Loving Laura (The Cantrelle Family Trilogy) (27 page)

And then he was gone and she was alone in the darkness.

Alice, I’ve decided to go home to California.”

“Oh, Laura!” Alice looked stricken. “Why?”

Laura picked at her paper napkin. “I just think it’ll be better for me if I do. Besides, I have some unfinished business to take care of.”

“You’re running away,” Alice said softly.

“No, not really.”

“Laura, don’t go. Please. Leaving won’t solve anything. And you have so many people here who care about you. There’s nothing for you in California.”

Laura sighed. In the weeks since Neil’s departure, she had become resigned to her situation. But without explaining about the baby, she knew it would be hard to make Alice understand. “There’s nothing for me here except constant reminders of what I’ve lost. Besides, staying here will only encourage Norman to think maybe someday we’ll work something out. And that’s never going to happen. It’s not fair to him. He needs to get on with his life. Find someone else.” She shrugged. “No, it’s best for everyone if I go”

Alice’s gray eyes were suspiciously shiny. “Damn that Neil!”

“Don’t blame Neil.” Laura attempted a smile. “I’m just as much to blame as he is.”

“Oh, I know. It’s just that I wish things could be different.” Her eyes were filled with sympathy. “Laura, things will get better. I know you don’t think so now, but they will.”

Laura nodded.

“I hate seeing you so unhappy.”

“I’ll live.”

Alice reached across the table and covered Laura’s hand with her own. The loving gesture brought a lump to Laura’s throat. She would miss Alice so much. She would miss all of them so much. But she
couldn’t
stay in Patinville. She would begin showing soon. As a matter of fact, if she hadn’t been so miserable the past month or so, and lost some weight, she would probably already be showing. And if Norman or anyone else in his family were to find out... well, it didn’t bear thinking about.

“How soon are you going?”

“As soon as I tell Norman and help him find someone to replace me.”

“No one can replace you!” Alice said stubbornly.

Laura leaned over, and they hugged. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For being my friend. For not judging me.”

Alice drew back from the embrace. She assumed a mock frown. “What do you mean, not judging you? I think you’re a rotten, terrible person.”

Laura laughed, and some of the tension she’d been feeling melted away. Everything would work out. It had to. She didn’t just have herself to think about anymore. She had a precious life inside her, a legacy of the love she felt for Neil. She’d made the right decision.

* * *

Sixteen days later, on a warm April afternoon, Laura took a deep breath, tried to still the butterflies in her stomach, and knocked on the door of the small frame house in West Covina. It had only taken her two days to track her mother down. It hadn’t been hard at all once she’d located Barbara Wasowski, who had been Ginger’s best friend for years.

She looked around. The house was in a middle-class neighborhood, eons removed from the kinds of places she and Ginger used to live in. Typical of Los Angeles area homes, the yard was postage-stamp sized and filled with an assortment of hardy plants. Hydrangea bloomed on either side of the front walk, and Laura wondered if her mother had developed a latent green thumb.

She knocked again. This time the door opened, and Ginger stood there staring at her with shocked, aquamarine eyes. She looked the same, but she looked different. Her hair was still a carefully colored platinum blonde, and she still wore too much makeup, but she’d lost weight, and her skin had a healthier hue.

“Hello, Mother,” Laura said. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Laura! Well, I’ll be...” Ginger smoothed her fawn-colored gabardine slacks over her hips. “Well, sure, come on in.” She stood aside, and Laura walked past her into the sunny house. Ginger gestured toward the living room on the left, which was two steps down from the entry hall. Laura followed her, looking around with interest. The house was clean but too modern for Laura’s taste. She sat on one end of the white sectional sofa, and Ginger sat across from her in a black leather and chrome director’s chair.

“I thought maybe you was dead,” Ginger said. She picked up a pack of cigarettes from the glass coffee table, shook one out of the pack, and lighted it with a big silver lighter. Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her legs and blew a perfect smoke ring into the air. Her eyes held a speculative look.

“No, I’m very much alive.” Funny how calm she felt now.

Ginger betrayed her own nervousness by tapping the fingernails of her left hand on the chrome arm of her chair, the long, red nails making a clicking sound.

For a long moment, their eyes locked. There were so many things Laura had planned to say, but now she didn’t think any of them were very important.

“Whadda you want?” Ginger said.

Sadness filled Laura. “I only wanted to see you,” she said softly. “To find out how you were doing.” To put my past to rest.

“I’m doing just great! I’m married now. Did you know that?” Ginger’s tone was defiant, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes, something that had already disappeared.

“Yes, Barbara told me. That’s how I found you.”

“Yeah, I thought so. That Barbara always did have a big mouth.”

“Are you happy, Mother?”

There it was, that same flash of some emotion, but it was quickly veiled. She shrugged, leaned forward to stub out her cigarette. “Joe gives me plenty of money. Takes me to Vegas. Likes to show me off. Sure. I’m happy.”

“I’m glad,” Laura said. “You deserve some good luck.”

Ginger’s head jerked up. Her eyes narrowed. “Still the same goody-two-shoes, aren’t you? Who’re you tryin’ to kid? There’s never been any love lost between us, so don’t act like you care about me.” She stood up, two angry red spots firing her cheeks. “Why’d you come here? Do you need money?”

Laura shook her head sadly. “No.” She sighed, picked up her purse and stood. “No. I don’t need anything.”

Ginger glared at her.

Why had she come? There was nothing for her here. There never had been. She had known that all along, but somehow she’d had to see her mother one last time.

She looked at her mother. She no longer hated her. She just felt sorry for her. Ginger was missing out on so much. But it was her loss, not Laura’s. Laura put her purse protectively in front of her stomach. “Good luck, Mother. I hope things continue to work out well for you.”

As she turned to leave, she saw the uncertainty slide across Ginger’s face. Laura stopped. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she walked over and put her arms around Ginger. Ginger’s body was stiff and unyielding as Laura hugged her, but as Laura broke the hug and moved back, Ginger’s right hand fluttered up as if she wanted to touch Laura, then dropped back to her side. Her face twisted.

“Goodbye, Mother,” Laura whispered. She didn’t look back as she walked away from her past and into the light.

* * *

Neil laid aside his volume of poetry. He’d been reading Longfellow, one of his favorites, but it was no good. He might as well give up. He sighed, and at the sound Zoe staggered to her feet, yawned and stretched, then padded quietly over to where he sat on the top step of the porch. She nuzzled against his hand, and he absently scratched behind her ears. Her silky fur was warm from the sun.

It had been a hot day. Neil’s olive drab T-shirt was damp with sweat. The whole summer had been relentlessly hot, and it was only the end of July. Hurricane season was just around the corner. Then winter. Then Christmas.

Christmas.

As a kid, Neil had always loved Christmas. Bittersweet memories of past Christmases floated through his mind.

The big family reunion that always took place, with relatives from all corners of Louisiana and Texas converging on his parents’ home in Patinville. The toe-tapping frenzy of the Cajun music that played around the clock. The laughter and backslapping of his father and uncles as they played
bourree,
a favorite card game. The chatter and gossip of his mother and aunts and sisters as they stirred endless pots of steaming gumbo and spicy jambalaya. The redolent smells of the turkey roasting in the oven and the boudin sausage grilling on the outdoor barbecue. The giggles and shouts of his cousins as he and Norman and his sisters joined them in noisy games of tag and hide-and-seek. Those had been happy, carefree days.

And then last Christmas. Last Christmas seemed an eternity away. Last Christmas... and Laura.

All day he’d been fighting thoughts of Laura. But that was nothing new. Ever since he’d returned to Cudjoe Key, thoughts of her had never been far away. It didn’t matter what he was doing or where he was, everything reminded him of her. Here at the shack, he heard her whisper in the sound of the surf, her laughter in the music of the brass wind chimes he’d hung in a moment of weakness. When he was out with a group fishing for permit or bonefish or tarpon, her ocean-blue eyes and sun-golden freckles were everywhere he looked. Her crystal image danced through his mind like the rays of the sun danced over the sea. He’d thought memories of her would fade. Instead, they seemed to grow stronger with each passing day. He couldn’t seem to let her go.

Getting up, he walked inside. He opened the battered footlocker that served as his chest of drawers, and slowly, from under a stack of clean underwear, withdrew a cigar box. He opened it and removed the photograph. It was a picture that had been taken the night of the party—the night before he left Patinville. His mother had snapped the photo. Norman had sent it to him. Neil had handled it so many times, it was frayed around the edges.

He studied it now. Norman had his arms around Laura on one side and Alice on the other. All three were smiling, but Neil looked only at Laura. She’d looked so beautiful that night. So very beautiful in her turquoise dress that echoed the color of her eyes. An old, familiar pain throbbed within as he remembered the feel of her slender body, the scent of her skin and hair, the taste of her mouth.

Laura.

The pain settled into a dull ache as he drank in the details of her face, which was tilted toward Norman. How was she?

Where was she?

That was the question that had been torturing him for days. Ever since he’d received Alice’s letter.

He’d had very little news of home after his return to Cudjoe Key. Norman’s letter-writing skills were still impossible. He had only written twice, and neither letter contained any reference to Laura. Only the picture with a cryptic note.
Look at me with the two prettiest girls in town.

Denise, whose letters were more informative, had only written once. She did mention Laura but only to say she was worried about her because she hadn’t seemed to be feeling well.
She seems unhappy. Even Jeannine mentioned it the other day.
Those words haunted Neil for weeks.

Finally, in desperation, hungry to know anything at all, Neil wrote to Alice. She was the only person he could openly ask about Laura.

And one week ago today, he’d had his reply. He’d picked up his mail at Gastin’s, and when he saw the return address on the pale yellow envelope, he wanted to tear the letter open then and there. But Gastin was standing there expecting Neil to have a cold beer with him—their regular ritual whenever Neil came to the store—and Neil knew the letter would have to wait. For the first time, his visit with Gastin seemed interminable and he could hardly concentrate on the garrulous old man’s conversation. But finally, he said he’d better get going. Zoe was waiting at home, and she was probably hungry.

“Shouldn’t wait ’til you’re outta dog food ’fore you come shoppin’,” Gastin said. Then he grinned and threw a big rawhide bone into Neil’s grocery sack. “Present from me.”

“You spoil her,” Neil said, but he gave Gastin an affectionate shoulder squeeze, then waved goodbye.

He almost stopped his bike as soon as he knew he was out of earshot of Gastin’s place. But he told himself not to be crazy. He could wait another fifteen minutes or so. Hadn’t he already waited months?

Even after he got back to the cottage, he forced himself to wait. He put his groceries away and shook some dry dog food into Zoe’s bowl and grabbed a can of cold beer from his refrigerator. Only then did he take the letter, along with his beer, and walked outside. Leaning his back against the porch post, he sat on the top step and opened the flap of the letter. He scanned the beginning quickly, only slowing down when he reached the part that most interested him.

You asked about Laura. I couldn’t believe you didn’t know. I thought surely Norman must have written to you. But then I realized Norman probably isn’t much of a letter writer. Neil, Laura left Patinville back around the end of April. We all tried to talk her out of going, but she was determined. She explained to me that it wasn’t fair of her to stay, that Norman would never get on with his life if she were still around. I knew she was right, but I hated to see her go. And Neil, I have to be honest with you, she wasn’t handling your going back to Florida as well as you’d hoped she would. I was very angry with you, but she told me not to be. She said what had happened between the two of you was as much her fault as yours.

I know that you will want to know where she is, so before you write back, I might as well save you the trouble. I don’t know. She said she was going back to California, that she had some unfinished business to take care of. And that’s all. I haven’t heard from her, and I have no idea how to get in touch with her.

The end of April. Laura’d been gone from Patinville for months and he hadn’t known. His heart beat in slow, heavy thuds as the import of Alice’s words sank into his brain.

Neil hadn’t slept well that night. He dreamed of Laura and the way she looked the evening at Alice’s. And every day since, everything that had happened between them was replayed in his head. He remembered Alice’s words of advice months ago, when she’d told him she believed in the truth and its strength. All week he’d been thinking and thinking.