Waking Up in Dixie (37 page)

“If he hadn’t,” Elizabeth said, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation. So it’s all good. We can all start over and try to do better.”

Patti peered at her, serious. “Can
you
forgive Daddy?” she asked. “Is that why you haven’t come home?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Elizabeth admitted, “but I have forgiven him. The thing is, I’m still not sure what the right thing is for me and your daddy.”

“That’s easy,” Patti said. “The right thing is for you to come home. We all love you, and we miss you.”

That didn’t include her mother-in-law. Elizabeth shuddered to think how Augusta would react if P.J. spread his lies.

As if she’d read Elizabeth’s mind, Patti said, “I told Gamma what happened. All of it.”

Oh, Lord. “And?”

Patti shrugged. “At first, she got mad at Daddy for telling me what he’d done. Then she blamed you. That made me mad, so I told her it wasn’t your fault. Then I said she had to be nice to you, or I’d quit coming to see her.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Elizabeth said, “I really appreciate your taking up for me, but I don’t ever want to come between you and Gamma. She loves you so much, and she’s so lonely.”

“Well, she’d better behave herself,” Patti declared. “Or else.”

“Now you sound just like her,” Elizabeth teased.

Patti laughed. “Oh, God, no. Spare me.” Then she sobered. “Gamma knows everything now, and she knows we don’t believe what that guy said. We can all hold our heads high, no matter what anybody says. So you can come home.”

“Oh, honey. I wish it were that simple, but it’s not.” How could she explain what she wasn’t sure of, herself? “I love your daddy, but life with him is life in Whittington, and I’m not ready to go back to that.” She decided to be completely honest with her daughter. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be.”

“Then we’ll move!” Patti said. “ ‘We can do that. People move all the time.” She brightened. “Daddy’s loaded. We could get an apartment in Manhattan. Or a place in Hawaii. Or even better, Santa Barbara. It’s gorgeous. I’ve seen it on TV.”

Patti’s enthusiasm lifted Elizabeth’s spirits, but it didn’t change anything. “I’ll think about it. Meanwhile, would you like to help me bring in some pine branches? I dropped an armful up on the road when I saw your daddy’s car and thought the worst.”

“I’m really sorry I scared you,” Patti repeated as she followed Elizabeth toward the back door.

“Forget it. The important thing is, you’re here, and that makes me very, very happy.” Elizabeth opened the door to a breeze scented with the promise of fall. “When we get back, I’ll cook supper.”

“I’ll help you,” Patti volunteered for the first time since she was seven.

“Great.” If things kept up this way, maybe they could even be friends. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

And Elizabeth was, for all of two weeks.

Patti brought out her pictures from Europe and told Elizabeth all about the trip. Even though Augusta hadn’t been up to snuff, the two of them had had a really good time.

Howe continued to call every few days, and they agreed that art school was a good idea for Patti. When he said his mother wasn’t doing well, Elizabeth couldn’t help wondering if Patti’s ultimatum was to blame, but she didn’t say so.

So far, P.J. hadn’t showed up again, and Howe said there was no evidence he’d followed through on his threats. As a matter of fact, P.J. had been blessedly silent.

Once those issues had been discussed, their conversations degenerated into stilted chats. Hearing the loneliness in Howe’s voice, Elizabeth felt guiltier every time she hung up.

Away from the bad influence of her party-hardy friends, Patti read and took long walks with her mother, admitting she was tired of boozing and didn’t want to screw up her life. Elizabeth did her best to be supportive without offering solutions. Patti
had to find those for herself. There were meetings she could go to. They both knew it.

Day by day, their relationship entered new ground. They looked up art schools on Patti’s laptop and planned to visit them after the new year. But as the days grew shorter and colder, Patti grew restless and started going out at night. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out she was partying with the locals.

Then, two weeks after their big heart-to-heart talk with its promises of new beginnings, Elizabeth got up at three in the morning and headed to the refrigerator for some cold water. Entering the darkened living room, she was met by the reek of booze and turned to find Patti, missing a shoe, passed out cold on the couch. Elizabeth tried to rouse her, but Patti just grumbled, then belched hugely—releasing another miasma of whiskey breath—and swatted her away.

So Elizabeth covered her with a quilt and sat watching her daughter in the darkness, praying about what she should do.

If she told Howe, he would probably want to come get Patti and lay down the law, but Elizabeth knew enough to know that wouldn’t work. Yet she couldn’t have Patti driving drunk, either. The mountain roads were treacherous enough in the dark, cold sober. She might kill someone—or herself.

Elizabeth didn’t want to ruin their newfound relationship, but she’d have to address this, somehow. Shivering and discouraged, she went to bed.

The next morning when Patti emerged, haggard, from her room at eleven, Elizabeth decided to give her some time to wake up before broaching the subject. “How about some breakfast?”

“My stomach’s a little shady.” Patti winced against the morning sun. “I think I’ll just have some cereal.”

“Okay.” Elizabeth made her own bacon and eggs, ignoring Patti’s occasional frown at the strong aromas. She set her plate on the counter. “Coffee?”

Patti lifted a staying hand, gingerly shaking her head.

Elizabeth poured her own, hoping that Patti’s hangover was awful enough to act as a deterrent.

Patti sat down, leaving a stool between them. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said in the surly tone Elizabeth recognized all too well.

“You do? That’s a pretty neat trick,” Elizabeth responded, doing her best to keep from sounding sarcastic. “Should I alert the media?”

“Very funny,” Patti grumbled, but her mood lightened a little. She focused on her cereal as the kitchen clock ticked away five minutes of quiet.

“I was stupid last night,” she said at last, the sullenness gone. “I met this cute guy, and he invited me and some girls from Atlanta to a party at his parents’ weekend place. Once I got there, he started flirting with me. Then this local girl challenged me to do some shooters.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why I felt like I had to keep up. I knew I had to drive home. But I kept on drinking, and next thing I knew, the guy was driving me home in Daddy’s car.”

She frowned, her eyes losing focus. “He could have been anybody, a
rapist,
” she said with chilling insight. “And I was in the car with him.” Stricken, she turned to Elizabeth. “How could I be so stupid?”

Elizabeth was afraid to ask what came next, but she had to know. “Did he do anything to you? Hurt you?”

“No.” Thank God, thank God. “I was lucky,” Patti said. “He was a really nice guy. Not that he’ll ever want to see
me
again.”

Sick with relief, Elizabeth covered her mouth to keep from lecturing Patti.

“I vaguely remember another car following us down the driveway,” Patti went on. “I guess they took him back home.” Her eyes narrowed. “I think it was those girls from Atlanta. I remember hearing them laugh at me when he helped me out of the car.”

Elizabeth didn’t know whether to wring Patti’s neck or kiss her for being okay.

“Why did I
do
that?” Patti demanded. “Why
do
I do that?”

Please, God, Elizabeth prayed, tell me what to say. She gripped her coffee mug. “Only you can answer that question, honey,” her voice said. “The real question is, what do you plan to do next?” Elizabeth struggled to keep from trying to control the situation. Or enabling. Or criticizing. “I’m really proud of you for telling me.”

The good Lord knew, Elizabeth couldn’t throw stones. She’d made her own stupid mistakes with P.J.

“There’s help, sweetie,” she offered. “All kinds of it. Support groups of people who’ve been where you are and gotten past it. Don’t let the labels throw you. Just focus on the help.”

Patti didn’t argue, which Elizabeth took as a good sign. “Or if that doesn’t work for you,” Elizabeth went on, “maybe you could try talking to a specialist. We could find a good one who works with people your age.” Patti nodded. “The only thing that won’t
work is doing nothing. It’s your choice, honey, how to handle this.”

Patti stared out over the lake. “I wish I could start over, knowing what I know now about you and Daddy. I would have done things differently.”

Elizabeth got up to pour herself another coffee. “Not possible,” she said. “But what you do next, that
is
possible. It can be as good or as bad as you make it.” She sat beside her daughter. “We’re lucky, you know. We still
have
choices, both of us. A lot of people don’t.”

Patti shot her a nobody-wants-to-hear-it-could-be-worse look.

Elizabeth focused on the lake—and keeping her mouth shut.

Then an idea bloomed, whole and perfect, in her mind. “How would you like to take a little trip? To your grandmother’s.”

“Gamma’s?”

“No, your other grandmother’s,” Elizabeth said. “I think it might be helpful to you.”

Patti peered at the lake as she considered. “Okay,” she said, “but only if I get to do the driving.”

Elizabeth waved a hand in dismissal. “We’ll fly. First class. And rent a convertible when we get there. How about that?”

Patti grinned. “Only if I get to drive the convertible.”

“Only if you’re sober,” Elizabeth said, half serious.

“Trust me,” Patti said. “It’ll be a long time before I can face tequila again.”

Good.

Energized, Elizabeth got up. “Come on, honey, let’s pack. I’ll call Delta.”

“This’ll be fun.” Patti stopped halfway to her room. “Mama, do you realize, this will be our very first trip together, just the two of us?”

Could that be? “You’re right,” Elizabeth said.

Maybe God had told her what to do, after all.

Twenty-four hours later, Elizabeth watched the sights of Clearwater, Florida, go by as Patti followed the rented convertible’s GPS toward the retirement center where Elizabeth’s mother lived.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen her?” Patti asked.

Elizabeth was ashamed to answer. “Not since we moved her into the condo. Ten, no, twelve years ago.”

“How was she, then?”

“She was pretty crabby when we moved her into the condo,” Elizabeth said. And drunk. But she’d let Patti find that out for herself. “Like I said, moving is hard for old people. She would have stayed in that filthy, roach-infested apartment of hers forever, if we’d let her.”

“Isn’t she glad she moved, now that she’s settled?”

“I can’t remember my mother ever being glad about anything, except when I told her I’d married your daddy. But then she turned right around and complained because we eloped.” As if her parents could have afforded a wedding, in the first place. Much less stayed sober long enough to keep from humiliating everybody involved. “She’s always fussing at me when I call her.”

“Why? You’d think she’d be glad to hear from you.”

Elizabeth focused on the glimpses of the Gulf between houses and condo towers. “She’s mad because I abandoned her.”

“But you didn’t,” Patti argued. “You said on the plane, you and Daddy support her.”

Elizabeth had filled Patti in on the bare facts of her family, but left out the sordid details. “We do support her financially, but that’s not the same thing.” Elizabeth adjusted her sunglasses. “I couldn’t handle the chaos, so I cut her off emotionally.” As coldly and completely as Howe had cut Elizabeth off because of his guilt.

“Oh.”

“Turn right in fifty meters,” the GPS said, “on Sunshine Lane.”

“What should I call her?” Patti asked.

Elizabeth brushed a windblown curl out of her eye. “I don’t know. What does Charles call her?”

“He didn’t say.”

“You could ask her what she wants you to call her, I guess,” Elizabeth suggested.

Patti pulled up to the ten-story condo. “Here we are. This is nice.” She parked in a visitor’s space, then reached to the floorboard behind Elizabeth. Patti had insisted on bringing red roses, because Elizabeth had said they were her mother’s favorite.

“Remember, she can be pretty negative,” Elizabeth warned for the third time. “Don’t take it personally. She’s like the French: they can’t stand anybody, including each other.”

“You already told me,” Patti said. “Mama, it’s going to be okay.”

Elizabeth wondered if this was a good idea, after all. “I just don’t want you to have unrealistic expectations.”

“I don’t.” Patti held the door for her, scanning the lobby. “
Very
nice.”

“We picked it because they have independent, assisted, and skilled care in the same complex. Like I said, moving can be really traumatic for the elderly, especially when their health is failing.”