Chapter 5

A month after their court appearance, Lisa cuddled against Mike on the living room couch, a large crocheted afghan around them. The children were finally in bed. Jennifer, too, had conked out. The kitchen was clean—a team effort—but once again, they had no leftovers. Either she hadn’t yet figured out the right amount of food to insure extra meals or she was afraid to spend enough in the supermarket.

She turned in Mike’s arms and stroked his cheeks, loving the feel of the stubble against her skin. He was a man, not a boy. “I feel better when you’re here. Just…just hold me now.”

His arms folded around her, warm and safe; her eyes closed and her breathing slowed.

“You’re falling asleep, baby,” he whispered. “Want me to put you to bed? Or better yet, want me to stay?”

She became more alert. “Yes…and no,” she slowly replied. I-I don’t know. What would the kids think in the morning? What would the social worker think or write if she knew?”

She heard his long drawn breath. “Lis…you’re the adult. The guardian. And you’re also a woman. Besides, we’re getting married in July. Sleeping together is not unheard of. In fact”—he rubbed his hand against the blue corduroy slipcover her mom had made years ago—“we’ve already put a few dents into this sofa. So don’t be a hypocrite. C’mon, honey. I miss you.”

And she missed him, but… “I know, I know, but it’s different now.”

He adjusted his position on the couch and looked straight into her eyes. “How?”

“I-I guess I worry more. With every decision, I wonder how the kids will react.”

“For Pete’s sake, Lis. I’m here so often I’m like a piece of furniture. They’re used to me being in their house.”

“But not first thing in the morning.” She met his gaze. “Maybe the little ones wouldn’t think twice, but Jennifer’s sixteen. And she’s smart.” She waited a beat. “Isn’t that self-explanatory?”

“So, let me see. Last month, we were afraid of what the neighbors would think. And now you’re afraid of what an almost-grown sister will think? I thought we were the adults.”

“Exactly.” Why was he being so dense? “You have no sisters, so I’ll spell it out.” She grabbed his hands and held tight. “Home should be a safe place. I’m afraid of embarrassing her, making her feel uncomfortable. She’s not used to an adult male roaming around her house in a tee shirt. Except for her dad. And that’s different.”

His gentle kiss on her brow made her weak with relief. He wasn’t dense, just uneducated about teenage girls. 

“I promise, Lisa, our home will be a safe place. I’d protect those kids with my life. As for Jen, I’ll kill any boy who touches her.”

On the right track, but still a bit clueless. She stroked his cheek, and he kissed her fingers and asked, “Don’t you think Jen would get used to me?”

“Sure, I do. After we’re married.” She saw the disappointment, offered a quick kiss. “This is my decision, Mike. And the answer’s no.”

She had to stand firm and do what she thought best for her sisters and brothers. But Mike’s disappointment made her uneasy, and worse, she sensed the unease ran deeper than a night without making love.   

“Is this the new M.O. around here?” Mike asked. “No discussions? You simply make a decision, and that’s it?”

“Of course n-not… Oh, God, I don’t know. They’re my responsibility…and…and…” She began to shake all over and wasn’t far from tears. This was about more than conflicting viewpoints. “Maybe your mother’s right, and we should wait. I can tell you’re angry, and that’s not good. We’ve never had such arguments before.”

His kisses covered her forehead, temple, cheek, and finally her mouth, and his love and care enveloped her. “I could never be angry with you for more than a minute, Lis. You’re everything to me.”

She returned his kisses in full measure and suddenly didn’t worry about her mom’s slipcovers or her siblings. Opening her arms, she reached for normalcy and pulled him close. “I’ve missed you, too.”

She inhaled the spicy fragrance of his familiar aftershave, loving the aroma just like she loved his firm touch, the sound of his deep voice, the feel of his broad chest that supported her weight with ease. And the powerful shoulders she stroked—all so familiar, all part of Michael Brennan. Her Mike.

His tongue invaded her mouth and heat flared inside her. He whispered her name. He was ready, hard against her. She wanted him, too, all of him, just as they’d joined together in happier days and would in the future, always and forever.

“Yes, Mike, yes…”  It had been a long time…

She heard the plastic wrap of the condom and smiled with satisfaction. He’d kept his senses when she had not. A man she could trust. “Love you, Michael.”

And then words weren’t important as she became lost in her own world—taken to the brink once, then again like the ebb and flow of an ocean wave until at last crashing onto the sand. What a release! Was Mike with her? She blinked and heard his raspy breath, saw his smile, felt more kisses.

“My, oh, my. So good,” she whispered and drifted off.

Morning light surprised her. She hadn’t slept through the night since the accident. Mike was gone, but the afghan covered her completely, tucked in around her just so. Tender care. Maybe, just maybe, life might make sense again. Hopefully, sooner rather than later. She crossed her fingers for luck and went upstairs to shower. A long Saturday waited with lots on her list to accomplish. Since she’d started subbing in the high school, the weekends were even more crucial for household prep.    

#

Jen was still in bed when Lisa got out of the shower.  “Your turn, and then we get busy.”

“I didn’t sleep much.” The teen yawned. 

“Mike was here late,” said Lisa quickly. “Did our talking disturb you?” She held her breath while waiting for Jen’s answer, hoping the private conversation had remained private. Jen seemed to ignore the question, however, just looked up with sad eyes.

“Do you think we’ll ever be happy again?”

Lisa quickly sat at the edge of the bed. Quicksand always surprised, but definitely took priority over anything else. “Yes, I do. But I think we’ll be sad first, like now. I think it’s a mix for a long time.”

“Well, I think it’s forever. We can never forget them, so how can we expect to laugh again?”

Time heals all wounds. Yeah, yeah, but she’d be damned if she’d offer Jen clichés. Her sister wanted and deserved more than that. Lisa mentally reviewed her carefully researched file on the grieving process. Research—one of her strong suits.   

“There are no rules about this, Jen. We have to accept that we’re going to cry hard and laugh little for a long time. That’s just the way it works.” An idea struck. “Remember when Grandma Molly died, and Mom was so sad for a long time? Remember, she just wasn’t herself?”

Jen nodded.

“Mom told me something that made me understand. She said, ‘No matter how old you are, a girl is never ready to lose a mother.’”

She could see her sister thinking. Then came the nod. “And she was much older when Grandma died than we are now.”

“So, it’s okay to be sad. But it’s not okay to keep it inside without talking about it.” She hugged the teen. “Thanks so much for talking to me. We have to communicate!”

“The word of the day.”

Lisa grinned and sighed with relief. She’d met Saturday’s first hurdle successfully. “See you downstairs.”

She peeked into the other bedrooms. Empty. But the beds were stripped, the linen piled on the floor. The day looked promising.

#

She quickened her step when the aroma of freshly brewed coffee tantalized her. Mike and the little ones were already at the kitchen table, but he stood as she entered. 

“Good morning.” His deep voice wrapped around her before his lips touched hers.

“It is, isn’t it?” said Lisa. “At least a better morning. I slept like a baby last night.”

His eyes gleamed, and she felt heat rise to her face. 

“Good, I’m glad you’re rested because we have a busy day ahead.”

“I have my lists.”

His wide grin confused her.

“We’ve got a new item in the number one spot,” he said. “We’re buying a car today.”

The boys whooped with excitement and ran around the room, but Lisa only stared.

“A car? I don’t think so when the only vehicle I could afford would probably break down a week later.” She rubbed her forehead as another thought came. “And I’m not taking a loan. We have enough money worries. We have to be careful.” 

Mike had been driving her and Jen to the high school each day since she’d started teaching three weeks ago. But his official off-season training programs would start soon, and he’d spend a lot of time in Boston. She’d probably wind up taking the school bus, riding with the students for a while. Or maybe with Irene. It simply couldn’t be helped.

“Relax,” said Mike. “We’re totally in synch. No loans, and no junk cars, either.”

Sighing, Lisa said, “If only the other driver had been insured…”  

 “Yeah. You’d have collected for accidental deaths and gotten enough for a brand new whatever you want with no financial concerns. Not that you’ll have any in a year or two, when my salary takes a jump…” 

 “I hope so.” But she counted on nothing. His whole career could crash in an instant. 

His eyes darkened, and she knew he read her mind. She squeezed his hand. “You’re the best, but you know the game…anything could happen.”

“I never think about the downside, and you never used to, either.”

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I have to consider everything now. My dad’s small life insurance policy provides the only stash of funds I have. Their car was worth less than what they owed, and the entire check went to the lien holder. The neighborhood fund and my aunts’ checks don’t total enough for a new car. We need the kids’ social security to live on along with my salary.” Her breath was gone by the time she finished.

His fingers intertwined with hers. “Shush… I called Jason Singer’s dad at their dealership and told him what we needed. He’s expecting us. A gently used Honda Pilot. Room for seven.”

She was familiar with the showroom. In a small city like Woodhaven, everyone became familiar with local businesses.  But…  

“Why didn’t you ask me first?” she demanded.

His brows rose to his hairline. “You had a problem, and I solved it. Sometimes, you need to take action instead of talking a thing to death. You’re like a dog worrying a bone.”

He might have a point, but still… “And what am I using for payments?”

Funny how the kitchen got very quiet. Even young Emily seemed to know they’d reached the crux of the matter.

“Here’s the deal, Lis. You cover the insurance. I’m taking care of the buy.”

She stared, didn’t blink. Shook her head. “No…”

“It’s an early wedding gift. That’s all. Stuff your pride in your pocket and get real. You can’t even get to the supermarket without a car.”

True enough. She’d been depending on Mike for rides for the last two months. “That’s really generous, honey, but…”

“No buts. The league’s salary, the base for a rookie like me, is more than your mom and dad earned together over several years.”

Somehow, she knew that. Just didn’t think about it. The money wasn’t hers.

“Hey, Lisa,” called Brian. “Don’t you know anything about football? Mike signed for 310,000 dollars. Isn’t that enough for everybody? Forever?”

#

That night, Lisa automatically reached for the black-and-white notebook.  Riffling through the pages, reading what Grace had written made her feel closer to the woman. She picked up a pen. The thought of writing her own entries just felt right. Calming. Perhaps therapeutic. Whatever. 

April 4, 2009—2.5 months after 

She supposed from now on, everything that happened, every topic she and the family would discuss would be measured in terms of before and after. 

Hi, Mom and Dad, 

Mike bought us an almost-new car this morning, a black Honda Pilot. He called it an early wedding present. I went along with this because…well…did I have a real choice? We desperately need a vehicle. Mike’s been driving us everywhere.

The kids think he makes oodles of money. They don’t understand that it could end tomorrow. He’s a die-hard, try-hard rookie who loves the game. However, he’s not the starting QB, so who knows if his contract will be renewed? 

Our lives aren’t a game. Expenses are real. Even Mike noticed the boys were outgrowing their winter jackets. How could he not when their wrists hang out of their sleeves? Then he studied Jen and Emily. He’s starting to understand that raising children is expensive, and admitted the cost of living in Boston will be high. We’d have to be careful for a while. 

“But in the long run, we won’t have any money worries,” he said.

This is what I told him: “I’m responsible for the kids, Mike. Not you. I’m glad to have your backup for emergencies, but you’re not taking them on financially.”

And you know what he said? 

“It’s a package deal, Lis. I love you, and the kids are part of you now. End of story.”

But I think he’s glad that I plan to find a full-time teaching job in Beantown. Maybe he’s not as sure of himself as he pretends to be. 

She put the pen down and stretched her fingers. Glancing at the pages, she was surprised at how much she’d written. And how much better she felt. Until she thought about moving away.

I don’t know if it’s right to remove the kids from our home, where they’re surrounded by everything familiar, including the neighbors. On the other hand, they’re also reminded of their loss everywhere they look. Because you’re not here. Maybe a new environment would be better for them. 

I know only two things for sure: 1) Mike and I need to have a real marriage, and that means being together all year long; and 2) I have to create a secure and perfect home for the kids. They must feel safe. So we’ll be moving to Boston soon after the wedding since the Riders play at Revere Stadium. I hope and pray it’s the correct decision, but I’m rarely sure about anything.

Mike is wonderful with the boys. Always tossing a football with them, asking about their homework, making sure they help around the house. He’s more cautious with the girls. But one night, Emily climbed onto his lap and fell asleep. When he carried her upstairs, his tender expression left nothing hidden. He viewed her as a precious gift. Maybe everything will work out.

Good night for now. I love you. 

Lisa, your lieutenant.

She tossed and turned after putting the notebook away in her night table, thinking about Mike’s parents. They’d been quiet lately, perhaps regretting going against their son’s wishes in the courthouse. Later, they’d offered perfunctory congratulations on her keeping the children. But Lisa hadn’t questioned them. And wouldn’t. Irene’s words had hurt, but she hadn’t deserted them. In fact, she’d taken Emily under her wing, inviting the child to bake cookies with her. She’d give the woman time. If Irene couldn’t get past her disappointment, well…that was her problem. 

#

Several nights later, Lisa put down her pen and stretched her arms overhead. She had as much homework as the students, and correcting history exams was slowgoing. She glanced at her watch. Nine o’clock on a school night, and no Jennifer. Something about a science fair project with her friend, Stephanie. But how long could a school project take? Jen wasn’t the social butterfly she’d been before the accident. Back then, family came in a far second to her friends. Their mom had laughed and accepted it as normal teenage behavior. Since the accident, however, Jen had become a homebody. Hated being at school, never talked much about her friends. 

Lisa would have to call Steph’s house and track Jen down. Then she’d finish correcting the papers and make lunches for tomorrow. After that, she’d clean the kitchen. In the morning, she had to face a bunch of high school kids who hated her. They’d loved their “real” teacher, who’d decided to have a baby. Was that Lisa’s fault?

Suddenly, it all seemed too much. Kids at home, kids at school, here, there, and everywhere, bringing lots of worry and responsibility. Her once-controlled world had been turned on its head. She started to laugh and couldn’t stop. A crazy laugh with long sounds and short ones. High notes and low ones. The kind of laugh that’s not quite hysteria, but oh, feels so damn good!

And when her laughter ebbed, she noticed Jen and Mike standing in the doorway, staring at her.

That’s when she burst into tears.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” Mike was by her side in a flash.

“Noth-ing.” She hiccupped and glared at her sister. “Why didn’t you call me? Why so late? I was worried. You can’t stay out so late on a school night, Jennifer, especially without letting me know.”

“Oh, yes, I can!” Jen snapped back, shocking Lisa. “Just for the record, I’m almost seventeen, and I don’t need you telling me what to do. But you’ll be happy to know I won’t be out late anymore. You know why? Because nobody understands. Not even Stephanie. I talk to her, but she doesn’t get it.”

Suddenly, the teen deflated, her defiance turning to tears. She plopped to the floor and began crying in earnest. Lisa sat next to her and pulled her close. She remembered the usual emotional upheavals of her own teenage years, but her sister’s life was anything but normal. 

“Jen, would you rather live with Aunt Sally or Aunt Pat? I bet we could…”

But the girl cried harder and shook her head so wildly that her long hair slapped Lisa in the face. “See! You’re just like Stephanie. She doesn’t want me around, either.”

“Geezus,” Mike whispered.

Lisa swallowed hard. “Don’t talk crazy. You’re my sister. I love you. Of course we want you.” 

Jen shrugged. “I guess you’re stuck with me,” she said. “My friends…?  They’re afraid. When they see me… They’re afraid it…it can happen to them.”

“That’s a hell of a way to treat you,” began Mike.

“I wasn’t sure about this move to Boston, but now…? I actually want to go with you and you”—she waved toward Mike—“and those brats upstairs.”

“And you will,” said Mike immediately, “as we planned.”

“I’ve just made an executive decision,” said Lisa. “We’re all going to talk to someone. A licensed counselor or therapist or whatever they’re called. Not Helen, the social worker. She doesn’t need to know everything.”

“Great idea,” said Mike.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” Jen asked, looking horrified. “I talk to Ms. Abrams sometimes, and she doesn’t think I’m crazy.”

“Ms. Abrams is a wonderful school counselor and is absolutely right,” said Lisa. “I think you’re in pain. We all are. I think ‘crazy’ would be to pretend nothing was wrong. So thank you for helping me avoid what could have become bigger problems.”

“Oh. In that case, you’re welcome. Maybe life will be easier in Boston. When this project’s over, I’ll be in earlier every night. Mike doesn’t have to search me out.” She scrambled to her feet and started toward the hallway. 

“I appreciate that,” said Mike. “We players need our beauty sleep, ya know?” He grinned. Jen giggled. And Lisa sighed with relief. 

“One more thing,” Lisa called after the teen. “How about getting together with me this weekend to work on that household budget—at least, with whatever information I have?”

Jen whirled. “Absolutely. This is my family, too. I want to know what’s going on.”

“Absolutely,” repeated Lisa. “And I need your help.”

Her sister’s genuine smile filled Lisa with satisfaction. She’d handled her well. Or, at least, she hadn’t made things worse.

After Jen disappeared upstairs, Lisa turned to Mike. “I think I intercepted some real trouble. What do you think?”

“You handled her like a pro.” He leaned over and kissed her. A serious kiss. “But be prepared, baby. Those four kids need their own full-time quarterback, and you’re it.”  

“I suppose so,” she said with a sigh. “The kids have to come first.” But how long until they matured enough so she could return to school? Her goals had been equal to Mike’s, and they’d both looked forward to sharing the excitement of their growing careers. Each one supporting the other, each reveling in the other’s successes. “One day,” she whispered, “I’ll go back.”

“Count on it.”