A Woman Lost (9 page)

Maddie walked in with the salad and seemed to wince a little when she saw the seating arrangement. Peter gave her his not-right-now smile. She shook her head and said, “I’m happy that all of you could join us this evening.”

After placing the bowl by the man of the house, Charles, she sat down. “Peter and I have an announcement.” She placed her hand on Peter’s.

Panic overcame me. I stopped breathing.

“That’s right. After much finagling we have finally got our schedules squared away, and we have set a date for the wedding.”

What a relief! I thought for sure she was going to say she was pregnant. I didn’t think I could handle that.

“That’s great news. When’s the big day?” asked the romantic, Sarah.

“July fourteenth,” replied Peter.

I started to panic.
Please Sarah, don’t say anything
.

“Did you say July fourteenth? That’s Lizzie’s birthday.” Sarah sounded baffled by Peter’s oversight.

I wasn’t shocked at all.

“Peter, you didn’t tell me your sister’s birthday was the fourteenth.” Maddie genuinely seemed upset. I hoped she’d throw the salad bowl at his head.

“What? I thought … that’s right it is. I got so caught up on scheduling I totally spaced it. It’s not easy you know, coordinating mine, yours, Mom’s and Dad’s schedule.” He threw his fork down on top of his salad defensively. Coordinating with my schedule obviously wasn’t important to him.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to come up with a different date,” Maddie said, scowling at him.

I was glad we had come to dinner; the drama was pure entertainment.

I stammered, “A-are you kidding … keep it on my birthday. That way I won’t forget it. I’m horrible at remembering things like that. You have to keep it.”

“Doesn’t say much about you as a historian, if you can’t remember dates.” Maddie laughed and took a sip of wine. I could tell she was seething but was trying to regain control.

“I told you history is the greatest story ever told, remember … not just dates.”

She nodded, but the anger was still present.

“You wouldn’t mind?” Peter seemed relieved. “Because we already started reserving everything and making initial plans.”

“Nah. I don’t really celebrate my birthday anyway.”

Sarah squeezed my leg under the table. I could feel her nails digging in. We had planned a trip to the Tetons that week. I glanced at her again, but didn’t know what to say. What could I do? Say, “No way, Jose, that’s my birthday?” Wouldn’t that be childish?

“Good. It’s settled then. The date is July fourteenth,” declared Peter. “And we won’t have to buy Elizabeth a cake, since there will be wedding cake.”

What a nice thought, Peter.
I tried to remember if I had ever had a cake on my birthday.

Maddie looked at me, but I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. I smiled and raised my water glass in her direction. A weak attempt, I know, but it was all I could do at the time.

She smiled and turned to Sarah. “How are your classes going?” she asked.

“What? Another student?” cackled The Scotch-lady.

“No, Mother. Sarah teaches high school English.”

“My classes are good. They’re always good this time of the year … wait and ask me in December and my answer will be quite different.” She giggled.

“High school, huh?” Peter looked at me. “They don’t pay you guys much. Would you consider yourself more of a volunteer?” He chuckled.

“Peter, what an awful thing to say.” Maddie’s beautiful face scrunched into a frown.

“All that I’m saying is that teachers don’t make much.” He paused, looked briefly at Mom and Dad, and then said, “It’s a good thing Elizabeth has a trust fund, since she didn’t go into the family business.”

Family business. What were we‌—‌gangsters?

My mother bristled. I often wondered if she had tried to cut off my trust fund. My father just looked bored, but that was normal, so I wasn’t sure how he felt. He would be great at Texas Hold ‘em.

“Peter, thanks for your concern. But I have my own trust fund.” Sarah’s expression was one of triumph.

Maddie glowered at Peter.

“What? I was just making a joke. She gets so touchy about these topics. You know, Maddie, I’m starting to think you aren’t a Democrat at all, but a hard-core liberal.” Again he chuckled, but it sounded nervous this time.

“How can you be a Democrat? You’re from the south? Aren’t all Democrats supposed to be from the northeast?” asked my mother.

“I thought Arkansas was a southern state?” I quipped.

“You know, I’m not from there, but I think you are right, Lizzie,” Maddie replied, a huge grin on her face.

“Wasn’t one of their governors … oh, what is his name … a Democrat?” I went further. “And didn’t he become president?”

“And didn’t he marry a lesbian?” My mother pronounced it Les-Bi-An. Some words she liked to enunciate for dramatic purposes. Lesbian had always been one of them, for obvious reasons. However, she only did it in certain settings; in public, she ignored me completely. Even when I was a child she acted like I was a stranger. One time, when I was small, I accidentally knocked over a display in a store. I turned my beet-red face to her. She looked me up and down and said, “You better go find your mother to clean up this mess.” I was devastated.

I squeezed Sarah’s leg to give her some support. She placed her hand on my knee. Peter, technically the host of the meal, stayed out of it and refused to make eye contact. Maybe he felt that, since he was denied the host position at the head of the table, he wasn’t the host after all. Father, seated at the table head, didn’t really accept me anyway, but he appreciated anyone who could ruffle my mother’s feathers so he looked on with a smirk.

“Jesus, Mother! She isn’t a Les-Bi-An. Just because a woman is powerful, doesn’t mean she is gay.”

“That’s obvious.” Mom raised her drink in my direction.

Bravo, Mother. Bravo.

Maddie caught my eye. “Maybe we should start on the entrée? Anyone else hungry?” She stood and started for the kitchen.

“You know me, Maddie. I’m always hungry.” Peter nearly shouted after her as she rushed away. He patted his stomach to emphasize the point. I noticed that, for the first time, it was starting to bulge a little, which made me smile. The only one who didn’t have a belly in our family was The Scotch-lady, but only because she kept to a strict liquid diet.

Chapter Eleven

“Les-Bi-An!” Ethan laughed while saying it. “I can’t believe she said that … and at the dinner table. How rude! No one in my family would say it during dinner.” He continued to giggle.

“Well, we aren’t from the polite south, my friend.” I stared at the hot barista while she made our coffees.
Was I a pig? Or did I just appreciate beauty?

“What did Sarah say about it?” He flipped the pages of a book that sat on the table. It was
The Da Vinci Code
.

“You know that book is riddled with historical inaccuracies.” I gestured to the novel.

“Oh, I know, professor.” He raised one palm in the air. “But somehow I’m persevering. Have you ever looked up the word ‘stodgy’?”

“Hmph!”

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch. Loosen up, Lizzie! Now tell me how Sarah reacted to your mom.” He placated me with a smile.

“To be honest, she was really quiet on the ride home. And when she was getting ready to go shopping with her mom this morning, she barely talked to me.”

“Does she go shopping with her mom every Saturday?” He looked at his phone, its insistent beeping telling him he had a text. “Dammit, I’ve only been here ten minutes and she’s already getting on my case.” He slammed the phone down on the table.

His wife hated that we spent so much time together.

“What do you think her silence means?” he asked while he fired off a text to his wife.

“Got me? Maybe she realized I’m a much bigger challenge than she thought.”

“Or she felt bad for you.” He paused to read his wife’s return text. “Her family is accepting, right? Maybe Sarah doesn’t know what to say to you. She’s been pushing you to let her into your family, and now she sees how they treat you.”

“Maybe. It’s a possibility. But she should know me. I don’t care what they think.” I leaned on the table and propped my chin in my right hand.

“Not at all? Come on, Lizzie, deep down most of us want acceptance, especially from our families.”

I tilted my head in my hand and leered at the barista, ignoring Ethan. Seconds passed and I noticed he followed my gaze.

Ethan casually said, “She looks like your ex.”

Holy shit!
I thought to myself, bolting upright.
He’s right
. She had long blonde hair, deep green eyes, and a beguiling smile. “I thought she looked familiar.”

He laughed. “Maybe Maddie is good for you. Before, you would have made the connection right away and gone on and on about it.” He made limp-wristed circular movements in the air.

“Don’t you mean Sarah?”

“Nope. I mean Maddie. You have been so different these past few weeks‌—‌more relaxed, happier, and easier to talk to. You’ve always opened up after some coaxing, but now you don’t need any prodding.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

My phone beeped. A message flashed up on the screen. “Oh great, Sarah wants me to have dinner with her mom tonight.” I paused before sending a text back.

“Are you going?”

“Don’t see how I can say no. She had to put up with my family last night. Besides, her mom is nice.” I shook my head. “You know me, I just hate family dinners … I’m not good at things like that. Geez, Sarah and I hardly go to dinner, let alone with other people.”

“And you say my marriage is bad.”

I chuckled. “I guess people who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

“Especially you! You wouldn’t hit a thing. How is it you never played softball as a kid? Don’t all dykes play in college? Sorry, I mean
Les-Bi-Ans
.”

His joke caught me by surprise, and chai almost streamed out my nose. It burned like hell.

“Have you been drinking long?” He smirked.

After coffee with Ethan, I decided to hit the Poudre River bike trail. One thing I love about Colorado is that even in late October the weather can be gorgeous. I looked at the mountains to see if any clouds were rolling in, but all I saw was clear blue sky.

For the first ten miles, the vibrancy of the red, orange, and yellow leaves contrasting the lazy river awed me. I had always loved being surrounded by nature. Since it was late in the season, there weren’t too many people out on the trail.

I pulled off the trail at my favorite spot and sat by the river. Sunlight glittered on the ripples of the slow, meandering stream. This time of year, before the winter snow melt, it was more like a dribble. In the spring, it gushed.

Picking up a smooth stone, I tried my best to skim it all the way across. It jumped twice and then sank to the bottom. Infuriated, I tried again. Skip. Skip. Then nothing. I had seen countless fools skip stones here. Why couldn’t I?

“Lizzie, stop it.” My words floated through the thin air.

I picked up another stone, lined it up carefully, and released. Jump. Jump. Then I saw it no more. I laughed mirthlessly at my ineptitude.

Giving up, I sat there, contemplating life, love, and the kind of stuff one thinks about when sitting next to a river, until I noticed the weather beginning to change. A strong gust of wind sent my bike clattering to the ground. My metal water bottled popped out of its holder and clinked as it rolled over the rocks to stop at the river’s edge. The weather could change fast in Colorado at this time of year. Clouds had already started to roll in over the foothills.

Righting my bike, I then jumped on and started the trek home. The wind came in gusts, and when it did, I had to use all of my strength to stay on the bike. At points, the wind picked up my front tire and turned it perpendicular to the rest of the bike. Colorado weather‌—‌you never knew what was going to happen. The saying was, “If you don’t like the weather, wait ten minutes and it will change.”

After struggling for over an hour, I finally made it back to my apartment. As I lifted my bike up onto my shoulders to carry it up the flight of stairs to my apartment, a familiar voice behind me said, “Only you would be crazy enough to go for a ride in this wind.”

I turned my head. “It was beautiful when I left … no wind at all.”

“Oh my gosh, Lizzie, you’re bleeding.” Maddie sounded concerned.

I looked down. Blood dripped from my shin down into my sock. “Yeah, a tree branch hit me. I tried avoiding it, but as you can see”‌—‌I gestured to my shin‌—‌“I wasn’t successful.” I laughed.

She shook her head. “And what about your arm?”

“What?” I looked at my left arm and then my right. Sure enough, my right arm had a gash as well. “I don’t know what happened.” I paused to think. “But that does explain why my arm started to hurt. I just thought my arms were tired from struggling to stay on the bike.”

“You’re a mess. Let’s get you upstairs and get you cleaned up.” She took the bike, lifted it onto her shoulder, and started up the stairs. Her manner told me not to mess with her. When we reached the landing outside my door, she noticed the computer on my bike. “792 miles. Not bad.” She flashed her sexy smile.

At my front door, she put her hand out for my keys. I sighed and handed them to her. She opened the door, hung my bike up, and then turned to me. “All right, I hope you have a first aid kit.”

“I do. You look like you would ream me if I didn’t.” I walked into my bedroom. Maddie followed. It felt weird for a brief moment. Then she followed me into the bathroom.

“Wow! This bathroom is spotless. Who cleans it, you or Sarah?” She eyed me.

“Uh … we have a cleaner. I wipe down the sinks and counter each morning, but the sparkle is Miranda’s doing.” I opened the cabinet under the sink, searching for my first aid kit.

“Peter wants me to hire a cleaner, but, oh, I don’t know … it feels weird to have a stranger in my home.” She fidgeted with some flowers on the counter.