could this woman waltz into Avery’s life? Faith was her mother. How could anyone try to come between them, let alone someone who’d never rubbed Vaseline onto her diaper rash, sat in the backyard examining an earthworm for most of a Saturday afternoon, spent hours carpooling a group of girls between elementary school, ballet, and riding lessons, or sat on the edge of a bed until the early-morning hours wiping tears from her face? How dare this woman try to make up for that now? Avery’s happiness, accomplishments, heartaches, celebrations, and disappointments were Faith’s—and Faith’s alone—to cherish.
She didn’t have the strength to stand so knelt on the floor amid the thin layer of dirt and clutter. How would Avery respond? Would she, like her father, be drawn to the intellect, the achievement? What if the bond was instantaneous? Would Avery dismiss the sixteen years that Faith had spent nurturing her and her brother? Was having filled the role of mother worth anything?
As she’d struggled in the past months with the chaos exploding around her, she’d taken solace in imagining times with the only remaining constant, her daughter: shopping for a prom dress; celebrating Mother’s Day with a weekend at a spa; summer dinners together at the club; decorating Avery’s new room. She’d felt confident that having that companionship for three months once school ended would be enough of a buoy to float her through the upcoming fall. Were even these simple dreams about to be destroyed?
She stood up slowly, willing herself to find the strength despite her weakened, trembling limbs. Pull yourself together, she ordered. She may not have the credentials that Dr. Reese had. She may not have her husband at her side. But she was a mother and a fierce one at that. If Foster’s death was a symbol, it was to mobilize her to protect her remaining child from such a painful revelation.
Another mother was out of the question.
8
Saturday, May 17th 4:00 p.m .
H ey there.” Even over the telephone, Archer’s voice was distinctive, not too deep with a slightly nasal quality and a melodic inflection. Just hearing it made her warm inside. “Sorry I didn’t get up with you this morning,” he said.
“That’s okay.” She smiled, remembering the sight of his long muscular body, broad shoulders, and tight buttocks as he lay on her cast-iron bed. One leg dangled over the side, and he’d managed to cover his face with a pillow to block the early-morning sun that streamed through her window. She’d kissed his back and run her fingers through the thick brown curls on the top of his head, but he hadn’t stirred.
“The reading was fantastic but I guess it wiped me out,” he said, referring to the marathon poetry fest he’d hosted the previous night. Lucy hadn’t heard his key turn in her lock, but he’d crawled into her bed just after four in the morning, snuggled up to her with his arms and legs wrapped around her, and pulled her to him. In her semisleep she remembered the softness of his skin and the faint bitter smell of Dinkel Acker beer. She’d been barely conscious of his presence when he’d whispered in her ear, “If I promised to make love to you for the next twenty-four hours would you give up a day of work?” Then he’d kissed her lobe, sending a tingle through her body.
A few hours later, she’d showered, dressed, and tended to her pet rabbit while Archer slept peacefully. Before heading out the door, she’d left his white cotton boxers folded on the chair beside her bed, coffee in a chrome carafe on the kitchen table with the newspaper beside it, and a note with a red heart drawn on it, realizing as she’d drawn it that she could get used to the idea of living with someone.
“It was the reading that tired you out, was it?” she now teased. “And here I took credit for being such a great lover.”
“And that you are. A legend in your own mind.” Archer laughed.
“How quickly the romance of last
She didn’t have the strength to stand so knelt on the floor amid the thin layer of dirt and clutter. How would Avery respond? Would she, like her father, be drawn to the intellect, the achievement? What if the bond was instantaneous? Would Avery dismiss the sixteen years that Faith had spent nurturing her and her brother? Was having filled the role of mother worth anything?
As she’d struggled in the past months with the chaos exploding around her, she’d taken solace in imagining times with the only remaining constant, her daughter: shopping for a prom dress; celebrating Mother’s Day with a weekend at a spa; summer dinners together at the club; decorating Avery’s new room. She’d felt confident that having that companionship for three months once school ended would be enough of a buoy to float her through the upcoming fall. Were even these simple dreams about to be destroyed?
She stood up slowly, willing herself to find the strength despite her weakened, trembling limbs. Pull yourself together, she ordered. She may not have the credentials that Dr. Reese had. She may not have her husband at her side. But she was a mother and a fierce one at that. If Foster’s death was a symbol, it was to mobilize her to protect her remaining child from such a painful revelation.
Another mother was out of the question.
8
Saturday, May 17th 4:00 p.m .
H ey there.” Even over the telephone, Archer’s voice was distinctive, not too deep with a slightly nasal quality and a melodic inflection. Just hearing it made her warm inside. “Sorry I didn’t get up with you this morning,” he said.
“That’s okay.” She smiled, remembering the sight of his long muscular body, broad shoulders, and tight buttocks as he lay on her cast-iron bed. One leg dangled over the side, and he’d managed to cover his face with a pillow to block the early-morning sun that streamed through her window. She’d kissed his back and run her fingers through the thick brown curls on the top of his head, but he hadn’t stirred.
“The reading was fantastic but I guess it wiped me out,” he said, referring to the marathon poetry fest he’d hosted the previous night. Lucy hadn’t heard his key turn in her lock, but he’d crawled into her bed just after four in the morning, snuggled up to her with his arms and legs wrapped around her, and pulled her to him. In her semisleep she remembered the softness of his skin and the faint bitter smell of Dinkel Acker beer. She’d been barely conscious of his presence when he’d whispered in her ear, “If I promised to make love to you for the next twenty-four hours would you give up a day of work?” Then he’d kissed her lobe, sending a tingle through her body.
A few hours later, she’d showered, dressed, and tended to her pet rabbit while Archer slept peacefully. Before heading out the door, she’d left his white cotton boxers folded on the chair beside her bed, coffee in a chrome carafe on the kitchen table with the newspaper beside it, and a note with a red heart drawn on it, realizing as she’d drawn it that she could get used to the idea of living with someone.
“It was the reading that tired you out, was it?” she now teased. “And here I took credit for being such a great lover.”
“And that you are. A legend in your own mind.” Archer laughed.
“How quickly the romance of last
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