Where There's Smoke (4 page)

Someone vacuumed the air out of the room. His thoughts whirled from how hurt and stunned Lauren would be—at least he thought she'd be as shocked as he was, because she hadn't mentioned any trouble between her parents—to what this meant to their two families.

"Oh, crud."

Valerie and Mitch divorcing. He'd known them all his life, couldn't imagine them apart, though now that he thought about it, they'd never been a great couple. Not that his folks were great but at least they joked around, exchanged warm looks, affectionate touches. The Stokes had never been demonstrative with each other or with Lauren. So Lauren had turned to his mother for her coddling.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Lauren,” Seth murmured.

"You see why I'm worried."

"Yeah, I-I'll call her,” Seth said, already working out what to say. He was on duty till morning, or he'd go to over. He'd call, let her know he knew, that she could talk to him if she needed to.

He wondered, though, why she hadn't called.

He turned his attention to his father. “So she's free now. What does that mean?"

Oscar looked blank. “I don't know what you're talking about."

"Valerie. She and Mitch split. What does that mean to you?"

Oscar glanced around. Seth had made him nervous and he felt evil for being glad about it. “Nothing's going to change, Seth, if that's what you're worried about."

Seth swallowed and looked away. “It's something I've been worried about for ten years."

"I love your mother."

Seth wished he believed that. “And Valerie?” Damn, was he a glutton for punishment pushing this?

Oscar's expression hardened. “It's none of your business."

"Are you the reason they split?” The reason Lauren was going through hell right now?

Oscar met his eyes dead on. “No. And I don't want to discuss this with you, not again.” He spun around and strode out.

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Lauren stared at her mother, her insides twisting, making it hard to breathe. She reached for the glass of water on the end table only to find it empty.

"That's not even funny."

She'd been surprised enough by her mother dropping by on the shopping day she lived for all year long. Lauren had let her in before falling back on the couch, the short walk on crutches exhausting. The springs had barely finished bouncing when Valerie announced she was leaving Mitch, her tone and expression cool, practiced, damn near smug. When had her mother grown so cold?

"It's not meant to be funny,” Valerie said, a tad impatiently.

Of course it wasn't. Lauren knew that. God knew her mother hadn't had a sense of humor in at least a decade, and had been a drain on her father's as well. But really, what was the proper response to the news that one's parents were divorcing?

Speaking of protocol. “Where is Dad, anyway? Isn't this something you're supposed to do together? Isn't that like ... in the parent handbook? Or has it gotten so bad you can't bear to be in the same room together?"

"I know you're upset.” Valerie folded her hands between her knees. She couldn't even reach a hand out to comfort her daughter.

"Don't try to placate me.” Bitterness swelling, Lauren gathered the crutches then realized it would make for an awkward dramatic exit. Besides, this was her house. Where would she go? Instead she shifted her weight, sitting as tall as she could. “You hit me with this like a bolt from the blue—I think I'm entitled to a little anger here."

Valerie's face was a mask. “Certainly."

"Are you up for questions, or is this a guerilla tactic? Tell me and run?"

"I'll answer what I can."

"Why now?"

"It's been building for awhile. Surely you've noticed we don't spend much time together, even when he has time off. When he is off, when we are together, we're miserable."

And they had been for a long time. Lauren always assumed it was her fault. Valerie never approved of anything she did, and Mitch always stood up for her, against his own wife. “I always thought it would be better once I got out of the house, that you guys would have more time together. You'd only have to worry about him, not me anymore."

Something like pain flickered across Valerie's face. “You thought I wanted you to leave so I could have him to myself."

Well, yes, but Lauren wouldn't say it. She'd always been Daddy's girl, and hadn't been too old when she realized her mother resented her for it. She'd never quite figured out if Valerie was jealous of the time Mitch took to be with Lauren, or of Lauren's adoration and emulation of Mitch. She and Lauren had certainly never had a connection. Looking back, she wondered if her lack of femininity came from being too close to her father, or rebelling against her mother.

"I thought you stressed too much worrying about both of us. I thought if I moved out and you could just focus on him, you'd be happier."

She tried to remember the last time her mother had been happy. The fact she couldn't remember panicked her. How had it come to this? If she'd made sure her mother was happy, would her parents be divorcing? God. Lauren almost doubled over in grief. She stopped herself by digging her fingers into her scalp and pushing her hair back to look at her mom.

"And Dad? Is he okay?"

Valerie glanced at her watch and Lauren wondered where she wanted to be so damned bad. Anywhere but here? Well, that made two of them. Why schedule a talk, a talk of this magnitude, if one had a pressing engagement?

"Is there someone else?” She hated the sound of her voice, all tremulous and childlike. She snapped her mouth shut, trying not to cry.

Valerie wouldn't look at her and Lauren's stomach squeezed. The phone rang and both women jumped. Lauren grasped it. Out there somewhere was a world that hadn't been turned upside down and she wanted desperately to go there.

"Lauren."

Seth. She closed her eyes. Seth, who could bring everything back to normal.

"Lauren, are you there?” His voice was different, almost soft. Concerned.

"I'm here. Hi."

"Look, Dad just came by with some news."

"What kind of news?” Please let it be good.

"I was hoping you'd tell me. I was hoping you're all right."

She frowned. “Look, Seth, thanks for calling, but Mom's here."

"Ah. She's there."

More confusion, then realization. Seth knew her parents were splitting before she did. Did he also know why?

"You know."

"Yeah, I, ah, Dad made it sound like they told you hours ago. I wondered why you hadn't called. Are you okay?"

"Not so much, no. Try minutes, not hours."

"I'm sorry, Lauren."

"I better go.” But she didn't want to. She wanted to hold onto the phone, take his comfort. Instead, she had to get answers.

"Yeah, I guess. Call me if you need me."

"Yeah, okay, bye."

Her mother's expression froze. “Seth."

Lauren wondered, not for the first time, at Valerie's disapproval of Seth. “He just heard."

"Oscar wasted no time, I see."

Lauren shifted on the couch, trying to get comfortable. “He just wanted to see if I was okay."

"How serious is this between you two?"

Could her mother see the change she so recently realized herself? God help her if she was that transparent. If her mother who rarely saw her knew, Seth no doubt did as well. So she fought back. “So very off topic, which I can understand given the question before the court. Was there—is there someone else?"

Valerie took a deep breath and Lauren thought she'd decline to answer.

"I have a right to know,” Lauren said.

"You don't, actually, but I'll tell you anyway. Your father was the someone else."

Lauren had stiffened, ready to defend her father if Valerie accused him of having an affair—wrong, she knew, but instinctive. She didn't relax at the conclusion of the sentence. Maybe it was her pain medication, but so much didn't make sense.

"Dad was the other man?” She must have misheard. Stupid pain medicine that didn't do much for a damn broken heart.

"I was in love with someone else when I met your father.” Her mother's voice, her expression, mellowed, and she looked years younger as she went back in time. “So in love, but there was no future for us. I was afraid to be alone, that I'd never find anyone to love if I didn't marry someone I knew, so I turned to your father."

Romance, hell. The woman didn't know the meaning of the word, not if she could walk away from a thirty year marriage and seem happy about it. Lauren wanted to shout at her mother to grow up. “And thirty years later this is why you're breaking up? Excuse me if I don't see the connection."

There went the defenses, right back up. Her mother drew away, and her characteristic frown returned. Damn it, Lauren could have learned so much more by not being so accusatory. Too late. She wondered if she'd ever again be able to talk to her mother without resentment. “You asked if there was someone else. There was always someone else."

Lauren squeezed her forehead. “In your mind, you mean. The one who left you."

"Yes."

"So you're leaving Dad out of guilt?"

"No! One has nothing to do with the other."

"I'm confused."

"You asked a question, I answered it."

"A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed."

Valerie stood up then, gathering her purse. Her patience, never her strong point around Lauren, finally was at an end. “You were always difficult. Why do you always have to be difficult?"

"What did you expect me to do? Say, ‘Oh, great, Mom, so glad you and Dad are throwing thirty years of marriage down the drain, have a nice life?'” She wished she could stand up, go nose to nose with her mother, but the effort would take too much.

"I'd like, for once, for you to see my side. Just for your information, your hero of a father was supposed to be here today, to tell you with me. Looks like he chickened out."

And Valerie stormed out, her heels clomping across the wood floor, the glass in the door rattling when she slammed it. Lauren dropped her head to the couch as her mother's last words sunk in. Valerie was right, Lauren did always take Mitch's side, but only because Valerie never seemed to.

It was sad, though, wasn't it—that the only way her mother could get the last word was to fire a shot and then bolt?

Lauren was in no better shape when Seth dropped by Saturday morning. The only thing that saved him from the growling temper that chased his sister Crystal away earlier was his offering of Krispy Kremes. All glazed. Her favorite. She fell on them like a shark in a feeding frenzy, although she'd had much more than her share of sweets since her mother broke the news and her father sadly confirmed it over the phone.

"A ‘hello, Seth’ would be nice,” he chided, moving toward the coffeepot.

She hadn't bothered making coffee yet. She mumbled something rude around a mouth full of doughnut.

He lifted an eyebrow. “I hope that was ‘Thank you, Seth,’ and not what it sounded like."

She gave him a dirty look but refrained from the accompanying gesture.

"I see you're off the crutches. Do you think that's a good idea?"

She shrugged.

"Have you attempted the stairs yet?"

She shook her head.

"My, you're talkative. Maybe it's because you haven't had any caffeine."

She took a breath between doughnuts, horrified to see she'd devoured four. “Too much caffeine. No sleep."

"Ah, she speaks. Sentence fragments, but a step in the right direction.” He moved toward her, cupped her chin in his palm and tilted her face up. She couldn't look away if she wanted to, and boy, she wanted to. She was suddenly aware of his rough hands on her gross-feeling-too-much-junk-food-affected skin, aware that her unwashed, unbrushed hair was stuffed into a makeshift bun, that her face had been makeup free for three days and celebrated by having a little pimple party. She wouldn't care that most of the women he dealt with kept themselves impeccably groomed.

She shouldn't care, but she did.

"Poor Lauren."

Okay, that tore it. She jerked away, overbalancing and nearly tipping over. He caught her arms and steadied her against him. The last time she saw him, he'd been Well Groomed Man, ready to take on the job. Today he was Just Rolled Out of Bed and Went for a Run Man. Infinitely sexier and much more touchable.

And so much trouble. She had enough change going on in her life without taking that road.

"I have an idea,” he said. “Get showered and dressed and I'll take you to the zoo."

Her favorite place in town. He was trying to be nice but she just couldn't accept it in the spirit it was given. She didn't want pity from a man whose world hadn't been turned upside down. “Yeah, I want to gimp around the zoo. No thanks. I have a great idea. Let's get wasted and watch some football."

"You hate football."

She gestured to her knee. “You have no idea."

"I tell you what. You go shower and change and I'll get you out of the house today. It'll do you good."

She hobbled toward the stairs, eyeing them warily.

"You need help?” he asked.

"I'll manage."

"Call me when you're done and I'll rewrap your knee for you."

"I've been doing it myself,” she said, a touch defensively.

He looked down at the lump under her sweatpants. “Yeah, I can see that. Call me when you're done, all right?"

He waited impatiently in the uncharacteristically messy living room, listening for the sound of the shower. She took forever, but it probably wasn't easy getting undressed with a bum knee. To occupy himself he gathered up the trash from the coffee table and floor around the couch. Where had she even gotten two boxes of Ding Dongs to eat? And the carton of ice cream? And two, no, three bags of popcorn? Had she had any real food since Thanksgiving?

Didn't her parents give a damn she was hurt and grieving? Yeah, Mitch had been working, but did he even bother to check on her? Seth swiped everything into the trash, folded the afghan over the back of the couch and straightened out the magazines on the coffee table, all the while with one ear tuned to the bathroom. She'd call if she needed help, wouldn't she?