Small-Town Girl

Julie didn’t know the answers. Not to these questions, or any of the hundred others she’d had since Ben’s accident. The doctors were no help. They’d adopted a “wait and see” attitude that drove her nuts.

She’d waited too long already, damn it! Hadn’t Ben suffered enough—hadn’t they all?

Despite the hours and hours at therapy, Ben’s speech was still slow—he had to search for the words that had once spilled out of his mouth like the froth from a shaken soda can. His balance was shaky; his memory, unreliable. Worst of all were the headaches and his frustrated anger.

“It’ll be okay, Ben,” she promised her son every night, but as the days passed into weeks and months, she’d begun to feel like a liar. Ben wasn’t okay, at least not yet.

She’d memorized the chapter on traumatic head injury in the book she’d bought on brain disorders, as well as every word Dr. Assad had ever spoken to them. Her acquired knowledge offered as much cause for worry as for hope.

Every brain injury was unique. Outcomes were unpredictable. So far they’d been lucky. Ben had emerged from the coma. That was the biggie, wasn’t it? She tried to be grateful, but it was hard.

If only…

Biting her lip, Julie opened a cupboard door at random and began to clean.

“SALAD?” JULIE ASKED rhetorically as she passed the crystal bowl from her husband to her son. Ben, using the silver tongs awkwardly, portioned some of the greens onto his side plate.

Once the highlight of Julie’s day, the dinner hour at home had turned into an ordeal—and not just for her. Ben sat quiet and withdrawn—usual for him since the accident. His hair, so like his father’s, had grown to cover most of the scar tissue on his forehead. While he’d regained some weight in the past month, he remained five pounds lighter than before the accident in April, and Julie struggled not to urge him to eat more.

All three of them had lost weight. Her waistbands were loose and Russell had dropped at least ten pounds. Naturally thin, now he appeared almost gaunt.

Of all of them, he made the most effort to keep dinner pleasant, filling the conversation that had once been centered on Ben’s school day and recess antics with stories about the university.

“Can’t say I’m sorry there are only two weeks left in the summer session,” he said. “This has to be the most boring batch of students I’ve ever had. Even Weasel has been quiet lately.”

“Didn’t beg for any extra marks in last week’s assignment?” Julie asked.

“Surprisingly, no. Though maybe he considered himself fortunate I’d been as generous as I was. He should have been, anyway.”

Ben stabbed at his plate with his fork until he speared a piece of chicken. If he was paying attention to any of this, it wasn’t noticeable.

Russell sighed and his forehead creased. Julie had seen a lot of that frown lately. Probably she sported one on her brow, too. Struggling to smile, she tried to tell a story about an aborted photo shoot at a new home furnishings store on Robson Street, but the story fizzled halfway through.

“Anyway, it was quite a mess. But I guess you had to be there.” She forked a piece of lettuce, then another and another.

“Can I be excused?” Ben asked. He pushed back from the table. In the past, he’d spent most evenings playing with Lego or reading with her and Russell in the living room. Lately he preferred to blockade himself in his bedroom.

Julie set aside her plate, fighting an urge to hurl it at the kitchen window. Everything had been so perfect before the accident. Why did it have to happen? They were good people. They didn’t deserve…

Hell. She forced her mind to go blank. That kind of thinking got her nowhere. And she knew it.

The accident was reality. Ben’s injury was reality, too. Now, deal with it, Julie. You’re the mother here. So why couldn’t she say the right things, do the right things, to make this family whole again?

“I’ve been thinking, Julie.”

She’d almost forgotten Russell was still in the room. “Yes?”

“This family needs a change.”

Caution made her reply slowly. “What do you mean?”

When her husband didn’t answer right away, she kept going. “If you’re suggesting a holiday, I’d been wondering if we might squeeze in a week at Saltspring before school starts now that Ben’s therapy is finished. Any chance you could get away?” She knew he was already busy preparing for the fall session.

Russell drummed his fingers on the table. He was an academic, but he had hands that looked as though they could actually do something. Tighten a valve, unclog a sink, change the oil in a car.

“We always go to Saltspring,” he said.

Well, of course. They had a cottage on the ocean. Why wouldn’t they go to Saltspring? “What kind of holiday did you have in mind?”

“I wasn’t thinking of a holiday. I’m proposing a real change—something permanent.”

Oh, no. She didn’t like the sound of this. What she needed—what they all needed—was a return to normal. Not change. Especially not permanent change.

Watching Russell, she experienced the disorienting sensation of observing a stranger. She had absolutely no idea what he was thinking right now. When was the last time they’d talked—really talked—about something other than Ben?

Actually, they didn’t even talk about Ben anymore. She hated seeing the strain on her husband’s face when she admitted her deepest fears. So she did her best to keep them to herself. If Russell had any anxieties of his own, she never heard them. Maybe he was protecting her? Or maybe his ingrained optimism protected him from imagining the worst. Nothing got Russell down. Apparently not even the near death of his son.

She struggled to keep resentment out of her voice. “Sounds like you have something specific in mind.”

“I do. I think we need to move.”

She froze, certain she couldn’t have heard correctly. “Russell?”

“I know how much you love this house. And you’ve done a beautiful job with it. But we’re in a rut.”

“Russell, this house is perfect—and I’m not talking about the bloody furniture or the color on the walls, for heaven’s sake.”

“But—”

“We’re close to Ben’s school, and his friends…. And what about the ten thousand we just spent on landscaping?”

She considered Russell’s long commute to work. “Do you want to move closer to the university, is that it?”

“No. Farther. Much farther.” Russell cleared his plate and Ben’s from the table. Hunching his lean, large-boned frame over the sink, he rinsed them for the dishwasher.

Julie sat, waiting for him to tell her exactly what he had in mind. Finally, he returned to the table. Gripping the back of his chair, he took a fortifying breath.

“This may seem like it’s coming out of the blue, but I’ve been tossing around the idea for years now. Ben’s accident is only the catalyst.”

Cold dread pinned Julie to her chair. Years, Russell had said. And yet until this moment, he’d never even hinted he wasn’t happy living here.

“I’d like us to move back to Chatsworth.”

Her nervous tension snapped on a burst of surprise, then outrage. “You can’t be serious.”

Russell had been born and raised in Chatsworth, Saskatchewan. The small prairie town was lucky to boast five hundred citizens at most. Usually Russell and Ben went by themselves to visit Russell’s parents, but Julie had tagged along often enough to know exactly what life in that small town would offer her and her son.

Nothing.

Russell couldn’t be serious.

“If you and Ben want to go visit your folks, that would be fine with me.”

“I’m not talking about a visit.” Russell pushed away from his chair and strode to the window. “I know I should have discussed this with you, but…I’ve—I’ve tendered my resignation at the university.”

“You’ve quit?” If he’d slapped her on the face, she couldn’t have been more stunned.

“Our family needs something different, Julie. Something slow paced and more meaningful. This city is sucking it out of us.”

“Sucking what out of us?” He wasn’t making any sense. Vancouver was one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Russell had worked hard to become a full professor at UBC. And her job at West Coast Homes was a dream come true for her.

“The happiness, the spontaneity, the…the joy.”

This was too much. She got out of her chair and gave it a hard shove over the tile floor. Then she advanced on Russell, her voice angry but very quiet. “How the hell are we supposed to be feeling any joy right now? Our son was in a coma for five days. He almost died.”

“Well, thanks for the news flash. Now here’s an update for you. Our son is alive. But did you see his face at the dinner table tonight? He’s floundering, Julie. We’ve got to save him.”

She covered her mouth. Yes, poor Ben was floundering. Trust the English professor to come up with just the perfect word.

“And you think moving to Chatsworth is going to help?” She knew she sounded scornful, but how couldn’t she? Russell’s idea was preposterous.

“I do. And so do my parents.”

Oh, no. Now he was dragging in Betty and Larry Matthew, two of the very biggest reasons she’d rather move to the Arctic Circle than to Chatsworth, Saskatchewan.

“You’ve talked to your parents about this?”

“Actually, they brought up the idea. Apparently the woman who used to teach grade five at the elementary school is moving—her husband wants to go to law school in Saskatoon. They’ve put their house up for sale. It’s small, but it’s lakefront, and it’s only blocks from the school.”

This was sinking in. Russell had quit his job. He’d found a new job, a new house. “You mean this. You really want to move to Chatsworth.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “I know I’m asking a lot of you, Julie. I realize you love your career…but this way you could afford to stay home for a while.”

She’d never wanted to stay home. When they’d discussed having Ben they’d both agreed on a nanny for the first five years, then day care once he started school full-time. “What about the cottage?”

“We can keep the place in Saltspring. Come back for holidays.”

But this wasn’t how their life was supposed to be! They’d planned everything before they’d married. Worked out every detail. And in ten years it had come together for them. They had it all, exactly what they’d wanted.

“We need to enjoy each other more. Family has to be our focus now, Julie.”

And it wasn’t before?

In her stomach, she felt the familiar burning of guilt. If only… Were there any more bitter words in the English language?

She wanted her life back, exactly as it had been. But maybe she didn’t deserve that. She knew Russell didn’t blame her for Ben’s accident. Such a thing would never even occur to him.

But maybe it should. It had to her.

And Ben? Did he blame her, too? Julie couldn’t answer that one. Because Ben suffered from retrograde amnesia. Their son couldn’t remember anything that had happened the day of the accident. Probably he never would.

CHAPTER THREE

LYING ON HIS SIDE of the king-size bed with Julie at least a foot away, Russell recalled the last time he’d made love to his wife. The Friday before Ben’s accident.

The April night had been warm and Ben had had plans to camp out in Jeff’s backyard. With a rare evening to themselves, he and Julie had strolled down to the ocean and back, then he’d made pasta and they’d shared a bottle of wine out on their new deck.

Later, in the dark, he’d brought out an old quilt and spread it along the portion of the deck screened by lattice and honeysuckle.

“Russell…?” He’d loved the way she’d said his name, softening and smoothing the two syllables with her English accent. Her speaking voice was the first thing he’d fallen in love with.

“Come here.” He’d kissed her and slowly seduced her out of all her clothing.

“What if…”

He’d silenced her nervousness with another kiss. “No one can see us.”

In the moonlight, Julie’s skin had glowed. She had the proverbial peaches-and-cream English complexion. Hair color that she termed “dirty blond” and he considered “honey.” Long limbs and a slender waist—

Russell forced himself to stop remembering and stifled a groan. Why torture himself with old memories, when the flesh-and-blood woman lay at his side?

Shifting to his left, he tried to gauge whether Julie slept. Her back to him, she remained perfectly still, her breathing too quiet for him to hear. He watched for several minutes, hoping she would roll over, throw out an arm, give him some opening that would allow him to slide closer to her.

She didn’t move.

The digital alarm clock on Julie’s night table soldiered on. Eleven-fifteen became eleven-thirty. Finally, Russell sighed and shifted to his back, arms folded behind his head.

“Still awake?”

Russell flipped back to his left side. “Oh, yeah.”

She faced him now, covers drawn to her chin. “Did you really quit the university?”

She wanted to talk. Well, what had he expected? Their conversation earlier that evening hadn’t been exactly conducive to romance.

“I really did.”

“You didn’t think we should—oh, never mind.” She brushed her hair back from her face. In the dim glow from the streetlights outside he could see her arch her clearly defined, elegant eyebrows.

“What if I don’t want to move to Chatsworth? What if I refuse?”

“I don’t know.” This idea of his had seemed so obviously the right thing to do for his family he’d almost convinced himself Julie wouldn’t object. He’d been kidding himself, of course. He knew how she felt about small towns, especially the one he’d grown up in.

“I don’t think you’re being very fair to me,” Julie added.

“Maybe not,” he conceded. “But I wish you’d at least consider the idea.”

She propped her head up on her hand. “You haven’t given me much choice. You’ve already quit your job.”

“Yes.” He should have told Julie first. But nothing she could have said would have changed his mind. He wanted more time with his son. “Since the day Ben was born, he’s fit into our lives so smoothly. Aside from those few months at the beginning—” they’d each taken two months off from work “—we’ve barely had to adjust our lifestyle to accommodate him.

“Look at us. We both have jobs we love. Ben’s been in before-and-after-school care right from the start. You still run three times a week. I play squash—”

“We’re not the only working parents in the world. And isn’t it healthy for us to have interests outside the house?”

“That’s not the point.” He flung off his covers, suddenly hot. “Ben hasn’t asked much of us. He’s been a great kid, a happy kid. But now he needs us. Now—for a few years, at least—it’s time for him to be the focus.”

“And he isn’t now?”

“We’ve put our lives on hold since the accident. And yes, we’ve devoted most of our energy to him. But already we’re starting to slip back into our routines….”

“Don’t you want that? Isn’t that exactly what Ben needs?”

Russell could see how badly Julie longed for him to agree. He wished he could make her happy and do it. “But Ben can’t go back to being the boy he used to be. Not yet, anyway.”

Julie dropped her head into her hands. Russell tried to draw her to him, but she resisted.

“Have you thought about what school is going to be like for him? He won’t be top of the class anymore. He doesn’t even have the stamina to play soccer with his buddies. He’s going to feel like an outsider.”

“And he won’t be an outsider in Chatsworth?”

“He’ll be the new kid. There’s a difference. Plus he’ll have more family.” This was a delicate point. Russell was aware of the tension between his mother and his wife. He had no clue why two such wonderful women couldn’t get along. He didn’t dare say this out loud, but he was certain that if only they spent more time together, they’d come around.

“There’s my side of the family, too.”

Russell hardly knew her parents or sister; they’d moved back to London before Ben was born. “Are you suggesting we consider relocating to England?”

“Of course not. It’s just…” She buried her head in her hands again. He wondered if she was crying. But when she finally faced him, her eyes were dry.

“What if Ben doesn’t want to move to Chatsworth?”

With that question, Russell knew his plan stood a chance.

“Let’s ask him in the morning.”

JULIE WAITED UNTIL RUSSELL fell asleep. Then she slid out of bed and crept down the hall, past their home office, to Ben’s room.

After the accident, she’d moved an easy chair in here. The first few nights she and Russell had taken turns watching him. Finally Ben had insisted that they stop.

“I’m fine. You guys worry too much.”

He always said he was fine, even when it was obvious that he wasn’t. Getting him to take his medication to prevent seizures was often a struggle.

Julie hovered over her son, listening for the comforting rhythm of his breathing. She touched his hair; his curls were so much softer than Russell’s. Her hand trailed over his cheek, then up to his forehead, to the patch of pink, scarred skin.

What did the future hold for Ben? He’d come into this world so perfect. She remembered marveling at every wonderful detail, from his ten lovely toes, to his thick cap of hair. He wasn’t perfect anymore. Certainly not on the outside. And on the inside—no one could say. Just because Ben’s EEGs were normal now was no guarantee…

She’d been allotted a beautiful, flawless son. And under her care he’d been hurt so badly he’d almost died.

Maybe Russell was right. Maybe their city lifestyle was no longer the best for Ben. One thing she couldn’t argue with: if she’d put Ben first on that thirtieth day of April, none of this would have happened. Her son would still be whole and sound and happy.

Why hadn’t she appreciated her good fortune when she’d had it? Why hadn’t she realized that a smart, happy, healthy little boy wasn’t just normal—he was a miracle. She’d taken the biggest blessing in her life for granted. And Ben had paid the price.

Moving to Chatsworth could be her atonement she decided. If she gave up the life that she loved—her job, her friends, her house—maybe Ben would regain all that he’d lost.

Of course, real life didn’t work that way. But maybe Russell was right. Maybe Chatsworth really would be better for Ben.

Could she stand to move there? Julie brushed a kiss on Ben’s forehead, then sighed. If her son did indeed want to move, she knew she’d have no choice. She’d go.

“BEN? YOUR MOTHER AND I were talking about something last night. We’d like to know what you think.”

“Yeah?” Ben paused in the middle of trying to remove a section of his grapefruit.

His movements were so awkward it hurt Julie to watch. She ached to take the spoon from his hand and feed him. But Ben struggling through tasks like this was supposed to help him get better.

“This is just an idea, you understand,” Russell continued. “If you don’t like it, then fine. We’ll forget about it.”

“What, Dad?”

Julie wanted to cover her ears. Once the offer was made to Ben, there would be no turning back.

“We’re thinking of moving. To Chatsworth. Where your grandma and grandpa live.”

“Yeah?” Ben’s eyes rounded. “Would we live in the same house?”

“No.” Julie hated how sharp that had sounded. She took a deep breath. “Actually, your father has heard of a house for sale farther down the street.”

“Is it by the lake?”

“You bet,” Russell said.

“Cool. Could we go canoeing and fishing and stuff?”

Russell laughed. “Exactly.”

Julie pictured, in that instant, exactly the life Russell wanted for them. Apple pie and roast chicken on Sundays. Long afternoons watching baseball at the diamonds by the lake. Sitting out on the veranda in the evenings, gabbing with passing neighbors.

It was a lovely life, she supposed, a dream life for many.

But it wasn’t the life she wanted. Not everyone suited small-town living. She’d grown up in London. To her, Vancouver was already small enough.

Yet, listen to Ben.

“We could visit Grandma and Grandpa all the time, right? And could I bring my bike? And what about a dog, Dad? Last time we went to visit Grandma she said every boy needed a dog….”

He sounded so excited. She hadn’t seen him speak this quickly or look as animated since…

Since. Everything was “since” now.

“I don’t know about the dog, Ben. We’ll have to ask your mother.”

Her fate was sealed. She grabbed the handle of her coffee cup, then let it go, afraid the porcelain would snap. Her wonderful job. Her friends, the theater, lovely shopping…the coffee shop she stopped at every morning. All part of her past now.

“We can get a dog,” she said through tight, dry lips.

Russell looked even more surprised than Ben. “We can?”

She felt a sudden, scary urge to laugh. “Why not? A dog, a cat—what does it matter?”

“A cat, too?” Ben’s smile widened. “Awesome! Gee, Mom, can we get a hamster and a—”

“Julie?”

She perceived the concern in Russell’s voice, but right now, she couldn’t deal with anything more. After stacking two breakfast plates, she turned her back on her family and escaped to the sink. From the table, she heard Russell say to Ben, “No hamster, son. Or guinea pig. Or lizards or snakes.”

He went through the list of pets Ben had wanted at one time or another. Just to make sure, he added, “A dog and a cat. Nothing else.”

“Cool.”

Hearing that word, Julie felt like crying. Ben sounded so happy. She glanced over her shoulder at Russell. He was gazing at his son, smiling fondly.

Seeing Ben cheerful and excited again should have been a lovely moment for her, too.

But she couldn’t help worrying that the repercussions of this move might be far greater than any of them could guess.

THEIR HOUSE SOLD QUICKLY, amid a flurry of interest from two different buyers. After signing the papers, Julie could tell Russell felt like celebrating.

She wanted to mourn. Even if they decided after a few months or a year that Chatsworth wasn’t the right place for them, there would be no coming back. Little gems like this house were rare in West Van. Most homes sold for much, much more.

“Some wine, Julie?” He’d just opened a bottle from the case of cabernet merlot they’d purchased in March.

She swiped a damp rag over the window ledge, watching as he poured two glasses full.

“I never thought we’d get our asking price. After paying off the mortgage we’ll have enough money for three, maybe four houses in Saskatchewan.”

“Yes, well, considering I don’t even want one, that’s not particularly good news, is it?”

Russell’s face fell, and she regretted being churlish.

“Sorry. Everything’s happening so quickly. That’s all.” She took a sip of the wine, thinking to cushion the shock of having sold her home to the highest bidder.

“Did you give your notice yesterday?” He sat on a stool, leaning over the granite countertop.

She started to polish the faucet. “I told Suzanne about our plans to move.” The managing editor had been flatteringly disappointed.

Russell stopped swirling the wine in his glass. He looked at her carefully. “Did you give your notice?”

“I tried, but Suzanne wouldn’t accept it. She asked if I would work freelance from Chatsworth. Do some editing, take on a new column.”

“Oh.” Russell thought about that for a minute. “It never occurred to me you could continue to work from Chatsworth. But why not? Are you going to give it a try?”

“I’d like to. We will have an Internet connection?”

“They do have telephones,” he pointed out.

“Naturally. Well, yes, I’d like to give it a shot. I may have to fly to Vancouver occasionally, for meetings and such.”