Dreams for Stones (34 page)

“You must, Alan. Please, I want you to be
happy.”

I want you to be happy
. He’d
forgotten Meg said that.

Slowly, the image of Meg receded, and he
became aware once again of Kathy’s hand in his.

“It’s okay.” Kathy’s voice was soft as a
sigh. “I understand why we can only be friends.”

Had he actually believed that? That all he
wanted from this woman was friendship?

Of course, he did want that. And so much
more.

Still holding her hand, he turned and met
her gaze and found her eyes brimming with tears. He looked into
Kathy’s eyes, still under the spell of memory. Drifting between
past and present, Kathy his only anchor.

He pulled on her hand, and surprise flowed
through him at the solidity of her body against his. He folded her
in, smoothing his hand along her back. “Kathy, Kathleen. Shhh. It’s
okay. Shhh.” Comforting her, but comforting himself as well.

She put her arms around him and tucked her
head into the curve of his neck.

Softly, like a magic incantation, he
breathed her name. “Kathy, Kathleen, dearest Kath.”

She snuggled against him like someone
burrowing into a warm quilt. Silken hair touched his cheek. Her
tears wet his neck, mingling with the tears sliding down his own
cheeks.

The past loosening its hold on the present.
No longer powerful. A last sigh, and then gone, like a reflection
in still water banished by the tossing of a single stone.

A woman with red hair and silver tears, lips
pressing against his, her arms enfolding him. This moment, this
delicate, blessed moment.

He took a deep breath of crystalline air and
said the words he last spoke to a woman facing death on Turnagain
Arm, words he never expected to say again.

“I love you.”

“Alan. Oh, my dear. I love you too. So
much.” Her body shivered against his. “I’ve been so afraid. . .
”

So had he. But stronger than that fear was
hope. He hugged her tighter, then stepped back slightly, and with
gentle fingers wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. “Last
chance, Kathleen. If you’re wise, you’ll run and not look
back.”

His hands rested gently on her shoulders,
holding her loosely, giving her the chance to change her mind.
Tears still welled in her eyes, but she didn’t pull away.

“It won’t be easy, Kath.”

“I’m not asking for easy. As long as you
love me a little.”

“Oh, much more than a little.” He gazed in
her eyes and seeing the love shining there, gratitude flowed
through him for this gift he’d done nothing to deserve.

Cupping her face between his hands, he
kissed her, and his whole world narrowed down to this.

Kathy warm and real in his arms, her lips
moving against his.

Excerpt from the diaries of Emily Kowalski

1990

I am beginning to see at long last the symmetry and balance in my
life.

First came the happy time when I met Jess
and we had Bobby, and it seemed that all my dreams had come true.
But then the dark time came, when our beautiful dreams turned to
stones—dull, ugly stones.

Now I have been given enough time to
discover that when I turn and look at those stones, they have a
sheen, and in their depths is a dark beauty.

And I know I have lived the life I was
supposed to live, and I am content

<<<>>>

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The Sequel to
Dreams for
Stones

Now available in print and electronic editions.

Alan, Kathy, and Charles’s story continues.

Alan, Kathy, and Charles's story continues. The ending of his love
affair with Kathy and an arsonist seeking revenge are the catalysts
that alter the shape and direction of Charles's life. Forced to
find both a new place to live and a way to ease his heartache,
Charles finds much more as he reaches out to help his neighbor Luz
Montalvo. Helping Luz forces Charles to come to grips with his
fractured friendships and the fragmented memories of his
childhood.

He hesitated in the doorway—a tall man in a suit and tie with a
hopeful expression on his face. Several women stopped eating or
talking to look him over, but his attention was focused on one
woman, sitting by herself.

Lucky woman
, they thought, as the man
made his way to her table. The lucky woman’s eyes met his. And the
man knew he’d lost.

The temptation to turn around and walk out
was overwhelming, but after a brief hesitation, Charles Larimore
slid onto the seat across from Kathy Jamison.

Her lips moved in a tentative smile of
welcome, but her eyes were solemn. A solemnity in direct contrast
to the gaiety of freckles dusted across her nose and the bright
copper of her hair.

“Charles. Thank you for coming. And thank
you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

“I just wanted to set the record straight.”
That he was in love with her, whether she was in love with him or
not.

And clearly she was not. He knew that, even
though she didn’t say the
I’m so sorry
that hovered
delicately in the space between them.

He had done the right thing, hadn’t he? But
once he’d discovered that Kathy loved someone she was estranged
from, he’d had only two choices—stick it out and hope for the best,
or cut his losses.

Except, given that the someone turned out to
be his best friend, he’d had one other option. The option he’d
chosen and now regretted.

“Alan came to see me,” Kathy said, eyes
lowered.

“I know. He called me.”

“You’re good friends, aren’t you.”

“The best.”

She picked up a knife and began fiddling
with it. “Then you must have known Meg.”

Surprising how much it still hurt to be
reminded of Meg, but she’d been his friend as well as Alan’s
wife.

“She was his whole world. When he lost her.
. . ”

Kathy sat silently, waiting no doubt for him
to continue, but he was finished.

“How. . . d-do you know how she died?”

No way was he going to be the one to answer
that question. “You’re taking an awful chance, Kathy Jamison.”

“I don’t understand.”

Her eyes, wide and guileless, tipped him
into agony. “You’ll always be second best with Alan. He doesn’t
have a free heart to offer you. But I do.”

Seeing the shock on her face, he realized
he’d done an awful thing. But he wasn’t sorry, not if it gave him
another chance with her.

After a moment, she laid a hand on his arm.
“I am so sorry. It seems I don’t have a free heart either.”

Flinching from her touch, he struggled to
summon the cool persona that stood him in such good stead with
juries. “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride, wouldn’t they.”
He stopped, to pull in a breath to try to expand a chest and throat
that were tight with pain.

Then he forced the rest of the words out
while he was still capable of speaking. “Thank you, for meeting
with me. For not leaving me hanging.”

“You’re a good man, Charles Larimore. Any
woman in her right mind would find it so easy to love you.”

“Just my luck, you aren’t in your right
mind.” He maintained the light tone and even appended a smile, but
it was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. He picked
up her hand and rubbed his thumb gently across her palm. The
knowledge it was the last time he would touch her almost did him
in.

Looking troubled, she met his gaze. “What
about you and Alan?”

“We’ll be fine. Might take a while.” Not
that he believed it. “You know, I’m really not very hungry all of a
sudden.” He released her hand and stood. “You and Alan. . . just be
happy. Okay?” Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked
quickly, blindly, out of the restaurant.

It was all his own fault. After all, he was
the one who’d helped Kathy and Alan reconcile.

And lost them both.

Luz made it through the funeral in the daze that had descended on
her with her step-aunt’s phone call. Her parents dead. In an auto
accident. Gone so abruptly and completely that she still didn’t
totally believe it. Except some part of her must be beginning to
accept, because the world had turned dark and frightening.

She longed to lock herself in her room,
huddle under the covers and give in to the grief that had wrapped
around her so tightly she wondered how she was still able to
move.

In the days that followed, she responded to
the obligatory words of condolence, her voice sounding odd and
disembodied, as if it were coming from a deep, hollow place. People
hugged her, their tears wetting her cheeks, but she refused to
cry.

The only thing forcing a normality on her
that she no longer believed in were her brother and sister.
Marisol, only six, had some inkling, although she still didn’t
really understand she was never going to see
Mami
and
Papi
again, but Carlito, still an infant, had no idea what
had happened. He still gurgled and smiled when she picked him
up.