Another ripple of laughter from his friends. Then there were a few seconds of heavy silence. Sam stood and lifted his glass of soda, toasting Jack with it. “Thanks for your service, man,” he said.
Glasses of water and soda and cups of coffee rose all around the table, and everyone toasted Jack.
The discussion turned to critiques of the Wild Men’s performance. Sarah let the conversation flow around her. Then she spotted Vinny Caruso and Margaret Brogan in a dark corner of the restaurant. She had to lean forward to be sure she was seeing correctly. Neither looked particularly happy, but they weren’t shouting at each other, either.
Sarah gave a tiny gasp and put a hand to her heart at the possibility they might be working out their problem.
Jack leaned toward her. “What?” he asked. “Something wrong?”
She turned to him, looking right into his eyes. “No. Something’s right. That’s Vinny and Margaret.” Realizing he wouldn’t know what she was talking about, she began to explain, “See, Vinny’s...”
“Yeah, I know all about it,” he said, smiling. “Vinny and Margaret don’t like each other. She wouldn’t date him sixty years ago or something.” He scanned the room. “Ah. That must be them. Little guy and Mrs. Brogan. I’ll be... They’ve stopped fighting?”
“How do you know about Vinny and Margaret and their long-standing dislike?” she asked in surprise.
“Ben told me,” Jack replied.
“How did that ever come up?”
“Ah...” He thought back. “As I recall, he was grumbling that you shared with him that you were worried about them.” He grinned and added, rather eagerly, she thought, “And you talked about it a lot.”
She frowned across the table at Ben, who looked at her in innocent bemusement. Unwilling to shout at him over the noise of their loud companions, she turned back to Jack. “I thought he was interested.”
“I’m sure he was,” Jack conceded, stroking her arm gently. “He just missed my being there for you to talk to.”
“Hmm.” She wasn’t entirely appeased, but when Ben looked at her worriedly over Trina’s head and mouthed, “What?” she smiled and waved dismissively to wipe away any suggestion of a problem.
The bill paid, everyone scraped chairs back and stood. The women hugged, the men shook hands, and with promises to meet for next week’s rehearsal, the families left first. Trina was reclaimed by her father, who thanked Ben for watching her.
Ben slapped Mario’s shoulder. “My pleasure. Take care.” He turned to Sarah and said, “I’m taking Sam and Rico back to the church where they left their cars. I’m sorry, but you’ve got Jack again.”
“Some friend you are,” Sarah returned.
“Hey!” Jack complained.
* * *
SARAH DROVE HOME in silence, clearly preoccupied. At home, Jack thanked her for the ride, said good-night and headed up the walk to the carriage house. There was a definite bite in the air. It was spitting rain and he thought wryly that it was time to prepare for the wet late fall and early winter. Every Oregon resident complained about it, but after the heat of Afghanistan, he’d never complain again.
Tonight had been a good evening all in all, he thought as he pulled off his jacket. His moment of soul baring had been only a little uncomfortable, but he hadn’t wanted Margie to feel badly about having brought up the subject. He was sure their friends wondered what on earth was going on at the Palmers’ with him and Ben and Sarah sharing space.
He wandered through the small rooms, wondering what project he should attack tomorrow. The bathroom was almost complete, except for some paint touch-up and ordering the mirror—provided his mother wanted it. He was a little surprised she hadn’t gotten back to him. Maybe he should try hanging the bedroom curtains himself. He started in that direction when a knock on his door made him turn. He flipped on the outside light and opened the door to find Sarah standing there, a phone in her hand.
“It’s your mom,” she said quietly, handing him the phone. “One of the things you should do is add an extension phone back here. Or keep your cell phone charged. Good night.”
“Hey, Mom.” Jack watched Sarah walk away, wishing he was going with her, then turned back into the carriage house and focused on his mother’s voice. “Did you like the mirror?”
“I did, but I called to tell you I’ve found a mirror,” she said, her voice lively despite the hour. “And we’re bringing it home with us. We found this wonderful place in Sedona with antique fixtures and hardware. The mirror is from an old theater dressing room. It’s large and square and just what a writer needs to look at himself and determine where the heck the story’s going.”
“Great. So, second week in December?”
“No, we’re on our way home right now.”
He wondered whether or not to be worried. They loved their Arizona winters. “Anything wrong? You both feeling okay?”
“We’re fine,” she assured him. “It’s just that the weather’s been awful, a lot of our old friends didn’t make it this year for one reason or another and we’re feeling out of it. So we’re coming home early. We’re taking our time, though, so if you’ve been messy, don’t panic. It’ll be four or five days before we arrive. How’s Sarah doing?”
“Ah...good. She’s working on a fund-raiser for the seniors’ community.”
“She told me a little bit about it when she was walking the phone out to you.” His mother’s cheerful voice became concerned. “Why are you working out there so late? It isn’t healthy to overdo. Especially if you’re having trouble sleeping.” There was a momentary pause. “Are you still having nightmares?”
“No,” he lied. Well, he hadn’t had one since he’d been staying in the carriage house. If he told her that, though, she’d want to know why, and he was sure the romantic triangle going on in her home would upset her. “I’m feeling great. Carriage house is almost done and I’m going to be helping the seniors with the new building—providing the seniors get it.”
“It’s not a sure thing?”
“There’s a lawyer who wants it, too. Ken somebody.”
“Oh.” Her voice expressed disapproval. “Forman. I know of him. He’s a divorce lawyer. Left Elaine Parsons with nothing to show for thirty-five years of marriage but an old car.”
“Hopefully, the fund-raiser will give the seniors the edge. You and Dad want to do a duet?” he teased. His father was notorious for a singing voice that sounded like a wounded walrus.
“Ha, ha. But you could get us tickets. Sarah said the Wild Men are performing. How did she get you to volunteer?”
“She yelled at me.”
“Hmm. That never worked for me. Well, good night, Jack. Tell Ben we said hi. See you next week. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Great. He could explain his living in the carriage house to his parents by telling them he’d worked long hours and it was just simpler to be here.
And by the time they got home, the carriage house would be finished—except for the bathroom mirror—so he’d have no reason to live in it. Except that when his parents were home, they’d have to move Sarah out of their room and into his, so he’d have to stay in the carriage house.
Okay, that worked. But how was he going to explain to them that he now loved Sarah?
CHAPTER TEN
JACK DREAMED THAT his adoptive parents were on the turret instead of Curry, and they seemed to be free of injury. Helen held up a mirror to Jack’s face. His reflection looked hollow under all his combat gear, and over his right shoulder, he saw his natural mother coming down the road.
He was afraid to turn and look, but he knew he had to. She was coming and they had to duke it out. It seemed required.
There she was in the white garment that billowed in the breeze. Again, he held his weapon, wanting
to fire but unable to move even his trigger finger. He watched her climb up, reach for him and try to take his weapon. She held tightly to it as he shoved her away, screaming his name in a way that tore at his heart. She went flying into the air. But this time she flew and flew until she disappeared.
He woke up into darkness, gasping for breath, shouting for her. The word “Mom!” reverberated around him, the sound tortured and filled with the deep loneliness of his childhood.
He sat there until his breath evened out and his heartbeat steadied. Then he got up, went to the refrigerator for orange juice and sank onto the stool.
So, obviously, his adoptive parents coming home wasn’t going to be good for his nightmares. So much for the carriage house protecting him from them. Or the absence of Sarah freeing his subconscious. Not that he’d ever really believed that.
He finished the juice and went to bed. No person or place was going to protect him from the knots in his past he had to untangle.
* * *
SARAH SORTED THROUGH the few pieces of mail addressed to her that were in the mailbox last night. Looking through them this morning as she walked down the stairs, she noticed an envelope from her insurance company.
She stopped halfway down to open it and gasped delightedly at the check that was enclosed. Though she hadn’t had all that many possessions, or much of serious value, her insurance had paid for everything, including a new set of tires for the Jeep, which Ben had had towed to Mario’s auto repair shop the day of the fire. This meant she could find a new place to live. Though the sound of Jack’s and Ben’s voices coming from the kitchen made her realize that leaving here would be hard. In fact, she hated the thought. And she still had an agreement with Helen to prepare meals for the brothers.
Tucking the check into her shoulder bag, she continued down the stairs, greeting her housemates as though nothing in their lives was different.
* * *
“YOU’RE GOING TO have to move back into the house,” Ben said to Jack as he filled a thermal mug with coffee. Whenever Ben was upset he became super cop, assuming control of the world. “If Mom and Dad think we’re not getting along...well, you know how Mom gets.”
Jack did. She’d take it all personally, blame herself for allowing Jack to feel excluded. Or Ben to feel overlooked. She’d make herself crazy trying to restore balance.
“You’re right,” Jack said, “but unless you want to get bunk beds for your room, that isn’t going to happen. Only three bedrooms, remember? Mom and Dad, you, Sarah.”
Sarah opened her mouth, presumably to offer to find somewhere else to live, but he and Ben shouted her down simultaneously. “No!”
“It’s logical that I’d be in the carriage house. I work twelve, sometimes sixteen hours a day. Sleeping there makes sense.” He gave Ben a level look. “Just try to get along with everyone and they won’t suspect there’s any problem.”
“But it doesn’t make sense you’re staying there,” Ben challenged. “The heat’s not working in there yet. And it’s mid-October.”
“It hasn’t bothered me.”
“So you’re cold-blooded?” Ben turned to Sarah, his tall, covered mug held loosely in his fingers. “Is that what you want in a husband?”
Sarah, having packed fruit and muffins into her food carrier, zipped it closed and shook her head at him. “Come on, Ben. Don’t do that.”
Ben bounced a dark glance off Jack and walked out the door with his coffee.
Sarah carried her bag to the door. “How’s the search for your sisters coming?” she asked Jack, indicating the computer on the table in front of him.
“At a standstill for the moment,” he replied. “I just can’t seem to pick up a lead on Corie or Cassidy. I found an obituary for a Miguel Ochoa—but Corie’s name wasn’t among the family mentioned.”
“Maybe they were estranged for some reason.”
“Yeah. Ben told me to check the TombStones.com website where anyone who loved or cared about the deceased can mount a sort of memorial, leave a message. He says the police use it sometimes because it shows where the message originated.”
“And?” She smoothed the nubby red sweater she’d borrowed from his mother’s closet.
“Nothing. The only message was from someone named Isabel, who was mentioned in the obituary. He probably remarried and had more children.”
Sarah straightened, stopped fussing abruptly and met his eyes with a smile.
“What?” he asked.
“You said Corie—or Corazon—is her middle name.”
“Yeah.”
“What’s her first name again?”
“Elizabeth.”
Her smile broadened.
“What?” he demanded again.
“Isabel is the Spanish version of Elizabeth,” she explained. “When my sister was looking for baby names, I helped her go through hundreds. I remember Isabel because of Bella from the Twilight series. That name was so popular that there must be two million little girls with it these days.”
He looked stunned. “So...I’ve found her?”
“Maybe you have.” She pointed to his computer. “Go to work on it. I have to leave. Good luck, Jack.” She paused in the doorway to say, “I hope it’s her.”
* * *
SARAH THOUGHT THE whole world’s prevailing mood was grumpy. At least it was in Beggar’s Bay. Vinny was exceptionally quiet while she made his breakfast, Margaret said the fruit was delicious but the muffins a little dry, and Jasper was simply feeling blue.
“It’s okay,” he said when she tried to cheer him up with the current status of the fund-raiser and failed. “It just happens sometimes, then I get over it.”
She sat on the footstool of the chair he occupied and touched his hand. “I’m sorry. You make it look so easy, but blindness is an awful reality day after day, isn’t it? I mean, particularly since you were sighted once and know what you’re missing.”
“It is,” he admitted, “but everyone has their burdens. I know I’m luckier than most. I just have to indulge myself in self-pity once in a while and get it out of my way.” He squeezed her hand. “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll be fine. Go on to your meeting.”
Sarah left him sipping coffee and listening to Whitman’s poem.
She should try to talk to Ben sometime today to make it clear to him that their romantic relationship was over. She loved his brother, not that anything could come of it with their thoughts of having children poles apart.
How had she ever gotten into such a tangle?
* * *
HER STRESS LEVEL went up even higher when she arrived a little late to the meeting and found it chaotic. “The lawyer’s talking to a furnace repairman and picking out lighting.” Carol Winston worked for Senior Services and was the seniors’ fiercest advocate. “My daughter works at Beggar’s Bay Lumber and overheard him with Pete Daley, the owner.”
“Maybe the lawyer’s just thinking positive,” someone from around the table said. “The mayor insists the city council is still undecided.”
“Pete Daley,” Carol added, “is one of the councilmen holding out for the other side. I’m sure he stands to make a considerable amount if Forman wins and buys his remodeling supplies from him. I hear he plans to go big.”
“I hope we make enough in this fund-raiser to compete with the lawyer.”
Someone else snickered. “How would we ever make enough to outbid a lawyer?”
“We won’t,” Carol replied. “The money from the fund-raiser will help us show that the community cares about us, but we’re going to have to count on a vote in favor of us from the city council.”
“What if we fail?”
“Then we find another building and start again.”
“But this one’s perfect. It’s right downtown. It has an elevator, a wo
rking kitchen and a view of the ocean from the second floor.”
Carol nodded. “So let’s think about success rather than failure. So far, the council’s evenly divided. We just have to move one member to our side. Everybody think hard. Meanwhile, let’s have committee reports.”
A considerable number of tickets had been sold already, several donations had been made, Clancy’s Catering was offering refreshments free of charge and the high school was providing ushers, decorating the auditorium for the event, as well as staging a dramatic scene as part of the competition.
“We owe the kids big,” Carol said. “How is sign-up going for participation, Sarah?”
Sarah reported eighteen acts registered, many of them already in rehearsal and looking good. “Do you think that’s enough?” she asked. “Should they go on before or after Cooper’s performance?”
Pros and cons were discussed and it was finally decided that Cooper should be introduced and allowed to speak, that the talent show should follow—and eighteen performers was a good number to prevent the evening from going on forever.
Marcie Thurgood, whose family had been friends with the Coopers and still kept in touch, knew Bobby Jay Cooper and had convinced him to help the show. She preened a little in the spotlight. “He’s going to sing a song to welcome everyone,” she said, her manner suggesting they’d had an intimate conversation about it, “then do the judging.” She smiled and added, “Then he’ll do four or five numbers afterward. We have to be sure to advertise that. And that everyone in the audience gets his latest CD.”
There was applause from her fellow committee members. The uncertain mood lifted. Sarah caught a little of their excitement as they all packed up to leave.
She crossed the street to the Cooper Building and found the downstairs open as the maintenance crew worked. She went in quietly, needing the sturdy, welcoming aspect of the building to reignite her excitement over the project. At the moment, her own issues—the Palmer brothers, her lack of possessions, her unhappy clients and her own seemingly ineffectual handling of all of them was dampening her enthusiasm for everything. She had her insurance check, but it meant only that she had no excuse to stay at the Palmer home once Helen and Gary returned. That was depressing, too.
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