Balancing Act (12 page)

Twigg’s eyes met Rita’s. “In the first place, I have not been invited. Secondly, I have work to do.” Silently, he told Rita that he realized it would complicate things if he were to go with her. She needed this time with Charles and her own feelings.

Wordlessly, Rita thanked him.

“How about a game of chess, Twigg?” Rachel asked as he took his pie plate to the sink.

“Later. I want to help Rita with the dishes. I know those three-inch nails of yours don’t get themselves into dishwater,” he teased.

Not for the first time Rita was aware that he usually referred to her by her name instead of saying, “I want to help your mother with the dishes.” She was Rita Bellamy, to Twigg. Not Rachel’s mother. How nice, just to be herself.

Later, Twigg played chess with Rachel while Rita busied herself with her needlepoint. She would feel his eyes fall on her, and when she lifted her head she could read the message they spoke.

When Rita awoke the next morning she looked outside. Connie had been as good as her word. Her oldest son, Dick, had arrived sometime during the wee hours and plowed the road.

Rachel could go back to the city now, if she chose. Yet Rita knew her daughter would still be in the cottage when she returned. Perhaps she herself would spend the night in a motel rather than make the long trip back on the same day.

Twigg was waiting for her when she drove the car around the bend. Rita rolled down the window. “What are you doing up so early?” she asked, laughing at his rumpled hair and the stubble of beard on his chin.

“I couldn’t let you go off without telling you to drive carefully and to hurry back. You’re very special to me, lady, I hope you know that.”

Interstate 80 was free of snow, and Rita felt her shoulder muscles relax. It would be a good trip. She switched on the radio and heard Kenny Rogers singing “Lady.” She grinned, remembering Twigg’s departing words. She was glad he had kept it light between them. She didn’t want any declarations of love and promises that couldn’t be kept. Being “special” could mean so many things. It didn’t necessarily mean love.

“Do you expect to be hurt?” Connie had asked her. Rita pulled her thoughts away from Twigg. She should be thinking about Brett and what she would say when she saw him. It had been a long time. Because of the tickets Charles had sent them, they would be sitting next to one another all through the game. Somehow, she would face it when the time came. She wouldn’t worry about it now. Instead, she concentrated on Kenny Rogers and wished he would sing the song again.

Stopping at a restaurant for lunch, Rita delayed and lingered over coffee so she would arrive at the stadium just before game time. There was no point in arriving early and bearing up under the strain of spending all her time with Brett and his new wife.

Walking outside into the chill after the warmth of the restaurant, she was glad she had worn her mink jacket and high, fleece-lined boots. She wished Twigg was with her so the two of them could cheer for Charles. Twigg would like her son, and Charles would like Twigg. Perhaps, at first, there would be some resentment, but later they would learn to appreciate one another. She laughed uneasily. Whatever gave her the idea there would ever be a “later”? Now, and only now, was all that was important.

It was like old home week when Rita took her seat in the crowded college stadium. Surprisingly, Camilla and Tom were there. Brett hadn’t yet made his appearance. Camilla wrapped her arms around her mother. “Tom said we had to come and root for Charles. We had a devil of a time getting tickets though. We’re two rows ahead of you.”

“I’m so glad you came, honey. Charles will be so happy to have all of us here. He has a girl,” Rita whispered. “He’s bringing her up to the cottage next weekend.”

“We had our dinner with Tom’s folks. I’m glad I came, Mom. Family is, and should be, very important.” Rita steeled herself for Camilla’s diatribe on family closeness, complete with charged and veiled statements concerning one’s duty to family solidarity. Instead, she heard her oldest daughter say, “The kids miss you, Mom. Let’s not be angry with one another. Maybe one of these days I’ll understand and I’ll handle it better. Just hang in there with me, okay?”

“Okay,” Rita said softly, hardly daring to believe her ears. “You’d better take your seat. I’ll see you later. They’re tuning up for the ‘National Anthem.’ ”

Tom put his arm around Camilla and looked at her approvingly. He leaned over from his tall, rangy height to plant a kiss on Rita’s cheek. “Do you know how wonderful you look?” he asked.

She laughed; the sound was carefree and almost girlish to her own ears. “I feel wonderful, Tom.”

“Daddy isn’t here?” Camilla complained.

“He will be, don’t worry. He probably had trouble getting a parking space. Are you warm enough? I brought a blanket.”

“We did too. Keep it, it must be all of ten degrees.”

There were three minutes to play in the first quarter when Brett arrived with his wife. Rita’s eyes widened in surprise as he ushered Melissa past pairs of knees. “Rita,” he said pleasantly, “this is Melissa.”

“Hello.” Rita smiled at the young, dark-haired woman. How young, was her first thought. How pretty and wholesome, was her second. How very, very pregnant, was her third! It was a shock, but not unpleasant. Funny, Camilla had never mentioned Melissa’s pregnancy. Did she think her mother would be devastated by the news? Truthfully, Rita knew that only months ago it would have sent her into a panic and a depression. Now, since Twigg, she had gained a different perspective.

Brett looked happy. Happier than she had seen him in years. Contented. A contentment and excitement that she had once been responsible for, when she was young and hugely pregnant. And Brett looks younger too, she thought, softer and somehow more mellow. He’s not fighting for his identity; his ego is intact. How awful it must have been for him when he was so insecure and uncertain of his place as her husband, of his masculinity and position as head of the household. Her career and its rewards had stripped him of that, she knew. Money was freedom and, according to Brett, possessed a masculine gender. Freedom was for men, just like power. She was glad to see he wasn’t shattered by the changes she had wrought in his life. He had been and still was very important to both her and their children.

Melissa glanced up at Brett when he tucked a thick blanket around her knees. She adores him, Rita saw. Did I look up at him that way? Of course I did, when all I wanted from him was love and security. As soon as I wanted more, like support and understanding and respect, that’s when he began to balk. Men like Brett revered women, they didn’t respect them—there was a difference. Like gallant, white knights their image of themselves only shines through a woman’s adoring eyes.

A sudden thought stunned Rita. Brett hadn’t deserted her after all! He hadn’t divorced her because he had found her lacking. No, to the contrary, he had found Rita, the young, adoring, dependent Rita all over again in Melissa! His new wife was probably the same person Rita had been at the same tender age!

Pleased with her realization, Rita sat back and watched the playing field. How nice to know that Brett had loved the life he had shared with her enough that he had actively sought to duplicate it. She had not been so much a failure as a wife and mother if he sought the same things in Melissa. Brett was positively beaming, proud as a rooster and just a little pathetic. What would happen, Rita wondered, if Melissa proved to be a “late bloomer” as she was?

“Are Camilla and Tom here?” Brett asked. “Where’s Rachel?”

“Camilla and Tom are two rows ahead of us. Rachel is still up at the lake. She wants to do some skiing.” She saw Brett’s eyes go to his wife and her chattering teeth. Poor thing, her coat barely covered her stomach. She must be freezing. Rita removed the heavy plaid robe from her knees and nudged Brett. “Here. Give this to Melissa. She’s cold.”

Brett rewarded her with a smile. How well she remembered those smiles. They used to light up her life during those early years. When had smiles ceased to be enough?

Melissa seemed a bit wary of taking her husband’s ex-wife’s blanket. “I’ll just go down and squeeze in between Camilla and Tom,” Rita said. “It was nice to see you, Brett. Very nice. Melissa, much happiness with your new baby.” The young girl nodded and tried to smile, pulling the blanket closer around her. “Brett, why don’t you take Melissa home? This is no time for her to get sick. I’ll explain to Charles. He’ll understand.”

“If you think he’ll understand, okay,” Brett said, relieved.

“Before you go, can you spare a minute for Camilla and Tom? They’d like to say hello.”

Brett looked at Rita, thinking how wonderful she looked. Fresher, more confident . . . something he couldn’t put a finger on. There was a style about her, a certain flair . . . a man. It was a man! The thought saddened him. Rita had so much to offer a man, this he knew from experience. Warmth, tenderness, loyalty. Why hadn’t she been able to offer him those things when they were married? Why had she insisted on pursuing that silly career? Melissa was holding on to his arm to keep her balance. No matter, Brett thought with certainty. He had Melissa now, and this time he was going to be certain
this
wife didn’t get crazy ideas!

Camilla was stunned when she looked up at her father and stepmother. Her father hadn’t said a word about the baby. Clearly, talking on the phone every day and seeing were two different things.

Melissa and Camilla hugged and Brett and Tom shook hands. It was obvious to Rita that they all shared warm feelings for one another and she realized she was glad. Brett had divorced her, not the children, and it would be unfair to expect them to take sides against their father. Brett lovingly assisted Melissa up the stairs to the exit, a protective arm about her. Camilla approached Rita excitedly. “My God, Mother, my kids will be that baby’s nieces and nephews. Tom, say something!” Her husband grinned at Rita and went back to watching the game.

“Mother, say something.”

Rita laughed. “Camilla, your father is deliriously happy. Let him enjoy it. You may feel uncomfortable for a while, but eventually you’ll get used to the idea. Now watch your brother; he has the ball.”

After the game in the Knife and Fork, the campus coffee shop, Rita waited along with Camilla and Tom for Charles and his girl, Nancy.

“I wonder what she’s like,” Camilla speculated.

“I’m kind of curious myself.” Rita smiled.

“If I know Charles, she’s probably centerfold material. He always goes for the flash.” Tom grinned.

Charles walked in, his hair damp and slicked back. A young girl in a heavy jacket with a hood was beside him. How big he looked. How tiny she looked. There was an air of protectiveness about Charles when he gently pushed the girl forward. “Mom, Camilla, Tom, this is Nancy Ames. Nancy, this is my family. Where’s Dad?”

Rita quickly explained. She dreaded the look on her son’s face. Instead, she saw it split in an ear-to-ear grin. “You’re kidding! That’s great. Maybe it’ll be a boy and I can take him under my wing.”

Nancy slid into the booth. “I’ve read all your books, Mrs. Bellamy. I think they’re super. All the girls in the dorm read them. We don’t pass them around either; we each buy our own.”

“That’s so nice to hear.” Rita smiled. Charles preened. His girl read his mom’s books and liked them. Hell, what more could a guy ask for?

Was she mistaken or was there a new note of respect in Camilla’s eyes? “Are we all set for this weekend, Mom?” Charles asked.

“All set. I even went out and bought two snowmobiles. His and hers, so to speak. That snow is going to be around for a long time. I’m glad you’re coming up, Charles. I have a friend I want you to meet. His name is Twigg Peterson. I think you’re going to like him.” The statement bubbled out of her and she realized how good it felt to say those words. Charles and Twigg would like one another, and the thought pleased her. She wanted her children to know the man in her life. Seeing Brett again with her new confidence and this sense of herself had relieved her of the burden of the past. She could be free of old memories and ancient hurts and could look to the future. She could believe in herself and could trust in love. Twigg’s love.

“I’d like to spend more time with you, but I have a long drive ahead of me. Camilla, call me next week. Remember, any time you want to come up, the door is open. Tom, take care of her for me. Nancy, it was nice meeting you. When you come up, I’ll have a copy of the bound galleys for my new book. Perhaps you’d like to see what a book looks like before it gets to the bookstore.”

“Charles, do you need anything?” she whispered in his ear as she hugged him.

“I’m okay, Mom. Dulcie sent the brownies. In fact, she sends a batch regularly now. I’ll see you on the weekend. This Twigg guy, is he the one Rachel bent my ear about?”

“One and the same.” Rita laughed.

“She struck out, huh?” Charles whispered in her ear. Rita shrugged. “You always were a class act, Mom.” He kissed her soundly on both cheeks and then walked her to the door. “Drive carefully. It’s supposed to snow again this evening.”