One Step Away (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 1) (30 page)

The self-fulfilling prophecy had come to
fruition; she’d transformed into her mother. Ashamed of herself for
lacking the strength to restrain Jaclyn’s cold-hearted personality
from penetrating her psyche, Marisa started shaking. She’d never
felt so worthless, so alone.

“Hey,” Alex said, approaching her. “You’re
not her.” He moved in and wrapped his arms around her. “Your mother
is weak. She acts that way because she lacks compassion. And you’re
a successful, loving, strong-willed woman. You’re nothing like
her.” He pulled back to meet her eyes and placed both palms against
her tear-streaked cheeks. “Do you hear me?”

Marisa wanted to believe him, wanted to
trust him. But how could she after he’d tricked her? Or had he? She
shook her head, pulling away from him. Feeling him holding tight,
she pushed and shoved until she broke away from his embrace and
headed for the door.

“Last Christmas,” Alex said, “who bought me
Blackhawks tickets? Would your mother have done that?”

In the middle of the room, she stopped,
eager to hear words to convince her that she and Jaclyn were
nothing alike.

“Last year, when Lance went to Hawaii for
two weeks: who did he ask to take care of his two Beagles? You
didn’t know anything about dogs, but you read up about it, just so
you’d treat them right. Would your mother have done that?”

The Beagles were a handful. The puppies were
balls of energy and tested her patience, but she ended up enjoying
their company. And when her boss returned from vacation, she
reluctantly parted with them and felt lonely at home for more than
a month afterwards. She considered getting a dog, but she feared
that her mother’s temperament would one day inhabit her body, and
she would mistreat the canine.

“When we first met, you introduced me to
everyone on staff to make me feel comfortable. You made me feel
like part of the team. You made me feel… special. And you’ve made
me feel special every day that I’ve been at your side.”

She looked toward the ceiling, pretending to
see beyond the rafters, past the night and the stars, and into
heaven, wanting to believe – pleading with God to let her trust
Alex’s words.

He came up behind her and placed his hands
on her arms. “You’re nothing like your mother. Our minds have a way
of tricking us even when the evidence disproves it. Your head can
lie to you. But your heart can’t.”

As much as she wanted to, Marisa couldn’t
trust him. She couldn’t trust Brad. She couldn’t even trust
herself. And she couldn’t continue listening to Alex dispute the
truth when she knew otherwise. She broke free from his hands and
ran out of the room.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

On Alex’s way out the door, Kelsey and
Lauren stepped away from Damon and confronted him, asking why
Marisa rushed out of the house.

Alex didn’t answer them. How could he
explain when he had no explanation? Although he’d lately consulted
Damon about his love life, Alex only now realized who he needed to
speak with when he parked his car outside his parents’ home. Other
than discussing the Bears and the Cubs, the stock market, and his
career, Alex didn’t often approach his father in conversation.

An entire lifetime of conflicting interests
told him that doing so would be impractical. But whenever he needed
guidance, he never hesitated to seek out his father. And he’d never
needed it more than at this moment.

When Alex walked into the house, his father
must have noticed the conflicting emotions on his face, because
without one word, he escorted his son to the garage, the place he
felt most comfortable. The two-car garage held his mother’s gold
Hyundai Sonata and his father’s black Harley Dyna, which would be
stored in Alex’s garage for the winter, to allow his dad to store
his Ford Fusion in his own garage during the coldest months of the
year.

Peg boards holding a metal shovel, gardening
tools, shrub trimming tools, and plenty of similar items clung to
opposing walls. His father sat on an iron stool in front of a
scarred oak workbench he’d constructed over twenty years ago. A
power drill, a buzz saw, various wrenches and sockets, and a hammer
were spread out on a countertop that held over 60 small,
transparent containers filled with nuts, bolts, screws, washers,
and dozens of other tiny elements necessary to build, maintain, or
fix. Everything was scattered in tiny boxes.

More than anything, Alex respected his
father’s handyman abilities. His dad had tried teaching him how to
work on his first car and how to create a xylophone for an
Industrial Arts class during middle school, but no matter how hard
he’d tried, Alex just couldn’t grasp the concepts and
terminology.

It frustrated his father, who picked up this
knowledge from his four brothers. But since he only had one son,
deep down Alex could tell that his father felt like he’d failed to
bring up a son with the basic knowledge that every man should know:
how to repair things around the house.

This aspect, more than any other, had set up
an imaginary dividing line between father and son. Because his dad
worked with his hands, while Alex worked with his head, they had
little to talk about and even less to discuss. Each man respected
the other’s innate qualities, but their different natures made it
difficult for them to communicate on a level playing field.

“What’s on your mind?” asked his father.

Alex leaned up against his mother’s vehicle.
“I bought a bike. A 2004 Harley Sportster.”

His dad squinted, disbelief dancing in his
eyes. “No.”

“Yeah, I did. It’s blue. I got it about
three weeks ago. My friend Damon helped me learn to ride. I got my
license last weekend.”

A smile parted his father’s lips. “You’re
serious?”

“Yeah. I still can’t believe it myself. I
was always scared of getting killed on the road.”

“Why now? What changed?”

“Well, you know what happened with
Marisa.”

His father nodded, remaining silent.

“That was the worst ever. I never felt so
bad…And I realized something had to change. I had to change. I had
to overcome my fears to feel better about myself. I had to stop
disappointing myself.”

“I could have helped you with riding. Why go
to your friend?”

Alex lowered his gaze, unable to maintain
eye contact. “All my life, I’ve let you down. I wanted to surprise
you. I wanted to say…here, I did this. Maybe we’re not as different
as we think.” He looked up. “I wanted you to be proud of me.”

His father’s eyes were glassy with
tears.

Alex stared at him, shocked. In all his
life, he’d never seen his father tear up, never seen him show any
emotion that could be construed as less than manly. That his father
revealed this side of himself touched Alex.

For some innate, unexplained reason, it felt
wrong to meet the eyes of another man who looked and felt so
vulnerable. Alex glanced away from his dad.

“I’ve always been proud of you,” his father
said.

Alex had waited nearly three decades to hear
his father say those words. And tears entered his eyes. He didn’t
know whether to laugh or cry.

His father chuckled. “You’ve done a lot that
I’ve never done. I never got a master’s degree. I never made as
much from one job as you have. So what if you don’t feel
comfortable working under the hood of a car? Who cares? You know
how to read a book, right? That helped me learn. You have to start
somewhere. Do you think I never made mistakes?

“Hell, you remember hearing me cussing and
getting frustrated in the garage or out in the yard, angry because
I couldn’t wrap my head around something. But I stuck with it. And
I figured it out. You were always impatient with that sort of
thing. You have to put in the time. That’s the reason you never
figured out how to fix a car or a dishwasher. It’s just like
anything in life. Nothing worth doing comes without a lot of
effort.”

Alex had never thought of it that way. It
seemed as if his dad always picked up knowledge as easily if he’d
downloaded the information from his computer and that data went
directly into his brain. Alex had always thought that he’d somehow
let down his father by failing to become more like him, so that his
dad could detect some resemblance of himself in his son. Isn’t that
what every father wanted? He blinked to offset the tears in his
eyes.

“But that’s not the reason you stopped by.
And I get the feeling that you didn’t come here in your Freddy
Krueger costume to tell me about learning how to ride. Am I
right?”

Alex nodded. “I need your thoughts on
something. Me and Marisa.” He wanted to say more, but he couldn’t.
Getting out the topic alone was difficult enough. He couldn’t go on
about how much he cared for her, how much he loved spending time
with her, and how much he wished to kiss her until their dying day.
Besides, his father had to know what he meant, didn’t he?

“You know how I feel about her. She’s a
great girl. But is she right for you?”

Alex raised his head. “You don’t think
so?”

“I didn’t say that. She joins us for dinner
every once and a while, but I don’t know her as well as you do.
Besides, you know how she feels about you, don’t you?”

“I can’t imagine my life without her. She’s
my best friend.”

His father nodded. “But that’s not what I
asked.”

“I’ve wanted to change things about myself
for so long, and once she turned me down, I went on a mission,
pushing myself to become the person I’ve always wanted to be which,
strangely enough, is the same person she needed me to be.”

“Did you succeed?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“So how does it feel?”

Alex couldn’t explain how free he felt now
that so many of his inhibitions had disintegrated, so he didn’t
even try. Besides, the smile on his face communicated those
thoughts.

“Good for you. No matter what happens with
Marisa, you’ll always have that. Living in fear isn’t really
living, now, is it? So you really have only one more question to
ask yourself.”

He waited.

“Have you done everything you could to win
her love?”

Alex considered that question. He’d shown
Marisa how he’d grown as a person: by stating his opinions when
they clashed with hers, by acting on his impulses and taking the
lead, by calling her out on instances where she mistreated him, by
flirting with her, by not acting like one of her girlfriends. She’d
responded positively to each of those actions.

But only one remained – one that might
convince her to finally believe in him. He looked up at his father,
filled with excitement and anticipation.

“Good luck, son.”

*

“Your father’s not here,” said Jaclyn
Moretti, standing in the doorway. “But he should be back soon.” She
turned and walked away, leaving the door open to the noxious fumes
of cigarettes and a hodgepodge of candle scents.

“I came here to speak with you.” Alex’s
statement that Marisa was not her mother reincarnated had
encouraged her to speak with the one woman she liked least on this
planet.

Marisa had gone home and changed out of her
costume and into a blouse and a pair of jeans. Had she still looked
like Cleopatra, her mother would have picked out numerous flaws
despite having no idea what Cleopatra looked like or how she
dressed.

Jaclyn turned toward her. “Oh?” She took a
drag on her cigarette. “What about?”

Marisa had so little experience talking with
her mother instead of talking at her that she had no idea where to
begin. “We’ve never had a real mother/daughter conversation.” She
now wished she could take back that statement. It sounded too
formal, too needy.

“Sure we have. We’re having one right
now.”

“Small-talk? You talk this way to your
neighbors, not to your daughter.”

“Who says?”

Marisa had hoped to get the conversation off
on better footing, but with so little practice, she had no idea how
to proceed. And the way her mother just stared at her, expecting
something Marisa couldn’t identify, made it even more
difficult.

Despite her confusion with where things
stood with Alex, and perhaps because of her attraction to Brad, a
two-timing fraud, only one thought clutched her mind: she needed to
speak with her mother, to find out if there was any truth to Alex’s
assertion.

But now that she was here, Marisa didn’t
know where to start. And in typical fashion, her mother wouldn’t
make it easy for her by offering her a drink or to have a seat on
the couch to talk.

“Well, like I said, your father will be home
any time now.” Jaclyn spun around, heading towards her bedroom.

“Don’t walk away from me.”

Her mother stopped. And turned toward her
again. A disgusted expression stretched her skin across her
cheekbones. “What did you say?” She started toward her daughter.
“What did you just say to me?”

The anger with which her mother spoke served
only to increase Marisa’s animosity. “You heard me. That’s all
you’ve done my entire life: turn your back on me.”

Jaclyn laughed. “And look how well you’ve
turned out: you’ve got the career you wanted. I gave you exactly
what you needed to succeed. And did you ever thank me?”

“For what? What did you ever do for me?”

“I taught you how cold this world is. How
you can’t rely on anyone but yourself.”

She stared at her mother, and it dawned on
her that, just as Jaclyn had hoped, Marisa had turned out
occasionally frigid and reluctant to trust others.

“Women are discriminated against every day,”
her mother said. “I refused to let anyone treat you that way. I
decided to treat you as an adult. That way, you’d be strong enough
to speak up for yourself. To get what you deserve out of this
miserable existence.”