Lover's Lane

by Jill Marie Landis

  “Grandma? Are you real old?”

  “Not that old. Why?”

  “ ’Cause I don’t want you to die.”

  She pulled back. “I have no intention of dying anytime soon. Why on earth would you say a thing like that?”

  “Well, I’ve been waiting a really long time to get a grandma and I don’t want you to die now that I have you.”

  Jake had kept his distance when Anna first walked up to Carly and Christopher. After a few minutes, Chris ran across the park and Anna followed slowly behind.

  Carly was left standing alone, valiant, but terrified.

  As much as he’d tried to convince himself to butt out of her life, he still couldn’t bear to let her go through what had to be one of the hardest moments of her life alone.

  She didn’t notice him drawing near until he was almost beside her.

  “Carly?”

  “Oh, Jake. I had no idea this would be so hard.”

  Tears shimmered in her eyes. She looked so abandoned, so uncertain, that without thinking, he slipped his arm around her shoulders, expecting her to shrug him off, but her attention was completely focused on Anna and Christopher, and she ended up leaning against him.

  “He’s so happy,” she whispered.

  Christopher was looking at photos in Anna’s wallet.

  “I don’t have one single picture of Rick.” Carly drew in a long breath, shuddered. “When Chris was a toddler, I thought of framing a photo from a magazine and telling him it was his daddy, but then I realized that when he grew up, I’d have to tell him the truth. He is forever asking me what his dad looked like, if he was strong, what kind of a car he drove.”

  As if she only just realized she was leaning against him, she straightened, but didn’t move away. “I used to tell him to go look in the mirror and he’d see just what Rick looked like.” Then she let go a melancholy sound that might have been a laugh. “Chris said, ‘Mom, did my dad really look like a little kid?’ ”

  Jake reached into his back pocket, pulled out his own wallet, and handed her the photo he’d carried for so long. He watched her study the picture of her and Christopher taken in Borrego. The color faded from her cheeks when she realized the picture wasn’t trimmed, but folded. She lifted the edge and looked down at the complete picture. It was of Chris, Rick, and her. One of the shots Wilt had taken for them.

  “I’ve carried that around ever since Rick died and I started searching for you.”

  She ran her fingers around the frayed edges. “I was so young.” She shook her head. “So long ago. A lifetime.”

  “Chris should be able to see a picture of his dad whenever he wants to. I’ll have it copied so that you’ll have a photo of the three of you, but I’d like to keep this one.”

  “Why, now that the search is over?”

  “Because I’m afraid I’ve lost you again.”

  Anna discovered her grandson’s endearing charm. He was bright. Intuitive. All boy.

  Being with him made her want to stop time in its tracks, but she was anxious to get back to Long Beach and consult with Art Litton, her lawyer.

  She walked hand in hand with Christopher, back to the edge of the bluff where his mother waited beside Jake Montgomery. Seeing the couple together, the man’s arm draped over Carly’s shoulder, infuriated her. She didn’t need to be reminded that the P.I. had known of Christopher’s whereabouts and had kept her in the dark for weeks. The fact that he’d been Rick’s friend made it even worse.

  Carly was obviously very upset and failing dismally at hiding her feelings. Anna tried to convince herself that she didn’t care. Carly Nolan’s hurt would never make up for all the years she’d suffered the loss of both Rick and his son.

  Jake must have sensed that she wanted to speak to Carly alone for he immediately distracted Christopher and the two of them wandered over to where a vendor was selling popcorn from an old-fashioned wagon.

  She watched through a mist of tears. “He’s a wonderful boy. So much like his father.” She spoke aloud, without thinking.

  “Thank you.”

  Anna had meant it as an observation, not a compliment, but she let Carly’s response go and focused on the tense, vulnerable young woman beside her as an awkward silence lengthened.

  Distracted, Anna listened as Jake laughed at something Christopher had said.

  “Will you withdraw the petition?”

  It was a moment before Anna realized Carly had actually said something to her. She shifted her purse to her other hand.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I asked if you’ll withdraw the petition for guardianship now that you’ve met Christopher and you’ve seen for yourself how well he’s doing.”

  Anna’s gaze darted back to Christopher. He was tugging on Jake’s hand, leading the big man over to a drinking fountain, chattering all the way.

  His room was ready and waiting for him in Long Beach. The court date was all set. How could she back out now when they were so close?

  It was a second before she realized that there was no they anymore. Charles was gone. He’d pushed Arthur to go see the girl in the desert, to offer her money for the baby. He was the one who had thought having custody of Rick’s son was for the best.

  Charles had taken care of everything, given her everything. She owed him so very, very much.

  The hospital room was cool and quiet. Always so cold that Anna never went inside without a heavy sweater. She’d been there for weeks, sitting beside Charles’ bed, making certain he was comfortable, pestering the nurses to come in more often, seeing that the doctor stopped by every morning and evening, even though there was no hope.

  There were monitors and wires, tubes and rolling equipment crowded around the bed in the private room. It wasn’t a bad room. The walls were even papered, not like the old days when everything was white and industrial. But the floors were still cold and hard and the air pungent with an antiseptic smell that never quite masked the sour scent of urine and feces. Death lurked in the corners, patrolled the hallway.

  She hated every minute of her time there, hated that Charles had to be confined, wired, tubed, barely able to speak. He’d been in and out of a coma for days now. The nurses had assured her that it wouldn’t be long.

  As much as she hated to say good-bye, even one more second was too long to see him suffer.

  The morphine drip was nearly empty. The heart monitor slow but steady. Anna was half asleep when she heard him whisper her name. She opened her eyes to find Charles watching her from the hollows of what had once been the most handsome face in the world.

  “Not . . . not long now,” he rasped. “You have to promise . . . me . . .”

  She left the chair, took his bony hand and held it as tight as she dared, leaned close so that she could hear every word.

  “What, darling? What do you want?”

  “Promise.”

  “Anything.”

  “Promise you . . . won’t give up. That . . . you . . . find the boy. Christopher. Bring him . . . ’ome. Please, Anna.”

  She had no idea where he found the strength. He’d been out of his head before, but tonight his eyes were clear, as if even the drug could not keep him from begging her to make the promise.

  “For . . . Rick.” He slowly smiled, and she wondered if what she’d heard of death was true. Was Rick there now? Was their son beside Charles, ready to accompany him to the other side?

  She glanced around the room as a chill passed through her, clinging to Charles’ hand, knowing there was no time left.

  “I promise, darling. I promise I’ll do everything I can to save Christopher. To bring him home.”

  Satisfied, Charles quieted again, smiled into her eyes before he closed his own and let go a heavy, rattling sigh.

  The monitor shrilled when his heart stopped beating. Two businesslike nurses came bustling in. One checked the monitors, felt for Charles’ pulse.

  He was gone, but the promise had been made.

  If only he’
d give Anna some sign, tell her what to do now. He’d always taken care of everything. Given her everything.

  Nothing was the way they’d imagined. Christopher was six years old now. The girl, Carly, was a strong young woman, obviously not wealthy, but keeping her head above water and raising Christopher right, as far as Anna could tell.

  She was tempted to call Art Litton when she got home, but she knew he’d only parrot Charles’ wishes and remind her of how foolish she’d been to come to Twilight on her own.

  But it wasn’t Art who would have an active six-year-old on his hands when this was all over. He wouldn’t spend a second worrying about the possible consequences of what they were doing to Christopher.

  Anna realized Carly Nolan was still waiting for an answer.

  Just then Christopher called out, “Hey, Mom! Grandma! Look at me!”

  She looked over in time to see him turn a crooked somersault and come up laughing. Jake bent down to brush grass cuttings off Chris’ shirt.

  Anna clutched her purse tighter and shook her head. Her heart was pounding like an out-of-control jackhammer.

  Bring him . . . home. Please, Anna.

  There was so much to consider. Carly was so different than she had imagined. Christopher so loving, so beautiful.

  She put her hand over her heart, afraid it would seize up and stop beating altogether. The wind was battering her hair into a lopsided haystack, the sun no doubt damaging her skin.

  She had to get home, to think this through.

  She needed time. She took a deep breath, refused to cower or look away from Carly.

  “Will I withdraw the petition? Actually, now that I’ve seen Christopher, I . . . I want to be with him more than ever.”

  36

  CARLY WAS RUNNING ON ADRENALINE FUELED BY FEAR WHEN she stopped by the Potters’ to pick up Matt, then drove both boys home.

  They weren’t back five minutes before Etta knocked at the door. Not even the sight of Etta’s apple-dumpling shape covered in lemon-yellow spandex and a gypsy-black Cleopatra wig lightened Carly’s mood.

  Etta cradled a casserole dish against her sagging breasts.

  “I made extra spaghetti and meatballs because I noticed you weren’t home all day, not that I was spying, mind you, but I thought you might be hungry.”

  Carly didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

  “Thanks, Etta.” She reached for the covered Pyrex dish. “It smells great. Chris and Matt will love it.”

  It didn’t look like Etta was going anywhere fast as she lingered on the porch with Napoleon sniffing around her feet. Beauty whined and nosed against the screen.

  “Is everything all right?” Etta was perfectly aware that things weren’t all right. She’d gotten to know Carly’s moods when they lived together.

  “About the same.” There was no going into detail with Chris in the house. Worry lines replaced Etta’s smile.

  Just then the phone rang, saving further explanation. “I’d better get that,” Carly said.

  “You go right ahead, honey.”

  “I’ll walk over tomorrow after work, and we’ll catch up, Etta. All right?”

  Etta smoothed her hand over the ebony nylon wig. “I’ll make some muffins and put the coffee on.”

  Carly carried the casserole dish into the kitchen and caught the phone on the fourth ring.

  It was Jake.

  “Anna’s gone.”

  Carly cradled the phone, turned her back on the living room, and lowered her voice.

  “Next time I see her, it will be in court.”

  “Carly, don’t.”

  “Don’t what? Don’t be defensive? Don’t get mad? I’m through cowering, Jake. I’ve got to look out for myself and my son now.”

  “She may change her mind.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “I have to.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t call here anymore, Jake.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  She wished she didn’t, but as long as he was around, touching her, offering her a shoulder to lean on, she’d only be reminded of how he’d made a fool of her, how he’d broken her heart.

  “Let me take you and Chris and Matt out for dinner.”

  “No, Jake.”

  “I can bring you a pizza.”

  “Please, no.”

  “Carly—”

  “Bye, Jake.”

  She hung up, stared down at the portable phone in her hand. It rang again. She let it ring five times, pushed the talk button, heard Jake say her name and hung up again. He called three more times before giving up.

  It’s over.

  She knew better than to kid herself. What she felt for him wasn’t going to go away overnight, despite everything he’d done.

  She closed her eyes, remembered the taste of his lips, the strength and gentleness of his touch. Making love with him had been so much more than she ever dreamed. . . .

  Stop it.

  One night. One night was all they’d shared. She tried to convince herself that what they had was no different than a one-night stand, but failed miserably. She’d put her heart on the block. There had only been two men in her life, Rick and Jake.

  Best friends.

  She walked into her studio. Too jumpy to concentrate, she called Geoff. He drove into San Luis nearly every Monday morning to shop, so she asked him to pick up an inexpensive answering machine if he went in tomorrow.

  “Congratulations!” He laughed.

  “What for? What’s so funny?” If he’d known what the last few hours had been like for her, he wouldn’t be laughing.

  “For joining the twenty-first century. Hang on one sec, I’m ringing up a sale.”

  She listened to Geoff as he spoke softly and politely to a customer.

  “Guess what?” he said a minute later.

  “What?”

  “Someone put down a deposit on Weathering the Storm.”

  He’d priced it higher than any other of her paintings. The news would have made her ecstatic a month ago.

  “That’s nice.”

  “I hate to say it, but you sound like hell. What’s going on now?”

  “To make a long story short, Jake talked Anna Saunders into coming to town, and then he persuaded me to meet her. I let her meet Chris.”

  “I take it she didn’t change her mind.”

  “No. Now she’s more determined than ever to have Chris.” She had to press her lips together to keep them from trembling.

  “What was Jake thinking?”

  “He was trying to force a happy ending.” Her heart was so heavy that simply breathing was an effort. “He doesn’t know that they don’t exist.”

  “Of course they do. When you stop believing in happy endings, you’ll be in real trouble.”

  “I am in real trouble.” She began to pace from the kitchen to the living room and back. “I don’t want to talk to Jake, which is why I need the answering machine.”

  “I’ve never heard you sound this angry before.”

  “No? I’ve never felt like this before. I’m so mad I could spit nickels.”

  He laughed. “I haven’t heard that in years.”

  “Will you pick one up for me?”

  “Of course. And it’s on me. Call it a contribution to the legal aid fund.”

  “Absolutely not. I’m not exactly a charity case yet.”

  “You know this isn’t going to stop him, don’t you?”

  “Who? Jake?” She massaged her temple.

  “Yes. Jake. I have a feeling he’s not going to let a little thing like an answering machine keep him from talking to you. Listen, Carly, I’m here for you, you know that. You need to keep your spirits up, and don’t let this ruin everything that’s good in your life.”

  She looked out the huge front windows. Long afternoon shadows stretched across the quiet street out front. Spring was finally here and the weather was warming up. It was odd, she thought, how life went on even though she was caug
ht up in a vortex of pain.

  “Don’t make me cry, Geoff.”

  “I can’t help but worry about you.”

  “I’m through falling apart. I refuse to lose Chris.”

  “What about Jake?”

  “What about him?”

  “From everything you’ve told me, I still can’t help but think he’s on your side, whether you want to believe it or not.”

  She tensed. “Has he spoken to you?”

  “No. But it sounds like he tried to help you work things out with Mrs. Saunders. It’s not his fault that it backfired. He must feel like shit.”

  She’d been so upset she hadn’t given much thought to what Jake might or might not be feeling. She tried to tell herself she didn’t care.

  Those last few moments at the park had been a nightmare. Anna had calmly called Chris over and told him that she was going back to Long Beach.

  He asked her to stay, to go home with them, but Anna had hugged him tight and though choked with tears, had told him not to worry, that she promised she would see him soon.

  Carly had taken Christopher’s hand and walked away from Jake and Anna with barely a good-bye.

  He must feel like shit.

  She pictured Geoff sitting on a bar stool behind the counter at the gallery.

  “I can’t help the way Jake feels. He brought this on himself the day he chose to pretend he was just another tourist.” She held the phone so tight her hand started to cramp.

  “Remind me never to get on your bad side, would you? I’ll bring the answering machine over as soon as I get back. Let me know when you hear anything new from Tom Edwards. Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “And Carly?”

  “What?”

  “Try visualizing that happy ending.”

  She hung up.

  Geoff was big on visualization. He liked to light candles, play New Age music—Native American flutes and singing whales—but the only thing Carly could visualize right now was the determined look on Anna Saunders’ face when Chris hugged her good-bye.

  She set the phone down and stared around the living room. No one was going to take her son from her. Nor was she about to stand around feeling helpless. Not anymore.

  There was nothing here she couldn’t leave behind except a photo of Chris in his T-ball outfit. She picked it up, looked in on the boys, who were playing with Matt’s Game Boy, and carried the photo down the hall to her room.