Love Me Tender (31 page)

Cassidy didn't need any man's pity. Dave might say he loved her, but he meant as a friend. She wasn't the kind of person whom people loved, not in the way he had loved Anita.

Building a relationship based on affection and Dave's do-gooder nature worked for a while with him and Jess, but look how it ended up. Even Jess couldn't compete with Anita.

With Cassidy's MS, her own future was so uncertain. Bad enough that she had to wake each morning never knowing what her body might do. That she had no idea whether in five, ten, or forty years she'd be in a wheelchair or unable to speak articulately. No way should Dave, who'd already gone through so much with Anita, have to take that on.

Besides—she touched her fingers to her shoulder—she was the wild goose, always flying solo. It had worked for her when she was eighteen, and worked ever since. She wasn't destined to nest in one place.

Even if Dave, and Caribou Crossing, made the thought undeniably appealing.

 

 

Sunday morning, Cassidy slept in, having spent much of the night tossing and turning. As she stood in the tepid shower—she'd given up her beloved hot showers because heat could exacerbate her symptoms—she pondered what to do.

Where did things stand with Dave? Had she hurt his feelings, rejecting his generous offer so brusquely? Could they still be friends? Could she keep working for him? Maybe it would be best to move on now. To go to Victoria, find another doctor and counseling group.

Whatever feelings Dave had for her, they'd pass once she was gone. Loads of women would volunteer to fill her place. Healthy women. He'd be fine.

That thought should make her happy, rather than depress her.

For heaven's sake, she'd be fine too. MS was her reality now, but within its constraints she'd be fine.

She checked the fridge for breakfast food, finding nothing that appealed to her. Most Sundays when she wasn't working, she had brunch with Ms. H. But Irene was here now. Cassidy was happy for the two women and hoped the reunion was going well, but missed her frequent chats with her landlady, not to mention the delicious meals they put together.

Dressed in yoga pants and a cotton hoodie, she unrolled her yoga mat and started her stretches. Not only was she doing yoga, but she'd added exercises recommended by the physical therapist on her health care team. On days when she was fatigued, it was a slog to exercise, but she was stronger and more flexible, and the routine gave her a sense of calm and control.

This morning, she'd almost found serenity when a firm knock sounded on the hallway door. Ms. H called, “Cassidy? Are you home?”

“Come on in.”

She gazed up from the mat at her landlady, clad this morning in tailored navy pants and a lightweight turquoise sweater. If she left, she would miss this woman a lot.

This was a good reason not to stay in one place for too long: you could get too attached. Best to go now, before parting became even more difficult. And so much for serenity. Now she felt depressed again.

“Irene and I have a broccoli cheddar quiche in the oven. Would you like to have brunch with us?”

“Love to, thanks,” she said promptly. She could use the distraction, the quiche sounded wonderful, and Cassidy was dying to know how things were going with the two old friends.

“Come along when you're ready.”

Cassidy changed the hoodie for a pink and blue plaid shirt, and headed for the kitchen, calling out “Good morning!” to announce her arrival. She found the two women moving companionably around, setting the table and pouring juice. Irene, whom Cassidy had met a few days earlier, was shorter and rounder than Ms. H and had a cheerful face framed by curly white hair. The coral sweater she wore over black pants matched the flush on her cheeks.

“It smells wonderful in here,” Cassidy said. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Irene poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her. “Sit down, dear.”

Normally, Cassidy would have helped out but she could see the two older women had things under control and enjoyed sharing the kitchen. Feeling a little displaced, she took a chair. “Thanks, Ms. Peabody.”

“Oh for heaven's sake, it's Irene.”

“And it's time you stopped calling me Ms. H,” her landlady said. “That's a ridiculous way to address a friend.”

Until now, Cassidy would have had trouble calling her Daphne. Though her landlady had been the kindest, most supportive person imaginable, a slight edge or brusqueness had made her Ms. H. Today there was a softness to the older woman's features, even her movements, that let Cassidy say, “I'll give it a try, Daphne.”

She sipped coffee as the two women finished their breakfast preparations. The natural way they interacted indicated that the reunion was going well.

When they had all served themselves, Irene said, “Did you have a good Halloween, Cassidy? We had so many children around trick-or-treating, in such wonderful costumes.”

“We did,” Daphne agreed.

Normally, her landlady spoke efficiently, avoiding repetition. It was cute the way she savored that “we” as she said it.

“It was amazing.” Cassidy told them about the goings-on in town.

“How delightful,” Irene said. “Perhaps we should go to the town square next year, Daphne, at least for the earlier part of the evening.”

Cassidy smiled and sipped orange juice.

Daphne smiled too, and addressed her. “Yes, Cassidy, we do believe there will be a next year. Irene and I have both been fools for an excessively long time. We worried too much, we made mistakes, we lacked courage.” She reached for the other woman's hand and their aged fingers wove together. “But better late than never.”

“We owe you an immense debt, Cassidy,” Irene said. “Daphne told me it was because of you that she tracked me down.”

“I'm glad I could help.”

“You're a true romantic,” Irene said.

Cassidy gave a snort of laughter. “If you knew me better, you wouldn't say that.”

“Our young friend,” Daphne said, “is skeptical that true love exists. Despite considerable evidence to the contrary.”

“I admit that Caribou Crossing has more than a normal share of happy long-term relationships,” Cassidy said, “and I truly hope yours is one of them. But I'm not the kind of person who's into all that happily ever after stuff.”

“You might be if you gave yourself a chance,” Daphne said, “rather than picking up and moving every few months.”

“I like my gypsy lifestyle.” Even if the idea of leaving Caribou Crossing didn't excite her the way moving on used to. But being a gypsy was the only way she knew how to live, and once she was on the road, her old sense of adventure would reawaken.

“Someone who spends her time wandering is looking for something,” Irene said.

“Sure. New places, experiences, people.”

Thoughtfully, Irene said, “Really? I'd say the opposite. You're looking for a home.”

“Home is where I hang my hat,” she said flippantly.

The two older women exchanged glances; then Irene said, “I'll top your platitude with this one: home is where the heart is.”

And, Cassidy knew, a piece of her own heart would forever be tied to Caribou Crossing. To Daphne Haldenby and Robin Cousins; to the other friends she'd made here.

To Dave.

Inside Dave's suite, Cassidy hung her coat in the closet, pulled off her boots, and slid her sock-clad feet into the sheepskin slippers that sat by the door. Expecting the place to be empty—with Dave at Sally's, as was his custom on Sunday afternoons—she was surprised when Merlin greeted her.

“Hey there, beautiful boy. Why did Dave leave you at home? Oh, right, Sally's boarding that new horse that's paranoid about dogs.”

When Dave had given Cassidy a key, he'd told her to make herself at home anytime she wanted. Now she wasn't sure exactly what she needed, but some instinct had led her here. Her journal was in her bag; maybe she'd curl up on the couch and try to process her thoughts by writing them down, as she'd done many times in the past months.

She picked up a sweater she'd left behind the last time she was over, and noted her travel magazine lying open beside Robin's sketch pad. She thought of her comfy yoga pants and tees folded in Dave's closet, her toothbrush and body lotion in his bathroom. In small ways, she'd started to become part of this home. And Dave had offered her a chance at the real deal.

Toying with the Canada goose pendant that hung around her neck, she gazed out the window. In the town square, chattering groups of people cleared away the Halloween trappings.

The Wild Rose was in the geographic center of Caribou Crossing. More than that, it was the heart of the quirky, vital, historic town. Because Dave was the heart, the person everyone turned to and relied on. Could she imagine herself beside him as his partner in life?

The first and only time Cassidy had truly believed she had a home, she'd been a little kid. In her innocent world, it had never occurred to her that parents might tear a family apart, but hers had done it. When Justine and Luis had reconciled and remarried, things had seemed good at first but she'd never fully trusted in it. And she'd been right; the happy family thing had been an illusion. And then the one person she'd counted on to always be there for her, Gramps, had died. Of course, that hadn't been his fault, but all the same it had been the final straw. Never, since then, had she allowed herself to count on anyone.

Even Dave and Ms. H—no, make that Daphne. Cassidy had, rather grudgingly, taken the support they offered, but she'd never let herself rely on it. Never let herself believe it would always be there. Because, of course, she didn't need it to be. When she had come back to Caribou Crossing, she'd imagined a year, max.

She was doing fine. Sticking needles in her body was routine; the side effects of her treatment were minimal now; the pseudoexacerbations were manageable. If she had another attack—well, she'd deal with that then. There was no reason not to move on.

Or was there every reason to stay?

“I'm so freaking mixed up!”

She had just pulled her journal out of her bag when her phone rang. Her pulse jerked. Dave? What would he say? What would she say?

She didn't have to decide. The number was an unfamiliar one and when she answered, she couldn't believe it. “Justine?” When was the last time she'd spoken to her mother? They exchanged occasional notes on Facebook, but that was it. “Is everything okay?” She could just guess what was going on: her parents were divorcing again.

“I'm here too,
mija
.” It was Luis, his voice slightly muffled.

“Hi, Luis.”

“We're fine, baby,” Justine said, “but how are you? JJ says you have MS? I can't believe you didn't tell us.”

Oh, shit. “He wasn't supposed to tell you.” She was going to kill her brother.

“He didn't mean to. We called him yesterday and it slipped out. But why didn't you tell us?”

“I didn't want to worry you. I'm doing fine. They have much better treatments than back in GG's day.”

“I know. JJ researched it, and so did we.”

Ah yes, the joys of the Internet. “Well, I'm on a DMT.” Was she testing Justine?

If so, her mother passed. “A disease-modifying therapy? Good. Which one?”

“Seriously? Look, I have a good family doctor, a neurologist, and a treatment plan. You don't need to know the details.”

“Don't shut us out,” her father said rather sharply.

“Luis,” her mom said, “calm down. Cassidy, you're coming to JJ's wedding so we'll have an opportunity to talk then.”

If they really did show up, something she'd believe only when she saw it.

“In fact,” Justine said, “we have news. We are moving back to Victoria. We're selling the house here and will buy a new one there.”

“Seriously?” she said again. “Look, I don't want to be rude, but are you sure Victoria's a good place for you? You've lived there twice, and each time, you got divorced.”

“That won't happen this time,” her father said with certainty.

Yeah, right.

“We've changed, baby,” Justine said. “We've always loved each other but we weren't the most mature people . . .” She paused, then said, “I'm waiting for the snort or snide comment.”

“I bit my lip,” Cassidy said truthfully.

“People can learn,” her mother went on. “We don't want to make the same mistakes, or new ones either. We've been seeing a marriage counselor. We're learning to talk about our needs, insecurities, doubts, and fears, rather than keep quiet or fight.”

“That sounds good,” Cassidy admitted. It was a lesson she was learning too, thanks to her counseling group. It was the kind of lesson that, along with a sprinkling of magic dust, kept so many Caribou Crossing marriages strong when problems arose.

Luis said, “We are learning to believe in the strength of the love that has kept us returning to each other for almost thirty years, rather than to doubt it.”

“I'm glad for you. I really hope things work out.” Of course she did. “But why are you going back to Victoria?”

“JJ's getting married,” Justine said. “We want to be part of their lives. He and Mags will have children one day, our grandchildren. We don't want to be those people down in Mexico who send presents on birthdays. We want to be involved.”

She really, really hoped that her parents didn't get JJ's hopes up, then disappoint him.

“We haven't been good parents, baby,” Justine said. “We know that and we're going to do better.”

“That's nice.” It was another thing she'd believe when she saw it.

“We want you to move back to Victoria too,” Luis said.

“What? Me? Why?” She'd been thinking about it herself, but their move wasn't necessarily an incentive.

“So you can be with people who love you,” Justine said. “It's the closest thing you have to a home, and once we were all happy there.”

“A very long time ago,” she pointed out.

“We're all older and wiser,” her mother said. “We want to look after you, baby. To be there for you. And so does JJ, and he says Mags feels the same.”

With JJ and Mags, she might actually believe it. But still, she didn't need to be looked after. “I'm not sick, Justine. I'm working, doing just fine. I'm riding, doing yoga, I'm strong.”

“I'm pleased to hear that,” she said. “But in the treatment of MS, having the support of loved ones is important. You shouldn't be with strangers; you should be with family.”

“We are not a perfect family,
mija,
” Luis said, “but we are yours, and we will do better. Your mother and I promise you that.”

“I . . . I don't know what to say.”

“I know this all comes as a surprise,” Justine said. “You need time to think.”

“I do.”

“We love you, baby,” she said.

“Te amamos,”
Luis affirmed.

“I love you too.” And she did. But at a safe distance, where they couldn't hurt her.

Now they said they wanted to help her. Did she have any reason to trust them? She stared unseeingly out the window as they all said good-bye, and she slid the phone back into her pocket.

A sharp bark made her glance down. Merlin sat at her feet, his head cocked up toward her, a hopeful expression on his face. He wanted a walk; even better, a run. “Yeah, me too.” In fact, she'd love a ride, and knew the poodle would like to come along.

Dave's dog. She'd have to call him. Did she want to?

Yes. She needed to hear his voice. Hear what he had to say. Was he mad at her? Even worse, hurt? Had she perhaps even misunderstood what he was saying last night? The fireworks had been loud. Had she been obsessing for no reason?

Before she could think twice, she pulled out her phone again and called him.

“Cassidy?” he answered.

“Hi.”

“Look, I'm sorry about last night.”

“You are?” So he hadn't meant the things he'd said. She should be glad. Now they could get back to normal. She didn't need to leave. So why did her heart ache?

“I shouldn't have pushed and I shouldn't have walked away.” He sighed. “Hang on a sec.” A moment later he said, “I'm mending fences at Sally's, just wanted to set down my tools.”

Mending fences. She guessed that was what the two of them were doing too. “You didn't exactly push. But I thought we knew how things stood between us, and it seemed like you wanted to change that, though now—” Before she could finish, to say she realized she was wrong, he broke in.

“I do. I love you.”

Her heart gave a startled, stupidly ecstatic leap. Oh God, he really meant it. The idea scared the shit out of her, mainly because of how good it sounded. But it couldn't be true, couldn't work. She wasn't the kind of woman who stuck around. Or the kind people stuck around for.

She shook her head, calmed her racing heart. Dave knew all of that. When he said “love,” he meant friendship-love, like he and Jess had shared as teens. Not love-love.

“And I meant everything I said,” he went on. “Cassidy, if you think there's hope that you could love me, I'll be patient. We can go on the way we have been, and see where that takes us.”

Work with him, play with him, sleep with him, and see where things went? But where could they go? Wasn't it better for her to leave now, before . . . before her heart did any more hoping? And aching?

“But,” his voice grated as he went on, “if there's no hope, I want you to tell me. You can still stay in Caribou Crossing as long as you want, I'll still be on your support team, but I have to know if . . . if I have to stop hoping.”

Stop hoping? Hoping that she'd love him? That sounded almost as if . . . as if he really did love-love her. If that might possibly be true, how could he be so generous? If love meant putting someone else's needs ahead of your own, and if she truly cared for Dave, wouldn't the best thing be to leave and let him find a healthy, whole, less complicated and pigheaded woman? “I need to think,” she whispered.

“Okay.” A pause. “Did you call to tell me that?”

So much had gone through her mind, tugged at her heart, in the last few minutes, she had no idea why she'd called. A glance at Merlin reminded her and energized her. Now, more than ever, she needed to get out on horseback. “I'm going for a ride. Is it okay if I take Merlin?”

“Sure. You'll have your phone?”

“I will.” Even before her diagnosis, Dave hadn't liked the idea of her riding alone. Finally, he'd come to terms with it as long as she took a charged-up phone.

“Do you want to get together tonight?” he asked. “After that, I'll have Robin for a few days.”

Get together and talk? Was there any hope she'd have sorted through the mess in her brain so she had something sensible to say? “Can I let you know later? See how I'm feeling?” By which she referred more to her emotions than her physical state, which she figured he knew.

After they said good-bye, she leashed Merlin and they walked toward her place so she could change into riding clothes.

Maribeth, who was coming out of a gift shop, stopped her. “Cassidy, I was going to call you,” the curvy redhead said. “This gorgeous red sweater came in. Can't have been worn more than a couple times. I almost snagged it myself, but I don't look so great in red. It'd be perfect with your coloring. Want me to hold it for you until you have a chance to pop in?”

If Cassidy left Caribou Crossing, she'd be donating clothes to Days of Your. If she stayed, a red sweater would be perfect for winter. For Christmas. “Can you hold it?”

Next, she came across Karen Estevez, in uniform, taking a report on a car with slashed tires. “It's probably Halloween vandalism,” Karen told the well-dressed couple who owned it. Smiling ruefully at Cassidy, she added, “Caribou Crossing often seems idyllic, but there's a reason we have an RCMP detachment here.”

The town did seem idyllic. It was almost reassuring to be reminded that it wasn't perfect. No place on earth was perfect—as Cassidy, the world traveler, well knew. And no person was perfect. When she'd first arrived here, more than one female had told her that Dave was the perfect man. No, he wasn't. He could be stubborn, high-handed, and overprotective. Maybe that, too, was reassuring.

When she was a little kid, she thought her family was perfect. When her parents tore that family apart, she was shattered. A person shouldn't believe in perfection; it was a façade. Better to see the flaws as well as the strengths, to not expect more than was humanly possible.

Her parents seemed to be admitting to their flaws. They'd never sought marriage counseling before, and on the phone they'd both sounded committed to making things work. They'd apologized to her. They'd said they wanted to be there for her.