by Ruby Laska
But that was okay. What could be better than a crisp fall day, the smell of burnt leaves in the air, riding down to the job with the windows cranked open in the old truck, steam rising off the Styrofoam coffee cup his Dad held loosely in his free hand while he drove? Or walking out the door at the end of the day, heavy boots crunching on the gravel, matching steps with his father as they headed home for a meal of thick bacon and home fries?
True, Pete had been a man of few words. But it never occurred to Mac to wish for more until it was too late, until the cancer had triumphed and stolen his voice.
Almost too late, anyway. At the end, desperate to hang on to some part of his father, Mac had asked. Tried, anyway. Trouble is, there’s no easy place to begin when you’ve spent thirty years in companionable silence. Were you happy? What did life teach you? What do you regret? These were the questions Mac struggled to get out.
But he failed. He murmured soothing words, inane words of solace that neither of them believed. Nothing was revealed. No secrets passed on.
And in the end, his father just took one last breath, seemed to savor it for a minute, and exhaled.
And then he died, closing the books on a silent life full of hard knocks and simple rewards.
Now Amber was stirring it all up again.
Amber gave the greens in the plastic container a half-hearted stir with her plastic fork. A few shreds of carrot and some stale croutons were all that broke up the monotony of iceberg lettuce.
Still, even a takeout meal from the grocery store salad bar was better than another diner meal. For one thing, she was going to have to watch it or the hearty fare that Sheryn had been insisting on would put a few inches on her waist.
And for another, if she ate in her room, she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew.
It had been a long afternoon. After her lurching retreat down the trail, picking up a few painful scratches on her legs from the overgrown brush, she returned in time to freshen up a bit before meeting with Gray.
“This is her craziest notion yet,” he’d muttered in lieu of greeting when he opened their motel room door. Pushing his reading glasses wearily up on his nose and waving a stack of papers, he thankfully didn’t seem to notice the redness in her eyes or the wrinkles in her dress, wrinkles she would ordinarily never allow.
“Speaking of Sheryn...is she joining us?”
“Naw.” Gray sighed, and glanced at Amber over the top of his glasses. “She found a native arts shop somewhere and now she’s off looking for something for the house. Quilts, weaving, that sort of thing.”
“Ah...maybe it’s just as well.”
“You said it, not me. Maybe we’ll be able to get something done around here if she’s found something to keep her busy. You’re right about these folks, Amber. They’ve zoned themselves up tight as a drum. You’d think they were trying to preserve the Notre Dame rather than a few dusty old buildings and a couple of stoplights.”
For several hours they went over the myriad details of the early stages of a huge development: feasibility studies they would need to commission, the negotiations for real estate, the local labor pool.
Amber had trouble staying focused. The image of Mac coming up the ridge played over and over in her mind. His sandy hair lifting a little in the sultry breeze, the creases around his eyes as he squinted in the sun.
When he had sat down next to her, leaning back on his elbows so close to her she could smell his clean, soapy scent, it would have been so easy to just close her eyes...and pretend. Pretend that those years hadn’t passed and left their love behind.
Pretend that Mac would open the old hamper and take out a couple of frosty bottles of Coke, sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper. And an old radio. And as the sun settled in for its evening descent, they would make love on a grassy bed, serenaded by the birds and bugs and the gentle wind that blew up here like nowhere else.
Yes, it would have been easy to do that. But Amber was a strong woman, strong enough to keep her eyes wide open in the present.
Wasn’t she?
“Amber? Did you hear me?”
Startled out of her reverie by Gray’s tired voice, Amber rubbed her eyes vigorously. “I’m sorry, I’m just having a little trouble digesting all that information.”
“No matter.” Gray set down the papers on the Formica table and pushed back his orange-upholstered chair. “I think anyone would have trouble concentrating in this place. Makes you miss the old homestead, eh?”
More than you could possibly know. The polished-mahogany table in the conference room at the Sawyers’ house seemed like it was a million miles away.
“I’d be glad to try again after dinner, if you like,” Amber said gamely.
“Actually...” Amber glanced up to see Gray’s features turn a burnished red, and a sheepish grin spread slowly across his face. “To tell you the truth, I think Sheryn’s picking up a few things for dinner. Trying to hook me on the local fare, I guess. She said we’d have us a picnic right here in the room.”
“Oh.” Amber matched Gray’s blush with one of her own. No doubt about it, Sheryn was planning one of her grand seductions. Any time she and Gray were separated for a few days, she liked to do something out of the ordinary in the way of a reunion.
“It’s just as well. I think I’d like to turn in early,” Amber said, quickly gathering her things. No need to let Gray know that she’d probably spend the evening staring at the walls and thinking about Mac. Dean hadn’t called again, so Amber assumed that he’d realized she’d been right; it was crazy for him to come all that way just to talk when she’d be home in a few days.
“Um, Amber?”
“Yes?” Amber paused, sliding her things into her briefcase.
“I was wondering. I have some documents I’d like to have the mayor review before the city council meeting. Now you know I’d be glad to take care of this myself but I was thinking it might be easier...”
Amber didn’t miss the crafty twinkle in Gray’s eye. Honestly, the man was impossible. If only he knew how hopeless the situation was.
But that would mean telling him more than she wanted to, right now. A lot more. And besides, this was her job. There hadn’t been a day since she began with the Sawyers when she didn’t conduct herself as a professional. And she wasn’t about to start now.
“I’d be glad to drop them off,” she said lightly, accepting the thin sheaf. “I’ll swing by there in the morning. The city council doesn’t convene until one p.m. so he’ll have several hours to look them through.”
“Oh. You don’t want to take them over tonight?” Gray said, thinly-veiled disappointment in his voice.
Amber flashed him a grin. He was sweet, if misguided. “No, I have a takeout meal and a stack of pillows waiting. I’m beat.”
True to her word, a couple of hours later she was stabbing a few leaves of lettuce and watching a re-run of a crime show. The papers sat untouched in her briefcase. Even if it was depressing as hell, at least the evening’s entertainment was low-calorie.
“Trust me, you’re not going to find a Twinkie at this hour,” Amber grumbled. “The whole town practically shuts down at six o’clock.” Shaking her limbs to get the sluggishness out of them, she had to run a few steps to catch up with Sheryn.
“I saw a vending machine outside the fire station,” Sheryn answered stubbornly, striding with impossible speed in her glittery sneakers and pink shorts and matching top. “I tell you, there’s nothing for the appetite like a little romp in the old love nest. I could eat a horse!”
“I’m sure Gray would be flattered,” Amber said dryly.
“Gray? Oh, he was out like a light. He’ll be sleeping well tonight.”
“Yeah, well, I’m glad somebody is. You know, the fire station is almost a mile from here.”
“I do appreciate you coming with me,” Sheryn said, giving her an affectionate squeeze on the arm. “I know it’s almost nine at night, and you’ve worked hard today. You’ve been a real doll about everyth
ing. But tell me, is there anything else you need to talk about?”
Amber didn’t answer for a moment. Walnut Street was illuminated by a big silvery moon as well as the few street and shop lights. No one else was out on the sidewalks, though undoubtedly things were hopping over at Buzzy’s.
Amber forced herself not to wonder how Mac was spending the evening. She focused on the familiar sights they were passing.
“Look,” she said. “See that bench, over by the bank parking lot? That’s where I first kissed a boy.”
“Oooh, was it Mac?”
Amber shook her head, smiling a little. Not much got past her friend. “No, a boy named Hutch Stapleton. You know, I knew him for years and I never knew what his real name was. But I’ll never forget, he had the cutest dimples. And over there—that used to be Millie’s Sweet Shop. I used to work there sometimes after school, sweeping up. Millie was a cranky old gal, but she had a heart of gold.” Amber paused for a moment before adding, “And I suppose she’s passed away by now. I can’t imagine it, somehow—Walnut Street without Millie walking home after work, night after night, with that same black umbrella tucked under her arm, rain or shine.”
“Life has a way of doing that,” Sheryn said gently. “Throwing you for a loop. Changing, when you’re not looking. Things never stay the same.”
“You can say that again,” Amber said softly.
“But the important things don’t change,” Sheryn continued. “No matter what happens when I’m on the road, I know that Gray will be there when I get back. I know that every Thanksgiving all my nieces and nephews will come and completely mess up the house—and I’ll love every minute of it. And when they’re all grown up, it’ll be their kids who come every year. And some day their grandkids, God willing.”
“You’re so lucky,” Amber said quietly.
“And of course you’ll always be a part of our family, too. But Amber, even when you come into the world without a lot of luck, as you did, you keep getting chance after chance. God never turns His back on you completely. Sometimes—”
Sheryn stopped and turned, facing Amber in the pale moonlight.
“Sometimes you get lucky enough to go back and change the past. Amber, I think now is one of those times. I think you’re being given an opportunity that you shouldn’t pass up.”
For a long moment, the two women stood close together, the only sound made by a sleek cat jingling its tags as it walked along a fence nearby.
Amber looked down, unable to respond. And then the moment was over. Sheryn began walking again, and Amber took a few loping strides to catch up.
“Sure hope they have my cupcakes in that machine,” Sheryn said with grim determination.
An hour later they were back in the parking lot of the motel.
“This was a good idea,” Amber admitted.
“Yeah, I was starving,” Sheryn said, licking the last of the creamy filling from her fingers.
“No, I meant just getting out—clearing my head a little. And talking. Thanks, Sheryn.”
“Thank me later,” Sheryn said, scanning the half-empty parking lot. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that Lover Boy’s car over there?”
Following Sheryn’s gaze, Amber spotted the sleek red sports car carelessly parked across two spaces, the familiar “STAR 2 B” license plate illuminated by the harsh glare of the streetlight.
“Oh, no,” she groaned. “I was hoping he’d changed his mind. I couldn’t imagine he was serious about driving all this way. I don’t think I’m up for this.”
Sheryn looked at the car and back at Amber. “It’s over between you and him, isn’t it?”
Amber nodded. “Yes, although now I’m wondering whether I made it quite clear enough. I should never have agreed when he said he wanted to come all the way here, even if it is just to talk.”
“Sounds like maybe he wants to do more than just talk.”
Amber sighed. “I actually think it’s been over for a while. Things haven’t been right between us for months, only I could never find the right time, the right words to end it. Then before you and I came down here, I told him that I thought it was best if we stopped seeing each other.”
“Ouch. I had no idea. How’d he take it?”
Amber wrinkled her nose and managed a tiny smile. “About like you’d expect, I guess. First I think he was shocked. I get the feeling he’s not used to women, um...”
“—telling him to take a hike? I guess not,” Sheryn said, grimacing. “That boy thinks he’s something, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, Sheryn, he’s not that bad,” Amber said, giggling. “Although he sure did turn a funny shade of pink. And he wouldn’t take no for an answer, no matter how many ways I tried to say it. Made me promise I’d ‘think about it’ on this trip. So I promised. I mean, what could it hurt?”
“Thought you’d come around, was that it?”
Amber shrugged. “Maybe. But he has to know that things haven’t been good for a while. I’m sure that once he had a chance to think things over, he came to the same conclusion I did.”
She paused, remembering. She and Dean had been together whenever their schedules allowed. They’d attended concerts, parties, benefits. They’d been photographed together countless times, their smiles captured for a waiting public.
But in all that time, she couldn’t recall a single conversation that left her heart pounding. A caress that lingered the way Mac’s did. A glance that held a fraction of the heat generated every time Mac looked her way.
And yet, he was comfortable. Being with him, even if he never stirred her passions, made her feel secure. There were no doors that wouldn’t open for Dean Hamilton; maitre d’s tripped over themselves finding the right tables. Amber hated to admit it, but being with Dean had made her feel like life would never be hard again.
Or, at least, like she’d never again have to plunge hands aching from hard work into a bucket of detergent.
But that security came with a price.
“I feel like we’ve been treading water. In some ways Dean and I were exactly what the other was looking for.”
“Well, he’s good looking, I’ll give him that,” Sheryn conceded.
“I suppose. But more than that, he’s made it. Or at least he’s about to. And for some reason that seemed really, really important to me. Does that make me just awful?”
“Oh, no, Amber, it doesn’t make you awful,” her friend said softly. “With what you’ve been through, girl, no one could blame you for wanting a prince, someone who could really take care of you for a change.”
“Yeah, I guess I just didn’t know what that meant until now. With Dean, nothing was ever really wrong. We never argued. In some ways, I don’t think I figured out it wasn’t going to work until...”
Until the moment she and Mac exchanged that first kiss? The one neither of them expected, that changed everything?
“Mmm hmm.”
That look. That look in Sheryn’s eyes, the one that Amber had learned to dread, the one that announced an idea was forming in that over-active imagination.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, Sheryn, but—”
“Just what would it take to get you to move back here, girl?”
“Sheryn,” Amber sputtered. “I hate it here. I’ve spent my whole life trying to escape. How could you even suggest such a thing?”
“Well, I could argue that point. When I see the way your eyes light up when we walk these streets, watch you greet the people that live here with love, I think I could make a very good case that this place has its hooks in you. But girl, I think you and I both know that there is one very compelling reason for you to give it some thought. In fact, even if this was a barren desert rather than one of the loveliest places on the planet, I think you’d do well to think about changing your address.”
“But...” Amber’s mind raced, looking for arguments. “My job...” she said weakly.
“Heavens, am I going to have to fire you to get you
to take me seriously?” Sheryn threw up her arms in exasperation. “Amber, you’re just about the smartest person I’ve ever met. Dozens of folks have been trying to hire you away from me for years. Do anything you want. Take up golf. Or needlepoint. Run for Heartbreak’s city council, for goodness’ sake! Just move your sweet self back here where you belong.”
“Sheryn,” Amber pleaded quietly. “This is all too much. I can’t—can’t even absorb everything you’re saying. I’m not saying you’re wrong, but I need time to think. Time to process everything. I—”
Sheryn placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Look at me, Sugar. Time is not what you need. I know how you operate. You’ll sit and stew and argue with yourself until you’ve convinced yourself to do the logical thing. The proper thing. The thing that’s guaranteed to keep you miserable for the rest of your life. What you need is to listen to your heart for once. Right?”
Amber looked into Sheryn’s eyes, and for a moment saw herself reflected back. Her old self. The self that had listened to her heart, followed its dictates, run wherever the wind and whim had led.
Perhaps Sheryn was right.
“Okay now, tell you what I’m going to do,” Sheryn said, suddenly brisk. “I’ll baby-sit Dean for you for a few hours, buy him a drink or two, and you run and do what you have to do.”
“Oh, Sheryn...” Amber hesitated, twisting the fabric of her cotton T-shirt in her fingers.
“It’s your chance,” Sheryn urged. “Now go on. Go back there and change the past. And Amber? Make sure you work out a happy ending this time.”
CHAPTER NINE
A second truck was parked in front of Mac’s house.
It was nothing like the sleek red machine next to it, whose cab had housed her reunion with Mac just three nights earlier. This one had seen better days. Small and compact, its flaky yellow paint was marred by dents and scratches. One door panel was green, and the rear bumper sagged on the left side. A pair of giant pink fake-fur dice hung from the rear-view mirror, and a bumper sticker proclaimed “I have an honor roll student at Heartbreak Elementary!”
