House Wrecking Page 9

  When she was sure he’d gone, Sarah tiptoed out of bed and opened the door a crack. She watched Charles enter the bedroom down the hall. Then closed and locked her bedroom door.

  Legal Action

  Jeff expertly avoided scraping the side of the federal-style house turned office building with their minivan and squeezed into the one available parking spot in the rear. They got out of the car and mounted the three wooden steps to the back door, but a hand-written sign redirected clients to the front. Scaling the sinking front steps, they crossed the porch and entered into a tattered front hall furnished only with a stained and torn green shag carpet, vintage 1985. Lauren didn’t think her spirits could get any lower since Jeff had been served by the sheriff last Sunday, but they sank further as she searched for signs to Attorney Kelsey’s office.

  Her boss, Dr. Alford, said Kelsey was one of New Haven’s best lawyers. Anyone who was anyone in New Haven knew Jack Kelsey. He’d served on numerous boards and attended every New Haven society event, but Lauren and Jeff had never made his acquaintance. They located his name on the French doors to the right and went in five minutes early for their scheduled appointment.

  Finding no one at the reception desk, Lauren picked up a magazine to read; though her thoughts were on the reason they were there. Jeff was being sued by Baxter’s parents for one million dollars for negligent actions leading to the suicidal death of their son. Not only was there no insurance coverage at the time of the incident to protect him, the very same insurance company had notified the state of Jeff’s lapse of coverage, and now the state was investigating possible action on his license. The threat of financial devastation overwhelmed Lauren and she could barely consider it. They had tried to appear like a normal, loving couple in front of Brian and Claire, but she couldn’t eat, for the anxiety overtaking her, and the pounds were dropping off her already lean frame. She had no words for Jeff, steaming with anger and resentment over the Baxter situation. She could forgive his negligence around Baxter, but the lapse in insurance coverage crossed an important professional and family responsibility line.

  She could hear a man speaking on the phone in the other room, but couldn’t make out the whole conversation. The authority in the speaker’s voice gave her reassurance. The phone slammed down and heavy footsteps pounded toward them. An overweight man with dark brown hair and glasses approached them with a file in his hands.

  “You the Serra’s?” the man barked, dropping the file in a wire basket on the reception desk.

  Lauren and Jeff nodded and the attorney pumped both their hands. The tail of his white shirt was caught in the zipper of his pants. Had she been in a better mood, Lauren might have laughed. They followed him to his office.

  Attorney Kelsey scooped up the piles of papers and files sitting on the two leather chairs in front of his desk, and gestured for them to sit down. Dumping the papers on the floor, he settled into his desk chair, picked up a file, scanned it and dropped it again. He leaned back in his chair. “Ok, let me see if I got this right. You’ve been treating this guy for years, during which he threatened to off himself. He finally goes through with it at the group home and his parents are suing you for not preventing it – right?”

  Jeff and Lauren glanced at each other not sure how or who should respond. Lauren would normally jump in and answer the questions, but remained silent, forcing Jeff to speak up. “Yes,” he said.

  Kelsey scanned the file. “They’re suing the group home too, I see.”

  “Yes,” Jeff said.

  “They’re asking for the policy limit of a million dollars from you, his primary mental health provider. That’s to be expected.”

  “That’s the problem. My insurance policy wasn’t in effect at the time of Baxter’s death.”

  “Right, I remember that from your phone message. Well, the way I see it, we can try two things and see how they pan out. We’ll start with the insurance company. You had coverage while treating this patient before the incident and they re-insured you after the incident. Let’s go ahead and submit the claim and see what they say. How long had the policy lapsed before you re-upped?” he asked Jeff.

  “Only a couple of months,” Jeff said.

  “Well, it’s a long shot, but maybe they won’t catch that you were out of policy during the event in question. If not, we can argue that tail coverage applies. We’ll see if this flies. If not, we’ll go back to the plaintiffs and tell them you have no coverage. I’m assuming you guys’ don’t have a million dollars lying around, right?”

  “No, we have less than a thousand dollars in the bank after we pay our bills each month,” Lauren said.

  Kelsey smirked, “Join the club. I wouldn’t be hanging around in this dump if I had any cash either. If they hear you don’t have any coverage and no cash to offer, they might drop the suit.”

  “If not, then what?” Jeff asked.

  Kelsey rose from his desk, signaling the end of the meeting. “I’ll be honest with you, these are both long-shots, but let me make some calls and see what I can do.”

  Jeff and Lauren nodded. “Thank you, ” Lauren said. “What do we owe you?”

  “No worries. Your boss is an old high school buddy of mine from Notre Dame. I’d give him the shirt off my back. Let me see how far I get with the calls. If we end up going to trial, we’ll discuss a retainer. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Lauren shook his hand and walked out the door, leaving Jeff to trail behind.

  The Visitor

  Four weeks after her marriage to Charles, Sarah was sitting in the front parlor with her needlepoint late in the afternoon when heavy footsteps crossed the front porch. She knew it wasn’t Charles, who always entered through the side porch door into the dining room. She smiled in anticipation of Peter’s long- awaited arrival. By now, she’d decided she’d go home with him. Life with Charles was unbearably dull. She’d stayed in the house, at first for fear of missing Peter, then later for fear of the hordes of people she’d seen on the streets of New Haven during their first day.

  At least in Colebrook she could look forward to the dresses and jewelry Peter brought her in return for accommodating him in bed. Charles brought her nothing. In Colebrook, she imagined Peter would talk to her and listen to her talk. Charles barely seemed to speak to her and never responded with more than a few words. After their evening meal, she went to her room and he seemed to disappear somewhere in the house, although where she could not be sure. Of course, if she returned to Colebrook, she’d have to continue to tolerate Peter’s needs. But much to her disappointment, she had to tolerate the same needs in Charles – albeit less often. And for what? No dresses, no jewelry, nothing…if she were to return home with Peter, she’d become the lady of the house. Alice didn’t want the job anyway. She would entertain the upstanding citizens of Colebrook and Peter would take her to his business dinners and on trips. Yes, she’d have a better life back in Colebrook than in New Haven with Charles.

  But it was Sarah’s brother Andrew, who crossed the porch and knocked on the front door on a cool day in late April, 1890. She opened the door to the handsome figure posed on the porch rail amidst the undeveloped landscape. His height seemed to dwarf the great woods and West Rock Mountain behind him.

  “Nice place you got here, Sis,” Andrew said, pushing past her into the parlor, leaving her holding the front door.

  Sarah closed the door and followed Andrew into the house. He let out a low whistle as his eyes roamed the rooms.

  “What are you doing here? How did you find me?” Sarah furrowed her brow in surprise. They’d never been close and Andrew was the last person she expected to seek her out.

  “Your secret hideout wasn’t much of a secret, now was it? Although I’ll admit at the time I didn’t think you had it in you. Now I see the urgency.” He nodded at her un-corseted abdomen. “Anyway, the numbskull who took over the general store said you went to New Haven. He didn’t know the exact location, but I got enough details to narrow my search. I queried a few of the
village people here and they gave you up quick enough.”

  Sarah sat down on the sofa and spread her skirts around her. “I suppose Father has sent you to bring me back.”

  “Not exactly.” Andrew pulled out the desk chair. He repositioned the chair in front of her, and stooped forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Sarah, Father’s taken a bad turn.”

  “Taken a bad turn? What do you mean?”

  “That’s why I came to find you. Mother wanted you to know. When Father returned home from New York a few weeks ago and mother told him you had eloped, at first he said nothing. Then he slumped over in his chair and couldn’t get the words out.”

  The new servant girl Mary had brought in a pitcher of water and glasses and Andrew paused to take a sip. “Mother said he was talking gibberish and nonsense, moving his mouth, but the words weren’t coming out right, She helped him to bed and figured he needed a good night’s rest, but the next day he was still talking gibberish and he couldn’t move his right arm or leg. She called the doctor, who said it was apoplexy.”

  “I don’t understand,” Sarah said.

  Often people improve, but poor Father is having trouble eating and drinking. Mother says water bubbles up in his mouth and dribbles onto his chest. She can’t move him either. He just lays in bed all day. I’m afraid it doesn’t look good.”

  Do you mean father is…?”

  Sarah sat silent for a moment, not knowing what to think. She could have been relieved that Peter’s apoplexy might end his nighttime visits to her room to do the things she knew he shouldn’t do. Perhaps she should have been angry that she never had the opportunity to tell Peter she didn’t want him to do those things, or correct their relationship in her favor. But what she felt was the bereaved loss of Peter’s special smile on Wednesday mornings, and the special rub he would give her cheek, as if no one could make him happier. Tears pooled in her eyes, blinding her view of Andrew until they streamed down her cheeks. She cried a twisted, tortured cry from deep within her.

  When he realized that Sarah was unable to catch her breath, Andrew sent Mary to fetch Charles, who took one look at Sarah and even before hearing the cause of her distress, dosed his wife with laudanum and helped her to bed.

  Another form of Counsel

  On a snowy Sunday night in January, Jeff volunteered to make dinner. He only made one dish - - ginger chicken, but it was quite good. Lauren had snapped at Jeff for pouring the salad dressing onto the salad too early and making it soggy. She didn’t think much of it at the time. Communication had deteriorated between them since December when Jeff was served with the lawsuit. Not much had happened after they met with Kelsey. He’d said these things could drag on for years. They’d learned only that the insurance company was not going to cover Jeff for any role he played in Baxter’s death and Baxter’s parents were continuing the lawsuit despite this finding.

  Later, after the dishes and homework were done, clothes and breakfast dishes laid out for the next day and lunches packed, Lauren went into Brian’s room to tuck him into bed and found him crying. “Mommy, are you and Daddy getting a divorce?”

  “Of course not, honey. Why would you think that?”

  “Because, because… you had the fight about the salad,” Brian stammered out, tears streaming.

  Lauren rubbed his back and reassured him until he fell asleep, but the next day she woke convinced they needed to either fix their marriage or get out of it- - this was no way to live. When he’d returned from Washington, Jeff had suggested they go for counseling. Lauren had been reluctant, but that day she forced herself to ask Jeff to find them a marriage therapist.

  The directions given by the therapist led Lauren and Jeff to a sterile, gray box outside the borders of New Haven, in Hamden. The front entry was covered by a thin carpet that looked like gray AstroTurf and smelled like mildew. The walls were pure white, with a metal and glass marquis listing the various offices spread throughout the three floors of the building. Of course their therapist was on the third floor – the cheapest space for someone new to the business. They climbed the metal stairs, Lauren in the front, Jeff bringing up the rear. She was anxious to get started. She’d once loved this man behind her – or had she? She hoped the therapist on the third floor would tell her how to love her husband again, if nothing else, for the children’s sake.

  Lauren turned the stainless steel knob, but it was locked. “Oh for God’s sake,” she muttered to no one in particular and glanced at her watch.

  “We’re a little early, he’ll be here.” Jeff said, annoyed. “Relax.”

  Lauren rolled her eyes, but said nothing, resting her back against the wall to wait.

  A few minutes later, the stainless steel knob turned from the inside, and a skinny, nervous woman emerged, followed by a handsome young man with salt and pepper hair and fashionable tortoise-shell glasses. He said nothing to the woman leaving. When she was out of earshot, the therapist adjusted his wire-rim glasses, “Mr. and Mrs. Serra, I presume? Please come in.”

  The session started typically enough. The therapist introduced himself as David Freeman, and asked them why they were there, launching Lauren into a litany of their troubles. She began with the financial struggles Jeff had caused in his business, which spilled into their home life, his lack of help and responsibility for care of the children, his constant demands for sex and his recent crisis caused by the death of Baxter. Then it was Jeff’s turn to illustrate Lauren’s need to control everything, his inability to live up to her level of perfection, and his constant feeling that he wasn’t good enough for her. The therapist maintained a professional demeanor encouraging them to listen to one another and not interrupt. Before they knew it, the better part of the hour was over and they’d gone through most of a box of tissues.

  David said. “I’m sure you want to know whether or not I can help you fix your marriage. But this is a question only you can answer. You,” he nodded to Lauren, “believe Jeff is not doing the best job taking care of you and the children and you see Jeff as another child rather than your husband. It’s hard to feel sexually attracted to your child. Jeff, I think this is something you may not have heard before.”

  Lauren sat back in her chair, satisfied for the first time since she’d entered the office. “But Lauren you need to consider whether you’ve ever given Jeff the opportunity to provide for you. You may want to consider whether your need for perfection and control has prevented you from allowing anyone to take care of you, besides yourself.”

  Lauren sat back in her chair, stunned at David’s proclamation.

  The therapist gave them a moment to recover before he rose and they followed him to the door. “I have an available appointment each Tuesday at five. You have a lot to think about, but I can help you work through it, if that’s what you want. Please call me if you would like me to schedule you for this time next week.”

  They both nodded, left the office and drove home in silence, Lauren, considering for the first time that some of their problems may be her fault.

  Another Perfect Plan

  Three weeks later, Sarah was sitting in bed looking out the crack between the curtains. The buds had begun to show on the trees and she hoped that leaves would soon fill the gray branches. Since Andrew’s visit, she’d attempted grooming and dressing at Charles’s urging, but after supper she went back to bed, lest he get any ideas about nighttime activities. Today, she planned to remain in bed, despite Charles requests to get up. She straightened from her slouched position when the postman mounted the porch stairs with a letter in his hand. The slot in the front door squeaked open and slammed shut.

  “Mary,” she yelled.

  “Mary!” she tried again. Where was she?

  Curiosity got the better of her and she rose and tiptoed down the stairs in her dressing gown. She picked up the letter, found the opener on the desk; another artifact from Charles’ Aunt Rosemary’s home that seemed to spring up every few days. She opened the letter, but decided to bring both items
to her room – the opener could come in handy later. Once sequestered again under the blankets, she unfolded the crisp paper in her hands to find a letter from Andrew.

  Dear Sarah,

  I hope this letter finds you as well as can be expected amidst our father’s illness. His condition has stabilized. The nurse is able to get bits of chopped food into him and he’s regained the ability to sip through a new invention called the drinking straw. The nurse puts a thin tube in father’s mouth and he sucks up the fluid.

  I stayed on to help mother sort out father’s affairs. As his only son I am trusted to provide for both you and mother. He wanted me to take over the Prescott estate in his illness. Of course I told mother you had no need of the Prescott fortune with your new marriage and grand house. I further assured Mother that she’d be well cared for.

  I will stay a few more days to tidy things up here. However, I must return to New Haven to finish my legal exams. Let us visit there, in the city of our new homes and enjoy what is left of our family.

  Yours Truly,

  Andrew

  She read the letter again focusing on the word provide, and realized this was the perfect solution to all her problems. Peter had intended to provide for her and she would make sure Andrew honored his wish. She’d meet with Andrew and ask him for funds from Peter’s estate. She’d contact Kate and they would travel to New York City – no Europe, maybe South America.

  Of course, there was the problem of the infant growing bigger inside her with each passing day. According to her calculations, she was six or seven months along. No matter, she’d have it and leave it with Charles -- Mary would help. She tossed the letter on the bedside table and sank deeper under the blankets. Resting her head on the pillow, the vision of her and Kate on a ship crossing the Atlantic for Europe lulled her into a happy sleep.