Woman in Blue

by Eileen Goudge

  “It’ll definitely take some getting used to,” Lindsay agreed.

  Kerrie Ann cocked her head, studying her sister. “You’re not what I was expecting.” For some reason she’d imagined Lindsay a soccer mom living with her family in the ’burbs and driving a minivan. But she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, which meant she was either divorced or single, and there were no photos of children on her desk.

  Lindsay smiled, settling into her chair. “You’re not how I pictured you, either. I didn’t notice the resemblance at first, but now I don’t see how I could’ve missed it. You look like our mother.”

  Kerrie Ann eyed her dubiously. “Is that a good thing?”

  Lindsay was quick to reassure her: “She was pretty, like you.”

  “What was she like?”

  Lindsay’s brow furrowed, as if she were trying to think of something that was complimentary. “Well, she could be fun when she wanted to be. Though, to be honest, that wasn’t too often. The fact is, she wasn’t around much. Most of the time, I was on my own. That is, until you came along.” She added in a matter-of-fact tone, “Did you know we have different dads? I never met mine, and I’m not sure Crystal even knew who yours is. She was sixteen when she got pregnant with me. Her boyfriend at the time, my father, dumped her when he found out. Her parents weren’t too happy about it, either. So she ran away from home. That’s how she ended up in Reno.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have a photo of her?” Kerrie Ann asked out of curiosity.

  Lindsay shook her head. “Only the one on her driver’s license. They sent it to me along with the rest of her things after she died.” She reached for her purse on the desk, extracting a laminated card from an inner pocket, which she handed to Kerrie Ann without comment: a Nevada driver’s license with an unflattering photo of a woman about her age, with bleached-blond hair worn in a ’70s shag and hard eyes that didn’t go with her soft, almost child-like mouth. Kerrie Ann stared at it for a long moment, then silently handed it back. She felt no emotion whatsoever—the woman was a stranger to her. “She was a stripper,” Lindsay went on. “Miss Honi was, too, a million years ago. Though in her day, they were called exotic dancers.”

  Kerrie Ann wasn’t surprised to learn that their mother had been a stripper. In her case, the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. She’d never used her body to get money, but she’d done a lot of other things she wasn’t proud of. “All I know is that she died in prison,” she said.

  Lindsay gave a slow nod. “I was fifteen at the time. My parents asked if I wanted some sort of memorial service, but I told them no. I didn’t want to have to fake being sad. Besides, I couldn’t think of anyone to invite.”

  “Your parents sound nice.” Kerrie Ann retrieved her coffee cup and pried off the lid, inhaling the fragrant steam before taking a careful sip.

  Lindsay nodded, her expression softening. “I wish you could have met them.” Kerrie Ann gave her a questioning look, and she added softly, “They passed away—my mom eight years ago and my dad a few years before that.”

  “Oh.” Kerrie Ann didn’t know what to say. Should she offer her sympathies at this late a date?

  “They were older,” Lindsay explained. “They’d tried for years and years to have a child of their own, but Arlene kept miscarrying. By the time they decided to adopt, they were both in their fifties.” She smiled at Kerrie Ann, adding, “I know what you’re thinking. Most couples want a cute, cuddly baby, right? But they were looking for an older child, around the age their own children would have been. That’s the kind of people they were.”

  “Lucky you.” Kerrie Ann wondered what it would have been like to have had a real mom and dad. All she’d known was a succession of foster parents who’d ranged from well-meaning to plain mean.

  But if Lindsay detected any bitterness in her voice, she didn’t comment on it. “Yes, I was lucky,” she said. “I had fifteen wonderful years with them.”

  “You must miss them.”

  “More than you know. I owe them so much. They saved me, in a way.” Kerrie Ann gave a pained smile, all too aware that she stood as an example of how her sister’s life might have turned out had the circumstances been different. “Ted was a biology professor. He used to take me on these long nature walks. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized he wasn’t just teaching me about nature; he was letting me know, simply by being there, that it was safe to trust other people. And my mom—well, there was no one quite like her. She was the gentlest person I ever met.”

  For Kerrie Ann it was like hearing about life on Mars. Growing up, the closest she’d come to a meaningful relationship with an adult was with David French, her foster father when she was twelve. He used to take her out for ice cream and talk to her about things—adult things. Then one day, as she sat beside him licking her cone, he asked if she’d ever been kissed by a boy. Shocked not so much by the question as by the fact of his asking her, she told the truth: “Bobby Winston kissed me once on the lips.” David smiled as if they were sharing a secret and, when she was done with her cone, asked if he could braid her hair. She let him, but it creeped her out so much that she made excuses after that whenever he tried to get her to go off alone with him. A few months later she was sent to live with another family.

  “What did she do for a living?” asked Kerrie Ann.

  “She was a teacher-she taught music at our local high school and gave piano lessons on the side. She had also had this amazing gift of being able to talk to anyone, any age, and have that person instantly feel like she was their friend. She always knew the right thing to say, and when it was best to say nothing at all.” Lindsay’s smile turned wistful. “They would have been so happy to know I’d found you. They always hoped I would.” She picked up a framed photo off her desk, holding it out for Kerrie Ann to see. “I took this of them a few months after we moved here.” The photo showed a pair of long-haired academic types posing hand in hand on the beach, he with wire-rimmed glasses and a graying ponytail, she a dead ringer for June Carter Cash. They were smiling the easy smiles of people with nothing to hide and few regrets. “They always said it was their favorite picture of themselves.”

  A seed of envy cracked open inside Kerrie Ann, quickly blooming into a noxious weed. Her sister hadn’t just caught the brass ring; she’d gotten the whole frigging merry-go-round, while Kerrie Ann had been shuttled around like a hockey puck. “Technically, you didn’t find me. I found you,” she pointed out.

  “A good thing, too. I’d just about given up hope. All those years, all those dead ends.” She must have loved me at one time, thought Kerrie Ann with wonderment. She couldn’t remember ever having been loved as a child. “I managed to get hold of your records from Children’s Services, so I had addresses and phone numbers for your foster parents—the ones who hadn’t moved, at least—but they weren’t much help. I even tracked down your driver’s license, only the address on it turned out to be an old one. When I phoned your landlord, he seemed eager to get a hold of you, too. Something about back rent you owed?” Kerrie Ann felt her face grow hot under her sister’s probing gaze. “Then, out of the blue, you turn up on my doorstep.” Lindsay shook her head, as if in disbelief at the irony.

  “Like a bad penny,” Kerrie Ann said with a self-effacing laugh.

  “Why do you say that?” Lindsay frowned.

  “You might not be so happy to have me back in your life once you get to know me.”

  No sooner were the words out than Kerrie Ann wanted to snatch them back. What she’d meant to say was that she hoped they could become friends. Instead she was doing what she always did in a new situation: putting up walls and putting herself down. The years of being bounced from one home to the next, of always being the new kid in school, had taught her that it was better to reject before she could be rejected. And by putting herself down before someone else could, she could come across as dryly sardonic rather than the object of derision. It made for fewer friends, true, but it kept her from getting hurt.


  “You’re my sister,” Lindsay said, as if that simple fact were all that mattered. But she sounded a bit apprehensive nonetheless.

  Kerrie Ann put down her coffee cup and reached for her purse. “Mind if I smoke?”

  Lindsay hesitated before replying, “We could go outside if you like. There’s a service area out back.”

  “Never mind. It can wait.” Kerrie Ann spoke more curtly than she’d intended. Her sister was trying, but it did nothing to ease her growing discomfort.

  An awkward silence fell.

  “I wonder what’s keeping Miss Honi,” Lindsay said, glancing at her watch.

  Miss Honi. There was another mystery. “So what’s the deal with her, anyway?” asked Kerrie Ann. “Is she related to us, or what?”

  “Not by blood. But she was the closest thing. She used to babysit you when you were little.”

  Kerrie Ann was reminded once more of her recurring dream. “So you stayed in touch with her all these years?”

  “Not in the beginning. I tried sending her a letter once, but it was returned. She’d moved away, too, and hadn’t left a forwarding address. I didn’t even know her real name—just the stage name she went by. I never forgot about her, though, and used to wonder what had become of her.” Lindsay picked up a shiny brass paperweight off her desk, idly turning it over in her hand. “Then one day I came across this newspaper article about a retirement home for former show folk in Carson City. On a hunch, I phoned the director and asked if a Miss Honi Love was living there. By sheer luck, it turned out she was. So I flew out for a visit, and the next thing I knew I was inviting her to come stay with me. That was six years ago. She’s been with me ever since. Frankly, I don’t know how I’d manage without her.”

  “So it’s just the two of you?”

  “Plus a dog and two cats. We live just up the coast. My parents left me a house and twenty acres. You should see the view.” Lindsay, as if not wanting to give the wrong impression, was quick to add, “They never could’ve afforded it at today’s prices. They bought it when land around here was dirt cheap.”

  “Sounds awesome.” Kerrie Ann recalled the articles that had popped up when she’d Googled her sister’s name, about some hotel group wanting to buy her out so it could put up a resort. But since Lindsay hadn’t mentioned it, she decided not to bring up what was undoubtedly a sore subject.

  Lindsay must have been thinking about it anyway, because she lapsed into silence for a moment, wearing a preoccupied look. At last she brought her gaze back to Kerrie Ann. “But enough about me. Tell me about yourself. I want to know all about you.”

  “What do you want to know?” Kerrie Ann shifted in her seat, craving a cigarette more than ever.

  “Everything! So far all I know is that you’ve traveled around a lot and that you take your coffee black.”

  Kerrie Ann gave a nervous laugh. “I don’t know where to begin.”

  “Why don’t we start with the basics? Are you married?”

  “Nope.” Kerrie Ann fiddled with the rhinestone-studded heart on a chain around her neck, a long-ago gift from Jeremiah. She wasn’t sure why she still wore it. Habit, she supposed, or maybe sentiment. “What about you?” she inquired before Lindsay could ask if she had any kids. She wasn’t ready to get into that just yet.

  Lindsay shook her head. “I was engaged once, just out of college, but it didn’t work out. Now I’m afraid my life’s a little too complicated for most men, including my current boyfriend.” She studied her hands a moment, as if contemplating the absence of a ring. But when she looked up, her expression was untroubled. Either she was happy being single … or hiding something. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, what sort of work do you do?”

  Kerrie Ann shifted her gaze to the cup of coffee growing cold at her feet. Talking about herself was like picking her way over a minefield, trying to decide which aspects of her past were safe to reveal and which were best skirted. “I’m in retail,” she said, leaving it vague. “But I’m sort of between jobs at the moment.” It wasn’t an outright lie, although she hadn’t officially given notice. She’d merely told her boss she needed time off to take care of personal business. Her future, at this point, was in Lindsay’s hands. Would her sister be willing to take her in? Vouch for her when it came time to go to court? It was a lot to ask.

  “Oh, well. I’m sure something will turn up.” Lindsay spoke with the nonchalance of someone who’d never had to worry about such things. “There’s always a job for someone with a good head on her shoulders.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t go to college like you, so I wouldn’t know about that,” Kerrie Ann retorted. She’d meant it to sound ironic, but it came out sounding bitter and resentful. The story of her life: Act first, pay later. Fearful of getting off on the wrong foot, she was quick to clarify: “Hey, no offense. I just meant that for some of us, it’s not that easy.”

  Unexpectedly Lindsay’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry. I know you had it rough growing up. I wish I could’ve been there for you.”

  Kerrie Ann ducked her head, feeling embarrassed. Her life might suck, but she didn’t want anyone’s pity, least of all her more successful sister’s. “I don’t know what you could’ve done. I guess nobody asked us what we wanted, right?”

  She glanced up to find her sister still eyeing her sadly. “No, they didn’t.” Then Lindsay brightened and said, “Well, now that you’re here, let’s make the most of it. You haven’t booked a hotel yet, have you?” Kerrie Ann shook her head. “Good. In that case, why don’t you stay with Miss Honi and me? I insist on it, in fact. We have so much to catch up on!”

  Kerrie Ann leapt at the invitation. “I’d like that.” Lindsay might not be so excited to have her stay once she learned the real reason for her visit, but what better way to get a foot in the door?

  Miss Honi appeared just then, bearing a plate of chocolate-chip cookies. She held it out to Kerrie Ann, urging, “Go on, one won’t kill you. Ollie said to tell you that if you’re anything like your sister, he’ll have to look for another job. Someplace where he’s appreciated.”

  Lindsay laughed. “He has a thing against skinny women who are always on a diet.”

  “Amen to that,” said Miss Honi, reaching for a cookie.

  Kerrie Ann helped herself to one as well. “Tell him not to worry. I never count calories.” She took a bite and at once forgot about the cigarette she’d been craving. It was the best chocolate-chip cookie she’d ever tasted, soft and chewy at the same time, bursting with a subtle mix of flavors. She looked up at Miss Honi. “Ollie made these? They’re amazing.”

  Miss Honi beamed as though she’d baked the cookies herself. “I’ll be sure to pass on the compliment. As if you didn’t already make his day just walking in the door.”

  Kerrie Ann saw her sister’s brows shoot up. Did Lindsay disapprove of the way she looked? She’d wanted to make a good impression, so she’d worn her best outfit, only now she wasn’t so sure …

  But there was only warmth in Lindsay’s voice when she said to Miss Honi, “I was just telling Kerrie Ann that she’s welcome to stay with us.”

  “Where else?” declared Miss Honi as if there had never been any question in her mind where Kerrie Ann would stay. “She can have my room.”

  “I wouldn’t want to put you out,” said Kerrie Ann. “Really, I don’t mind sleeping on the sofa.”

  “No one’s going to be sleeping on the sofa,” interjected Lindsay. She turned to Kerrie Ann. “There’s a daybed in my room.” She’d had it installed while her mother was ill so she could stay with her at night, she explained. “As long as you don’t mind bunking in with me.”

  Kerrie Ann assured Lindsay that any bed would suit her just fine. She was thinking of the years she’d spent on the road, when her bed had been wherever she could find a place to crash, often with some guy she’d met along the way.

  “You’ll stay for dinner, too,” said Lindsay. “A nice quiet evening, just the three of us.
It’ll give us a chance to get reacquainted.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” said Miss Honi.

  Lindsay eyed her in confusion, then groaned. “The party.” She turned to Kerrie Ann, explaining, “My boyfriend is having some people over tonight. I told him we’d come—Miss Honi and I. But I can always call and cancel. I’m sure he’ll understand once I tell him the reason.”

  “Or you could call and tell him you’re bringing an extra guest,” suggested Miss Honi. “It’d give us a chance to introduce your sister around, show her off a bit.” She helped herself to another cookie, chomping down on it with relish, blissfully ignorant of the stricken look on Lindsay’s face.

  “I don’t know …” Lindsay cast a worried glance at Kerrie Ann. “All those people. We wouldn’t have much chance to talk.”

  Suddenly Kerrie Ann understood: Her sister was embarrassed by her. That was why she was making excuses not to take her to the party. The realization brought à hot surge of shame before defiance kicked in. “Actually, it sounds like fun,” she said with feigned enthusiasm. “I’m always up for a party.” The truth was, she seldom went to parties these days unless they were sober functions. But she’d be damned if she’d be hidden away like some ugly stepchild.

  “That settles it, then.” Miss Honi popped the last piece of cookie into her mouth.

  Lindsay didn’t say anything more, but her strained smile spoke for itself.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Dear God, a party on top of everything else? Lindsay was still struggling to reconcile the two Kerrie Anns: the pierced, tattooed woman and the little girl she’d known. And now to he plunged into a social setting with clients and business associates of Grant’s, having to make bright cocktail chatter while making sure her sister felt included? Her head spun just thinking about it.