The Way We Were

The Way We Were

The Ludzecky Sisters

Book 4

By

KATHRYN SHAY

Copyright 2015 Kathryn Shay

Cover art by Patricia Ryan

Smashwords Edition

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Author’s Note

Handle With Care

Close to You

Promises to Keep

About The Author

Chapter 1

Valentine’s Day

The dinner was awesome, Daddy. Opal smiled at her father like she always did, as if he’d hung the moon.

I’m glad you liked it, princess.

Mom does, too. Her dark-haired, green-eyed daughter looked over at Ana. Right, Mom?

Yep, my favorite of all your dad’s dishes.

Did you know, Opalinski—his Polish nickname for her—that I made this meal for Mom the first Valentine’s Day after you were born? Opal had turned ten in October.

How come you didn’t go out for dinner?

Ana steeled her heart against the story and transferred her gaze to the family room, where a fire blazed in the hearth and could be seen from the table in the kitchen. Jared had been living here because Opal had to have surgery in a week and he’d insisted he be close to her. Ana had nixed the idea of Opal at his house; instead, he’d moved into the home they used to share. But it was harder than she imagined it would be. These reminiscences were as difficult to listen to as much as rereading the notes Jared, a literary man, had written to her all their lives together.

We had a babysitter all lined up—Aunt Magdalena. But when she got here, your mother started to cry. His expression, when he turned to Ana, was the one he used to give her when he loved her. She didn’t want to leave you on your first Valentine’s Day. So I went out to the store, got ingredients for this dish, and we ate at home.

And, Ana thought, made sweet love that night. Memories of how good they were together devastated her, so she stood. I’ll clean up.

Jared’s gaze intensified. God, it wasn’t fair that he looked better at thirty-nine than when she’d met him. He had a touch of gray hair at his temples, but it made his eyes stand out like emeralds, even when he wore his glasses. Does that have to be done right away?

She pretended to inspect Opal. Both her height and her slender frame mirrored Jared’s more than Ana’s. And now her face was tense. I think our daughter is tired.

As if the suggestion made it so, Opal’s shoulders sagged. Yeah, I guess. She bit her lip. I can’t wait till this is all over.

Her rare kidney disorder made it necessary to move the ureter from the top to the bottom of her kidney, which would prevent the fluid buildup she was now suffering. Problem was, she’d lose most of the function in that kidney.

I know this has been hard for you, honey. Jared stood and kissed the top of her head. How about if you get ready for bed, and you and I read some?

"Will you do all those voices in Huckleberry Finn?"

I’d love to.

Their daughter left the room, and they heard her footsteps on the stairs. Ana crossed quickly to the sink with dishes in her hands. She began rinsing them, but the gravity of Opal’s situation hit her at the oddest times. Combined with Jared’s trip down memory lane, emotion welled up and clogged her throat. Please don’t let me cry.

Unaware of her emotional state, Jared began to clear the table. When he brought his and Opal’s plates to the sink, he stopped. She knew her body had begun to shake.

Annie. His pet name for her. He moved in close so his front, his heat touched her. His hands went to her shoulders. You don’t have to suffer alone. Please, let me comfort you. Let’s comfort each other.

Without her mind’s conscious consent, she leaned back against him. She couldn’t help it. Because she did that, he slid his arms around her waist and held her to him. His breath at her ear, he said, We can get through this together. I promise.

Though she knew he’d made a lot of promises he hadn’t kept, she let herself believe this one. She had to. She’d expended all her strength on getting through the past two weeks since Opal’s diagnosis.

This time, he kissed her hair.

Then, loudly, too loudly, she heard, Dad, I’m done… What’s going on?

Jared stepped away. Ana straightened. Just helping Mom clean up. He cleared his throat. I’ll be right up.

Ana could hear that Opal didn’t move. So she ducked out from in front of Jared and pasted a smile on her face. You look cute in those new jammies Aunt Mags gave you. Red and black, they had dogs on them.

Yeah, to take to the hospital. Again, she bit her lip. Looked as if Ana wasn’t the only emotional one tonight. Crossing to her daughter, she embraced her.

Ana wished she could keep her child close, not turn her over to doctors who would operate on her. But she couldn’t; she had to be strong. I promise we’ll be there for you, Opal. You’re not alone in this.

Daddy, too? she asked in a whisper.

Ana glanced at Jared. His face was taut and he’d gone stiff. She could tell he was as worried as she. Yes, Daddy, too. I promise. We both promise.

oOo

The next day, Jared went into the office he occupied in the Teacher’s Building of Mount Mary’s. He needed some essays he’d written in the past which were on his work computer. Opal had his cell number if she needed him. Several times during these past tension-ridden weeks, she’d had to be picked up at school, not so much because of pain but because of extreme fatigue. When the thought of what his baby was going through got too much to handle, work helped him escape his emotions.

He unlocked the door, but before he went inside, someone called out, Hey, Jared, how’s it going?

Turning, he found his friend and fellow teacher, who’d temporarily taken over his department chair duties, behind him. Hi, Rob. The book’s underway. Slow going right now.

Rob Porter’s face turned somber. We heard about Opal from Ana. I was asking about your daughter.

She’s making it through these weeks. The surgery is in six days.

Is there anything we can do here for you?

He shrugged. Pray.

Will do. Then, about the book. How’s old Nate these days?

His question brought a smile to Jared’s lips. There hadn’t been much to smile about lately. Nate’s coming along. I’ve gotten the chapters established. I came in to get some material off my computer.

Hell of a thing about the hacking.

Yeah, it’s a bad time not to be able to transfer my stuff from here onto my home computer.

Exhausted from keeping up a front, he said good-bye, went into his office and shut the door. Leaning against it, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he surveyed the room, which he hadn’t been to in a while.

And thought, of course, of Ana. When he got the position of English Department chair, she’d decorated his new professional space with him. He remembered the day the big oak desk had been delivered. They’d stared at each other across it, then he’d circled around and hiked her up to the smooth, sleek surface, stretched her out and climbed on top of her. The beautiful lovemaking had satisfied his soul as well as his body. Today, the painful memory was intolerable, so he settled down before his computer and booted it up.

His screensaver was a big, full-faced picture of his daughter. His gut clenched. Fuck, when he was alone, he almost couldn’t bear the fact that she would go under the knife soon. He traced the rounded cheeks she’d gotten from the Ludzecky family, the freckles that were from him, as well as the Creswell green eyes.

Call up your work, he told himself. There’s plenty of time in the coming days to let yourself feel bad.

In his early years as an educator, because of the publish- or-perish ethic of colleges, he’d written essays on Nathaniel Hawthorne that had appeared in the premiere publication for English teachers, The English Journal. One paper was an analysis of teaching methods for Hawthorne’s iconic book, The Scarlet Letter. This time around, he thought smiling, he was using his previous words (and beliefs) as an example of what not to do. He’d learned over the years the stifling effects of traditional methods of teaching literature. His new book would be his debut into debunking those practices. He hoped he could tolerate reading his early opinions.

He sent the essay to his private email. Damn the hacking. It was a nightmare for his wife not to be able to work from the house these days. She was dean of admissions, with sensitive information about past and prospective students. He’d first seen her on this very campus, leading tours her junior year when she worked for the admissions office. Her hair had hung nearly to her waist, and the blonde mane had given the sun competition that day. She was slender but solid, eschewing the skinny-to-the-bone standard most coeds adhered to. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her and only moved when she led the group to another spot. He’d been shocked, and dismayed, when she showed up the following fall in his senior seminar on American Lit for the Non-English Major.

He made a quick decision to pay her a visit. Her office was in a different building, but he could use the walk. The cold weather would settle his heated body, which