Dreams for Stones (2 page)

Greg reached her and bent his head to kiss
her before he took her hands in his and swung her into an impromptu
waltz, singing, “California, here I come.”

Kathy’s smile slid away, and her whole body
stiffened with alarm. “California?”

“Yep. Can you believe it? The fellowship
came through. San Francisco. Only the best toxicology residency in
the country. My pick of positions when I finish.”

Kathy stepped away, trying for perspective,
dread replacing joy. “But. . . but, I thought. . . that is, we
agreed. You’d accept the residency here if it was offered. So we
wouldn’t need to move.”

People eddied around them as they faced each
other in the center of the path.

“Well, yeah, but that was only if San
Francisco didn’t come through.” Greg recaptured her hand. “You knew
I went for the interview.”

Because he didn’t want to upset the head of
Emergency Medicine at St. Joseph’s who’d recommended him, but it
wasn’t supposed to mean anything. “You said you didn’t have a
chance.”

“You know how it goes. Want something too
much, it practically guarantees you won’t get it.”

Like her wanting to stay in Denver?

But if he wanted San Francisco so badly, why
hadn’t he shared that with her? Instead he’d joked about what a
disaster the interview had been, how he forgot to pack dress shoes
and worried about it until an inept waiter made shoes a moot point
by dumping coffee on him at breakfast.

They’d laughed about it, and somehow she’d
failed to notice how much it mattered to him. But he had to know
staying in Denver mattered to her.

He pulled on her hand. “Come on. We’re
blocking traffic.”

She went along with him, her thoughts still
churning, numb to the sight of daffodils and budding trees as he
led the way to the Japanese garden where he’d proposed to her. When
they reached the bench in the corner, he sat and pulled her down
beside him wrapping his arm around her. She leaned away.

“What is it?” He cocked his head, giving her
what she thought of as his doctor look. “You aren’t coming down
with something are you?”

“I may be.” Her throat tightened and her
nose itched.

“A cold?”

She shook her head. “About San Francisco.
Have you accepted?”

“Of course.”

Of course?
Could the man she loved be
so oblivious? “Don’t you think we need to talk about it?”

“What’s to talk about?” He looked
puzzled.

That we agreed. You’d try to stay in
Denver
. “The University of Colorado, maybe. Did you hear from
them yet?” It was a struggle but she’d managed to keep her tone
calm.

“They called last week.”

“And?”

He shrugged. “They offered me the spot.”

For an instant his image wavered as if she
were seeing it in a funhouse mirror.
They offered you the spot.
They offered you the spot!
“You didn’t tell me.”

“I was waiting to see if San Francisco came
through. Look, Kit, if you wrote a novel, and you got an offer from
Random House and another from Podunk Press, which would you
choose?”

If she said anything more right now she’d
likely regret it. Instead, she switched her focus to a middle-aged
couple walking through the garden. The man leaned toward the woman
and said something that made her laugh. Kathy watched the two until
she thought she could speak without raising her voice. “The
University of Colorado isn’t exactly Podunk U.”

“True, but San Francisco, Kit. It’s the
opportunity of a lifetime.”

Did Greg’s rich baritone carry a hint of
irritation? But what right did he have to be irritated? Her life
was the one being uprooted, and he needed to show some sensitivity
to that fact.

“It’s only two years, babe. No biggie.
Besides, it’s not like you’ve lived in Denver your whole life or
anything.” He gave her his most ingratiating smile, and an
overwhelming urge to slap him had her clutching her hands
together.

“You’ll love San Francisco.”

Wrong. Denver was her home now. She’d chosen
it, let herself get attached. Promised herself she wasn’t moving
again. And two years was more than nothing. It was as long as she’d
lived any one place when she was growing up.

Moving. With a father in the Air Force, she
knew all about it, and she’d had enough. Enough of leaving behind
all that had become familiar and dear. Enough of starting over with
new friends, new neighbors, new schools. New dentists, new doctors,
new jobs. Enough of packing and unpacking. Enough wrong turns,
enough ending up in wrong places.

Just enough.

She tried to speak, but her throat felt like
it was full of sand. She swallowed. “So, tell me. Is this how you
plan to handle decisions affecting the two of us once we’re
married?” Her voice began to spiral, like a car going out of
control on an icy curve. “You decide, then you tell me what you’ve
decided.” She clamped her lips shut, moving her fingers in a silent
count.

“Of course not. But it’s my career, so that
makes this my decision.”

“So. Does that mean since I’m the one who
gets pregnant, it’s my choice whether we have children?”

“That’s ridiculous. Kids would affect both
our lives.”

“And your decision to go to San Francisco
doesn’t affect my life?”

Greg cleared his throat, lifted his eyes to
hers and spoke with apparent sincerity. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t
have accepted without discussing it with you.”

Darn right, he shouldn’t have. She took
three more breaths, staring at him, waiting for him to look away.
He didn’t.

“I’m really, really sorry,” he said.

He
did
look sincere. And regretful.
She continued to glare at him.

Finally he lowered his gaze. “I just didn’t
think. Being engaged—it’s so new. I didn’t realize. I didn’t mean
to hurt you.”

“I accept your apology.” Her voice was stiff
and jerky, but she made no effort to smooth it.

He reached for her hand, and she let him
have it.

“You are so beautiful.”

He almost got away with it—distracting her
from her anger, not to mention from the fact they hadn’t resolved
anything.

“We still need to figure out what we’re
going to do,” she said.

“I thought we had.”

She tipped her chin to meet his eyes.

“We’re going to San Francisco, and. . . ”
His voice drifted to a halt.

Her world sped up, then abruptly slowed.
Images that had been hurtling by too quickly for her to identify
came into stark focus. Beyond the clear blue of his eyes and the
gold of his hair. Beyond the breadth of his shoulders and the
corded muscles of his arms, how well did she know this man? And was
this what being married to him would be like? Sudden
announcements—he’d bought a house, a car, changed jobs—without it
ever occurring to him to consult her before he did it?

A fleck of lint clung to the side of his
mouth, and her eyes locked on that speck.

“What?” Greg swiped at his face, dislodging
the lint.

Kathy blinked, noticing for the first time
his hair was beginning to thin at the temples. A sudden image of
Greg with thinning hair and an expanding paunch made her smile.

He grinned back. “Good. It’s settled.”

She closed her eyes, shutting out the vivid
blue of the sky and the fresh spring green, struggling to come to
terms with the idea.

“You’re scaring me, babe. Come on. It’s not
the end of the world, you know.”

But it was the end of something.

“What can I do to make this easier for
you?”

She wished she knew.

Later she decided if this had happened to a friend—the friend’s
fiancé announcing a major decision without any consideration for
her friend’s wants and needs—she’d have advised that friend to tell
the fiancé, now downgraded to eye-of-newt, what he could do with
his decision.

But look at her. Note how
she’d
handled her fiancé’s announcement—made without any concern for her
dreams and hopes—that they were moving to San Francisco.

Yeah, just look at her.

She was packing.

And why was that, exactly?

Because she loved him, of course. It was
their first. . . no not a fight. A difference of opinion. He hadn’t
stopped to think, but once he did, he’d apologized. Sincerely.

Sitting next to him, listening to his
reasons, seeing how much he wanted to go to San Francisco, she’d
been unable to deny him.

Compromise. Essential to any relationship.
This time, his turn to get what he wanted, next time, hers.
Sacrificing for someone you loved was noble. And since that
afternoon, they’d worked things out. Everything was fine again.
Would be fine. The bright glow had dimmed only a little. After all,
his dedication to his career was one of the things she loved about
him.

She’d dated enough to know a man who treated
her with such care and thoughtfulness—well, most of the time—wasn’t
as rare as hens’ teeth. But men like that sure weren’t thick on the
ground either.

With a sigh, she opened the bottom drawer of
the dresser, lifted out a pile of sweaters, and plopped them
willy-nilly into one of the cartons Greg had dropped off.

San Francisco. It was, as he’d pointed out,
only two years. She could manage two years. Except. . .

She froze in the act of adding a pair of
jeans to the sweaters and sat back on her heels. How could she have
overlooked that one, casual line. “My pick of positions when I
finish.”

She’d been so focused on the main issue of
the move, she’d let him slip right by her the hint that after his
residency he might accept a position someplace he considered more
prestigious than Denver.

But would he, really?

Before he announced his plan to go to San
Francisco, she would have said, no way.

And now?

She narrowed her eyes, staring at the photo
of Greg on the small table to her right.

Darn right he would.

So, was this how she planned to handle it?
Pack and meekly tag along? As if everything she wanted,
needed,
was unimportant when stacked up against Greg’s
“career.”

Startled, she stared at the shreds of
cardboard in her hands and realized she was halfway through tearing
apart a box.

Listen to
your heart, Kathleen. It’s telling you what to do
.

This was certainly a fine time for her Emily
tape to start.

Except, it was really. The exact right
time.

Because whenever she was confused or
worried, all she needed to do was tap into an Emily memory or dig
out one of Emily’s diaries, the way some people did the
Bible
. She’d pick up one of the small, leather books, open
it at random and read. It always calmed her and, from that calm,
her answer would come.

“Kathy dear, how is the packing coming?”

Kathy’s tiny landlady stood in the doorway,
her halo of white hair backlit by light from the hallway.

Kathy shifted her gaze from Mrs. Costello to
the shreds of cardboard she was still holding. “Oh, just
peachy.”

“That’s good to hear.” Mrs. C raised her
eyebrows a notch, eyeing the demolished box. “You know, dear, we’re
going to miss you something fierce when you leave.”

“Oh, and I’m going to miss you, Mrs. C.”
Kathy scrambled to her feet to give her landlady, who smelled of
warm bread and cinnamon, a hug. Mrs. C’s foundation garment made
her feel stiff, but Kathy felt the returned affection in the pats
the older woman gave her.

Mrs. C stepped back and used her apron to
wipe moisture from her eyes. “What a couple of sillies we are.” She
patted Kathy’s arm. “You go on with your packing, dear. You don’t
want to hold up that young man of yours. I just wanted to tell you,
dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

Kathy leaned on the doorjamb after Mrs. C
left, looking at her room: the floral carpet with its pattern of
pink cabbage roses, the four-poster bed with its white chenille
spread, the vanity with its stiffly starched doily centered on
top.

Chances were good it had looked exactly the
same for at least fifty years. But maybe that was why she was so
attached to it.

When she’d rented the room, she’d planned on
staying only a week or two, until she found someone to share the
expense of an apartment, but five years had now passed, and she was
still here.

She’d stayed, not only because Mrs. C was a
wonderful cook and the house only a short walk to Calico Cat Books
where she worked, but because she’d grown to love the Costellos who
treated her like a favorite granddaughter.

She’d even chosen to remain there after her
engagement to Greg, despite his efforts to get her to move in with
him. But really, it made no sense to add a forty-minute commute to
each end of her day when Greg spent most of his nights at the
hospital.

And did it make any more sense for her to
leave a job and a city she loved for the short time Greg would be
in San Francisco?

Of course, staying in Denver would mean
putting off the wedding, and Greg probably wouldn’t be happy about
that.

Still. . .

She closed her eyes, concentrating. I have
an idea. It’s not ideal, but I know we can make it work. Why don’t
I stay in Denver? You’ll be so busy at the hospital, you won’t have
all that much free time anyway, so really, it makes sense. And
whenever you get a break, I’ll come for a visit.

Okay, not bad. It could use sharpening, but
those were the main points.

She had a sudden vivid picture of Greg
running his hands through his hair the way he did when he was tired
or nervous. “But if you really loved me, you’d come with me.”

Her eyes flew open. The words rang so clear,
she almost expected Greg to be standing in front of her.

But was that really what he’d say?