook his hand limply. “Rebecca Reavis.”

“I'm an old friend of Elyse's,” Kevin explained. Elyse silently blessed him for trying to smooth things over. “We went all through school together. We haven't seen each other in years, and then a couple of months ago they had a reunion for people who used to live in the projects where we grew up.”

“And you were able to reconnect.” Rebecca met Elyse's worried gaze. “I guess that will make it easier for you, won't it? Just remember, you're not single
yet.
” She gave Kevin a scathing glance and moved on.

Elyse leaned back in her seat. “Great. Just what I needed.”

“I gather you and your stepdaughter don't get along too well,” Kevin guessed as he took a seat on the opposite side of the booth.

“We used to, in spite of her mother not being too happy about Franklin's remarrying and having a new family. She and her brother were still pretty young back then, and I won them over. But I've been butting heads with her and her brother ever since Franklin first went into the hospital. They feel like they have to have someone to blame for his illness, and I'm the one they chose. She'll get over it.” She touched her tear-streaked face with her fingertips. “Excuse me, Kevin. I'm going to go wash my face before our food comes.”

“Sure, go ahead. I'll take this call.” His cell phone was ringing, the ringtone being the “1812 Overture.”

He flipped open the phone as Elyse walked away. “Hello. Hey, man!” He listened as his would-be business partner explained that he'd won the baseball pool at work and had gotten a little closer to his goal. “That's great news. Congrats!” He paused as his friend asked him a question. “Yeah, I think I might be getting closer to that golden number myself. I just came into a stroke of good luck. You can say I've got to wait until somebody's out of the picture, but it shouldn't take long. Maybe a couple of months.”

Chapter 49

 

E
lyse entered her home, which looked as it always did. This time Franklin had not objected when she insisted that he have someone in the house to assist him, and they'd interviewed several candidates before deciding on a black woman in her early sixties named Winnie. Part of Winnie's duties included light housework, and she seemed to be doing a good job. Elyse noticed fresh vacuum tracks in the carpet, and the scent of furniture polish suggested that Winnie had also dusted. That was part of the reason why she and Franklin had decided to hire an older person; they tended to take more pride in their work. There wasn't much money in being a sitter, but caring for those unable to do for themselves was a vital position just the same. Winnie worked to supplement her pension from her bank teller job.

“Hello, Mrs. Reavis,” Winnie greeted. “I was just giving Mr. Reavis his pain pills.”

Elyse winced. Franklin was in such pain, and chances were that it would only get worse. “Hello, Winnie. Were there any calls today?”

“Yes. Your Number One son called this afternoon.”

Elyse's shoulders grew tense. Winnie distinguished Todd and Brontë from their older half siblings by designating them as Number Two son and daughter. Number One son meant Frankie. “He did? Did the call seem to upset Mr. Reavis?”

“Not that I could tell. Of course, I left the room right after I told him his son was calling.”

“I see. Well, thank you, Winnie.”

“If there's nothing else I'll be on my way.”

“That's fine. Good night, Winnie.”

Elyse wearily walked toward the master bedroom, the stress of the afternoon hitting her all of a sudden like a tidal wave. She paused at the entrance to knock on the open door. Franklin had been dozing.

“Well, what do you know,” he said. “I'm surprised you came back.”

She walked toward the bed. “And why would that be?”

“Why be bothered with a sick old man when you can have someone ten years younger who's in perfect health?”

“I see Rebecca called you.”

“Actually, it was Frankie who called. Rebecca told him about your lunch partner.”

“Franklin, that wasn't anyone but Kevin Nash. I've known him since kindergarten.”

“Is that supposed to present some kind of obstacle? ‘I can't possibly be having an affair with him. I've known him since kindergarten.'”

“I'm
not
having an affair with Kevin or anyone else,” she said, more sharply than she intended. “I ran into Kevin at the Dreiser reunion. You would have met him if you'd come with me.”

He flinched, and she immediately regretted her choice of words. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Of course you didn't come with me. You were ill, you just didn't know it yet. I'm just trying to tell you not to let anyone make you believe that I'm stepping out on you, Franklin.”

He turned away.

She sat on the edge of the bed. Franklin didn't turn over again, but nor did he say anything.

“My God, Franklin, what did Frankie tell you? All I was doing was having lunch with a friend.” Maybe that was it—Rebecca talked to Frankie, and then Frankie talked to Franklin. Things often got miscommunicated when passed through multiple channels.

“On the same side of the booth.”

“Yes, on the same side. But that was only temporary. I had sort of a meltdown—over you, I might add—and he came to sit on my side to calm me down.”

“Yeah, right. It was all my fault.”

“Franklin, are you saying you don't believe me? This is asinine! We've been married twenty-six years. If I tell you there was nothing to it, there was nothing to it. And quite frankly, I expect you to believe me, not some information you received thirdhand from Frankie.”

He glared at her. “Couldn't even wait until I was cold.”

That did it. She jumped up from the bed as if it had just burst into flames. “I don't deserve to be treated this way. Don't say another word to me unless it's an apology.” She left the room, slamming the door behind her.

The moment the door was closed she choked on the sob that rose from her throat. Damn Frankie and Rebecca for upsetting their father this way. What a couple of instigators they were.

Well, she wouldn't cry. That would mean they'd won, and she wasn't about to give up. If her stepchildren wanted to play dirty, she'd show them how tough she could be.

She stood still, listening for sounds of activity from the bedroom. Franklin might be calling out to her right now, ready to say that he was sorry and that of course he believed her.

Seconds ticked by. With a heavy heart she realized he had nothing to say to her. She turned around and placed her hand on the doorknob, but something stopped her from turning it. Franklin's health was failing, but he wasn't an invalid. He spent a good part of the day seated in a recliner. She'd look in on him in a half hour. If he wanted something that badly before then, let him get it himself. In the meantime, a little cool-off time wouldn't be a bad idea . . . for both of them.

Elyse glanced at her watch as she went to the kitchen. She browsed in the refrigerator before deciding she really didn't want anything to eat.

As far as something to drink, that was another matter entirely. She reached for a bottle of Chardonnay and after carefully removing the cork, poured herself a glass. Then she cut off a block of cream cheese and stirred some of the spicy roasted red pepper dip she always kept on hand into it. Using one hand to cup her glass and the other to hold the bowl of dip, while grasping a bag of pretzel sticks with her fingers, she plodded into the family room and placed it all on the table. Then she dug out the novel she was reading from her tote bag, kicked off her shoes, and settled down sideways on the cushy tan sofa, her sock-clad feet resting on the opposite end. Smooth jazz, courtesy of the cable radio station, would complete the scenario, and she didn't even have to get up to turn it on. All it took was a flick of the remote. If she wasn't so lazy she'd get a fire going in the fireplace. Franklin always used to do that....

Elyse bit her lip. She wasn't supposed to think about Franklin, at least not for the next half hour. No matter how she tried to convince herself, she would never leave him to fend for himself when he was ill. She kept hoping he'd come out and tell her he'd been wrong. But by now the pain medication Winnie had given him had probably put him to sleep.

She picked up her book and quickly became engrossed in it. She could relate to the character who'd lost her husband suddenly in a freak accident, but this poor woman found herself in a financial pinch. Thank God that wouldn't be her after Franklin was gone....

Elyse looked up. What was she thinking? Franklin was dying, yes. Dr. LeBlond told them to plan only for short-term survival, twelve to eighteen months at the most, and very possibly much less than that. Just this afternoon she'd cried when she told Kevin about it. Now, after one argument with Franklin, she could accept his impending death as matter-of-factly as the knowledge that they were almost out of green tea.

Franklin had never once complained about his fate. Instead he accepted it readily, feeling blessed because he had been chosen for death while she and all four of his children remained healthy. But he wasn't a saint. What she'd just seen a few minutes ago was his striking back against his misfortune, aided by the equally bitter Frankie. They all felt cheated by Franklin's disease and—Frankie, Rebecca, and Franklin himself—were taking it out on her. And that sucked.

Elyse had been reading for barely twenty minutes when she heard the chime of the door alarm. Someone with a key had entered the house.

She put the book down eagerly. Todd and Brontë had said they would drive up from Champaign early Saturday morning, but maybe they'd decided to surprise her and Franklin by coming up tonight. She rushed toward the front door. “Todd? Brontë? Is that you?”

A female figure stood with her back turned as she put the latch on the door. Elyse froze when she turned around.

“What are you doing here, Rebecca?” she demanded.

“I came to see Dad. He didn't tell you?”

“No.” The word came out as a whisper. Franklin had known all along that his daughter was coming. No wonder he didn't come out of their bedroom and apologize.

Rebecca shrugged. “It sounds like you two have a failure to communicate. But that's not my problem.” She began walking toward the master bedroom.

“No, it's just your responsibility.”

Rebecca paused. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that this morning when I left the house, everything was fine with Franklin and me. But you and your brother decided to fill his head with a lot of nonsense about me having an affair, and now we're not talking.”

“It wasn't nonsense, Elyse. I know what I saw, and so do you. It's Dad I'm thinking of.”

“Horseshit. I told you why Kevin was sitting on my side of the booth. He was just about to move back when you pounced on us. I've got a feeling that part was left out of your account of what you saw.” She grunted. “I don't understand why you would even want to rush to tell your father when you know it would only upset him.”

“I talked it over with Frankie, and we both feel that Pop deserves to know, Elyse.”

A possible reason for Rebecca and Frankie's behavior occurred to Elyse, and she looked at her stepdaughter through narrowed eyes. “Are you trying to get him to cut me out of his will?” If this was their goal, she had no doubt that their mother, Carolyn, was behind it. Carolyn had made a few catty remarks about how well off Elyse would be when she visited Franklin earlier in the year, which Elyse had simply dismissed as jealousy at the time. Now she considered that Carolyn had urged her children to manipulate Franklin.

“That's preposterous.”

Rebecca sounded just like Johnnie Cochran, Elyse thought. That had been a favorite phrase of the famed criminal defense attorney. Annoyed, she turned away.

Elyse had resumed reading when Rebecca came storming into the family room. “I'm glad I came over. My daddy is in his room, hungry and thirsty, and here you are, reading a book!

Startled, she quickly sat up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Dad's hungry. You didn't even go to see if he wanted anything. He told me you just stormed out and told him to fend for himself.”

“He said
what?
”

Rebecca glared at her. “You heard me.”

“Now, listen here, Rebecca. I won't have you taking that tone with me in my house. You either speak to me with a civil tone, or you can leave.”

“This is my father's house, and I have just as much right to be here as
your
children.”

Elyse gasped. She had never differentiated between her children and her stepchildren. Frankie and Rebecca always had a key to their home, so they could come by as they wished. The rule of “Please call before you come” was followed by all four offspring, just for the sake of privacy. It always stood for Frankie and Rebecca, who had never actually lived here; and it went into effect for Todd and Brontë when they left for college.

“If you'll excuse me,” Rebecca said coldly, “I have to take care of my father.” She turned and walked to the adjacent kitchen.

Elyse was so angry she felt there might be smoke coming out of her ears. Her first thought was to run to her room, throw a few clothing changes into a bag, and go check into a hotel. Just as quickly as the idea formed she vetoed it. Rebecca and Frankie would say she'd abandoned Franklin. If they were looking to increase the size of their inheritances by reducing hers, that would be all the ammunition they needed.

No, the best thing she could do was to stay right here. When she was ready to go to bed, she'd just go up and get on the left side, just like she always did. The king-sized mattress was large enough so she and Franklin could stay out of each other's way, yet she'd be there if he needed her.

Tomorrow would be better.

 

 

Elyse wasn't surprised to see Rebecca still around the next morning. Well, that was fine. Todd and Brontë were probably on their way up right now. At least she'd have someone on
her
side.

 

 

“Mom, what does Rebecca mean, you aren't taking care of Daddy?” Brontë asked, a frown marring her pretty face. A worried-looking Todd stood behind her.

Elyse sighed wearily. She hadn't expected it to take long for Rebecca to spread more gloom and doom. “Sit down, kids, and I'll tell you what's going on.”