Avoiding Mr. Right (12 page)

In the middle of the night I awake, the warmth of Carla snuggled against me, her head
under my chin. I breathe in the lingering scent of her shampoo, a light floral aroma.
My breath rustles the bangs near her forehead and a soft mew of contentment spills
from her.

It feels like a dream come true to finally have her in my arms. All the months of
carefully waiting for her to notice me and the contrived questions about accounts
so we could talk… all of it led to this night. And if I could change a thing, I wouldn’t.

If we had experienced a good night of sex that first time together she probably would
have shifted me into some type of fuck-buddy role and I never would have ventured
past her emotional walls. I run a hand over her smooth back, reveling in the satiny
feel of her skin. A smile spreads across my face in the darkness—no sign of her prickly
defenses now.

The intensity of my release and temporary loss of control from last night comes back
to me, stirring my cock to life. Damn, that was hot. She’s a passionate woman when
she lets herself be in the moment. I tilt my face to her forehead and place a kiss
against her bangs, wondering if I can stealthily wake her up…

I cough, clearing my throat loudly. She stirs and comes partly awake, probably unused
to having someone stay the night.

“Oh, did I wake you?” I whisper into the dark, careful to keep my tone neutral and
not hopeful.

Her hot hand trails over my chest and down to my stomach. “I had the most amazing
dream. And look at that, you’re still here.” Her fingers skate below my waist and
brush my growing erection. “Oh, and what a nice perk. Looks like all your parts are
awake.” I can hear the smile in her words as her warm breath fans my chest.

Her hand locks over my arousal and I suck in a breath. “I’m thirty-four, not sixty-four.
I’m good for more than one round per night.”

She lifts her head and plants a soft kiss on my mouth, her hand teasing me to full
height. “Good to know, old man.”

Before we lose all track of sense, a niggling worry in the back of my mind has me
reaching out to place a hand over hers. “Last night was incredible. Please don’t tell
me it was another one-off type of thing.”

Faint light from the street spills in, slightly illuminating her unsure features hovering
inches above my own. “I’m not saying no, but I need time to decide how far I want
this to go, okay?”

I let go of her hand and reach up to cup a full breast. “That’s better than a no any
day of the week.”

The peace and calm of our sexually-satisfied sleep is rudely broken by an incessant
knocking at Carla’s front door. She snuggles in deeper as I glance at the clock. It’s
only a few minutes after seven a.m.

The banging becomes louder as I nudge Carla. “Someone’s at the door.”

She mumbles, “Probably just a delivery. Can you get it?”

Warmth swells inside me at the casual inclusion she’s offered into her life. I kiss
her bare shoulder and reply, “No problem.”

I grab my pants and a shirt, not bothering with underwear in my haste. The firm knocking
continues after a brief respite and I call out, “Coming!”

Carla pushes her bangs off her face and yawns. Her voice carries to me as I exit the
bedroom, “I might as well get up, too. We’ve got work in two hours.”

I open her apartment door and my blood freezes. This is no deliveryman. The guy in
the hall is wearing a jacket and slacks, a button down shirt and a tie. He looks about
my age, but a bit more haggard. His hard visage makes more sense when he opens his
wallet and flashes a shiny gold badge. “Is there a problem, officer?”

“
Detective
Donovan. Does a Carla Johnson live here?”

“Yes.” I motion behind me. “She’s waking up now.”

“I need to speak to her. May I come in?”

Unsure shutting the door on him to check with Carla is a wise move, I gesture with
my arm for him to come inside. “Please, have a seat. I’ll tell Carla you’re here.”
I close the door after he enters, and face the detective. “Can you tell me what this
is about?”

“Are you family?” I shake my head. “Sorry, I can’t.”

Dread fills my stomach as I walk to Carla’s bedroom. She’s sitting up in bed with
a robe on, a confused smile on her face. “Did you just let someone into my living
room?”

“It’s the police, Carla. I’m not sure what he wants.”

Her face scrunches up in confusion. “I haven’t done anything wrong. Maybe it’s an
issue with one of the neighbors?” She smiles warmly at me, “Although, if something
happened last night I can honestly say I didn’t hear a thing.”

“Why don’t you get some clothes on?” I run a hand through my short hair. “I think
talking with a stranger in a robe might be a little uncomfortable.”

She sighs and moves to her closet. “You’re probably right. Wonder what in the heck
it could be about. Hope no one’s place was broken into. The building has always been
safe in the past.” In a moment she’s dressed in yoga pants and a t-shirt and I stand
to the side to let her pass.

“Aren’t you coming with me?” Hope shines in her eyes.

Tension from a held breath eases out. “If you want me to, yes.”

We pass through the narrow hall to greet the early morning visitor. The officer rises
and extends his hand. “Are you Carla Johnson?”

“Yes, I am.” She shakes his hand briefly, then settles on the couch and pats the cushion
next to her, indicating I should join her. “Would you like some coffee? You caught
us before the pot was made.”

The tired-looking officer smiles, but it doesn’t reach his hazel eyes. “Thank you,
I’m fine.” He reaches into his coat to withdraw some papers. “Did your mother, Erin
Johnson, file a missing person’s report fifteen years ago for one David Henry Johnson?”

Carla straightens in her seat. “Wait. You’re here for something about my father? Not
like a break-in in the building or something?”

The detective nods, his dark hair neat and his expression solemn. “Yes, that’s right.
I’m here about a development in his case. You put your name in as a person to contact
seven years ago, correct?”

Carla’s face drains of color as she nods. I reach out across the couch and clasp her
hand. “Our family moved out of the city a few years after my dad went missing. When
I moved back into the area I contacted the department my mother originally filed the
report with, just in case anything came up.” She swallows loudly. “Oh my God. What’s
happened? Just spit it out.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Johnson,” he says. “Your father’s body was discovered in a deep ravine,
during excavation for expanding a road.”

She clutches my hand. “Did you just say ‘his body’?”

“Yes, ma’am. The coroner’s report states he died about the same time frame he was
reported missing.”

Her voice comes out shaky, “Did the report say how he died?”

“He suffered a severe head wound but whether he died from the injury or exposure to
the elements is uncertain at this time. He had no wallet on him or anything of value.
His identity was discovered through dental records collected with the original case.
It’s speculated he may have been the victim of a carjacking and robbery gone wrong.
I’m terribly sorry, ma’am.”

Carla stares straight ahead while the detective opens his notebook.

“You were fourteen when he was reported missing?”

She doesn’t say anything. I scoot closer and wrap an arm around her, squeezing her
shoulder to bring her back to the here and now.

“Um...What?” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. Yes, I was fourteen.”

“Do you recall if your father had any enemies or what kind of people he socialized
with?”

Carla’s face takes on a far-away expression. “Enemies? He got along with everyone
as far as I could tell. I think he was in sales. I know he traveled with work sometimes.
It was so long ago, I don’t really remember friends, outside of people who came to
parties.”

“Anyone ever seem to have a beef with him or maybe he owed them money?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Did your parents fight often?”

Carla’s face crumbles. “Why are you asking these questions? Didn’t you just say it
looked like a carjacking and a robbery?”

“Yes, it
looked
like that’s what it could be. But that doesn’t mean we don’t try and find out exactly
what happened that night.”

The detective and Carla talk for a few more minutes before he departs, leaving her
with his business card. He needs to speak with her mother and is giving Carla a chance
to break the news to her first. Carla will need to head out soon. The shock of his
visit leaves both of us quiet. Striving for some semblance of normalcy, I venture
into the kitchen to make coffee. It takes me a few minutes to find everything and
get it going. Carla doesn’t get up to help and I’m inclined to leave her to collect
her thoughts. Very soon I’ve got a hot cup ready and hand it to Carla who’s still
sitting on the couch, frozen in place.

She takes a small sip of the fresh brew, her eyes meeting mine. “I don’t know what
the hell I should be doing right now. This feels surreal.”

I take a seat next to her and wrap my free arm around her hunched shoulders. “I think
you’ll need to call in to work and then arrange transportation to her house.”

A shudder runs through her frame. “You’re right. I’ll call into work. There’s no way
I can tell her this over the phone. I’ll have to drive up.” Her hand shakes as she
sets her coffee down. “I don’t even have a car. I’ll have to rent one.”

Immediately I think of my sister’s car. “I can call Andrea and see if she can lend
me hers. Do you want me to go with you or would you prefer to go alone?”

She turns to me, her dark blue eyes looking lost and empty. “Thank you for the offer,
but I think this is something I need to do by myself. My mom…” her voice trails off.
She takes a deep breath and tries again. “My mom can be difficult and I have a feeling
she isn’t going to take this well.”

Pounding spring rain pours as I drive through the dreary morning to my mom’s in a
rented sedan. The roads are slick and the traffic crawls. What would normally be a
ninety-minute drive is already taking over two hours.

My cell rings on the passenger seat. One glance reveals it’s Andy calling. I click
answer and immediately switch the phone to speaker option, setting it on the console
between the seats.

“Hi Andy.”

“Hey. Are you at your mom’s yet?”

“Almost there. The rain has slowed everyone down.” Apprehension swirls in my middle,
the rhythmic beat of the steady wipers doing nothing to calm me. “I’m so not looking
forward to this.”

“I don’t blame you.” A sigh echoes over the phone. “I’m sorry about the things I said
about your dad last night. I had no right.”

His thoughtfulness helps to stem the twisting in my gut. “Not your fault. I was right
there thinking the worst of him myself.” I stop at a light close to my mom’s house,
wondering how I’m going to break the news to her. “Of course, that was because we
all thought he’d left. God, what a mess.”

The light turns green and I make a left into her housing development. She bought
one of the smaller townhouses two years after I graduated college when she only had
Julie visiting sporadically on weekends.

“I feel awful you’re dealing with this on your own. Are you going to be okay on the
trip back alone? I could come up if you need a driver.”

I smile, despite the awfulness of the day. “Thank you for the offer. I’ll be fine.”
I’ve finally found a guy I want to spend more than one night with and I can’t believe
I’m pushing him away. But it’s important to me that I handle this family business
alone. I need to clear the air with my mom on a lot of emotional baggage and have
waited too long to do so. Would I really want a new lover hearing all our dirty laundry?

“Okay, as long as you’re sure. Call me when you’re heading home. The weather is bad
and you know how New York drivers are.” I hear a touch of humor in his last words,
as if he’s trying to lighten the situation a little. What an amazing guy. And to think
I almost missed him due to my own issues.

I use my left turn indicator when her street approaches, driving slower than normal
due to the rain. “Alright, I will.”

We say our goodbyes and hang up, seconds before I turn into an empty space in front
of her place. The pale cream siding looks drab in the grey light of late morning.
A lamp from an upper story illuminates the small front bedroom overlooking the parking
area.

I didn’t call ahead, worried it would start an avalanche of questions I was unprepared
to answer. My mom works from home, telecommuting for a medical billing company. I
know she’s there, where the light is, working in the bedroom she uses as an office.

I take a deep breath and pull the hood up on my light raincoat. Waiting won’t make
it any easier, so without further contemplation I grab my purse and race into the
rain, then up her steps to the front door.

Apprehension fills me once again as I ring the bell and wait for her to answer. God,
maybe I should have asked the cop to come. Would that have been easier or harder?

Depends on how you look at it. Easier because you wouldn’t have had to be the one
to tell her.

No. This might be hard, but it’s the right thing to do.

After a few minutes my mom opens the door, her face creasing in surprise when she
sees it’s me.

“Carla! Come in, come in.” She steps to the side and ushers me with one arm out of
the rain. “I didn’t know you were coming.” Her eyebrows creep up her lined forehead.
“Did you call and I missed the message?”

I shake my head no and remove my coat. She takes the dripping garment, her eyes traveling
over my casual jeans and t-shirt without comment, and quickly hangs the raincoat in
the attached garage so the water can fall off in there. When she turns back to me,
worry creases her brow.

“Are you okay, dear? It’s not like you to drive here unannounced—especially on a work
day.” Understanding blossoms across her face. “Oh my God—did you get fired? I’m so
sorry, honey.”

“No mom, nothing like that. Can we go sit down and talk?”

“Sure.” She heads down the entry hall to the kitchen, the small living room opening
up to my right as I follow her. “Would you like some coffee? I can put on a fresh
pot.”

The coffee I had this morning went down like acid, bubbling and churning during the
first half of my drive. “No, thanks.”

“I’m going to nuke mine. Want to talk at the table?”

Not sure where a good place would be to drop this ball of news, I agree, “Yeah. That’s
fine.”

My voice sounds wooden to my own ears. Perhaps it’s the shock of knowing what I know,
I’m not certain. I do know I’m not looking forward to the next few minutes.

I take a seat and patiently wait while she heats up her coffee, adding a bit more
milk to the mug before joining me.

“Well, you’ve got my attention,” she says with a small smile. “What’s up?” Her face
lights with shock. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“Mom!” Indignation flashes over my face. So typical of her to think the worst of me.
“No, I’m not pregnant. It’s nothing about me.” My eyes dart away from her, to the
large window overlooking the woods behind her townhouse, then back when I muster the
courage to speak. “I had an early morning visitor.”

She sips from her mug, nodding that she’s following me.

“It was a police detective.”

Her face loses all color and her body stiffens. “Did something happen to your sister?
Is she okay? Is she at a hospital? Why didn’t you call me?”

My hands come up in a reassuring gesture, meant to stem that flow of thought. “It
wasn’t about Julie.” She sags a little in her chair, the instant tension gone. “It
was about Dad.”

She purses her lips, tilting her head to the side in question. “What about your father?
A detective you say?”

I nod. God, this is harder than I thought.

She takes another sip of coffee, looking a little flustered but not like she’s going
to flip out, more like she’s trying to work through the
why
. “Was it a development in the missing person’s case I filed long ago?”

“Kind of.” I look away again, my gut clenching.

“Carla honey, just spit it out.”

“He’s dead, Mom. They found his body while excavating to expand a road.”

She sets her mug down with a heavy clunk. “What happened to him?” Her face hardens
as she tries to control her emotions. “Did he die in a car wreck—maybe while living
his new life with someone else?”

I shake my head and reach across the table to grab her hand. “No, Mom. The coroner
thinks he might have died very close to the time he was reported missing.”

Her mouth drops open and she pulls her hand back from mine to cover her mouth. Guilt
races across her face, the emotion unmistakable, before disappearing under the red
of anger. “That’s impossible. The investigating officer told me he thought David left
us, that he’d seen it happen time and time again to families in…” She stops mid-thought,
but I caught the slip.

“ ‘Families in’ what, Mom? What were you about to say?”

“There must be some mistake. It’s not David.” She bolts up and stalks from the table,
turning when she reaches the counter and leans back against it, arms wrapped around
her middle.

I stay seated and watch her carefully. Why was she looking guilty a moment ago? Could
she have had something to do with his disappearance? The moment the traitorous thought
arrives I squelch it. My mother might be a bitch at times, but she’d never have killed
my father. It doesn’t add up to her behavior in the fifteen years.

“It’s not a mistake. The coroner confirmed it was Dad by dental records with the original
missing person’s file.”

“No! It can’t be right! He’s out there somewhere, I know it! He just…”

“Abandoned us high and dry fifteen years ago?” I stand, my own anger getting the better
of me. “Why is that option more appealing to you? Does that sound like the man you
married? The man who had two children with you?”

“Yes! I mean, no. But the officer was so sure he’d left. I believed him.”

“Did you, Mom? Or did you want to? You looked guilty a moment ago.” Her eyes widen
and she averts her attention to the floor. “What is it you haven’t told me all these
years?” I step closer, my proximity forcing her to meet my gaze. “What are you leaving
out that made you so readily accept the man you’d known for so long would up and desert
his family?”

She says nothing, her mouth a thin line.

“Answer me!”

My mother flinches and then crumbles, her shoulders sagging forward. Her voice comes
out soft and broken. “We fought that night—about money, bills, you name it. He packed
a bag and took off, saying he was going to visit a client and would do his best to
dig us out of the financial mess our lives had become.” Tears trail down her checks.
“The weather was bad, like today—slick roads and a downpour. I yelled at him and practically
chased him out of the house, furious with our situation.”

I reach out and touch her shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me any of that? Couples fight
all the time. It’s normal, especially when times are bad.”

“Because the officer looked at me as if it were my fault. Like I’d driven David away.”
A thought occurs to her and her face shatters, sobs spilling forth. “Oh my God, did
he die in a car accident from the bad weather? Did I actually chase him to his death
that night?”

“No, Mom! Get that thought out of your head. The detective told me he was found alone,
no car accident. It looked like he was robbed and hit on the head. They were speculating
it could have been a carjacking.” I wrap my arms around the woman I’ve held myself
emotionally distant from for over a decade and give myself over to the play of emotions
swirling inside me.

Tears trickle down my cheeks as she hugs me. Her voice sounds close to my ear, disbelief
coloring the whispered tone. “All these years, and I didn’t drive him away.”

The simple statement clicks everything into place for me. She felt so awful about
what she perceived to be her part in his leaving, that she turned the guilt into anger.
Anger at a dead man she thought didn’t love her enough to come back and fight through
the hard times for her and their children.

Would I have reacted any differently? Would the presumed betrayal have crushed any
spark of love inside me, too?

I run a hand down her back. “Let it all go, Mom. Don’t let any more anger ruin the
rest of your life.”

My mother sobs in my arms, the shudders wracking her body as she finally allows her
body to grieve for what was and what could have been. Pretty soon I’m crying with
her and we’re apologizing for all the times we’ve pushed each other away.

After a while we wash up in separate bathrooms and meet back in the kitchen. I tell
her the detective will be here soon and he has some questions for her.

She nods and asks me to stay, saying she’d rather not face him alone. I nod while
my heart swells. I never would’ve expected my father’s death to bring us closer, to
bridge the gap we’ve slowly allowed to expand over the years—but strangely enough,
it has.