Quarterback Daddy (16 page)

“Don’t fall apart on me, kiddo. The baby is fine. Look.”

In fact, Michelle was gleeful, excited. He lifted her from the stroller, and she snuggled against him in her favorite position right on his shoulder under his chin. Funny. Ally loved that spot, too.

Despite her protestations, he knew Ally’s hands hurt, that they felt like pins and needles sticking and throbbing all at once. He’d been in the same position more than a few times in his life. She didn’t say a word now, just paced the hallway, hands out in front of her, mouth tight.

“I can only blame myself,” she muttered.

“Talking to me?” asked Dan.

She didn’t respond, just kept muttering. “Logical Alexis, perfect Alexis. So organized, she forgot the keys, forgot her gloves, put the baby in danger.”

“You did not! She’s absolutely fine.” Maybe Ally had been distracted by other things, like their engagement.

She came over and rubbed her cheek against Michelle’s. “Are you fine, sweet petunia? Daddy says you are.” She glanced at him. “I think she’s okay. I’m still new at this, too.”

“We’re both still learning, Ally,” he said, leading her into the kitchen.

“But I don’t want to make a mistake.”

He started to laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding. Honey, that’s part of life. That’s how you learn. Forget the football class, you should actually play a sport—soccer, volleyball, softball—any one of them will do. If you miss your mark, you do it better next time.”

She cocked her head, paused for a moment. “I’d hate all that attention on me. What if it’s my fault that the team loses?”

“That’s the way it goes,” he said with a shrug. “You don’t make the same mistake next time. What about every time you’re in court trying to win? How do you handle that pressure?”

“Easy. There are rules of procedure. I know them cold. And besides,” she added with a gleam in her eye, “I’m so new, I haven’t lost a case yet.”

Figured. “Your day will come at some point. Now, let’s see your hands.”

“They feel a little better.” She held them up, and he noticed something besides the frostbite.

“Did you lose your ring out there?” he asked, nodding toward the window.

She seemed surprised at the question, but then quietly said, “No, Dan, no. It’s very safe. Upstairs in my drawer.”

The time had come to lay everything down, and he was taking the lead. “You were right earlier when you said, ‘We can’t go on like this.’”

“I know,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Forget the apologies. Just answer one question.”

She raised her eyes to him and waited.

“What are you doing Wednesday night?”

“Wednesday? You want to wait two days to talk about the champagne and the Super Bowl after party?”

“I do. It’s important.” He’d wait two years if it would guarantee a successful outcome with Ally.

“Fair warning, Dan. I am not discussing our private lives in a locker room, a restaurant or even an AA meeting.”

What was she talking about? And then it hit him. He’d never told her where he went each week. Man, he had screwed up. She continued to stare at him, brow wrinkled, probably still trying to figure out his Wednesday night destination.

“I owe you an apology, Ally,” he said. “I didn’t mean to keep my whereabouts a secret.” He paused for a moment. “I do go to a meeting,” he said carefully, “but it’s with my therapist. I sought help because of you.”

“A therapist?” she whispered. “You went because of me?”

“I love you, Ally. And when you love someone, you want to do it right.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “So, will you come with me?”

S
HE WANTED TO MELT
against that strong, protective hand, pretend she hadn’t seen him drink that damn champagne. But she couldn’t pretend. Echoing the lives of her parents was not an option for her. Her disappointment in him was breaking her heart, and she didn’t know how she would survive.

Her poor hands started tingling again, but not because of the cold outside. She was afraid inside. Unsettled. He wanted her to go to a therapist with him, but if she went, a professional might ask
her
a few questions. She didn’t want that. She had nothing she wanted to say.

On the other hand, she’d already made her decision to break their engagement, so she had nothing more to lose by going with him. Logical conclusion.

“All right,” she said slowly. “I’ll go.” Above all else, the man deserved her support for taking such a dramatic step to overcome his problem.

“Thank you.”

“But I won’t wear the ring, Dan, because I can’t keep the promise it represents, not anymore.”

She saw the pain in his eyes, the hurt, the shadows. But all he did was nod. “I understand. You have to be true to yourself.”

Two evenings later, they left Michelle at home with a delighted Maria and headed toward the office of Dr. Marjorie Tanner, a behavioral psychologist specializing in addictions. They hadn’t discussed the ring again.

Dan reached over and squeezed Ally’s hands, which were folded in her lap like a schoolgirl’s.

“Look at you!” he laughed. “You’re not going to the guillotine. Relax. The doc’s a nice lady.”

He was probably right about the therapist, so what was Ally so afraid of? The discussions would be all about Dan, not about her.

She leaned back, stretched her arms out in front of her and took a deep breath. “I’m sure she is. I’m just an idiot.”

“Never that.”

The four-story building of psychiatric specialties was affiliated with one of Boston’s leading medical institutions. Dan knew his way around, from parking garage to evening access to the place.

“I would have gotten lost here,” Ally said.

“I never missed an appointment.”

Message received. He was dedicated to exploring his behavior and wanted her to know it.

Dan was right about the doc. Marjorie Tanner was a nice lady with salt-and-pepper hair, a cordial handshake and a warm smile. She led them to a conversational area of her office boasting club chairs and a sofa and table.

“Dan called to say you’d be along this evening, Ms. Brown, so I’m delighted to meet you before we conclude his sessions.”

A curveball. Ally cocked her head toward Dan. “Conclude? You never mentioned that.”

“Well, I’m not throwing away Dr. Tanner’s phone number,” he joked, “but I’m going to be right up-front here, Ally.”

He reached for her hand. “Alcohol is your hot button. It’s so hot, it scorches both of us. So I thought Dr. Tanner should be the one to explain the reason I can end these sessions now.”

She needed time to absorb this idea and remained silent.

The therapist spoke. “Dan, have you considered that Alexis might
prefer
to hear from you?”

“No. She doesn’t trust me.”

“Of course I trust you,” Ally interrupted.

“Not about this,” said Dan. “Let’s face it. A few sips of champagne after winning the Super Bowl—the Super Bowl!—became the eight-hundred-pound gorilla between us.”

He was right, and now they were confronting that gorilla. “But don’t you see, Danny? Once you fall off the wagon,” she whispered, “life will be just horrible. And I’m not going back there. No, no, no. I’ll never go back to
that.
”

His expression softened. “What happened in your house when Cal drank?”

Like a spark to dry wood, his question ignited her. Unwanted memories flooded her. Suddenly, it didn’t matter where she was or who was with her. She jumped from the chair and exploded.

“What the hell do you think happened, Dan? Did you think Cal threw me birthday parties, called me beautiful and smart and the best daughter a man could have? Did you think he was kind and loving and protective like you are with Michelle? Pu-leeze, give me a break. Don’t you get it yet?”

“Yeah, I get it,” he replied, starting to rise, but then sitting back in his chair. “Now you get this. I am not your father. I was never like him, and I will never be like him. You can take that to the bank and deposit it. That is my word.”

God, he was angry, but not yelling, not wild like Cal, not in her face. Instead, his voice was direct, so firm and direct—it demanded attention.

She listened.

“Am I a drunk, Ally? Have I been drinking? The disease doesn’t even run in my family! Think back. Did I slobber at the party in Houston?”

“Well, no. But that doesn’t mean you won’t.”

“I won’t because I’m not an alcoholic. Sure, I’ve abused the stuff now and then in the past, but I’m not addicted.”

Psychobabble and gobbledygook. “Prove it, Danny-boy. I saw you drunk the first day we met. I couldn’t get near you because you stank so bad. And don’t forget the time your brother drank his beer in a cold backyard so you wouldn’t be tempted to have one. He’s known you longer than I have, and he was concerned.”

“You saw me on a day I couldn’t handle grief. I was depressed, and I was self-medicating.”

“Just another excuse. Believe me, I’ve heard them all.”

He glanced at the therapist. “You want to step in here, Doc?”

“Sure,” she said calmly, as though she had nothing better to do, “because I can give Alexis some information she might not know.”

Ally could deal with information. As Dan would say, she was used to slicing and dicing facts. Analyzing them.

“A percentage of people abuse alcohol, and don’t get better—that is, they don’t stop drinking—even when they attend a twelve-step program or keep appointments with a therapist.”

“Because they’re faking it,” Ally pronounced. “They’re just going through the motions, and they don’t follow through when the meetings are over.” She was on firm ground again, thinking of Cal.

“Nope,” said the doc with a shake of her head. “These people don’t improve because they’re not getting treated for their real problem, the one that haunts them deep inside. The one they’re trying to forget.”

“Such as?” prompted Ally, interested despite her doubts.

“Such as soldiers with post-traumatic stress after combat or victims of child abuse—physical abuse, sexual abuse. Many grew up in alcoholic families, for example.”

Images floated in Ally’s head again, images she’d always managed to bury. Now, they pricked at the edges of her conscious mind, making her wince, making her body tremble.
Don’t tell.
She slapped her hand over her mouth.
Sh-u-sh.

“Those issues from childhood are the true culprits,” the doctor continued. “The alcohol dulls the pain, covers it up.”

“But only for a while,” said Ally, slowly placing her hand in her lap again. “And then they need more, I guess?”

Tanner nodded. “So it goes on until someone treating them recognizes the confusion. They’re abusing liquor but they are not alcoholics.”

Dan jumped into the discussion. “I knew what I was doing, Ally, every damn time I got blitzed. And I sure scared the hell out of my family. I should have found Dr. Tanner a year ago. But I told myself that everyone grieves in different ways.”

“Which is true,” said the therapist.

“Except, I didn’t recover,” Dan added.

Ally’s first instincts had been right. He loved his wife more than he could ever love anyone else. His grief encompassed him. Her throat began to hurt as she tried to be stoic.

“Ally! Sweetheart. I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m only trying to explain. And here’s the critical part. While I was grieving for Kim, there was something else, too. Something I was trying to cover up. And that something else was the issue killing me.”

He’d gotten her complete attention. Not just by what he said, but by how he looked. Red-faced, staring at the floor, he actually seemed ashamed.

“What, Dan?” she asked, kneeling next to him. “What could have upset you more than losing her?”

He barely met her glance. “In the end, I let her die alone. I was some husband. Some lousy husband. I wasn’t there. I was in Tampa, throwing a football like a madman. Her caregiver had left the room for a few minutes, and Kim just…just passed away. All alone.”

Guilt. His grief might have eased naturally except for the guilt. He was a sensitive man, one of the qualities Ally so appreciated. She squeezed his hand, hating to see him at his wit’s end.

“I’ve read that the dying often wait to be by themselves. They need the freedom to go, with nobody holding them back.”

“True,” Dr. Tanner said.

“The guilt ate me up,” he said, “and every so often, like during the week of my anniversary, I tried to ease that pain with Jack Daniel’s. After I met you, I realized I needed help dealing with it, so I found Dr. Tanner.”

“After you met me?” she whispered. “Because of the baby? Because of your new responsibilities?”

“No,” he replied, looking at her then, his dark eyes as black as eternity. “Because of you. I fell in love with you, Alexis Brown, and I don’t want to lose you over a glass of champagne.”

T
HE MAN HAD JUST
emptied his heart and exposed his most personal secrets for her examination. He had brought her to Dr. Tanner, whom he trusted and whose code of ethics matched Ally’s.

Dan had put everything on the line. For her.

He deserved better than Alexis Brown.

She was a coward. All her life, she’d been running from her past by chasing after two goals—education and career. But she’d never had the courage to want more. To expect more. To open herself up to love and go after it. She’d brushed that idea aside and never pictured herself with a richer, fuller life, a life with friends and a family of her own.

She’d never had the courage to find out why.

Until today. Until right now.

She had remained kneeling next to Dan’s chair, his hand still in hers. Staring at the wall behind him, she whispered, “Dan, I’m scared.”

“Oh, Ally.” The disappointment in his voice was palpable.

“No, no. I’m sorry. You misunderstood. I’m not scared of you. Just…” She squeezed his hand tightly, and whispered, “Hold my hand, too?”

“Absolutely.”

Warmth. His hands were warm around hers. As
always. Steady and supportive. As always. She glanced up at the woman who’d remained quietly watching.

Tell her. Tell her. Tell her!
“What you said before—”
Breathe, breathe.
“About child abuse. My father…he—he drank a lot. He hit a lot. And one night when I was fourteen, he was drunk and he said I was a woman…and he caught me and dragged me to the couch…and…and…I fought him…I tried…”