Woman in Blue

by Eileen Goudge

  “’Night, sugar. Sleep tight.” she said.

  Some time later Lindsay was dragged from a deep sleep by the snick of the bedroom door opening. In the dim light, she could make out a shadowy figure—her sister—making its way across the room on tiptoe. Kerrie Ann looked disheveled and was weaving slightly, as if …

  Lindsay bolted upright, suddenly wide awake. “Are you drunk?”

  Kerrie Ann came to an abrupt halt. “Jesus, you scared me.”

  “Well, are you?”

  “Have I been out getting trashed?” Kerrie Ann snorted. “I wish.”

  “It’s not something to joke about.” Lindsay fumbled for the switch on her night-table lamp.

  Kerrie Ann threw up a hand to shield her eyes against the glare. Exposed, she looked even more of a wreck, her hair tangled and her makeup smudged, a streak of what looked to be charcoal running down one leg of her off-white jeans. “Did I say it was? Jeez, Lindsay, lighten up. Why do you always have to assume the worst? For your information, I ran into an old … friend at the meeting. We went for a drive. I guess I lost track of time.”

  “It wouldn’t happen to be an old boyfriend, would it?” Lindsay knew it was none of her business, but any new wrinkle in her sister’s already complicated life had a way of involving her, she’d noticed. And she didn’t want this to become yet another complication.

  “You could say that.” Kerrie Ann lowered herself onto her bed. Lindsay could see now that she was sober. But something was clearly amiss. “It was Bella’s dad. I haven’t seen him since she was a baby, and there he was, big as life. It was a shock, let me tell you.”

  “I can imagine. I hope you gave him a piece of your mind.”

  “Not exactly.” Kerrie Ann sat hunched over, shivering. As usual, she wasn’t dressed for the weather. She wore a lightweight peach-colored jacket over a tank top and low-rise jeans that showed a slice of tanned belly. Scarlet-painted toes peeked from a pair of cork-heeled wedgies.

  “Don’t tell me you forgave him!” Lindsay was incredulous.

  “I didn’t say that, did I?” Kerrie Ann glared at her. “Anyway, it’s not as cut-and-dried as you think.”

  “Explain it to me, then.”

  “Okay, but first you have to get off your high horse. Seriously. I can’t talk to you when you’re looking at me like that.”

  Lindsay let out a breath, settling against her pillows. “All right. I’m listening.”

  Kerrie Ann reached for the crocheted afghan folded at the foot of her bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Look, I don’t blame you for thinking Jeremiah’s a scumbag. I’d pretty much written him off, too. But he’s changed. He’s clean now—ninety days. I know that doesn’t sound like a lot, but believe me, it is.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that he walked out on you.”

  “No, and it doesn’t excuse it, either. But it wasn’t like he meant to. He was whacked-out at the time. And when you’re high, you do all kinds of things you wouldn’t otherwise do.” Kerrie Ann clearly spoke from experience.

  “He could at least have stayed in touch.”

  Kerrie Ann regarded her as if from the opposite side of a gulf, as if the prospect of explaining it to someone who’d never been there was simply too enormous. “He was out there for a really long time. I mean out there. It got so bad he was even homeless for a while. That’s when he went into rehab. When he finally sobered up enough to see what a mess he’d made of things, he went looking for me. He wants to get to know his daughter. To be part of her life.”

  “What about you? Does he want to be part of your life, too?”

  “Maybe, but who says I want him back?”

  Nonetheless, Lindsay felt compelled to ask, “Do you?”

  Kerrie Ann was quiet for so long as she sat slumped on the end of her bed, her head lowered so her chin was almost resting on her chest, that Lindsay thought she might have drifted off to sleep. Then from the folds of the afghan came her muffled voice: “I don’t know.”

  Lindsay bit her tongue before she could put in her two cents. What her sister needed more than advice was a little breathing room. “Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” she said.

  Kerrie Ann brought her head up, flashing Lindsay a grateful look, then rose to her feet. As she headed for the bathroom, Lindsay called after her, “I’ll leave the light on!”

  “What, you think I can’t find my way around in the dark?” Kerrie Ann turned to look at her.

  Lindsay smiled at her. “We all need a little help sometimes.”

  By the time Sunday rolled around, Lindsay’s trepidation about having her family meet Randall had eased somewhat. Who knew? Maybe this would be the kick she needed to force her into making a decision. She remembered a piece of advice Kerrie Ann had given her: Don’t overthink everything. Not that her sister was one to hand out advice, but she’d made a valid point. Lindsay knew she had a tendency to become mired. All that uncertainty, growing up, had left her fearful of change. But who was to say she couldn’t overcome it?

  The morning of the big day, he phoned to tell her he’d be late. “My father wants to see me,” he explained. “He said it was important.” Randall sounded less than thrilled.

  “Of course you should see him,” she said. “He’s your father.”

  “By blood only.”

  “Still, family is family.”

  “Yeah, about that …” Randall cleared his throat. “Lindsay, there’s something you should know. I would’ve told you sooner, but …” He let the sentence trail off. “We’ll talk about it when I get there, okay? If I’m going to be any later, I’ll let you know.”

  Lindsay hung up, wondering what he was being so mysterious about. Something to do with his family, he’d hinted. Some skeleton in the closet? Or was he indeed married, as she’d feared? Maybe he even had children. But she quickly chalked up her fears to an overactive imagination and decided she had enough real problems without inventing ones.

  Lindsay didn’t have a chance to dwell on it, in any event. Minutes later Kerrie Ann’s former boyfriend showed up unexpectedly. Jeremiah had driven Kerrie Ann to Oakview the day before to visit their daughter, and he was returning a sweater she’d left in his car.

  Lindsay had been fully prepared to dislike her sister’s ex-boyfriend but instead was disarmed. Jeremiah wasn’t the swaggering rocker she’d imagined. And he went out of his way to be ingratiating, showing them photos he’d taken of Bella with his camera phone. “She looks like me, don’t you think?” he said proudly as he scrolled through the images. “Kerrie Ann, too—look at that smile. She’s gonna be a real beauty, just like her mom.”

  Lindsay and Miss Honi agreed: Bella was the most beautiful child either of them had ever seen. “I can’t wait to meet her,” Lindsay said. Ever since she’d found out about Bella, she’d been looking forward to the day when Bella could come for a visit.

  “You’ll love her. She’s a sweetie. Smart, too. She walked right up to me and said, ‘Are you my daddy?’” His smile widened into a grin. “Can you beat that?”

  “I wouldn’t call it smart. I’d call it ESP. Since she ain’t seen hide nor hair’a you since she was a baby,” Miss Honi remarked with typical acerbic flair.

  Jeremiah looked appropriately chastened. “I know. I haven’t been much of a dad. But I’m gonna make it up to her. She’s my girl, you know? My other girl, I should say.” He turned to Kerrie Ann, who blushed.

  Lindsay and Miss Honi exchanged a worried look.

  “Coffee?” Lindsay offered in an effort to change the subject. She didn’t want to think about what else might have transpired on that trip to Oakview yesterday.

  “No thanks. I should get going—I’m seeing a guy about a job,” he told them. “Wish me luck, okay?” He flashed Kerrie Ann a meaningful glance before returning his gaze to Lindsay and Miss Honi. “But hey, it was great meeting you both. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon.” He shook Lindsay’s hand, then Miss Honi’s when she grudgingly offere
d it.

  Kerrie Ann jumped up to see him out, and Lindsay didn’t miss the proprietary hand that rested lightly against the small of her sister’s back as they fell into step.

  All right, so Jeremiah wasn’t the devil incarnate, she thought. But he might still be a bad influence. Even if he meant well, he could end up triggering those old self-destructive patterns of Kerrie Ann’s. Or he could fall off the wagon and drag her down with him.

  There was Ollie, too. He’d be crushed.

  Be careful what you wish for … Lindsay had wished for something or someone to distract her sister from Ollie, but she’d never imagined it would come at such a price.

  At quarter to one, Randall phoned to let her know he was on his way. Twenty minutes later he pulled into the driveway just as she was attempting to coax Chester out of her flower bed, where he was frantically sniffing at a gopher hole. Randall came over and squatted down next to her. He whistled, and Chester crept out, tail wagging, to lick his hand. It seemed that Randall’s seductive charm extended to the animal kingdom as well.

  “How did you do that?” she asked, rocking back on her heels to eye him in amazement.

  He stroked the old Lab’s gray-flecked muzzle. “Dunno. Dogs just like me, I guess.”

  Randall turned to look at her. With the sunlight on his face, his blue eyes seemed even bluer. She could see the fretwork of fine lines at their corners, lines that curved down to meet his temples as his mouth stretched in a smile. It was all she could do to keep from kissing him.

  “How did it go with your dad?” she asked as they made their way to the house.

  Randall’s expression clouded over. “All right, I guess.”

  “What was it he wanted to talk to you about?”

  “Nothing much. Just family stuff.” He appeared preoccupied, frowning down at the redwood-bark path as they strolled along, his hands jammed into the pockets of his olive-drab chinos. She sensed him holding back. When at last he raised his head to meet her gaze, his eyes were troubled and his brow furrowed. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about—”

  Before he could finish, Miss Honi stuck her head out the back door to holler, “Sugar, you been hogging that boy long enough. Bring him on in so he can meet the rest of the clan!”

  Lindsay turned to Randall with a grin. “That,” she said, “is Miss Honi Love.”

  Randall and Miss Honi got on like a house on fire. Within minutes it was as if they’d known each other all their lives. Over a lunch of lasagna, garlic bread, and a tossed salad, she regaled him with her colorful tales. “We weren’t called strippers in my day. We were exotic dancers,” she told him in answer to his question about her former profession. “And none of that cheap stuff they go in for today. Wriggling ’round on fellas’ laps and Lord knows what else. We were performers.” She tipped her chin up in proud defiance. “I know some folks don’t see it that way, but it’s no mean feat to make each and every fella feel like he’s got you alone in his bedroom, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, before you’ve taken off so much as a stitch. And we didn’t take it all off, neither,” she added with a sniff. “Where’s the fun in that? You gotta keep ’em guessing.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” said Randall, clearly amused.

  “She’s right. I went to a nude beach once, and it was a total bust,” said Kerrie Ann. She caught the double entendre and laughed. “I don’t mean there weren’t a lot of bare boobs and, you know, other body parts. Just that it wasn’t sexy. None of the guys were checking out even the chicks with hot bodies. Not like if we’d been wearing bikinis.”

  “What’s sex without a little mystery?” said Lindsay, surprising herself. Normally she felt uncomfortable discussing sex, not wanting to be reminded of the days when she’d known far more about the birds and the bees than any child should.

  “Amen to that.” Miss Honi stabbed with her fork at a wedge of tomato on her plate. “How d’you think I keep ’em coming back at my age? It ain’t by waltzing ’round buck naked in broad daylight, that’s for damn sure. Any fella what got a good look at that would run for the hills if he had any sense. But hell, what he don’t know won’t hurt ’im, right?”

  They all chuckled over that, and when Lindsay glanced at Randall, she could see that he was thoroughly charmed.

  Even Kerrie Ann, who had been a little distracted since Jeremiah’s visit, seemed to be enjoying herself. By the time coffee and dessert were served, the four of them were chatting like old friends.

  “Where you been keeping this boy?” Miss Honi demanded of Lindsay as she helped herself to another slice of cake. “He’s just what we need around here, the kind of man to shake things up.” She cast Lindsay a significant glance before returning her bright-eyed gaze to Randall. “I hope you’ll come see us again. Feel free to drop by any ol’ time.”

  Before he could answer, Lindsay jumped in. “Randall’s working on his new book, so I’m sure he’ll be tied up for a while.”

  “Nonsense,” said Miss Honi with a wave of her beringed hand. “Ain’t no one ever too busy to sit down with friends for a cup of coffee and a piece of cake.” To emphasize her point, she took another bite of Ollie’s banana-streusel Bundt cake.

  Lindsay gave Randall a strained smile. “I’m sure you get this all the time. People who think the creative process is like waving a magic wand when it’s really just plain, old-fashioned hard work.”

  He grinned as he leaned back in his chair. He was enjoying himself—as was Miss Honi. The old woman clearly saw Randall as a welcome catalyst who would stir things up, put a wedge between Lindsay and Grant. If this were a Jane Austen novel, Lindsay thought, Miss Honi would have her practically married off to him by now.

  “True enough,” he agreed, “but if you’re cooped up for too long, the writing tends to get a little stale. Besides, you never know, one of these days I might decide to make one of my characters a retired exotic dancer—a lovely lady of a certain age who hasn’t lost any of her powers.” He tipped a wink at Miss Honi, who, Lindsay noted with amusement, was still capable of blushing.

  “If you ever want to write about life in the breakdown lane, come talk to me. I could tell you stories,” said Kerrie Ann with a frankness that surprised Lindsay—her sister didn’t usually talk about her past to those outside the program. “Like, did you ever wonder why there’s twelve steps in the twelve-step program and only ten commandments in the Bible? That’s ’cause, with us, it usually takes a couple of extra knocks on the head. And most of us never do get it right.”

  “I may just take you up on that,” he said, chuckling. “In the meantime, mind if I borrow that quote?”

  “Sure, help yourself.” Kerrie Ann looked pleased.

  Am I the only one around here who’s managed to keep her head on her shoulders? thought Lindsay. Not that she was immune. With Randall, she felt as if she were a passenger speeding in a car, part of her enjoying the ride and part of her wanting to slow down.

  “Why don’t I show you around?” she suggested as soon as she could tear him away. “If you’re going to take pictures, you should do it while there’s still plenty of light.”

  “Ladies, will you excuse me?” Randall stood, eyeing Miss Honi and Kerrie Ann with regret. “Hopefully we can continue this conversation another time.”

  “Don’t be a stranger, now, you hear?” Miss Honi gave him a twin-barreled hug.

  “I’ll cook you dinner some night,” volunteered Kerrie Ann.

  Even Chester seemed sorry to see Randall go. He stood by the door wagging his tail and gave Lindsay an aggrieved look when she told him, “No, boy. You stay here. I’ll take you for your run later on. This is business.” She placed emphasis on the word “business.”

  Outside, Randall dashed off to fetch his camera bag from his car. When he returned, she remarked wryly, “You certainly made a hit. Are you this good with all the ladies?”

  “Only the ones that strike my fancy,” Randall drawled in a fair imitation of Miss Honi’s Tex
as twang. He reached to take Lindsay’s hand as soon as they were out of sight of the house.

  It wasn’t long before they’d ventured past her tidily landscaped yard into the open field beyond, where the wildflowers were in bloom, spattering the tall grass with bright dabs of color: purple thistle and lupine, golden poppies, and the bright yellow heads of dandelions. It was late in the day, and the sky was as clear as the ocean sparkling off in the distance—a clarion call of a sky in which seabirds looped and wheeled like stunt aerialists and any stray clouds were quickly chased away by the gentle breeze that was blowing. Lindsay breathed in the salty air, thinking that if she ever had to leave this place, she’d probably wither away and die, like the native cypress that couldn’t survive outside this climate.

  They walked the length of the field, Randall pausing frequently along the way to snap photos. Finally they came to a stop at the culvert that marked her property line. On the other side of the culvert lay fields, now fallow, that until recently had been a working farm.

  “You’re looking at nine holes of a planned eighteen-hole golf course,” she said, pointing out the weed-choked furrows. “You can imagine how happy the Heywood Group was at my being the lone holdout. My land sits right smack in the middle of their little Xanadu.”

  “A fitting analogy.” At the quizzical look she shot him, Randall explained, “You may recall that Xanadu comes from the Coleridge poem about Kublai Khan, the grandson of Genghis Khan and the founder of the Mongol dynasty. A man who stopped at nothing when conquering foreign lands.”

  “Trust a writer to pinpoint the reference,” she smiled, though she felt he was missing the point. “I’m afraid I’m too close to it to have any kind of perspective. For me, it’s very personal.” She sought to explain it. “Before I came here, all I knew about the ocean came from watching movies and TV. When I saw it for the first time, I couldn’t get over it—how wild it was. How majestic. You’re always reminded of the danger as well as the beauty, and that somehow makes you feel more alive. Does that make sense?”