The Right Time (31 page)

Hennessy got up and went to her favorite seat, the wide window ledge in their common room. It was a nice day. Sunny and warm enough to ditch your gloves. Looking down at the people walking along with an extra bounce in their step, she wondered how many of them had problems that gnawed at them like addiction did her. Probably an awful damned lot of them. She craved a quick chat with Angela, but that had to wait. Townsend came first.

A thought bubbled to the surface. “You know, you might be trying to do too much at once. Maybe you should hold off on trying to stop smoking for a while. That might lessen the pressure.”

“But you don’t like it when I smell like smoke,” Townsend whimpered.

“No, I don’t. But that’s not what matters. You need to find another sponsor as soon as possible and talk about this with him or her. Maybe you need to wait a little to work on your smoking.”

“You won’t want to kiss me,” Townsend murmured. “Your kisses are all I think about.”

“I’d kiss you if you had a big, nasty plug of tobacco in your mouth,” Hennessy teased.

“Maybe. But you wouldn’t like it.”

Hennessy took a minute to focus, then asked the question she thought about every time she went to a meeting. “Do you ever feel like you’re getting sober just for me?”

“
Just
for you?”

“Yeah. I need to know.” Hennessy’s blood pressure climbed as each second ticked away. A group of guys gathered in the grass and started to toss a football around. They looked like they were having so much fun. Carefree. Literally. Free of care. What must that be like?

It took Townsend forever to respond, each passing moment adding to the knot in Hennessy’s gut. Finally, she spoke, her voice surprisingly reflective, “At first, it was all because of you. But not now. Now, I feel like I’m doing this for me and for you and for us. I’d have been dead before I was thirty if I’d kept going at the rate I was. Sharon always said, if you’ve gotta stop sometime, it might as well be now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course I’m sure.”

Hennessy let out a huge sigh, feeling some of the crushing weight lift from her shoulders. “You have to focus on the things that make you want to stay sober. Not the fact that
I
want you to. This isn’t going to work if it’s all because of me. This has to be something that’s important to you—for you.”

“It is. I swear it is. I want to live. I’ll admit that one of my main reasons for living is to be with you, but that’s not the only reason.”

“Tell me the other reasons. I need to know.”

“Okay.” Townsend took a moment, then said, “I’ve started to enjoy life. For the first time in a long time, I’m happy to wake up in the morning. You’re going to laugh,” she said, “but I’ve started to become a nature freak. Just like you.”

Hennessy laughed, a real, lighthearted, genuine laugh that made her feel really close to her own age. “A nature freak, huh? How did that come about?”

“Well, Sharon’s been urging me to get up early and go for a walk in the morning. She said it’s a nice way to clear my head and plan my day. I think about what I have to do and try to think of any situations I might end up in that could tempt me. For the first few weeks, I didn’t even pay attention to where I was. I was just pissed off that it was seven a.m. and I was out stomping around in the snow.”

“Now
that
sounds like my girl.”

“Nope. That was the old Townsend. The new, improved Townsend has discovered that Vermont is fucking beautiful!”

“Do tell?” Hennessy prodded.

“Yeah, it’s really pretty here. Maybe you could come see me before the year’s up, huh? I think you’d really like it.”

“I hope I can, too. Now, tell me what you like about your morning walk. My curiosity’s really piqued.”

“I guess one thing I like is that it feels so good to be able to walk without being out of breath. My lungs don’t hurt anymore, and I don’t have that nasty cough that used to bother me in the morning. My sense of smell’s better, too. I can tell if it’s going to snow just from the way the air smells.”

“Mmm…that makes me so happy,” Hennessy murmured. “I know just what you mean. I can tell you how hot it’s going to be and when it’s going to rain just from smelling the air in the morning. It’s nice to get your senses back, isn’t it?”

“It is. I got some snowshoes and on the weekends I go for long walks in the woods and think of you.”

“I think of you much more than I should,” Hennessy admitted. “Every short story I write has an adorable blonde in it. My creative writing teacher actually made a comment about it the other day. We were supposed to write a story about Pre-Columbian America and Professor Ring said, ‘You’ve got your work cut out for you, Hennessy. I don’t think there were many attractive, young, blonde women in North America during this time period.’”

Townsend laughed helplessly. “Oh, damn, you must have been embarrassed!”

“I don’t care if all of Harvard University knows I’m hopelessly in love with you. As long as I’m more than five hundred miles from home, I’m a real rainbow-flag waver.”

“You’ll get comfortable with it at some point. Don’t stress about it.”

“That’s how I feel about your smoking. I’ll admit I hate smoking. It reminds me too much of my mother, and thoughts about her sometimes intrude when I’m around someone who smokes. But I don’t want you to feel you have to quit because I’ve told you to. This relationship can’t work if I’m the adult and you’re only trying to please me.”

“Oh, but I want to please you,” Townsend said in that incredibly sexy voice. “I want to please you so much that every nerve will beg for mercy.”

“Uhm…I could be wrong, but I think I was talking about smoking, and you were talking about something completely different.”

“Oh, I can make you smoke,” Townsend giggled. “But don’t worry about me. I think I’ll be all right. I smoked about ten cigarettes in a row and made myself so sick I threw up right into a snow bank. Do you know how nasty vomit looks on snow?”

“In South Carolina we throw up in the ocean, like self-respecting people.”

“Do you still love me? Even when I’m weak and give into temptation?”

“I do. More than ever. I love you, and I respect you for trying so hard to conquer your demons.”

“You were teasing about having my mother come with us, weren’t you?”

That snapped Hennessy right back into supervisor mode. She looked longingly at the guys running around on the lawn, wishing she could change places with them—just for a single day. But she was stuck. Always the adult. Always keeping track of how much booze was left in the bottle. “I will never tease about your sobriety. I’ll only come if your mother is there. And I swear, if I get there and find out you’re alone, I’ll leave. I’m not kidding.”

“I know,” she said glumly. “You never tease when I want you to.”

Two weeks later, on a bright, cool Saturday morning, Hennessy sat at a bus stop, her posture growing erect when a good-sized grey car pulled up. Before it came to complete stop, Townsend jumped out, threw her arms around Hennessy, and murmured, “God, I’ve missed you. Three months without touching you is an eternity.”

Every sense was suffused with Townsend. The feel of her slightly sturdier body, its warmth and softness making Hennessy’s head spin, her scent, always sweet and clean. The brief view Hennessy had gotten of her revealed a bright-eyed girl with a gleaming smile that could dazzle an army. But they were
not
going to carry on like this in public. And never, ever in front of Townsend’s mother!

The most Hennessy could offer was a quick kiss to the top of Townsend’s head. “Let’s get shaking. I don’t want to keep your mother waiting.”

“Great,” Townsend grumbled, stooping to pick up Hennessy’s bag. The smile was gone, replaced with a sour look that made Hennessy’s doubts about the trip start to bloom. But it was too late to back out now.

“Good morning Mrs. Bartley,” Hennessy said when she entered the car.

“Hello, Hennessy. How have you been?”

“Very well, thanks. I’m glad winter’s just about over, though. This is the first time I’ve ever been in truly cold weather, and my thin Southern blood could use a good shot of anti-freeze.”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ll be much happier on Martha’s Vineyard. We get a very brisk breeze at this time of year.”

“I’ll keep you warm,” Townsend said, adding a lascivious wink.

Hennessy’s cheeks flamed.
Damn it!
You didn’t do that kind of thing around your mother. It wasn’t proper. “I brought long underwear and a wool sweater. I’m good.” When their eyes met, Hennessy tried to convey her discomfort, but Townsend was intentionally or inadvertently ignoring the look. She took Hennessy’s hand and pointedly put it on her leg. Fighting the urge to reclaim it, Hennessy let this one go. It was going to be a very long week if they had these kinds of power struggles every two minutes.

Thankfully, the drive was a lovely one, once they got out of Boston, and Hennessy found her attention divided between listening to the Bartley women and watching the scenery. “Have you been to the shore before, Hennessy?” Mrs. Bartley asked.

“No, ma’am. Actually, I don’t leave Cambridge very often, but one of my roommates is from Brookline, and I’ve been to her home several times.”

“Well, this should be quite a change for you. I think you’ll love the sea.”

“I’m very familiar with the ocean, but the Atlantic is fairly tame where I’m from.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’re from…the South.”

“South Carolina, ma’am.”

“How forgetful of me. Now, what line of work is your father in?”

“You’ve already asked her that, Mom.” Townsend said, a definite edge to her voice. Just hearing that tone made Hennessy twitch, but Mrs. Bartley seemed very used to it.

Turning to her daughter, Miranda said, “When was that?”

Dang. It had only been three months since they’d had this conversation. Was her memory that bad? Or did she just not pay attention?

“When you took us to the airport for Christmas break.”

“That’s right,” Miranda said, a smooth smile nearly charming the memory right out of Hennessy’s head. That was a classic alcoholic trick. One her mother used to be able to pull off when she still had a lick of charm left. But Miranda didn’t have any of the other telltale signs of alcoholism, and Townsend had never indicated they shared the disease… “You’re from Charleston, right?”

“No, ma’am. Beaufort.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’ve been to Beaufort many, many times. I set one of my novels there, you know.”

“No, ma’am, I didn’t know that. I wish I had time to read for pleasure, but I’m afraid that’ll have to wait until summer.”

“Maybe you’ll have a little time this week. I have copies of all of my books at the beach house.”

Townsend was sitting in the middle seat, and she’d begun to fidget. As soon as Miranda finished her sentence, Hennessy knew an explosion was brewing. Knew it as clearly as a seismograph registered an earthquake before the shaking started. “Goddamn it, Hennessy doesn’t want to read your books. She’s just being polite!”

The silence was deafening. And embarrassing. Before Miranda could say a word, Hennessy jumped in. “I’m perfectly able to decide what I’ll read, and when I’ll read it.” Turning to Miranda, she said, “I’m not just being polite, Mrs. Bartley, I’d love to read one of your books. You can tell me which one would be best to start with.”

Townsend sank into her roomy seat, scowling like a chastised toddler. Hennessy had no earthly idea why she was so irritated, but she was absolutely certain she wouldn’t be able to stand a week of this. Hennessy scooted closer to the door, fantasizing about jumping out at a stop sign. Miranda was the only one who didn’t seem bothered by the exchange. Almost to herself, she talked about their home, when she’d bought it, how long it had taken to remodel, and all sorts of details that Hennessy didn’t understand. All the while Townsend sat in the middle, not adding a word. Hennessy hadn’t been on many vacations, but if they were all like this, she’d gladly never go on another.

Hennessy wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but even with no particular expectations, the cottage was hard for her to get her mind around. She’d known that Townsend’s mother had a lot of money, but she honestly didn’t have a good frame of reference for what substantial wealth could buy.