Daniel thrust forward with a final moan. Lights burst behind her eyes as they climaxed around each other, gasping, moaning, and even screaming. A flock of birds erupted into the sky, battering the wind with their wings, their surprised screeching hiding the sounds of Carol and Daniel’s burst of pleasure.
Carol rested her head on his shoulder, gasping for breath. “I didn’t think you’d be so…spontaneous.”
“You’re smiling again, aren’t you?” He smoothed his hand down her hair. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For bringing me back here.”
She shook her head. “You were killing yourself. Daniel, don’t you think you should bring on somebody to help? You’re working sixteen hours a day—”
“Shh. Look, things are really booming now. In one year, two years at the most, I’ll be at the top of the heap.”
Carol looked at him, smiling sadly. “One or two years, huh? Remember when we were young and we could talk like that?”
“You mean we’re old?” he teased. Sobering, he brushed her hair out of her face. “I know why Bradford doesn’t want to move. You should know, too.”
She sighed. “I don’t know if I want to talk about that right now. He’s dying by inches up here and I—”
“And you’re not going to get your way for once,” he said, not unkindly. “I wish I could stay here all day.”
“Why can’t you?” she murmured, feeling sleepy.
“Because there’s a stone right in the middle of my spine.”
“Oh. Sorry.” She struggled to get to her feet, untangling her clothes and limbs from his body. She extended her hand, pulling him to his feet. “Better?”
He buttoned his pants and grimaced. “Yes and no.” He pulled her against him. “I’d rather you be on top of me again—”
“What are you doing tonight, sailor? Maybe we could go for a…walk.”
He kissed her. “Sounds good.”
“We better get back before Rebecca comes looking for us,” she said, tapping his chest.
He laughed. “Why would she come looking for her yucky old parents when she can talk Bradford’s ear off?”
Carol smiled wryly. “Good point. You know, I love you, Daniel Scambray.”
“Then marry me, Carol Thorn.”
“You mean we haven’t done that yet?”
He kissed her forehead. “No.”
“Then name the time and place, and I’ll be there.”
He leaned back, his lips twisting with thought. “I would say here and tomorrow, but I want Scambray Contracting to be the number one contractor in the Bay Area first.”
“You know, I don’t love you for your money.”
“Well, you needed to do your thing…I need time to do mine.”
“Let’s say two years to put you on the top and one year to plan.”
“Three years from today. It’s a date.”
Chapter 9
San Francisco, California
1976
As soon as Daniel’s eyes closed, the alarm went off. He rolled over, bashing the clock, knocking it to the floor, but that didn’t stop the incessantly chipper voice of the radio DJ from drilling into his brain.
“Daniel? Are you getting up?” Carol muttered.
He grunted, unable to open his eyes.
“Turn that off,” she moaned.
Daniel grunted again. He pried open one eye, looking directly out the window—into darkness. The sun would be up in about forty-five minutes. By then, he should be on his way to the site.
“Daniel?”
“I’m up, I’m up,” he grumbled. He sat up, reaching for the clock with tingling fingers. Finally, he found the OFF switch and the bedroom plunged into blessed silence. It would be easy to just fall back and…
No. No. Standing, he reached for the clothes he’d laid out the night before, pulling them on without bothering to turn on the lights or open his eyes. Once dressed, he leaned over the bed to kiss Carol goodbye. She kissed him back without opening her eyes, then turned over and curled around his pillow. He just wanted to crawl into bed beside her and wrap himself around her.
Instead, he pulled on his boots and let himself out of the bedroom. He paused at Rebecca’s room, listening to her even breathing for a few seconds. She would be graduating from high school in just three short weeks, and he didn’t remember anything about her high school career. Were there recitals? Games? Debates? Dances? He didn’t know. Vowing he would spend the entire weekend with her, he silently blew a kiss her direction, and continued down the stairs.
He’d prepared his breakfast and lunch last night and both waited for him in the fridge. He ate the sausage sandwich without enthusiasm, barely tasting the cold meat or the soggy bread. He removed the package containing the leftover meatloaf for his lunch, pulled a six-pack of cola from the bottom of the fridge, and placed them in his lunch bucket.
He stepped into the den, gathering a huge stack of files from his desk, as well as acres of building plans. Balancing that with his lunch bucket, he stepped out the front door into the cool, spring morning. The fresh air instantly woke him up fully, but he still longed to return to bed with Carol.
Daniel climbed into his new pickup truck and pulled out of the driveway, the only person on the road.
* * * *
He returned long after dark, cutting his headlights as he pulled into the driveway. He listened to the engine click as it cooled, his head nodding forward. His eyelids felt as if they were made of cement, his eyes full of sand. He pulled himself awake, gathering up his endless files, and plans, and paperwork.
Stepping out of the truck, he noticed all the lights in the house were off, but Carol had thoughtfully left the front light on—as she did every night. It took him five minutes to unlock the door, the keys not cooperating with his numb fingers. Once inside, he resisted the urge to drop everything on the floor, instead, carefully placing the items in the den where they’d be waiting for him the next morning.
He found his dinner in the kitchen. Fresh fish and wild rice. Sighing, Daniel popped the plate into the oven, reheating it for fifteen minutes and imagining how good it must have been fresh. Carol had taken several cooking classes with Rebecca, and Daniel reaped the rewards. Or he would have, if he were ever home at dinnertime. Leftovers just never tasted the same.
Carrying his warmed plate in one hand, a cola in the other, and his checkbook beneath his arm, he settled at the kitchen table, turning on the gentle reading lamp above his shoulder. He shoved the food in his mouth, chewing mechanically as he poured over the figures, checking, double-checking, and cross-checking all of his accounts. His men expected to be paid the next day. He had a major account closing the next day as well. He’d also have to pay the notes on all his equipment within the week.
Daniel finally closed the book long after his plate had been emptied. He went about his nightly tasks on autopilot, putting together his breakfast and lunch, laying out his clothes, and showering.
He paused at Rebecca’s door before turning into bed, soothed by the sound of her breathing. “Goodnight, Becky girl,” he murmured. She didn’t stir.
Daniel collapsed into bed besides Carol, remembering to set the clock before his eyes slammed shut.
* * * *
“You’re here,” Carol said from the kitchen door, her eyes wide.
Daniel looked up, sipping his coffee. “Well, yes. It’s Sunday, isn’t it?”
Carol walked across the room, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Yes, it is. But last Sunday, you weren’t here. Nor the Sunday before that. Or the Sunday before that—”
He held up his hand. “Yes, yes, I know. But I have today off.”
“Well, it’s good to see you.”
Daniel smiled. “It’s good to see you, too. I was thinking later we could—”
“Mom, did you iron my blouse? I wanted to wear it tonight for my date with Tony and I can’t find it.” Rebecca came into the kitchen and stopped short. “You’re h
ere.”
“It’s Sunday. Who’s Tony?”
“You’re never home on Sundays,” she countered. “And Tony is my boyfriend.”
He turned wide eyes to Carol. “How long has this been going on?”
Carol shrugged. “I don’t know. Three months.”
“Four months tomorrow,” Rebecca corrected. “That’s why I wanted my blouse ironed. Tonight is an important night! He’s taking me to dinner for our anniversary.”
“No,” Daniel said.
Rebecca didn’t seem to hear him. “Do you think I should buy something for him? He might be getting something for me, and I don’t want to embarrass myself—”
“No,” Daniel repeated, louder. “You’re not going out tonight.”
Rebecca spun around, her face a mixture of confusion and anger. “What are you talking about?”
“I thought we would all go out as a family. I’ve really missed you guys.”
Rebecca stared at him, blinking owlishly. “Mother?”
“I ironed your blouse last night. It’s in your closet. Go on.”
Rebecca smiled, nearly skipping out of the room.
“What the hell was that?” Daniel demanded.
“She’s had those plans for the last week. That’s an eternity to an eighteen year old. You can’t expect her to drop everything at the last minute.”
“I can’t expect her to drop everything to spend time with her dad?” he asked, aghast.
“Can she expect you to drop everything to spend an evening with her?”
He deflated. “I guess it’s just the two of us today, then.”
“Well…”
He stood. “What? Have you got a boyfriend, too?”
Carol rolled her eyes. “No. But I do have things to do today. Believe it or not, we have our own lives, Daniel.”
“I know you have your own lives,” he muttered, sitting again. “I just missed you.”
“We’ve missed you, too,” she said, taking his hand. “But Rebecca’s got a busy social life, and I’ve got my work and my own friends. I wish you would have given us a bit of warning.”
“I didn’t know until late last night that the site would be closed down for the day,” he admitted. “Do we still have that whiskey Rodney sent last Christmas?”
Carol pointed to the cabinet above the fridge. “Don’t you think it’s too early to drink?”
He waved away her question. “It’s happy hour somewhere in the world right now.” He got the Scotch and poured a healthy dose into his coffee. “Maybe having the house to myself won’t be so awful. I need to unwind.” He punctuated his lie with a smile.
Carol returned the smile. “I do have time to make you a decent breakfast, though. You just sit there and read the newspaper and leave it all to me.”
“If it’s not too much trouble.”
If she heard the sarcasm in his voice, she ignored it. “No, not at all.”
“Mom, my skirt has a giant stain on it!” Rebecca shouted from her bedroom.
“Try the black one,” Carol shouted back.
“It doesn’t match!”
“Black matches everything!”
Daniel took another swallow of coffee, sighing as it warmed his chest and spread to his belly.
“You know, her graduation is May twenty-eighth,” Carol said, pulling eggs and milk out of the fridge.
“I know.”
“Will you be able to make it?”
Daniel should have been hurt, even offended, by the question. What kind of father would miss his only daughter’s high school graduation? But Carol had a right to ask, didn’t she? “Yes. I’ve cleared my calendar. Barring any unforeseen catastrophes…”
“Yes, of course.”
Something about her tone grated on his nerves. “Well, excuse me. At least I’m in the same state.”
Carol looked at him over her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to imply anything—”
“I know I missed a lot of time with her these past few years,” he said defensively, “but I’d have to completely disappear for the next five years to even your score.”
She stared at him like he had grown a second head, which in turn, grew a foot. “Daniel, what’s wrong with you? I know things can come up. She knows things can come up. One bad storm can knock your schedule off for a week. That’s the way it goes.”
He hated that he had snapped at her, and he hated her reasonable response, and he hated himself. He poured more whiskey into his coffee. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. How do you like your eggs?”
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Mom, I’m going to Steph’s,” Rebecca called as she hurried by the kitchen.
“Wait! You can at least stick around long enough to have breakfast with me and your father.”
“But Mom, she’s expecting me, like, right now. We’ve got a big project due tomorrow and—”
“You have a big project due tomorrow and I’m just hearing about it now?” Carol demanded.
“Well…yeah…”
“What class?”
“History,” she said, looking at the floor.
“You still have time for breakfast.”
Rebecca strolled into the room, her long hair hanging in her face. She flopped into the chair across the table from Daniel, working herself up into a good sulk. “I’m not even hungry.”
With a heavy heart, Daniel looked from Rebecca to Carol. The morning was not going to plan. With a sharp pain of longing, he remembered the Sunday mornings they used to spend together. They’d go out to a different restaurant every week, trying the breakfast special in a dozen different languages from a dozen different countries. Rebecca always wanted to talk to him. Carol always wanted to be with him.
He had lost himself and he didn’t know why.
“She doesn’t have to stay.” He faced Rebecca. “You don’t.”
“Really?” She jumped to her feet.
“Daniel, she needs to eat at least,” Carol protested.
He waved her away. “Go, have fun.”
“Tony will probably just pick me up at Steph’s. I’ve got my stuff with me.”
“Okay, have fun. Be safe!” Carol called as her daughter rushed out the door. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said to Daniel. “She would have stopped sulking eventually. Anyway, if I cut a few meetings short today, I should be home by four.”
“Don’t bother. I just remembered I had some more work to do.”
“But Daniel—”
He stood. “I’m going up to change.”
“But what about your breakfast?”
“I’m just not that hungry anymore,” he muttered, turning to the stairs.
When he came back in his work clothes, his eggs were waiting for him on the table, and Carol was gone. He sank into his chair, pouring the Scotch directly from the bottle into his mouth.
* * * *
Daniel came across the two airplane tickets to London quite by accident. He had been looking for his birth certificate, and in a last, desperate attempt, went through Carol’s desk where she kept most of her important documents.
He looked from the tickets to his watch and back to his tickets. He needed to be on site in twenty minutes. She wouldn’t wake up for maybe another hour. But if he left, the thought of the tickets would torment him all day. By the evening, he’d be insane.
“She’s just going on a vacation,” he assured himself.
A vacation she conveniently forgot to mention? Yes.
But that wasn’t like her at all. She had been on several vacations with Rebecca over the years—short weekend trips to resorts and visiting friends—and she always talked to him about them first.
So what do you think she’s going to do? Take Rebecca and run away? You’re not thinking clearly.
Daniel shook his head. Of course, she wouldn’t take Rebecca and run away. He was just paranoid, and tired, and…
“Fuck,” he whispered. He checked his watch again. Fifteen m
inutes until he needed to be on site.
Would he look unreasonable if he woke her at 4:30 in the morning? Well, maybe he would. He was feeling extremely unreasonable. And sick to his stomach.
He trudged to the bedroom, dragging his feet on the stairs, clutching the tickets in his hand. He’d be late. Time was money. They could lose hundreds, maybe thousands, of dollars. He needed to talk to her.
“Carol,” he whispered, rubbing her shoulder. “Carol.”
“Hmm?”
“Wake up.”
She moaned, trying to turn away from him.
“Come on, Carol. Wake up. I need to talk to you.”
“What?” she groaned, clearly annoyed.
“I need to talk to you before I leave.”
“Can’t it wait?”
“No.”
She cracked open one eye. “What is it?”
He held up the tickets, the early sunlight shone directly on the blue and white cardboard. “What’s this?”
She stared at the tickets for several seconds. “They’re tickets, Daniel. You can read.”
“Yes,” he said patiently, “I can read. And I see they’re tickets. Where are you going?”
“What do they say?”
“London.”
“There you go. What do you need me for?” She tried to turn her back to him, but he caught her shoulder.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were taking Rebecca to London? Was I just going to wake up one morning and find both of you gone? These aren’t round trip, so maybe that was the plan exactly.” He tried to sound angry, but his voice sounded lost in the near darkness.
Carol sat up, her eyes suddenly clear. “Oh, Daniel, no. I was going to wait up and talk to you about it tonight. I’m going to take Rebecca on a tour of Europe before she goes to college. I don’t have tickets home because I wasn’t sure when we were coming home. I learned a long time ago it was best to keep travel plans open.”
Daniel nodded. It made sense.
“I didn’t tell you sooner because I knew you’d be too busy to join us. I’m sorry. I kept trying to talk to you about it, but when you were home, you just told me ‘later.’”
He wiped his hand over his face. “No, don’t apologize. I just…I’m late for work.”
Engaging Carol Page 14
