Chapter 8

“I guess we each have a job to do,” said Lisa on the phone that evening. “But I miss you.”

“It’s mutual, baby.”  

Lisa glanced around the cluttered kitchen. “The place looks like we’ve had a break-in. Stuff is strewn everywhere. Cartons are half-full. Every time I want to donate something to the thrift shop, one of the kids pulls it out of the giveaway bag. I’m afraid we’ll be moving everything to Boston.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’ll be easier on them if they take what they want.”

She sighed. “There won’t be enough room in the new house.”

“Stop worrying. The place is only temporary anyway. If I make the cut—and I’m counting on that—and have a multi-year contract, we’ll buy a big house with plenty of room in a great neighborhood. No more renting.”

He sounded confident, sure of the future, while she counted on nothing. Guarantees didn’t exist.

“Talk to me, baby,” Mike cajoled. “How are you doing?”

His voice caressed her, so warm and intimate he could have been standing next to her, holding her, loving her. Unexpectedly, her lips quivered, her throat hurt, and she burst into tears. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Cleaning out their bedroom was…was just awful. Oh, Mike, if the Ladies Auxiliary hadn’t helped me today, I’d be a total basket case. Mom’s dresses. Her blouses. Every time I touched one, I could smell her perfume. The fragrance lingers… We were all crying, all her friends… And I chose to keep several items. Finally, the ladies kicked me out of the room.”

“Sounds like a good thing.”

“Maybe, but your mother was crying, too.” Lisa sniffed into a tissue. “She’s…she’s been okay lately. Maybe the wedding turned her around.” Irene’s heart needed to be made of stone for her not to have grieved again that day. As for the future?  Lisa had no idea what to expect.

“I’m so sorry not to be there with you.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“Maybe I could talk to my coach…”

For a moment, she hoped…but then said, “No. You need to focus on your job.”

She heard him sigh with relief and knew her response had been the correct one. The only one. 

“Thanks, honey. I really do need to focus—and perform. Everyone’s watching. The team needs a strong QB line to back up Vince Shepherd. The press is giving us a lot of coverage. I can’t afford to screw up. My job has to come first.”

She listened, she heard. All her assumptions were confirmed. Residual doubts began to clear. Michael Brennan was not simply the boy across the street. He was not simply her new husband and brother-in-law to her siblings. When he used the word job, he was not referring to a new graduate’s nine-to-five management training position. He was talking about a talented quarterback in the NFL, where huge amounts of money were invested and where millions of people would be watching him every single time he took to the field. There was nothing simple about it, and he’d made his position clear: his primary responsibility would be to the team. 

“I get it,” she said. “I’ve understood for a while now.”  

“Lis?”

“Yes?”

“Do you really understand the possibilities?  If I have a good year, life will be a lot easier for everyone.”

It always came down to money. “Don’t worry about it, Mike. You’re doing enough. Play the game and just stay safe. I’ll be teaching again in Boston and will cover the children’s expenses. They’re my responsibility anyway. We’ll manage fine.” 

“Damn it, Lis. Don’t split hairs about the kids. We’re in this together and raising them together, so stop worrying.” 

But worrying was something she did well now. Sure, she wanted Mike’s emotional support, his problem-solving skills, his partnership—for herself. The children, however, were hers to feed, clothe, and provide for. Just like her mother had. Grace had used her paycheck for food and clothing while their dad had picked up the mortgage and utilities. The kids’ needs—and they had plenty—must not interfere with Mike’s growing career. Wasn’t that Irene’s real message on that walk they’d taken after Mike bought the car? 

She hung up the phone and, with renewed determination, continued to attack the kitchen on Hawthorne Street. Mike had called her the quarterback at home, and she was. Her players and her field might be different, but the object of the game was identical: leading her team to the end zone.  

Tenants would be moving into the Delaney house on September first. With option to buy. The place had to be ready for them, and it would be.

“Lisa…Lisa!  We can’t move.” Emily’s voice.

For God’s sake, what now?  She pivoted and turned her attention to the child who was flying toward her, with Andy and Brian following like a miniature posse.

“Well, if you don’t pack your stuff, we’ll never get out of here,” she began.

“Emily’s wacky,” said Brian. “She thinks—”

“We can’t leave,” interrupted Emily, ignoring her brother. “We can’t leave, Lisa, because…because…Mommy and Daddy won’t know where to find us.”

Sucker-punched. No breath. A blank mind. Why did the kids always ambush her when she was least prepared? She ignored the packing, the new tenants, even her husband, except to wish she had a playbook as big as his to handle every home situation. The boys’ eyes narrowed as they looked at Emily, definitely skeptical about her proclamation, but with just enough doubt to reveal they weren’t a hundred percent sure she was “wacky.” 

“Of course Mom and Dad will know,” said Lisa, somehow managing to infuse assurance into her voice. “In Heaven, they know everything.” Simple was was good, she thought, and besides, she couldn’t think up anything else.“Oooh,” whispered Emily. “Like God. And Santa.”     

“That’s just about right.” Weak with relief, Lisa sagged against the table just as Emily threw herself into her arms. 

“You know everything, too,” the child said. “I love you, Lisa.”

“And I love you…and you…and you…” Lisa said, shifting Emily to one hip and hooking her brothers around their necks with her free arm. “And Jen, also. Where is she?”

“Right here,” said the teen.

Lisa turned to the doorway. Her sister stood quietly, eyes red-rimmed, complexion blotched. Lisa sucked in a breath. Jen usually did not keep emotions bottled up. But Lisa should have realized by now that when the important questions stirred the air, Jen wasn’t far behind her siblings. 

“You heard?”

“They asked me first. Of course, the question is ridiculous, but I didn’t know what to tell them,” Jen replied.  “Their questions are never, ever easy. Who gave them such brains? I’m the one who really wants to move to Boston, so I was going to brush them off with a simple answer. But then I got to thinking…we were so happy here in this house…”

More tears rolled down the teen’s face. Lisa inhaled, lowered Emily to the floor, and hugged Jen. This sister was a young girl, too. She’d started counseling sessions—they’d all started—but sessions weren’t magic bullets. Healing took time. Jen was still grieving, trying to push the pain away while still clinging to a happy but elusive past. Now, Lisa’s job was to move them all forward, to get their buy-in once more. They simply couldn’t go backwards. She looked from one to the other.

“I cry, too. Just like Jen and you and you and you,” she said, pointing to each sibling. “It’s okay to cry.” She slowed her delivery. “And it’s true, we were happy here. But were is the key word.” She gestured over her shoulder to indicate the past. “Understand?” she asked the younger ones. “Our lives aren’t the same now. We voted to stay together, right?”  

They all nodded, every one of them. “And that’s the most important thing,” Andy said.

Lisa took another deep breath, her nerve endings raw.  “Does everyone still feel that way?” It seemed she took the temperature of the family every week.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” She turned to Jen, who hadn’t replied. “Are you not sure, sweetheart?” She took a breath. “I’m going to ask you again before we make the move. Would you rather be somewhere else, like at Aunt Pat’s or Aunt Sally’s?”

Her sister’s complexion paled. “I knew it! You don’t want me, do you?”

“Don’t be an ass! Of course I want you. We all do.” Being “wanted” had become Jen’s theme recently. Was that part of being a self-centered, self-conscious teenager? Or were her friends still acting aloof?

Only the ticking of the clock permeated the silence. Jen’s sobs came next. Her whole body shuddered. “Lisa, Lisa!” She blindly reached out, and Lisa grabbed her around. “Sometimes, I feel lost. I really, really want Mommy. That’s who I want.”

So do I. And Daddy. Lisa was trembling as hard as her sister, trembling from head to foot. “You’re not lost, Jen. I’ve got you. I’m holding you tight.” 

She motioned the little ones over. “Family hug. We need a family hug right now.” Small arms and larger arms, five sets intertwined around each other, pressing with a force that gratified Lisa.

Brian spoke up next. “We went to family court so we could stay together. So, why’s everybody crying? We’re staying together.”

“We thought that staying together was what Mom and Dad would want us to do,” said Jennifer in a stronger voice. 

The others nodded.

“Okay, then,” the teen continued, “let’s stick with the game plan. We’re the Delaneys, and we’re sticking together.”

“Exactly,” said Lisa, relieved at Jen’s recovery. “Get packing. And write in your journals. I find it helps getting through the hardest times.”

Crisis averted—this time. But if she had to handle a family meltdown every day, she’d never be able to go the distance.  

#

August 1, 2009

Dear Mom and Dad, 

We moved into our new home today. It’s almost midnight, and I should be exhausted. But I can’t sleep. Mike’s down for the count, fast asleep next to me. Training camp started three days ago, and sleep is his new best friend.  

Leaving Woodhaven was hard. Gail, Sandy, and I ate lunch together on our front porch and watched the movers dismantle our house—we took almost everything. But when my friends had to return to work, we all had a tough time holding back the tears. We’ve been friends forever, but deep inside, I know nothing will be the same. Gail said they’d call and visit so often I’d get sick of them. As if.  

You provided a happy home in Woodhaven, but if I look backwards, I’ll be no good for the kids. Sandy and Gail said I was “amazing.” Ha! They don’t know how unsure I am inside. I tried to smile and joke with them as another piece of normalcy disappeared. 

“What’s a hundred miles?” I said. “It’s nothing! You can even come in for a day.”

“Maybe for shopping…”

“Or a football game…” Gail’s eyes gleamed. “Jason would love that.”  Have I mentioned that Gail and Jason are now engaged?

“I’ll see what I can do about tickets,” I said. “I might have a connection.” 

Light and easy was working, but then they had to leave.

“Don’t you dare say good-bye,” I said “Just say see you soon. Because…because I don’t know what I’d do without you both.” 

We hugged so tightly my hands hurt. And then they were gone.  

I’m lucky to have such great friends, but logistics count. Sandy and Gail will continue their lives in familiar surroundings while I explore new territory—meet new people, establish new routines, run a big household, and start a new job in a new school with new colleagues.  

Overwhelmed at her own words, she wanted to hide under the covers. Sometimes, it was all too much. Just too much.  

You can do anything you set your mind to, my college girl! 

She grasped the notebook tightly. A talisman. Her dad’s voice seemed so real she listened for more but heard only the sound of Mike’s gentle snoring.

She continued to write. For a moment, Daddy, I thought you were here with me. But thank you for that memory. I won’t let you down.