Package Deal(73)

“Come in.”

He stepped into her office and shut the door. “We need to talk.”

She started to get up from her desk. “I—I—”

“I’ll do the talking. You just listen,” he said, fearful that if he paused, she would kick him out.“I want you to know I need you at the writer’s workshop, and I was hoping you were still planning to come up for the planning sessions. And I want to apologize … for upsetting Cece on the porch the other day. You know I wouldn’t do a thing to hurt you … or Cecelia. And my being there—in your bed—created problems. If I … we could just explain things to her, maybe she would see—”

She held up her hands. “Marcus, please. Point number one. You asked me to do the writer’s workshop. I agreed, and I always honor my commitments. Point number two. You set up the planning sessions three days in advance, and I agreed to be there for them, too.” She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Just so you know, I tried to explain things to Cece—about us. But what Joan has said … it carries a lot of weight with her. You know how kids are. What adults other than their parents say sometimes means more to them. And, as for point number three, you have nothing to apologize for, except—except—”

He saw the pain in her eyes. Is she thinking it’s over between us? He approached her, but the waving of her hands told him not to come closer as tears began to slide down her cheeks.

“Please go. We can talk more when we’re at the workshop. I have work I have to finish and Cece is supposed to be here any minute.”

As if on cue, the door opened and the child walked in. When she saw him standing there and her mother’s tears, she turned and glared at him.

“You made her cry. Stay away from us!” she shouted. “I don’t like you anymore!” When Cecelia pushed him toward the door, he was surprised at how strong she was.

“Cece. Stop. Right now.” Amanda’s face was a study. “That was uncalled for. You will apologize to Marcus. You know better than that!”

Cecelia refused to look at her mother. When she glanced in his direction, Marcus thought he saw resentment in her eyes, but she was silent until her mother grasped her arm and gave it a quick shake.

“Cece. Apologize. Now.”

In the smallest of voices, with no hint that she meant it, the child said, “Sorry.”

He reached out to touch Cecelia’s shoulder then thought better of it. “Apology accepted.” He glanced briefly at Amanda then walked out of the office without a word to Beatrice, who looked up at him. His hands back in his pockets and his head down, he left the building. Cecelia’s words continued to ring in his ears. “Stay away from us!” The workshop was on. She’d said they would talk then, but how was he going to get through the sessions if he had to look at Amanda and not be able to touch her?



Amanda packed for the writer’s workshop, leaving instructions for her mother to let Cecelia work out with the soccer team as planned. She warned the coach that Cecelia’s grandmother might not be cooperative and prayed that all went smoothly during her absence. Since Cecelia’s encounter with Marcus on campus, she had not mentioned him, and her daughter asked no more questions and made no more accusations. It was as if Marcus had been erased from their family life, but his absence left a cavernous void—in her heart and in her bed.

Cecelia was eager to get back on the soccer team and she seemed to have healed completely. She was now running and jumping like any other active ten-year-old. The only change in her behavior was her unwillingness to talk about Marcus.

As Amanda prepared to leave, Cecelia gave her a big hug. “Have fun with all those other writers. You promised Grandma and I could go to that neat restaurant where we can see the boats while we eat. And I’m going to show her the big mountain from your office window.”

“Say hi to Beatrice for me when you take Grandma to my office. Be good while I’m gone.”

She kissed her daughter, waved to her mother, and drove to the wooded setting where the August Writers’ Workshop was being held. Two hours after leaving home, she looked out the window at the light summer rain that was damping down the dust in the road near the lodge. Marcus’ car was already parked nearby when she arrived.

Weeks before, they had planned to drive up together. Now, everything they did was separate—a metaphor for their lives, lives she had once thought were moving toward a more public couple relationship, even if they weren’t living together.

Amanda checked in and placed her bags in her room. Marcus was nowhere in sight, and when she asked at the desk, the woman there claimed she had not seen him.She picked at her dinner as she sat alone at a table in a far corner of the restaurant. From there, she watched as others entered and left. A pair—honeymooners, she concluded—were seated close to her, their murmurings wafting in her direction. She left her dessert untouched. After dinner, she wandered through the lodge and reluctantly returned to her room. A cloak of loneliness weighed down her shoulders.