One Mountain Away (40 page)

“I hope I can stay for dinner. I brought it.”

“The surprise.” She thought for a moment. “I’ve got a guess, but if I’m wrong, then you’ll feel like you made a mistake.”

“Pulled pork and all the fixings.”

She clapped her hands. “Exactly what I was hoping.”

“I remembered you said you missed it. I’m sure we’re healthier for the vegetarians in our lives, but not necessarily happier.”

“You always were the best at picking up cues. I’m really glad you picked up on that one.”

“Are you hungry now?”

She wondered. She hadn’t been hungry in a long time, not really. Tonight, though, might be different.

“Let’s have a drink first,” she said. “We can sit out by the pool—if you don’t think it’s too hot?”

“You haven’t been outside since you got home, have you? We had a storm earlier, and it cooled the air. If things aren’t too wet, it should be nice out there.”

“We can always dry off the chairs if we need to, and Velvet should wander a little.”

They rummaged for drinks. Ethan had never liked hard liquor, and Charlotte could no longer tolerate her favorite gin and tonic. He found a bottle of the local Highland oatmeal porter, and she poured a small glass of white wine for herself. She added cheese spread and crackers to a plate, grabbed napkins, and they took everything out to the pool, including the dog.

“Did you bring your suit?” she asked. “There’s probably something around here that’ll fit you if you didn’t.” She realized how that sounded and for some reason felt a need to correct the impression. “When I moved in I bought extra suits to have on hand. Some of them probably still have the tags.”

“I’d rather just sit.”

The chairs were dry, and they pulled them closer to the pool, where the sinking sun danced along the ripples on the surface. The air smelled fresh and new, the punch of ozone from the storm a welcome accent.

“The house didn’t seem nearly as large when it was filled with people last weekend,” Ethan said.

“The house is large enough for an army battalion. I would sell except—” She stopped. She wasn’t ready to tell him about the leukemia. She wanted to just enjoy his company tonight, without anything else mixed in.

“The economy?” he finished for her.

“It’s definitely not the best time to sell a house, although people with money still seem to have it.”

“I’m sure the economy’s affected Falconview.”

“In about a million different ways.”

“Half the developments that were being actively marketed seem dead in the water.”

“More than half. You’ve done the smart thing by pulling in and sitting tight. There’s always a market for beautiful craftsmanship and sensible design.”

“There must be. I sold my first unit at the factory this week, and it was the biggest. So now I have money to finish my own. We’ve had enough repeat traffic this month that I think we’ll see more sales soon.”

“Then this is a celebration.” She lifted her glass.

They clinked, bottle to glass. She liked the feel of that, somehow familiar and right. “What will you do with your house when you move?”

“I’m thinking about renting it. Maybe to Taylor, if she’s interested. It’s larger than hers, and in a better neighborhood, with more yard. Then I can continue to use the workshop.”

“Plus she would have a sympathetic landlord.”

He smiled. “If she decides to stay put, I thought I’d ask Sam. I’ll need somebody who doesn’t mind me coming and going out back.”

“Sam turned into an exceptional woman.” Ethan knew about the clinic playroom, so she didn’t elaborate. “It’s been a wonderful surprise to find her in my life.”

“She’s had it tough but she’s come out the other side,” he said.

“I’m sure her mother had a lot to do with that. I saw her last week at the clinic.”

“Difficult encounter?”

She sipped her wine. “I may have overreached again. I may have interfered where I wasn’t wanted.”

“Oh?”

He didn’t sound too wary, so she went on.

“Last week Sam mentioned her mother had an interview, and something Georgia said to me when we spoke rang a bell, something about hoping someday she could get back into school administration. So I made a phone call. I know the school board is looking at candidates for principal at the new alternative school they’re opening in September. Their choice fell through late in the spring. I heard the whole story from—” She stopped. She had heard the story from Phil Granger, whose wife was on the interview committee, but she didn’t want Ethan to make that connection.

“From a friend,” she finished. “The board’s kind of in a pickle, so they reopened the search. The thing is, Georgia would be perfect. The school’s for middle and high schoolers in trouble in one way or another, kids who aren’t fitting in where they are, kids who need a second chance and a specialized educational experience. It’s going to be small, and intensive, and they need new ways of looking at education, not the same old. So I…” She shrugged. “I wrote her a letter of recommendation.”

“She asked for one?”

“To be honest, I’m sure she’d be horrified. But I know that was the interview she was going to, because, well, I just do.”

“You have ears all over the city, don’t you?”

Since it was true, she couldn’t deny it. “I knew somebody on the committee that’s doing the first round of interviews. I just asked if it would help if I wrote a letter for somebody who might be a candidate, and when I said Georgia’s name, she didn’t correct me.”

“You didn’t think you should consult Georgia first?”

“I’ve told her how sorry I am about everything that happened all those years ago. She was as polite as anyone could be, but I know she doesn’t want my help. She probably assumes there would be strings attached, anyway.”

“Would there?”

She looked at him and frowned. “Not even a silk thread.”

“So what could you say about her? That was a long time ago.”

“A long time, yes, but undoubtedly being fired continues to haunt her professionally. I said she was a wonderful headmistress, and her only sin was that she was ahead of her time. I also said I hadn’t realized it at the time, but hardly a day goes by when I don’t kick myself for not fighting to keep her at Covenant Academy instead of fighting for her departure.”

“That sounds harmless enough.”

“I went just a little further….”

“I remember that tone.” He mimicked her. “‘Ethan, by the way, that’s not quite
all
I did today. I also bought a five-acre plot in Weaverville that I’m absolutely sure will be zoned for business and triple in value.’”

She laughed, because what else could she do? “Well, if I hadn’t brought this up, I’d tell you the whole thing is none of your business.”

“But you
did
bring it up. What else did you do?”

“I called some other people who had children at the Academy when everything was going on, and I asked them to write letters, too.”

“Carefully choosing people who agreed with you, I assume.”

“It wouldn’t have been particularly helpful to choose any other kind, would it?”

“Still a mover and a shaker.”

“I hope she gets the job.”

He took her empty glass and held it up. “Amen. Let’s dish up some dinner.”

They worked together, serving up plates from the take-out containers of pork, macaroni and cheese, and beans, then heating them in the microwave. While they waited she turned on music and fiddled with buttons until she found exactly what she wanted.

When she came back in, Ethan was smiling. “Alison Krauss and Union Station?”

“I have everything they’ve recorded, but don’t tell anybody.”

“You know my tastes pretty well, don’t you? They’ve come here, you know. Since you’re such a big fan, we’ll have to go next time.”

She knew better than to answer that. They chatted. He told her what he hoped to do to the kitchen of his condo unit, and she told him about a revolving kitchen cabinet made in New Zealand that she’d seen at a design show.

“It takes up very little square footage but contains almost everything a kitchen really needs, including a sink. I thought of you when I saw it. Utilitarian to the core, but friendly and attractive, too. I could see you incorporating it into one of your designs.”

“The hardest thing about a divorce isn’t getting somebody out of your bed, it’s getting them out of your head.”

“I never succeeded.” She turned. “If you were luckier, don’t tell me. Leave me some illusions.”

“I married another woman. That helped for a while.” He didn’t go on.

Despite herself, she was encouraged by the “a while.” “I was so angry at first. Maybe if I hadn’t been, we could have worked for a better solution than the one we chose.”

“What solution would you have preferred?”

“At the time? Drawing and quartering had a nice ring to it. But later?” She couldn’t go on.

When she didn’t, he did. “Sometimes, when you let things sink too low, you can’t lift them up again. We let our marriage hit bottom. If we’d tried to keep it afloat while we still could, maybe things would have been different.”

“I would never have agreed to counseling, and that’s what we needed.”

“Why wouldn’t you have gone? Were you
that
sure you were right?”

She opened the microwave and rotated a plate, then closed it before she faced him. “No, that really wasn’t the reason. I was afraid if I revealed too much, if you figured out who I really was or saw how inferior I felt, you wouldn’t want me anymore.”

“Lulu…” He shook his head. “I
knew
how insecure you were. I just had this foolish idea that if I loved you enough, it would all go away and one day you would wake up and see that nothing anyone ever said about you on Doggett Mountain, including that no-good father of yours, made one bit of difference.”

She hadn’t wanted to lose him, but without understanding it, she had done everything possible to make sure she did. For a moment the memory was so intense, it hurt to breathe. “It’s a shame we figure out these things when it’s too late, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer, and she knew it was time to change the subject. “Do you want to eat outside?”

“Let’s. Don’t forget the coleslaw.”

He got another beer, she opted for water. Even the small glass of wine had dragged her down, and now she felt like a drowning woman swimming to shore against the tide. The nap was wearing off, and so was her good sense. She was saying things she didn’t need to, moving too close to the time when evenings like this one had been standard fare.

She was ready to lighten the atmosphere, but Ethan plunged back in.

“Taylor came to apologize,” he said. “Maddie’s coming home from Tennessee tomorrow, and I don’t think she wants her to know that we’ve been at odds.”

Charlotte waited, hoping he would say Taylor was willing to take the first step toward a reunion, but he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but she still hasn’t read your letter.”

She wondered how much time was left before it was too late for her daughter to change her mind. “She will when she’s ready,” she said.

They ate in silence, and she was surprised how good the food tasted. Maybe the difference was eating outside or the familiar flavors of her past—or maybe the company—but she finished everything she had dished up.

“That was so good.” She set her plate on the table. “I haven’t eaten that much in ages.”

“You’re thinner than I remember. Maybe too thin.”

“Eating hasn’t been a priority,” she said, and as far as it went, it was true.

“I know it’s easy to stop making meals when you’re alone.”

The music changed from up-tempo bluegrass to something sweet, slow and sad. She recognized the song. It was “A Ghost in This House,” about a woman alone because her lover has left her.

“I remember this,” Ethan said. “Someone else sang it first, a country band.”

She did remember, although it had been a long time since she’d heard that version. And suddenly she could almost feel Ethan’s arms around her, and hear the twang of a Dobro. Neon signs blinked in the window, and the air was heavy with smoke.

“We danced to this,” she said. “At a bar somewhere in Roanoke, when we were visiting your parents that very first time.”

“I remember. I had to get you away from them and all to myself.” Then, without time for either of them to think, he rose, took her hand and pulled her up. “For old times’ sake.”

She didn’t hesitate. She went into his arms as naturally as if she had never left them. He rested his cheek on her hair and moved slowly back and forth. She could feel the soft denim of well-washed jeans rubbing against her bare legs, the warmth of his chest against her breasts. Their bodies had always fit together, and they still did. She was awash in emotion, the past and present bound together in the slow rhythm of the song and the familiar feeling of the only man she had ever loved against her.

He hummed the melody, and his arms tightened. She couldn’t mistake what was happening to both of them or even pretend it was accidental. Suddenly all the yearnings she had ignored were flooding through her. She wanted to cry, but even more, she wanted to laugh. They hadn’t stumbled on this moment. They had slowly glided toward each other from the day he had come to find out why she’d been watching their granddaughter. She had tried to ignore what she was feeling, but Ethan hadn’t been so blind.

The song ended. He stopped moving, but he didn’t release her. She turned her face up to his and waited.

“It’s been some ride, Lulu. First there was love,” he said. “Then anger, and now something I could almost call friendship.”

She traced a line on his cheek. “Only it’s not quite friendship, is it? I’ve never been able to forget the good times, and they haunt me.”

“Maybe I should go.” He didn’t pull away.

“Maybe you should.” She didn’t pull away, either.

He lowered his face to hers and kissed her lightly on the lips. She put her arms around his neck, and the kiss deepened. She heard a soft moan and knew it was her own. Her body, so damaged and run down, was coming alive, and the feeling was exquisite.

She could feel her heart thudding almost painfully against her chest, as if it was learning how to beat again. She could feel the blood flowing through her bruised limbs. Then she felt Ethan’s hands traveling down her thighs to pull her closer, and she went rigid with pain as, without realizing it, his hand settled where a bruise bloomed and grew larger each day from the last bone marrow biopsy.