“What?” he asks.
“So that wasn’t your normal temperament then?”
He laughs and she is glad to see a little of the old Jason return. “No. I haven’t felt like that in years. I thought the memory loss was permanent. It’s really sudden the way it’s coming back.”
“Why now?” They turn and walk back down the beach. The sun rises further in the sky and families stake out their spots on the sand, setting up bright umbrellas and opening sand chairs. “After all these years.”
“I know exactly why. My doctor warned me this could happen under the right circumstances. The first circumstance is that I’m tired.”
“Rest is so important, Jason.”
“I know. But I’ve been looking for a place to move my studio and thought I might move it here. It’s a big job cleaning out the old barn. And I’m bogged down with work. So fatigue plays one part. The rest is that for the first time, I’m spending the summer here at my brother’s haunts.”
“Facing memories?”
He nods. “The doctors call them cues. They trigger my mind to remember. There’s really no way to control it, except to get through it.” He stops and throws a piece of driftwood far out into the water.
“Or leave it behind?”
“That’s always an option.”
Maris crouches down and lifts a piece of seaweed from the high tide line. Sea glass glistens amidst a few stones and sun-bleached shells. “When I was in high school, I went through a phase when I was really missing my mother. And I’d get so sad and couldn’t focus. There was a horse stable in town, and my father would take me horseback riding, to help.” She stands, squinting into the sun.
“They say animals are therapeutic.”
“It’s true,” she says as they continue walking. The boardwalk stretches before them. “Shadow took me places, not only physically, but in my thoughts. We rode miles and miles of trails through the woods, when I saw through his eyes.”
“Shadow?”
Maris smiles. “He was a huge black horse, and very old. Every single time I rode him, as soon as he caught sight of the barn at the end of our ride, he would break out in a gallop. Nothing could stop him from rushing to get home.”
They step onto the boardwalk. In the morning light, it looks different. What had pushed two men to the brink only hours ago is now a mirage beneath the sunshine. But still, it is there.
Jason kneels a leg on the seat and faces the boats behind the boardwalk. Maris stands beside him. She hears him take a long breath.
Today the beach will fill with families and conversation and suntan lotion and sandcastles. People will linger long into the afternoon, lying in the sun or swimming out to the raft. He needs some of this beach easiness.
“Hey,” she says. “Let me show you the designs I’m working on. I think you’ll like them.” He turns and looks at her. “Seriously. They’re inspired by Stony Point. Come on.”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“Do you have any of that crumb cake left?”
And she knows that, for him, breakfast on the porch will be so good, just like that horse ride through the trails.
“Mom?”
“Not now, Taylor,” Eva calls over her shoulder, annoyed at the interruption that comes as soon as she sits at her desk. The whole day has been like that. By the time Kyle left and Matt went in to work, the breakfast dishes needed cleaning. Two clients called about Open Houses listed in the Sunday paper and her mother called over her morning coffee. “I’m busy.” She clicks on the adoption site, wondering how many days have passed since she last checked. Her eyes search the screen.
“Mom.”
This time the voice is right behind her. Eva minimizes the screen and turns in her chair. “What is it now?”
Taylor rolls her eyes. “What are you so crabby about?”
“I’m not crabby. I’m really busy with work. Now what is it?”
“What were you working on?”
“It’s business, checking out houses.”
“Oh.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Kind of.”
Eva takes a quick breath. “Well am I going to have to pull it out of you?”
“Who were you looking at houses for?”
“What’s with the questions, Taylor?”
“Mrs. Curtis? The one who signed papers when the baby was three days old?”
“What?”
“Or Denise Gorman.”
Eva turns quickly to the screen. Taylor had read it over her shoulder. She saw the desperation, the scraps of identity clung to, the years of wondering.
“The teacher. It said she’s still searching and hasn’t stopped crying in twenty years.”
Eva turns to her daughter. “I don’t like it when you sneak up on me like that.”
“Well you said—”
“Never mind what I said.” She jabs her finger toward the door. “Get out of here.”
“But Mom—”
“Now!” Eva yells.
Taylor’s eyes fill with tears before she turns and runs upstairs to her room. A few moments later, Eva hears the thumping of her stereo, the volume cranked to the limit. She looks back at the computer and finds the Birthparents Searching screen, scanning for any new entries posted since she last checked. None fit her criteria. Her identity. None say that every February 11, their hearts break once again. None say their beautiful girl has auburn hair. None say how special the name Eva is. Or that she has her mother’s wide smile. Or her father’s eyes. They give no clues, no names to whisper when she studies her reflection.
She glances up at the ceiling, getting madder with each thumping intrusion into her quiet search. She finally pushes back her chair and marches up the stairs, finding Taylor sitting on the bed, arms wrapped around her knees, the stereo suddenly off.
“You know how I feel about playing music that loud,” Eva tells her.
“I turned it off, so leave me alone.” Taylor turns her head away.
Eva holds out her open hand. They don’t speak as she stands there, her outstretched arm not moving.
“What?” Taylor finally asks.
“Your cell.”
“Why?”
“You lost the privilege, playing music like that just to get me mad. Give it to me.”
Taylor slaps her cell phone into her mother’s hand and without looking back, Eva returns to her office and closes the door. The house is quiet enough to hear Taylor rushing down the stairs in her flip-flops, through the kitchen and out the side door, slamming it behind her. Eva looks at the computer screen and shifts a vase of faux marigolds beside it. She and her daughter both need a little time to settle down.
She stops seconds later, in the middle of typing in the next site address. Taylor was dressed to go out. Eva pictures her standing behind her. She wore khaki shorts, a new green tank top, beaded flip-flops, and had slung her straw butterfly purse over her shoulder. A seashell necklace looped around her neck. “Damn it,” she says, dropping her face into her hands. “I forgot about the movies.”
Maris closes up her front door and sees Taylor walking from a block away. Her sandals flip briskly, her gaze glued to the road ahead of her. “Hey you,” Maris says, but she walks past without noticing. “Taylor?” Maris calls after her. She checks her locked doorknob with a quick jiggle before catching up.
“Oh, Maris,” Taylor says. “I didn’t even see you.”
“I know. You’re a million miles away.”
“I wish I lived a million miles away. From my mother.”
“Your mom? What happened?”
“We got in a fight.”
“About what?”
“She said she would drive me and Alison to the movies but instead she’s cruising through all that adoption crap on the computer. Oh my heart breaks. Oh where is my baby? Still searching, searching, searching. I can’t stand it when she gets into that weepy stuff. Then it makes her all weepy.”
&n
bsp; “Are you sure that’s what she was doing?” Maris remembers how Matt didn’t like Eva searching out her parents online. So this is why.
“I saw her. I read the sob stories.”
“Maybe she was almost done?”
Taylor shakes her head. “When she starts, she sits in there for hours. She keeps pulling a gross tissue out of her pocket, sitting alone and staring into space. I mean, what about Dad? And Grandma and Grandpa? And me? She has us, but she acts like if she doesn’t have the people who gave her away then everything sucks.”
“Taylor. I think she’s curious about her other parents,” Maris explains. “Like she’s just wondering if they loved her at all or if they didn’t care. I mean, you know your mom loves you. But imagine if you didn’t know? I’m sure she doesn’t mean to ignore you like that.”
“But she promised to take us to the movies. The beach will be too hot and crowded today.”
“When does the movie start?”
“In an hour.”
“Well I was just on my way to see her.”
“Huh. Good luck.”
“Listen, let me talk to her. Here’s my key. Go get Alison and wait on my front porch, okay?”
“Why? I don’t even feel like going now.”
“Let’s just see what I can do. If she can’t drive you, I’ll give you a ride there.”
Taylor looks over her shoulder as though gauging the day. Beach versus movie. Bright, oppressive heat versus dark air conditioning. She fidgets with her seashell necklace. “Okay,” she finally agrees with a long breath.
“Good. I’ll talk to your mom.”
“Can you come with us? It would be more fun.”
“Oh, Tay. I’m leaving in a few days and I have so much to do. A ride I can manage, okay? Maybe an ice cream later on?”
Taylor nods easily. “Cool. That works for me.”
Maris knocks at Eva’s door. Her SUV is parked in the shade near the garage, so she’s definitely home. When Eva doesn’t answer, Maris walks inside, leaning against the doorjamb to Eva’s office, amazed that she doesn’t even sense her standing there. The computer screen scrolls through adoption listings until she taps lightly on the door.
“Taylor,” Eva says with annoyance. “What now?”
Maris raises an eyebrow. “We really need to talk,” she says.
Eva spins around in her chair. “Maris? I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I know. I knocked, though. Twice. The door was unlocked.”
Eva checks her watch. “I better log off. I didn’t realize how much time has passed.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“What?” She puts her hair behind her ears, pushing it back twice.
“From what Taylor tells me, once you start with that,” she hitches her chin to the computer screen, “she loses you for hours. Sometimes it’s days before you’re yourself again.”
“When did you talk to Taylor?”
“Just now. Outside.”
“She’s so moody lately. It must be hormones. Let me sign out here,” Eva says, turning back to the screen.
“Wait.” Maris reaches down and covers the mouse with her hand. She glances at the online messages. “Maybe Matt is right.”
“Matt?”
“You said he doesn’t like it when you do this.” Maris pulls a wooden chair up to the desk and reads the screen. “It changes you.”
The sky is bluer, the grass is greener, now that I’ve found you. The world is sweet, my days are heaven on earth. Maris glances at Eva before reading the next story, the next reunion. I’ve been crying for twenty-one years. Now that I’ve found you, they’re tears of joy.
She looks at Eva again, longer this time.
“Taylor’s being ridiculous,” Eva insists. “She gets me so mad lately. Like, I had to punish her and take away her cell phone. Do you know how long it’s been since she’s made me that mad?”
“Yup. I’ll bet it hasn’t happened at all since the last time you were searching for your birth parents.”
“What? You think this makes me mad?”
“Well it’s not Taylor. You know it isn’t. So don’t put it on her.”
Eva looks at her, then at the screen again. Maris sees that she really can’t stop. Her need to know the truth about her parents shows in the way she cannot tear her eyes away.
Eva scrolls down through the success stories. “Sometimes I’ll read the same screen over three times, just to be sure I didn’t miss something, some clue, or reference to my appearance. I analyze every circumstance to see if it fits with what I know.” She looks back at Maris. “And you’re right. Each time I reread a line, I get madder and madder.”
“Why though?”
“Because no one cares enough to wonder, I guess. To validate to me what they did.”
“You spoiled brat. You know what you need?”
“No. But I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”
“You need your ass kicked, seriously. You keep saying no one cares. No one cares. Well Matt and Taylor couldn’t care more. And if I’m not mistaken, when you were placed with Theresa and Ned, that became their job. To care and want you. And they’ve never ever stopped.”
“No they haven’t. But there’s still some emptiness there, they all talk about it online. Empty spots, empty hearts. And it seems so great when they fill it. I want that too.”
“But you only see the happy stories. You don’t see the reunions that go bad. You know, the ones that need a therapist or third-party to moderate. Those happen, too, Eva. Don’t kid yourself. So why don’t you let your beautiful family fill your emptiness? You’ll feel even more empty if you keep snapping at Taylor like you did today. One day, she might keep on walking.”
Eva glances at her watch and stands. “Taylor.”
“She’s at my place with Alison. I told her I’d drive them to the movies.”
“We’ll both go.” Eva grabs her daughter’s cell and half runs into the kitchen. She finds her keys and picks up her handbag. Maris watches from the porch. “Come on. We’ll get them to the movies and then work on this redecorating.” She motions to her living room. The furniture is pushed into the center of the room, all the pictures have been removed from the walls and rolls of new wallpaper line the baseboard molding.
Maris shakes her head. “You go fix things with Taylor. Your very real birth daughter who you have in your life every single day.”
“I don’t think she even had lunch yet.” Eva checks her watch again. “If I hurry, we can stop for a quick bite on the way.”
“Go,” Maris says, motioning her to the door.
Eva first stops and gives Maris a hug. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For the kick in the ass I needed.” She hurries outside into the bright sunlight and rushes to her car.
Chapter Ten
Every morning now, Kyle sits alone at the kitchen table before the sun rises. A ceiling fan paddles the still air, the curtains hang limp at the open window. He’s never felt like this before, this scared. No way can he tell Lauren about his boardwalk jaunt. His marriage is screwed up enough as it is. His hair, drying after a shower, clings to his head; a cup of coffee cools in front of him.
That night winds its way through everything he does. Jerry will be showing him the delivery schedules and he pictures falling off in the other direction. Jerry discusses menu preparation in the heat and Kyle rubs the bruise beneath his shirt sleeve. Jerry explains estimating food requirements, anticipating the amount of perishable food needed on hand, and Kyle hears Jason telling him off. His days start before dawn and last until evening and he hardly stops thinking of how close he came to dying. The sensation of Jason’s iron grip on his arm stays.
After a second shower Wednesday morning, he combs out his damp hair, dresses in a t-shirt and black pants for work and finds his shoes near the nightstand. Lauren is still asleep, the sheet twisted around her legs. He sits on the edge of the mattress and watches her. Finally, he
touches her shoulder. “Hey,” he says.
She opens her eyes and looks at him sitting near her. For a moment, he is certain their life hasn’t come back to her. They are in that window of time before she has to get ready for work, dress the kids, make breakfast and think whatever it is she thinks lately. He had only told her that he’d gotten drunk the other night. But for this moment, in the dim bedroom, with the air conditioner humming and sunshine outlining the blinds, that life isn’t there yet.
“Don’t you have to get up now?” Kyle asks. “It’s almost six-thirty.”
Lauren turns her head to see the alarm clock. Her blonde hair fans out behind her neck and he wants to touch it, to stroke her face and stop the time on that clock right there. His eyes close for a long second and it feels hard to breathe.
“Kyle?”
He opens his eyes. Her voice still sounds sleepy, her bare legs are still twisted in the sheet. It is all he can do to not climb onto the bed and wrap his arms around her, to imagine her murmurs, to slip her nightshirt off her shoulders and make love by the low morning light. To imagine how things used to be.
She raises her hand and touches his arm. “What happened?”
His whole life abridges beneath her fingers on his skin. He glances at the purple bruise she touched and sees the evidence of Jason’s strength. “I don’t know. I must have bumped into something.”
“Oh. Looks horrible.” She sweeps the sheet off her legs and lifts her robe from the end of the bed. “I’m taking a shower. I guess I’ll see you tonight.”
She walks out of the bedroom leaving behind only a possibility still hanging on in their lives. For a second, he had thought it possible her touch could move up his arm and say something else. It still could stop on his shoulder and pull him close. It could wish him good luck at the diner. Anything. Instead he has Jason’s grip. He stands then, straightens the sheet, smoothes the wrinkles and makes the bed before leaving for work. Jerry expects him by seven. He bought a spiral notebook and pen to take notes this week. Twenty-five years of experience drives Jerry. Kyle takes down every word of it, as though his life depends on it.
Blue Jeans and Coffee Beans Page 9
