Homefires (74 page)

I gazed desperately about to dispel my sudden melancholy – Toby laughed with Heather, joking and ribbing affectionately as they always did.
Do they ever think of Krissie?
The thought sprang forth of its own volition. I sighed and accepted the inevitable mother reflections.
Mother’s never forget
. Dawn talked passionately with a cousin about abolishing the death penalty and I thought sadly of how – though her curiosity simmered – she’d never actually
known
the sister she so closely resembled.

Kirk rarely spoke of Krissie. From our recent heart-to-hearts, I knew it was simply too painful for him. Though Kirk’s attendance at ACOA support group meetings had dislodged many of his fixations, some remained static. As with an alcoholic parent, the adult child’s recovery is a lifelong process.

One thing
had
changed. He was aware of his anger problem and worked desperately to dislodge it. At least I no longer felt myself its sole focus. He was more polite to me. But the passion of days past was, I was certain, gone for good.

“Hi.” His voice, at my ear, jerked me to
now.

“Hi.” We gazed at each other, lost for a moment in some yesterday when youth’s resilience sprouted unconditional hopes
and dreams. There is, in that instance of pure illusion-idealism, a moment when dark reality intrudes and steals bliss. Today, I nudged aside the shadows as I would a blowfly trying to light on my feast.

Cole manned the tape deck and put on Anne Murray’s
Could I Have this Dance for the Rest of my Life
? Bride and groom waltzed around the fellowship hall under the misty gazes of family and friends.

“I pray he’ll be good to her,” Kirk murmured huskily. I looked at him, knowing his heart to be as mine. Our differences, in that heartbeat, were of no importance. What mattered was this precious coalition, one formed over the years from a foundation of pure love.

“I pray he will, too.” I smiled up at him and slowly, a flicker of light in the green depths grew and grew, until it burst into a warm glow.

The waltz ended with Sam, in grandstand fashion, dipping Heather nearly to the floor, setting her upright, then spinning her into a graceful curtsy. The applause was deafening.

Their departure for a Myrtle Beach honeymoon was as grandstand as Sam Chase.

“They fooled everybody,” Toby muttered, throwing up his hands in good-natured resignation. “Took Sam’s brother-in-law’s car instead of the one we decorated so magnificently. All that art and talent
wasted.
”

Leave it to Toby to lighten everybody up.

I exhaled on a long sigh of relief, thinking
It is done.

From our porch, Kirk and I waved off the newlyweds – Heather had convinced Sam to circle back to our place for a private goodbye – and watched them disappear over the twilight horizon.

“Whatever happens, Kirk,” I impulsively laced my fingers with his and squeezed, “They’re in good hands.”

Kirk and I looked at each other, burst into laughter, then slowly, like a sudden sunset, he sobered and – as though catching himself – emptied his eyes of all feeling. My smile remained in place for long moments before his closing-off hit me.

Suddenly, it was too much. Years of deprivation, of no spontaneous “I love you,” bear hugs or “I need you,” crashed in on me.

We went into the den, where Kirk seated himself across the room from me.

“Why, Kirk?” I whispered.

His gaze darkened. “Why what?” The question reeked of disdain.

“I’ve given everything,” I murmured, more to myself than to him, “still it’s not enough.” Tears began to gather in my eyes. I tried to force them away, but Kirk saw them, because his mouth thinned into an even grimmer slash and the eyes became granite.

That’s it.
Something in me snapped in place. I swiped the tears from my cheeks and clasped my hands in my lap. “Kirk, I want a divorce.”

The eyes slowly shifted from glacier to amused. The mighty fingers steepled to the hard lips now.
He doesn’t take me seriously.

“I’m as serious as I’ve ever been in my life, Kirk,” I said in an even voice that did me proud. I would not cry this time. I wouldn’t give Kirk whatever satisfaction it seemed to give him. I supposed my tears were proof to him that I was as unstable as his poor mother had been in her lifetime.

I stood. “I plan to see a lawyer tomorrow morning. I suggest you choose one.”

I turned to leave. “Why, Neecy?” he asked quietly, fingers still steepled.

I pivoted and gazed levelly at him. “Because you don’t love me, Kirk.” I shrugged. “I want to free you to see the person you’ve grieved over all these months and years.”

His brow furrowed like trenches. “What in blazes are you talking about?”

I waved a hand at him. “Don’t get upset. I’m not doing this in anger or haste. I’m simply setting you free to pursue your own life, Kirk.”

He was on his feet, coming at me. Instinctively, my hand shot out as a shield. “Just – don’t hit me, Kirk.” The fear was there, stronger than ever. Now that I’d known the violent man, I couldn’t deny Kirk’s propensity to do harm.

He stopped like running up against concrete, his eyes blazing. “
Hit
you! My God, Neecy, how could you even think that? All this talk is crazy – ”

I turned to flee, but he was quicker. I hated the terror that shook me like a rag doll, made me cower as he seized me with strong hands, hands that hadn’t touched me in tenderness for so long I’d forgotten their magic. “Please, Kirk – ” I whimpered as fingers dug into the soft flesh of my arm, “just let me go.”

He stared at me as if I’d gone stark raving mad. “I
can’t, Neecy.”
His wild green eyes desperately raked my features as I flinched and shrank from him. “Don’t you understand?” he ground between clenched teeth, causing me to cringe with each word, “I
love you!”

“No,” I whispered, my head moving wildly from side to side as I tried to claw free. “No, Kirk, you don’t love me.”

He hauled me to him, crushed me with his arms. “I love you, for God’s sake, Neecy. I love, love – ”

“
Nononono!”
I pushed against him, but he only held on tighter, burying my face against his spicy smelling neck. I strained against him with all my might, resisting his words. They weren’t true. I’d spent years with the truth. “You
do-not-love-me,
Kirk,” I rasped, glaring at him, tears of frustration flowing freely, and I didn’t care. “How can you say – ”

“Oh
God!”
He threw back his head and wailed, “What have I done
to you? Oh Neecy,” he
began to sob then, great soul wrenching sobs, his arms still wrapping me like conduit. It was his desperate note of remorse that snapped me out of my hysteria, made me
hear
him.

I grew still in his embrace, stopped fighting. Bewildered. Confused. Numb. His hands began to gently move over my back, my shoulders....

“Stop, Kirk,” I whispered, fear rising in me like steam on cold air. His arms were beginning to feel
right
again. “I know you think you love me right now, this minute – but what about tomorrow and the next day. Will you still love me? Or will your anger drive it away again? Oh, Kirk,” I sobbed suddenly, “I can’t live with the rage anymore. It’s killing me. I’ve got to get away from it – ” I tried to wrench free of the viselike hands only to feel arms circle my waist as Kirk slid to his knees before me, his face pressed to my torso.

“Please, Neecy,” he whispered, his warm breath penetrating my blouse to seep into my skin, “don’t leave me.” He looked up at me, his eyes tortured green pools, his voice guttural, “I can’t live without you.”

As naturally as I drew my next breath, my arms slid around his neck and brought his face to my bosom. And I knew, in that moment, that my love had not died after all.

Kirk and I talked long into the night after Toby and Dawn got home from their Friday movie trek and turned in.

We made love at intervals, as if to convince ourselves we were truly together. “I’ve never, for one moment stopped loving you,” Kirk murmured over and over. “There’s never been an instant that I would have traded you for anybody or anything in this world.”

When he saw my dubiousness, he took care to dispel it. I found I no longer believed his declarations as I once had. That fact didn’t alarm me. I now accepted Kirk, clay feet and all, loving him still. I kept silent, hoping he’d simply accept, as I had through the years, that trust must sometimes take seed, root and grow. Perhaps I had the advantage, having lived for so long with no nurturing; I’d developed a strength to survive emotional abandonment. I listened to his perceptions, knowing
he
believed them.

“Neecy, my anger was at myself. Not you. Never you.”

I smiled sadly at him. We lay side by side on our bed, legs entwined, faces together, touching. “It came out that way, nevertheless,” I said gently. “I guess it’s the coldness. The – empty way you look at me. Like I’m not there,” I whispered. “That’s the worst part, Kirk. You acting like I’m not there.”

“Ahh, honey,” he caressed my cheek, his face tortured, “I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you. I’m so screwed up it’s not even funny.” He rolled onto his back and cupped his head in his hands and glared at the ceiling. “One thing all adult children have in common is the numbing out, the turning off of emotions. We developed it for survival purposes way back when there was nobody to parent and protect us from all the violence and abuse. It wasn’t
you
I turned off, it was the things in myself.”
He shook his head. “I know it’s hard to understand. I don’t even understand it all myself. Not yet.”

“Going to the ACOA meetings has helped me see myself in each person there. We’re like danged
clones,
Neecy. Control freaks. Chips on our shoulders.
God
! You wouldn’t believe the junk we carry from childhood. I’m only just getting an inkling of what happened to me back there when Dad raged and roared and ran us all into the woods with his car.” He swiveled his head and angled me a tormented look. “Can you imagine running for your life from your own dad?” His gaze bounced again to the ceiling. “Does things to your mind. To your trust in mankind.” He gave a soft huff of a laugh. “You were right all the time, Neecy. I
haven’t
totally trusted anybody in my life, not even God. I have this drive in me to be in control – so nobody ever victimizes me again.” He shook his head and grimaced. “It’s terrible. I hate it.”

“Well, at least you know where it’s coming from now. Kirk,” I licked my lips, determined to ask him. “I’ve had the impression that you were in love with – someone else. That was the only reason I knew that would make you turn on me so completely all this time. Were you?”

He rolled to face me, his eyes clear and intent. “
No
. Never, Neecy. That’s one thing I’m not confused about. If you don’t hear anything else, hear this: you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. I mean that with my whole heart.”

I said nothing. Only nodded. I just – let it go. I could – in a sense – understand Kirk’s claims that traumas could play with one’s mind. I realized it would be a long, long time – if ever – before I would fully believe his words. Again, I took comfort in knowing that
he
believed them. I took comfort, too, that I still could feel compassion for him.

Another thing sustained me. I’d come through a dark, dark forest, where thorny kudzu-mazes entangled me over and over again through the years. Yet, I’d fought my way through and from them time and time again. I’d endured while my sanity prevailed and a new strength blessed me.

The old anxieties were gone. I knew that, if I had to, I could face just about anything.

“I love you, Neecy,” my husband’s arms slipped around me and our bodies meshed like warm silk.

“I love you, too, Kirk.”

Not like I once had. Not yet. But I was glad he’d stopped me from leaving. Because there was nowhere else I’d rather be than right there, in his arms. There was no one else for me. Only Kirk.