Like Arrows (Cedar Tree #6) (15 page)

"All of his girls?" I interrupt.

"Mom, my sister Britta and me."

I knew from the research I'd done when I was still unsure how she fit into the land deals that she hails from Grand Junction and her dad, a well-liked judge, passed away when she was barely out of school. Her sister, a successful lawyer in her own right. But I wanted her to tell me herself.

"Dad didn't care about the food rules Mom enforced on all of us, he'd hide food in the desk in his office and would sometimes share something with me. Telling me not to let Mom see me eat. Something I didn't like doing anyway, since she would usually admonish me on the first bite not to 'over-do it. ' "

I don't think she realizes that her body language is enough to tell me her feelings about both her parents. Face softening and body relaxing when talking about her father, but in contrast her shoulders pull up high and her lips tighten when discussing her mom. I have one hand braced on the counter beside her hip, but the other is alternately stroking her back or playing with the ends of her hair. She doesn't seem to notice that either, lost to her memories.

"Britta is my older sister and the spitting image of my mother. When I was maybe only five or six, I already knew I was abnormal."

I have to bite my tongue not to object, but I don't want to stop her words. I can object later.

"It doesn't take much for a child to start believing what they're told enough. It wasn't until I was about to graduate high school that my dad encouraged me to go see a doctor. Find out what was causing my constant sleepiness, the persistent weight gain and the pain in my legs. He never agreed with Mom that I was just lazy. He died two weeks later of a massive heart attack." The last was said on a sob and I cup her face to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," I tell her, understanding how that grief could still live so close to the surface when losing someone who you loved and who loved you in return.

"Was a very long time ago. More than half my life," she admits shaking her head slowly before lifting her red-rimmed eyes up to me. "Still hurts to lose the one person who ever stood up for you, who always accepted you unconditionally. That loss stays...somehow."

I bet it did. "What about your sister? Britta? Did you get along?"

The loud snort I get in response is answer enough, but still she explains. "Britta is three years older, was always the image of perfection. Class valedictorian, cheerleading squad, and the ultimate crowning to her high school years was following in our mother's footsteps and becoming prom queen. She was a tough act to follow, with my average grades and less than athletic abilities. I certainly never had the looks to match hers. No," she says as she shakes her head. "We lived in separate worlds, she and I."

"So I gather you don't have frequent contact with them?"

"Left home right after graduation and moved to Vegas. Worked as a nanny for a wonderful family for years before working as a croupier at the Bellagio."

My eyes shot up to my hairline at that information. Not sure if it wasn't part of the background file, or whether it just didn't register at the time, but the thought of Kim in a little black and white getup, battling wits at some card table was more than just a little hot. Damn. Her soft giggle pulls my mind out of my boxer shorts, and I find her smiling at me.

"Surprised?" she asks a little unsure.

"Yes," I tell her honestly. "But mostly because it seem such a forward kind of job. Shows a side of you that you don't seem to let out much. One I'd really love to see more  of."

Oddly, her face shuts down. "I left Vegas twelve years ago and never looked back. And to answer your earlier question, I get the occasional card from my mother, wishing me a happy birthday or merry Christmas, but I haven't spoken to her in two years. And that was over the phone. My sister, as far as I know, is a successful lawyer in Grand Junction. Other than the occasional call while I was still living in Vegas, I haven't spoken to her either."

I feel I have a clearer picture of Kim now. A better idea of the minefield I'll have to traverse to get inside. And I'm starting to discover that I really do—want to get inside.

"Appreciate you sharing, babe. Don't think I haven't noticed that on top of what you grew up with, Vegas somehow left a hole big enough to drive a Buick through. But I'm not gonna push you on that." The look of relief that flits over her face almost makes me chuckle.

"That doesn't mean we won't get to it at some point."

Still, I'm reminded of something my
aná sáni
used to say. Something about words being like arrows and once you let them find their mark, their power may come back to haunt you.

I wonder how true that might be.

"Coyote is always out there waiting, and Coyote is always hungry."

~Navajo

K
im

"How are things?"

Kerry has called me three times since Saturday to check in with me.

"Quiet. Boring. Even Boo seems to sleep all day," I complain.

"Boo probably sleeps all day every day, you just never saw it," Kerry points out. She may have a point.

"I guess, but that doesn't mean it's not excruciatingly tedious. Ever since a weekend full of all kinds of action, this... quiet is driving me nuts." For some reason Kerry finds this hilarious as I hear her snort into the phone. "Not funny."

"Oh, but you're wrong, it's so very funny. I remember not to long ago when I wasn't even able to get a certain someone to get out of her house for Saturday yoga," she chuckles.

"Shut up. You know what I mean. It's this suspended tension. Waiting for something to happen but nothing does."

"Well, I hope not! Except of course if it's those six feet whatever of ponytailed deliciousness you're talking about, maybe you shouldn't wait for him to make something happen."

"Kerry! You know that's not what I mean. He's just doing his job. Besides, I haven't seen him since Monday morning after he followed me home from picking up my computer and my car at the office," I lie. Well, partially, because I do secretly wish for him to be around. Even though it was me who, after spilling my sordid history to him on Sunday afternoon, has tried to close the door on him. But I was actually referring to wanting these people found so I could go back to my own home and enjoy the warm early April afternoons on the mesa with my pooch.

"I need to find new work. It'll take another few days for me to refer all Martin's clients elsewhere and get the accounting in order so I can hand everything over to the lawyer for his estate, but it's a couple of hours a day at most. I need to have something more to do than twiddle my thumbs the rest of the time."

"Well, how about this? I have to go to Vegas for a five-day book convention. I already have the room. Why don't you come with me? We could easily drive it if we do it together. What do you say?"

The chance to get out of town for a little while would be amazing. Clear my head. Get some distance from Mal, who takes up too much headspace and sees far more than I'm comfortable parting with. And I'd love to see the hustle and bustle of the city again. The only thing holding me back is even the remotest chance of seeing either Peter or Mia again. There's a reason I haven't been back there in twelve years, but maybe I've been allowing it to have too much control over my life. Odds are I'll never see them again, so why would I keep myself from doing something I can get excited about?

"Okay. Provided I can find a solution for Boo."

"Ohhh, I'm so excited! That was the most pregnant pause ever. Don't know what all went through your mind to reach that conclusion, but I'm pumped! As for Boo, I'm sure Greg would take him."

That almost makes me laugh out loud, but I just manage to hold it in, because I don't want to insult her. Greg is a kind man, but Boo absolutely runs circles around him. Quite literally at times.

"Let me see what I can come up with and if that doesn't work, I'll let you know. When are we leaving?"

"I want to be there on Wednesday in the early afternoon. So maybe start driving at dawn? We'll be heading back Sunday midday. Home some time after dinner."

We hang up shortly after that, with my promise not to skip yoga again on Saturday.

I'm excited. I haven't told Kerry about my appointment with Doc Waters yet and frankly, I don't know if I will. Seems silly to worry her when there's likely nothing to worry about. I was glad I'd convinced Mal I could go by myself after he'd helped me bring in my computer following our meeting the sheriff at the office. I have to admit, it was not easy walking back into that building without feeling the terror crawling back up my throat, but I managed to tamp it down. Mainly because of Sheriff Carmel's presence. Don't know why I can't bring myself to call him by his given name. Doesn't seem to stop him from trying to call me Kimeo at every turn. Except this time Mal reminded him in no uncertain terms that I'd told him on numerous occasions not to call me that and that if Mal heard him do it again, he'd have his fist down his throat. That threatened to escalate the situation, because the sheriff accused Mal of threatening an officer of the law. I had enough at that point and simply walked out. Of course Mal came running out after me, angry at me now for 'exposing myself to danger,' his words not mine, and I had a good reason to shove a little wedge deeper into whatever had been bubbling between us. Wouldn't pay to get my hopes up over something that was so clearly a mistake. So it wasn't that difficult to tell him I was quite capable of seeing the doctor by myself, since I now had my car and the clinic being a two minute drive from the house.

It was with reluctance and a lot of jaw grinding that he finally gave in.

Naomi was lovely, and that was nice after spending the moments before observing all the beauty of Kendra, who obviously is way more in Mal's league than I am. Harsh but necessary lessons to learn if I want to get through life without many more scars to my name.

She took me in her office, sat me down and explained in a very matter of fact way that she thinks she may have a reason for my lethargy and aching. Maybe even for my disproportionate weight to my daily calorie intake. She was very gentle when telling me there were a few more things she wanted to test for, but that it would appear something is wrong with my thyroid.

"I wonder if that could cause restless sleep, nightmares, or even the up and down moods I've been experiencing lately," I questioned out loud.

"Generally any problems with thyroid or the nearby pituitary gland have an impact on hormones, and any imbalance could be at the root of any or all of your symptoms. Including those."

"I don't get it. They did several TSH tests, all of them came back within the margin," I pointed out. She explained that it wasn't unusual for those not to show any large deviations. The results of the Free T4 test, however, showed a lower count than normal and my ATA was through the roof. On top of that a faint shadow on the thyroid was detected on the ultrasound. I walked away with assurances not to worry unnecessarily and an appointment for an MRI was scheduled for April twenty-eighth. That would be the Tuesday after I come back from Vegas which suits me just fine. The timing for this trip actually couldn't be more perfect.

Maybe I'd sleep while in Vegas. I haven't had much over the past few days, in part because of nightmares, and the rest of the time worry would keep me awake.

Part of me wishes I hadn't sent Mal packing on Monday, but that easy dependency only confirms how dangerous that fixation could become. Not now. Not when I have my life crumbling apart on all sides.

M
al

It's been tough keeping my distance from Kim. I could feel her defenses go up the moment I told her how revealing her story was to me. I should've kept my mouth shut, but I wanted to let her know I could see her clearly and it didn't matter to me. Wrong thing to do. She did everything from that moment on to negate any headway I might've made with her. Monday morning she refused to let me come to the clinic with her, which I didn't fight very hard. Everything in me screams to grab hold and force her to deal with me in her space, but from what I understand about her now, that could spin in a direction I might not like in the end. She did answer my call Monday night but would only say things were
fine
.
Fine
—how I've come to loathe that word. It is the ultimate lie almost every time it is used. It's a convenient one-syllable answer for anything you might want to hide. A word I had shoved at me for months until it was suddenly not
fine.
It was very much
not
fine when my sister died so suddenly, I didn't have time to get my head around it. The twenty-five or so years after that I spent angry. Wasted time over '
fine.
'

"Mal?"

Kim's voice is unsure when I answer the ringing phone with my usual "
yeah?
"

"What's up?"

"I uhh...was wondering if you could take Boo for a couple of days?"

"What do you mean? What's going on?"

All kinds of thoughts bombard me, the most persistent one a vision of Kim, sick, and alone.