Chapter 16

Lisa didn’t know why Mike wanted to accompany her to her therapist’s office, but she wasn’t happy about it. Dr. Julie Rosen had become her safety net. In her office, Lisa could complain, cry, or explode at the fates without having to worry about anyone overhearing—child or husband. In fact, she could be a child herself for a little while. She treasured the sessions, which were only twice a month now, and didn’t want to waste a moment. Tonight would be a total waste.

She moved down the corridor at a steady clip, leading the way in the building of psychological specialists. Mike knew how she felt about sharing, but he hadn’t backed off about going with her tonight. She’d questioned him.

“After two years, why now? The doc’s not going to reveal secrets of the deep.” She’d lowered her pitch and imitated a horror film voice-over. “In fact, there’s nothing I talk about that you don’t know—if you’ve been paying attention.” But she’d felt her skin heat up and turned away quickly to hide the lie. She talked about plenty of stuff Mike couldn’t guess at including her anger at her parents’ deaths. And hated herself for it.

“I’d like five minutes for the three of us together,” Mike had replied. “Is that so difficult? Besides, I simply want to meet the great Dr. Julie.”

“Her diplomas are hanging on the wall. You can see them in the waiting room. This is my last session, Mike, and I want every minute of it.”

“My timing sucks, I agree. But that’s too damn bad. It’s important that I go.”

He’d respected her privacy until now, and she allowed his intensity to sway her. So here they were, entering Dr. Julie’s territory. The woman opened her inside office door and greeted them with a smile.

“I’m happy to meet you, Mr. Brennan.” She glanced at Lisa. “Did you need a ride tonight?”

“No. Mike insisted on coming, and I reluctantly agreed. He’s never asked before, so something must be on his mind.”

“Oh?” Her attention turned fully on Mike. 

“There’s a lot on my mind, but nothing more important than Lisa. She says she’s feeling lost, so I figured we need some kind of road map before we both disappear. She respects you, so I thought I’d tag along.”

“Then let’s go inside and get comfortable.”

Mike would take over if she let him. After they were seated around a plain coffee table, Lisa spoke up. “Mike wants me to stay home and not to have a job, and that’s how it started.”

“Time out,” said Mike, making the familiar T gesture with his hands. He leaned forward in his leather chair. “First of all, I want my wife to be happy, and I want her to feel secure. My goal is for her to think of us as a couple, but she doesn’t. She’s more loyal to her parents than she is to me. She thinks she’s carrying all the responsibility at home, and that I don’t understand what she’s going through…”

“He doesn’t. He thinks he does, but he doesn’t,” said Lisa.

He glanced at her but continued speaking to the grief counselor. “If I don’t understand, it’s because she doesn’t tell me,” he replied. “I’m used to taking charge. I’m the go-to guy on the team, and I should be the same at home. We should be past all the emotions by now. It’s been two and a half years. There should be more progress.”

“He thinks we’re on a timetable!” Lisa cried and swiveled toward him. “It doesn’t work that way. How many times have I told you that grieving is a process? Everyone’s timeline is different.”

“I get it,” he conceded, “but could you give me just a little hint? Are we in for five years of this? Ten years? When are you going to be happy again? When do I get the old Lisa back? When will you stand firm with Emily and go to a game out of town?”

He turned toward the counselor. “We have a play-off game this weekend. And if we win, there’s one more to go. The play-offs are no small thing. If we get to the big game…damn it. She doesn’t have to work.”

Lisa shifted toward the shrink. “He thinks the world revolves around him, about what he wants.” She stared at Mike. “The ‘old’ Lisa is gone. Gone forever. I’m not the same girl I was before the accident. No one remains the same after going through such a trauma. But I’m still my parents’ daughter. I was taught to work and earn and not be a spendthrift.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “I get that. I really do. The problem is…I barely recognize you anymore. You shut me out a majority of the time, and that’s what I don’t understand.”  He turned toward the therapist. “I’m crazy about the kids, but for some reason, I’m not truly hands-on unless Lisa needs me. She doesn’t trust me to really be the dad.”

The pain on his face! She’d rarely seen that dark misery in his eyes, the tight mouth and jaw. But…

“I trust you, Mike…but not as much as I trust myself. And sometimes, I don’t trust myself. So, it’s hard. You’re more like an older brother. You know, someone who plays with the kids but then turns them over to the parent—the truly responsible one.”

“My God,” Mike whispered, studying her as if she were lying in a petri dish under a microscope. “You think so little of me.”

His complexion had paled; his eyes went blank. Lisa’s stomach did its familiar dance. This time, she had no one to blame but herself. “I love you, Mike. But the children…well, raising them is on me. It’s my responsibility.”

Mike rose from his chair and pivoted toward the door.

“Mr. Brennan, this office is a place where issues are brought up and get aired out.”

“I suppose so,” he said, turning around. “It’s also a place where folks can get blindsided. Isn’t it ironic that fifty-three men hang on to every word I say, follow every drill, follow every play without a problem? And one little woman has a hard time trusting me. What does that say about this marriage?” He stepped toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Lisa asked, panic rising. “You can stay.”

“I’ll be outside. You can talk privately. The way you wanted.” He took another step.

“Hang on a moment,” said the therapist, writing something down on her pad.  She looked from Lisa to Mike. “I’m a grievance counselor, Mr. Brennan. I specialize in helping individuals or families going through the trauma of loss like your wife and her siblings are doing. I’m not a marriage counselor. The issues you’re bringing up require someone trained extensively in couples therapy and family counseling. So I’ve written down some referrals.”

 “Marriage counseling?” Lisa asked, confused. Their issues were about grief and childcare. The kids came first and took up all her time. But Dr. Julie was looking at her now. 

“Considering that tonight’s your last session with me, maybe it’s time to focus elsewhere in your life.”

Lisa couldn’t believe it. Dr. Julie was saying she needed a different counselor? If she couldn’t continue with Julie, she wouldn’t go anywhere. 

“Just for the record,” Mike said to the psychologist, “why is tonight Lisa's last session with you?”

“It’s up to Lisa to share or not.”

Lisa avoided his eyes, but telling him wouldn’t change the facts.

“Well, Lis?”

“I’m not making much progress anymore,” she said quietly. “I’ve hit a plateau, and I need a break.”

“A break? Then where the hell does that leave us?”

#

In the car on the way home, Mike pulled over into a store’s parking lot, shut the engine, and snapped on the reading light. 

“We need to talk while I’m not driving and before we get home.”

“All right. Good idea.” Her words were chipper but her mouth trembled.

“I wasn’t kidding in her office, Lisa. I’m not willing to live like this until we’re old. We need to be a couple, on the same page, at least most of the time.”  

“You’re not even home six months of the year, both mentally and physically. How could we be a real team?”

“Lots of players have families, and they do just fine.”

She glared at him. 

“I know, I know. They didn’t start out like we did. But I’d like Mrs. Brennan to really feel like Mrs. Brennan, not Ms. Delaney. Know what I mean?”

“I actually do, but knowing up here”—she pointed at her temple—“and believing it in here”—she pointed at her heart—“are two different things.”

He saw a glimmer of hope and smiled. “That’s my girl.”

“The children…” she began.

“I was thinking about them, too,” he said. “And I have a suggestion.” He took a deep breath, hoping she’d agree. So much was at stake. “Would it relieve any pressure on you and make us feel more together if everything were legal with the kids? If I petitioned the court for co-guardianship with you? I’ve got no problem with that. I love them, too.” 

Her eyes widened, her mouth opened, but words wouldn’t come out. She rubbed her throat.

Jesus, she couldn’t get air. “Breathe, baby. Just breathe. We won’t talk about it.”

Her chest heaved. He heard her suck air, saw her take two big breaths, and then she was fine. 

“Don’t shock me like that. And for God’s sake, don’t say a word about that idea to the kids.”

So he had her answer. “Why not?”

“It’ll only confuse them more. Give me a minute.” She closed her eyes and he waited. When she turned toward him, he didn’t know what to expect, but he didn’t expect to hear her say, “In the end, the legalities don’t matter. The kids really belong to Robbie and Grace. I never forget that I’m just their placeholder, trying to do the best I can. For them and for you, too, whether you believe it or not.”

He heard her pain. Her mouth quivered, and like a heat-seeking missile, he was there, kissing her softly, nuzzling her. Trying to provide whatever strength he could while he figured her out.    

“Placeholder? Now, you’re really scaring me. No matter how much you miss them, Lis, your folks are not coming back.” What the hell had been accomplished with the grief counselor if his wife was still living in the past or worse?

“I’m not crazy. I know they’re gone. But I have to keep them alive for the kids. Emily…sometimes, she calls me Mommy. Pictures of my parents are becoming distant photos to her. Maybe to the boys, too, and that’s not right. So, I try to do what my mom and dad would want me to do every time something comes up. And I tell the kids to make Mom and Dad proud.”

And she placed an unnecessary burden on everyone. It wasn’t fair to the kids or to herself.

“No wonder you’re so exhausted,” he said. “you’re trying to be a mind-reader, and that’s impossible. You simply need to be yourself, not an imitation Grace. The kids need two strong parents now, flesh-and-blood parents, who they can go to every day. For better or worse, they have you, and they have me.”

Maybe if this issue was resolved, other issues would fall into place. Maybe she wouldn’t feel lost anymore. Maybe the Delaney name would become less holy.

“It’s a nice theory,” Lisa said, “but parenting is twenty-four seven, and you’re not around enough. Even when you’re home, you’re watching videos or calories or working out. Look, Mike, the family court said the kids were my responsibility, my relatives believe it now, and it’s getting better. I’m not spoiling what’s working.”

“But it’s not working! You and I…we…aren’t working very well.” And this conversation wouldn’t change that. However, he still had an ace. Dr. Julie had referred them to marriage counseling, and he pulled out the sheet of referrals.

“What about this? I’m willing to go. To work on making a change.” 

“I told you, I’m taking a break.”

He let the paper drop from his fingers and watched it float to the floor of the car. Her response confirmed his greatest fear. He came in last on her agenda. Their marriage didn’t warrant her attention. It wasn’t important enough.

#

She’d make it up to him by caring for the house. She threw herself into decorating, an activity that would make Mike happy while it made her miserable. She knew nothing about styles—contemporary, traditional, Mediterranean, Colonial, French—a million decisions hinged on the basic choices. Window treatments, art work and wall hangings, floor coverings… She drowned in it all. She interviewed two decorators, each of whom showed up elegantly made-up and dressed in pencil-straight skirts and high heels while Lisa greeted them in a sweater and jeans, her hair clipped at her nape. 

The decorators’ reactions to the house were identical. Their eyes shone with the challenge of an almost blank canvas. An almost empty house. With an almost unlimited budget—according to Mike. Not according to Lisa. If the costs didn’t kill her, her own ignorance would. But…she reminded herself, she was trying to make Mike happy. Not in a million years had she ever thought she’d be researching home décor.  She dug into her new project, superficial as it was, knowing it would take a long time.  

At the end of the month, Lisa filled the new house with family for their first Christmas in Beacon Hill. The urge to see her aunts and uncles, to hug the men and kiss the women, had been overwhelming, and she’d issued the invites before she could change her mind. They’d get sleeping bags for all the kids and send them upstairs to Jen’s “dorm.” The bedrooms would go to the adults. 

“It will be the first time in three years we’ll all be together at the same time,” she’d said to Pat and Sally. “And this house is big enough—you’ll be comfortable.”

Whether she’d touched a chord of guilt or yearning, or mere curiosity, she didn’t know. But they all came. Mike’s family showed up on Christmas Day, too.

A full house. A new house. Still with the old furniture. But it did the job. 

As she scanned the long dining room table, she was at peace for the first time in a long while. The coffee and desserts were almost gone, the adults were catching up with one another, discussing the forthcoming play-offs and the Riders’ chance at the Super Bowl. The twins and Emily were happily engrossed with their cousins just as any children would be. She’d made the right decision to hostess this holiday. The kids were reveling in family and familiar songs from the old days. A round of “Row Your Boat,” where Emily’s name was substituted for Merrily.

“I remember! I remember.”  The child beamed and started another verse herself. Still petite, Emily looked younger than ten and a half going on eleven. At times, Lisa didn’t know if her sister was a true late bloomer or was old beyond her years.

When the round was finished, Emily disappeared with a warning that she’d be right back and don’t move. True to her word, she returned with violin in hand and garnered her relatives’ attention immediately. 

“I’ve never heard her play,” whispered Pat. “After all this time.”

“We’ve heard her play plenty,” said Brian, wrinkling his nose.

“Yeah. A lot!” chimed in Andy.

The visitors chuckled but looked at Lisa. 

“Two and a half years, all with Ms. Merri,” said Lisa. “We were lucky. She loves her teacher as well as the instrument. That’s all that matters.”

Lisa watched Emily take the violin out of its case, examine it, pluck a string, tighten it. Finally, the girl looked at her audience.

“I worked on this especially for Christmas. I heard Ms. Merri play it on the very first day. It’s a present for everybody, but especially for Mommy.” She tucked the violin under her chin, raised her bow, and shared her gift.

“Amazing Grace” had never sounded better to Lisa. Never sounded sweeter. Never sounded as beautifully performed as her little sister was performing it right now. Em had certainly improved, and Lisa hadn’t really noticed.

Neither had anyone else. Mike looked stunned, as though he’d just been sacked. Jen’s eyes could not open any wider. Even the boys were quiet. As for her aunts and uncles…not a dry eye anywhere. 

Emily bowed the last note, then held the instrument at her side. No one had moved. “Do you think Mommy liked it?” she whispered.

“Liked it?” roared Uncle Steve. “She loved it.”

The applause built to a crescendo, words of encouragement thrown in.  

Emily’s smile could light Carnegie Hall. “Wanna hear something fun?” she asked, jumping into “Rudolf,” then “Frosty” and had everyone singing.

“She’s not even using sheet music,” whispered Lisa.

Mike nodded. “Sensitive hands. Sensitive heart. Talent. I told you she needs private lessons. I’ll pay for them and no arguments.”

Lisa hesitated. Mike was spending too much already. She’d love to cut the furniture budget. 

“Thank you, Mike, but Emily’s lessons will be our treat. We insist.” Pat and Ted were beaming at their youngest niece. Lisa sighed with relief. One argument avoided.

“Are you finished yet, Emily?” Brian asked when his sister stopped playing.

Each boy was holding a silver tablespoon. Lisa laughed and pointed it out to Mike. Naturally, the twins would want some attention from their aunts and uncles, too.  And they got it after telling a bunch of jokes, talking into their “mics.”

“I’ve got something to share,” said Jen, looking at Mike’s mom. 

Lisa wondered what Irene had to do with this mystery. One thing she knew for sure—if Irene suddenly produced Doug Collins as a surprise Christmas guest, Jen would kill the woman. The guy from her writing class had become part of their dinner conversation whenever Jen was home early enough to eat with the family. With every new installment, Lisa didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as she listened to “what that skinny dumb guy had the nerve to say to me.” If this was a courtship, as Mike had said, it was certainly a rocky way to begin.

But the front door remained closed as Jen, carrying a large, rectangular box about a foot deep, walked toward Irene. She looked around the room and took a breath so deep Lisa could hear it. Then she tapped the box. 

“This is the secret project Aunt Irene and I started about two years ago when I was acting crazy. Going crazy. That was…a very bad time.

“But Mike’s mom had this idea…” 

She then removed the cover and, with Irene’s help, carefully unfolded and unveiled a colorful patchwork quilt of many squares. As more material was revealed, Lisa’s eyes filled and words wouldn’t come. Couldn’t come. She knew those fabrics. But Andy said it first.

“Daddy’s ties! You used Dad’s ties.”

“And Mommy’s apron!” exclaimed Emily. “The red-and-white snowflake apron. And her red-and-green Christmas apron, and over there’s part of her pink sweater with her name on it.”

“Everyone is on this quilt,” said Jen. “All of us.”

Their dad’s ties formed a sunburst around the enlarged photo in the center. There, Grace and Rob smiled at each other on their twentieth anniversary. In the corners were photos of the children. Their names marched across the quilt. Colorful and warm. Exactly descriptive of their family.

Lisa wrapped her arms around her sister. “It’s magnificent, Jenny, simply magnificent.”  She hugged Irene and thanked her. Then she glanced at Mike, noting his somber expression. He smiled when he saw her and approached, but directed his attention to Jen.

“Great job, kiddo. Just don’t let it get you down.”

A half smile appeared on Jen’s face. “I know what you mean, but I…I just had to do this. It felt right.”

“Ahh…” Mike’s eyes gleamed. “Going with your gut,” he stated. “I understand completely. And now…?” 

“And now the job is done.” Jen glanced toward the relatives, who were crowding around the quilt. “It was a labor of love,” she said softly. “But now, it’s done.”

Closure. The word sprang into Lisa’s mind as she listened to her sister. Grieving is a process, but it’s time to move on. It seemed Jen, who at one time provided Lisa with sleepless nights, had found a measure of peace. Lisa heard it in the younger woman’s voice, saw it in the determination of her jutting chin. Jen would soon be twenty years old. She was smart. Ambitious. Beautiful, too. On the cusp of adulthood. Of course, she was looking ahead to wonderful things.

Just as Lisa once had.

This time, however, nothing would get in the way of a Delaney daughter’s dreams. 

An hour later, the visitors slowly dispersed to the bedrooms. Before saying good night, Lisa’s uncles stood close and spoke to her and Mike quietly.

“You both were right, and we were wrong,” Ted began.

Steve agreed. “We can see how happy the children are to be together, and the two of you deserve the credit. You’re a wonderful couple. We just wanted you to know that.”

They shook hands with Mike, again wished him luck in the play-off game next week, and kissed Lisa. “You’re Grace’s daughter through and through,” whispered Ted before heading upstairs.

And I can’t let her down.

She and Mike watched the men leave the room. “They were right about one thing,” said Mike. 

“What’s that?”

“The kids. They’re doing better. They’re happier and more confident.”

“For once, we’re in total agreement, Mr. Brennan.”

“But we still need to work on the ‘wonderful couple’ part. I haven’t forgotten, so think about that.” With those words, he walked away.

She froze. More conflict lay ahead. “Merry Christmas, Mike,” she whispered. In the season of peace on earth, she longed for peace at home. Why was that so difficult? What was she missing?