What a Mother Knows (9 page)

Furious, Michelle swept the articles off the table. “My daughter is missing!” She turned and headed back toward the bedroom.

Michelle could hear Tyler as she headed down the hallway. “Coach, can we finish this another time? Dad said she needs to rest, you know, and not get so upset.”

“You're a good kid, Tyler,” Kenny said. “Unfortunately, there isn't a lot of time. The judge has fast-tracked the case.” He called down to Michelle. “The next deposition is coming right up, Michelle. We need to prep you. “

Michelle stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door. She climbed back in bed, but her mind was racing. She opened the get well card and listened to her daughter's message for the hundredth time. But instead of listening to her voice and cherishing every inflection, this time she focused on the words.

“Hello, Mother. I feel awful about what happened.

But I can't see you like this. I hope you understand.

Love, me.”

Now that Michelle knew more about the accident, she wondered what her daughter had meant. Initially, she'd assumed Nikki meant that she couldn't bear to see her mother injured. But maybe she was upset about more than that. Tyler said the video gave her a bit of notoriety at school—the accident would have put an end to that. If the cheerleaders had read those magazines, too, and teased Nikki about her mother having an affair with Noah, that would explain how she got angry enough to slam a locker door in someone's face. Either way, Nikki hoped her mother would understand. And of course Michelle wanted to, if only she had the chance.

When the sound of muffled coughing intruded on her thoughts, it was almost a relief. Michelle felt herself slip back into mom mode, when concern for her child outweighed everything else.

“Tyler, are you all right?” she called.

He opened her door. “Just the spring pollen. Coach said I can get a ride to the game with Cody's mom if I go early.”

“Okay, but the ball field won't be any better for your allergies.”

“Worth the hassle,” Tyler said. “Will you be okay here alone?”

She nodded and reached for her son's hand, so he could help her sit up. When he leaned over, she kissed his cheek, grateful he still let her do that. His sister used to turn her head until Michelle's lips met her hair. Boys were so much easier, she thought, as he waved good-bye and left. What was it about mothers and daughters that felt so fragile?

She saw Nikki's card on the bedside table and considered showing it to Kenny. She felt bad about causing a scene when he had only been trying to help. But what if Kenny decided to keep the card? Michelle couldn't bear to give it up.

A few hours later, Michelle hiked past the West Valley playground where she used to push Nikki on the swings. She quickened her pace toward the manicured baseball diamond and spotted the blue team warming up. For once, she wished she had her cane. While the winter rye was as plush as shag carpet, Michelle's legs ached for a rest. But she was determined to get to the field before her son came to bat.

As Michelle approached the fence by the dugout, she spotted Kenny in the outfield. Tyler was nearby, throwing the ball to Cody.

A man stuffed into stretch pants in the dugout glanced up from his newspaper, then did a double take. He spit out a sunflower seed and stood up. “Well if it isn't Tyler's Mom.”

Michelle relaxed a little. They were all called that, Somebody's Mom. That was the only title that mattered here.

“Howdy there, Michelle!” Kenny's wife, Cathy, approached in a T-shirt bedazzled with the words: Team Mom. Michelle was grateful to see her nod at the coach, who loped back to the third-base line. Cathy gave Michelle a warm hug. “Sorry I couldn't say anything about Nikki the other night. Drew insisted, and when you said she was coming home, I didn't know how to handle it.” She released Michelle and looked around. “How did you get here? Never mind. You look good,” she said with a nod to the linen dress and ribbon-edged cardigan that Elyse had bought. “How are you feeling?”

“A little overwhelmed,” Michelle said. “I'll feel better after I've spoken with Kenny again.”

“Would you like to sit with me and Emily until he has a moment?” Cathy pointed toward the bleachers.

Michelle looked over. A coven of baseball moms perched on the first few rows strained their necks around the crowd to see her. Michelle waved. Some of them waved back halfheartedly before turning to chatter with each other. But from the way their eyes kept darting back to her, Michelle guessed that they read the gossip magazines‚ too. She hugged her right arm. “No thanks, I'll wait.”

“Anything I can help with?” Cathy persisted.

“I want to apologize for this morning.”

Cathy lowered her voice, but her tone hardened. “I didn't hear the whole story, but I do know one thing: my husband knows what he's doing.”

Michelle heard the pride in her voice. “I don't mean to be ungrateful.”

Cathy smiled. “Good, because I need to ask you a favor.” Before she could explain, warm-ups ended and the boys ran into the dugout and onto the field. “Game's on.” She marked the score chart, then offered a lemon bar from a Tupperware container. Michelle demurred.

“What's wrong? You used to rave about these. Did your taste buds change?”

“A little, but Drew is the one who loves those. I'm more of a chocolate person—otherwise, why waste the calories?” Michelle was teasing, but Cathy didn't laugh. Shouts erupted and fans behind them cheered. They looked up at the field as the shortstop caught a grounder and shot it to first base for the out.

“That's the way, boys!” Cathy shouted. She marked hieroglyphics on the score chart.

“What happened?” Michelle asked. “I can't seem to remember the plays.”

“Can't blame the coma for that.”

Michelle glanced back from the field. “Excuse me?”

“Since we're being honest, Michelle, admit it. Six years of baseball and you never took the time to learn how the game is played.”

“I never had the time.”

Cathy kept her eyes on the game. “Maybe because you were so busy with your BlackBerry and your
Variety
and your bills. It was sweet when Nikki started coming and the two of you would knit, but even then you had to ask me for the score.”

“Sorry, but I thought it was enough to leave work early and fight traffic to be here.” Michelle's voice rose along with her frustration.

“Dressed in designer suits and heels that poked holes in the grass.”

“In Hollywood, you either go glam or go home.”

“Oh, Michelle. Look at you. You went from a hospital gown straight to a designer dress that a celebrity wore on
Letterman
last night.”

Michelle started to explain, but Cathy was on a roll. “And there was more than one complaint about how you flirted with the dads while your husband jet-setted around the world.”

“He wasn't jet-setting, he was living out of a suitcase. And I wasn't flirting; I was trying to get help for Tyler. I was friendly to the moms, too!”

“Sure, to switch snack day. Seriously, polite is one thing; friendly is another. Forget it. From what Kenny says, you can't remember much, anyway. But this has been really hard on everyone, you know? Not just you.”

Michelle tried to enjoy the game, but after a few minutes, she realized that Cathy was right. She had no idea what was happening on the field—nor did she care, unless Tyler was involved. But did that make her a bad person? She looked down at the Tupperware. “The truth is, I could never make lemon bars. I can't even do Slice and Bake cookies without burning them. I was never Team Mom or Captain of the Neighborhood Watch. Even if I stayed home, I could never be like you, with the homemade snacks and holiday decorations.”

“What is this?” Cathy asked. “Mommy Wars?”

“Call it what you want. At least your kid didn't run away.” Michelle turned toward the field, fighting back tears. She felt Cathy's hand on her arm. “Do you know anything about that? About Nikki?”

Cathy dropped her hand. “Can't go there.”

“Please, Cathy, I'm begging you.”

Two teenage boys in brown baseball jerseys ran up, interrupting them. “Aren't you Tyler Mason's mom?”

Michelle wiped her eyes and smiled. “Yes. He's in the bullpen if you want to say hello.”

The taller boy shoved a Roadhouse CD in her face. “We want your autograph, Killer Mom!”

Michelle balked. She must have heard them wrong.

Cathy snatched the CD. “You boys should be ashamed of yourselves!”

“Hey, that's mine!” the boy said as the other kid dragged him away. “Fucking bitch!”

“I'm calling your mother!” Cathy called. She handed the CD to Michelle. “Look, I'm sorry about all this. I really am. You may think my family is perfect, but I count my lucky stars every day. Like that expression, ‘There but for the grace of God, go I.'”

Michelle nodded. “Do people really call me that?”

“Just kids. Fans. You can throw that CD away if you want. I would.”

“No, I'd like to hear it.” Michelle looked up from Noah's sweet face on the cover and tried to shake off the spooky feeling. “Didn't you mention a favor?”

Cathy marked the score chart, then lowered her voice. “When your husband first called, I was against Kenny taking the case. I thought there was a conflict of interest, since he was the last one to see you.”

“Here at the field?”

“Yes. I warned him about the rainy forecast, but he refused to cancel the game, because we needed the win to make playoffs. By the third inning, when the boys were soaking wet, some of the parents had already left. We took a bunch in the van, so you offered to take the banner in the SUV. That's the last I saw of you.”

Neither spoke for a moment.

“Besides visiting a few times in the hospital, I mean. Which was almost impossible with such limited visiting hours. Anyway, around Thanksgiving, Kenny gave Drew a hand with the paperwork over a couple of beers. The auto claim was open and shut because you were in such bad shape. When they induced the coma, he set up a conservatorship with power of attorney and the living will and all that. Then, you pulled the Rip Van Winkle act and everybody started suing each other. Drew got a letter from Pacific Auto saying the case value might exceed the policy limits for personal liability, and you would be responsible for any judgment beyond that. So, in addition to the insurance lawyer, you needed a lawyer to protect your personal exposure. I think it's called Cumis counsel.”

“And he hired Kenny?”

“Don't act so surprised.”

“I'm sorry,” Michelle said, shaking her head. “It's just—a lot to digest.”

“Fair enough,” Cathy said. “But just so you know, my husband has the highest record of wins in the Valley, probably most of LA. He's got the right kind of charm.” She glanced over at her husband with pride, then marked the score chart.

“Since your health insurance maxed out, Pacific Auto kicked in up to the medical limit of your policy, but then Drew had to start paying out of pocket. Which made it impossible to pay Kenny. By then, we'd received so many new legal documents and subpoenas we had to get another filing cabinet. I begged Kenny to quit the case, but he didn't want to leave you in the lurch.” Cathy sighed. “He's trying to work something out with the insurance company, but the whole thing is out of hand. I've been making Hamburger Helper for dinner three times a week. They have forty-some flavors, but they all taste the same. And Kenny had to let his secretary go, so I had to step down as PTA president to help.”

“That's awful,” Michelle said. “How can he still volunteer to coach?”

“It's the only thing that keeps him going. That and the hope that he'll get a ton of new business if he wins.”

“Do you think he has a chance?” Michelle asked, watching him across the field.

“You tell me.” Cathy lowered her voice. “When I was helping Drew pack, I found your love note from Noah.”

Stunned, Michelle looked at Cathy.

“It said, ‘LA woman, you're my woman.'”

Michelle relaxed. “That's a song lyric, isn't it? Tyler said Noah was a Doors freak.” Michelle waited, but Cathy kept her eyes on the game. “Oh, please, you can't possibly think…”

Cathy interrupted. “Doesn't matter what I think. It didn't look good, so I threw it out.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“You're welcome.” Cathy paused to record a run on her chart. “But I didn't do it for you. I need this all to end. We're already dipping into Cody's college fund to pay the mortgage. Unless he gets a scholarship, he's looking at community college. With all the state cutbacks, it'll be years until he gets the classes he needs to transfer—and those baseball programs are a joke.”

Michelle saw Kenny whispering in a boy's ear at third base. “No wonder you're so angry with me. I am so sorry, Cathy. But what can I do?”

“Kenny mentioned a release your nurse dropped off—a formal agreement to end medical care. Sign it. Drew's already on a payment plan, but with more expenses coming…”

“What if something else crops up?”

“Then open a new claim that you won't have to pay until after the trial. But your knitting days are over, right?” They both looked down at Michelle's useless arm.

Michelle tried to understand. “So Kenny would get paid sooner?”

“That's the idea. Do you want to talk to Drew about it?”

“No, I'm a big girl. Just tell me what you heard about Nikki. Please.”

“You'll have to get that rehab doctor to sign the release, too.”

“Deal. Tell me what you know.”

Cathy looked up at the baseball field. “Kenny said not to upset you.”

“That's what Drew said, too. As if nothing upsetting has happened so far.”

“Men,” Cathy said. They laughed together, but only for a moment.

“Please?” Michelle asked. “All I know is: it rained. Did I take Tyler and Noah home?”

“Noah wasn't at the game.”

“You sure?” Michelle asked.

“He was mostly around at practices. And I would have noticed his Harley.”

Michelle looked at her. “Hard to picture that skinny kid on a Harley-Davidson.”

“This wasn't the big kind, not like Kenny had back in the day. Can you believe my husband had a 650? Looked like Russell Crowe riding that hog,” Cathy sighed. “Traded it for the minivan, poor thing.”

“Can you think of anything else?” Michelle asked.

Cathy shook her head and marked the scorecard.

“Which other parents should I talk to?”

“None! Please don't. They had to deal with the police and the news reporters. We forfeited the last game of the season to be at Noah's funeral. For most of these boys, it was their first one. And here you are, like the ghost of Christmas past, to stir it all up again.”

Michelle was beginning to understand why she felt stares pelting her back. When she looked at the bleachers, a few faces turned away.

“Go home,” Cathy pleaded. “Besides distracting the parents, there are too many teenagers here. Roadhouse is the biggest LA band since the Red Hot Chili Peppers.” She pointed at a cluster of teenagers aiming their phones at them. “You're probably already on YouTube.”

People were cheering again.

Cathy looked out at the field. “Drat. I've lost track.”

Michelle spotted Tyler trotting to the far side of the outfield. “Fine, I'll go.

“Thanks. And keep that dress clean for the deposition—it's perfect.”

Michelle looked at the beige linen. “Does it make me look innocent?”

“Aren't you?” Cathy asked.