What a Mother Knows (2 page)

Cathy exchanged looks with Julie.

Michelle noticed. “I know it's on the other side of the world. But Drew shot a miniseries there and one of the crew knows the host family, so it's safe. What was she going to do, spend her senior year at my bedside?”

Cathy smiled. “You must be excited to see her.”

“You have no idea—ten months of nothing but messages. Feels like forever.” Michelle frowned at Lexi as she returned.

“The hospital doesn't allow Skype or cell phones because of the cameras. It's a privacy issue,” Lexi explained. “Patients do have access to unit phones.”

“Yes, but the time change is murder,” Michelle said. “I always end up leaving voice mails. By the time Nikki calls back, I don't have the phone anymore. The messages the nurses passed along were short and sweet, but she seems happy.”

“Probably because you're better,” Cathy said.

“She did sound sad after the accident,” Michelle said. “Visiting hours were so limited and I was pretty doped up. She sent me one of those voice-recorded greeting cards. I play it so often I worry the computer chip will break.” Michelle felt the pinpricks of tears. She sipped her water and blinked them away, smiling. “Now she thinks postcards of the Sydney Opera House are enough.”

“Teenagers,” Julie replied.

Cathy nodded and looked over at Cody and Tyler, who had given up on borrowing the car and were licking frosting from their fingers. Lexi noticed and took them napkins. “It's nice to see the boys together.”

Michelle agreed. “I'm sorry they don't see each other more. My mother got Tyler into that boarding school before I was well enough to protest.”

“Be grateful, some of those East Coast schools have a direct pipeline to the Ivy League,” Cathy said. “Our high school has been ruined by budget cuts. And it's impossible to get into UCLA anymore.”

“Maybe Julie can help,” Michelle offered. “She's in the English department.”

Julie downed her champagne and poured more.

“Cody is more of a math and science kid,” Cathy said, watching her son hang on Lexi's every word. “Maybe he'll be a doctor.”

“Maybe,” Michelle said, smiling. “But you might want to tell him that Lexi is already dating a doctor.”

The doorbell rang. The boys went to the door and staggered back with an orchid plant so large that it seemed to erupt with white blossoms. The men came around to clear room on the table, where it dwarfed the spring bouquet. Cathy handed Michelle the gift card. “‘With love, Victor,'” she read.

“Probably left over from a commercial shoot,” Drew said, unimpressed.

Lexi plucked a fallen petal from the soil. “No, Michelle's boss sent orchids to the hospital every month. You would have noticed if she didn't give so many away to other patients.”

“That's our Michelle. We're so glad to have you back,” Kenny said, echoing Cathy's words. He leaned in for a light hug.

“Thanks, Coach. Did you find a player to replace Tyler?”

“We did. But as a matter of fact, our shortstop has the flu, so if you could spare your son on Tuesday, I'd like to have him play.”

“I'm sure he'd love that, thanks.”

Drew put his arm around Kenny's shoulder. “Kenny's been a real godsend. Handled all the legal work after your accident.”

“All I did then was put the estate in order,” Kenny said, wincing at the morbid implication. “The insurance company has their own attorney.”

“Thank you,” Michelle said.

“You're welcome. I was coasting on a fat contingency fee that fall. But now…” He looked at Drew, who raised his hand like a stop sign.

The doorbell rang again. “I'll get it,” Julie said. “If it's more flowers, I'll be happy to take them off your hands.” She came back leading a trim black man in a tailored suit. “Not flowers, but the same offer goes.”

“Dr. Palmer,” Lexi said. “When I invited you, I didn't think you would actually come.”

“I missed the hospital gathering, so I wanted to drop this by.” Dr. Palmer set a gift bag of French Roast coffee on the table and smiled at Michelle.

“How thoughtful,” Michelle said, pushing herself up to stand before anyone could notice the blood rushing to her cheeks. “Drew, you remember Dr. Palmer, don't you? The one Lexi calls Dr. Frankenstein?”

“Of course,” Drew said, shaking hands with the younger man.

“Dr. Palmer is my orthopedic therapist,” Michelle explained to the others. “He tortured me twice a week, rain or shine.”

“Nice work,” Cathy said. “She seems good as new—except for the arm.”

Dr. Palmer smoothed his silk tie. “That's a bit tricky. This may be the best we can do.”

“I'm sorry,” Cathy said. “I didn't mean to…”

“No, it's all right,” he interrupted. “Believe me, I wish I could do more. Mrs. Mason, I have to head over the hill before the traffic gets ugly. I just wanted to say how much I've enjoyed working with you.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze and waved good-bye to the others. Lexi walked him out.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Michelle called, watching him go.

“You okay?” Julie asked.

“Just feels strange. He was around more than my husband.”

Drew overheard. “Only because I was busy working to pay him,” he said a little too sharply. The others exchanged looks.

“I know, honey,” Michelle said. “I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just tired. And I missed you.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it.

“Of course you did.” Cathy checked her watch. “This is an awful lot of fuss all of a sudden. Why don't I take Tyler home with us tonight? I put a casserole in the fridge for you and Drew.”

“Is that okay?” Tyler asked.

Michelle blushed at the idea of being alone with her husband. Tyler took that as a yes and kissed her cheek good-bye.

After the others left, Lexi asked to see the handicapped shower bar Drew had installed. As they disappeared down the hallway, it grew so quiet that Michelle could hear the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. She was used to the white noise of hospital activity, but now even Bella had stopped barking.

Michelle swiped chocolate frosting off the last clump of cake and licked it from her finger. She felt too frail to clean the mess of crumpled napkins and half-filled cups. She had been warned that fatigue could last for years, but that didn't explain her unease. Certainly, her friends would watch her closely to make sure she was okay. But they seemed wary as well.

As she looked around the room, something else felt off. The very air smelled different, perhaps from dust. Michelle's senses had come alive during her recovery, as if compensating for the loss of sensation in her right arm. She loved the orchids, partly because they had no scent. The lavender candle from Julie was sealed well enough, but the whiff of lemon crumbs on Cathy's platter made her nose twitch.

Drew and Lexi's footsteps echoed down the hallway. “Time to say good-bye, my friend,” Lexi called, meeting her in the foyer. She unzipped her case and pulled out the clipboard full of discharge papers. Michelle hesitated, feigning interest in the X she had made on the signature line—all she could manage left-handed. Despite months of anticipation, saying good-bye to Lexi was the moment she had dreaded most.

Lexi handed the clipboard to Drew. He flipped through the documents until he came to an outpatient referral form. “I thought she was done with Dr. Palmer.”

“Yes, as far as the hospital is concerned,” Lexi said. “But the physiatrist who coordinated her treatment always recommends outpatient care. Patients tend to slack off on home exercises. If she sees Dr. Palmer at his clinic, he'll bill your insurance directly. If she decides not to, he can sign the physician's release to complete the file. Oops, I forgot to include that. I'll drop it by in case you need it.”

Drew saw the prescriptions clipped underneath. “More antidepressants?”

“No, that was short-term, typical for recovery patients. These are antianxiety meds, in case of adjustment issues. Some patients need them, some don't.”

“Good idea,” Drew said.

“Oh, please,” Michelle said to Lexi. “The only adjustment I'll have is to you not being here.” When she heard the words aloud, she burst into tears. Over the past year, friends and family had come and gone, but Lexi was there every day. She was the one Michelle could trust with each step on the treadmill, the one who refused to let her settle for less.

Lexi embraced Michelle. “I'm going to miss you, too. Everybody will—and now the nurses will have to read the fairy tales.” They laughed together, triumphant and miserable. After a moment, Drew reached for Michelle, as if to reclaim her.

Lexi handed a tissue to Michelle. “You'll be fine, see? This big strong husband of yours will take good care of you.” She reached in her case and pulled out the plastic bag of Michelle's personal items. The bag slipped, spilling treasures to the floor. Lexi apologized and crouched to retrieve the silver brush and a wooden nesting doll, then fretted over broken glass in the picture frame. She stood up to show Michelle that the family was still visible, posing at the beach on a sunny day. In the photo, Michelle had long brown hair, Drew had all of his, Tyler had a baby face, and Nikki was making bunny ears behind her little brother's head.

“Don't worry, it's a copy,” Michelle said, pointing at the larger version hanging behind them on the wall.

Lexi admired the portrait. “Must feel good to be home.”

Michelle wiped her tears and smiled. “Like a fairy tale.”

After a quiet dinner, Drew put his arm around Michelle and walked her down the bedroom hall. The first door on the left was closed, but since Nikki was out of town, that was to be expected. Drew reached to pull Tyler's door shut just as Michelle spied the sleeping bag on the bare floor. The empty room shouldn't have been a surprise since Tyler lived away at school, but Michelle had never stopped picturing him here.

Drew misunderstood her confusion. “He's not sick of you, honey, he's just being a teenager. He misses Cody. And this does give us a chance to catch up.”

“Catch up?” Michelle asked.

“It's been a long time. A lot has happened.”

“I may be behind on current events, Drew, but we haven't been alone in over a year. You really just want to ‘catch up?'” Now it was Drew's turn to blush. Michelle smiled to herself, pleased at how easy it was to flirt again.

Drew's warm hand squeezed hers as they reached the open doorway of their bedroom. When he turned on the light, Michelle was comforted to see her antique dresser and vanity table, and especially their king-sized sleigh bed. She went right to her suitcase, already unzipped, on the chenille bedspread.

Drew stood by the footboard for a moment and cocked his head to listen. He went around the bed and opened the window. Then he pointed outside where the crickets sang. “Hear that? They're early this year. Usually don't hear them until the end of April.”

Michelle smiled. Drew was an audio engineer, famous for dubbing cricket songs into the night scenes of every movie he worked on. He was expert at enhancing evenings, setting the stage for romance. Michelle tried to hear the opera he described, the chorus of males rubbing their wings together to attract females. Her hearing was more acute than it had been before the accident, but she still couldn't distinguish between the rhythmic chirps. She felt oddly jealous. She wanted Drew to forget about the crickets, to rub his wings together and rekindle their romance.

“Shall I get that fancy candle?” he asked, as if reading her thoughts.

Michelle nodded, and found herself hugging her bad arm. She had anticipated her first night with Drew for weeks now. It was almost comical, but after wearing nothing but a flimsy gown in front of doctors and nurses for months, tonight she felt shy about stripping down for her own husband. He hadn't seen her naked since before her horrible accident. What if he thought she looked like a freak?

“Do you mind if I take a few minutes?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said with a trace of relief in his voice. “I'll walk Bella and check the score of the Lakers game.”

Michelle admired his long legs as he left. “You'll come to bed after?”

Drew nodded, then whistled for the dog.

The moment Michelle heard the front door close and the house go quiet, she tiptoed into the master bath and locked the door. She flipped on the light switch and took a good, honest look at herself in the mirror. She tried not to cry. No wonder Julie had been so overwhelmed by her appearance. Her hair was a shock of gray, chopped short to make it easy to brush. Her skin, deprived of eighteen months of sunshine, was ghostly pale. She took a deep breath, slipped out of her top and kicked off the elastic-waist pants.

There was no denying that she had lost her figure. When Michelle used to complain about being a few pounds overweight, Drew insisted her shape was sexy. This, of course, worked to her advantage in male-dominated Hollywood. Now, with sharp cheekbones and jutting hips, she looked like the underfed actresses who surrounded him on the set every day—before they went to hair and makeup. Audrey Hepburn she was not. She tore open the Velcro seam of her compression sleeve and dropped it on the tile floor. If only she could hide the ribbon of scars on her chest and the bracelet of burn marks down her right arm, maybe her husband would forget how much time had passed. Michelle wasn't sure how much time had passed since they'd made love before the accident, either. This was a chance to start fresh.

Soon, cheers erupted from the TV and echoed down the hall. Michelle could make out Jack Nicholson's name as she struggled to wash her face and brush her teeth. She was determined to get the toothpaste out and the cap on and off without asking for help. But all she could think about was the Staples Center packed with screaming fans and all the beautiful women with long shiny hair. She used to be one of them.

Michelle opened the drawer where she kept her nightgowns, but it was empty. So was the lingerie drawer above it. She opened the dark closet, but it looked empty, too. She struggled to close it and fell off balance, then spotted her garment bag in the shadow at the far end. She nearly cried with relief. When she managed to open it, she found her power suits, her wrap dresses, and her precious Louboutin shoes. Best of all, she found the satin negligee that she used to wear for special occasions. Tonight would certainly qualify.

The spaghetti straps slipped on easily and the fabric felt like heaven against her hard, abraded skin. Sure, the fit was baggy, but it was short enough to be sexy and the ivory color was ideal. This was a far cry from the sheer black teddy that Drew had once bought her for Valentine's Day. Still, it suited her mood. She had no idea how much her husband had missed her or when he'd gotten used to her being gone. She only wanted to feel safe in his arms. To forget the aching chasm of time that had come between them.

Michelle turned off the light, climbed under the covers, and waited. She practiced a seductive pose. After a few minutes, she sat up, arranged her treasures on the bedside table, and brushed her hair. Then she reached over and picked up the Russian Matreshka doll painted like a ballerina that her mother had given to Nikki. It didn't belong in here, but feeling the grooves from Nikki teething on the outer doll made Michelle smile. She opened the drawer where Drew had put her mail and flipped past the postcards to find the voice-recorded get well card. When she heard Drew shouting at the TV, she put it back. By morning, she wouldn't need to listen to the canned sound of her daughter's voice. Nikki would be home.

Michelle got out of bed and called down the hall. “Drew?” When she heard his footsteps approach, her heart skipped a beat. She climbed back into bed, pinched each cheek, and fluffed out her hair.

Drew towered over the bed as he set the candle on the table. His phone rang, but he glanced at the number and turned the ringer off. Michelle watched him undress to his boxers and realized that he, too, had lost weight. Long ropey muscles had replaced the soft flesh from Sunday dinners. After he disappeared into the bathroom, she heard the buzz of his electric razor and smiled; he was making his chin smooth for her.

“Did you have enough to eat?” she asked.

“Plenty,” he said from the doorway. “You?”

Michelle nodded. She was only hungry for her husband now, to be hugged and kissed and held in his arms. She looked at the candle.

“Let me light that for you.” He pulled a lighter from the Marlboro pack in the pocket of his denim shirt.

Michelle sat up. “Does Tyler know you smoke? He asked me to stop the car once to tell a man at a bus stop that it was bad for his health.”

“He pretends not to know, I think. See no evil. Truth is, I like to sneak a smoke when a director is up my ass. Gives me a minute to think.” Drew lit the candle, then sat down on the bed. “I never claimed to be as honest as you, Michelle.”

She watched the flame flicker. “You used to make fun of my candles, too. You said if I had to set the scene to feel romantic, then I didn't really want it.”

“I was wrong. You should have what you want.” He hesitated, then turned to face her. “I mean it, honey. You don't deserve this. Any of this.” His voice was husky as his arms wrapped gently around her.

She clung to him until his arms tightened, then she pressed her lips against his, ignoring the sour taste of nicotine beneath his toothpaste. They exchanged a few shy kisses before she pulled away. “Do you remember this nightgown?” When he didn't answer, she giggled. “It never stayed on long.” He laughed. She reached for him, but lost her balance and rolled back, triggering a spasm in her bad arm.

Drew hesitated, so she pretended it was nothing and braved the rub of tender scar tissue as he pulled her back up. He held her and kissed her on the cheek, but she wanted more. She scooched back and bent her knees for balance to rest on her right side. He tilted his head to gaze at her as he lay on his side, then touched his fingertips to her temples. Slowly, they slid down her neck to her collarbone, then around the strap of her nightgown to her waist.

“Don't stop,” Michelle whispered.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't. The doctor said it was okay.” Drew slid his hands between her legs, then stopped abruptly. “Please, honey, it's just me.” Her voice had dropped to a whimper.

“No, it's just—it's been a long time.”

She inched closer. Her body was willing, but she could tell by his hesitation that it wasn't the body he remembered. “Do you still love me?”

“For better or worse.”

“Can't get much worse,” Michelle teased, but Drew didn't laugh. Michelle ached for her husband. She laid her palm on his cheek and wobbled. He put his right arm on her side to steady her. She followed his smooth pelt with her fingers, down to where his ribs gave way to his belly, but she couldn't reach any farther. She nudged him with her knee. Nothing. As if Drew was the one who'd been maimed in the accident. “Is your back hurting? What did you call it, the tall man's curse?”

“That's not it. I'm sorry.”

“It's just me. Remember the bride who did you on the golf course in Maui? And behind the Hemingway House in Key West? And on top of the Empire State Building?”

He quieted her with a kiss, rolled her back, and kissed her again with lips as tender as her memories. Then his eyes drifted shut, and all at once he was on her, kissing so hard her lips were bruising. She blinked up at him, but his eyes were still closed.

Drew rubbed his hand down her side and cupped her bottom. He kissed her neck until her head fell back. There were cobwebs on the ceiling. She closed her eyes. Pressure grew against her thighs. His hand slipped between her legs until she could feel his fingertips. She startled, afraid for a moment, but then he kissed her again and shoved himself into her. He was panting now, pushing into her, raw and burning, until it hurt. She held on as the backboard hit the wall,
then
she was flipping over and upside down and inside out, tumbling inside the SUV, dark with the music still pounding. Steel was groaning and lights were flashing in the darkness and she heard a scream.
Then it was over, and all was still.

Michelle felt the pressure lift around her, like a seat belt unbuckling, an airbag deflating. She caught her breath and let it go. What she wanted was to feel alive, connected, but all she felt was alone. Drew pulled the covers over her and let his hand linger on her hip. Then he rolled over.

She climbed out of bed slowly and went to the bathroom to clean up. The moon lit the room through the window so there was no need to turn on the light. In the silence, she heard the crickets sing. She wondered whether Drew could hear them from the bedroom, whether he recognized their call. When she got back to bed, he was snoring. She blew out the candle.