One More Time (32 page)

“I see.”

There was an informative response.

“Did you talk to Zach?” she asked, pretending she hadn’t talked to James earlier.

“What?”

“Zach. Did you see him?”

“Oh yeah. Sorry, my thoughts were elsewhere.”

Sharan laughed in the background and Leslie scowled at the counter, knowing damn well where his thoughts had been. Here she was yearning for her husband who was probably fondling his girlfriend while he talked to her.

It was disgusting.

Though she wasn’t sure whether she was more disgusted with herself or with him.

Matt cleared his throat. “Well, right, I did find Zach. You’ll love this: he swears that he’s innocent of the charges.”

“What are the charges?”

“Oh, there are a ton of them. Possession of marijuana is the one that will stick. He had enough dope on him that they’re working on trafficking, as well.”

“And he says he’s innocent?”

“I know. It’s crazy, isn’t it? He’s so sure that we should all jump to fix things for him.”

“Are you going to?”

“No. He was hostile with me from the outset, insisting that I didn’t know what I was doing, that I’d taken too long to show up and a lot of other stuff, as if there was nothing else going on in the world beyond the inconvenience of his detention. The truth is, they probably would have released him on his own recognizance if he hadn’t handed around so much attitude.”

“But that’s not like Zach. He’s usually very laid-back.”

“Well, I’m guessing that they confiscated his stash and that affected his joie-de-vivre.”

Sharan laughed in the background, though Leslie frowned.

“Bottom line, he ticked me off, and he wouldn’t let it go. So, I did the only sensible thing. I told him that if he was innocent, he didn’t need my services and that I had to go.”

“But what will happen to him?”

“That’s his problem. He’s done a couple of years of law school. Let him solve his problems for himself for once.”

“He must have said some nasty things.”

“Maybe.” Matt’s tone as much as told Leslie that she wasn’t in his confidence any longer. “I was out of there anyway. It was a nice day. Why would I want to hang around in a jail?”

“Won’t the estate be tied up until the police finish their investigation?”

“And then some. Maybe Zach will work his way free by then.” Matt sobered. “It could prove to be a financial problem for Mom, though. I’ll have to talk to James about that.” He murmured something, covering the receiver with his hand. “I should go.”

Leslie’s heart sank with the certainty that this would be the last time she talked to him. She would have done pretty much anything to keep him on the line. “Did I tell you about your mother’s dogs?”

“Matt paused. “Dogs? Like ‘woof woof’ dogs?”

“Yes, ‘woof woof’ dogs. Two of them.”

“Live ones?”

“Yes.” Leslie smiled, savoring his astonishment.

“You’re telling me that my mother and dogs have something to do with each other?”

“She has two big poodles now.”

“Since when?”

“Since Wednesday. She inherited them from a friend.”

“She inherited dogs. Are you putting me on?”

Leslie laughed. “No, wait, I have it wrong. She has been appointed ward of the two dogs, because the dogs inherited the estate of Marissa Fitzgibbons.”

“I remember Marissa. I didn’t realize she had died.”

“Well, I guess she did, because the dogs were hers and that was how she provided for them.”

“My mother hates dogs.”

“She seems to be getting over that. They’re wearing her Hermès scarves today.”

Matt made a choking sound, then Leslie heard him snap his fingers. “You know, Marissa Fitzgibbons was really loaded. Those must be the richest dogs in Massachusetts.”

“Then maybe I should charge them rent.”

“Wait a minute. The dogs are there, in the house?”

Leslie tried not to think too much about the fact that he hadn’t said “our” house. The result, inevitably, was that she chattered. “Well, yes. Your mother is staying here, so the dogs came with her. Caviar and Champagne are their names. One’s black and one’s white: you can guess which is which all by yourself. She calls them ‘the girls’.”

“The girls. It boggles the mind.”

“Annette really likes them. You know how she always wanted a real puppy and these dogs are well trained already. She’s out walking them tonight.”

“Annette is outside in winter, walking, and by her own choice?”

“Yes.” Leslie smiled at his astonishment.

“And you, you who do not like dogs, allowed not one but two dogs to live in the house?”

“Would you have wanted me to chuck your mother out in the street?”

“Jesus!”

There was a pause, and Leslie thought she heard Matt muttering under his breath. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out how much I’ve drunk tonight. I’m having aural hallucinations.”

Leslie enjoyed his discomfiture enough to serve him up some more. Maybe it would tempt him to come home. “Well, I should warn you that we’ve fired the ice cream fairy and the muffin fairy. They just weren’t working out without you here to keep them in line.”

“Do you know what I had to pay headhunters to find those two?”

Leslie laughed.

“That’s better,” Matt said with approval. “I’ve missed hearing you laugh.”

“Then maybe you need to make better jokes.”

That surprised him into a laugh of his own. Leslie might have felt a moment of triumph, if Sharan hadn’t suddenly breathed into the phone. “Listen, Leslie, it’s wonderful that you and Matt are talking, but this is my phone and my time. Dessert is served, Matt so say night-night to your wifey.”

And the connection, not surprisingly, was broken.

Leslie listened to the dial tone and wished she knew who had hung up the phone.

On the other hand, did it really matter?

* * *

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Matt said to Sharan. She stood right beside him, her thumb on the phone from breaking the connection. He was still holding the receiver, though that seemed kind of pointless now.

And he was still trying to wrap his mind around Leslie’s words.

“Why not? Years ago you dumped me and broke my heart. Now you’re here, in my house. I get to gloat,” Sharan said stubbornly.

“You don’t have to be mean.”

“You came here, remember? You were looking for something and I don’t think it was a telephone.”

“You’re right.” Matt hung up the receiver. “I did come looking for something, but what I found was different from what I expected.”

And what he had left had been different than what he expected.

In fact, what he’d been looking for had been his already.

It was a startling realization and one that left him blinking.

“This is not just about my painting...” Sharan began furiously.

“Yes, it is,” Matt insisted, realizing that he had another purpose here with Sharan. It was a different one than he’d expected, but was every bit as vital. “It’s exactly about your painting. You need to paint, Sharan. It’s a part of you, it’s a gift that you were given so that you would use it. So long as you’re not painting, I’m not sure of who you are.”

“Art isn’t all of me!”

“Would you have said that twenty years ago?”

“I didn’t know anything twenty years ago.” She folded her arms across her chest and spoke through gritted teeth. “Art isn’t all of me.”

Matt held her angry gaze. “Isn’t it? Then who are you without it? You’re more than a palm leaf painter, Sharan, and we both know it. You’ve got talent and it’s your obligation to use it.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” she snapped. She pivoted in the doorway to the spare room and glared back at him. “You think you can just come here and shake everything up, toss around whatever you think is the truth, and everyone will dance to your tune. Well, I’ve got news for you, Matt. I’m not going to play your game. I like sex and I like you, and if you’re not going to ante up some physical affection, then you can leave.”

Matt turned off the stove and moved the pot from the burner. He moved with surety, not wanting to anger her, but knowing he would do so anyway. “Fair enough,” he said softly.

Sharan was shaken by his agreement, he could see that. “Most people think sex is easy, Matt.” She tossed the words at him like grenades. “Most people would be glad to put out a bit to get what they want.”

“Lots of people think sex is an important part of something bigger.”

Sharan grabbed her purse, shoved her feet into her sandals, and headed for the door. “I’m going out. If you’re not going to change your mind, don’t be here when I wake up in the morning.”

They eyed each other for a long moment, and he knew that she was expecting him to bend to her will. He knew what he had to do, though, and clearly saw his course forward.

Sharan must have seen something in his eyes. “Haven’t you heard, Matt?” she asked, her words ragged. “Home is where the heart is, so get your ass out of my house.”

He dropped his gaze, realizing that she’d uttered more truth than she knew.

Sharan swore, then spun out the front door. It slammed behind her and her little car started with a vengeance. The tires squealed and she was gone, only the hum of insects and the sound of a distant television carrying to Matt’s ears.

He could have told her that she couldn’t run away from what was frightening her. He knew that now, knew what he hadn’t known just days before.

Sharan wouldn’t have listened, though. She had to find the truth in her own way and in her own time, or not at all.

Maybe he could give her a nudge. Maybe he already had. Maybe that was what he owed her for old time’s sake.

Matt considered the bottle of tequila and decided against it. He didn’t want to be drunk tonight. He didn’t want to dull his senses or cloud his thinking. He was filled with purpose and an optimism that he’d been sure he’d never feel again. Leslie wanted to try. Leslie was willing to make changes. Leslie still loved him.

And, albeit a little bit late, Matt realized that that was all he’d wanted. He’d been afraid to ask her for the one thing he desired of her, afraid she’d deny him. The fact that she had offered it of her own accord was a more precious gift than he’d ever imagined he’d find.

There were still, however, a few things he had to do.

R
unt dunt dada dadala dunt da.

Leslie fights against the dream, knowing this battle is lost. She’s in the big top, standing before the tightrope.

But something’s wrong.

Her father’s not here.

She looks around, but there’s no sign of him. The music is insistent, persistent; the barker makes her introduction with a flourish.

But where is her father?

Leslie lifts one foot to step onto the tightrope, but the cable wobbles in front of her and she loses her nerve. She pulls back her foot, to the dismay of the crowd, then pivots and runs as they boo and hiss behind her.

She wants to fly the way she did the last night, but has to find her father first. She runs through the working areas of the big top, pink leather slippers scattering sawdust. She ducks under the elephant’s trunk and races around the clowns. She bursts out of the back of the tent to find a Midwestern landscape stretching flat and golden in every direction.

The wheat is ripe, that’s what she thinks, though she knows less than nothing about farming. It’s warm, a sunny afternoon in the late summer. She looks down and sees that she’s an adult now, an adult in a child’s tutu, her heels bursting out of those treasured ballet slippers.

Her father stands just ahead of her, his foot braced on a guy line. He’s smoking his pipe, staring across the flat expanse of land. The music of the calliope is muted behind them, but loud enough that she thinks he won’t hear her approach.

She lifts a hand to put it on his shoulder and he moves away, sensing her pending touch.

“It wasn’t what you were supposed to do, was it?” he growls and she pulls her hand away.

“I thought you wanted me to succeed.”

“Not at that. Not like that.”

“I liked flying.”

“I don’t care! It’s not what you were supposed to do. You were supposed to walk the tightrope.”

“But, but...”

“Get away with you now,” he says gruffly. “You had to go and do what you wanted, didn’t you? You couldn’t think of others.”

“But...” Leslie could not understand why her father didn’t want her to be happy, not until his words took a familiar turn.

“You had to marry him, didn’t you? You had to stretch too far. I told you that it would end in tears. I told you that it would come to grief, but did you listen to me? Did you give any credit to what I said to you?” He turned and looked at her, accusation bright in his eyes. “Do you see yet that I was right?”

Leslie shakes her head. “It wasn’t all bad...”

“No? And now you have a child and houseful of obligations and no man at your side. I told you this would happen. I told you that a man like him could not sustain any interest in a woman like you. I told you that you were just an amusement for him, but did you listen to me?”

“You told me to pursue my dreams. You told me to become a scholar...”

“You were supposed to find a man to take care of you, not find a man who amused himself for a while in having you take care of him. This was not what I wanted for you!”

“What about love?”

“Love has left you where you are, and where is that?” He looked her up and down. “You don’t want my advice. You don’t listen to me, and you have no respect. Go ahead and destroy everything I’ve tried to give you.”

“I love him.”

“You’re too smart to make choices on that basis alone.” He spared her a glance. “At least my daughter was too smart for that sort of stupidity.” There was challenge in his eyes, challenge and condemnation. “Get away with you then. Go ahead and do whatever you want. That’s what you’ll do anyway, ungrateful child. I don’t need to watch you destroy yourself.”

And he turned his back upon her.

Exactly the way he had turned his back upon her sixteen years before.

Leslie awakened with a gasp and a catch in her throat. She hadn’t forgotten a single word of that last exchange with her father. It was every bit as painful to hear his dismissal in a dream as it had been in real life.