Starting Over

Chapter 7

Chapter 7Janet sat at the kitchen island with her laptop open, going over image files of her trip to Yosemite as the morning radio show played in the background. She'd just had another restless night with hardly any sleep. For the last few months the media and the military brass were a constant presence in their lives. She was tired of it. Yes, she was proud of Nate; proud he was being recognized and honored. But lately it was feeling more like a photo opportunity for the Washington D.C. elites and local bigwigs. It was an election year after all.

She closed out of Photoshop, and tapped her pencil on the countertop. She was fairly satisfied with the results of her shoot. Out of two hundred and thirty-four shots she'd taken, thirty of them showed promise for the photo-shoot she'd take in mid-February. That was, providing Nate went with her. Otherwise, it could wait. One of the perks of being an Ansel Adams award winning photographer was having latitude with clients. Of course it had its limitations. She jotted down a few notes and sat back, sipping her coffee. As she considered her plan of attack for the shoot, Megan shuffled into the room. With her shoulder length hair askew and wearing sweats, the woman looked like she'd been dragged through a knothole.

“Morning,” Janet said with a lilt in her voice.

For the last five weeks, Megan and her boyfriend, Ben, had been driving the forty-five mile jaunt back and forth between Woodburn and her home in the Heights. They were like teenagers, constantly needing to be together. With each date, the witching hour for Megan getting home got increasingly later.

Megan waved as she went to the cupboard.

Janet eyed her while the woman grabbed a mug down from the cupboard. “Late night, huh?” When Megan nodded, she added, “Why don't you just stay the night with him? Save yourself the drive home.”

Megan turned and looked at her sideways. “I've thought about it, but I'm not ready for that yet.”

Janet smirked because she firmly believed they were spending time between the sheets. “So, you're not sleeping with him?”

A smile danced across Megan's face. “Let's just say, not in the traditional sense.” She nibbled her lip. “I never thought I'd say this again, but I think I'm falling in love. He's so great. Lets me be me, you know.”

Janet went over and hugged her. It was good to see her best friend happy. For the first time in two years, Meg was coming out of her shell. It probably meant she'd soon be moving on, but Janet couldn't complain.

“You think I'm going too fast?” Megan said, drawing back. “I mean, I've only been seeing him for a couple months.”

“What I think doesn't matter,” Janet said. “The only thing that matters is what you think. If you think you're going too fast, slow down.”

“I know, but every time I leave him, all I can think about is the next time we're together. It's driving me crazy.”

“Not to mention running you into the ground.” She patted Megan on the shoulder. “Keep your eyes open and listen to your heart. If you love him, it won't lead you wrong.”

“It led me wrong once,” Megan said, knitting her brow.

“You were a kid then, Meg. You're a grown woman now. You know the flags to look for.”

“Well, so far there haven't been any,” Megan conceded. “Were there any with you and Dad?

“Nothing major, other than him being so much older,” Janet said. “Seriously though, it was mostly me learning to trust.”

“For me, it's learning to trust again,” Megan said with an edge in her voice. She paused then brightened. “By the way, Don called the other day while you were out. You gonna return his calls or not? You know, if I were a betting gal, I'd say he's sweet on you.”

Janet went back to her chair. “Is that what you think?”

Megan took her mug back up, sipped her coffee and cracked a smile. “You could do worse.”

Janet groaned. “You know, there's nothing worse than a woman in love, believing she has to fix up the whole world.”

“Just saying. He's not hard to look at.”

“Right now, Quasimodo wouldn't look half bad to you. But he's way too young.”

“Right,” Megan said. She grinned. “Says the woman who married my father.”

“Don't you have some place to be?”

Once Megan was out of the house, Janet sequestered herself in her office and dialed Don. As the phone rang on the other end, she felt her stomach knot. She really didn't want to have this conversation, but it was necessary. It was time to set things in order between them. On the fifth ring, he picked up.

“Janet. I was beginning to wonder if you were avoiding me,” he said with a chipper voice.

“Just been busy is all. What's up,” she replied then realized her tone was clipped.

“Well,” he said, “you never got back to me about dinner. I have some ideas I want to get in front of you about your books.”

She took a deep breath. “My son's back from Iraq and needs me. I don't have time right now to meet.”

Silence rang on the other end. Finally Don said, “Janet, I know you're going through things, but I have a lot invested in you. I think you could at least give back a little here.”

“I can appreciate that, but my son comes first,” she said, hardening her tone.

There was a long pause. “Okay, and how long will that take? I have a lot riding on things. I can't wait forever.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, if you're not interested in giving me a reasonable date and meeting me half way, then I'll call it a day and you can go somewhere else. Of course, I'll be needing the advance back I gave you …with interest. As for your books, the contracts still hold. And I do believe, if I remember correctly, I have a legal interest in the book you're working on right now.”

She bristled. “I don't think so.”

“Oh, I would look at the contract if I were you. The way it's written it clearly states you can't go to print with anyone but me until the provisionary contract expires. Simply put, I own the intellectual rights for the book you're working on.”

There it was, right out in the open: the one thing that really mattered: intellectual rights. He had her by the throat. She couldn't care less about the money, but his controlling her creative works was more than she could bear. How could she have been so stupid to sign a provisional contract for her work in progress? She gritted her teeth as her gut tightened. “So you're holding my work hostage?”

“I prefer to think of it as protecting my interests.”

“I want my rights back, all of them.”

“And you'll get them, once the contract is up. Look, this is a lose-lose situation for both of us. All I ask is that you devote some time and effort to this. I don't think it's too much to ask.”

She tapped her nails on the old Pilgrim desk that had once been her husband's.

“Janet, you still there?”

“Yeah, I'm here,” she said.

“Well, am I asking too much?”

“I suppose not, but like I said, my son's needs come first.”

“There you go, then,” he said. “So, can you come to Portland, say next week?”

She dragged her day-planner off the shelf. Flipping it open, she said, “I have the afternoon of December 29th and the morning of the 30th open right now…providing…”

“Yes, I know, your son's needs.” He paused. Okay, the 29th works for me. How's eleven o'clock?”

“Penciling you in as we speak.”

“Great … In the meantime, give some thought to bringing some creative ideas to the table. I hear the guild wants you to do a presentation. You know, you still have a voice out there. People want to see you, hear you talk about your work. Set up a few book signings and maybe a couple radio interviews.”

But she hardly heard a word as the door beside her swung open. Nate came in and sat. She put her finger up and whispered she was almost done then went back to Don. “What? Oh, yeah…fine. We'll talk about it when I come up.”

“That's better. Believe me, you won't regret it.”

What did I just agree to? she thought as she ended the call. She smiled. “What's up, sweetie?”

He bent forward and put his hands on his knees. Eyeing her with a measured look, he set her on edge. “I was just surfing the web and I found a place I wanna check out. I called and they can show it to me at two. Mind driving me over so I can get a look at it?”

She felt her breath catch. This was too soon. He just got home. She forced a smile as her mind spun like a whirling top. “Sure.”

For a moment, he stared at her as if he was unsure he'd heard her right. Finally, he said, “Umm…thanks.”

“You're welcome.” She got up and patted his shoulder, struggling to keep her fears and wants to herself. There were a million reasons she could think of for him to stay put but in the end she knew it'd be a losing battle. The last thing she wanted was to drive him further away. “I'll be ready whenever you are.”

The sound of Nate stirring in his room woke Janet from a restless sleep. She pushed back the snarl of covers, wanting to forget yesterday. Pretend her son hadn't found an apartment. That she hadn't told him she'd buy him a car. The thought of him on his own so soon after she'd just gotten him back left her feeling tight and heavy. But there was nothing she could do about it. He was determined and once he got something in his head there was no persuading him otherwise. She stared off into the ever-brightening dawn sky, wanting to get off this emotional rollercoaster she'd been on since he came home.

Glancing at the LED alarm clock, she saw 6:15 AM blinking back. Sleeping in, as Nate would call it! His physical therapy appointment at the VA wasn't for three hours. More than enough time to get around. She rolled out of bed, stepped into her slippers and threw her bathrobe on. Cinching the belt around the black and white flannel robe, she went and let Cleo out of his crate. Out in the hallway, she heard a door shut. A moment later, the murmuring of a shower being turned on drifted through the crack of her bedroom door. She straightened the covers on her bed and headed for the kitchen.

As usual Nate had made coffee. She took a mug down from the cupboard and poured herself a cup. On the breakfast bar, the morning paper was open to the sports page. She leafed through the pages, took the local news section out and brought it the kitchen table. As she perused the opinion page, her phone rang.

Trevor's name was on the screen.

“Hope I didn't wake you.”

She sat back. “No, Nate has PT this morning.”

“You all right?”

“Umm…yeah, yeah, I'm fine,” she said, realizing her tone was far from cheerful.

“You don't sound it. You sure?”

She looked out the sliding glass doors wondering if she should say anything about Nate's finding an apartment. She really didn't want to dwell on it, but she needed a sympathetic ear. When it came to having someone listen without trying to fix things, Trevor was her go-to person. Finally, she said, “Nate's moving out next month. I'm not ready for this Trev. He just got home. You don't think I'm mothering him too much, do you?”

“Well, you haven't seen him but a handful of times in the last five years. And let's not forget, a mother always worries about her babies.”

She smiled. “Thanks. You always know the right things to say.”

“I've been trained by the best.”

“Nadia's been good for you,” she said, knowing very well who he was referring to. “How is she, anyway?”

“She's good.” He paused. “Speaking of which, she found something buried in the backyard you need to see.”

She sat forward. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he said with an air of caution in his tone. “She's been re-landscaping the backyard. Planting bulbs for next spring. Anyway, can you and Nate shoot by later this week? Her sauerbraten's on the menu.”

“Oh, really? Well, I suppose I could manage it. So…what's this thing I need to see,” she said as the shower shut off in the bathroom down the hall.

“Better see for yourself,” he said.

“Hmm…Okay, Mr. Secretive. How's Friday work, say around five?”

“Friday works fine, and bring your appetites.”

Janet followed Nate into the VA clinic and took the elevator up to the second floor. They were early, but being on time was who she was, unlike Megan who got there when she got there. As Nate signed in, Andy came in behind them.

“Morning,” he said, taking his jacket off.

“Morning yourself,” she replied, slipping off her coat and draping it over the back of a Waiting Room chair. “Chilly one out there this morning.”

“Yes, it is,” he said. He turned to Nate. “You ready for some hard work?”

“Let's get at it,” Nate said

She watched her son follow Andy into the therapy room. After the door shut behind them, she dug through a pile of tattered TIME magazines. Settling on the November issue with Barack Obama on the cover, she leafed through it to an article on whether the black president could heal the racial divide in the country. Half way through it, the double doors to the Therapy Room opened. Looking up, she saw Andy heading her way with a water bottle in hand.

“You have a minute?”

She set the magazine down as he came up beside her. “Sure.”

“I thought I'd take a moment to say more than just, 'Hi'. Your son is quite a determined young man.” He took a swig of water, capped the bottle and sat.

“Yes, he is.” She caught a faint scent of cedar wood cologne. She quite liked it. “Takes after his father.”

“He told me a little bit about him. Sorry for your loss,” he said, turning toward her.

She managed a meager smile. “Well, it's been a while.”

He nodded and an awkward silence passed between them. Finally he said, “So, how are you doing with Nate's transition home?”

How thoughtful. “It's a little trying at times, but we're getting along okay,” she said, crossing her leg over her knee. “He tells me you served in Viet Nam.”

“I did. It was near the end of the war,” he said. “Why?”

“Well, I was just wondering, you being a Vet, maybe you have insights, things I should know to help my son.”

He shrugged. “I don't know how insightful I am, other than to tell you not to rush things.” He uncapped his water bottle, took a sip and looked at her hard. Finally, he said, “Coming home is never easy. Each of us has our own demons and we deal with them in different ways. For some, it's about control: orders and repetition. Organization in the chaos where you never know from one day to the next if it's going to be your last. For others, it's hiding, wanting to forget. And sometimes it's about hating what you've become, because you realize you're capable of doing the most heinous things when you're scared to death.” He paused, seemingly waiting to see if she had something to say. When she didn't, he went on. “It took me a long time to open up and talk to someone after I came home. It's not easy.”

She considered his response. Knew what he was hinting at. But Nate wasn't his son so he couldn't know the anguish of a parent being held at arm's length. She'd asked the question though, so she gave him a pass. “I remember my brother when he came home. I was a senior in high school at the time. He was distant. Later on, he told me how the last few weeks were the hardest. The wondering if he was gonna end up in a body bag when he was so close to coming home. I can't imagine what it must've felt like.”

He nodded. “Pretty damned scary.”

“I couldn't understand what my parents were going through until now. It had to have been nerve racking for yours as well.”

He looked off. For a moment she wondered if she'd said something wrong. Finally, he turned back. “Well, I made it back, and that's all that mattered.” He was quiet a moment then leaned forward. “So, umm…your son told me he found an apartment.”

“Yes…yes, he did.”

“You okay? You don't look happy about it.”

“Oh, I'm fine,” she replied, trying to switch gears. “It's that he just got home, say nothing of being injured.” She folded her hands in her lap. “You think that's a good idea, him moving to an apartment?”

“Hard to say,” he said. “He's looking to regain his independence. On the other hand, he needs to understand his limitations.”

She nodded. “That's what worries me. He's very focused as you're probably finding out.”

“That he is. Then again, the Army has a way of focusing you.” He smiled and looked at her like Neil used to, really seeing her. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at her like this and she found herself basking in it. She leaned his way and eyed him companionably, wanting to know more about him.

“So, what branch were you in?” She started with things Nate had already told her which would lead to other things.

“Marines, Semper Fi…ooh-rah.” He pushed his shoulders back into the upholstered chair, popped his foot up and rested his ankle over his knee.

“And, after you got out?”

He uncapped the bottle and took another swig. “I became a firefighter and eventually a paramedic.”

“Wow. So, you retired and opened a book store?”

“Something like that.” He shifted in his seat, averting his gaze as he flipped the bottle cap over and over in his hand. All at once he got up. “Well, I've got to be getting back in there.”

She was taken aback. Had she said something wrong? She looked up. Saw sadness looming behind the smile. What it meant, she didn't know; only that she needed to know where it came from. “Oh. Okay,” she said, wishing for something more to say. Something to keep them connected. The only thing that came though was what Nate had told her in the car coming home from Yosemite. “Umm…before you go, where's your bookstore? If I'm in the area, I'd like to stop in.”

“It's on Trade Street. McNamara's. Can't miss it. Big green canopy out front. If you stop in, be sure to ask for me. I'll treat you to one of my sister's chocolate chip scones. They're out of this world.”

As he walked away, her breath quickened. What was going on? Why was her body stirring? She reminded herself she was here for her son so she forced it out of her mind…sort of.