Страница 37 из 58
Chapter 45
MILKY, EARLY MORNING light streamed through the window, illuminating a stack of essays Rachel had been poring over since early dawn.
With a cup of hot tea in hand, she re-read Erica’s essay for the third time, this time even slower than the second. She wasn’t sure what to make of the fixation Erica had with her mother. Rachel had known of Norah, Erica’s mother. But she didn’t remember Norah in the same light Erica did.
Every assignment: short story, essay, poem. . . was about Norah. The teenager was bright and she possessed exceptional determination, but her obsession with her mother made Rachel uneasy. From what she understood, the woman had abandoned her. And Erica had responded by making her mother out to be a heroine. The level of worship had to be unhealthy.
Rachel tossed the essay onto the table and walked into the living room for the first time that morning. She studied the furniture.
She and Tom had replaced their transitional set just two years before when they had inherited money from his now-deceased parents. They had also remodeled the kitchen and bought the two SUV’s. She had been proud of the changes, how classy the place had begun to look. But now everything looked cold.
She walked to the tall windows. Mid-way, she stopped. One of her dresses was lying on the floor. She picked it up and tried to remember when she last wore it. A year ago? The college’s last homecoming? Maybe. . . but why would it be on the living room floor?
With the dress under her arm, she moved through the room, picking up a half-filled glass of milk, an empty can of soda, another partially-filled glass of milk. Tommy had left his homework on the sectional. She went to pick it up and noticed a glass lying on the floor, then felt something cold and moist beneath her bare foot. She sighed.
After cleaning up the spilled soda, she walked over to the Van Gogh print that hung next to the staircase and straightened it, something she found herself doing several times a week for all the door slamming in the house.
She thought back to the figure she’d seen in the yard. Tom’s first question had been: ‘Were you drinking?’ Remembering his words infuriated her. But they were also begi
A clock alarm went off in the back of the house filling the air with the din of rock music. It was Tommy’s. Last night when they walked into the house after a trip to Wal-Mart, it had been going off, too.
A door opened and she heard footsteps. Rachel glanced at her watch. It was already seven o’clock. Tom and the kids were getting up. Tom had some days off and was going to take the kids to his sister’s for a couple of days. Lately, he’d made a point of spending time with them. Though she was relieved he was finally making an effort, she couldn’t help but notice that he scheduled special outings without considering her calendar. Or, even inviting her. But it was probably best, she thought. They needed time away from each other. Time to cool down and figure out where the relationship was headed. Having the kids with him during that time at least brought her some peace.
Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her hair and carried the dress to the laundry room. She headed back to the kitchen to make everyone breakfast.
***
AFTER HER AFTERNOON class ended, Rachel dodged Myrna and the other teachers who routinely stayed after class for afternoon coffee. She wanted to go straight home and use the time alone to finally look over the manuscript. She needed desperately to focus on something besides Tom. And she needed a drink. Maybe two. Two strong ones.
As she turned into the driveway, she saw Mac pulling the lawnmower out of the shed. Hearing the car’s engine, he waved. Surprised by the intoxicating tug she felt in her chest, Rachel climbed out of the car and walked up the little path that bordered the house. She gri
Mac, wearing a Dallas Cowboy t-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts stood next to the mower, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Ma’am?”
“Let’s have a glass of wine.”
“Mrs. Anderson, the grass. I really oughta—”
“Rachel, call me Rachel. And don’t worry about the grass. It’ll be here later. Unless you have somewhere else you need to be?”
Mac shook his head. “Nope, nowhere other than here.”
“Well, c’mon, then.”
Chapter 46
ONE GLASS OF wine turned into two, then three.
After the first glass, the two ended up moving from the kitchen table to the couch. Rachel asked Mac about his relationship with Haley, and he told her how strange she’d been acting since Tiffany disappeared, and how she’d pushed him away.
“That’s horrible,” Rachel said, her fingers going to her wrist, then remembered it was bare. Where could her bracelet be? she wondered. “Relationships are difficult enough without all of the stress she’s going through. Maybe she’ll feel differently once Tiffany’s found.”
Mac shrugged. “If she ever is.”
Rachel had the urge to talk to him about Tom. To ask him if he’d heard anything about the affair. If he’d heard their names spoken in reference to Tiffany’s disappearance. But, of course, she didn’t. It would be inappropriate. Even more so than having a few drinks alone with the young man.
Several moments later, Mac lifted his half-empty wine glass in front of his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever drank this much wine before,” he gri
“Going to your head?”
He nodded.
She was relieved to see that he was finally relaxing around her. At first he had seemed tentative, almost cautious in her presence, something she chalked up to their age difference. But finally, he seemed at peace. He even seemed as though he was enjoying himself.
They talked until two o’clock in the morning, until they’d finished a pot of coffee and Mac felt clear-headed enough to make it home. The grass remained uncut, but it was such a small price to pay for the hours she was able to forget about her problems. She had had a nice time.
In fact, it was the best conversation she could remember having with anyone for nearly a year. She had almost forgotten what it was like to have a decent adult conversation.
Chapter 47
ON SATURDAY EVENING, Rachel and Mac sat on the couch, finishing up a bottle of Merlot. Tom and the kids weren’t due to return until the next afternoon and when Mac again came by to cut the lawn, she’d insisted they sit and talk again.
Mac had seemed mildly hesitant when Rachel again invited him in, but his hesitance quickly dissipated and the two found much to talk about between the hours of four and six o’clock.
After the last drop of wine had been poured, Rachel failed to remember her problems or fears. . . or the nagging feeling that told her that this new friendship with Mac was inappropriate. After all, Mac was of age to do anything he wanted. And he wasn’t a student.
She just focused on the way Mac looked at her and how handsome he was. She had always thought him to be especially good-looking, but only lately had she noticed how much of a man the boy had become. She thought it strange how relationship troubles could do that to a woman. Make them notice such things.
Rachel set down the empty wine bottle. “Shall I uncork another?” she asked, grabbing for her bracelet, then remembering yet again that it wasn’t there.