Condemn Me Not (21 page)

Warmed
by the sight of her child’s pleasure, Simone agreed.  “It was a great party,
wasn’t it?”

“Most
definitely.”  Mariah took a step closer.  “I still wear that necklace.”

“I
know.”  Though the occasions had grown less frequent, with Mariah’s collection
of baubles growing over the years and her sense of style changing, Simone
noticed each and every time she wore the pendant.  “It’s a beautiful piece.”

“Very
classic, very Dad.”

Simone
nodded.

Coming
to within a foot of her, Mariah leaned against the sofa’s edge.  Linking arms
across her chest, a bold spark fired up her gaze.  “You know, it’s kinda your
fault that I’m starting this business.”

“My
fault?”  Startled by the statement, Simone set the picture back in place and
turned, wondering if she was in for another news flash from the recycling
business front.

“Yes.”

A
wry smile crossed Mariah’s lips which served to confuse her further.  Simone
had had about all the guilt that she could handle.  What did they think—that
she was guilt-Velcro?  “May I ask how you make that connection?”

Mariah
fiddled with the seam of the corner sofa cushion, the tobacco brown leather
lustrous in the low light.  “You’re the one who made me believe I could do it.”

Surprise
dissolved Simone’s defensive posture.  She sank weight into her hip against the
table, but satisfaction elevated her spirit. 
You made me believe I could do
it
.  She couldn’t be more proud.  “You can do anything you set your mind to,
you know that, right?”

Mariah
nodded.  “I want to be like you.  I want to be successful, pay my own way.”

Mitchell’s
words drifted to mind. 
She looks up to you.  You’re her role model
.

Was
he right
? 
Did Mariah really care about her opinion?  Really want to be like her?

Mariah
brandished a timid smile.  “I want you to be proud of me, Mom.”

Simone
lifted away from the table, reached out to touch her daughter’s cheek.  Mariah’s
skin was supple and warm beneath her fingertips.  Simone regretted that her
daughter didn’t already understand how very proud she was of her.  “I
am
proud of you.  So proud.”

“Even
though I’m not going to college?”

“College
isn’t going anywhere.”  Simone brushed her knuckles lightly against Mariah’s cheek,
the last eighteen years flashing through her heart in a rush of pleasurable
ache.  The years had melted away, moved incredibly fast, yet there was so much
to be done, to be experienced, so much life yet to be lived.  “I wouldn’t rule
it out,” Simone said.  “You may choose to go at a later date, you may choose
not.  And if you don’t, you don’t.”  Old reservations pulled at her, but she
unleashed their grip.  There was no room for doubt.  Not anymore.  “Your father
didn’t go to school and look at him,” she touted.  “He didn’t turn out so bad.”

A
smile tugged at Simone’s mouth as she realized how easy it was to say those
words.  It was a proclamation of fact.  Mitchell was a self-made success.  If
he could do it, Mariah could do it.  Whether Simone liked it or not, there was
more than one way to write a business plan.

Mariah
smiled, clearly pleased by her mother’s acceptance.  She raised her eyebrows in
a hopeful pose.  “Does that mean you might reconsider giving me the money from
my college fund?”

“Not
so fast, sister.  Whether you like it or not, I’m holding out hope for
college.”

Mariah
frowned, though it was clear she harbored no serious displeasure.

“My
money, my prerogative,” Simone said.  “And there’s no better time to start your
education in business than right now.  Rule number one,” Simone inserted a
stiff forefinger between them, enjoying the moment immensely.  “She who
controls the money makes the decision.”

Mariah
laughed, her delight spilling into the room.  “How could I have forgotten?  Yet
another reason I want to own my own business—I want to make the rules!”

Simone’s
pleasure faded.  “It won’t be easy, you know.”

“I
know.  But like you always say, nothing easy to come by is worth having.”

Mariah
made it sound so simple.  Years of hard work invested in her child, her career,
guidance developed over the course of a lifetime and her child simply recites
it back to her, as though nothing more were required.  Mariah knew the rules. 
She would find the prize.  There was nothing more Simone could do but support
her.

Simone
pulled her daughter into a hug and squeezed.  “I love you.”

“I
love you too, Mom.”

Three
little words, three hugely important words.  Had she said them enough? Simone
suddenly wondered.  Did Mariah know how much she was loved?  Did she understand
the depth and breadth of her mother’s feelings, the sheer ferocity with which
she cared—about her well-being, her future, her…
everything
?  Simone
squeezed harder, her daughter responding in kind.  Head to head, chest to
chest, she and Mariah were now on the same team.  They were crossing a bridge,
moving to the next stage, the next platform, and for that they needed a new mix
of trust and love, guidance and friendship.

Simone
indulged in the embrace.  They were too few, too infrequent and she was intent
on savoring every one.  There was no way Mariah could understand the full
extent of a mother’s love until she became one herself.  Everything changed
when you had a baby.  Your body, your mind, but mostly your heart.  Life was
never the same after you had a child.  It was fuller, richer, because one
special human being had entered your world.

CLAIRE
AND SIMONE

Claire
slid the metal sheet pan laden with quartered potatoes into the lower oven, a
rush of heat flushing her cheeks and neck as she pushed the door closed.  Tossing
the floral heat cloth to the counter, she programmed the timer for forty minutes. 
Retrieving the plate of chocolate chip cookies, still warm, the air infused
with the scent of chocolate and buttery brown sugar, she returned to the
kitchen table, offering one to Simone.

“Are
you sure?” Claire persisted, setting the plate down on the table.

She
nodded her head.  “I’m sure.”

Claire
resumed her seat beside Simone.  “They’re my Toll House specialties,” she
tempted with a smile.

“I’m
good,” Simone replied dully, toying with the white tip of her French manicure.

Simone
was here to apologize, not to snack.  She had called earlier, begging for a
second chance at being her friend—which was silly.  There was no need for
either.  Claire had understood Simone was only speaking her heart, but she told
her to come over anyway.

Rebecca
and the boys weren’t scheduled to be home for another two hours, and she could
use the company.  As for Jim, the man never set foot in the house before seven. 
“How’s Mariah?” she asked, steering conversation down normal lines.  Claire didn’t
want every conversation they had to revolve around doctors and illness.  She
wanted to talk about life and living, even if it meant broaching the thorny
issues between them.

“She’s
good.”  Unexpectedly, a hopeful bounce lifted Simone’s expression.  “She’s not
moving in with Logan.”

“She’s
not?” Claire asked.  She would have pegged that decision to the cork board and
called it mission accomplished.  “How did you manage that—and please don’t tell
me you succeeded in bribing Logan.”  A tactic she still couldn’t believe her
friend had tried.

A
sly smile eased onto Simone’s lips.  “Didn’t have to.  I told her she could
stay home.”

“
You
did
?”  Claire’s surprise was complete.

Simone
nodded.  “I couldn’t let her do it.  I couldn’t stand by and watch her walk
into a sham of love and commitment.  Living together is a trap.  She’d walk in
that front door and assume it meant she and Logan were a couple, that they shared
a future.”  Simone paused, laid her right hand flat on the table, the turquoise
stone ring shiny and bright against the silver band.

Simone
concentrated on Claire.  “But you know it doesn’t.”  Simone lowered her eyes,
and the line of black lashes underscored her point.  “It’s nothing but an
escape route.”

Claire
understood.  Commitment was commitment, no matter what challenge lay in its
path.  Playing house was nothing more than a charade for true commitment.

“If
she and Logan are meant to be together, they’ll make it happen.”

“What
about your promotion?” Claire ventured, almost afraid to ask.  Simone had
revealed the opportunity on the way to meet Teresa at the grocery.  But the job
was in Chicago.  How would she manage if Mariah was staying on at home?

“I
told Len it wasn’t my time.”

It
was a guttural blow.  “Oh,
Simone
.”

Claire
reached out for Simone’s hand, folding it within her own.  This was the
opportunity Simone had been working for her entire career, the end game, the
position that would place her securely at the top of her profession.  Simone
had finally been accorded her due.  It must have killed her to turn it down.

“How
does a mother walk away from her child?” Simone asked, her demeanor suddenly cracking. 
“How does she throw her hands up in the air and say ‘Fine, go ruin your life. 
See if I care.’?”  She paused, tears filling her eyes.  The plea emanating from
deep in Simone’s heart reached clear into Claire’s.  “She doesn’t,” Simone
stated.  “I can’t.”  Claire felt Simone’s hand trembling and squeezed it with
her own.  “I can’t do it,” Simone repeated.  She shook her head.  “I can’t.” 
The tears spilled over.

“Can’t”
wasn’t in Simone’s dictionary.  To hear her say the words now almost broke
Claire’s heart in two.  Except that she was so damn proud of Simone.  “I know
you can’t,” Claire told her friend.  Just like she couldn’t give up on Rebecca
or the boys.  She continued to hold Simone’s hand.  There was no longer a need
for words.

Sunset
cast the room in muted shades of gold, the tiny floral pattern disappearing
into the wall as daylight merged with night.  In the air the cozy scent of slow-roasted
chicken began to saturate the room with the promise of a home-cooked meal.  In
an hour the kids would be home, followed by their father, the house made comfortable
by the presence of family.  As Claire burrowed into the feeling of home.  This
was safety.  A place where friends came together and shared their hearts, their
troubles, laid their worries to rest.

An
understanding passed between the women as they sat connected by a single
grasp.  Whether a woman worked outside the home or in, earned millions for her
time or a mere “thank you,” a mother was a mother first; everything else came
second.  A mother would do what was necessary for the sake of her children. 
She would sacrifice, she would sustain, she would nurture and she would nudge. 
Whatever the situation demanded, she would give it.  And not because her
children defined her, but because love burned stronger than ambition, pulled
harder than self-gratification.  A mother’s love was the strongest love of all.

It
was instinct.  It was natural, the most natural love in the world.

“Chicago
isn’t going anywhere, right?” Claire prodded.  Reaching over, she wiped the
moisture from Simone’s tear-stained cheeks, makeup smearing beneath her
fingers.

Simone
smiled, radiant in her darkest hour.  “Hasn’t for the last hundred years.”

“It
will be there when you’re ready.  Your company knows a good thing when they see
it.”  Simone’s smile faltered.  Did she second-guess her decision?  Claire
wondered.  Had she thought it through in that most analytical and painstaking
way of hers, or had emotion run wild, the aftershocks threatening to drown her in
regret?

“It’s
not worth losing my daughter,” Simone said.

Simply
stated, Claire squeezed her hand.  “Nothing is.”

Simone
squeezed back, then wiped her eyes, which were reddening against the amber
flecks.  “Nor is it worth losing my best friend.  Will you forgive me?”

“There’s
nothing to forgive.”

“No? 
How about my bone-headed, stubborn-minded mulish behavior?”

Claire
laughed.  “But that’s one of the things I like best about you!”

Simone’s
expression twisted.  “Seriously?”

“Seriously. 
And it’s exactly that strength I’m going to need in the next six months.”

Simone
cleared her face of all sarcasm, all jest and said, “We’re going to beat this.”

“I
know we are.  And I think you did the right thing,” Claire replied quietly.

“Wish
I could be so sure.”  Simone swept her gaze around the kitchen, her doubts
nakedly revealed as she struggled with her decision.  “Work is such a huge part
of who I am, you know?  Giving up this promotion scares me a little.”

But
it was the fear tucked into the corners of her soft brown eyes that spoke
volumes to Claire.  Simone was crossing into unchartered territory.  She wasn’t
used to detours or stop signs.  She was green-light ambitious.  “You’ll get the
next one.”