Into the Fire

CHAPTER THREE

“What’s wrong, CM? You’re white as a sheet.”
“Um, I’ll tell you tomorrow. I gotta go. I—I’ll tell you tomorrow, Char.”
Char Benchford stared after her co-worker and friend. “He broke up with her,” she said to herself. “Oh no.”
It was a beautiful day except for the storm inside CM’s heart. She walked briskly down the street and past the coffee shop where she’d lost that fateful double mocha on Matt’s expensive shoes. The tears came in torrents—the dam had clearly burst. She needed to get to her car and get out of the city. She did an about face and went back the way she came to the basement parking garage to retrieve her car. She was trying desperately not to sob out loud, but she noticed even in the indifferent crowd on 4th Avenue, a few faces looked at her with something that resembled concern. Finally she arrived at her faithful cherry red Toyota Camry and got inside, grateful for the tinted windows. Without intending to, she broke down completely and held her face in her hands. She turned around in her seat and searched the back floor for her box of Kleenex, grabbing a handful and relocating the box to the passenger seat.
“Why am I crying? Isn’t this what I wanted?” she cried out loud. “I hate myself!” she shouted. “I do.” She sobbed until she had no more tears. She blew her nose several times and then started her car. Going for a drive was not an option. She went home instead.
Walking into her small house had the exact opposite effect of normal. Usually, every time she came in the door, even if only for a brief moment, she loved the fact that this little old house with the tiny yard and white picket fence nestled under an old oak and surrounded by some young evergreens was her private hideaway and hers alone. It was totally up to her if she cared to invite anyone over as her guest. But right now at this defining moment, the house felt cold and empty with no chance of change in sight. And although she thought she’d cried all the tears that could possibly be manufactured by one body, she started weeping all over again. The price of her independence: she was alone.

CHAPTER FOUR

Matt walked into his parents’ home to a warm welcome.
“Good to see you, son,” his Dad said as he gave him a manly hug.
“You, too, Dad.”
“Oh, honey, you look terrific. Robert, look at this handsome guy!”
Her husband laughed as their son replied his customary, “Oh, Mom,” taking her in his strong arms and kissing her cheek.
“Let me get some of your bags, Matt,” his father said as he headed out to Matt’s shiny black Pathfinder. “How’s your brother doin’?”
“Real good, Dad. He sends his love. He hopes to get down here for Christmas this year.”
“Good. It’s about time we got to spend a holiday together as a family again, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s been awhile, that’s for sure.”
“Well, your Mom’s got dinner just about ready. Do you need to clean up or anything?”
“Maybe just run some water over my face and change into some sweats if you don’t mind.”
“No—make yourself at home, Matt. We’re just glad to have you home, you know?”
“Thanks, Dad. It’s really good to be here.”
“Angela, that was delicious,” Colin sighed, smiling across the table at his wife.
“I’ll say. There’s nothing like your cookin’, Mom. I’m stuffed.”
“Thanks, guys. It’s a pleasure to cook for appreciative people.” She smiled, standing to clear the table. “There’s pie for later on.”
“I’m a little surprised,” Matt offered.
Angela flashed a quick glance at her husband.
“What about?” Colin asked.
“No wine at dinner. I don’t think I can ever remember not having wine with dinner.”
There was a brief silence before Angela continued over to the sink with her plate.
“C’mon in the living room and get comfortable,” his Dad said standing with his plate. “Your Mom and I have something we need to discuss with you.”
The three of them finished getting the dirty dishes cleared and then went into the living room.
“Is something wrong?” Matt asked nervously as he watched his Dad and Mom settle into their respective chairs.
“No,” his Dad answered after a brief moment. “In fact, things are very right,” he added smiling. “But ours can wait. Tell us about you—what’s been going on with you?”

The telephone rang and startled CM out of an unintended doze on the couch. It was already dark. Without thinking to check the caller ID she picked up the receiver and hoarsely answered.
“Claudia? Honey, is that you?” her Mom asked hesitantly.
“Oh, hi, Mom,” she answered after clearing her throat.
“I tried to reach you at work. Char said you went home yesterday and called in sick today. Are you alright?”
“Yeah, Mom. Light day, and I was feeling a little under the weather, you know?”
“I’m sorry to have to burden you with this if you’re not feeling well, honey, but your father has been in an accident.” She lowered her voice unintentionally and held back a sob. “A rather serious one, I’m afraid. You better come down to the hospital.”
“For real, Mom?” she asked, her stomach uneasy.
“For real, Claudia. And, CM, I have two requests. Number one: please hurry. And number two: please listen to what your father has to say. Please,” she nearly whispered. “I’ll see you when you get here.”
After getting the correct hospital and learning that her father was in ICU, she walked into her bathroom to wash her face, staring for a moment at her swollen eyes and red face. “My mother called me CM,” she said into the mirror. Milicent Marie Rutheford had never called her daughter CM, refusing to accept that her daughter wouldn’t choose to go by her given names, carefully chosen for her by her mother after the two most influential women in her life and agreed to by her father because of his own respect for the two women. Those must’ve been the days, she thought abstractedly as she hurried to repair the damage crying for hours had done to her face.
She quickly changed her clothes and was out the door within ten minutes of the phone call. As she drove to the hospital, she remembered her mother’s two requests, the second one puzzling her. When in the last 20 years had her mother ever told her to listen to her Dad? If ever in fact she had. Her Dad left them nearly that long ago after being unfaithful more than once. Her mother had done her level best not to badmouth her father, and although her Mom was truly a pretty woman with a sweet personality, she’d never married again, and you could count on one hand the amount of men with whom she’d ventured out on a date since the breakup. As CM grew into adulthood, she realized her mom had never stopped loving her Dad and she simply didn’t want anyone else if she couldn’t have him. When CM pressed her with pointed questions about his infidelity, her mom answered her as honestly as she could, but when those questions produced tearful answers, CM ceased asking them. It pained CM worse to see how hurt her mother was at what her father had done to them than it had hurt her—or maybe she’d just chosen to grow out of the hurt and lock it away someplace where it didn’t have to resurface. Until now. Why in the world should I listen to anything my father has to say?

“So, are you excited about your promotion?” his mother asked. “I have to admit I’m a little surprised you decided to come back here—you seemed to really like it up there.”
Matt was quiet for a minute. “I did really like it up there, Mom. And I probably would’ve stayed if things had changed, you know, with CM and all. When this offer came up, well, I guess it would’ve been foolish not to take it. To be honest with you, I’d hoped to have CM with me when I came back down here.”
His parents could hear the melancholy in his voice.
“You broke up?” his father asked kindly.
Matt laughed without humor. “That’s just it, Dad. There was no breakup. There was no commitment. There was just this line that I wasn’t allowed to cross in the relationship. I couldn’t live with it like that anymore.” Matt paused, leaned over and put his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling between his legs, looking at the floor. “I’m in love with her. I wanted to marry her, Dad.” And he realized for the first time how hard it was to hold back tears anymore.
His Mom got up from her chair and came over to the couch, putting a sympathetic arm around him, gently rubbing his back. He felt the tears drop from his eyes. “I really did.”
“So what happened?” his Dad ventured quietly.
Matt looked up and thought about what to say. “Here’s the deal, Dad. I tried to go over it all in my head as I was driving down here. From the day we met until the last time we were together. You know, kinda tryin’ to figure out how we got started and when we stopped going forward.”
Matt sat back against the couch. “Can I be blunt?”
“You know you can be straight with us, son,” his father replied.
“She wouldn’t sleep with me for a considerable amount of time. When she finally did, I actually wondered if it was her first time. She stayed the night with me, and when I woke up with her beside me, it was the greatest feeling I’d ever had with anyone—I mean, the whole experience. What made her so incredibly attractive to me was her innocence. It was just there in her eyes and then when we made love, she was, well, it was like no woman I’d ever been with.” He paused and looked down briefly, embarrassed to be talking about his exploits with his parents even though he felt better getting it out.
Quiet filled the room. Finally, Matt concluded his story. “I discovered on the way down that it was right after that night that she started shutting down. We continued to sleep together, but it was never the same for her. She was a little drunk on champagne that first time, and it seemed like for her to even remotely open up to me after that, she had to have a drink or two. She always seemed embarrassed afterward—even after a year and a half of being together.”
“Or ashamed?” his mother interjected softly.
That had never occurred to Matt. Not even once. But it fit. Perfectly. “Why would she be, Mom? I loved her. She’s the only woman I’ve ever felt this way about. I tried to let her know how I felt—how much she meant to me. I treated her with complete respect.”
“Son,” his Dad began, “you slept with her without committing to her. You took advantage of her.”
The shock on Matt’s face registered painfully to his Dad. “I know that sounds strange coming from me,” he said remorsefully.
“Matt, we’ve changed some things in our lives,” his Mom added solemnly.
Matt turned his head to face his mother, confusion consuming his expression.
“And we seriously regret not making these changes when you boys were younger—much younger,” his father added.
“What the hell is going on here?” Matt blurted out, exasperated by what he didn’t get, his gaze switching back and forth between his Mom and Dad.
Colin Preston stood and walked into the dining room, came back and gently dropped a well-worn soft cover Bible on the coffee table in front of Matt. Matt leaned forward on the couch and looked down at it, letting the fact register in his mind that it was indeed a Bible, and then quickly looked again at his Mom and his Dad.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” he nearly whispered.

Sweet Release (Romance/Women’s Fiction)