Home to Eden (29 page)

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The Red Lake Motel was on the south end of town, conveniently located near the highway. The name came from the swimming pool built by the original owners, the bottom of which had been surfaced in an imaginative, but not particularly attractive, terra-cotta colored plaster. The intention had been for the pool to be striking and memorable—and it had succeeded on both those counts. Unfortunately, a red pool wasn't exactly a positive memory for most guests, making them think of horror movies and great white sharks rather than basking in the California sunshine. The pool had eventually been resurfaced, but the name had remained, providing a minor mystery for the guests.

Nick turned the Harley into the narrow parking lot. that fronted the low pink stucco building. If Eden had a tourist season, it obviously wasn't the middle of summer, if he could judge by the number of open parking spaces. He pulled into a spot that boasted a pencil-thin strip of shade, courtesy of one of the ubiquitous Mexican fan palms that had been planted with military precision along both sides of the street in classic California style.

He swung off the bike, tugged off his helmet and stood for a moment, debating the wisdom of what he was about to do. Kate would be furious if she knew he'd sought out her father. Actually, seeing her furious would almost be a relief, he thought, frowning.

Since David Moran's arrival two weeks ago, she'd been so tightly controlled that it seemed as if she didn't feel anything at all. She smiled, she even laughed occasionally, but there was always the sense that she was just going through the motions, that the real Kate, the one who let herself feel things, was locked away somewhere with her eyes closed and her hands over her ears.

He'd tried to get her to talk to him but she just smiled politely and said there was nothing wrong. It was that politeness that bothered him more than anything else. If she'd told him to mind his own business, shouted at him to leave her alone, it wouldn't have been as frightening as that cool little smile and those empty eyes. He was obviously on the other side of whatever wall she'd retreated behind. She wasn't going to come out, and she had no intention of letting him—of letting anyone—inside. He couldn't shake the feeling that, if he didn't do something to break down that wall, she was going to close herself off so completely that he'd never be able to reach her again.

Nick bounced the helmet lightly between his hands for a moment before coming to a decision. He wasn't sure what a visit to her father might accomplish. But he had to do something.

Leaving the helmet with the bike, he turned toward the motel. David Moran's room was at the far end of the building, through the courtyard and past the pool. There was a couple lounging next to the pool, pale faces turned up to catch the blazing heat of the sun. From the look of them, they were attempting to go from winter white to California tan in one afternoon. He hoped they'd brought a good supply of sunburn cream.

Nick hesitated outside David's door. Did he know what he was doing here? The answer came promptly. Not really. With a rueful smile, he lifted his hand and knocked. He'd already seen David's camper in the parking lot so he didn't waste any time hoping to be saved from the consequences of his own folly by the other man's absence.

"Nick!" David looked surprised but welcoming when he answered the door. "Come on in."

"Thanks." Nick stepped inside. The contrast between the heat outside and the air-conditioned room chilled his skin. It was like stepping out of an oven directly into a refrigerator.

"I'd forgotten how hot summers in this part of the country could be," David said. "Last few years, I've been spending most of my time farther north. It's got to be close to a hundred out there today."

"Hundred and one, according to the thermometer on the bank. But the heat wave's supposed to break tomorrow. Should be down to around eighty-five or so."

"Break out the heavy coats." David said, giving an exaggerated shiver.

Nick grinned and shrugged. "It's all relative. Compared to a hundred and one, eighty-five is practically a cold snap."

"I guess so." He bent to turn down the sound on the television set, muting Rosie O'Donnell's monologue. "Keeps me company," he said, nodding to the television set. "Silence gets overwhelming sometimes when you live alone."

"It can." Nick thought of the years he'd lived in New York, all the long, empty nights spent watching Leno and Letterman."

"You want something to drink?" David asked. "This place has a kitchen—more or less. It's not much more than a closet but it saves me from having to eat out every night. Or fudge meals from my in-laws," he added, smiling over his shoulder. He'd had dinner with them twice, both times at Kate's invitation, though she'd barely spoken a word during either meal. He pulled open a pair of louvered doors to reveal a small kitchen area. 'I've got Four Roses, Chivas and some single-malt whiskey. Name your poison."

"It's a little early in the day for me," Nick said easily. "You have anything cold and wet?"

"Beer and I think there's a couple of Cokes."

"A Coke would be great." Nick took the ice-cold can from him and opened it, watching while David threw some ice cubes in a tumbler and splashed whiskey over them.

"Place didn't come with much by way of bar glasses," he said, lifting the tumbler as illustration. He smiled and shrugged. "When you travel as much as I do, you get used to making do."

"Sounds like you've seen most of the country," Nick said.

"Pretty much. Have a seat." David gestured toward the room's one overstuffed chair. "I've traveled through every state except Hawaii." He sat on one of the straight-backed chairs that flanked the tiny table. "Only reason I've missed Hawaii is because you gotta leave the ground to get there. I don't do planes or boats," he added with a self-deprecating smile.

"That puts Hawaii pretty much out of reach unless you're one hell of a swimmer."

"Not that good." David's chuckle ended on a wistful sigh. "It's a pity, though. It would be nice to make it a grand slam. Every state in the union."

"Trying for a spot in Guinness?"

"No. Just like to see what's over the next hill. I never could settle in one place for very long. Always had the feeling I was missing out on something."

"More hills, usually."

"More often than not," David agreed. "But now and again, there's something new. It makes it worthwhile." He took a swallow of his drink and shot Nick a shrewd look. "I imagine Katie told you we moved a lot when she was a little girl."

"She told me." Nick kept his tone neutral.

"She hated it." David shifted his eyes to his glass, swirling it lightly so that the whiskey slid in thin, amber curtains over the silvery ice cubes. "I always told myself she'd learn to love it, given time. But she never did." He shook his head. "I used to think that children sort of grew up in the direction you aimed them, but it doesn't always work that way. Katie hated every move."

"Then why did you keep moving?" Despite himself, there was an edge to the question.

David's fingers tightened around the glass and then relaxed slowly. "I thought about settling down. Even tried it a time or two. But I couldn't do it. After a few months, I'd get the itch and I just had to move along."

No matter what it did to your family? But Nick didn't ask the question.

"Sally—Katie's mother—she never minded," David said. The words held a faintly defensive edge. "She didn't care where we lived. Long as we were together, she was happy."

Nick remembered Kate saying the same thing, remembered also the old hurt in her eyes. He felt the sides of the Coke can start to bend under the pressure of his grip and made a conscious effort to loosen it.

"You were lucky."

"And I always knew it." David looked at him again. "Did Katie ask you to come here?"

"No." Nick raised his brows in surprise. "Why would she?''

"I don't know." David frowned at his glass. "She...I never did understand her. I never knew how to talk to her. She always seemed to see too much."

"What do you mean?"

"I always felt like she could see right through me, see who I really was." His eyes, the same smoky blue as his daughter's, focused on a point past Nick's shoulder, looking into the past. "She'd look at me with those pretty blue eyes and she'd see right through all my lies to the truth."

Nick said nothing. He hadn't known what to expect from this visit, but he certainly hadn't expected the other man to open up to him like this. He glanced at the whiskey and wondered if it was David's first of the day and if that was what had loosened his tongue.

David's eyes met Nick's for an instant before flickering away. "I suppose she told you about Joshua and little Mary?"

"She told me," Nick said, making an effort to keep his tone neutral. He didn't want to do anything to discourage this flow of information, and he was curious to see what Kate's father had to say about his two younger children.

"I shouldn't have let them go, I suppose." David rattled the ice nervously in his glass and then got up abruptly to splash more whiskey over the half-melted cubes. He sat down again and took a deep swallow, as if fortifying himself to continue. "I told myself— told everyone—that I did it because it was what was best for them, what was best for Katie. I said she was too young to be taking care of her brother and sister."

"She was just a child herself."

"Yes, but she was so much older than her years. And she knew." He sighed and let his head fall forward until his chin nearly touched his chest. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I could never fool her. She always knew why I did it,"

"Why did you?" Remembering Kate's anguish, Nick had to struggle to keep his voice level.

David didn't speak right away, and Nick wondered if he was going to ignore the question. But then he lifted his head and met Nick's eyes for a moment, his expression an odd mixture of defiance and pleading. "I did it because I was weak." He looked away. "I did it because I wanted to bury myself in the bottle, and I couldn't do it with two little ones depending on me."

"What about Kate? She was depending on you, too." Despite himself, Nick's voice vibrated with anger. David heard it and shook his head.

"Katie never let herself depend on anyone, least of dl me," David said. His mouth twisted. "I used to wonder, if she'd been different—if she'd been the kind of child who clung to you and always needed someone to take care of her—if maybe things would have been different between us. But even as a child, she stood on her own two feet."

''Maybe she felt she didn't have a choice," Nick said coldly. He could no longer conceal his anger but the other man either didn't notice or didn't care.

"Maybe." David lifted the glass again. "It's funny how you spend your whole life looking for something—chasing a dream, always looking ahead. And then, all of a sudden, you look up and you realize you're not a kid anymore and you don't have a damned thing to show for all those years of dream-ing.

Nick didn't leap to fill the silence that followed. The other man's loneliness was palpable, but he'd created his own hell, and there was nothing anyone else could do to change it.

''I guess it was a mistake to come here," David said when Nick didn't speak. "I didn't mean to upset Katie. I just wanted to see her again. I hoped we could—I don't know. Maybe we could be friends."

Despite himself, Nick felt a twinge of pity for him. But his primary concern was for Kate.

"I don't think that's likely," he said quietly.

David winced a little but he didn't argue. The ice clinked against the sides of the glass as if his hand trembled slightly. "She's pregnant, isn't she?"

Nick hesitated a moment before nodding. It wasn't the kind of thing that could be kept a secret. Kate's condition was already obvious to anyone who cared to look, which, obviously, her father had.

"A grandchild." David seemed to roll the word over in his mind and then shook his head. "Hard to imagine it."

There was nothing in his tone to indicate whether the idea pleased him or not. He lifted the glass and drank down the last of the whiskey. When he lowered it, he looked at Nick, his eyes clear and direct,

"You love her very much, don't you?"

"Heart and soul." Nick's answer came without hesitation and he felt a tremendous sense of relief at finally having said it out loud. The knowledge had been hovering for weeks—maybe months but he'd avoided recognizing it, more than a little uneasy about allowing himself to love someone again. It felt good to face the truth. "Heart and soul," he said again, savoring the truth of the words.

David nodded, as if the answer pleased him. He seemed to hesitate and then exhaled slowly. "I guess it's time for me to be moving on." It was a statement.

Nick nodded. He hadn't come here intending to ask him to leave but now, it seemed obvious that that was exactly what had to happen. As long as he was near, Kate was going to keep building those internal walls higher and higher until she forgot how to live without them.

For just a moment, he saw a flash of real pain in the older man's face but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'd just about made up my mind to head for Saginaw anyway. Weather's got to be cooler there."