Once in a Blue Moon (9 page)

“Speaking of which, when are you and Grant going to make it official? Paul says there’s an office pool betting on when you two decide to tie the knot.” Amanda’s brown eyes crinkled above the rim of her wineglass as she lifted it to her lips.

Lindsay felt her cheeks warm, though she was sure Amanda was being facetious about the office pool. She and Grant had discussed marriage, of course—maturely and intelligently, like two adults—but there were some major obstacles before they could take that leap. “Your guess is as good as mine,” she replied lightly.

She glanced over at Miss Honi, who was regaling the guests at her end of the table with the tale of how her car had been totaled after she’d unwittingly parked it in a construction zone. “It was the darnedest thing,” she said. “Foreman called me up to say how sorry he was, though anyone with eyes in their head could see it was my fault. Well, next thing I knew, he was introducing me to his widowed dad. That’s how I come to know Charlie, the dearest, sweetest man who ever lived—God rest his soul. He’s gone now. Though it figures I’d find love at the end of a wrecking ball, given my history with men.”

The comment was greeted by a round of chuckles, with Miss Honi basking in the limelight. She was never more comfortable than when performing to a rapt audience.
If only I could be more like her
, thought Lindsay. Fun-loving and not shy about saying whatever was on her mind, even if it was to a roomful of strangers.

Just then she caught sight of her sister at the other end of the table, scowling at Amanda’s husband, who was seated to her right. In a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, she snapped, “No, I do
not
have a tattoo on my ass. And even if I did, you’d be the last person I’d show it to!”

An awkward silence fell over the table, and every head turned toward Kerrie Ann and the somewhat inebriated-looking Paul Newsome, whose face was the same shade as the plum-colored tablecloth. Lindsay heard a choked cry and turned to see Amanda’s face drained of color. Her heart sank.

Paul attempted to make light of the situation, flashing a grin and giving the shrug of the misunderstood. Which only served to anger Kerrie Ann further. “You know what pisses me off the most?” she went on in the same loud voice, her eyes glittering and hectic stripes standing out on her cheeks. “Dudes like you, that’s what. You think just ’cause you wear a fancy watch and went to college, someone like me is gonna fall all over you. Well, I have news for you, buddy—I ain’t interested. In fact, you can kiss my sweet ass, ’cause that’s the closest you’ll ever get to it!”

The even deeper silence that ensued spoke louder than any words. Some of the guests became suddenly preoccupied with what was on their plates while others cleared their throats and reached for their wineglasses. Lindsay just sat there, feeling as if she were trapped in a nightmare.

It was Miss Honi who took matters in hand, defusing the situation with a dose of Texas-style irreverence. “Sugar,” she drawled to Kerrie Ann, “if all men thought with the head on their shoulders, there wouldn’t be no call for us gals to get our dander up over every dumb thing a fella says when he’s had too much to drink.” She waggled a scolding finger at the “fella” in question. “Somebody get that boy some good strong coffee. Either that or we’ll have to hose him down.”

The tension broke, and a ripple of laughter went around the table. Miss Honi had effectively reduced the offense to that of a naughty schoolboy, thus making it possible for them to move on. All except the unfortunate Amanda, who stabbed at her smoked trout with her fork as if it were still alive and she needed to impale it before it could wriggle off her plate.

Somehow they made it through the rest of the meal, after which they retired to the living room for coffee and dessert. Miss Honi entertained some of the guests with more of her colorful tales. Lindsay managed to appear composed while fielding questions about various books currently on the bestseller list. Grant rallied as well, telling about a trip he’d taken to the Galapagos Islands the previous year at the special invitation of the Venezuelan government. No one appeared to notice Kerrie Ann, who’d retreated into a corner, where she sat sipping a diet soda and staring out the window.

Before long it was mercifully time to go. Wanting a moment alone with Grant before they took their leave, Lindsay followed him into the bedroom when he went to collect their coats. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for,” he assured her.

“But my sister—”

He cut her off before she could finish. “There’s no need to apologize for your sister. I’m sure Paul had it coming. He has a bit of a reputation, if you want to know the truth.” Grant drew her into his arms, dropping a kiss on the end of her nose. “Don’t worry, this will all sort itself out.”

She didn’t know if he was referring to tonight’s incident or the larger issue of her socially challenged sister. “How can you be so sure?” She stared down at the pile of coats on the bed, where the fuzzy white collar of Miss Honi’s decidedly un-PC rabbit chubby was sticking out from under a chic sky-blue trench coat with a Saks Fifth Avenue label.

“Because I know you,” he said.

It came rushing back to her once more, the years in which she’d had to shoulder the burden of caring for her little sister at an age when her only worry should have been getting good grades. She remembered how scared and overwhelmed she’d felt and was certain that if it hadn’t been for Miss Honi, she’d have been crushed by the weight of all that responsibility.

What she wanted more than anything right now was for someone else—Grant—to take charge. But that wasn’t going to happen. Besides, what could he do? Kerrie Ann was her sister, not his. Her responsibility. One way or another, she would just have to find a way to sort it out on her own.

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

K
ERRIE
A
NN COULD TELL
her sister was pissed off. Lindsay sat stick-straight in the passenger seat as Kerrie Ann drove, her silence speaking louder than any words. Even the normally talkative Miss Honi, in the backseat, was subdued.

Finally the tension became too much.

“Will somebody please just say it?” Kerrie Ann burst out. “You think it’s my fault, don’t you?”

“No one’s blaming you, sugar,” said Miss Honi. “That fella had it coming from what I could see.”

Lindsay broke her tight-lipped silence to reply in a carefully measured tone, “Maybe so, but not everything has to be aired in public. Sometimes it’s better just to . . . overlook certain things rather than make a scene.”

Kerrie Ann couldn’t deny that her sister had a point, but she bristled nonetheless. “Oh, so when some creep’s got his hand on your thigh and is whispering in your ear that he’d like to see what’s tattooed on your ass, you should just compliment him on his tie?” she replied sarcastically.

“All I’m saying is that sometimes, in situations like these, you have to take other people into account.”

Just then her sister could have been any of the countless schoolteachers who’d reprimanded Kerrie Ann over the years—for sounding off in class, wearing a skirt that was too short, smoking in the girls’ bathroom, not handing in her homework assignment on time.

“I’m not saying the guy isn’t a . . . that he didn’t do those things,” Lindsay went on. “But he also happens to be Grant’s partner. And did you see the look on his wife’s face? The poor woman!”

“I know somebody who’ll be in the doghouse when he gets home,” piped up Miss Honi, sounding almost gleeful at the prospect. “Kibbles and bits, that’s what he’ll be eating from now on.”

“Why should I feel sorry for her?” Kerrie Ann’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “She married him, didn’t she? And I never met a guy like that whose wife didn’t know the score.”

“Even if that’s true of Amanda, she wouldn’t have wanted it broadcast to everyone at the table. She didn’t deserve that. She’s a nice woman.”

“Really? I thought she was stuck-up.” Kerrie Ann hadn’t really thought that, but she’d felt so hopelessly out of her depth around the other guests—people far more cultured and educated than she, who measured their lives in accomplishments rather than failures—that it was easier to portray them in a bad light than to admit to herself that she was a loser.

It didn’t help, either, that Lindsay was leaping to the woman’s defense while ignoring the insult to her sister. “How would you know? You barely spoke to her. Anyway, that’s not the point.”

The feeble voice of reason in Kerrie Ann’s head warned her to back off, but her temper got the better of her. “Yeah, but it kind of is,” she said. “See, that’s the thing. Here you are, all worried about
her
feelings, while I’m supposed to just suck it up?” She shook her head in disgust. “Story of my life. I was hoping it would be different with my own sister, but apparently not.”

Lindsay didn’t respond. But in the intermittent glare from oncoming headlights, Kerrie Ann took note of the grave look on her face and experienced a mild rush of panic. It was the same look she’d seen, growing up, on the faces of the adults in her life whenever she’d pushed one of them too far. Then it was
So long, kid
, and on to the next stop. Would Lindsay send her on her way, too? Before she’d even have a chance to tell her about Bella? Kerrie Ann felt panicky at the thought. But she probably deserved it. Already she was shaping up to be as lousy a sister as she was a mother.

But when Lindsay finally spoke, it was in a tone more hurt than accusatory. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said. “But honestly, I can’t imagine how I could’ve given you that impression.”

Kerrie Ann glanced once more at her sister, at the clean, uncluttered lines of her profile, the understated gold hoop earring peeking from the sheaf of smooth brown hair that lay across her cheek. So pretty, so composed . . . and so utterly alien. She shook her head and said, “Look, I’m not the cute little kid you used to know. So let’s do us both a favor and not drag this out. First thing tomorrow, I’ll be on my way. No hard feelings, okay?” Better to make a preemptive strike than to be on pins and needles for the rest of the drive home.

Lindsay cast her a startled look. “Why on earth would I want you to leave? You just got here.” She paused before continuing in a more conciliatory voice, “Let’s not blow this out of proportion. I’m sure after a good night’s rest, we’ll be able to put it in perspective and move on.”

“Amen to that.” Miss Honi reached over the seat to give Kerrie Ann’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

She felt guiltier than ever for having made such a royal mess of things—starting with having cornered Lindsay into taking her to the party in the first place. She should have known it would be a bust. She should have left well enough alone. “Sorry if I wrecked your boyfriend’s party,” she said. Apologies didn’t come easily for her, but she managed to inject a note of sincerity.

It must have been enough to satisfy Lindsay because the tightness went out of her face. “You didn’t wreck it.” She gave a small, grudging smile. “At least no one can say it was boring. And I’m sure it’s not the first time Paul’s gotten chewed out for putting his hand where it didn’t belong.”

“Men!” pronounced Miss Honi. “Sugar, if you rounded up all the ones who pulled that on me, the line would stretch all the way from here to Tulsa.” She chuckled to herself. “I remember this one time, back in the day, one of the customers followed me outside after my show. Tried to kiss me, and when I wouldn’t let him, he wrestled me to the ground right there in the parking lot. Must’ve figured I owed him for the twenty he’d tipped me.”

Lindsay said in a shocked voice, “You never told me about that!”

“What happened?” Kerrie Ann asked, wanting to know how the story ended. Through the years, she’d found herself in similarly compromising positions, so she knew it was sometimes best just to roll over and play dead. But somehow she couldn’t see Miss Honi doing that.

She knew she’d guessed right when Miss Honi said, “When he dropped his trousers, I took one look and started to laugh—couldn’t help myself. So I says to him, ‘You’re gonna rape me with
that
?’”

“You didn’t!” Lindsay gasped.

“Believe it,” she said, and Kerrie Ann didn’t doubt it. The way Miss Honi had handled the creep at the party had shown her what the old lady was made of: There was a core of titanium beneath that candy-coated exterior. “It worked, too. His you-know-what shriveled up on the spot, and he slunk off like a whupped dog. I suppose I could’ve just as easily gotten myself killed—though if he’d had a gun, it woulda been the only heat he was packing.”

Kerrie Ann burst out laughing, and after a valiant effort to restrain herself, Lindsay joined in. It acted as a pressure valve, releasing some of the tension that had built up.

They arrived back in Blue Moon Bay shortly before midnight. As Kerrie Ann drove along the road to the house, the darkness was as vast and deep as the ocean she could hear murmuring in the distance, the only thing alleviating it was the flash of feral eyes in the underbrush, reflecting the glare of her headlights. Even the stars were obscured; all she could make out were the dark shapes of trees and the house in the distance.

Kerrie Ann knew she couldn’t put off much longer telling Lindsay the real reason she’d come. The longer she waited, the worse it would look; Lindsay would feel duped. But it was late, and they were tired, and after the incident at the party, it might be best to wait until morning. She was still debating the matter when she pulled up in front of the house.

Before long they were settled in her sister’s room with the lights out, Lindsay in her antique pencil-post bed and Kerrie Ann in the daybed by the window. Lindsay had given her a flannel granny gown to wear—the shorty pajamas Kerrie Ann had brought were too flimsy for this climate—and though it was hardly her style, she was grateful for its warmth as she burrowed under the covers. But sleep wouldn’t come; she was still too wired from the day’s events and plagued by worries about the future. She knew what she had to do.

“Lindsay, are you awake?” she called softly.

“Mmm?” Lindsay murmured groggily.

“Um, there’s something you should know.”

“What?”

“When we were talking before, back at the shop, about families and stuff, I didn’t tell you that I—” She broke off, reluctant to blow whatever goodwill she might still have left.

“I’m listening,” Lindsay coaxed.

Kerrie Ann closed her eyes and blew out a breath. “I have a daughter. Her name’s Bella. She’s six.”

There was a rustle of covers, and when she opened her eyes, she could see Lindsay sitting up in bed, a pale shape in her ruffled nightgown, framed by the dark wood of the headboard. “Why didn’t you say something?” If she’d been sleepy a moment before, she was wide awake now.

“I was afraid you’d judge me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I wasn’t a very good mom. Don’t get me wrong—I love my daughter more than anything. But I . . . I messed up.” Kerrie Ann held herself clenched against the tears that threatened. “I won’t go into all the gruesome details. Let’s just say I was into drugs. It got so bad toward the end, I pretty much checked out—even on my own kid.”

“Where is she now?”

“Foster care. I lost custody of her six months ago after the cops raided my place.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been hard,” said Lindsay in a soft, faraway voice, as if remembering the day she and Kerrie Ann had been taken away under similar circumstances.

“You have no idea.” Just talking about it made her feel sick to her stomach. “I was so scared. Mad as hell, too. But I don’t blame them now—they were just doing their job. A good thing, too. It forced me to face what I’d become. That very day, I checked into rehab.”

“I see.” There was a beat of silence as Lindsay absorbed this new and disturbing piece of information. Finally she asked, “What about her father? Where is he?”

“Who knows? Jeremiah’s been out of the picture for years. He left when she was a baby.” Kerrie Ann fingered the heart pendant on her necklace, wondering for the umpteenth time where he was now. She didn’t even know if he was dead or alive. “So you see, I have only myself to blame. Guess I’m like our mother in more ways than one.”

“You can’t compare yourself to her. She never gave a damn about us.”

“What does it matter if the end result is the same?”

Lindsay leaned forward, asking, “The real question is, where do you go from here?”

“Believe me, I’m doing everything I can to get her back. I hired a lawyer, and I go to twelve-step meetings—just got my six-month chip. Plus I’ve been working hard to save up for my own place, something near a good school. But it hasn’t been easy, you know?”

“Well, it sounds like you’re doing all the right things.”

“Yeah, but it’s not enough. That’s why I’m here. I need your help.”

Her sister replied guardedly, “If it’s money you need, I’ll give you what I can, of course. But I’m afraid I don’t have much.”

Kerrie Ann bolted upright in bed. “You think I came to hit you up for a loan?” But why wouldn’t Lindsay assume that? She didn’t know her from Adam, and Kerrie Ann hadn’t exactly demonstrated herself to be the kind of person who was above such things. She was quick to assure her sister, “I don’t want your money!” Though what she was about to ask was an even bigger favor. Finally she bit the bullet and came out with it. “Listen, the thing is, I was told I’d stand a better chance in court if I had at least one family member as backup. I, um, was hoping that person could be you.”

When Lindsay didn’t answer right away, she hastened to add, “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I won’t blame you if you say no. I can’t even promise I’ll be on my best behavior all the time. I’ll try, but sometimes my mouth has a mind of its own.” As Lindsay had already witnessed tonight. “Just think about it. That’s all I ask.”

The ensuing silence rippled like water from a flung stone. Kerrie Ann remained bolt upright, wide-eyed even in her exhaustion, her heart thudding. Finally Lindsay’s tired-sounding voice came floating toward her, “Let me sleep on it, okay?”

It wasn’t the response Kerrie Ann had hoped for, but it wasn’t what she’d dreaded, either. She lowered herself onto her back, staring up at the shadows scudding across the ceiling from the wind blowing through the branches of the tree outside. “Yeah, sure,” she replied softly. “Well, good night.”

No response. After a minute or so came the soft sound of snoring.