Remember the Time (14 page)

“So. What?”

“So.” Mike turned and walked toward the ladder he’d left on the lawn. “I guess I think of her as a sister.” He wondered if Matt was buying this.

“Hey, if it were me, I’d be thinking second cousin twice-removed.”

Mike headed off in the direction of the backyard. “I’m not paying you to think.”

Matt made a face, and followed his uncle.

T
he work had been going well. On Thursday, as Kate left the house for a lunch date with Sheryl, she circled the house until she found the ladder and Mike.

“I’m leaving,” she called up to him. “Is there anything you need while I’m out?”

“Just your smile, darlin’,” he shouted down.

“That Irish charm will take you only so far in life, Michael Fitzgerald.”

He grinned as she turned and headed for her car, raising her arm in a wave. Mike went back to replacing the fish-scale shingles in the cornice.

“Hey! Uncle Mike?” Matt’s shout reached him from the other side of the house. “Can you come here a minute?”

Mike looked up at Matt, who had been working on the eaves under the tower and now stood next to the window. “What? You find some rot?”

“No. Something a lot more interesting. Come on up.”

Kate leafed through the June 1989 issue of
House and Garden
as she sat in Sheryl’s living room, which doubled as her waiting room when she had clients. She heard
voices coming down the hall. One sounded suspiciously like Donna Estes’s, and she quickly put down the magazine and jumped up to make a run for the bathroom. She wasn’t fast enough, and looked into the pert face of the ex-head-cheerleader.

“Kate!” Donna exclaimed. “What a coincidence. I was just telling Sheryl I needed to call you. And here you are!”

“Donna,” Kate said evenly, eyeing Sheryl over Donna’s shoulder. Sheryl gave Kate a shrug, conveying her deepest sympathies.

Donna, oblivious to the silent signals, said, “You baffled me with that phone call the other night. Was there something you wanted to tell me?”

Kate was the one who looked baffled. “Phone call?”

“Come on, Kate. I know we’re all getting older, but surely you remember calling me?”

“Oh, Christ, I’m sorry, Donna.” The other woman flinched at Kate’s choice of words. “Listen, can I call you later?”

Sheryl picked up the cue and took Donna’s arm. “Kate and I were just going out.” Donna’s head was bobbing up and down as Sheryl showed her out the door.

Sheryl held up her hands before Kate could lay into her. “It’s not my fault. My regular client canceled this morning and Donna just walked in. I couldn’t turn her down.” Kate made a face. As they were walking out the door, Sheryl asked in a conspiratorial tone, “Do you suppose she puts on her outfit and Bill puts on his shoulder pads, and they play the Football Captain and the Cheerleader?”

Kate snickered. “That’s a scary thought.”

“It sure is. I’ve been under the bleachers with Bill.”

Kate’s laughter pealed out across the street.

Mike, his hands shading the sides of his face, peered into the window of the tower room. “Oh, Christ,” he said softly, as he stared at the shrine Kate had built to Paul.

“Amazing, huh?” Matt said excitedly. “She’s got all his stuff in there! How do I get in?”

“You don’t,” Mike answered, straightening up.

“Oh, come on! Can’t I just sneak in—take a look?”

“Not without Kate’s permission.”

“How am I supposed to get her permission if I can’t talk to her about Paul Armstrong?”

“I guess you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, Matt, m’boy.”

“I bet I can get her to show it to me.”

“You say one word to her about this and you can forget about coming back tomorrow. You understand?”

Matt put his hands on his hips and shook his head in disgust, as his uncle climbed back down the ladder.

Paul was right
, Mike thought.
You don’t stand a chance
.

Sheryl and Kate decided on Chinese, and now sat in a booth of the Sunshine Garden sharing a plate of pot stickers.

Kate dipped one of the dumplings into the garlicky brown sauce and bit into it. “I could eat these for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe we should just get another order of these and forget the moo shu pork,” Sheryl said, trying to get her chopsticks around the slippery dough. She finally gave up and picked up the pot sticker with her fingers. “I could lose a lot of weight if I ate with those damned things.”

“Like you need to lose weight.”

Sheryl eyed Kate. “Looks to me like you could gain a few pounds. What the hell do you eat at home?”

Kate shrugged, dismissing the topic, and eyed the last pot sticker.

“It’s yours,” Sheryl said.

“I really like Matt. He seems like a nice kid.”

“Yeah, I’ve pretty much decided to keep him. So, he’s doing a good job?”

Kate nodded, sipping her tea. “He and Mike are working their tails off.”

“Mike’s really enjoying it. He loves that kid.”

Kate leaned back and let Beth, their decidedly non-Chinese waitress, remove the plates from the table. “He looks a lot like you.”

Sheryl grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Beth was back with their lunch. Kate waited impatiently as the college student meticulously spread the thin Chinese pancakes with duck sauce, piled the moo shu in the center, added a few wisps of green onion, and then proceeded to attempt the intricate folding process. Afraid they’d never get to eat, Kate said, “It’s okay, Beth. We’ll take it from here.” A look of relief crossed the girl’s face. “Where was I?” Kate asked.

“You were telling me how much my gorgeous son looks like me.”

“Oh, right.” Kate chewed, swallowed, then said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but where did he get those eyes?”

Sheryl’s own eyes flickered away from Kate’s for an instant, then returned. “Who knows. Some latent gene, I guess.”

“Does he miss his dad much?”

“No, I think he’s doing okay. Don’t get me wrong, Dan is a great father. And Matt loved spending the summer with him, but he’s always been pretty self-sufficient, and Mike’s always been there for him when Dan couldn’t be.”

“Has it been hard for you?”

“The divorce?” Sheryl shook her head. “No, it needed to happen. Dan and I really grew apart. We were married so young …”

The two women ate in silence for a few minutes, then Sheryl said, “Kate? Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Kate concentrated on scooping up the last bit of moo shu pork.

“I mean, I know we’ve never been bosom buddies or anything …”

“Well, I’ve known you for over twenty years, but I’ve just gotten to
know
you since you moved back. I think that qualifies you as some kind of buddy.” Kate smiled slyly. “Although I happen to know you didn’t like me much in high school. I could never figure out why.”

Sheryl waved away Kate’s observation, not wanting to get off course. “It was a long time ago. What I want to know is, how do you feel about Mike?”

Kate’s fork stopped in midair and she stared at Sheryl. “I think I just figured it out. You knew all along how Mike felt about me.”

“Yeah. How come
you
didn’t?”

“Is that what this lunch is about?” Kate put her fork down and it clattered against the plate. “What a dirty trick.”

Sheryl’s face reddened, and she rushed to get the words out before Kate could stop her or, worse, get up and leave. “Kate, you’re all he cares about. He’s crazy about you. I don’t think a day goes by that he doesn’t think or worry about you. I think you both deserve a little happiness at this point. Can’t you give him a chance?”

“I’m happy,” Kate said with false conviction.

“You’re happy? Kate, you’ve cut off all your friends, you sleep on the couch when you sleep at all, you’ve lost interest in everything that ever meant anything to you, and you drink too much … do I need go on?”

“Don’t tell me how to live my life.”

Sheryl sat back in the booth. “What life?” Then, softening her tone, she asked, “Don’t you miss the closeness of someone? Don’t you want to love anyone again?”

Kate’s chin began to quiver and she clamped her jaw tightly to stop it. Her hand nervously kneaded the napkin she was holding.

Sheryl reached across the table and covered her
friend’s hand with her own. “I know you do, Kate. Why won’t you admit it?”

Kate found her voice, and said, “You don’t know anything about me or how I feel.” Fumbling in her purse, she extracted a ten-dollar bill from her wallet and slapped it on the table. “Leave me alone.” She slid out of the booth and stiffly walked out of the restaurant.

Sheryl sighed deeply, put her face in her hands, and whispered, “I tried, Mike.”

Mike looked at his watch for the third time in twenty minutes. It was five o’clock. He had sent Matt home half an hour ago. Where was Kate? He was putting his tools on the back porch when he heard Kate’s phone ringing, and he stepped into the kitchen to answer it.

“Mike?”

Hearing his sister’s voice, Mike said, “Where did you guys go for lunch? Richmond?”

“She’s not home yet?”

“No, and I was just getting ready to leave. Is Kate on her way?”

“The last time I saw her she was throwing money at me and walking out of the restaurant. She didn’t even eat her fortune cookie. You know what it said? ‘Fortunes come and go, but friendships last forever.’ ” She chuckled mirthlessly.

“What happened?”

“Let’s just say it didn’t go well, and leave it at that.”

“Let’s not.”

After Sheryl’s summary of her luncheon fiasco, Mike said, “I think I know where to find her.”

“Don’t do it, Mike. She definitely wants to be left alone. She’ll come home after you leave. Count on it.” She paused. “I’m sorry, Mike. I thought I could help, but she’s impossible to talk to.”

“She needs time.”

“She’s
had
time,” Sheryl said harshly. “She doesn’t care about anyone but herself.”

Mike’s sarcastic “Thanks for your insights” ended the phone call.

Kate let herself into the back entrance of the shop and stood in the small kitchen, waiting for her eyes to adjust. She didn’t want to turn on any lights. Didn’t want to lose the blanket of protection the dark provided. There was no moon, but she began to see faint outlines of shapes with the help of a streetlamp in the back parking lot. Feeling her way along the counter, she found a mug and filled it with tap water. She wished for a glass of wine.

She’d spent the afternoon meandering along the Skyline Drive on the Blue Ridge Parkway. But it had been a gray day, and the heavy fog brought her back into the valley sooner than she wanted. Her mood hadn’t improved, and at four-thirty she’d stopped at the Blue Bottle, a small cocktail lounge in Waynesboro, and ordered a glass of rosé. An hour later, she’d had three glasses. She then drove to the shop, knowing Cindy had closed it up at six. She didn’t see any point in going home.

The slow-motion, what-the-hell feeling from the wine had worn off, leaving her cold and dry-mouthed. Finishing off the water, Kate made her way out of the kitchen and into the small back room she and Cindy used as a lounge. Kate curled up on the old plaid sofa, pulled a quilt over her, and using her coat as a pillow, tried to close her eyes. But it was early, and sleep wouldn’t come. Kate lay in the dark, eyes open, listening to the night sounds of the old building. Fifteen minutes passed. An eternity. A cold eternity. The automatic thermostat had obviously downshifted to its nighttime setting of 55 degrees.

A high-pitched chirping echoed through the shop, startling Kate. The phone was ringing and she knew who was calling. It stopped after nine rings. She turned to
face the back of the couch, pulling herself into a tighter ball. The hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen stopped with a mechanical clack and silence enveloped her. A sharp, scrabbling sound reached her ears. A mouse—a rat?—in one of the kitchen cupboards. She closed her eyes tightly, wishing she could start this day again.

Don’t you want to love anyone again?

Her brain screamed
“No!”

Trying to clear her mind, she scrunched her eyes shut and silently repeated the words,
“Don’t think … don’t think.”
It was a trick she’d used since her teens, but it didn’t seem to work anymore.

“You promised … you promised we’d be together always.”

Kate knew how childish the words sounded. How naïve they were. When would this pain go away? What was wrong with her, that she couldn’t leave it behind?

“Don’t you miss the closeness?”

The voice in her head shouted,
“Yes, damn it!”

“Stop it!” she said aloud. “Don’t think!”

She wanted to talk to someone who’d listen to her problems. She wanted to talk to the friend who’d always been her touchstone. But how could she? Mike had become the problem. How could he possibly listen now?

Now that she knew how he felt about her, how could she talk about Paul without hurting Mike? Oh, God, she was lost without his down-to-earth advice; his knowing just when to make a joke. She already missed the way he rode her when her stubbornness threatened to cease being a good thing. Kate wanted to go home. She wanted the warm cocoon that a drink provided; the dreamless sleep it gave her.

The phone was ringing again, and she let it. He knew her so well. Damn it! Mike knew everything about her.

And she wanted … 
“Why don’t you admit it?” …
him.

Her eyes flew open.

Locking the shop door behind her, she turned to the near empty parking lot. A frost had settled, making the
pavement sparkle under the streetlamp. The leather soles of her boots fought to get a grip on the slick asphalt as she made her way to her car. The wipers and the car heater made quick work of the feathery ice on the windshield, and she drove home through the deserted streets of Staunton.

The kitchen light was on when she let herself in. A note was propped up against a mug in the middle of the table.

I fed Homer. You know where I am if you need me. Mike

She quickly dialed his number, before she could change her mind. After the fifth ring she gave up.