My Name is Nell. Laura Abbot

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      Rinsing off her plate, Nell wondered what Abby would think about Brady. Would she make more of their friendship than was there? Well, that would be her problem. She and Brady were just friends. She enjoyed his company and planned to invite him to a home-cooked meal soon. Maybe as time went on, she’d introduce him to some of her friends. To Lily and her husband Evan. Even to her mother. After all, he knew no one in Fayetteville.

      Mental telepathy was working as well as the phone service because just then her mother called. “Hi, Mom. I only have a minute. I’m on my way to my meeting and work.”

      “I won’t take much of your time. I just wondered if you enjoyed the film?”

      Suddenly the bagel became indigestible. “Film?”

      “You know, the Brad Pitt movie. Janelle Davis saw you there.” Her mother paused to heighten the impact. “With a man.”

      “I didn’t see her there.”

      “Well, she certainly saw you.”

      Nell paced to the window, noticing her flower beds needed watering. “Your point?”

      “Don’t be obtuse, Nell. Who is he?”

      “His name is Brady Logan. I met him at the library.”

      “At the library? Do you think that’s wise taking up with a stranger like that?”

      Nell sighed. “I’ve subjected him to the third degree, and he’s checked out. Besides, we’re just friends.”

      For all her second-guessing, Stella sounded disappointed at that outcome. “I’d rather hoped—”

      “Friends, Mother. He’s not looking for more and neither am I. But I have fun with him.” There. The concept of fun ought to get her attention.

      Stella made a tsking sound. “Just be careful, honey. I don’t want anything upsetting you.”

      “I’ll handle it, Mom. Thank you for your concern.” Nell had long ago learned that the prudent policy was to keep her mother as happy as possible. “I’ve got to run. Bye, now.”

      Another typical start of a day, Nell thought as she drove downtown. Between Abby and her mother, she already felt like a pinball ratcheting through a maze and it wasn’t even eight o’clock.

      At least she had one thing going for her, she found a parking spot right in front of the church. She cracked her windows, locked her car and dashed downstairs into the large meeting room just in time to grab a cup of coffee and greet her friends. When the bell in the steeple chimed the hour, Ben Hadley, an elderly gentleman with lively, sparkling eyes who had been a lifesaver for her, opened the meeting, dispensed with a few items of business and then nodded in her direction. She laid her purse on an empty folding chair and made her way to the front of the room. Several people nodded encouragingly to her, and in the back row she noticed two unfamiliar faces. This was by no means the first time she had done this, but it never became any easier. Yet, ironically, it was freeing beyond her capacity to imagine.

      She approached the speaker’s stand and gripped it for support, emboldened by waves of empathy from those in the audience.

      She moistened her lips, then uttered the words that at once condemned and redeemed her. “My name is Nell and I am an alcoholic.”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      NELL SIGHED IN RELIEF after her talk was over. Therapeutic as it was to recall the lessons of the worst times, she always carried away a residue of self-disgust and fear. Sobriety was hardly guaranteed. Instead, it was a daily reprieve. Yet as she left the church, there was a spring in her step, her mood buoyed by the hollow-eyed, yet hopeful expressions on the faces of the two newcomers at the meeting.

      Ben Hadley fell in beside her. “Nice job, Nell.”

      The quiet words of praise filled her with love for her friend, who had been through so much with so many. If anyone lived the Twelve Steps, it was Ben. His humility and selflessness were legendary. “Thank you. I don’t know why, but it was especially difficult today.”

      He kept pace with her. “Any particular reason?”

      Nell thought about his question. When she reached her car, she turned to face him. “This may sound funny, but I’m too happy. I…I’m afraid to trust it.”

      He nodded sagely, then smiled. “It’s okay to be happy. You’re worth it.” He patted her shoulder. “Have a great day.”

      She sat in the car for several moments. That was one of the hardest lessons—liking herself. Believing she was worthy of approval, acceptance, love. It was so tempting to dwell on the harm she’d done, but the danger with that line of thinking lay in one of the “cures” for negativity. Liquor. Thank God for AA, which had given her the means to face herself and others with forgiveness and love.

      Driving to work, she thought about what had made her tell Ben she was happy. She was contented with her job, her home, and, despite the normal ups and downs with Abby and her mother, her relationships. So what was different today? With unflinching honesty, she made herself utter the name. “Brady Logan.” She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed male companionship, the easy give-and-take of communication, even the sound of a deep voice in her home and the lingering scent of a fragrance decidedly masculine.

      Given his situation, friendship was all that he could offer, which suited her fine, because anything else would scare her silly. If they ever moved into intimacy… She cringed. Memory blotted out the sun and in her mind she heard Rick again, flinging his customary accusation. “Can’t you loosen up, for God’s sake? Or at least try to fake it.”

      Oh, she’d learned to fake it all right—after several glasses of numbing wine. But it hadn’t been enough to save her marriage.

      She was obviously no Clarice.

      Friend. That sounded just her speed. She hoped Brady never wanted more. If he did, he’d be disappointed. Sex was a thing of the past, and she’d learned there were worse things than doing without a man, particularly a sexually demanding, emotionally abusive one like Rick.

      She found a parking place at the library and pulled in, but remained in the car, rendered immobile by a notion that had suddenly surfaced from somewhere in her subconscious. She was kidding herself. The truth? Brady stirred her in a way she’d never experienced and it was exhilarating.

      But mostly terrifying.

      ABBY’S FIRST WORDS when Nell walked in the house early that evening rocked her. “Grandma told me about your date.”

      Slowly Nell set down her purse, fighting the tension stiffening her neck. Stella had picked up her granddaughter, and they’d spent the afternoon together. Alike as two peas in a pod, Stella and Abby watched over her with the fierceness of mother eagles. “What date?”

      Abby leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded across her chest. “She said some man took you to a movie.”

      “Some man did.”

      “Why didn’t I know about it?”

      “You were in Dallas.”

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