Fastball (15 page)

Not that it was going to be easy. It had
ripped her wide open to see Jake so disappointed. He had barely
spoken a word to her for the rest of the afternoon, stalking the
course as if he was performing a grim duty rather than playing what
was supposed to be a fun round of golf. He slammed booming drive
after booming drive, clearly working off his pent-up aggression.
Her game, on the other hand, had completely tanked. She had refused
to tell Martha what happened in the woods, and even Nate’s corny
jokes couldn’t lighten the foursome’s mood. Maddie had taken off as
soon as they had putted out on the eighteenth, having pleaded her
trip to Worcester in the morning as an excuse.

Not that going up to see her mom was an
excuse. She hadn’t been there for almost five weeks, which was
inexcusably long as far as she was concerned. But the overdue trip
couldn’t have come at a better time. Getting out of town and not
having to run into Jake Miller for at least the next three days
would give her some much-needed space. She desperately needed time
to think, to get away and figure out what she had to do to resolve
this untenable situation once and for all. Which of two rotten
choices was worse? Risking her career, or risking the chance to
have something with Jake Miller?

The drive to Worcester took her a little over
five hours, and by early afternoon she had pulled into the parking
lot at Fulton House Care Center. The cost of her mother’s care was
proving tough on Maddie’s finances, but it was well worth it.
Fulton House specialized in care for patients with Alzheimer’s and
other dementias, and the staff was well trained and totally
dedicated.

The elevator discharged her onto her mother’s
floor. The unit was cheery, clean, and bright, with big windows
that let in plenty of sunlight and walls that were painted in
soothing shades of blue. Still, no visitor could ever mistake the
purpose of the place, and Maddie had to struggle against an
overwhelming tide of grief whenever she set foot in there. It was
wasted emotion, she knew—her mother was safe and well-cared for—but
Maddie would never stop grieving for the loving parent who was
slipping away from her day-by-day.

It was well past the noon feeding time, so
the nursing staff was probably busy putting some of the residents
back to bed. She found her mother in her room, strapped into her
special wheelchair, staring out the window overlooking the
pleasantly landscaped courtyard.

“Hi, Mom,” she said in a loud voice. She
crossed the small bedroom, decorated with a few landscape prints
and several pictures of Maddie and her dad, and leaned in to kiss
her mother on both cheeks, French-style. But, as had been the case
for some time, there was no response to her greeting. Not even a
slight lift of the eyebrows, or flicker of a smile. Nothing but the
same vacant gaze that didn’t seem to take in anything.

She sank wearily down onto the hospital-type
bed that dominated the room. On days like this, she knew her
mother’s ability to connect was truly gone forever. Still, she
didn’t like crying in front of her, so she fought to suppress the
tears welling up in her eyes. But how could the most wonderful
person Maddie had ever known be reduced to such a state?

Genevieve Leclair had always vibrated with
life and intelligence. Of French-Canadian descent, her mom had
cherished her heritage, and had been a person with true
joie de
vivre
. Working as a nurse for over thirty years in local
hospitals, she had left her mark wherever she had gone as a
generous and much-loved caregiver. Outside work, she’d been a
dedicated volunteer, organizing or participating in just about
every charitable event that ever happened in Worcester. But even
with a full-time job and all her volunteer work, Genevieve had
never lost her primary focus—raising her only child, her beloved
daughter Madeleine.

Her mother had been determined that Maddie
would graduate from college, and it had been one of the happiest
days of her life when her daughter received her journalism degree.
She was even prouder when Maddie came home two years later from
Boston University with a Master’s degree in journalism in hand.

Only one thing had ever disappointed her
mother—that her daughter hadn’t yet married and started a family.
Maddie knew it wasn’t realistic for her mom to expect marriage and
children on some kind of old-fashioned timetable, but the
expectations had bothered her more than she’d ever let on. It
wasn’t like she was some career-obsessed woman who didn’t want to
be slowed down by kids or even a husband—she did want those things
in her life. But here she was on the verge of thirty, still single,
and even if she did find a man she wanted to marry, her mother
would never be aware of it. Nor would Genevieve ever be able to
hold her grandchildren, and that fact still cut through Maddie with
devastating sorrow.

And the whole crappy situation with Jake,
knowing she could never be with him, made the pain of all the
unfulfilled expectations even harder to bear.

Enough with the pity party, Maddie. Life is
hard, so you’d better get used to it.

Forcing back the mental tidal wave of gloom,
she began to gently massage her mother’s bony hands and wrists,
then worked her way up to her arms and shoulders, talking to her
the whole time. She knew it was good for her mother’s circulation,
and Maddie loved to do it. Her mother might not understand her
words, but she hoped she could feel all the love in her touch, even
if she wasn’t able to acknowledge it. She hoped it would get
through to her mom somehow, leaving a message of love and undying
gratitude.

“Mom, I’m in a bit of a pickle these days.”
She spoke quietly, leaning in close. Of course her mother would
probably not understand a word, but Maddie had never gotten over
the need to confide in her. “I met a guy who makes me feel…well, I
don’t know quite how to describe it. It’s so different from
anything I’ve felt before. There was something amazing between us
before we even said a word to each other.”

She paused to pick up the plastic glass of
apple juice that had been left on the table beside the bed and held
it up to her mom, positioning the straw so she could drink. In an
automatic response, Genevieve opened her mouth and took a long sip.
Maddie put the glass back down and continued massaging her mother’s
hands. “The crazy thing is that I hardly know the guy. But I know
that whenever I’m near him I feel a change in me. It’s like I have
a shell around me, or maybe some kind of force field, and it falls
away when Jake’s near. That’s his name, Mom—Jake Miller. He’s a
player with the Philadelphia Patriots.”

Maddie could feel a wry smile twisting her
lips. “Okay, I know what you’d be saying right now—that I shouldn’t
be dating athletes. And I’m not, actually. But I have to admit I
keep wanting to.”

She fell silent, thinking it through. If she
were still able to communicate, what would her mother say about the
situation with Jake? Would she want Maddie to risk everything,
perhaps even giving up her career in Philadelphia? What
would
Mom say if she knew Maddie was contemplating throwing
everything over for a guy?

The answer wasn’t long in coming. Her mother
would have delivered a quick and flat “no.” As much as she’d wanted
her daughter to get married and have a family, Genevieve had also
wanted Maddie to excel in her chosen profession. Widowed at an
early age, Genevieve had understood the need for a woman to be
independent. Husband and children, yes, but not at such a high
cost—a cost that could ultimately lead to bitterness and regret
over lost opportunities.

Feeling a little more at peace with her
decision to walk away from Jake, Maddie settled in for hours,
reading to her mother—though she didn’t have a clue how much her
mom actually comprehended—until the dinner meal cart arrived on the
floor. Whenever she was able to visit, she always fed her mom
herself. Usually there were two or three other family members doing
the same with their loved ones, but for most of the residents it
was a matter of waiting their turn until the nursing assistants had
time to get to them. It always made Maddie feel horribly guilty
that she couldn’t be there more often to help, since most days
Genevieve had to suffer through the indignity of the assembly-line
feeding process.

Sometimes life truly sucked.

Once her mother had finished eating, Maddie
helped the evening nurse settle her in for the night. She gave a
lingering hug and then kisses on Genevieve’s cheeks, promising to
return in the morning. Although it was still early, she was anxious
to get going, knowing she had to face bad traffic on her way across
town to an old college friend’s house where she would be spending
the night.

Emma Charles and her husband Reed lived in
one of those pricey suburban developments where the massive,
similarly-styled houses took up almost entire lots. Maddie thought
of those kinds of places as relatively soulless, but they seemed
pretty good places to raise a young family, with lots of room and
lots of mod cons.

Thirty minutes after leaving Fulton House,
she pulled into Emma’s driveway. As Maddie lugged her bag toward
the front door, her friend bounded out of the house and grabbed
her—bag and all—in a smothering hug.

“Oh, my God, it’s been too long since we’ve
seen you!” Emma cried. “The kids have been at me all day—when is
Aunt Maddie going to get here, when is Aunt Maddie coming. They’re
totally wound up.”

Maddie laughed, her mood starting to lift.
“I’m happy to be here, too, and I can’t wait to see the three
little monsters. Oh, and Reed too, of course,” she added
hastily.

Reed was genuinely a great guy. A successful,
hard-working corporate lawyer, he also managed to be a devoted
husband and family man. Emma maintained her career as a marketing
executive for a communications company while also being a great
wife and mother. They had always been role models for Maddie,
living proof that professional, hard-working couples could still
maintain a fulfilling family life.

Emma led her through the spacious entrance
hallway and into the enormous, fully-kitted out kitchen at the rear
of the house.

“I bet you could use a drink. You just came
from the nursing home, right? How’s your mom doing?” She reached
into the huge, stainless steel fridge and pulled out a bottle of
Australian chardonnay, Maddie’s favorite. “Hey, you guys,” she
yelled in the direction of the stairs off the main hall, “Aunt
Maddie’s here—get your butts down and see her!”

She gave Maddie a look of motherly
exasperation. “It’s all iPods and XBox games now. They’re always
plugged into something electronic. I usually have to disconnect
them before I try to communicate, but I hope they heard that
shout.”

“It’s weird isn’t it?” Maddie answered, as
she settled into a high, cushioned stool at the breakfast counter.
“Makes you wonder what kids would do if all those gadgets hadn’t
been invented.”

“Maybe get outside and play?” Emma replied
dryly. “I do force that on them at least one hour a day and they
actually seem to like it when I do. But enough about my little
monsters. Tell me about your mom.”

Maddie grimaced. “Any change there’s been has
been for the worse, I’m afraid.”

“Crap. I’m sorry, Mad. I hate that you have
to go through this.”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It is
what it is. I hate like hell what the disease has done to her, but
I try to accept it and go forward. Physically, she’s still pretty
healthy and she looks good and eats well. They take great care of
her at Fulton, thank God.”

“Good. Reed’s going out later to his weekly
poker game, so we’ll have all evening to catch up once the kids are
in bed.” She cocked her head. “In fact, I hear the buffalo herd
coming down the stairs now.”

A few moments later, seven-year-old Tyler and
five-year-old twins, Alex and Claire, burst into the kitchen.
Claire jumped up into Maddie’s arms, Tyler hugged her around the
waist, and Alex skidded to a stop and hugged her at the knees. She
almost lost her balance under the combined assault.

Maddie grinned and hugged them back, their
open affection pouring like a warm balm over her wounded spirit.
“Okay, you three ankle-biters,” she finally said, “you’d better let
go of me for a minute so I can see if there might be anything in my
purse for you.”

All three clapped their hands and yelled in
excitement. She always brought treats when she came—stuff like
special cookies, fudge, chocolate, and whatever other treats she
figured kids their age might like. Today, she’d brought along a big
box of colorful wrapped candies that she’d picked up in San
Diego.

Emma sighed with parental resignation as the
kids tore into the very chocolaty, very gooey candy.

Maddie laughed. “Hey, how often do I get to
give these guys junk you ban from the house?”

After several chaotic and sticky minutes, the
kids bolted out of the room, presumably to finish whatever
bloodthirsty video game they were playing.

“What about a thank you?” Emma yelled after
them.

“Thank you, Aunt Maddie!” chimed a chorus
from the second floor.

Maddie smiled, so freaking happy to be in
this warm, loving household. It felt like a benediction after all
the troubles of the last few days.

As they talked over wine, Emma prepared a
simple meal of roast chicken and Caesar salad. Reed arrived home,
they ate, and after the kids were excused and retreated back
upstairs, Maddie and Reed caught up on their respective careers
while they helped Emma do the dishes and tidy up.

After Reed left for his poker game, Emma
organized the kids and put them to bed. She then led Maddie into
the comfy den and clicked the remote of the CD player. The low,
mellow tones of Diana Krall softly filled the room.