Rock Angel (Rock Angel Series Book 1) (51 page)

By the end of the second week, she was allowed visitors and Oda brought Angie every day. It was awkward the first few times they came. Not with her daughter, who was pitifully happy to see her, but with Oda and her all-seeing eyes.

Shan knew she looked awful. She’d lost at least ten pounds. Her skin was sallow and papery, her lips dry and cracked. She’d been picking her face, too, and her chin was covered with scabs. “You’re clean?” Oda asked.

“Mostly.” Shan shrugged. “They have me on antianxiety meds because of this.” She touched her chin. “And sometimes I need a sedative to help me sleep. No methadone, though.”

“Good.” Oda took her hand, held it. “I’m glad to see you getting healthy again.”

“I’ve never been healthy since you’ve known me, Oda,” Shan confessed, keeping a tight grip on her friend’s hand. “The ’done just turned me into another kind of junkie. Taking it was like trying to put out a fire with gasoline.” She turned her face up to the sun to let its warmth hit her injured chin and closed her eyes.
“Feel my blood enraged. It’s just the fear of losing you,
” she sang softly, almost to herself, then opened her eyes and smiled. “We used to play that song, remember?”

“Sure I do. I could bring your guitar. You can play it again.” Shan shook her head and Oda didn’t push. “Everyone’s asking about you. Denise. Lorraine. The guys in the band. And Quinn, of course,” she added gently. “When you’re ready, you’ll have lots of visitors.”

She wasn’t ready, not for a while, but after a couple more weeks she told Oda that people could come, if they wanted to, everyone except Quinn. Denise arrived the very next day.

They sat by the pool drinking decaffeinated coffee and Denise talked very fast about a wonderful book she’d read and wonderful movie she’d seen and a wonderful dress she’d bought. “You haven’t asked about Quinn,” she said, after a while.

Shan hadn’t asked about anything, since she hadn’t been able to get a word in edgewise. “How is he?” she inquired, since that’s what Denise seemed to want her to say.

“Not good,” she said and Shan knew right away that this was the top item on Denise’s agenda.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“You’re right to be pissed, Shan. You’ve really raked him over the coals and he deserves it. I have to hand it to you. Torture time is lasting a lot longer than I thought it would.”

“I’m not trying to torture him,” Shan said.

“But you are and it’s working. You should see him. It would break your heart.”

“He did that already,” Shan snapped. “I’m not about to give him a chance to do it again!”

“Well, you’re not giving him a chance to make it up to you, either,” Denise said, “and that’s not like you. You’ve always forgiven Quinn, for everything. Why can’t you forgive him this time?”

“Denise, I don’t understand you. You’ve never approved of me and Quinn, not even when you stood up for us at our wedding. Why all the concern, now that it’s over?”

Denise frowned. “I’ll admit I never understood why you adored him so. He’s such a dick, so bossy and overbearing, and he has that nasty sarcastic streak. And I hate the way he treats women,” she concluded, her face twisting. “Most of them, anyway, as if they’re worthless, disposable.”

“All right, then. You were right about him.”

“But I wasn’t,” Denise insisted. “It’s taken me a long time to figure out what you see in him, but now I think I get it.” She reached out and took Shan’s hand. “He’s different since you’ve been together, Shan. He’s so devoted to you, and to Angie. When he’s with you I can see it, why you love him so much. It’s like…like you complete him. You make him into the person he’s supposed to be. And that person—it’s a good one. Even I can see it.”

Shan stared at her. “I can’t believe you’re defending him.”

“I’m not. He did a terrible thing, but you know it didn’t mean anything to him. He just—fucked up.” She squeezed Shan’s hand, hard. “The guilt is killing him. I’m worried about him. So is Dan.”

“You don’t even
like
Quinn,” Shan reminded her. “You never have.”

“You’re right. Sometimes I don’t.” Denise let go of Shan and folded her hands in her lap, then looked down at them. “But we’ve been together for so long now. All of us. We have a history. We’re family, so we have to take care of each other. And, even if I don’t like Quinn sometimes, I guess I’ve grown to love him a little bit, too.”

Shan didn’t have an answer for that, so she stayed quiet. What could she say, after all? She knew, like no one else did, how easy Quinn was to love once he allowed it.

She’d been at Mountainside just over a month when her counselor, Elizabeth, suggested that she might be ready to have Angie come and stay with her. “It would be good for both of you, Shan. If your daughter is here, you can focus on overcoming your addiction instead of constantly worrying about where she is and how she’s doing.”

“Her father would never permit that,” Shan began, despite the sudden longing that suffused her. She missed her child every moment, her smell, her touch, the sound of her babble. It was a full-on baby jones.

“Let’s ask him,” Elizabeth said. “It’s time we brought him in for a session, anyway. Repairing your family is the next step for you.”

Some things were beyond repair, she knew, but the prospect of having Angelica with her was enough to spur her to action. After the session she went to the office and called Quinn’s mobile. “My counselor thinks we need a family session,” she said when he answered. “Will you come?”

Dead silence. She hadn’t spoken to him on the phone him in months. “Wow. I didn’t expect it to be you.” He sounded jarred, off balance. She concentrated on that, instead of the liquid warmth that suffused her when she heard his familiar voice.

“Well, it is me. Will you come?”

“Of course I will,” he said. “I’d have come sooner, if you wanted me.”

“I didn’t,” she said. “I don’t now, either. This isn’t my idea. It’s part of the treatment plan. My counselor will call you to set up a time. Her name is Elizabeth.”

“I’ll be there,” he said. “I promise.”

“Thanks,” Shan replied. “Good-bye.”

“Wait! Are you all right?”

“More or less. I’m clean. Mostly, anyway,” she added. “No methadone.”

“I’m glad.” His voice was hesitant, uncertain. She hated the way it was making her feel, all aglow and quivery inside. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine.”

“I can’t help it,” he said. “I hate having you there, even though it’s what you need right now. I know what it’s like, how alone it feels.” He paused. She didn’t say anything. “I think about you all the time, angel. And I miss you,” he added quietly.

“Screw you, Quinn,” Shan said, her voice shaking. She hung up the phone.

When the day came for the session, Shan had worked herself into a state of self-protective anger. At the appointed time she stalked to the counselor’s office and threw open the door. “Let’s get this over with,” she snarled at Elizabeth, who was seated at her desk.

She rose, a buxom, pretty woman with dark, curly hair and intelligent eyes behind silver-rimmed glasses. “Good morning, Shan. Your husband is here.” She nodded at Quinn, who was standing by the window, looking out.

There he was, her cheating prick of a husband whom she still, inexplicably, loved. His face looked drawn, gaunt, and his hair was longer than he usually wore it, past his shoulders. He looked pale, too, but she could see the flush of a new sunburn across his cheeks. “Hi,” he said.

Shan nodded and sat down on the couch. She couldn’t answer him, because her heart had leapt out of her chest and into her throat. “Nice place,” he remarked.

Shan coughed. “Is it like the place you went?” she asked, after a minute. It seemed like a safe topic, their mutual detoxes.

“No.” He shook his head. “That was in Malibu.”

“On the water. That figures.” She sat a little straighter. “I prefer the mountains.”

“I know.” He moved toward her, as if to sit beside her, but the look she shot him clearly transmitted her displeasure. He sat down across from her, instead, and looked down at his hands. She saw that he was still wearing his wedding band. She’d taken hers off, months before, although she still wore the pretty garnet and diamond ring he’d given her.

Elizabeth joined them, choosing the flowered loveseat between the couch where Shan sat and the chair that Quinn occupied. “Thank you for coming, Quinn.”

He shifted, keeping his eyes down. “Absolutely. Whatever she needs.”

“The only thing I need from you,” Shan said, “is my daughter.”

He looked up then, surprised. “I’m not keeping her from you. I never would.”

“But I want her
here,”
Shan emphasized, “with me. Living with me.”

“Here?” He looked nonplussed. “At the rehab?”

Shan glared at Elizabeth. “I told you he wouldn’t let me do it.”

Quinn still looked confused, so Elizabeth filled him in. “We have accommodations for parents who wish to keep their children with them while they’re in treatment, Quinn. It’s helpful, sometimes, because it takes a long time to recover from an addiction. It can’t be rushed, either.”

“I know that,” he said. “Firsthand, in fact.”

She nodded. “For mothers especially, separating them from their children can make them anxious to get through the program as quickly as possible. When the kids are here, they’re likely to stay longer, which helps make the treatment more successful.”

Quinn frowned. “Do you feel like you’re ready for something like that?” he asked Shan.

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t ask. I’d never put her in danger.”
Except when I almost burned the house down over her head.
Another surge of self-loathing filled her and she ducked her face.

Quinn was still frowning. “I’d like to hear some of the details.”

Shan snorted, but Elizabeth was already launching into a description of the program. Private quarters for families. Certified child care staff for times that Shan would need to be away from Angie, for counseling sessions or meetings. Play groups. Story hours. Field trips.

“Sounds like summer camp,” Quinn said, but his frown had cleared.

“We try to make it as positive an experience as possible,” Elizabeth agreed. “The kids need to be safe and happy, so that their mothers can focus on getting well.”

“What if she stays with you during the week,” Quinn said to Shan, “and I take her on weekends? That way she’d still be in her home, at least part of the time.”

“Your hotel isn’t her home,” Shan corrected him sharply.

“I’m not there anymore. I’ve been staying in Mission Cove since you’ve been here,” he said, frowning anew as her eyes widened. “Didn’t Oda tell you?”

Shan shook her head. The thought of Quinn back in their house filled her with alarm. It scared her because it sounded so right, like that was the way it was supposed to be.

“I thought it would be better for Angie. More normal. It’s hard on her, being away from you. Don’t worry,” he said, correctly interpreting the look on her face. “It’s temporary. I’ll leave when you’re ready to come home.”

That was scary, too, how well he knew her even now.

By the end of the session, they had Angie’s schedule worked out. Shan still didn’t want Quinn visiting her, but they’d see each other when they passed Angie back and forth. Elizabeth wanted to meet with them weekly to work on healing their family dynamic, although Shan stated flatly that she had no interest in resuming their marriage. Quinn didn’t comment, just looked sad, and at the end of the hour he asked Shan if she’d walk him to his car. “Please,” he added, when she hesitated. “I have something for you.”

She squared her shoulders and followed him out to the parking lot. “You’re doing the twelve-step thing again?” he asked, along the way. “That never much worked for you before.”

“It still doesn’t,” she confessed without looking at him. She kept her arms tightly crossed over her chest, as if to block his access to her heart. “But I’m trying everything. Group therapy. Acupuncture. Macrobiotics. Even a sweat lodge,” she added. “It smells like a dirty hippie.”

He laughed out loud. It sounded like a rusty gate opening. She herself hadn’t laughed, really laughed, since before that morning in Seattle. From the sound of it, neither had he. “Good plan,” he said. “Even the NA thing. There’s really something to it, that higher-power stuff.”

“Oh, please. You’re an atheist.”

“I said higher power,” he emphasized. “Not God. It’s not the same thing. Your higher power is the thing that guides you, keeps you on course. It will save you, too, if you let it.”

“It can also destroy you,” she shot back, experiencing a potent, virulent spurt of rage. She didn’t want any guidance from him, not now or ever again. “And if you’re not careful, it can take your heart and soul and shred them into a million pieces. It can destroy every single thing that matters to you, until there’s nothing left. You’ll never be my higher power again.”

He stopped dead and, when she looked up at him, she saw he was paralyzed. The pain in his brilliant eyes was so deep and raw and stark that they looked colorless.

She looked away. They’d reached the parking lot. She saw his Testarossa, parked in the shade with the windows rolled down. “I have to get back. What did you want to show me?”

He didn’t say anything, just went to his car and pulled open the door. When he did a black shape streaked out, heading straight for Shan. She gasped.

“Sugaree!”
She dropped to her knees and was immediately knocked flat by the dog, who flung herself upon her person with insane, irrepressible joy. Shan wrapped her arms around Sugaree’s neck and let her face be bathed in sweet, sloppy kisses. For the very first time since she’d been at Mountainside, she felt a lightness in her heart.

Shan took her out on one of the trails, which felt healing and restorative with Sugaree at her side. They had a short hike, including a stop at the pond where Suge went for a dip. After a bit, they returned to the parking lot. Quinn was sitting in the car, head down.

Shan was smiling when she opened the door. “She’s all wet,” she warned, laughing as Sugaree leapt inside, spattering drops like a summer rain. But the laughter died on her lips when Quinn looked up and she saw his tears.