My Name is Nell Page 17

  If Abby only knew how hard it was going to be these next few minutes, hours. This one night. Brady’s rejection had left a hole in her heart no amount of liquor could fill.

  But the wine remained a temptation. One she had to overcome. Somehow.

  ABBY CLUTCHED Tonya’s arm the next morning as they stood outside the school waiting for the warning bell. “I thought I was gonna die!”

  “I would have,” Tonya said. “They’d have had to carry me outta there feet first.”

  “It’s funny, though. You know, in a way, it was easier starting my period there than being at my dad’s and having Clarice flutter around like I’d broken one of her precious pinkie nails.”

  “But what did you say to Mr. Logan?”

  “I didn’t have to say anything. He guessed. Then he was cool and talked about his dead daughter almost like I was a grown-up.”

  “But what about why you went there? Did you have a chance to tell him about how your mom likes him?”

  Pulling Tonya along with her, Abby moved into the shadow of the building, avoiding a group of preppy girls who loitered nearby, almost as if they were eavesdropping. “I thought everything was gonna be cool when he came over to our house afterward.” She swallowed hard. “But it wasn’t. Mom told me later he wouldn’t be coming to see us anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  Abby warmed slightly with her friend’s empathetic indignation. “Um, he can’t deal with Mom.”

  “Whaddya mean?”

  “Her being—” Abby squirmed, hating the word “—an alcoholic.”

  “But she doesn’t drink now.”

  “I guess he thinks she could, though.”

  “Well, could she?”

  Abby clutched her book bag like an anchor. “I don’t know. She was pretty upset after he left. It scared me.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  Feeling helpless and very alone, Abby shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  The warning bell interrupted their conversation and they joined other students entering the building. Tonya took off down the hall toward the art room. Abby headed for social studies, wondering what, if anything, she could do.

  Halfway through the first-period discussion of forms of government, an answer came. She dug in her purse to see if she had the right change. She could make the call at noon.

  Grandma and Aunt Lily needed to know about her mother. Surely they could cheer Mom up, keep her from drinking.

  Only, if she phoned them, then Aunt Lily would prob’ly talk to her, like she always did, about going to Alateen meetings.

  What was the matter with adults anyway? It was hard enough being a kid and worrying about boyfriends and zits and stupid homework without having Brady and her mother screw up not only their own lives but hers as well!

  NELL HAD NOT BEEN happy when her mother called at work and asked her to stop by the house on her way home. She’d hardly slept at all last night and they’d had a frantic day at the library. She looked like a walking ad for an insomniac’s convention. The last thing she needed was to fall under maternal scrutiny. But there had been no putting Stella off, and truth to tell, she hadn’t seen her mother lately. She couldn’t even use Abby as an excuse. Before she’d left for school this morning, Abby had told her there was an after-school chorus rehearsal and that Mrs. Larkin would pick them up afterward. Nell needed to be home in time to help Abby get ready for her big date with Alan, but that wasn’t for a couple of hours.

  Nor did she have any excuse for missing her morning AA meeting. Yet facing all those knowing people and having them see right through her was more than she could handle on top of Brady’s final words.

  The carefully landscaped Victorian home sat on a deep lot near downtown. As Nell walked up the steps and onto the wrap-around porch, she remembered her dad and his teasing comments. “Your mother talked me into this drafty old barn. Lord, we could’ve bought three houses for what it’s cost to fix up this place.” And yet he’d loved the project. Nell smiled wistfully, remembering happy hours she’d spent helping him in the garage workshop, where sawdust and radio coverage of the Razorbacks kept the two of them company as they worked.

  Nell gave a quick rap on the front door, then walked on in. The music system was playing a soft classical piano selection, and from the library, she heard voices. Two of them.

  Lily was here, too.

  All Nell wanted was to get this ordeal behind her as quickly as possible. “Anybody home?”

  “In here, Nell,” Stella called.

  Entering the richly paneled room, Nell noticed that both her mother and sister had goblets of…surely soda or tea, not wine. She couldn’t face the temptation of wine. Lily rose to her feet and spread her arms in the invitation to a hug. Nell stepped into her arms, relieved by the faint lemony scent on her sister’s breath.

  Stepping out of Lily’s embrace, Nell dropped a kiss on her mother’s head. Stella smiled, then asked, “Coffee, tea or a soda, Nell?”

  She didn’t want anything. At least none of what had been offered, but she needed something to hold on to. “Is the coffee made?” When her mother nodded, Nell said, “I’ll get it.”

  In the quiet of the kitchen she leaned for a moment against the counter, summoning the strength to get her through the next few minutes. After pouring a cup of coffee, she pasted a smile on her face, returned to the library and sat in the wingback chair facing the leather couch where the other two sat.

  “The yard looks nice, Mother.”

  Stella set down her drink. “Nathan does a good job with it. Not as good as your father did, of course, but widows can’t be choosy.”

  “We should all be so lucky as to have a Nathan,” Lily said, with a chuckle.

  “How’s my granddaughter these days? I haven’t seen much of her lately.”

  “Very relieved.”

  Lily sat forward. “Why’s that?”

  “I’m sure she won’t mind my telling you. Her period started yesterday. She’d been so afraid she was never going to catch up with Tonya.” Nell tried a little laugh. “In hindsight, it’s nothing I would have been in a hurry about.”

  “Bless her heart. I’ll have to get her a grandmotherly present to mark the occasion.”

  “It’s certainly a rite of passage,” Lily said, picking up her iced tea and taking a sip.

  “It seems like only yesterday she was a baby and tonight she has a date to the eighth-grade dance.” Nell shook her head. “My how time flies,” she said wincing at the truth of the old chestnut.

  “Speaking of that,” Lily said, “we haven’t seen much of you lately. Too busy with Brady Logan?”

  “That won’t be a problem any longer.” She took a swallow of her coffee, black and bitter. “As the kids would say, ‘He’s history.’”

  Stella cradled her goblet, caressing the stem with her slender, manicured fingers. “Oh, honey, what do you mean?”

  “Just that. We…didn’t work out.”

  “But you cared for him, right?” Lily’s gaze was sympathetic. Both her mother and sister waited for her to say something. “Yes.” Nell wanted to scream.

  “You must be upset,” her mother said.

  “I’ve had better days.”

  “Abby said you couldn’t promise you wouldn’t drink.”

  Nell whirled on Lily. “‘Abby said’? What do you mean?”

  Lily blushed and ducked her head guiltily. “Abby called Mother. She’s worried about you, Nell.”

  Great. As if she didn’t know that. The last thing she needed was a triumvirate of female relatives observing her every move.

  “Did you tell her you might drink?” Stella asked.

  Very deliberately, Nell set down her cup. “No. I told her I wouldn’t drink last night.”

  Stella’s eyebrows peaked. “Well, that wasn’t very encouraging for her.”

  “But it was honest. That’s all I can ever promise. One day at a time.”

  “Maybe Abby thinks this upset over Brady Log
an might make you…vulnerable.” Lily glanced at her mother as if to secure concurrence. “We think you need to be especially watchful. Of course, we’re both here for you whenever you need support.”

  Nell flushed with anger. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to have you looking over my shoulder all the time, waiting for the next blunder, the next fall from grace?”

  Lily’s head snapped back. “Easy, Nell. We’re only trying to help.”

  “I’ve appreciated everything you’ve done for me, but I need some space. And how about showing a little confidence in me?”

  “You don’t need to get huffy.” Stella placed her goblet carefully on the coffee table. “You’ll have to excuse us, but we remember those months when we were terrified for you and for Abby. When we’d call you at ten in the morning and find you still in bed, hardly coherent. When we were all on tenterhooks at family gatherings wondering if you’d make a fool of yourself. When I could hardly bear to think of what would happen if you were driving after you’d been drinking. I guess we got the answer to that one, didn’t we?”

  Nell stood abruptly and walked away from their accusing eyes, their long memories. The silence in the room was painful.

  Lily broke the tension. “Nell, Abby was little then. She’s not now. Don’t put her through something like that.”

  Nell clenched her fingers, trying to drown out the words and the images the words evoked. Her voice came out cold, metallic. “Don’t six years count for anything?”

  Lily’s voice was practical. “You said it yourself. Six years or six days. It’s this one day that counts. We just don’t want to see you mess up because you’re upset about Brady.”

  Nell faced them then. “I love Brady, okay? It was devastating when he left last night. I’ll admit it, I was tempted to drink. But, guess what? I resisted. I plan to resist tonight. And, God willing, tomorrow night. But this is my life, my decision. Not yours. And there comes a time when your solicitude is not helpful. I need to be treated like a fully functioning adult, not some morally handicapped person whose own mother, sister and daughter can’t trust her.”

  Lily stood. “Nell, we didn’t mean it like that.”

  Picking up her purse, Nell headed for the door. “I’m sure you didn’t. I love you both, but you have to let me go. Let me be my own person. Not you, not Abby, not anybody can keep me from the next drink if I really want it. So, please, if you wish to be helpful, quit assuming weakness and start trusting me.”

  Just as she turned to leave the room, her mother’s voice rose in concern. “But you will be careful, won’t you, darling?”

  Incredulous, Nell stared back at her mother for a moment, then left. She couldn’t wait to get outside. She was breathing heavily when she reached the haven of her car. How dare they? Her hands shook when she tried, unsuccessfully the first time, to insert the key in the ignition. Why would they automatically assume she would take a drink just because Brady had walked out on her?

  Trembling all over, she started the car and backed slowly out of the driveway. Heartache was just something you lived through. There would be no Brady in her tomorrows.

  And she had to remind herself over and over that there would also be no liquor in her tomorrows. No warm soothing of the loneliness yawning inside her. No blissful, blurred vision of reality.

  And yet…

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  NELL STOOD behind Abby watching her in the bathroom mirror as she painstakingly applied the merest hint of blush. “Is this about right?”

  “Looks perfect. Too much would make your skin look harsh and you have such a pretty complexion.”

  Abby shot her a skeptical look. “Mom, get a grip. I feel weird when you say things like that.”

  Nell fell silent. Her daughter wanted reassurance, just not too much. Figuring out the correct dosage was a maternal challenge beyond her powers at the moment. She sighed softly. That delicate line between approval and interference. The one her own mother had crossed earlier in the day. Were mothers and daughters forever doomed to get on each other’s nerves? “What are you wearing tonight?” Surely that was a neutral change of topic.

  “I haven’t decided. Maybe my khaki skirt and that new green top I got at Old Navy or that purple flowered T-shirt and my black skirt. What do you think?” She wrinkled her brow and leaned closer, picking at a pimple on her cheek.

  Nell wasn’t about to involve herself in that issue. “No matter what you decide, you’ll look great.”

  Abby turned around and leaned against the basin. “I’m so nervous.”

  “That’s natural. I remember the first date I had. Lester Royer took me to the skating rink and all evening I was convinced he was noticing how sweaty my palms were.”

  “Gross. Lester?”

  “Believe me, Alan Voyle is a stud, compared to poor Les. You’ll have a great time.”

  Abby flung her arms around Nell’s neck. “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

  “And I love you.”

  After the brief hug, Abby drew back, then turned to catch one last glimpse of herself in the mirror before starting down the hall. “I’ll be in my room. I’ve gotta call Tonya and see what she’s wearing.”

  Watching until Abby reached her bedroom, Nell shook her head, baffled at where the years had gone and praying that Alan Voyle was as nice as he appeared to be. There was no Rick or Brady to string him up by the heels if he wasn’t.

  Did Abby miss having a father? In recent years, they’d never really talked about it, but she had to feel a void. Nell’s father had been the hero of her life. She couldn’t imagine growing up without him.

  Suddenly the events of the past twenty-four hours caught up with her. Her own tardy confession about her alcoholism, Abby’s coming of age and Brady’s subsequent kindness to her daughter and then his angry departure. And that didn’t even take into account today’s sneak attack by Lily and her mother.

  Then there was the other problem—the one she refused to think about. Rick. Abby’s next visit to Dallas was coming up soon. What if Rick said something to Abby about living with him?

  She wound her arms around her waist and hurried to the kitchen. She needed to keep busy. She pulled out a cookbook and began assembling the ingredients for devil’s food cookies. Chocolate. The universal pacifier. I’m a big girl, she kept telling herself. I can get through all of this. Mother and Lily hadn’t done anything they didn’t normally do. Hover. Rick and Clarice wouldn’t really want Abby, would they? She would certainly put a damper on their high-flying lifestyle.

  Instead of getting out the mixer, Nell used a spoon to cream the butter and sugar, transferring her frustration to the batter. She could rationalize those problems all she wanted, but what about Brady? How would she ever get over him?

  Damn it, I will not cry. I have no more tears. She’d been pretty rough on him last night. Had she been motivated by defensiveness or by a genuine desire to help him? What did it matter? In either case, he’d stormed out of her life. He’d had a right to be angry. But what about all those good times? The two nights they’d spent in each other’s arms? For the first time in her life she had felt—in the fullest sense of the word—womanly, adored.

  Dropping the spoon into the bowl with a clatter, she bent over the counter. Or had he merely been using her? She was convenient and willing. Boy, had she been willing!

  No, it wasn’t like that. For better or worse, she loved him.

  And loving him, she couldn’t help picking up on the hurt he still carried around with him. He might have come to some kind of peace about Brooke and Nicole, but it was clear he still had demons to wrestle, and that was something he had to do alone.

  So now she had no choice, none at all, except to let him go and somehow, some way go on with her life. She stared at the eggs and flour and vanilla as if she’d never seen them before. She didn’t want chocolate. What good could it do? She wanted Brady. Without stopping to think, she scooped up the ball of creamed butter and sugar and threw it in the garb
age, then put away the other ingredients, slamming cupboard doors as she went.

  A huge sob racked her. God, she couldn’t go on. Not without him. Before, she hadn’t known what she was missing. Now she did.

  But he had made his decision. He had walked out of her life. The sooner she reconciled herself to that fact, the better.

  But even as she stood wiping her eyes with the corner of a dish towel, there remained a glimmer of hope. Maybe he would come back. When he wasn’t so angry. When he’d had time to think.

  When he could trust her. Forgive her.

  Hope died at the same moment the doorbell rang. Nell glanced at the kitchen clock. It was too early for Alan to be arriving. She folded the towel, placed it on the counter and headed to the door. “I’ll get it.”

  “Who is it?” Abby called, her voice panicky.

  When Nell opened the door, a delivery man handed her a bouquet of rosebuds, carnations and baby’s breath. “For Abby Porter,” he said.

  Nell thanked him and started down the hall to deliver the unexpected gift.

  “Is it him?” Abby hissed from behind her door.

  “No, honey. It’s flowers. For you.”

  Nell entered the room and placed the vase on the dresser.

  Abby’s eyes rounded with delight. “Who are they from? Nobody’s ever sent me flowers before.”

  “Here.” Nell unpinned the small envelope attached to the pale pink bow and handed it to her daughter.

  Abby pulled out the card and read it silently. When she raised her head, tears stood in her eyes.

  “What?” Nell asked, concerned.

  “Oh, Mom, he remembered.”

  “Who remembered?”

  “Brady.” She offered the card to her mother.

  Nell hesitated. She didn’t want to take it. Didn’t want to read it.

  “Mom?” Abby prompted.

  Nell took the card and lowered her eyes to the strong masculine pen strokes. “Abby, you are a beautiful young woman. I hope tonight’s dance is special for you. I’m leaving Arkansas early in the morning. Even though I won’t be seeing you again, please know that you will always have a special place in my heart.”