Chances Are (17 page)

“I wanted someone to care, just about me. I wanted to mean something to someone. So I married the first girl who showed the slightest bit of interest in me.” He took a breath. “I wanted to blame Gayle for our breakup and for a long time, I did. It was easier. It was always easier to blame someone for my circumstances. But the reality was, I was just as much at fault as Gayle. She used me and I used her. She married me because she had grand ideas about who I would become—some big corporate tycoon who would provide her with this wonderful life. And I wasn't interested in giving anything of myself. I just wanted to be taken care of.”

He chuckled lightly. “After we broke up, I just ran from woman to woman—searching. And then I met you, the first woman who truly touched me in a place I'd never been touched and you represented the very notion that I'd come to hate.” He slowly shook his head. “I couldn't reconcile the two things. Separate them.”

He looked at her for the first time since he began to talk, and saw the tears glimmering in her eyes, sliding down her cheeks.

“I—I'm so sorry, Gary. I know how hard—how difficult if must have been for you.”

“I honestly believe you do. If anyone could possibly know it would be you.” He tried to smile.

“How did you find out about your mother?”

“She apparently got real sick after she had me. She wound up in the hospital. They put it all together. When I was older and was put into counseling because of my acting out in school and not getting along at any of the placements, I took a peek at my file. It was all right there in black-and-white.”

She stroked his close-cropped hair. “So you did get to counseling?”

He shrugged. “It was part of my regimen. I saw enough counselors to write a directory. I can't say they helped. I know they didn't. Not due to lack of skill, but lack of willingness on my part to let them help. I didn't
want
to feel better. I seemed like that's what was holding me together—my anger. If they ‘helped' to take that away, I thought I'd just fall apart.”

He leaned his head back against the cushion of the couch and closed his eyes, wanting to block out the memories.

“What about now? If you're letting go of your anger, your resentment, what will hold you together?” She knew she sounded like the social worker she'd been trained to be, not the concerned lover. But she didn't believe that's what he needed, not now. He'd reached a plateau in his life. Perhaps their relationship was the catalyst, the turning point for him and he was ready to move forward. But he needed to be clear about that and the reasons why.

“I won't lie to you, Dee. I'm still angry. But I have realized, it's not everyone's fault. After seeing the young women at the house, hearing some of their stories that they were willing to share, the hardships that many of them endured just to keep their children, it slowly got me to realize that my mother is not the norm, not the one to set the standard. I only wish that she'd had a place to go.”

“It's because of situations like yours that I started Chances Are,” she began thinking of her own catalyst, wondering how her life would be different had her parents not put her into the street. Would she have turned out the way she did? Would she have felt the need for a place like Chances? She didn't think so. “Because of Chances, young girls have a safe haven, and don't have to endure the desperation that your mother felt. It provides some semblance of a future for them and their children, allows them to believe that their life isn't over, it has simply taken another turn and they must be prepared for the journey.”

“Maybe if you'd been around then, things would have been different. But then you'd be too old for me.” He gave her a crooked grin.

She laughed lightly, then sobered. “What happened to you and to so many others like you is what I struggle against every day.” She took a breath, collecting her thoughts. “Chances Are is a necessary evil. You may not agree with its existence, but you can't ignore the reasons why it does exist, why it's necessary.”

“No,” he said, his voice thick. “I can't.”

She laid her head against his chest, closed her eyes, lulled by the steady beat of his heart. Garrett had taken a leap of faith. He'd trusted her enough to unveil a part of himself, of his life that had been difficult and painful—had colored his way of thinking. The weight of the knowledge settled heavily on her spirit.

She wanted to be just as honest. Just as open. But the words wouldn't come. She hadn't uttered them in eighteen years. The only one who had a glimmer of what she'd endured was Betsy. Even Terri only knew just so much.

It haunted her. It molded her. It kept her from being able to trust those who claimed to love and care about her. Desperately she wanted to.

The words rose to her throat. The images danced behind her closed lids.

She swallowed, and opened her eyes.

 

“The way things are going we should be finished by the end of the week,” Garrett said as he and Jason packed up the equipment at the end of their day.

Jason took a quick look around to see who was in earshot. “Is your relationship with Dione going as well as the project?” He glanced at Garrett.

“Better.” He blew out a breath and grinned. “She makes me happy, man. I just—I don't know how to explain it. She's everything I could ever want. She's fun, intelligent. She has compassion that's bottomless and she accepts me for who I am.”

“Bricks, man. I told you to duck.” Jason chuckled. “But on the real side, I'm glad you didn't take my piece of advice about leaving that alone. She seems good for you.”

“She is.”

Jason clapped him on the back. “Be happy, G.”

“That I am, my brother.”

“I'm gonna start hauling this stuff out to the van.” He tucked the tripod under his arm and picked up the monitor.

“I'm right behind you. I'll bring out the cameras.”

While Jason went out to the car, Garrett went to look for Dione.

 

“Hi, Brenda. We're finished for the day,” Garrett said, sticking his head in the office.

“How'd it go?”

“Fine.” Garrett came into the room. “Betsy took us to each of the apartments and we got some great comments from the girls and shots of them in their living environment, cooking, washing, taking care of their kids. We'll take the next few days to look over the footage, see what we have and if there's anything else we need. If not, then the next and final shoot will be the Christmas celebration.”

Brenda grinned. “That will be wonderful. We have a major surprise for Dione. But I've been sworn to secrecy.”

He flashed his best “trust me” smile. “You can tell me. In fact, you should tell me so that I'll be prepared for taping—angles—all that stuff.”

Brenda folded her arms and pursed her lips. “You know you have to do better than that. And even if you did, I wouldn't tell you anyway.”

“I'm crushed.”

“You'll just have to be.”

He braced his palms on her desk and leaned a bit closer. “You sure I can't persuade you to at least give me a hint?”

“If you don't get yourself out of here—” she shot out, trying to sound threatening but she couldn't keep the smile off her face, especially with him looking at her with those big eyes and dimpled smile.

“Fine.” He straightened. “Women and secrets—can't have one without the other,” he mumbled on his way out. “And they're so good at keeping them.”

 

Dione had been struggling with her conscience for the past few days. What Garrett had revealed to her about his mother had really shaken her, but at the same time it had allowed her to fully understand why he harbored such ill feelings and resentment about teen mothers—because of what they represented in his life.

She knew that in order to build a relationship it needed to be built on trust and honesty. Two major elements she'd been unable to live up to.

Everyone, Garrett included, had this picture of her, this “do good” woman who had her life in order, who had focus and agenda. She'd lived with the same illusion for so long, at times she believed it herself. But if she was as honest with Garrett as he had been with her, she knew she'd have to tell Niyah the truth. She could risk, she was willing to risk losing Garrett because of her inability to be truthful. But she would not risk losing her daughter's love and respect as a result of a truth that was best left buried.

Knowing these things, she knew she couldn't pretend to be building a relationship with Garrett. A relationship built on dishonesty was doomed to failure.

Her heart seemed to constrict in her chest, the right and wrong of her logic waging a vicious war.

She loved him. Heaven knows she loved him. And it was good she'd never told him. Said the words out loud. It would be that much easier.

 

“Hey, beautiful,” Garrett greeted, stepping into the room.

The tightness got a stronger grip and she nearly winced with the pain. She forced a smile.

“Hey, yourself. All done?”

“Just finished.”

He came around to her side of the desk, bent his head and kissed her cheek. He'd wanted to kiss her lips, see if they tasted at all like the berry color she wore on them, but she'd turned just a second before his mouth met her flesh.

A flash of unease rode through him. He reigned it in.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes.” She turned her gaze away, afraid that he'd see the lie in her eyes. “Just a little tired.”

“Hmm.” He walked around behind her and massaged her neck. “Thought you might like to know that we're pretty close to finishing. The only thing to shoot is the Christmas party,” he said, his voice dropping a note as his fingers masterfully eased the knots of tension from her neck. Heat began to flow through her, even as she tried to keep it at bay.

“So you won't be needing to come back until then?” she asked sounding a bit too businesslike for his tastes. He dipped his head to the side to try to see her profile, gauge what it was he was sensing.

“Probably not,” he answered, pacing his words. “Unless I think we need some extra shots.”

She looked at her computer screen and the latest proposal she'd been drafting for the past week. She began typing in some additional information in the Program Outline section.

“What do you want to do later?” he asked, not liking the vibes he was getting.

“I—really don't think I'm up to anything this evening. I want to try to finish this proposal, or at least most of it.” She wouldn't look at him.

They'd spent every evening and weekend together since Thanksgiving, as if they were trying to make up for all the time and the years they'd lost in not knowing each other. At least that's what he'd thought.

Maybe he was wearing out his welcome.

He stopped rubbing her neck.

She kept typing.

He stepped back. “So I guess I'll talk with you later.”

She pressed her lips together in a thin smile. “Sure.”

He inhaled deeply, slanted his eyes in her direction then walked out.

When she heard his footsteps on the stairs, she hung her head, releasing the shaking breath she'd held. Her throat tightened, and that sinking sensation rocked back and forth in her stomach.

Her daughter, or the man she was in love with? Take some happiness for herself, or take it away from the one she loved more than life itself?

There was no choice. There never had been.

 

Garrett jumped in the van and slammed the door so hard the windows rattled.

Jason snapped his head in Garrett's direction. “What's with you, man?”

Garrett slid down in his seat, pulled his baseball cap over his eyes. “Just drive,” he growled.

 

She knew she was doing the right thing, the wrong way. She knew it in the days that followed and she came up with one reason after the other why she couldn't see him, couldn't talk too long on the phone, didn't have time to meet him after work or listen to Billie on Sunday afternoon.

And it was eating her alive. But she needed his feelings for her to erode, dissolve, not be fueled by some vain hope that things could work out, “if they could just talk about it.” The truth was if she saw him, looked into his eyes, let his fingers stroke her skin, heard his voice for a moment too long,
her
resolve would erode, dissolve until there was nothing left. And she would be back in his arms again, giving in to the love that had taken hold of her and wouldn't let go.

But she'd always seemed to make a sacrifice for love. For the better good. She endured her father's beating for the love of Michael. She'd lived on the street because she loved the baby growing inside of her. She created the illusion of a perfect world for the love of her daughter, and Chances Are for the love of so many young girls who could have been her over and again.