The Good Father. Tara Taylor Quinn

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       CHAPTER SIX

      CHLOE WAS WATCHING a British arts show on cable when Ella got home just after eight on Friday night. It had been a long day and since she had to work in the morning, she excused herself to bed before her sister-in-law got close enough to smell the wine on her breath.

      To ask any questions about where she’d been.

      She wouldn’t keep her having seen Brett a secret from Chloe. Chloe knew that Ella’s contacting her ex-husband, Jeff’s best friend, was part of the plan to help save her marriage. The main part, since nothing was going to change if Jeff didn’t get help and, so far, Jeff was still unable to admit that he needed it. Which was where Brett came in.

      If anyone could help Jeff see the truth, it would be Brett.

      And he’d agreed to speak with Jeff.

      Their plan was on track.

      The future looked hopeful.

      All of which she’d share with Chloe in the morning.

      Tonight Ella needed the privacy of her locked bedroom door and pillows to muffle her sobs as she lay herself down to sleep. She was weepy from the wine. From the emotional roller coaster that day had been—first the situation with Nora and then seeing Brett for the first time in more than four years.

      In the morning she’d be her usual cheery self. Or so she told herself as ten o’clock rolled around and she was still lying there, mind racing with memories, a nuance in a voice, a look in the eye, the warmth of a hand.

      She told herself again at one. And around two she dozed. To dream of Brett. And jerk herself awake before she could fall into a deep sleep that would only leave her disoriented when she woke. She dozed on and off for the rest of the night. And was up twenty minutes before her alarm was due to go off.

      Up, focused and fully in control.

      An uncomfortable night filled with distressing images, useless longings and long-forgotten feelings was to be expected after a first meeting in four years. Nothing more than a throwback to what had been. It wasn’t permanent. Or even part of present-day reality.

      She’d let it go. And Brett’s hold on her would let go, too.

      Each step she took forward took her further away from him. From a pain she’d never escape if she tried to hold on to even a small vestige of what she’d thought they had.

      She was wearing cartoon-character scrubs with a matching scrunchie around her ponytail, volley clogs, and a shield of calm when she walked into the kitchen to the smell of broccoli quiche at half past six.

      “Is Cody up this early?”

      Chloe’s schedule had been mirroring her son’s since they’d moved in with Ella.

      “No, and if we’re quiet, he won’t be until after you’re gone. You looked beat last night, and I wanted you to have a good breakfast and a little peace before you have to get back at it this morning.”

      That shield Ella had erected slipped. People who lived alone weren’t used to being noticed. Or spoiled.

      But she was glad she had a minute with Chloe.

      “Sit with me?” she asked as her sister-in-law dished up a divine-smelling egg-and-vegetable mixture that stimulated an appetite that had been nonexistent when Ella had left her room seconds before.

      Pouring two cups of coffee, Chloe placed one in front of Ella and sat with the other still in her hand, taking a sip.

      She had to tell Chloe about Brett. But first, “I was at The Lemonade Stand again yesterday.”

      “With a patient?”

      She couldn’t say much. And didn’t. Telling Chloe only that her visit had to do with the High Risk team, she said, “I talked to Lila while I was there. Lila McDaniels. She’s the managing director.”

      “I remember. You read me her résumé when Brett first started interviewing for positions...”

      She’d been in on the beginning stages—the dreaming. Then the dream coming true. The search for a site. The legalities and architectural plans. Even the initial weeding through of potential applicants.

      And then her world had fallen apart. Brett had filed for divorce. He’d moved out before they broke ground.

      “You remember that?”

      “Yeah. Because she had such high credentials, work history that sounded like she was an incredibly well-rounded person and no personal background at all. She had no family or anything that would interfere with the long hours, she didn’t mind spending nights at the Stand when needed, and she had the same last name as my best friend from grade school.” Chloe grinned.

      Ella had had reservations about the woman. About her lack of a three-dimensional life. She’d expressed her apprehensions to Brett. He’d obviously found her suitable in spite of Ella’s fears, and his decision to hire her had clearly turned out to be the right one.

      “Anyway, I was thinking...you know the core belief at the Stand is that women who’ve known abuse suffer from a lack of self-confidence, which makes them self-destructive, and that, if you counteract those negative influences with positive ones—actions they can feel, not just words that oftentimes go in one ear and out the other—then they’ll be better equipped to know what it feels like to value themselves.”

      Chloe put her cup down. “I value myself, El. You know that.”

      “I do.” Ella was eating while she spoke. Because she had to go soon. And because she’d had nothing for dinner but a piece of bread with cheese. “I value you, too,” she added with a grin. “This is delicious!”

      Life had a way of turning you on your end if you let it get too serious.

      Chloe shrugged. СКАЧАТЬ