September Love Read online

  “Beth,” he said gently, “it’s clear you’ve never lived with an alcoholic. Yes, she’d been drinking. One of the first things to learn when dealing with an alcoholic is that the alcoholic will have a stash of booze somewhere. Food? Only a maybe. But booze? Yes. Always. I suspect that ugly big gray tote bag she hangs on to as if it were full of gold bullion is the receptical of choice for our Kayla.”

  “I’m sorry,” Beth said weakly. “Should I have done something?”

  “What? She had already decided on rehab, on giving it another try, but until she actually went into rehab it would have been Kayla just doing her thing. God help her. Let’s just pray that it works this time. That this time she makes it. She was serious about it, I’ll give her that. It takes some guts to admit you’ve screwed up and even more guts to admit you can’t handle it and need help. She’s really trying and…it kind of breaks my heart because…”

  “Because why?” Beth asked softly.

  “Because I’m scared that she’ll fail, I guess.”

  “Oh, Doug, she will succeed this time. I just know it. She’s got to.” She couldn’t stand Doug feeling so defeated, and so guilty.

  He spoke quickly, turning his gaze to the sober little boy. “And if she doesn’t?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ve got to talk some more about this, consider all the possibilities.” He indicated Adam, without speaking his name. “We must be sure about him. Nothing can change that. If Kayla makes it this time, fine, his place is with his mother. But otherwise…”

  Yes, otherwise. What was Doug thinking? Beth made herself think about the possibilities. She suddenly knew to the bottom of her soul that they couldn’t stand by, if Kayla failed, and watch her leave with Adam. She couldn’t do that to Doug or Adam. She could not stand at the door and watch his little legs trying to keep up with the billowing green skirt going rapidly to—where? To somewhere that didn’t have enough for him to eat? Never again did she want to think of his digging dirty fingers into a limp bag for leftover french fries— But what about the rights of grandparents? What right did Doug have to dictate to Kayla how Adam should be cared for?

  No, they couldn’t forget about otherwise. She had loved being a grandparent. There was so much joy in it. All the fun of welcoming her daughters’ children trooping up the front steps for a visit. None of the commitments of keeping lists of booster shots, of dental appointments, of the sudden edge-of-death illnesses of small children that went away the next day after a sleepless night for the parents. Oh, that otherwise. If worse came to worse and Kayla didn’t make it this time, could she really handle the otherwise again? For this little boy? All the unending problems of parenting?

  Doug was looking at her with a question in his eyes. “That little bundle to take care of now, at this time in our lives, could be a real handful. Or, as they say today, a ‘challenge.”’ He was speaking tentatively, with uncertainty in his voice. She felt an inner chill. He went on. “Our life is good, Beth. You and me. Here. Now. Together. If anything should put it at risk, I don’t think I’m above falling on my knees and howling like a banshee. That’s what I mean when I say we should talk about this more, consider all the possibilities. Even the possibility—make that probability—that Kayla could blow it again.”

  And Adam was already a psychologically abused child, a child with many problems.

  “I agree,” Beth said. “We need to get serious, think about solutions, all the what-ifs, of raising a child.” What am I saying? No way could we take on a child to raise at this wonderful time in our lives.

  “Whatever way it goes with Kayla,” she said carefully, “I think we should try to persuade her to stay in Seattle. So we can be aware of how he’s doing. So we can at least have a, er, monitoring position. For whatever reasons, Kayla has shown herself to be…vulnerable. She’s not as…strong as most people. Even if she recovers completely but some sort of pressure mounts, she might need help again. So I think she should be here. I mean in Seattle. Don’t you think so?” Even as she spoke her reassuring words her mind was silently screaming, I can’t do this!

  “Besides the fact that I would probably agree with anything you say, yes, I think we should try to keep Kayla in Seattle. I’m going to stay vigilant about Adam.”

  Beth felt a little sick. Nothing must ever separate her from Doug. He had sounded uncertain, uneasy. There was one absolute in this wonderful part of her life, this marvelous second chance at love: she must never—for any reason—lose this closeness with Doug. Together, with the operative word being together, they would have to handle this. Somehow.

  “When will we know how Kayla is doing?”

  Doug sighed. “Not for six weeks. At first the patients aren’t allowed to call out or receive incoming calls or visits. It’s a period of orientation, sort of. Training, I guess. Redirecting the person’s mind-set. Broadening the focus off getting that next drink to some sort of realization that there is more to life than getting that next drink. And that life entails responsibility, that other people are out there who need thinking about. They seem to know what they’re doing. Their success rate is quite good, keeping in mind that once a person is an addict—to whatever—that person will always be more vulnerable than someone who has never had a dependency on something. The fact that a person becomes addicted in the first place indicates a cry for help, that the person has—needs help in some way.” He paused. “And isn’t getting it.”

  Beth went into his arms and he held her tightly for a long moment. Oh, Doug, I love you so much. They were both looking somberly at Adam by the toy box. Adam put two pieces of yellow plastic together, struggled with them before they clicked into place together. Then he paused and stared off into the distance.

  “Mommy, come back,” he muttered softly to himself.

  “Yes,” Beth said. “Not right away, Adam. Not today. But she will come back.” And Adam nodded, turning his attention back to the bits of plastic in his small hands, as the phone ringing broke into the pensive mood.

  With Doug following, Beth went to answer it in the hall by the desk. It was someone to make a reservation, and Beth flipped through the booking schedule. The entries for summer were mounting.

  “No, I’m sorry. There’s nothing left in either July or August for your friend. No, not even the bed-sitter. That’s booked solid.” The bed-sitter is Adam’s place. “I still have about eleven days in June. And more than that in May, and a few dates this month. Yes. I have that big room available on June fifteenth. And, yes, it’s big enough for a roll-away for your third person.” She wrote down the reservation and credit card number, and said goodbye. As she hung up the phone it rang again.

  “Party of three from Denver,” she told Doug as she picked up the phone again. “That couple from Denver coming in later today have certainly spread the word— Hello?” she said into the phone.

  “Yes, of course I can, Mrs. Reese-Talbot. No, it’s not too short notice. I understand you get these sudden assignments. No trouble at all.” And she booked in another returning guest. As she hung up the phone she smiled at Doug. She really liked this part-time career she had built for herself. She was proud of it. It was her own achievement—her very own.

  “It’s that elderly professional photographer from New York. She’s working on some assignment to photograph inner-city street people, and I guess Seattle’s Pioneer Square qualifies.”

  Doug sighed. “She worries me. The woman doesn’t know fear. I mean commonsense fear. Pioneer Square at 3:00 a.m. isn’t for little old ladies with cameras, old pro or not.”

  “Well, cross your fingers because she’s coming in on an 8:00 p.m. flight today. I promised to have a snack for her.” But she said it absently, aware that she was thinking on two levels. What was wrong with refusing a few reservations? Better start leaving a few days vacant. She might need some spare time later. No need to book solid this year. It might cost them a little money, but she and Doug both had moderate pensions and Doug was
selling more and more of his beautiful landscape paintings now. They could get by comfortably without a full house. It was certainly something to consider.

  Sunday morning brought another small problem. Checkout time was 11:00 a.m. On those rare Sundays when people were still here by eleven, when church began, Doug waited to see them off and slid into the pew a little late. But now, what about Adam?

  “Adam’s not secure enough yet for us to drop him off tomorrow at Sunday school, is he?” Doug asked.

  They were in the bed-sitter, with Adam, sound asleep, looking very small in the middle of the big sofa bed. One or both of them were coming down during the night to check on him. It was another little task, a little worry. Tomorrow afternoon Jill’s husband, Greg, the family fix-it expert, was coming over to install an electronic child-monitor intercom between the bed-sitter and their bedroom. That would help.

  “No, not yet,” Beth answered. “He’s such a little loner, he might not fit in with a group of children yet anyhow.”

  “I’ll baby-sit,” Doug offered immediately. “The sky won’t fall if I miss a few Sundays at church. You’ve got your Coffee Hour duties.”

  “Yes,” Beth said, frowning slightly. She was on the rotation two Sundays a month to serve coffee, tea and cookies at one of the big tables in the church rec room after Sunday service. Should she think about giving that up? No. No way.

  Doug continued. “And Coffee Hour will be a sellout this Sunday because everybody will come to church just to hear how Flip Cooper preaches a sermon. Cyrus is a hard act to follow in the sermon-preaching department.”

  Beth’s frown deepened. “You don’t suppose, Flip Cooper will wear those awful cutoff jeans, do you?”

  Doug started to laugh but stopped as Adam stirred in his sleep. Beth gently adjusted the boy’s covers although they didn’t need adjusting.

  On Sunday morning Beth arrived at church a little breathless and almost late. She met Kate and Kate’s husband, Ian, coming out. Kate looked awful, her face pasty and her brown eyes deeply circled.

  “Kate, Ian,” Beth whispered, hugging them both. “Aren’t you going the wrong way?” The congregation was already into the opening hymn. The beautiful words and melody of “Amazing Grace” flowed around them.

  “We’re not staying. I told Kate we shouldn’t come today. She’s not feeling too great.” Ian’s sandy hair had fallen down over his forehead the way it usually did, and his tall, lean frame was tense with worry.

  “I’m okay, really. I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed, so I’ll just go home and get back into it again.” She tried for a smile, which wasn’t quite convincing. “Go on in, Mom. They’ve already started. And you may feel a little better about flippy Philip.”

  “You mean he’s not wearing denim cutoffs?” Beth tried for the same light tone. She was thankful Kate’s marriage was good and she knew that Ian would care for Kate better than anyone else could. It was a second marriage for both. Kate had been a widow with two small children, and Ian divorced with custody of his son. The first year of their marriage had been rocky. Proud Kate hadn’t known that she knew about the troubles, but Beth and Jill had worried privately, never letting her know.

  “Actually, you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” Ian was saying. “He’s stashed the cutoffs, at least for today. He looks pretty good. Not exactly suit-and-tie but he’s wearing brown slacks and a sort of tan jacket over a rust-colored turtleneck. Sorry I couldn’t see his shoes.”

  “Not as dignified as Cyrus always looked,” Kate said, “but not really undignified, either. Ian, we’d better get going.”

  “Yes, sure. Bye, Beth. Love ya.”

  Beth looked after them fondly for a moment and then entered the nave, slid into a back pew and reached for a hymn book to join in the last bars of “Amazing Grace.” A feeling of comfort gently touched her soul. Trust and believe. Somehow everything would be all right.

  She was thinking of Cyrus again as Pastor Cooper ended his sermon, and she felt a lot better. Philip Cooper wasn’t Cyrus, but his sermon had been quite good. She was able to file out with the others, pause to shake his hand and honestly thank him, as the congregation slowly dispersed. Then she hurried down to the rec room, to take her place at the tea end of one of the long tables.

  Coffee Hour lasted longer than usual. It seemed that everyone was relieved to see that Philip Cooper could, and did, act like a pastor when necessary and that, somehow, even with the worry about Cyrus, things might still turn out fine.

  “How’d it go?” Doug asked as he met her at the door when she got home. “Greg called a minute ago. He’s coming over to install that gizmo. Jill begged off. Laurie is coming down with something and she wanted to keep the kids home.”

  “Oh, dear, I hope it’s nothing serious. At church things went quite well.” And she told him about Pastor Cooper’s well-written sermon. “Where’s Adam?” she asked.

  “I left him in his bed-sitter. He’s a sad little guy, love. He asked about Kayla at least once every hour. And he’s apparently missing you, too. What’d you tell him to call you?”

  “Gramma Beth. We started that for Jill’s children, since they have two grandmas. Greg’s mother, Laura, and me. She’s Gramma Laura and I’m Gramma Beth.”

  He grinned. “Well, he gets it fairly close. It comes out more like ‘Gamma Beff.’ I told him you were at church. That drew a big blank. I’m afraid church hasn’t been part of his life experience so far.”

  When Greg Rhys, Jill’s tall, blond husband, came over, as always Beth’s heart warmed to him. He was so good, so steady. Always there when needed. In addition to being a successful CPA, it seemed there was nothing he couldn’t fix, mend, put together or build from scratch. During college he had spent every spare moment building a beautiful wooden sailboat he had name Far Horizon. It didn’t seem to bother him that he had never sailed it to any far horizon. He and Jill had found their happiness here at home.

  But he had told them a number of times, “It wasn’t wasted effort. If any of us needs a sailboat in the future, well, I can do that.”

  He and Doug kept up a steady flow of easy conversation while he installed the child-monitor intercom. Adam stood close to Beth’s side, glowering at this strange blond man who had invaded his bed-sitter domain.

  When Doug tried to pay Greg for the cost of the monitor, Greg brushed it aside. “Jill got it on sale at some discount place. Not worth worrying about.”

  Doug accepted this pleasantly, but when Greg had gone he said, “I wish they wouldn’t do that. They’re always trying to do something for us. Makes me feel over the hill. I wanted to at least pay for the thing.”

  Beth held back a smile, looking at his rugged face and strong frame. “Trust me, Doug. You’re not over the hill.” And they looked into each other’s eyes.

  “I love you, lady.”

  “I love you, too.”

  It was the last tranquil moment they would have for some time, as the ringing of the phone ripped into their serenity.

  “Don’t forget,” Doug said quickly, as Beth answered it, “we decided we didn’t need to book solid.”

  “Right. Hello?”

  “Hi. I mean, hello. This is Estelle Yager.” And there was the sound of something like a gulp.

  “Were you calling about a room?”

  “No. I mean, I guess you remember me as Estelle Ledbetter. Does that ring a bell?”

  “Oh, Estelle. Yes, of course.” She covered the mouthpiece, turning to Doug. “It’s Cyrus’s daughter, Estelle. She went to school with Kate.” She spoke into the phone again. “I’m so glad to hear from you. I’d heard that you and your brother were coming home again. Have you seen your father?”

  “Yes, we have, and—” There was another little gulp. “And he’s, uh, not feeling too badly. I’m here at the hospital now, Mrs. Bennett. I mean, you’re Mrs. Colby now, aren’t you? Well, Mrs. Colby, could you come down to the hospital for a little while? Dad is…Dad said he wanted to visit with you for a few minutes.
And they, uh, they said it would be okay.”

  “She’s crying,” Beth said almost soundlessly to Doug, sudden anxiety seizing her. Oh, dear God, not Cyrus. Not yet. Not my dear, dear friend. “Of course I can come down for a while,” she answered, surprised that her voice was so steady.

  She turned to Doug almost as soon as she hung up, going into his arms.

  He said, “Think a minute, sweetheart. What do you want me to do? I’ll come with you if you need me and cope with Adam, or…whatever.”

  She drew away from him. “I guess it might be best if you just stay here. I got the feeling that…I won’t be there long.”

  “Shall I call a cab or do you want to drive?”

  “I’ll drive.” She looked up at him, loving every line of him. “I’ll be all right. You just hold the fort here until I get back.”

  “Will do.”

  There wasn’t too much traffic downtown on a Sunday afternoon, so Beth made good time. And after parking in the big gray garage across the street, she walked swiftly to the great gray mass that was Swedish Hospital. She paused a moment just inside the large entrance. This place held so many memories. She felt a kind of inward shaking. Kate, darling Kate, had been born here, her first child. Beth nodded and smiled politely to a receptionist behind a counter. It was here she had sweated and twisted during Jill’s birth, with Cyrus waiting in the father’s lounge with Ralph.

  Now a teenage volunteer smiled and came forward. “Do you know which room you’re going to, ma’am? If you don’t, I can take you.”

  Beth smiled back. “Thank you, yes. I know.”

  It was here, years later, that Ralph died. She had felt so helpless, but her family, and Cyrus, had been here for her, supporting her. She walked steadily to the first bank of elevators and pushed the up button, listening to the strange sounds that come from behind closed elevator doors.

  When she reached Cyrus’s room she paused. It said No Visitors. Then she recognized Estelle, sitting in a chair against the wall. Estelle got up quickly.