Touching Stars (17 page)

Eric felt an irrational burst of anger. How had Gayle let this happen? How had she allowed this boy to live on a river all his life without the necessary skills to save himself?

Dillon was apparently better at reading minds. “And don’t you blame Mom. She made me take swimming lessons even when I screamed and cried. How do you think I learned to paddle around in the water?”

“Nobody bothered to tell me.”

“Would it have mattered?”

Eric heard echoes of Noah in Dillon’s question. How many months did he have before Dillon turned into Noah? How many weeks? Hours? Minutes?

“What do you really like to do?” Eric asked. “I promise I’m going to teach you to swim, but not today. Today I want to have fun. What shall we do? Your choice.”

Dillon just stared at him, as if this stranger sitting in front of him was speaking Swahili or Urdu, as if the words had absolutely no meaning in their present form.

“Do you like to hike?” Eric prompted. “Because I’m itching to. I can’t go fast or far yet, or do any climbing, but we could pack a lunch, take binoculars along the river, maybe, and see if we can spot an eagle’s nest. There used to be one downstream a ways. I doubt it’s there now, but we could try to find it.”

“Just us?”

“Nobody else gets to come. Not even if they beg and plead. Which, under the circumstance, is unlikely.”

Dillon chewed his lip. “I promised Mom I’d practice swimming today.”

“I’ll clear it with your mom.”

Dillon’s smile was like sunshine peeking from behind a dark cloud. “I’ll put on jeans and shoes.”

“Come back when you’re ready, and we’ll pack a lunch together.”

Dillon threw his dishes in the dishwasher and disappeared. Eric wondered if being a father could be this simple after all. At least he was on to something. First you had to want to, then you had to try.

J
ared hadn’t seen Brandy since they’d made love. In one brief telephone conversation, his worst fears had been confirmed. Brandy was over the moon, convinced they’d made a pledge that would take precedence over all his plans for the future. She might not expect him to miss his first year at MIT, but clearly she thought the moment something could be arranged, he would want to be wherever she was, that now she would be the center of his life and all his decisions.

Jared hadn’t known what to say, so he’d made excuses not to get together. He blamed his mother, who asked him to do this or that, and truthfully, he thought Gayle
was
laying on extra work. He knew she was unhappy about his relationship with Brandy, although she never overtly interfered. But his mother had hopes for his future that didn’t involve him settling in Shenandoah County before he had a chance to see the world. And she wasn’t above finding excuses to keep him out of danger of a lasting and local commitment.

He should resent that, he knew. But for the most part he was simply grateful.

Now it was Wednesday, and excuses had ended. He pulled into Brandy’s driveway to give her a ride to counselor training at the archaeology campsite, and she was already waiting in front of her house. She wore tight jeans and some kind of top that bared most of her shoulders. Her long hair fell nearly to her waist, and the sight of her brought back memories of Sunday night—and an all too familiar ache.

Mrs. Wilburn, wearing a loose, brightly flowered dress, came out to greet him. Brandy scrambled into the car well ahead of her mother and rolled her eyes as they waited.

Mrs. Wilburn finally arrived and leaned down to ask how his father was feeling. They chatted for a few moments until she straightened and waved them off.

“If I look like that when I’m her age, you have my permission to shoot me.” Brandy tossed her head. “I’m going to stay thin and pretty for you.”

Jared tried to imagine what it would be like to be married to Brandy when they were the ages her parents were now. For a moment he couldn’t breathe, as if in that fantasy the older Jared reached through the mists and wrapped his hands around his throat.

“I don’t know why your mom keeps you so busy.” Brandy examined her nails, some of which had pictures painted on the tips. She seemed particularly fond of one with a kitten.

“The inn takes a lot of work,” Jared said.

“You know, if we get married, maybe someday we can run it. Your mom’s not always going to want to. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could take over?”

He tried to sound merely instructive. “It looks like more fun than it is. My mom works all the time, and she doesn’t have a lot to show for it.”

“I bet more people would come if
I
ran it. I’d paint it a different color, make it more modern, like a real motel. But we’d have to live somewhere else. I couldn’t stay there with all those strangers coming through my house.”

He tried not to picture the inn painted a perky pink or yellow. “Don’t you want to travel? See what’s out there before you decide where you want to settle?”

“I don’t see why. Oh, I’d like to maybe go on a cruise or something for my honeymoon. But what could be better than where we live?” She snuggled against him as much as the bucket seats allowed. “It’s not where you live, Jar-Jar, it’s who you live with.”

He glanced over at her and saw the sweet, familiar contours of her cheeks, the small, ripe mouth. She winked at him.

Jared felt his body respond again in an all too familiar way. But the sinking of his heart was becoming familiar, too.

Gayle was delighted with her new assistants. Paula and Cissy had hit it off immediately, and even though they wouldn’t often be working the same shift, it was clear that when they did, harmony would reign. Both were learning quickly but also bringing their personal strengths to the job. Cissy was naturally warm and accommodating, and guests had already begun to sing her praises. Paula was a whiz at organization and had suggested an improvement for the way dirty linen was replaced that would save everybody time. Gayle’s concerns about taking on the catering job had diminished.

Today was more or less a dry run for camp. She had promised Travis that she would do the counselors’ training lunch, and she was using it as a chance to experiment with menus. She’d prepared a few more dishes than she needed, but she planned to study the leftovers.

“Mom, there’s enough food here for the first week of camp.” Noah, who had been happy enough to take the job as her assistant, was less enthused after chopping and stirring all morning.

She had decided to serve do-it-yourself tacos and several different salads. Travis used this training day as an opportunity to instill enthusiasm in his counselors, as much as to teach them what they needed to know. A good meal would help with that, she knew.

“Wait and see. I’ll bet there won’t be that much to pack up and bring home.” Gayle loaded a bowl filled with a cold rice salad into a box lined with towels to keep it safe.

Noah finished packing cutlery and plastic glasses into another box, added packages of napkins, then sealed it by folding the flaps over the contents.

“I think we’re set,” Gayle said. “The pickup’s outside the door. Let’s pack the back and go.”

With a box resting against his chest, Noah stepped outside just as Eric, in jeans and a stretched-out T-shirt, came in from the opposite door.

“Need help carrying the stuff over?”

She debated. Eric had taken Dillon swimming that morning, and from what she could tell, the two had avoided each other ever since. Eric seemed at loose ends. Maybe a trip to the site would be exactly what he needed.

“We could use the help.” She gestured to the box she’d just packed. “That one’s all ready. You just have to put it in the back of the truck. Maybe you’d like to see what they’ll be doing.”

“Sounds good.” He paused. “Dillon will be okay here alone? Or is he going?”

She had to applaud him for remembering their son still needed supervision. “Cissy can keep an ear out for him. I’ll talk to her.”

“I take it he knows to stay away from the river?”

She ignored a stab of annoyance. “That’s always been the rule.”

“I wish he could swim better.”

“The lesson didn’t go well, I take it.”

Eric looked perplexed. She supposed when somebody was good at nearly everything, failing was particularly difficult. And after a lifetime of winning, these days Eric was facing failure on a number of levels.

“He flounders around like he’s dying, and nothing I did made it any better. I don’t have a clue what to say to him.”

Gayle was surprised he was so willing to admit that. “Thirteen-year-old boys are notoriously difficult to talk to.”

“Swimming seemed like a good way to get to know him. But maybe it’s not. Maybe I’m not the right person to help.”

She was surprised at how quickly her annoyance flared into anger. “Well don’t you dare quit on him.”

“Did I say I was going to?”

“History suggests you might.”

He stared at her for a moment before the stare turned to a frown. “What next, Gayle? Maybe you should point out that I don’t even
have
a history with Dillon, that I didn’t want him, that for a while I even thought he might not be mine.”

He was fanning the flames. She struggled for a breath to cool them. “Let’s not get into that now—or ever again.”

Eric raked his fingers through his hair. “Maybe it goes to the heart of the matter.”

“The heart of this matter is that you have three sons, and whether we planned for the third or not, he needs you. Most of all he needs you to uphold your promises, the most recent of which is that you will teach him to swim whether it’s difficult or not.”

She looked up and saw Noah standing in the doorway. For a moment she froze. She and Eric hadn’t been speaking loudly, but how much had he heard? And how much had he understood?

“Let’s get going,” Noah said after a pause that deepened Gayle’s embarrassment. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we can come home.”

She wasn’t sure Noah was a good enough actor to ignore his parents’ fighting, but despite his cheerful exterior, he was deeper than others first guessed. His art was proof of this, perceptive, exploratory, and occasionally distressing.

“Your father’s going to come with us, so maybe the two of you can finish carrying everything out while I give Cissy some last-minute instructions.” She turned and left before either male could reply. She didn’t want to hear a thing they had to say.

Five minutes later they were on the way to the site. Noah was sandwiched between his parents on the bench seat and clearly not happy about it. Thankfully they arrived without more harsh words, and Gayle went to search for Travis.

She found him under the shade of several maples. The counselors had paired off around the site and seemed to be speaking earnestly to each other. She noted that Brandy and Jared were not working together and wondered who had engineered that. Jared had his back to her, but Brandy gave a quick wave. Gayle admired the way the girl looked in a skimpy tank top and tight jeans, even while she wondered what the sight of so much bare skin did to her oldest son.

She shook off the thought and instead turned her attention to Travis. He wore a dark blue knit shirt and khaki shorts, and looked absolutely comfortable leaning against a tree doing nothing.

“What’s up?” she asked.

His eyes lit up, and he smiled. “My food lady.”

“From friend and neighbor to food lady. This may not be a promotion.”

“I’m forever in your debt. The kids are role playing and doing a good job of it, but I’d have had a rebellion on my hands if I didn’t feed them in the next fifteen minutes.”

She felt the tension in her spine release a vertebrae at a time. Travis had that effect on her. “What kind of role playing?”

“One of them gets to be a whiny camper, and the other gets to practice active listening. I make them practice at home, too, and write down a couple of conversations where the technique worked. This is a good group. They all more or less have the hang of the basics. The whining in particular.”

She laughed before she could think about it; then, unaccountably, tears filled her eyes. She looked away, but Travis reached out, spread his fingers along her jaw and turned her face to his. “Hey, what’s this about?”

She shook her head, almost more embarrassed than she’d been when she saw Noah in the doorway.

“This summer is bound to be hard.” He dropped his hand, but his eyes were sympathetic. “You bit off a lot.”

“Sam says I’m trying to create the perfect divorce.”

“Is he right?”

“If I couldn’t create the perfect marriage, whatever made me think I’d be more adept at ending it?”

“I hope you’ve factored in the reality that you’ve tried to do both with the same man. And that he might share just a little in the blame?”

“Some things lodge in the brain but not in the gut.” She looked away. “Do me a favor, would you? Will you give Eric a mini-tour of what you’re going to be doing here while Noah and I set up the tables? I want to talk to him without Eric around. Just tell me where you want them.”

Travis pointed to an area well to the west of the old homesite where she could set up without disturbing anything. Then she went to tell Eric that Travis would show him around.

She and Noah set up the tables. The counselors were still practicing, although they were looking longingly toward the food.

Gayle waited for Noah to speak first, and he didn’t disappoint her. “You were fighting with Dad, weren’t you?” he asked, as they began to pile up plates and salsas.

“It’s to be expected.” Gayle managed to sound calm. “But we’re okay.”

“Yeah, I know. You both love us. You both want what’s best for us. Yada, yada…”

She wished he wasn’t quite so good at mimicking her. “Sometimes clichés are true.”

“Well, I wish he weren’t here. Things were better when he wasn’t.”

Gayle didn’t know what to say. Her first instinct was to reprimand him, but for what? Speaking the truth?

She found an answer. “Life doesn’t often give us second chances. You’ve got one with your father now. I hope you’ll take advantage of it.”

“Yeah? Well, I hope
you’re
not looking at this as a second chance.”

She took his arm to stop him from going back to the pickup. “This summer isn’t about your dad and me getting back together, Noah.”

“You can say one thing, even mean it, and in the end, words don’t have a thing to do with the truth.”

“You need to forget this and work on getting to know your father better. Whatever passes between us is about us, not about you boys.”

“Whatever was passing between you today was about Dillon.”

When he didn’t go on, she guessed he hadn’t heard the particulars. “Your dad’s got a way to go before he connects with Dillon or you. But that doesn’t mean he and I aren’t going to have occasional disagreements about what’s best. We’re still your parents. Married or not, it’s natural to disagree.”