October 10th
Sarah put the last package of winter squash in the chest freezer, closed the lid and wiped a curl from her forehead. Done for another year, she thought, and heard the front door bang shut. Only one person ever made that much noise on arrival, but it was early for him to show up . . . With a frown she left the mudroom and went into the kitchen. Greg had just come in. He moved slowly, shoulders hunched under his pea jacket. Sarah came forward to meet him. "Morning," she said. "You're up early."
He grunted and shrugged out of his jacket. Sarah took it, hung it on a peg by the back door and waved her free hand at the coffeemaker. "Help yourself. There are fresh muffins if you want some."
"What, no hash browns?" He took a mug from her collection and filled it with coffee.
"Not this morning. I can fry you an egg instead if you like." Sarah swallowed the last of her tea and rinsed out the mug. Greg didn't answer, just sat at the breakfast island, snagged a muffin from the lined basket and took an enormous bite, to scatter crumbs everywhere. Well used to his ways, Sarah located a small plate and placed it in front of him along with a napkin, the butter dish and a knife.
"What's up?" She sensed something, some struggle within him, that she couldn't quite define. "You and Roz have a tough morning?"
"Nosey parker," he said, his voice muffled by food.
"Don't talk and eat at the same time," Sarah said. Greg glared at her, but she saw a slight twinkle of grudging amusement in the vivid blue depths at the familiar exchange. "So? What happened?"
"Nothing. We're fine. Well, not fine fine, but we didn't trash each other to start the day." Greg polished off his first muffin and reached for another one.
"And yet . . ." Sarah let the sentence dangle. Greg said nothing. Instead he split the muffin in half and spread a thick layer of butter over each cut side. Sarah didn't push. She knew he'd continue to tease her until he was ready to talk. He downed a sizeable swallow of coffee and contemplated the half he was about to demolish.
"You know, the lemon peel in these things really brings out the flavor of the blueberries."
"Thanks, glad you like it." Sarah began to rinse the pan she'd used to cook the squash.
"This is the recipe you're using to go after Rick," Greg said. "It's not good enough."
Sarah paused and turned to look at him. "What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing. That's why it won't win."
She put some soap in the pan and ran water, watching suds bloom. "You mean it's too boring."
"It's too perfect."
"Ah. It doesn't stand out."
Greg nodded and hogged another bite. Sarah picked up the sponge and began to clean the pan. "So what would you recommend, Ye Source of Muffin Wisdom?"
He swallowed and chose another victim from the basket. "You said something about eggs earlier."
"Doesn't your wife feed you? I swear you have a tapeworm," Sarah said, but she abandoned the pan momentarily to put the skillet on. "You gonna tell me what you think would work or not?"
"Savory," Greg said, and slathered butter on the muffin. "A pinch of basil. Maybe a little thyme. Just enough to catch your attention, not enough to overwhelm the other tastes."
"Huh," Sarah said, impressed. She cracked three eggs into a measuring cup and beat them together. "Okay, I'll try it."
"You win, you split the prize with me," Greg said. He gulped the last of his coffee and dumped crumbs everywhere as he got up to get another cup. Sarah poured the eggs into the hot skillet and gave them a stir.
"Half a hundred bucks, that's quite a haul," she said wryly. Greg peered at her as he stirred sugar into his mug.
"You can't be that hard up for money," he said, his words sharp. Sarah smiled a little as she took a clean bowl from the dishrack and set it by the skillet.
"No, of course not."
"Then you're planning on using your ill-gotten gain for something else." He watched as she put the scrambled eggs into the bowl.
"There's always a good use for money in this household," Sarah said. She took a fork out of the silverware drawer, stuck it in the eggs and pushed the bowl toward Greg. "I have any number of projects going that need an infusion of cash."
Greg began to eat the eggs. "Hah," he said, and reached for the pepper.
"Hah yourself," Sarah said. She worked on the pan. "How come you're up so early? You don't get out of bed before ten thirty on workdays."
He didn't answer right away. "I was awake."
"Your leg?"
"Yeah." He swallowed noisily. "And my wife. Both are bothering me."
"How so?" Sarah rinsed the pan and started on the utensils. "Do you need to talk with Gene about your meds?"
"Only if he's got anti-psychotics in his samples drawer."
Sarah turned her head to send Greg a look. "That bad?"
He poked at the eggs with his fork, his gaze bent down, but not before Sarah saw the defiance and fear in his features. She put down the spoon she cleaned, wiped her hands on her apron, then came over to sit down next to him. She put a hand on his knee. "Tell me."
Greg didn't speak for some time. Then he spoke, so quietly Sarah could barely hear him. "I'm gonna lose her." The deep anxiety in his words caught at her. "I'm gonna lose her, Sarah. I know it."
She waited. He sat still, his habitual restlessness gone for the moment. "I know she wants to try to keep us together, but I . . . there's just something in me that pushes people away."
"What else?" she said when he fell silent. He snorted.
"What else is there?"
"A lot." Sarah took his hand in hers. He didn't resist, didn't look at her. "Love is something that we do, son. You have to renew it every day, and it takes work. There are times when that work is the most difficult thing you've ever done, or will do. This is one of those times for both you and Roz." She paused. "Do you remember how you felt when you decided to marry her?"
He nodded. "It was the right thing to do. I knew it . . . just knew. Like a diagnosis coming together, everything sliding into place."
"Exactly. And that hasn't changed. But you have old voices in your head, telling you this won't work because it's never worked in the past. Things are different now though." She let him think it through.
"You mean because she wants it to work." His hesitancy made Sarah's heart ache. She set the feeling aside.
"Yes, but you want it too. Roz loves you with everything in her," she said softly. "You're two independent and strong people, but you can work together and bring your strengths and your weaknesses to each other, in friendship and in love. You and Roz are just starting out so there are bound to be mistakes, bumps in the road. Keep going, it gets better. Gene and I have had tough times . . ." She paused. "I left him once. It was the worst mistake I've ever made, even worse than—than the pregnancy." Greg lifted his gaze to hers. He said nothing, but she saw the question there and sighed softly. "It was early on in our marriage. We'd had a bad fight over his family and I said some terrible things that hurt him deeply. I was convinced he'd be better off without me, so I just—left. Three days later he found me-he hadn't slept in all that time, hadn't even changed his clothes . . . I thought for sure he'd blast me good and proper and leave, but he didn't. He sat next to me on the bed, took my hands in his, and asked me to come home because he wouldn't go back to our place without me." She shook her head and snorted softly. "Fool man, takin' me on when I was such a mess, but he loved me enough to want to work things out. He forgave the pain I caused him because it was worth more to him to keep our love than to keep a scorecard, and he's never held it against me to this day. No one had ever done that before. It changed everything because it caught me up with where he already was in the relationship." She squeezed Greg's hand gently. "You won't lose Roz unless you decide that's what's going to happen. It's not inevitable, son. It's a choice. So choose to stay with her. You won't regret it."
When she stood he did as well. He reached out just a little, a hesitant gesture. Sarah moved forward and embraced him, gently brought him close. He accepted her touch; his arm slid awkwardly around her waist. She felt him relax a bit, as his cheek rested against her hair. "It'll be all right," she said softly. "You'll see."
He exhaled, a slow, quiet breath, and then let go. Sarah released him, but not before she gave his back a little pat. "Finish your breakfast," she said. "I'll make your lunch."
"Wow, thanks Mom," he said, but the sarcastic emphasis on her title was much less harsh than usual. She smiled at him and got the lunch meat out of the fridge.
"Roast beef or salami?"
An hour or so later, after Greg had headed off to work, Sarah sat down to make out her grocery list. She'd left her purse in its usual spot on the dining room table; she pulled it toward her and rummaged for a pen, then paused. The front compartment zipper was pulled back just enough to allow a couple of fingers in. With care she opened it further and saw her wallet in its usual spot—but the receipts she kept in the side pocket were gone.
Someone had himself a little fishing expedition, she thought, both amused and exasperated by Greg's insatiable curiosity. But when did he do it? He was with me the entire time . . . Comprehension dawned. He knows I know when he's here by the way he bangs the door. I bet he snuck in a few minutes before that and went through my purse, then went back and came in the house again. And then he staged that whole emotional display to distract me . . . though he meant it, he didn't lie. He knew a less-than-honest exchange would tell me something was up. That stinker. She shook her head and dug out her cell phone to send a text message to Roz, one they'd decided on in case Greg began to pry into their secret.
hey sis it's a go love S
[H]
Roz pulled into the drive next to Minnie Lou and put the truck in park, then shut off the engine. "You know, we don't have to do this," she said. It had been a quiet ride from their place to the clinic; Greg had mostly looked out the window, silent and impassive. She hadn't gotten a sense of anger or resentment, but he plainly wasn't too thrilled either.
"I own the place and it's a board meeting," Greg said. "I do have to do this. You don't though."
It hurt. She couldn't help it, it hurt. "No, I don't," she said, and struggled not to feel pushed away. "It's my choice to support my husband." She didn't try to touch him, though it was hard to resist. He looked vulnerable and lonely, until he turned his head to stare at her. His expression was unreadable, but she had the feeling she'd surprised him somehow.
"'kay," he said at last, and opened the door.
Gene and Sarah waited inside. They'd brought a card table, a couple of small lamps, Gene's iPod with a pair of mini-speakers and some chairs; a plate of cookies, several bottles of iced tea and a bowl of pretzels sat in the middle of the table. Music played softly, something funky and exactly right for the occasion. Roz smiled a little. That was Sarah's idea, no doubt. She always made sure the people around her were provided for and comfortable. The room looked far more inviting in the soft light of the lamps.
"Will's gonna be here too," Sarah said as Gene held up his phone. "So we have a full board meeting."
Greg took a chair and sat down slowly. He'd relaxed a little, but he was still anxious. Roz selected a seat and started to move it back from the table.
"You're here, you should sit with us," Greg said. His tone was harsh, but Roz caught the glance he flashed at her—equal parts plea and demand. So she sat at the table and made sure she was close to him.
"Everyone settled?" Sarah asked. She took a bottle of iced tea and opened it while Gene took a handful of pretzels. "Let's get Will on speaker phone and begin."
"Hey," Will said a minute or two later. "You need wi-fi, put that on the list."
"First things first," Greg said. He took a couple of pretzels. Roz saw his knee bounce, but it was to the beat of the music. "We're here to figure out where we stand now and what still needs doing." He glanced at Roz. "How close are we to wired up?"
" About two-thirds done," she said. "Mostly small stuff now, and the lab."
"Yeah, about the lab," Will said. "That's my baby. I have the money for what you need, no problem."
Greg hadn't expected that. "We're not talking chump change," he said slowly. "We need the basics and a few other things, that won't come cheap."
"It's all cool," Will said. "We can work out payback with consulting fees or something. That's if you'll let me work with you."
"Don't see any reason why not," Greg said. He looked at Gene. "The rest of the renovation?"
"A couple of windows need replacing and there's some drywall to hang still, and the floors to finish. After that we can start bringing in the furniture and equipment," Gene said. "I've got a great source for all of that. We can cut the bill by a third at least, maybe half in some places."
Greg nodded. "Okay." He glanced at Sarah and popped a couple of pretzels. "You got the battleax signed on yet?"
"I'm not pushing her," Sarah said. "I think the hook's set, but we need to let the line play out a little more before we reel her in."
"Nice metaphor."
Sarah inclined her head in acknowledgment. "So you're ready to start looking for your team."
"Soon enough." Greg dismissed it, but Roz saw his fingers tighten on his right thigh, rub it for a moment and then move away. He was worried about the whole enterprise, but the team in particular had him anxious. There was nothing she could do to help him with that task, but she could at least listen if he wanted to talk . . . She looked around the room and couldn't repress a shiver. The memory of Wilson and Greg's argument, of Greg's contemptuous comment to her, still echoed in this room. She wasn't sure she would ever be able to enter it without the memory of that afternoon.
"Hey." Greg was watching her, his gaze intent. "Pay attention, no daydreaming allowed." And then to her astonishment he took her hand in his. The meeting went on, but Roz heard very little of it. She was pulled out of the conversation by the feel of Greg's lean fingers around hers. His thumb slowly caressed the back of her hand. His touch held the memories at bay, put them in perspective; he'd hurt her deeply, but this wordless request for closeness spoke louder than the echoes of the recent past. Something within her, some tight little knot in a corner of her secret heart, began to loosen.
Soon enough they were on their way home through the darkness. Roz kept her speed down; she knew this back road was a heavily traveled deer crossing, particularly this time of year.
"You were remembering what happened," Greg said after a few moments.
"Yes." She saw no point in being anything other than honest.
"So that's it." He sounded bitter. "You'll never forget."
"I want to," she said. "Tonight . . . what you did helped." She reached out and touched his hand. "More would be nice."
He didn't respond at first. "Will you?" he said finally. "Forget?"
"I love you," she said. "That means more to me than anything else. So I guess that's a yes."
His hand sought hers, held it tight. She smiled in the darkness, and felt the knot loosen a little more.
