Double Love, chapter 13

The knock on the door was soft but persistent.

"Steve?"

No answer. Ned Wakefield knocked again.

"I have to talk to you."

Mr. Wakefield turned the doorknob slowly. The room was in total darkness, although it was almost nine in the morning. He pulled up the shades and walked toward the bed, where his son was hidden under the blankets.

"Hey."

Steven didn't stir.

Ned Wakefield sat on the bed and poked the lump under the blankets. "I'm not going away, so you might as well come out."

The blanket fell away from his face, and Steven blinked at his father. There was a two-day beard on his face, and his eyes were bloodshot and swollen.

"You look terrible," said Mr. Wakefield.

Steven sat up on the side of the bed and held his face in his hands. "Why not? I feel terrible."

"Listen, Steve, I used to think my troubles would go away if I hid out long enough, too. But they won't."

"Thanks, Dr. Wakefield."

"You're welcome. Now, get up, shave, take a shower, and come on down. Let's talk."

"I thought you had an important case to work on."

"I have. Wakefield versus Wakefield. Up!"

Back downstairs, Alice Wakefield looked at her husband with concern. "Is he up?"

"He's coming down."

"Thank goodness."

They had known that Steven was depressed the last two weekends he had been home. This weekend was worse. Steven had been hiding in his bedroom for two days with no explanation. When he had not gone back to school Sunday night, Alice and Ned Wakefield had cornered the twins and demanded to know what was happening. It was like pulling teeth. Neither Elizabeth nor Jessica wanted to squeal on their older brother. But eventually the story about Tricia Martin had come out.

Steven looked much better when he came downstairs. He sat down at the table, and his mother put orange juice in front of him, but he pushed it aside.

"Not hungry, Mom."

"Hmmm. This must be serious," his mother said lightly. She was rewarded with a glare that might have bored holes through a brick wall. "Sorry."

"Steve, let me tell you something," his father said. "Anything you're going through, I went through."

"Sure."

"Yeah-sure. And so did your mother."

"Mom?" That got his attention. "Aw, what do you mean. You two-"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"We never had a problem in our lives? Is that what you think?" said Mrs. Wakefield.

Steven picked up the glass of orange juice and sipped it. He felt uncomfortable talking about his mom and dad, especially now when there might be something going on with Marianna West.

"But never mind us," said his father. "What's all this about Tricia Martin?"

Steven sighed. "The twins told you? Oh, well. It doesn't matter anyway."

"Why'd you have to keep it a big secret?" Alice Wakefield asked. "Tricia's a lovely girl."

"Yeah, I know. But her family..."

Ned and Alice Wakefield exchanged glances. Tricia Martin's family was no bargain, and they knew it. Her father was the town drunk, and her sister Betsy had a horrible reputation. The mother had died of leukemia when the kids were little, which really had torn the family apart. It was all understandable, but that didn't make it any easier. And now Steven was mixed up with them. The question was, how seriously?

"Listen," Steven was saying, "this is really no big deal. Just forget it." He started to rise again, but his father's hand on his arm sat him back down.

"Steve, anything that's kept you hiding out for two days is important enough for me. How serious are you about Tricia?"

"Well, Dad, I think I'm in love with her. She's really terrific."

"And how does she feel about you?" Alice Wakefield asked.

Steven got up and paced around the kitchen. "She hates me! She'll never speak to me again. And it's all my fault. I don't deserve such a great girl."

The anguished tale then poured out of Steven Wakefield. He heaped abuse upon himself as he told them how he had pretended that her family's problems didn't matter. He loved her "anyway," he had told her, and he was above that sort of thing.

"She saw right through me," Steven said bitterly. "She saw the truth-a truth I didn't even realize-that I was ashamed of her family. That I didn't consider her good enough for me but that I would accept her out of the goodness of my heart. What an idiot I was! Now it's all over. She never wants to see me again. And I don't blame her. I'm just miserable."

"Have you told Tricia what you just told us?" said his mother.

Steven stopped pacing. Slowly he sat down at the table. He poured some coffee and sipped it. He shook his head.

"I couldn't do that, Mom."

"Why?"

"It would be too-I'd sound like such a jerk."

"Is it the truth, Steven?"

"That I'm a jerk? Yes, it's true."

"No, no-that you didn't realize what you were doing."

"Yes," Steven said slowly. "That's true."

"Do you still love Tricia?"

"Oh, yes." Not a moment's hesitation.

"Then go and tell her exactly what you told us."

"It's the only thing you can do," Ned Wakefield urged.

Steven looked at the table for a moment, and when he spoke, he couldn't face his parents. He asked quietly, "What do you think of my being involved with the Martins?"

"You're not involved with the Martins, Steven. You're involved with Tricia."

"You don't mind?"

Ned and Alice Wakefield glanced at each other.

"Steven, you can't judge a person by his or her family," said Mrs. Wakefield. "I won't pretend that the Martins don't make me uneasy. But if you love Tricia, then you've got to fight for her. She's Tricia Martin-not Betsy, not her father."

Steven was up on his feet again, pacing. "You're sure you approve of Tricia, Mom? Dad?"

"Steven, it's whether you approve of her," Ned Wakefield said. "Follow your own judgment-as well as your heart."

Steven searched his father's face anxiously and then his mother's, looking for a clue to the pain and suffering they might be undergoing. Was this long-lasting, seemingly warm and solid marriage on the verge of destruction? Steven wished he could tell, but it was impossible. Whatever their problems, they were united to help him. Steven felt love racing through him, and he suddenly grabbed his mother in a bear hug.

"Hey-"

"I love you, Mom!"

"I love you, too, Steve." And then Steven vaulted through the kitchen door, dashed out the front door, and was gone, on his way to Tricia Martin's house.

Steven drove up to the Martin's saggy-roofed ranch house, a neglected old place that badly needed a paint job and general cleanup. As he approached the door, he could hear Tricia coaxing her father into his room.

"Come on, Pop. Lie down and get some sleep. You'll feel a lot better," Tricia said.

Steven opened the door and entered quietly. Tricia was returning to the living room.

"Steve!" she gasped. "What are you doing here? I thought I'd made it clear-we have nothing more to say to one another."

"There is one more thing I have to say, Tricia," Steven said softly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I acted like such a jerk. You were right. I was being patronizing, but I was too stupid to realize it. Can you forgive me, Trish, for being a complete fool? I love you. I love you so much."

"Oh, Steve," Trish said. "I love you, too."

She was so beautiful and fragile at that moment, Steven thought, her brown eyes shining, her hair floating about her oval face in a red-gold cloud.

With tears streaming down their faces, Steven and Tricia shared a long, tender kiss.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I'm so sorry," Steven said softly, planting gentle kisses on her eyes, her nose, and her forehead.

"Tricia! Tricia, come here," a voice called from the other room.

"My father needs me, Steve. I have to go to him."

"Can we talk later? There's so much I want to tell you. How about a long conversation over clams and a shake at the Dairi Burger tonight?" Steven asked, holding her face in his hands.

Tricia beamed a radiant smile. "OK, see you around eight." She rushed into her father's room as a very happy and relieved Steven Wakefield let himself out the front door.

The evening had been beautiful, Steven mused as he drove home after dropping Tricia off. His thoughts swirled pleasantly around her lovely image. And then, as though to cap off the evening perfectly, he spotted his father's rust-brown LTD just ahead of him. It would be fun to follow his dad home and thank him for helping him with what had seemed a hopeless mess. Steven turned on some soft music and cruised quietly along, dreaming happy dreams. He wasn't ready for the turn his father suddenly made into a side street.

Without really thinking, Steven turned also and followed the car. Only then did he notice that there was someone else in the car with his father.

Marianna West!

Steven didn't know what to do. He certainly hadn't planned to spy on his father. But there he was, following his father and Marianna-and wondering what in heaven's name was going on. It was too late, he realized, for them to be coming home from work.

The LTD began to slow down.

Steven slowed down, too. He couldn't pass them now. He slid his car into the shadows of a hedge along the drive and parked there.

The LTD pulled into a driveway and stopped. Marianna West got out. So did Steven's father. They were laughing together about something as they walked toward Marianna's white-shuttered house.

"Oh, no." Steven moaned. He didn't want to believe it, but the evidence was too glaring to ignore.

He sat in the car for a long time, waiting for his father to come out. He listened to at least a dozen songs on the radio, without hearing any of the music, before he finally gave up and drove home. Everyone was asleep when he got there.