Empty Arms: A Novel (21 page)

T
HE KNOCK ON THE DOOR
startles me. “Antonio’s,” the muffled voice says.

I peer through the eyehole. A short Mexican guy is standing there with a pizza box. I unchain the door and open it. The poor guy is soaked but when he takes the pizza out of his carrying case, it’s dry as a bone and hot from the oven. It smells delicious and I add a couple of extra bucks to his tip for his trouble.

I set the pizza on the bed next to the map. I’m so hungry, I feel like I could eat the whole thing. I moan when I take the first bite and the sauce and cheese ooze onto my tongue. I wonder if James has ever eaten at Antonio’s. He used to love pizza, but he didn’t understand why none of the pizza shops in Pennsylvania served it with salsa and hot chilies on top. “Because that’s gross,” I explained.

“One day, when you come to Texas, I’m going to take you out for Bandito pizza.”

Twenty-three years ago I agreed to that promise because it seemed unlikely that I’d ever make it to Texas. But now that I’m here, I can’t help but hope that tomorrow I’ll finally get to take him up on that offer.

W
ATER RUSHES PAST ME
, crashing against river rocks. Crows caw overhead. “Hello?” I call, but no one responds. I run along the riverbank. Broken glass tears at the bottom of my feet. A dark shadow stands at the river’s edge. It’s James. He turns when he hears me approaching and walks toward me. He pulls me into him. His lips are soft, just as I remember them, and his breath is hot against my neck.

“I have to tell you something,” I say, but his lips smother the words. I run my hands through his hair as he kisses my collarbone. “We have a daughter,” I blurt out in the heat of the moment.

He stops and looks at me. His eyes are a nightmare. He turns and dives into the river.

I reach for him but he disappears beneath the surface.

W
HEN A CAR ALARM
wakes me, the dream is still fresh in my mind. It’s not even six o’clock. I roll over and try to force myself back to sleep, but the thought of seeing James after all these years unglues me. How will he react when he sees me? What will he say when I tell him about Emily?

As I shower and dress, I wonder what he’s like now. Is his hair still long and black? Is his body still strong and lean or has his stomach softened and started to frown over his waistband? Does his skin still smell like rosemary and sage? I try to imagine what he might look like, but all I can come up with is the boy with amber eyes who told me I was beautiful.

T
HE SUN IS PERCHED HIGH
in the sky as I drive down El Indio Highway past pumpjacks and adobe-style houses. Yesterday’s downpour would’ve caused the rivers to crest and streets to flood back home, but here not even a puddle remains. In fact, most of the grass is brown and struggling to grow in the hard-caked soil. The dusty streets make it look like this place hasn’t seen rain in months.

I slow down when I see a diner, but my stomach is a tangle of nerves, and food is the last thing I want. I continue down the road until I come to Desert Lane. I turn into the neighborhood, and my pulse spikes as I roll past stucco facades and terra-cotta roofs. Sprinklers sway in front yards, their rainbow mists trying to revive the struggling lawns.

I pass the first two streets and slow to a stop at the intersection of Grange Road even though there’s not a stop sign. A car that I hadn’t noticed swerves around me and accelerates in annoyance. I take a deep breath. What the hell am I doing? Would James even remember me? I may remember every detail about him, but the past twenty-three years of his life haven’t revolved around what happened that summer. He returned to Texas, and when he didn’t hear from me, he moved on with his life. He doesn’t know about Emily, and there’s a very good chance he’s forgotten all about me. I think of the voice that answered his phone and wonder if I’m about to throw his entire world off its axis.

I look in the rearview mirror. Cars are rushing up and down El Indio Highway. It’s not too late for me to turn around and disappear into the traffic. I consider it, but I already know where that path leads, so I turn down Grange Road instead.

I stop across the street from number 1527. The house is the color of sand, and a stone walkway leads up to the front door. A few feet away, a ladder is resting against the roof near a section of missing downspout, probably the result of last night’s storm. One of the garage doors is open, and I can see a black Camaro tucked inside next to the empty space. It’s newer than the one he used to have, but it looks like something that would belong to him.

A man with short black hair emerges from the garage carrying a tool box. He’s wearing a burnt orange Texas Longhorns T-shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. He walks across the lawn to the ladder; his stride is unmistakable. He looks up at the gutter, which has pulled away from the soffit and droops like a broken arm. He crouches next to his tool box, and it reminds me of the first time I saw him on the side of the road.

I open the door and get out. “Excuse me,” I call, crossing the street.

He glances over his shoulder. When he notices me approaching, he stands up and walks toward me. He’s taller than I remember, broader too. The soft edges of youth have become more defined; his jaw line is strong, and the angles of his face are unyielding, like granite. His hair is shorter than it used to be, but it still shines like onyx, and only his sideburns give away his age.

When he recognizes my face, he stops in his tracks. “Cate?”

I nod and my face breaks into a huge smile.

His lips curl into the smile I remember. He runs across the yard and scoops me up with a hearty laugh. I wrap my arms around his neck and a familiar musk inches up my nose, causing all the memories to come rushing back.

“What on earth are you doing here?” he asks, setting me down. His eyes still glow like they used to, and they draw me in.

“I came to see you.”

He tilts his head with a flattered smile. “Really?”

I nod. “I need to talk to you.”

“After all these years?”

“I know it’s been a long time, but I recently discovered something in my parents’ attic.” I pull the stack of letters out of my purse and hand them to him.

“What is this?”

“These are the letters I wrote to you after you left.”

His smile fades like a setting sun. “But you never wrote to me.” Even after all these years, there is still a whisper of resentment.

“Yes, I did. I wrote you all of these letters, but my mother took them out of the mailbox before the mailman picked them up. I recently found them in her attic.”

“What about the letters I sent you?”

“She intercepted those too.” I shake my head. “All these years, I never knew you wrote to me.”

He kicks a chunk of dirt and sends it careening into the street. “Well, that explains a lot. I thought you just forgot about me.”

“I thought the same thing.”

He pushes a hand through his hair. “I don’t understand. Why would she do that?”

I stare down at the struggling grass between our boots. “Because she didn’t want you to know the truth.”

“The truth about what?”

“That’s what I came here to tell you.” I take a deep breath and summon all the courage I can find. “After you left, I got sick. At first I thought I was lovesick.”

Amusement tugs at his lips.

“When I didn’t get better, I thought I had the flu. But it went on for weeks.”

His smirk disappears and his eyes fill with concern.

“By the beginning of October, I realized I was pregnant.”

The color drains out of his face and he stumbles backward. He walks toward the ladder with hands on his hips and then back to me. “Are you telling me we have a child?”

“Yes. We have a daughter.” The moment the words cross my lips a weight is lifted from my shoulders. Whatever happens now doesn’t matter, at least James finally knows the truth.

He paces across the front yard with his fingers laced behind his head. “What’s her name?” he asks, stopping in front of me again.

“Emily. At least, that’s how I think of her. I don’t know her real name.”

“What do you mean? Did you give her up for adoption?” It’s not judgment in his tone but sadness.

“It wasn’t what I wanted, but I didn’t have a choice. They made me do it.”

“They?”

“The medical staff and my parents. That’s why my mother stole the letters. She wanted me to think you had abandoned me.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.” My eyes fall to the white longhorn on his chest, but all I can see is the storage closet I labored in. “I never felt more alone in my whole life.”

He pulls me into his chest and rests his cheek on top of my head. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers into my hair.

“Me too.”

“Have you ever tried to find her?”

“I recently started searching, but I haven’t had much luck.” I think of my dream.
We have to find her.
“I was hoping you might want to help me.”

He drops his arms suddenly and his hands dive for his pockets. A car engine hums behind me. I turn around just as a white minivan pulls into the driveway and parks in the empty space in the garage. James waves to the woman inside. He turns back to me with alarm in his eyes. “She can’t know.”

His words rip my heart out. “I understand.”

“Hi,” the woman calls from the garage. I turn toward the sound of the voice that answered the phone, and my eyes settle not on the beautiful Native American woman with long black hair and smooth tan skin, but on the child in her arms. The boy is barely one, but he’s got a head full of dark hair and James’s arresting eyes. He points a chubby finger at me and then sticks his thumb in his mouth.

“Just giving directions,” James calls.

She takes the baby’s arm and waves to us and then disappears into the house.

“I don’t know what to say,” he says in a low voice.

“It’s okay,” I reassure him, but I can’t help but wonder why I wasn’t lucky enough to have this life with him.

“I’m sorry you thought I abandoned you all those years ago. Had I known …” He looks skyward as the scenario plays out in his head.

“Would you have come back for us?” I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer either way.

“Of course I would have.” His eyes are overflowing with kindness. “I loved you, you know.”

I nod and bite my lip. “I loved you too.”

He takes my hands. “But I’ve moved on, and this would destroy her.” He nods to the place where his wife was standing.

I let myself look into his eyes even though tears are brewing in mine. “I understand.” My voice shakes and a tear slips down my cheek. “I just wanted you to know the truth.”

He catches my tear with his finger. “Thank you for coming all this way to tell me. I can’t imagine this was easy for you.” He glances back toward the house and then gives me a hug. “Take care of yourself, Cate.”

“You too,” I say, turning away from him before any more tears can escape, but they spring from my eyes like a broken pipe the second I close the car door.

James waves to me as I drive off. The last time we said goodbye, he put his finger under my chin and drew my face toward him until our eyes and lips were only an inch apart. “We’ll see each other again,” he’d said. It was a promise, not a question. But now, as our eyes connect in my rearview mirror, I know it’s for the last time.

T
HE REST OF PAUL
’
S STUFF
is gone when I return from Texas. A note on the counter says that he’s renting an apartment across town and lists his address and phone number in case of an emergency. There’s a message from Mom on the answering machine, but I delete it the moment I hear her voice. I walk into the den and flop onto the couch, staring at the empty space where the recliner and big-screen TV used to be.

“I’m back to square one,” I tell Melody when I call to tell her about my trip. “Paul is gone, James has moved on, and finding Emily is impossible.”

“Why do you sound like you’re giving up?”

I snort. “Because I might as well. This is hopeless.”

“You’ve run into some dead ends, but you’ve got to keep trying. Isn’t finding Emily worth it?”