by Helen Conrad
She smiled at Jeremy, encouraging him. “Bananas are yellow,” she said matter-of-factly, and then, not giving that time to completely sink in, she went on. “Do you know what the banana said to the monkey?”
His eyes shifted again, but this time there was definite interest in them. “No.”
“Nothing.” She shrugged as though it were self-evident. “Bananas can’t talk. Do you know why the elephants quit their jobs at the ballpark?”
Laughter was beginning to bubble just below the surface. Little-kid laughter that went with silly jokes. She could see it in his eyes. He was sitting up straighter, looking at her, his misery starting to fade. “Why?”
“They were tired of working for peanuts.”
There was a real, honest giggle this time. Pleased, she grinned at him and ventured just one more.
“Do you know how to tell when a rhinoceros is getting ready to charge?’’
He giggled at the very concept. “No. How?”
“He takes out his credit card.”
They all laughed that time. Carly met Joe’s gaze and he was laughing too. The ice was broken. The rest of the lunch hour passed quickly, and the longer they sat together, the more they laughed. Carly felt a sense of peace and happiness she hadn’t felt in a long time. She’d done something good here. She could feel it.
Joe watched her, glad despite everything that he hadn’t sent her away just yet. She was good for Jeremy. She was good for the mood in this house. It was too bad she couldn’t stay.
She threw out a mock insult, making him laugh again. He teased her and reached across the table to dab at her milk mustache with his napkin and saw how his son looked at her with laughing eyes. Damn it all, it was really too bad.
Joe left to load the tractor onto the trailer he was attaching to the back of the truck. Jeremy went to his bedroom to play video games. Carly straightened the kitchen, then went to the den to peruse the older books, looking for anything that might shed some light on the history of Destiny and the valley. She wanted to lay a firm foundation for her search for her father.
She found plenty of material covering the old Spanish land grants of the early nineteenth century, about the pioneers who came across the mountains to settle the valley after gold was discovered in the 1840s, how the Californios lost most of their land to taxes and greedy speculators by the turn of the century, the coming of the Okies from the Dust Bowl during the Great Depression, the post-war building boom. It was all very interesting, but not specifically related to her problems, and therefore not very helpful. But the afternoon slipped away quickly and suddenly she realized it was almost time for Beth to come home from school.
That meant one thing. Dinner loomed. Tonight she was determined to make something herself and not rely on frozen dinners.
A quick perusal of the kitchen brought good news. All the makings of a quick spaghetti sauce were present and accounted for, as well as a nice big package of very long noodles, bread perfect for smothering in garlic butter and lettuce and tomatoes for a crisp salad. This she could do, and she set about doing it, humming all the while.
The phone rang. It was Doris.
“Carly? Are you all right?”
No. Actually, she was in a tailspin of sorts. But she wasn’t so sure any longer that she wanted rescuing from it. So she lied.
“I’m fine, Doris. It’s hectic around here, but...”
“You sound like a drowning woman on my answering machine, honey. I can be out there in half an hour.’’
“No. Actually, Doris, it’s okay. I was just a little panicked this morning. I’m sorry. I think I’ll stay.”
“You’re sure?”
She wasn’t sure of anything any longer. She’d come out here to get her head together, and instead of clearing her mind she was cluttering it up with all sorts of new puzzles that were meant to drive her crazy.
But she couldn’t tell Doris that.
“I’m sure,” she said wistfully. “I really appreciate your concern. But I think I’ll stick it out.”
She hung up the telephone and looked around her a bit nervously. She’d made a big decision here. She had a feeling there would be times when she would regret it. But she’d taken a step and she wouldn’t look back. She would take care of these kids as long as she stayed.
Suddenly she realized she hadn’t seen Jeremy for a long, long time. Memories of what had happened to him the day before surfaced, shaking her. She ran up to his room, but it was empty.
“Jeremy?” she called, walking quickly through the upper floor, then through the lower rooms. There was no answer, no sign of him. Her heart began to beat a little more quickly.
She ran outside, shading her eyes against the afternoon sun, calling again and again. But nothing moved except the wind in the trees. Silence lay over the land in a sleepy hush.
Now she was really beginning to get worried. There was something vulnerable about the boy that made this disappearance seem more ominous than it might have otherwise. And just yesterday he had proved how easily he could bumble his way into danger
“Jeremy?”
There was no answer, no sign of life in any direction. Pictures of the boy lying in a ditch spun into her mind—Jeremy being bit by a truck on the highway, Jeremy being picked up by a shifty-eyed stranger and carried off, Jeremy being shot by a hunter who mistook him for a coyote... The grisly possibilities were endless and they panicked her.
She turned back to look at the house and suddenly had a thought. That mysterious green door—it was time to find out what was behind it.
She ran into the house and up the stairs, not pausing to think for a moment before rapping sharply on the door. There was no answer, but she thought she could hear the sounds of a television on the other side. She rapped again more firmly, calling out, “Hello in there. I hope you don’t mind but I’m coming in.”
Taking the knob in her hand, she turned it and stepped into the room.
The room contrasted dramatically with the rest of the house. Drapes and couches in designer colors, thick, plush carpeting, raised wallpaper, filtered light. A small, tidy kitchen was set up in one corner. An elaborately carved wardrobe stood in another. The older woman who inhabited the room leaned back against pillows so white that they almost blinded the eye. A thick down comforter was casually draped across the bed, its pattern bold and expensive-looking.
And there, in front of a big-screen television, sat Jeremy, eating chocolates out of a five-pound, foil-covered box.
“Jeremy!” she cried with relief. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I was so worried.”
“Why, he was right here, visiting his grandmother,” the woman said brightly, her black eyes sparkling. “What’s so surprising about that?”
Carly looked at the woman and knew instinctively that she had set this up. But why?
“I’m Carly Stevens,” she said, putting her hand out. “You must be Joe’s mother.”
Phyllis Carrington took it with her pale fingertips and released it almost immediately. “Nice to meet you, dear. I hear you’ve been taking splendid care of the children.”
“Well, I don’t know much about child care, but I’ve been doing my best.”
“Of course you have.’’
Carly moved uncomfortably. She couldn’t put her finger on why, but she felt a lot of animosity from the woman. What could she possibly have against her? They’d barely met. She couldn’t see the expression in her shoe-button black eyes. They glittered and shone and reflected light, but they didn’t allow any sort of penetration.
Her impulse was to get out of there, but she couldn’t do that. Phyllis Carrington, regardless of how she felt about her, was a resource she couldn’t afford to ignore. Now that she had definitely decided to try to track her father down, she was going to have to do some serious digging.
“I don’t know how much Joe has told you about me,” she said, standing near the bed. “I lived here when I was a child, and I’m looking for information about
my father. I haven’t heard from him since I was ten years old. Howard Stevens was his name. Do you remember him?”
Phyllis sank back into her pillows with a look of resentment on her face that seemed to say she thought Carly was rushing things here. “Howard Stevens?” She pursed her lips and spoke reluctantly. “Now let me think. I do seem to remember that name. There was a man who ran a little grocery store—“
“That was him!” In spite of herself, Carly got excited. “What do you remember about him?”
“It seems to me he preached in that little white church on the corner of Sierra and Placer on Sundays....”
“Yes.” Carly forgot her wariness and sank onto the bed, smiling eagerly, moving the ivory-handled cane that lay in her way. “What else?”
Phyllis stiffened, as though annoyed somewhat by her familiarity. But she answered readily enough. “He was a tall, good-looking man. Though I wouldn’t say he looked a bit like you.”
“No. I take after my mother.”
“Well, all I remember is that he was there for a while, and then all of a sudden, he wasn’t there any longer. I don’t think I ever gave it a second thought.”
Carly felt a bit deflated. “You have no idea where he might have gone?”
Phyllis waved a negligent hand. “No. Not a clue.”
Carly blinked, looking at her with a slight frown. Somehow she had a feeling the woman was lying to her.
But maybe that was just because she wanted so badly to get further than this, and it seemed that it just wasn’t going to happen.
“Do you have any idea of anywhere I could go, anyone I could talk to about him?” she persisted.
Phyllis’s mouth tightened. “No, as I told you, I hardly knew the man.”
Carly drew back, looking toward the window. “That’s what Millie said,” she murmured.
Phyllis sat up straighter. “You’ve talked to Millie about this?” she demanded.
Carly looked at her, surprised by her vehemence. “Yes.”
The woman made a visible effort to calm herself. “You—you shouldn’t bother Millie with such things.”
“Bother her?” Carly was puzzled. “I just asked—“
“Millie has had a hard life. It does no good to remind her of things... like this.” Phyllis seemed agitated, her hands fluttering uselessly.
Carly’s inclination was to leave her alone to her delusions. But she couldn’t give up now. After all, she might find out something useful if she pressed a bit further, and so she stood over the bed, using body language along with everything else. She was glad that Jeremy was absorbed in his television show, leaving her free to talk.
“Remind her of what things?” she prodded. “What do you mean? Why should this upset Millie?”
Phyllis shook her head wordlessly, and Carly leaned a bit closer. “What is there in Millie’s past that you don’t want her reminded of?”
The woman’s eyes showed fear. Carly almost gasped aloud, it was so obvious. She held her breath, waiting for what Phyllis might say, knowing it was going to be something spectacular, something that would set her back on her heels.
But the moment of possibilities faded as quickly as it had come, and the eyes looked hard and shiny as pebbles once again. “Oh, you just don’t understand anything,” the woman fretted. “It’s not Millie’s past I’m worried about. It’s her future.” She gave Carly a triumphant look. “Joe and Millie will be getting married, you know,” she said smugly. “It’s just a matter of time.”
Carly drew back. This wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear at all. “Oh?” she said.
Phyllis was smiling now, confident once again. “Yes, of course. They’ve been sweethearts since they were children. Through one thing and another—the crazy twists of fate—they haven’t been able to get together. But finally the way is clear for them. They’ll be announcing their engagement any day now.”
Carly felt cold. It wasn’t that she believed what the woman was saying. But she could see that it was very much what Phyllis wanted for her son. “I see.”
“It’s fate, you know. They belong together. They always have.” Phyllis sighed happily. “I really think you should leave. Just pack up your cute little silk city clothes and get out. Joe doesn’t need you here. He can count on me to take a bigger part in caring for the children until Millie moves in. I’m feeling much stronger now. I can handle it. And, to tell you the truth, you’re just in the way.”
Carly stared at her, suddenly sure she knew who it was who had gone through her suitcases the night before. She was supposed to be almost bedridden, but she had been up and about not long ago. It gave her an odd little shiver down her back to think of this woman sitting up here like a giant black widow spider, spinning her web and watching everyone else from her perch. She turned and took in the view Phyllis had of the yard and the barn. She lay here all day keeping tabs on what was going on, didn’t she? She’d seen her talking to Joe this morning. She’d seen him taking hay from her hair.
Whirling, she looked into the woman’s eyes. Yes, she’d seen it all and she was determined to get Carly out of here before she did anything to ruin her plans for Millie.
“Thank you for your own personal insights into the situation,” she said carefully. “I’ll keep your opinion in mind.”
Throwing back what she hoped looked like a carefree smile, she went to the door.
“Let me know if you need anything,” she added, just before she went through the doorway and closed the green door behind her.
Only then did she allow herself to seethe a bit. What a controlling woman! To think that Joe could have been raised by a woman like that. Carly shook her head and turned back toward the kitchen. Funny, but that place was beginning to be her refuge.
Beth was already home, eating a snack over the sink, and Joe came home not long after. An hour of chatting with Beth and thinking over what she’d been through all day was just about enough to give her a perspective on what was going on around here and she was ready for him when he came back into the house.
Beth was off doing her homework. Jeremy had come down from his grandmother’s room, but he hadn’t said a word and Carly assumed he had gone to play in the den. So she was alone when Joe drove up and came in through the kitchen door.
She turned to face him. Her eyes met his. He hesitated, looking at her questioningly, and she felt her pulse quicken. Relentlessly, she forced back the reaction that seemed to come naturally when he was near. It was an automatic response, nothing more. She was going to have to train herself not to do it.
“Joe?” she said. “I—I need to talk to you.”
He half turned back toward the doorway and she reached out, afraid he was going to try to escape, and curled her hand around part of his forearm, holding him there.
“Joe, I have to know. Am I in the way here? Do you want me to leave? Because if you do...”
She didn’t get any further. Suddenly she realized someone had come in behind Joe. She didn’t have to look at her fully to know it was Millie, with Trevor bringing up the rear.
“Hi, Carly,” Millie said cheerfully. “I hope you don’t mind. Joe invited us to dinner.” Her gaze darted from Joe’s face to Carly’s hand on his arm, and then fixed itself on Carly’s eyes. “I thought you might need a little help on your first night cooking for the family.”
Carly had a perverse impulse to leave her hand right where it was, but she fought it. “Of course we’re happy to have you for dinner,” she said brightly, pulling away from Joe. “And I appreciate your offer to help.” She managed a fairly sunny smile at the woman. “But I’ve already taken care of that. Dinner is ready anytime the rest of you are.”
Millie and Joe both looked surprised, and Carly felt vindicated. She knew it was childish, but she made a vow right then and there to study the cookbook in the morning and never, ever, let this woman know just how inexperienced she was in the culinary arts.
Millie helped set the table in the dining room and then helped se
rve, and Carly relaxed, letting their natural liking for each other grow and make things easy between them. Dinner was pleasant enough. All the others at the table had known each other forever and were comfortable together, the children as well as the adults. Carly found herself getting quieter and quieter as the others talked about the history they shared. She wasn’t interested in the incidents so much as she was in watching Joe and Millie, trying to analyze their relationship.
Were they in love?
Joe had said he had no girlfriend, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. His mother certainly thought he and Millie were an item. And Millie was hanging around like someone who wanted to keep an oar in the water. Mutual affection—yes, they had that in spades. You could see it in their shared laughs, their nods and recognitions, the way they talked with each other. But love—she wasn’t so sure. Shouldn’t there be a sense of excitement when their eyes met? Shouldn’t there be a feeling that they longed to touch each other? Wouldn’t they be grabbing odd moments alone?
But maybe this wasn’t that sort of love. Maybe they had known each other so long, and so well....
“You see what I mean?” Trevor was leaning close to her and whispering in her ear as Joe and Millie teased each other about some picnic where Millie had dropped a cake on the grass.
Carly turned and smiled at him. “What?”
The boy’s face was endearingly earnest. “You see how much I’m starting to look like him? In the eyes, I mean. And my shoulders...”
Carly went numb. It came to her in a flash who he thought his father was. It was Joe, of course. Why hadn’t she realized it before?
Reaching for a glass of water, she drank it dry. She had to fight to keep her breath from coming in short gasps. Joe... Trevor’s father? Oh my God, no!
He was still whispering near her ear, comparing himself to Joe, but she couldn’t take in his words any longer. The idea filled her mind, filled her senses, and she couldn’t do anything but think quickly, trying to find reasons why it couldn’t be true.
Yet the facts kept coming back to haunt her. They’d always been friends. They’d known each other back then. Phyllis seemed to think they’d been close. And she should know. She’d said they were destined to be together. Was this what she’d meant, that it was only right, that Joe would be coming full circle when he married Millie?
