I Love You Again (7 page)

When they got back to the lodge, the last person Kit wanted to see was Roz. Correction, the last person she wanted to see was her mother, yet there she was sitting in the rocking chair on the porch. At least Roz was nowhere around.

“There you are. We gave you up for dead,” Helen said. “Bess was ready to get a search party. I was going to locate a good photo of you to put on a milk carton and…Why are you limping?”

Kit gently sat on the porch step in front of her mother. “Why are you here?”

“That’s an odd question. Where else would I be?”

“Where’s the other part of the dynamic duo?”

“Bess is inside trying to find an interesting brochure.”

“I highly doubt there’s a Saks Fifth Avenue catalog in there,” Kit said dryly.

“You’re out of breath. What have you two been doing?”

“We went on a nice hike,” Dale said. “Roz has some great trails here. And your daughter needs to get into shape.”

The anger rose deep within Kit once again. She glanced at her mother’s smug grin.

“And you’re just the gal to do it?” Helen asked.

“Well, I don’t mean to brag—”

“But I have a feeling you will.”

Dale proudly patted her stomach. “I visit the gym on a regular basis. I know the commitment it takes to keep my figure the way it is. It’s hard work.”

“Yes, you are fit. I’ll give you that.” Helen gave Kit a motherly glance.

“What’s more important than a healthy body?”

Kit heard the challenge in Dale’s voice and leaned out of the way. Here it comes…

“Oh, I don’t know, dear. Perhaps a healthy mind, a peaceful soul, a…”

“True, and I see what you’re saying. We can have both, but the mind is not the first thing you see when you look at a woman,” Dale said. “I know it’s not fair, Mrs. W., but we see with our eyes first. And sometimes people are judged by the way they look. I know it’s not right, but there you have it.”

Kit listened to Dale with a sad heart and didn’t say a word. Her mother would not take that route.

“And how one looks is important to you?”

By the look on her face, Dale knew she had gotten herself into quicksand. “I don’t want to sound superficial, but yes, I suppose it matters. But it’s not the only thing,” she added quickly.

Helen put her head back and rocked back and forth. To her credit, Dale did not continue the banter; she’d be on the losing end, and she knew it.

“Maybe tomorrow we can pack a lunch and go farther,” Dale said to Kit.

“Perhaps,” Kit said and smiled.

“Well, I’m gonna run and take a shower.”

“Another one?” Helen asked with a grin. “You’re the cleanest woman I know.”

“I hate being sweaty.” She started to jog away, then turned back to them. “We still have that bottle of champagne to open. Hey, what time is dinner?” she asked, jogging backward.

“Seven,” Kit called after her.

“Oh, tell them about my surprise tomorrow,” Dale said and ran back to the lodge.

“Ah, youth,” Helen said, still rocking. “They’re so youthful. Very annoying.” When Kit said nothing, she continued softly, “Are you still angry with me?”

“Yes.”

“But you will forgive me.”

“I have no choice.” Kit turned and glared at her mother. “Since you’re at death’s door.”

Helen put her head back and laughed. “I do love you, my darling. And you’re still in love with Rosalind. And she with you.”

Kit turned away and sighed. “Mother, you must give up this romantic nonsense about me and Roz. She has the life she wanted.”

“She does not, and you know it. My word, you must have gotten this pigheaded proclivity from the Weston side of the family.”

“What the hell is a cutthroat trout? It sounds mean. And if I read one more thing about Colorado trout streams… Oh, hi, Kit.” Bess walked out and sat next to Kit on the front steps. “You look pooped.”

“She just ran a marathon with the Junior Olympian and—”

“Mother!”

Bess put her arm around Kit’s shoulders. “We can’t kill her. We must make sure we’re in the will first.”

Helen sighed and put her head back while she rocked. “There is a certain peaceful feeling here.”

“Which you will ruin,” Kit said.

“Does Dale know about Roz?” Bess asked.

“Nope.” Kit gazed straight ahead.

“You’ve never told her?” Helen asked.

“Nope.”

“Why not?” Bess leaned against the porch railing to look at Kit.

“The topic never came up. And I don’t see why my past is any of her business or anyone’s, for that matter. It’s between me and Roz.”

“As it should be,” Helen said simply.

“Roz has her life. She’s happy.”

“As she should be.”

“And I have mine, and I’m happy.”

“As you’re not.”

Kit hung her head once again. “Mother, please…”

“I would leave you alone in a New York minute, whatever that means, if I thought you were happy and content. But you’re not, and you know it. And if Roz were honest, she would admit the same thing. That ridiculous argument over her retirement was just that—ridiculous.”

Kit turned around. “And I suppose what I wanted was ridiculous?”

“Yes, quite frankly, it was.” Helen stopped rocking and looked down at Kit. “You were scared of growing old. Good Lord, Kathleen.” She angrily shook her head. “Skydiving, running with bulls. You’re a grown woman who still has the occasional hot flash, and you have menopausal weight gain. Well, join the club. We all have it. You cannot have the body of your youth.” She lifted her cane and pointed to the lodge, “which is what that young woman wants. She wants eye cookies.”

“Candy,” Kit said miserably, ignoring the childish giggle from Bess.

“What?”

“It’s eye candy, Mother.”

“Oh. That does make better sense.” Helen laughed in spite of her anger. “Darling, if you want to be healthy, I’m all for it. Who wouldn’t want to be? But for heaven’s sake, do it for the right reasons. You’re making up this bucket list for yourself, and it offends those who truly need a bucket list. You’re young and healthy, and you’ll live a long life…”

“Uncle Bill died young,” she said over her shoulder.

“He was hit by a car, for heaven’s sake,” Helen said.

“Well then, Aunt Dot…”

“Oh, good Lord.” Helen took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And now I have heartburn.” She poked the end of her cane against Kit’s back. “Look at me.”

Kit groaned and turned around to her. Her anger softened when she saw the tears well in Kit’s blue eyes. “My darling little fool. We’re all going to die. Unless this cryogenic thing actually works… My point is, sweetie, knock it off. I mean it. You were afraid that Roz and you were going to get old and die. Well, news flash, you are. So am I. So is Bess…”

“I am not. I’m holding out for that cryogenic idea.”

Helen laughed, and to her delight, so did Kit.
 

“Let’s get off the death talk. Don’t you think you should at least tell Dale about Roz?” Bess asked.

“Yes. Unfortunately, now I have no choice.” Kit glared at her mother. “This wasn’t a nice thing to do to her, Mother. Dale may be superficial—”

“At best.”

“And I know it was a surprise, but I wish you would have told me about this weekend.”

“Would you have gone?” Bess asked softly.

Kit sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Would you have gone away for the weekend with Dale?”

“No. For heaven’s sake, we’ve only been dating a couple of weeks.”

Helen let out a sarcastic snort. “It took less time for you and Rosalind.”

“That’s what I said,” Bess said.

Helen continued while Kit just shook her head. “If I remember correctly, you two were rolling naked in the clover—”

Kit covered her ears then and started humming.

Helen laughed along with Bess. “You know we’re right.” She then prodded Kit with the end of her cane once again. “All right, all right. I’ll behave. Oh, what’s the surprise Dale spoke of?”

Kit looked to the heavens. Why? Why is this happening? “Dale knows the owner of the local skydiving company.”

“Oh, dear.” Helen laughed then. “No way out of it now.”

“Who says I want a way out of it?” Kit looked at Bess, who whistled and absently looked at the sky.

“No one. If you want to jump out of a plane, go right ahead.” Helen shook her head. “What else is on your schedule for tomorrow beside the walk-a-thon and terror at ten thousand feet?”

Kit ignored the sarcasm. “Dale is going to learn how to fly fish around eight.”

“It appears you have a full day for your birthday.”

“Is that eight o’clock in the morning?” Bess asked.

“Yes.” She could feel the eyes of scrutiny upon her and avoided both women.

“And who is going to teach her?” Helen asked sweetly.

“You know full well who,” Kit said angrily and stood.

“Hmm,” Helen said thoughtfully as she rocked. “I think I would like the professor to teach me the art of fly-fishing.”

Kit’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I really do.”

Kit looked at Bess, who put her hands up. “I don’t care what it is. I’m not getting up at the butt crack of dawn for anything.”

“Mother, you don’t even know which end of the rod to hold.”

“That’s why I need instruction.”

“No, what you need is—”

Helen raised her cane. “Ah, ah. Remember to whom you speak, young lady.”

“I’m going back to the room.”

“Have fun,” Helen said.

“Mother?”

“Yes?”

“I beseech you…”

“Beseech? Oh, dear, that sounds dreadful.”

“Please, we’re only here for a few days. And it’s my birthday.”

“I know!” Helen said happily.

“Please don’t start anything, well, anything more than you already have. If not for me, think of Roz.”

Helen beamed. “Are you thinking of her?”

Kit dropped her head. “Dear God.”

“Oh, all right. I said I’d behave.”

Kit narrowed her eyes. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“I don’t know. I’m a believable woman. Maybe it’s you?” Helen asked with a slight smile.

Kit shook her head. “See you at dinner.”

“Seven,” Helen called after her. “Don’t be late.”

As Helen watched Kit walk back toward the lodge, Bess watched Helen. “You promised. Did you have your fingers crossed?”

“With my arthritic hands?” Helen huffed indignantly. She then touched her temple. “I had them crossed in my mind.”

“The scariest place on earth. Oh, Helen, I think Kit is serious.”

“I won’t have to do much.”

“Like a gentle nudge?”

“Gentle, my Aunt Minnie, who was hit by a car, as well, if I remember. Did you see the way they looked at each other when we arrived?”

“I’m not sure that was love. It looked more like they were completely flummoxed, bordering on terrified.”

Helen raised an eyebrow. “Don’t kid yourself, Bess. What do you think love is?”

Chapter 6

After she dressed for dinner, Helen walked through the bathroom and knocked on the adjoining door to Kit’s room.

“C’mon in, Mom,” Kit called.

Helen poked her head in to see Kit standing in front of the mirror.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall,” Helen said.

Kit smiled and tightened the belt on her robe and ran her fingers through her wet hair.

“You have a beautiful complexion,” Helen said as she sat down. “I’ll take credit for that. And you should go without all that makeup. Roz loves…”

Kit turned around to her. “I don’t care what Roz loves anymore.”

“Go peddle that story to someone who doesn’t know you. I came to get you, but as usual, you’re running late.” Helen stood with a groan. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

“Okay, I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

“Wear something sexy,” Helen said as she walked out before Kit could respond. She laughed, though, when she heard the loud groan.

Helen was still chuckling when she found Roz staring into the fireplace. She shook her head as she approached. “Youth,” she mumbled angrily. She stood by the piano, and for a moment, she regarded the woman who stole her daughter’s heart nearly twenty years ago. The scrawny thing Kit brought home one day like a stray puppy. Kit was to find out Rosalind Maguire was anything but.

“Mind if I play?” she asked softly.

Roz grinned but still gazed at the flames. “I’d mind if you didn’t. I got it for you.”

“You’re a horrible liar, Rosalind.” Helen settled herself on the cushioned piano bench. She ran her fingers along the black and white keys and examined her arthritic fingers; she gently rubbed them together before she started.

“Where’s Kit?” Roz asked absently.

Helen raised an eyebrow. “Still primping. You know her love of the mirror.”

Roz had to laugh. “I do. I think she loved getting ready to go out more than the actual event.”

“She’s a Weston. Unlike you, who would throw on anything. I remember Kit telling me how she practically dragged you into the bedroom.” She looked up then. “To get ready. Not for sex. If I recall—”

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“Party poop. Now before I ache like the devil, what shall I play?”

Roz shrugged as if it didn’t matter. Helen raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Then I shall play Roger’s and my favorite.”

When she started playing “
Charmaine
”, Roz grinned. “That’s a World War I song, Helen. You’re not that old.”

Helen laughed. “I know, but it was his favorite. Roger Weston was a beautiful man, and I loved him. Just as you love our daughter.” As she played, she watched Roz. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine…”

Roz turned to Helen then. “But she didn’t just walk in, you crazy old woman. You brought her here.”

“A minor point.” Helen continued to play. “Does it really matter how she got here? Aren’t you glad to see her?”

Roz sighed and leaned against the piano. “Of course I am. I’m just so stunned. But it’s not the same, Helen. She’s, she’s…”

“She’s still in love with you,” Helen said. “Though I think she’s just angry because you didn’t go through menopause as she did. It was very unkind of you, Roz, not to have hot flashes. She still has them.”

Roz laughed. “Oh, that’s gotta piss her off.”

“Oh, it certainly does. She called me just the other day. Said she was standing naked in front of the refrigerator with the freezer door open and sweat pouring down her body. I asked if she had just had sex…”

“Helen…”

She laughed like a child. “I know. Kit was not amused with that, either.” She continued to play for a moment. “Do you miss her? I mean, truly.”

Roz swallowed as she stared at Helen’s hands on the piano keys. “Miss her?”

Helen heard the catch in her voice but continued playing.

“I wake up some nights and just hold my pillow,” Roz said softly. “I was so wrong.”

“You were both wrong.”

“And now she has someone else.”

Helen grunted sarcastically. “She loves you, you idiot.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, yes, I do. I know real love when I see it.”

“You do, huh?”

Helen nodded while she played. “I’ve told you how I met Kit’s father.”

“Yes,” Roz said. “But I’d love to hear it again.”

“You’re a romantic sap, Rosalind Maguire. Very well. I was seventeen, and it was right after the war. I was sitting in the library, and in walked a tall thin young man. At first, I thought nothing of him. But then for some reason, something drew me to him. I watched him as he looked almost lovingly around the library. What struck me was he looked ill, as if it was his first time out after convalescing.” She looked at Roz. “You must tell me if I’m boring you.”

“You’re anything but boring. Well, occasionally annoying, perhaps. And I love this story,” Roz said.

“When he dropped a book, he had a difficult time bending over to pick it up. And before I knew it, I rushed over to help him. He had the bluest eyes I had ever seen. Much like his daughter.” She smiled as she played the piano, stealing a glance at Roz, who stared at nothing in particular. “I was awkward and shy. He was the same. But he held out his slender hand. ‘I’m Roger Weston,’ he said so softly it was almost a whisper. And for a moment, I couldn’t remember my own name.” Helen stopped and laughed along with Roz. “I was seventeen. He was twenty-two, and we fell in love right there in a musty old library and never looked back. Kathleen is very much like her father. Willful and stubborn…”

“So unlike her mother.”

“Don’t be sassy. Kit was lost until she found a certain skinny landscaper. Remember when we first met?”

Roz laughed. “I do.”

“You were filthy and very unladylike. I have no idea what my daughter saw in you.”

“For the life of me, neither did I,” Roz said.

“But when you stood up to her and wouldn’t take any of her Weston guff, she fell in love with you in spite of her stubbornness. I did, too. You were each other’s perfect foil.”

“Yeah, well, your daughter…”

“And if you two don’t stop this foolishness…” Helen grinned then and started playing another song.

Roz glared. “Helen…”

Helen sang, “I can’t give you anything but love—”

Roz laughed. “You’re—”

“Baby,” Helen sang happily.

“Certifiable,” Roz finished.

“That’s what I’ve been saying to her for years.”

Roz’s head shot up when she heard Kit’s voice. Her grin faded when she saw Dale right behind her, holding the bottle of champagne.

“Oh, look! It’s
Kit’n
Dale,” Helen announced with a devilish grin.

Kit’s jaw clenched. “Where’s Bess?”

“She’s still dressing. She’s worse than you,” Helen said.

“And her date is at the table,” Roz said. “Poor bastard. He’ll have a long wait. I’d better go see if he needs a drink.”

“I didn’t know you played, Mrs. Weston. What song is that?” Dale leaned on the piano when Roz stepped back.

“It’s an old song,” Helen said wistfully.

“From the seventies?” Dale asked.

Helen looked from Dale to Kit and whispered in exasperation, “Seriously, Kit.”

Kit ignored her mother’s comment and walked to the fireplace to warm her hands. “I heard there’s a cold front coming in.” She glanced at Roz, who rearranged the magazines on the coffee table.

“Yeah. I brought up some firewood. So we’ll have wood.”

“That’s good.”

“Well, we’ll need plenty of it once that cool front comes in.” Roz stopped and shook her head. What a stupid conversation. But then she heard Dale talking with Helen.

“Well, how should I know? I wasn’t born during World War II,” Dale said seriously.

Helen smiled sweetly as she played. “There are interesting buildings most cities and towns have. It’s called a library. They’re not hard to find. They usually have the word library on the front of the building. And they have these marvels called books, you see, and enlightened people…”

Dale laughed. “Oh, Mrs. W., you’ve got a great sense of humor.”

“I really wasn’t... Never mind, dear.”

Now the wood conversation didn’t seem so bad.

“Roz, how about an
apéritif
?” Helen called out as she stopped playing. “Sherry?”

“Sure, Helen. It’s a good thing I called that wine distributor. He suggested sherry. I never would have thought of it.”

“It’s kismet!” Helen said.

Roz laughed. “Yes, it was fate.”

Dale’s head shot up. “That’s what it means?” she asked Kit, who closed her eyes.

Helen looked to the ceiling. “Library, library…”

“Would anyone else like something?” Roz interjected and looked at Kit.

“Sherry’s fine, thanks.”

“Can I get a light beer?” Dale asked. “Got anything local? Oh, can you put this back on ice? We’ll have it at the table.”

“Sure,” Roz said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Should we go into the dining room?” Dale asked.

“No, no. You enjoy the fire and the piano. I’ll bring them out to you.”

“She’s a good host,” Dale said as Roz disappeared into the dining room. “She really has it made here. I mean, this place is wicked cool. Don’t you think so, Mrs. W.?”

“Yes, dear. Very wicked.” Helen got up with a groan. She leaned on her cane as she walked over to one of the overstuffed chairs. “
Ahh
.” She eased down into the plush cushion. “Kit, why don’t you play?”

Dale shot an incredulous look from Helen to Kit. “You play the piano?”

“You didn’t tell Dale?”

“No,” Kit said. “It never really came up.”

“But you know all about Dale and her sky jumping.”

“Diving, Mrs. W.,” Dale gently corrected her.

“But you jump, not dive.” Helen waved her off. “Nevertheless, you leap out of a perfectly safe plane.”

Roz walked in carrying a tray with their drinks. After each took her respective cocktail, Roz looked around. “Are we all set?”

“For now. Thank you, Roz,” Helen said, sipping the wine. “Very good. Now, Dale, why do you like to jump out of planes?”

Kit glanced at Roz, who smiled and sat down. Helen watched Kit, whose jaw clamped so tight, Helen thought she heard her teeth grinding.

“Well,” Dale started, taking a drink of her beer. “I suppose I like the thrill and the danger of it. It’s a rush, you know?”

“I suppose,” Helen said, sitting back. “And you get the same rush, as you call it, when you climb?”

“Yes, I do. I can’t explain the thrill, the excitement of knowing one wrong move, one slip…”

“Like a relationship?” Helen asked innocently.

Kit groaned loudly into her glass of sherry while Roz continued to smile.

“Relationships?” Dale seemed completely befuddled by the comparison. “I don’t think so. If your chute doesn’t open or you fall while climbing, you could die. If a relationship doesn’t work you…”

“You what, dear?” Helen asked softly.

“Well, I guess you just move on to the next. You don’t die.” She shrugged with a chuckle and drank her beer.

“There are many ways to die.” Helen looked from Kit to Roz.

Roz’s grin faded when she looked at Kit, who stared at the fire.

“Wow, that’s deep, Mrs. W.”

Kit smiled then. “Too deep for the eve of my birthday. And I for one enjoy your honesty. It’s refreshing. Because you’re right. You don’t die. Oh, perhaps part of you does. But you pick up the pieces, and yes, you move on.”

Roz stood. “I need to get back to the kitchen. You can come into the dining room whenever you’re ready. I’ll have the champagne brought to your table. Until then, enjoy the fire.” Without another word, she walked out of sight.

Kit glared at her mother. “Are you satisfied?”

Dale looked from Helen to Kit. “Is there something…?”

“Are you?” Kit repeated.

“No. Not yet,” Helen said. “Now play something for us.”

“Yes, please play. I had no idea.” Dale stood by the piano. “All this talk of dying. Good grief, it’s your birthday weekend.” She gently nudged Kit toward the piano.

Kit grudgingly sat and ran her fingers over the keys.

Helen watched her, knowing all the memories that must be flashing through her mind right now. She raised an eyebrow and sat back. “Play that old one by Doris Day…what was it?” Helen thought for a moment. “Something about the one I love belonging—”

“No.”

“Why not?” Dale asked. “C’mon. I’ve never heard of it. Who wrote it?”

“Gus Kahn,” Helen said, grinning. “Yes, I know. Don’t tell me. You’ve never heard of him.”

“Pick something else, Mother,” Kit said sternly.