Happy Ever After
Page 65
She still had countless arrangements and plans to finalize for Emma’s wedding, and for Laurel’s.
Then there was the book proposal.With the changes and additions her partners had put in, it was as solid and ready as it could be.Time to send it to the agent, she thought.
Really, the simple truth was she didn’t have time for a relationship.
At some point, down the road, maybe. But not now. And she would certainly expect and demand a full partnership, a real meeting of minds, absolute trust.
As her parents had.
She couldn’t be—wouldn’t allow herself to be—in love with a man who didn’t want the same. However much it hurt now to realize that, to accept that, it would hurt more later if she denied it.
“Hey, Parker.”
She jerked out of the internal debate, and stared at Carter as he veered toward her, briefcase in hand.
“Carter. I’ve lost track of the time.You’re leaving for work.”
“Yeah. Is everything okay?”
“Sure. I just . . . I’d better get inside, get to work.”
He took her hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Really. I didn’t get much sleep last night, so I’m . . .” Doing exactly what Malcolm had done. Closing down, closing in.
“I think Malcolm and I ended things last night.”
“I’ll be sorry if that’s true. Can you tell me why?”
“I guess we don’t have enough common ground, or look at things the same way. Or want the same things.”
That wet fist tried to flex again.
“Carter, I’m not really sure. I don’t understand him.”
“Do you want to?”
“I always want to understand, and I’d say that’s why things aren’t going to work.”
He set his briefcase down where they stood, then draped an arm around her shoulders and began to walk.
“You have to get to work.”
“I’ve got some time. When Mac and I were having problems, when I felt I didn’t understand her, you helped me.You gave me some insight into her that I needed. Maybe I can do the same for you.”
“He won’t let me in, Carter. There are all these locked doors. Whenever I ask him about the hard things—and the hard things are a factor in making us who we are—he says it’s no big deal, it was a long time ago, or just shifts the subject.”
“He doesn’t talk about himself much. I think you’re right about the locked doors. And I think there are some people who lock them so they can open others.That they think they won’t be able to walk through the others if they don’t shut out what came before.”
“I understand that, I do. To a point. But how can you be with someone, hope you might stay with someone, who isn’t willing to let you see what they locked away, who won’t share the problems, the bad times? Who won’t let you help?”
“From the little he’s said, and more from what my mother related, he took some pretty hard knocks as a kid. Emotionally when he lost his father, physically from his uncle and aunt. You can’t be a teacher without dealing with kids who’ve been through something like that, or are going through it. In a lot of cases, trust takes time, and a lot of work.”
“So I should give it more time, be patient, and work harder.”
“Some of that’s up to you.” He rubbed her arm as they walked. “On his part, I’d have to say he’s crazy about you and hasn’t quite figured out how to handle it. You want, need, and deserve the whole picture, and he’s thinking you should look at what he is now, that it should be enough.”
“That’s a good analysis.” She sighed and, grateful, leaned on him a little. “I don’t know if it makes me want to move forward or away, but it’s a good analysis.”
“I bet he didn’t get much sleep last night either.”
“I hope not.” It helped to smile, and she did as she turned to hug him. “Thank you, Carter. Whatever happens, this helped.”
She drew back. “Go to school.”
“Maybe you could take a nap.”
“Carter, who are you talking to?”
“I had to try.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek, started toward his car again. Nearly tripped over his own briefcase before he remembered it.
“Mac.” Parker breathed it as she turned to go inside.“You’re so damn lucky.”
She paused a moment, just to study the house, the soft blue of it against the brilliant sky. All those lovely lines, she thought, the pretty touches of gingerbread, the gleam of windows. Like a wedding, she decided, those were details. At the core it was more than house, even more than a home, which was so vital to her. It was a symbol; it was a statement. It stood as it had for generations, a testament to her name, to her family. By standing it proved it was in her blood to build to last.
How could she build with Malcolm without understanding his foundation?
She went in through the kitchen. Coffee, she thought, a decent breakfast to boost some energy into her system. Maybe the answers would come, one way or the other, once she made herself fall back into routine.
But when she walked into the kitchen, Mrs. Grady sat at the counter, her eyes wet.
“What is it, what’s wrong?” Her own troubles forgotten, Parker rushed around the counter.
“There was a terrible accident last night. A car accident.”
“I know. Del said something about it. Oh God. Someone was killed? Someone you knew?”
“Worse than that. There were three girls—teenagers. There’d been four, but they’d just dropped the other off at home.They’re all dead, all of them.”
“Oh, no. Oh God.”
“I know the mother of one of them, from the book club I’m in.”
“Mrs. G, Mrs. G.” Parker wrapped her arms around her, rocked. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“There were two people in the other car. One’s stable now, they say, the other still critical.”
“I’m going to make you some tea.” She brushed Mrs. Grady’s hair back from her face. “You lie down awhile, and I’ll bring it to you. I’ll sit with you.”
“No, I’m all right here.We know, you and I, how death—sudden and cruel like this—how it devastates you.”
Then there was the book proposal.With the changes and additions her partners had put in, it was as solid and ready as it could be.Time to send it to the agent, she thought.
Really, the simple truth was she didn’t have time for a relationship.
At some point, down the road, maybe. But not now. And she would certainly expect and demand a full partnership, a real meeting of minds, absolute trust.
As her parents had.
She couldn’t be—wouldn’t allow herself to be—in love with a man who didn’t want the same. However much it hurt now to realize that, to accept that, it would hurt more later if she denied it.
“Hey, Parker.”
She jerked out of the internal debate, and stared at Carter as he veered toward her, briefcase in hand.
“Carter. I’ve lost track of the time.You’re leaving for work.”
“Yeah. Is everything okay?”
“Sure. I just . . . I’d better get inside, get to work.”
He took her hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Really. I didn’t get much sleep last night, so I’m . . .” Doing exactly what Malcolm had done. Closing down, closing in.
“I think Malcolm and I ended things last night.”
“I’ll be sorry if that’s true. Can you tell me why?”
“I guess we don’t have enough common ground, or look at things the same way. Or want the same things.”
That wet fist tried to flex again.
“Carter, I’m not really sure. I don’t understand him.”
“Do you want to?”
“I always want to understand, and I’d say that’s why things aren’t going to work.”
He set his briefcase down where they stood, then draped an arm around her shoulders and began to walk.
“You have to get to work.”
“I’ve got some time. When Mac and I were having problems, when I felt I didn’t understand her, you helped me.You gave me some insight into her that I needed. Maybe I can do the same for you.”
“He won’t let me in, Carter. There are all these locked doors. Whenever I ask him about the hard things—and the hard things are a factor in making us who we are—he says it’s no big deal, it was a long time ago, or just shifts the subject.”
“He doesn’t talk about himself much. I think you’re right about the locked doors. And I think there are some people who lock them so they can open others.That they think they won’t be able to walk through the others if they don’t shut out what came before.”
“I understand that, I do. To a point. But how can you be with someone, hope you might stay with someone, who isn’t willing to let you see what they locked away, who won’t share the problems, the bad times? Who won’t let you help?”
“From the little he’s said, and more from what my mother related, he took some pretty hard knocks as a kid. Emotionally when he lost his father, physically from his uncle and aunt. You can’t be a teacher without dealing with kids who’ve been through something like that, or are going through it. In a lot of cases, trust takes time, and a lot of work.”
“So I should give it more time, be patient, and work harder.”
“Some of that’s up to you.” He rubbed her arm as they walked. “On his part, I’d have to say he’s crazy about you and hasn’t quite figured out how to handle it. You want, need, and deserve the whole picture, and he’s thinking you should look at what he is now, that it should be enough.”
“That’s a good analysis.” She sighed and, grateful, leaned on him a little. “I don’t know if it makes me want to move forward or away, but it’s a good analysis.”
“I bet he didn’t get much sleep last night either.”
“I hope not.” It helped to smile, and she did as she turned to hug him. “Thank you, Carter. Whatever happens, this helped.”
She drew back. “Go to school.”
“Maybe you could take a nap.”
“Carter, who are you talking to?”
“I had to try.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek, started toward his car again. Nearly tripped over his own briefcase before he remembered it.
“Mac.” Parker breathed it as she turned to go inside.“You’re so damn lucky.”
She paused a moment, just to study the house, the soft blue of it against the brilliant sky. All those lovely lines, she thought, the pretty touches of gingerbread, the gleam of windows. Like a wedding, she decided, those were details. At the core it was more than house, even more than a home, which was so vital to her. It was a symbol; it was a statement. It stood as it had for generations, a testament to her name, to her family. By standing it proved it was in her blood to build to last.
How could she build with Malcolm without understanding his foundation?
She went in through the kitchen. Coffee, she thought, a decent breakfast to boost some energy into her system. Maybe the answers would come, one way or the other, once she made herself fall back into routine.
But when she walked into the kitchen, Mrs. Grady sat at the counter, her eyes wet.
“What is it, what’s wrong?” Her own troubles forgotten, Parker rushed around the counter.
“There was a terrible accident last night. A car accident.”
“I know. Del said something about it. Oh God. Someone was killed? Someone you knew?”
“Worse than that. There were three girls—teenagers. There’d been four, but they’d just dropped the other off at home.They’re all dead, all of them.”
“Oh, no. Oh God.”
“I know the mother of one of them, from the book club I’m in.”
“Mrs. G, Mrs. G.” Parker wrapped her arms around her, rocked. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“There were two people in the other car. One’s stable now, they say, the other still critical.”
“I’m going to make you some tea.” She brushed Mrs. Grady’s hair back from her face. “You lie down awhile, and I’ll bring it to you. I’ll sit with you.”
“No, I’m all right here.We know, you and I, how death—sudden and cruel like this—how it devastates you.”
