Unhealthy Coping Mechanism

Chapter 9

True to his word, Peter presented the pie to his father when he came to pick him up from school on Friday, alongside a bag full of Halloween goodies. Ryan accepted the gifts with a beaming smile, but when he approached Harriet's car his stiff gait carried a wariness that was impossible to ignore. "Carol's gotten you into baking, too?" he asked when she rolled down the window.

"You could say that." She scanned the school's entrance for any sign of Sam, but he was still busy collecting assignments he'd missed. Just her luck. He'd already been giving Carol grief ever since she'd decided to start her own catering business, but now he couldn't even see a dessert without getting in people's faces about it. Real mature. "I mostly just thought Peter could use something to cheer him up."

Next to his father, Peter's blue eyes had regained their brightness. No longer did he carry himself like a miniature adult, but instead like a fidgety little bundle of energy just like his classmates.

Ryan's shoulders relaxed. "Thanks for that. How are you and Sam doing? The two of you are ninety percent of what Frank talks about, aside from those stupid dog outfits."

She shrugged, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. What on earth was taking Sam so long? "We'll feel better once his dad comes home tonight. Sam's been looking forward to the chocolate he promised him."

"I bet he is. Speaking of which, I'd better skedaddle so you two can head on home. Hope you have a nice Halloween!"

As the pair crunched through fallen leaves on the way to Ryan's house, Harriet spotted Sam jogging out of school with a bloated orange and purple bag in hand. Spiraled black pencils topped with Halloween-themed erasers poked out from within, alongside a pair of individually wrapped sugar cookies sloppily iced to look like a bat and what seemed to be a deeply tormented ghost. That or a mummy coming dangerously close to falling out of its wrapping. "That looks like quite a haul," Harriet said.

Sam unwrapped one of the cookies and started nibbling on it. "We got to trick-or-treat," he mumbled around his mouthful. "Mrs. Dawson let me have an extra cookie. Want it?"

"Later." Harriet stashed the proffered cookie in the glove compartment to be stealthily thrown away later. "Make sure you save room for dinner and whatever your dad brings back from Hershey."

For once, his car was waiting for them at home. He greeted them both with a tight hug. "There are my two favorite people."

Sam handed him a jagged circle of paper with eight black pipe cleaners taped around its perimeter. "I made this for you," he said.

"You did?" Frank wiggled one of the little legs in a wave. "Thanks a bunch, buddy! I got you a little something, too."

As he'd promised, Frank had made Sam a custom chocolate bar loaded with everything from raspberry puree to chunks of caramel. "You can have mine too if you want."

"After dinner," Harriet said pointedly. Her own gift, a box full of chocolate-covered strawberries with a delicate drizzling of white chocolate, tested her resolve. "I take it everything went well?"

"Better than we could have hoped. They loved the ad so much they're mailing the whole team entire boxes of custom candy bars. Thank goodness I'll have plenty of help finishing those off, or I'd have to start rolling myself to work!"

Despite his cheerful words, his sunken eyes and pale cheeks betrayed how worn out he was. When Sam donned the T-Rex costume he'd be wearing on Halloween and stomped around the dinner table as if he was on the prowl for his next meal, Frank barely managed to turn a yawn into a chuckle. "Those plant-eaters have no clue what's coming for them," he said.

Sam flexed his 'claws', green rubber gloves with the fingertips sharpied into talons. "They're called herbivores, Dad."

"If you say so." He ruffled the bicycle helmet Sam had decorated with discs of shiny green glitter, his attempt at scales. "I'm just glad you're doing better."

And that was that. No 'I wish I'd been here to take care of my favorite little dinosaur,' no 'I'm sorry I keep making you so upset.' Nothing.

"Sam," Harriet said, "why don't you go give your dad's gift a taste? I need to have a chat with him."

Frank sank into his chair as Sam scrambled away to devour his chocolate. "It's been a long week, huh?"

"Yeah, especially since you didn't even call. Not once."

He winced. "I meant to, babe. You know I did."

"Did you? You could barely even be bothered to text."

"I was in meetings pretty much the whole time."

"Except when you were off getting custom chocolate bars."

He threw up his hands. "Alright, you got me. I kept my promise to Sam instead of only working so hard my fingers started cramping." He sighed. "I just want you guys to be happy, babe."

She pinched the bridge of her nose as the beginnings of a headache blossomed in her temples. She'd kill to drop the issue and go bake a cheesecake or something. "I know, but we can't be if you keep putting other people first like this."

"You want me to leave Ryan in the lurch."

"I want you to stop working yourself ragged with nothing but chocolate to show for it." She reached across the table and held his hands in hers, rubbing her thumbs over his skin. "Do it for me."

His muscles loosened under her nimble, practiced fingers. "Damn," he said with a groan, "you've still got the magic touch. How am I supposed to say no when you're doing this?"

"You're not." She got up and sank her fingers deep into his shoulder muscles, working out the knotted kinks. "You've been carrying an awful lot of tension."

"Indeed I have." His warm brown eyes met hers, melting her own stress away. "So have you. Maybe it's about time I book us both a nice, long session."

"I'd like that," she said. Her days as a massage therapist were long behind her, but it still brought her great pleasure to have someone working out all of her pent-up tension and stiffness for once. "I've been meaning to try a hot stone massage for a change."

"As long as some of that sweet, sweet lavender oil finds its way onto me, I'm good with just about anything."

She hummed her agreement. "Lavender's a classic for a reason. I swear you could toss that stuff at a rabid tiger and it'd end up in a purring puddle at your feet."

"That's exactly how I feel about you," he said. He brought up a hand and gently cradled her cheek. She leaned into his soothing touch. "You always know exactly how to help me chill out for a while. I just wish I could figure out how to help you."

"Start by not being such a people pleaser at work."

He chuckled softly. "Alright, alright. I'll work on that. And I'll see about gettin' that massage booked for the both of us."

"Thanks. I'm going to need it after..." Harriet struggled to swallow a lump in her throat. Curse her dad's failing lungs. The disease had robbed her of both her peace of mind and her ability to think about her own father without wanting to cry. "After Halloween."

"Oh, babe, I know."

They stood in a silent embrace for a while as he held her tight against his chest. His heart thudded against her ear in a steady rhythm as certain and as comforting as the sun rising after a night filled with darkness and roaring thunder.

His warm lips pressed against her forehead. "I'm here for you," he said with a quiet firmness.

"I know."

But she didn't. She couldn't even count on him to be there for himself when hours of staring at the computer's glow had left his eyes drooping closed and bloodshot. How could she expect him to be there for her when the only solace she'd had was the oven's soft hum?