Things Remembered (28 page)

“Grace is twenty-five—”

“Almost twenty-six,” Karla said.

“What were you doing at that age?”

She'd been on her own for four years by then, paying for her own graduate degree by working two jobs. “That's beside the point. Grace and I are nothing alike.”

“What about Heather?”

“You can't compare any of us to each other. We're nothing alike.”

“All right—there's Susan and Allen and your ex-husband, Jim, and a hundred other people I can name who are nothing like each other either. But most of them were their own people by the time they were Grace's age. When is Grace going to grow up?”

Karla didn't have an answer. She put her head back and looked at the passing countryside. They'd left Auburn and moved deeper into the foothills. Here the earth was red, the forests pine, and the hamlets named by gold prospectors instead of conquering Spaniards. She was a Californian by choice rather than birth and couldn't imagine herself living anywhere else. Not until she'd come north again, however, had she realized how deeply this part of the state, the valley and foothills, were imbedded in her mind. Even scarred from development, this was the land her mother had loved, the place she would talk about with longing in her voice, the place of the dry heat, an expression and reality Karla couldn't understand until she'd lived here herself.

“Why did you settle in Loomis?”

He followed her lead, never questioning the abrupt change in conversation. “You mean rather than Fresno, or anywhere in general?”

“Anywhere.”

“I knew I wanted to stay in California, so that narrowed it down some. I did some part-time work at the clinic and got to know and respect the people there. Then, when the partners invited me to join them and I took a harder look at the area I found I particularly liked the semirural setting and the militant attitude of the longtime residents against wholesale development. By then Cindy was on the way and I couldn't think of a better place for her to grow up, so I said yes.”

“And this is where you intend to raise those other kids you'll have someday?”

“Why do I get the feeling there's more to this than idle conversation?”

The question threw her. “I don't know. Am I prying? I didn't mean to.”

He let it go. “We've talked about me enough. Tell me something about you.”

She tried to think of something interesting. “I'm a movie buff.”

“I already knew that. Anyone who knows the plot of
Land Before Time
either has kids or has started a second pass through Netflix.

“When I wear out a pair of socks, it's at the heel, not the toe.”

“Hey, that's pretty good. Certainly not something I would have figured out for myself. Now tell me something else.”

She dropped her voice to a sexy purr. “I like long walks on the beach, curling up by the fireplace with my well-read copy of the complete works of Dostoyevsky, bubble baths by candlelight, and Sunday afternoon football in the park.”

“You read my online profile.”

He not only kept up with her, he was a step ahead. She liked that. “There was one part I didn't understand, though.”

“And what was that?”

“Why you said no one under sixty-five should reply.”

He grinned. “I thought you'd have it figured out by now—I've only been going after you to get to Anna.”

She put her hand to her forehead. “I feel so used.”

“I have to admit I've enjoyed our time together more than I thought I would.”

“I can't tell you how much that means to me.”

“I really have, Karla,” he said, serious again. “I'm sorry it's coming to an end.”

“I thought the weeks would seem like months before I came,” she said. “I dreaded every day I would be here. And now it seems as if I just arrived and I'm leaving.”

“And I'm sitting here trying to come up with the words that will get you to stay even knowing there aren't any.”

“I know. I feel the same way.” She smiled. “It's hard to say good-bye to a new best friend.” They hit a pothole and she turned to check on the setter. The dog opened one eye, then settled back into sleep.

Facing forward again, she said, “I go back and forth between wanting to be with Anna and wanting to get back to work. Maybe if I didn't like what I do so much it would be easier to stay away, but the shop is my life, it's my identity.”

“You're a hell of a lot more than a coffee shop, Karla.” Mark slowed the car to make a left-hand turn. He drove another half mile and then turned left again into a long driveway. A classic brick colonial sat at the top of the hill surrounded by heritage oaks, a gray Mercedes in the circle driveway. Mark stopped behind the Mercedes as a tall man came out to greet them.

“You just missed Melinda. She took the boys to basketball practice.” He held out his hand to Karla. “I'm Darren. And you must be Karla. I told Mark he didn't have to drag you all the way up here, that I was perfectly willing to come down there to pick up Tammy, but he insisted.”

Mark looked at Karla and shrugged. “I figured it was the only way I could get you to see me again. Of course I wasn't figuring on Darren shooting off his mouth about it.”

Darren laughed. “Anytime I can be of service. Now let me see that dog of mine.”

“You named her Tammy?” Karla said.

“My oldest boy came up with it,” Darren told her. “Melinda and I just went with it, no questions asked. But I have a feeling it has something to do with a girl he met last summer at camp.”

They went around to the back of the Jeep. Tammy was up and waiting to be let out of the cage. Her tail thumped loudly against the plastic sides when she saw Darren. He grinned and held out his hand for her to smell.

“How you doing, girl?” She came into his arms as soon as Mark opened the cage, licking his chin and whining in excitement. He put her down and she followed them into the house. She moved with the grace and confidence of a dog in a show ring, her head and tail high, unaware how peculiar she looked with a belly of soft fuzz where there had once been glorious, silky feathering.

“We can't stay,” Mark said, giving Tammy's ears a loving, final scratch.

“Melinda's going to be real unhappy to hear that,” Darren told him. “She made your favorite casserole for lunch.”

“It's my fault,” Karla said. “I'm the one who has to get back.”

“Maybe next time, then,” he said graciously. The setter leaned possessively against his leg and gave him a doe-eyed look. She almost missed the appearance of a small black cat as it wandered into the room, its tail riding high. The cat spotted the setter, made a high-pitched sound, and tensed. “Mess with her and she'll put you right back in that hospital,” Darren told the adoring dog.

Mark chuckled. “I'm sorry I'm going to miss this. Call me if you need help.”

Darren and a distracted Tammy walked them to the door. “Are you and Cindy still planning to come up for the tournament next week?”

“She wouldn't let me miss it,” Mark said. “Tell Melinda and the boys we're sorry we had to take off before they got back.”

“It was nice meeting you, Karla. Come back when you can stay awhile.”

Darren was the kind of man who made the ordinary sound sincere. Karla had no doubt she would be as welcome as Mark should she come again.

“I like Darren,” she said as Mark drove away. “How did you two meet?”

“We've been friends since high school. I talked him into taking a job up here when he finished college, and now he owns his own software business.”

“And how did he and Tammy get together?”

“He stopped by the clinic to pick up some medicine for the black cat. I had Tammy in the break room with me, and it was love at first sight for them both.”

“Just like in one of my movies. I hope they have a happy ending, too.”

“What's this—sloppy sentimentality?”

“I've been known to indulge once in a while. It's not something I spread around, so you should know I'll be forced to take extreme measures should it get out.”

“A sense of humor, too? Now I really am impressed.”

“You've hardly scratched the surface where I'm concerned, Mr. Taylor.” Was this really her? Somewhere there was a memory of a teasing, carefree girl, but she'd been gone so long, Karla hardly recognized her anymore. How had Mark found her so easily?

When she glanced in his direction she saw that he was looking at her. Before he turned to look at the road again, she said, “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. I assume you're going to tell me what for?”

This time, for the first time, she was the one who reached out to touch him. She wasn't usually a tactile person, having learned to stop wanting the hugs that stopped coming. “For being my new best friend. I'm really sorry I'm leaving,” she admitted.

“And not just because of Anna. I'm going to miss you, too.” She saw the beginning of a smile. “Okay, I said it. Satisfied?”

“More than you can imagine. It's the most encouraging thing you've said all morning.”

“How's this—I wish . . .” She stared out the window. “Never mind.”

“Tell me what you wish.”

She hesitated, took a deep breath, and plunged forward before she could change her mind again. “I wish I lived here or you lived in Solvang, that we'd met before or never at all, that I knew what I wanted and had the guts to go after it, that you would let me see the side of you that you keep hidden, especially if it's a side that would let me walk away without regret.”

“Sorry, Karla. There is no hidden side. With me, it's what you see is what you get.”

“I know. . . .”

“Well, there's something you don't know that I need to tell you.”

She looked at him.

“There's no way I'm going to let you walk out of my life. There's more, but I don't think you're ready to hear it yet.”

Her heart swelled until it filled her chest. As much as she wanted to know what he would say next, she didn't want to spoil the moment by asking him to explain. For now, this was enough.

“I had a bet with Grandma that you wouldn't be back until tonight,” Heather said as she gently rocked in Anna's chair and watched Karla rake leaves.

“For the third time—we're just friends. Saying it's something else isn't going to make it so.” She finished one section and moved to the next. “When I leave on Sunday I doubt we'll ever see each other again.”

“Real friends stay in contact.”

“You know, you can be a real pain sometimes.”

“I'm supposed to be. It says so in my little sister contract.” She stood and stretched. “What do you suppose got into Grace?”

“What do you mean?”

“Leaving the way she did. And where were you? Did the two of you have a fight?”

“We had a discussion.” Heather would find out what happened sooner or later and would have her feelings hurt if she thought she'd been lied to.

“About?” she prompted.

“Her finances.”

“God damn it, Karla. You're not giving her more money, are you?”

“Think about it Heather. If I'd given Grace money, we wouldn't have had a fight.”

“Don't tell me you finally stood up to her.”

“You might say that.”

“And?”

“And she wasn't happy.”

Heather left the porch and crossed the lawn. “I want details.”

“Later.” She was talked out where Grace was concerned. And she was tired of worrying about her, which was just about all the control she'd ever had over their situation. “I think I see Bill and the boys coming.”

As if on cue, they drove up. Jamie tumbled out of the car and into Heather's arms. “Look what I got.” He held a plastic car aloft.

“I got one, too,” Jason told her when Bill released him from his car seat. “Mine's blue.”

Karla leaned into the rake and watched the reunion. She tried to picture herself in Heather's role, wondering what kind of mother she would make. She had a hundred ideas about being a good mother, some intractable, others open to change. There would always be a bedtime story and never a time when she was too busy to pay attention to a small need. Hands were meant to hold and laps to sit on and cheeks and foreheads and chins and noses were to kiss.

“She's good with them, isn't she?” Bill said coming to stand beside Karla.

“Wonderful. She was born to be a mother.”

“Are these nephews of yours—and the soon-to-be niece—ever going to have any cousins to play with?”

Her immediate thought was to give him a flippant answer about Grace being a long way from motherhood, but the question hit too close to home not to be taken seriously. “Not from me. I've had to face some uncomfortable truths this past month, and one of them is that I'm not mother material. I have a lot of ideas, but not the dedication it takes to do the job right.”

“You're selling yourself short, Karla.”

“Maybe. But if you listen closely, you'll hear my biological clock ticking its final hour. The timing is wrong for me to do anything about it now, and there's nothing I can do to change it.”

He slipped his arm around her shoulder and gave her a hug. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

“Me, too.” One of the things she liked best about Bill was that he never argued with her about her feelings. He acknowledged she knew herself better than he possibly could by taking the effort to really listen to what she said. She wondered about his choice of professions; to her law seemed a place where nothing was ever accepted at face value.

“I have a favor to ask.” He lowered his voice but kept a show of casualness. “I need your help talking Heather into leaving this afternoon instead of tomorrow.”

“All right. Can I ask why?”