A Place Called Home (32 page)

“What? You think I was making some kind of threat back there? I’m not going to tell her.”

“No,” she said softly. “I am. And don’t pretend you don’t think she should know. She has to be informed to make the best decision she can about the children’s welfare.” Thea turned slightly toward Mitch, drawing one leg up under her. He was staring straight ahead, his eyes fixed on the road, though Thea doubted that he was giving it his full attention. If he had glanced in her direction he would have seen the naked plea for understanding in her eyes. “Mitch, if you decide that you don’t want the children—for whatever reason—I won’t be the one to get them. They’ll be placed in foster care. Perhaps they’ll be able to stay together, but there are no guarantees. They could be separated.”

He glanced at her, his expression skeptical. “Separated? They don’t do that anymore.”

Thea actually laughed, albeit without humor. Borrowing Rosie’s phrase, she asked, “Are you new to the planet? Mitch, it happens all the time. I sit on the board of a family services agency that operates foster care homes. No one likes to split children up but sometimes there’s no single home available that can take all of them. Sometimes one child has more problems with the move than the others and the foster parents can’t handle the misbehavior. That child can be removed and placed with another family and never be reunited with siblings again. Don’t misunderstand me. There are wonderful foster parents out there. The Reasoners were like that and Emilie, Case, and Grant are great kids, so someone will come forward to adopt them, even as old as they are, and—”

“Like hell.”

“And you’ll be fortunate,” Thea went on inexorably, “if you get to know where they’ve gone or how they’re doing or even if they’ve been able to stay together. Then there’s the whole problem of what the kids will think. You can tell them ten different ways to Sunday that it was
you
that fucked up and they’ll live with the certainty that it was them.”

“I’ve heard enough, Th—”

Thea talked right over him. “Tell them you let them go because you felt inadequate to the task of parenting them, that you forgot about a gun you had when you were a single guy, responsible to no one but yourself. Convince them it isn’t their fault they’re being taken from you because they stumbled on a lockbox in a room full of treasures and got curious. I swear to God, Mitch, that if they tell you they understand that they’re not to blame, they’re lying through their teeth. We all think it’s our fault. We think if we had just been a little smarter, a little better, stood straighter, complained less, didn’t cry, did our home—”

She fell silent abruptly. When had she stopped talking about Emilie and the twins and included herself in the circle of all children who believed they were to blame for the things that were done to them? “I’m sorry,” she said softly, turning and facing the windshield again. Leaning her head back, Thea closed her eyes. She felt the press of tears against her lids and the dampening of her lashes when they could not be contained.

“It was never your fault, Thea,” Mitch said after a moment.

Without opening her eyes, Thea offered up a faint, watery smile. “I know that,” she said quietly. “I have for a very long time. The tough part is believing it.” She turned her head toward the side window and impatiently wiped the tears away. She was glad when Mitch didn’t say anything. There was some part of her that wished she had shown the same discretion when he had stood so forlornly at the kitchen sink and stared out at nothing. But no, she was so uncomfortable with all those unpleasant feelings, even when they weren’t her own, that she had to try to fix them, ease them, make it better ... not for Mitch, but for herself.

Thea’s vision gradually cleared. She became aware of the bare-limbed trees lining the highway that were now perfectly outlined by the heavy snow. Branches drooped under the weight, making canopies that were like frosting and lace. Evergreen boughs were lowered toward their trunks, making the trees slimmer and more stately. They stood poised on the edge of the wood, still and serene, brides in waiting.

“Where are we going?” she asked suddenly.

“I’m taking you home.”

Thea pushed herself upright. “I said I’d get a rental and drive myself.”

“I heard what you said.” He didn’t add that he hadn’t agreed. By now that was obvious to Thea. “There’s not a whole lot you can do about it, so I don’t know that haranguing me serves much purpose. Unless you need to do it on general principle.”

Thea wasn’t certain what that general principle was, but she didn’t subscribe to it. She let him off without a fight.

It took them a little more than an hour to reach her home. They didn’t speak again until Mitch turned the SUV into her drifted-over driveway. “You want me to shovel this for you? You won’t be able to get your Porsche out.”

She shook her head. “I have a snowblower. One of the kids in the neighborhood will come over if I call. I probably won’t use the Porsche anyway. I’ll get a cab or share a ride into town tomorrow.” Thea opened the door. A blast of cold wind immediately filled the interior. “Thanks, though,” she added belatedly. “It was a nice offer.”

Mitch put the SUV in neutral and set the brake. “Listen, Thea, I hope we can talk about what happened today. If not now, then sometime soon. I don’t want to leave it like this.”

Except for the small vertical crease between her brow hinting that she understood, Thea’s expression was perfectly blank. “I don’t know what—”

“That’s beneath you,” he cut in. “You know very well what I’m saying. For God’s sake, Thea, let me at least apologize.”

In the act of pulling her bag and purse from the backseat, Thea paused. “I meant it when I said I don’t want an apology, Mitch. I told you what I was and I made a point of asking you not to forget.” She shrugged lightly, putting effort into carelessness. “I just didn’t anticipate it being thrown back in my face, is all. It’s a good thing to know it can happen.” Thea slung her purse over her shoulder and clutched the bag under one arm. “Thanks for the lift.” She hopped down, sank halfway to her knees in snow, and still managed to smile brightly. “Bye.”

Mitch almost recoiled as the door was slammed, if not in his face, then close enough to feel like it. He sat where he was and watched Thea make her way to the front door. It wasn’t the graceful exit she might have wished for. The snow was too deep for her to do anything but make an awkward march up the sidewalk. She fumbled in her purse for the key, finding it only after a prolonged search that frustrated her enough to drop-kick the overnight bag. Mitch was careful not to smile, certain that if she turned back and saw him she’d only be provoked by it. Even after she disappeared inside the house, Mitch remained in the driveway considering his options.

He could go after her, of course, but it was doubtful that she’d let him in at this point. More likely, if he hung around in her driveway too long, she or a neighbor would call the police. He had his cell phone in his jacket pocket. It was tempting to call her but too easy for her to hang up or simply not pick up. Just as important, Mitch wasn’t at all clear about what he wanted to say to her; it was more that he wasn’t ready to say good-bye.

It bothered him most that she wouldn’t let him apologize. He had been so out of line saying those things to her. Just thinking about the words he’d hurled at her made him squirm uncomfortably. She’d taken it on the chin, not even flinching from the flailing he’d given her, but he knew he’d hurt her. It was more than the words he’d flung at her head; it was the fact that
he
had flung them. Thea had trusted him with something important and personal about herself and at the first opportunity, he had used that knowledge to shame and disrespect her.

So what was it that he wanted by making the apology? It seemed pretty clear to him that he was seeking absolution for himself, not for the words he’d used. Thea had known it, too—long before he had—and that was why she wasn’t willing to hear him out. She wasn’t going to play priest to his sinner.

He considered what she’d said that triggered his outburst.
“You’re not thinking I could take them?”
He’d thought she was trying to avoid accepting any responsibility for the children in a tit for tat manner: if he couldn’t take the children, then neither could she. But it wasn’t that at all. She’d been trying to tell him that if he didn’t assume responsibility, she wouldn’t be allowed to. Thea was trying to warn him in that single alarming sentence what was in store for Emilie and the twins. Her mind had been racing ahead to all the possibilities while his own thoughts were mired in cataloging his inadequacies. Every time he made noises about not being able to handle his new role as a parent, Thea panicked. Not because she didn’t want the children, Mitch was finally realizing, but because she was convinced she couldn’t have them.

Swearing under his breath, Mitch jammed the SUV into reverse, released the brake, and backed out of Thea’s driveway with enough speed that he fishtailed once he hit the icy street.

He wanted his life back, the one where he didn’t have to think about school bus schedules and lunch money and the tooth fairy. The one where he could ask a woman to spend the night sans guilt. The one that didn’t have a cussing jar, refrigerator magnets, and naked Barbies underfoot. He wanted the life that he had when he could put a gun away and not think about it again, when he could put bullets in a crayon box because no one would think to look for them there.

He wanted ...

Mitch stopped. His chest felt tight, his eyes gritty. He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a car sitting behind him, waiting for him to move. Before he could press the gas, the driver tooted his horn. With mock cheerfulness, Mitch flipped him off.

Yep, that was the life he wanted, all right, the one where mild annoyances could be answered by posting the bird and damning the consequences. Stepping lightly on the gas, he glanced in the mirror again and this time he saw that in addition to the driver there were two boys in the backseat.

He had just flipped off someone’s father.

The epiphany for Mitch was that along with the tips of his ears reddening and the ruddy flush that colored his complexion, there was an undeniable sense of shame. He imagined trying to explain his behavior to Emilie and the boys, and just as difficult, explaining away the behavior of someone else doing the same to him.

It didn’t matter about the life he wanted; this was the one he had. The one where he thought about his actions from a child’s perspective. The one where bicycles blocked doorways, where a sleepover with the opposite sex meant seven of Emilie’s friends were crashing in the living room. The one where he owned an SUV, made sure there was something green to eat at dinner, and checked the rating of every CD, movie, and TV program for violence, language, and sexual content. This was the life where he kissed warm foreheads and drew the covers up small, snuggling bodies and listened to prayers that asked God to make sure their parents’ spirits were having a wonderful time in heaven.

It was a good life. A great life, really.

Mitch felt the pressure in his chest ease. He could do this. He could. Whatever the reason, it no longer felt as if he was trying to convince himself of the truth of it.

Rosie sat at Thea’s kitchen table with her feet propped on the chair beside her. She had a cup of black decaf coffee and a short stack of Oreos in front of her. Thea watched, fascinated, as Rosie dunked an Oreo into her coffee and pulled it through the hot liquid in a figure-eight pattern. She seemed to know exactly the right moment to pull it out to get maximum saturation without cookie collapse. It was remarkable.

Rosie plopped the entire Oreo in her mouth and sucked the coffee out as the cookie melted on her tongue. Her smile was beatific. “Manna,” she said. She waved a hand, dismissing the attention to herself and asked Thea, “So what are you going to do?”

Thea shrugged. “Not a thing. At least not right away. I don’t know when I’ll be ready to talk to him again.”

“You think he’s really changing his mind about taking the kids?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I hope not.” Her features softened. “You should see him with them, Rosie. He makes it look easy. Kathy and Gabe knew something when they asked him to look out for their kids.”

“Oh,” Rosie scoffed, “and they asked you because the children needed exposure to the dark side? I don’t think so. If you feel strongly that the kids should be with Mitch, then you’re going to have to talk to him again, Thea. And soon. The hearing’s when? A few weeks from now?”

“April 17.”

“Then you have time to convince him.”

Thea’s expression was patently skeptical. “I gave it my best shot before I left him. And then there was his crack about me not worrying that I’ll have to do more than write him a check or screw him. That still stings. He thinks that I’m trying to avoid responsibility when I’m actually trying to take some.”

One of Rosie’s brows lifted and her eyes gleamed. “Yeah. About the screwing part ... that would be taking responsibility, how?”

Thea’s forearm was resting on the table. With a dramatic little moan she dropped her head against it and left it there.

“That’s what I thought,” Rosie said, grinning. “Robby got a kick out of your message. Sympathy sex. He liked that. Wishes he could get himself some. Of course I’d have to feel sorry for him first and that’s not gonna happen.”

Thea lifted her head enough to look at Rosie with one eye. “You torture that man.”

“Uh-huh.” She paused a beat. “So ... was it good?”

Sitting up again, Thea nodded. “Better than good.” Her voice softened. “It felt special.” She held up her hand before Rosie launched into waterboarding mode. “That’s all I’m saying. I’m not even certain what I think. I didn’t plan it when I took off my engagement ring, but you and I know I opened myself up to the possibility.”

“I still think you need to talk to him.”

“Later,” Thea said softly. “Much later.”

Rosie abruptly cut to the chase. “And in the meantime, what are you going to do about the need for speed?” She stopped Thea’s immediate denial and went on bluntly. “I know you weren’t looking through Mitch’s medicine cabinet for speeders, but if he’d had something in there to take the edge off—something in the Valium family, for instance—that was pretty damn close, Thea.”