A Summer in Sonoma (12 page)

“Shoot,” she said, taking another sip.

“Why aren't you married with three kids?”

She turned to look at him. “What makes you think I want to be?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was just wondering.”

“Why would you ask?” she returned.

He shrugged. “You're so easy to be with. Nice. Funny and sweet. And if you don't mind me saying so, you're awful pretty. Seems like there'd be no break in your action for a bike ride.”

She tipped her head down and laughed. “Walt, I have a real bad dating history. Mostly jerks and creeps. And that last one could've been real dangerous if you hadn't accidentally been there. I have rotten luck with men.”

“Whoa, Cassie,” he said. “That's unbelievable. You should have a long line of men just waiting for you to give 'em a chance. Good men. I sure can't figure that out.”

“Thanks, that's sweet. I'm not sure why, either. I've thought a lot about that lately. Maybe it's me. Maybe I have a problem with wanting the right guy too much…. You know what I mean. I have friends who married real young, friends who just aren't interested in marriage at all. But I don't have any friends who have been like me—always looking for Mr. Right and coming up with nothing but Mr. Wrong. I think sometimes I know in my gut that he's Mr. Wrong and, out of sheer blind hope, I shut off my brain and ignore the truth.” She looked at him
and her eyes twinkled. “Don't know why I'd do that,” she said, shaking her head. “It's a perfectly good brain.”

“It is,” he agreed. “I could tell pretty
quick
.”

“So, I'm through with all that. No more looking. I'm resigned.”

“Resigned?” he echoed.

She took a breath. “I guess if it happens along, fine. But the next one is going to have to hit me over the head with a club and drag me away—I won't be looking, hoping, wanting that so much. That last little mishap of mine really got my attention. Whew. That was scary. I think on some level I must have known he was a phony. There was just something about him that didn't add up. I didn't know him well enough, but he looked good on paper, as we girls like to say.”

“On paper?” Walt asked, frowning.

She sighed. “He said he worked for the fire department and I've come to trust the fire department. He was polite, decent-looking, had a good-paying job, filled the basic criteria. I've always skimmed the surface. Maybe I moved too fast because it was so important to have…” She didn't finish; it was embarrassing how much she'd always wanted a man in her life, a family of her own. “So, that part of my life is over. I've been going about this all wrong. It's time to focus on my life, my independent life. After all, it's not a bad life.”

“I like that idea. But what convinced you to take a chance on me? On a motorcycle, yet?” he asked.

“You're different,” she said, putting a hand on his forearm, right on the naked lady. “You've turned into a
pretty good friend. You helped me out of a tight spot, your brother's P.D. and I know you understand why I'm not interested in more than friendship.”

“Just out of curiosity, what've you been looking for? In a guy.”

“I don't know,” she said. “Somebody permanent. Reliable. Trustworthy.” Then she grinned and added. “Good-looking, decent future, wants kids, adores me…” But in the back of her mind a little voice taunted,
Male and breathing
…

“Very reasonable,” he said, smiling.

“I always had a rule about men—and I ignored it over and over again. If he's nice to you but mean to the waiter, he's not a nice person.”

“Huh?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

“There are lots of people who can be nice when they want to be, when they're after something. But at some point their true colors come out—when they're getting a haircut, ordering a meal, having the car washed. When they snip and pick and criticize and…well, you know.” Uh-oh, she suddenly thought—Walt is nice to the waiter, nice to everyone. But no…she liked Walt, but not in that way.

“Yeah. I know,” he said.

“So, I ignored the rule. I'd see a sign and blow right through it, hoping a relationship would work. It usually didn't take long for the guy to treat me just as bad—no returned calls, I became invisible…and my heart would be in pieces, over and over. I'm all done doing that. First, I'm not dating, period. Second, if I ever dip into the
market again, I'm going to be very careful and pay better attention.”

“You ought to,” he said. “You should have the best, that's all.”

“Right,” she agreed. She realized that there was something about Walt; she kept telling him things she didn't tell anyone other than Julie, not even her other girlfriends. “So what's your story?” she asked.

“My story?” he repeated.

“With women? Been serious? Engaged? Have a million broken hearts in your past like me? What?”

He just laughed. “Cassie, I hardly ever date. I stay busy with the bikes, the stores. I mean, in the grand scheme of things what I do isn't much, but it can tie up a lot of hours every day, every week. There have been one or two women I kind of rode with a time or two…”

“When you say you rode with them, is that biker talk for slept with them?”

“Actually, that's biker talk for taking a bike ride together.”

“Oh,” she said, laughing. “So. You're a virgin?”

“It's not as bleak as that. But there's no one. I guess I'm in the same place as you—nothing turned up and I quit looking. I really love what I do. I'm real happy. It's a pretty simple life, but it works for me.”

Oh, she thought, he's good for me. I want to be in exactly that place.

He drank a little coffee and looked out over the hills. Then he turned back to her. “You watching the time?” he asked.

“Nah. I'm fine.”

“If you're not in a hurry, there are vineyards in the valley. Tasting rooms and restaurants. You're probably not hungry yet, but you might be later.”

“You're going to feed me till I'm big as that bull!”

“Not a chance. And anyway, even if you got big as that bull, you'd still be beautiful.” He pulled himself up to his feet. “You ready?”

“Ready,” she said, putting her hand in his so he could help her up.

She got back on the bike; they went higher into the hills where the views were even more majestic, stopped a few times, then started a slow and frightening descent. But Cassie wasn't nervous about the altitude or the fact that she was on the back of a bike. She loved hanging on to Walt because he was so solid, so big. It made her feel anchored. He made her feel safe.

They stopped in the valley, visited a couple of vineyards where Cassie tasted some wine and Walt insisted on buying her two bottles. They finally wound up at a nice, quiet, elegant vineyard restaurant that they entered in dusty jeans, all road worn and wind beaten. Walt was greeted as if he was a preferred client. “But I thought you'd given up drinking?” she asked him. “The wine here has alcohol in it, you know.”

“I have an occasional drink or glass of wine, maybe a beer,” he said. “I didn't mean to mislead you about that—I knocked off for a few years. I don't think I'm in any danger of overdoing it again. I never drink alcohol when I'm riding. If I'm driving my truck, I might have
something with a meal and a coffee chaser. I'm a lot more careful now. I was lucky—never had a bad accident. It wasn't just about drinking too much, Cassie. I took a lot of stupid chances back then. But like I said, I took a hint.”

“And you've obviously been here before.”

“Several times,” he said. “I'll get a couple of good bottles for the folks. They like that.”

“What do your folks do?” she asked.

“Well, my dad's involved in different businesses now. He started out as a grocer and my mom was a special ed teacher and over time they started buying rental houses, which ended up being a good investment for them. California real estate was out of sight when they started selling. If I bring 'em a couple bottles of good wine, they love it. You keeping track of your schedule?” he asked for at least the fifth time.

“I think I'm a no-show at Julie's,” she said. “No big deal. They don't keep tabs on me. I'd rather have dinner here.”

“They won't worry?” he asked.

“Nah. Like I said, I'm welcome any time I'm free. And guess what? I'm totally exhausted.”

“Told you,” he said. “It's not like exercise, but it sure feels like it at the end of the day.”

“I guess I can see why you love it. It's very freeing. Exhilarating.”

He smiled. “Your cheeks are awful pink.”

“Might be the wine,” she said.

“Might be the wine and the ride,” he said.

“I've noticed something about you,” she said. “The first night I saw you, you looked so scary I wasn't sure which one of you guys to run from. Your arms were crossed over your chest, you had this terrifying scowl on your face…”

“I think I've perfected that,” he acknowledged with a chuckle.

“But you haven't looked like that since. Your face is…open. Kind. Very sweet. Everyone likes you, feels comfortable around you.”

He reached across the table and held her hand. “Cassie, I didn't want any trouble with that guy. It just looked like you needed some help. That was wrong.”

“So it was an act?”

He lifted his hand, still in a cast. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I could've been mean. It's not my first choice.”

She laughed. “You're at least two people,” she said.

“I'm just one guy, Cassie. I just happen to be multipurpose.”

After dinner, riding home in the dark was amazing, with the lights of the city welcoming them, drawing them closer. Cassie actually hated it when they left the back roads and got on the freeway, becoming nothing but commuters again as opposed to adventurers. Too soon they were pulling into her neighborhood. She was spent—full on good food, windburned, tired to the bone.

Cassie realized she might have stumbled into something fantastic—a best friend of the male persuasion. Like a girlfriend in a great big man suit. Being with him
was a little like coming home. He felt like family, like a best buddy. For once she was trusting someone she knew in her gut was absolutely trustworthy. She hadn't looked at his résumé before going off for a day with him on a bike, but she knew he didn't look that good on paper. He wasn't her type, he didn't have a good job, he wasn't great-looking and he hadn't been searching for the right woman.

He walked her to her door and she slipped off the jacket, handing it back to him. “Will you sell this as a used garment now?” she asked.

“Why don't you keep it handy for our next ride?”

“Walt, this is very expensive,” she informed him again.

“Looks real good on you, too,” he said. “You should really have it, but I think I can get a couple more rides out of it first.”

“You're totally nuts,” she laughed. “You don't give out things like this on a motorcycle mechanic's salary.”

“I might sell you a bike, get a commission,” he said. He grinned at her and she found herself thinking she hadn't seen such a warm and wonderful smile in all her looking, all her prowling. When he smiled like that and his blue eyes twinkled, he wasn't that bad-looking. “It'll guilt you into a couple more rides,” he said. “I had a good day, Cassie.”

“I did, too,” she said. “It was fun. I never expected it to be so…nice.”

He never took the jacket. He handed her the two bottles of wine and, while her arms were full, he put a big hand on her waist, right on her love handle, pulled
her closer, leaned down and gently pressed his lips against hers. She let him do this without once remembering she wasn't interested. The feel of him, smell of him, taste of him was very agreeable and she leaned against him, slowly exhaling as he kissed her. But he didn't take too much of her. Just a brief, delightful kiss, then he pulled back.

“Just friends,” she said in a whisper.

“Nothing like a friendly little kiss,” he said.

“I can't be friends with you if you're getting ideas….”

“Don't worry about that, Cassie. You're in charge. And we get along pretty well. I'll call.” He turned away from her. She still held the jacket and wine as he walked down her drive to his bike. As he drove away, she cuddled the wine and the jacket close to her chest.

W
alt had always been a man of few words, a big, quiet, mostly serious guy. Cassie seemed to get the conversation rolling off his tongue and he loved that. Time with her was amazing to him; it seemed to fly. After a couple of long coffee dates, dinner and a Sunday ride into Sonoma, he began calling her just to say hello, to catch up on the day. He hadn't done anything like that in longer than he could remember. And it's not as if they were jumping off the phone real fast, either.

He could tell Cassie was enjoying their time together, as well, and also that she had no idea what to make of him, what to do with him. Here was this prim and proper little nurse, probably used to dating doctors or at least golfers, spending time with this big scruffy biker. He was sure he didn't look like any of her other friends; it was probably going to be a long time before she sprung
him on them, if ever, afraid they'd think she was crazy. The first time they were book browsing, he suspected she was surprised he could read.

Cassie needed to move real slow for obvious reasons, but that had very little to do with Walt's behavior. He took his time because that was his nature. He knew in ten minutes Cassie was special. She was sweet and funny. And so beautiful, with her pale ivory skin, rosy cheeks, red lips and large brown eyes. And her hair—it was thick and straight and so shiny, flowing down her back almost to her waist. She braided it and wound it around her head for work and tied it in some kind of knot for riding—a knot she could release with one tug and let fall down her back in a silky sheet. He'd been wanting to touch her hair to see if it was as soft as it looked, but he pretty much kept his hands to himself. There had been that one kiss, and he hoped for many more.

It was only because of Cassie and the fact that he was fond of her the second he met her that he asked Kevin to check out that license plate number three weeks ago. Kevin had called the very next day and told him the vehicle was registered to Ralph Perkins.

Naturally, Walt asked, “He a paramedic?”

Kevin answered, “I'm not saying any more than his name, which you said would be in the vault, but I'll look into this a little further.”

Walt got two things from that short response. First, it would have been easy to say he wasn't with the fire department, thus removing him from a relatively small group and lumping him with a million other men. After
all, Walt had already intimated the guy had played off Cassie's conversation, made up a simple lie to gain her trust, setting her up. And second, there were very few reasons for Kevin to look into something that didn't even happen in his jurisdiction, unless he suspected it just wasn't right. Kevin was a Rancho Cordova cop— Cassie's close call had occurred in Sacramento, Rancho's neighbor. Kevin was a busy patrol officer; he didn't have a lot of extra time for things that weren't important. And he hadn't been all that excited about the story in the first place. Maybe something was up.

So Walt called the fire department and said that a man he worked with had a fire and the firefighters had been just fantastic—one in particular. Walt said he wasn't sure which firehouse had responded that day, but the man he was looking for was named Ralph Perkins and he'd like to thank him. It took only a few seconds. He was told the man worked out of the northwest area.

Since he floated between four stores on a regular basis, Walt looked up a map of firehouses in that area and began taking very brief detours to drive by some of them. It only took a couple of weeks and some luck to spot that teal-blue Tahoe parked outside one of them. At least it was a long way from where Cassie lived. It was the end of July; the weather was hot and humid. Often the firehouse door was standing open. Walt had taken to driving by that firehouse often, sometimes twice in a day. If that teal-blue Tahoe was in the lot, sometimes he'd sit out there a while, across the street, and just watch. Wait.

Walt was very conscious of what he'd promised Kevin; he would not approach or engage the guy. But Walt knew how he looked—big and dangerous. His style alone suggested he had disreputable affiliations, which he did not. It couldn't do any harm for Perkins to think Walt could bring the whole local Hells Angels club to his aid in a second, though even if he could, he wouldn't. At the least, it wouldn't be a bad idea for Ralph Perkins to see he was there. One of these days Perkins would be working on the rig or the fire truck would be leaving the station and he wouldn't miss a great big biker with a cast on his right arm sitting outside. It was a good idea for Perkins to know Walt was on to him, because if he ever went near Cassie again, if he ever threatened her or hurt or scared her, he was going to be so sorry.

That's when Walt figured he was probably sunk. He was hooked on her bad. A guy had to be real careful when something like that happened; it was tempting to try to figure out what the woman wanted most and fit himself into it. It was a huge mistake to do that. When people tried to change to please other people, lots of things went wrong. At the very least, it was hard to guess right—things could be made worse instead of better. At its most destructive, the woman could be attracted to the wrong man, an imposter.

Walt was stubbornly himself. This was who he was; this life worked for him. It brought him a lot of personal satisfaction and he felt good about his work, the quality of his life. He could already tell she liked him. If her feelings were going to grow stronger, they would have
to be for the real Walt—big and hairy and dedicated to bikes and the open road.

But he wasn't above working at it a little. The next time he called her, after asking about her day, he said, “How about this weekend, Cassie? We could take off in a different direction this time.”

“Oh, Walt, I'm sorry,” she said. “I have to work. Hospitals don't shut down on weekends and holidays.”

“I admit, I haven't really figured out your schedule yet, except that you're on the day shift.”

“It's not easy to keep track of. I work every other weekend and half the holidays. I've been there five years now, so I can actually score a big holiday sometimes—like New Year's Day, which makes it possible to stay up late on New Year's Eve. But that means working Christmas Day. We have to share the load.”

“Kind of sucks, I guess,” he said.

She laughed at him. “It's not as bad as it could be. Our doctors don't take many days off. E.R. docs don't do rounds, don't have patients admitted they have to watch over, so their schedules are a little more flexible, but on every other service the doctors are checking in by five, six in the morning almost every day, holidays included. Their families complain constantly.”

“I hadn't thought about that. So, you have any days off coming up?”

“Sorry. Until next weekend, I have only Wednesday and Thursday.”

“How'd you like to go for a ride on Thursday?”

“Aren't you working?”

“Trust me, I put in so much time that if I want a day, no one asks any questions. But, hey, I'm not trying to corner you. Only if you feel like it. I was thinking of driving up Highway 1, north of San Francisco along the coast. Maybe along some beach.”

“Really? God, that sounds nice. It's been so hot lately.”

“Nice and cool along the ocean. A lot of great fish places to stop and eat.”

“I'd love to do that,” she said. “But I don't want you in trouble with work.”

“I wouldn't worry about that,” he laughed. “I'm in charge of my own schedule.”

“You are?”

“Everyone there knows I come in whenever I'm needed. If Thursday isn't a special day at the store, I'll be with you. Riding up the coast.”

 

Julie sat on the exam table in her paper gown, swinging her bare feet. It seemed as if she waited forever for Beth to open the door. “Hey,” she said brightly. “I didn't know I'd be seeing you today. How are you?”

“Pregnant,” Julie said, looking down at her knees for a moment. She smiled emotionally, fighting tears. “What else is new, huh?”

“Uh-oh. You don't look thrilled.”

Instantly the tears ran over. “Beth, this couldn't come at a worse time….”

Beth immediately went into doctor mode. She sat on the little stool and balanced the chart on her knee. “What's the matter, Jules?”

“Another accident. My
fourth
accident. No one gets pregnant as easily as me. I'm a broodmare. I should breed for a living. We've used everything. This time it's an IUD!”

“Are you sure you're pregnant?”

“Oh, I'm sure,” she said. “I spent all morning going through the checkbook, looking for an error in my favor. We're completely strapped. Billy works on all his days off. We fight. I throw up every morning. We have a house full of kids, money is nonexistent—we'll never get ahead, we're so far behind already…. I was just thinking that when Clint gets in kindergarten next year I could put Stephie in day care and go back to work and maybe we'd have a fighting chance.” She sniffed. “Beth, I'm at the end of my rope.”

“You do a home pregnancy test?” Beth asked.

“I don't have to. I can tell you exactly how far along I am. I'm the most regular woman in California.”

“That isn't always a diagnosis,” Beth said, smiling patiently. “I might want a second opinion.”

“You want proof? Help yourself. I'm pregnant. Six weeks. And I'm thinking about… What if instead of having a baby, I made Billy have that vasectomy?”

Beth laughed. “That wouldn't really stop you from having the baby, Jules.”

“Can we please not call in the nurse?” Julie asked, reclining on the table. Her feet found the stirrups by habit. “Can we do this, just you and me? Because I'm truly screwed up with this one.”

“Sure,” Beth said. “Special privileges. Now, besides money, what's the problem?”

“What is there besides money?” Julie asked. “You know when we were all at lunch? Well, Billy decided to try to impress me by helping out. He was going to fix the gutter that was breaking off from the eave. He'd only had a few hours of sleep, had been up most of the twenty-four hours before, was too tired to being doing chores like that and he fell off the ladder.”

Beth stopped what she was doing and her head snapped up. “He okay?”

“He's fine—luckily he didn't hurt himself. But that really got my attention. What if he got hurt on the job? We'd be so screwed. What if something even worse happened? I wouldn't even be able to keep the house. We're barely hanging on to it now. How would I raise my kids? On welfare?”

“Are you sure things are really that bad, Jules?”

“That bad,” she said. “No one knows this—I've been late on a lot of mortgage payments. I've totally missed two. I keep expecting them to come and arrest me or something.” Julie put the back of her hand on her forehead. “I try not to bitch about it all the time. Cassie thinks I have the world by the balls with my sweet, good-looking husband and all these kids. Marty just wouldn't get it. She might want a little more attention out of Joe, but if I had her problems, I'd manage, believe me. I'd just hose him down and enjoy my boat.”

Beth found the gloves; the speculum was laid out.

“I don't want to be pregnant right now!” Julie blurted.

“Now that I understand,” Beth said. “Sooner or later, you should put a stop to this. You have a record.”

“Boy, do I.”

“Let's get the facts, okay? Slide down for me.” Beth did what she was trained to do. She inserted the speculum, positioned her lamp and had a look at the cervix, which had the nice blue tinge common in early pregnancy. Yup, girlfriend here didn't need the test. She pulled out the hardware and measured the uterus with her hands, fingers inside and pressing down on her lower abdomen with her fingertips. “My, my—you're very good at this. Feels like you have a touch of pregnancy. Let's have a look.” She flipped the switch on the ultrasound machine.

In a couple of minutes Beth was able to insert the transvaginal probe for a good view, and there in Julie's womb was a tiny mass, a beating heart and an IUD.

“There you go,” she said to Julie. “Alive and pumping. You're something else, you know that?”

“I'm a machine. God,” she said, silent tears sliding out of her eyes. “Is it my imagination or does she have that thing in her grip? And is she laughing at me?”

“She?”

“Billy said a girl would even us out. I think it might put me in a straitjacket.”

“Billy's not upset about this?”

“I think he's strutting. I want to kill him. He just doesn't take it seriously, because he's not the one juggling the bills. He doesn't know I have to decide every payday which ones I don't pay….”

“Did you talk to him about not having it?”

She shook her head and the tears came harder. “He
thinks we should just go with it. But, Beth, he's a fool. I take care of the money because he just doesn't have the time. I tell him how bad it is, but he just keeps saying it won't be a struggle forever. He has a degree, I'm sure he could do something that brings in a better living, but he wants to be a firefighter. It's his life choice, as he calls it. It's noble, and I'm proud of him, I am, but we're starving.”

“You're not starving,” Beth said.

“We're
starving!
There's nothing left over at the end of the month. We get by on tuna, mac and cheese, peanut butter and jelly and soup made out of scraps. Sometimes I have to scrounge around at my mom's and I feel like a vagrant living out of trash cans. I buy the cheapest of everything. I cut so many corners my life is a circle. I don't know how long I can do this. I feel like I lost my life.”

“What life did you lose?” Beth asked.

“Don't ask me that,” she said, putting the back of her hand over her eyes. “The answer is shameful. Even to me.”