Collision Course

by C. P. Rowlands

  “I know. The kids told me. Jenna has the most vivid imagination. She said you hit the woman in the moon. That woman must look like that little picture that hangs on Jenna’s bedroom wall?”

  Jordan nodded. “I suppose she does.” They shared a rare laugh. Jordan bent to see the book her mother held. It was a current mystery, one that she’d just finished, and she looked up, surprised one more time.

  “I didn’t know you read,” she blurted out before she thought.

  “Of course I read. I’ve read all my life.”

  Jordan bit her tongue. “I’m sorry,” she said and left for her own part of the house, feeling foolish. She should have known the kids would have said something about the accident, something she and Uncle John hadn’t thought of.

  She took a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator, grabbed a package of frozen peas, and settled down into the dark kitchen. Holding the peas against her eye, she watched the big full moon hanging over the lake and thought about her mother.

  She pulled a pad of paper from the desk in the kitchen and rummaged for a pen. The frozen peas melted on the table while she did a quick sketch of Brie O’Malley by the bright light of the moon. On her way to the shower, she tossed the paper and pen on her bed. Something about her body.

  She downed two aspirin, then checked the kids one last time. Finally, she crawled in under the covers, braced herself against the headboard, and did one last sketch of Brie. Pen poised over the paper, she saw it.That place, just above the belly button, down across the hips, top of the legs. That’s it. She laid the pad of paper by Pete’s photo, glanced at the picture, then reached for it. Jenna really did look like her father. She rubbed her thumb on the frame. Their marriage had a rough beginning but they’d managed to become more than sexual partners. They’d become lovers and friends before Pete had died. She missed the friendship. She missed him.

  “Maybe it’s time for a friend,” she said to the photo. In the last five years, after Pete had been killed, she’d let her friends go, one by one, until it was only herself and the kids. Disgusted and disappointed in herself, she hadn’t wanted anyone around. Until tonight. Jordan replayed the dinner in her mind. Brie had listened so carefully to everything they’d talked about, as if she was searching for something. At the same time, she’d seemed a little off balance, almost as if she was unused to smiling and laughing. When Jordan asked her to go out and eat again, Brie had looked surprised, almost hopeful.

  Jordan rolled to her side, looking out the window at the oak tree and the moon hanging behind it like a lantern. Brie’s thick and tousled blond hair had fascinated her, curling back around her ears, long in the front, falling across her forehead. Jenna was right. Brie did look like the woman in the painting that hung on her wall. The woman was wearing a simple little top and skirt, much like Brie had worn today, and her hair was bright like the moon. Brie had unusual pale blue eyes, but something was wrong with them. They looked sad or old. A woman like that had to be married, but she hadn’t mentioned a husband. Maybe a recent breakup? Or a divorce? She’d worn a ring.

  The scene at the park had been so confusing when they’d crashed. The sister had said Brie lived across the street and she’d immediately turned to the English cottage, the house she’d looked at often when she had the kids out there. The one-story house she’d been looking at when she crashed into Brie. It had a faux-thatched roof with tall windows, and the prettiest yard. When they’d driven into Brie’s driveway tonight, she’d caught her breath at the coincidence. She’d always wanted to see the inside of that house, and it was all she could do to keep from asking for a tour right at that moment.

  Jordan sank further into the comfortable bed. Something about Brie made her feel like helping her. Just before she fell asleep she knew one thing for certain. She was going to have to feed Brie, a lot. She was too thin.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning, Brie shoved her chair back from her desk and closed two of the three books she’d been working out of. Three years ago, before she and Niki were shot, she had published an academic position paper that said America was sinking into a highly unstable political climate after 9/11, paralleling the shocked years after the Civil War. Afterward, mired in the trauma of recovery for almost a year, she couldn’t have told anyone what the initial reaction had been to her paper. However, last winter, a respected professor from the East Coast had written a direct challenge to her work and, for the first time, her foggy mind stuttered alive as she read his publication. She would defend her position but had more work to do. “A lot more work,” she said, rubbing her eyes, “and I think I need glasses.” She dialed Dr. Mary Kramer, her first lover and her best friend’s older sister.

  About sixty minutes later, she was waiting for Mary at the Inlet, an upscale restaurant frequented by Milwaukee’s business and professional people, known for its good food, good drinks, and casual liaisons. She braced herself for their usual confrontation. Mary, Nora, and Brie had known each other since before grade school, and Mary never let them forget that she was two years older. They had an odd argumentative relationship but, despite their history, Brie wouldn’t want anyone else for this. She looked at the menu with a wry thought. If Mary had taught her to kiss—and other things—she could certainly take care of her eyes.

  “Hey, blondie, what’s up?” a husky voice said behind her. Mary never simply walked into a restaurant, she always arrived, and Brie smiled inwardly. Mary eased into a chair across from her. Her white business suit draped her body with a casual elegance over a gray silk shirt that matched her eyes, the eyes that fixed Brie with a piercing stare right now. “My God, you’ve lost weight. What the hell, Brieanna, put some meat on those bones.”

  Brie sighed. “That’s why I’m here, eating.”

  Mary picked up the menu and ran her eyes over it quickly. She probably knew it by heart, Brie thought as Mary gestured impatiently at the waiter. “Have you made up your mind?”

  “Of course,” Brie said. The waiter was beside them in a heartbeat and Brie saw him look anxiously at Mary. Obviously, he had waited on her before.

  After he left, Mary leaned over. “He’s the slowest waiter here and I hate having to deal with him.” She took a drink and cruised the women in the restaurant over the rim of her glass before looking at Brie again. “What’s up?”

  “Promise you won’t laugh?”

  “You know me better than that,” Mary said with a knowing smile. Brie did know her, better than she was comfortable with.

  “I’m fairly certain I need glasses.”

  Mary’s husky laugh carried over the conversations and music in the restaurant. “Christ! I thought this was serious. We’ll finish and go back to the office. How old are you?”

  “Same as your sister, Nora. Thirty-nine this summer. This isn’t about vanity. I just don’t want to wear the damned things.”

  “You’re so freaking serious.” Mary laughed again, turning heads around them.

  “And you’re the same arrogant bu—” Mary’s large hand quickly covered her mouth before Brie could finish.

  “You can’t say that here. Some of my patients are sitting around us.”

  The waiter came and they were quiet while he nervously placed food on the table.

  “This afternoon? My eyes?” Brie said, daring Mary to take the offer back.

  Mary took a bite of her pasta with a suggestive smile. “I can do more than that.”

  Brie felt her face warm but kept her words even. “Stop it.” They stared at each other over their food and Mary was the first to drop her gaze.

  “All right. Other than losing way too much weight, how are you?”

  “I’m surviving, still volunteering at Omni, and I like it. Classes begin next week and I’m actually looking forward to it. I have to defend my last paper soon and I’m chugging along. In the grand scheme of things, I’m breathing.” She took another bite of her BLT, glad to be hungry enough to eat. She glanced at Mary. There was kindness in the normally p
redatory eyes. “The most exciting thing that’s happened was getting hit in the park by a skateboarder.”

  “What?”

  “It was my fault. I stepped into her path.”

  “A teenager?”

  “No, a full-grown woman.” Brie almost added good-looking and then irrationally remembered her dream last night.

  “Sometimes I forget who I’m talking to, Brie.”

  “I’ve known you for over thirty-five years.”

  Mary looked up with mild surprise. “It’s been that long?”

  Mary ate for a moment, her eyes distant. “I remember you hanging out in the library in high school. You had the best figure.”

  “Me and about twenty others.”

  Mary gave Brie a warning look, pushed her empty plate to the side, and stood. “Then you won’t mind if I make a trip to the ladies’ room.” She grinned and Brie wondered what lucky woman she had spotted in the restaurant. Watching Mary leave through the noisy crowd, she was shaken by a gut-wrenching memory. She gripped her glass of iced tea. It was one of Mary’s bathroom breaks that had led her to Niki.

  Sixteen years ago, Brie had been home for her dad’s funeral and had stopped in the restaurant for a quick meal and a moment alone. Mary had simply wandered in, sat with her, and talked. Devastated and wounded by the loss of her father, Brie had fallen into Mary’s arms, taking up where they had left off four years earlier. Mary had been gentle and understanding for several nights, taking Brie to her bed, but then she disappeared. Finally, on the day Brie was to go back to college, they had met here, at the Inlet. Brie had been so shaky emotionally that anything Mary did made her giddy. She’d been checking her airline ticket, talking about her master’s program and summer plans. Their summer plans.

  Mary had not said much and excused herself to go to the restroom. Brie waited, checking out the restaurant. A woman at the bar with beautiful dark curly hair caught her eye and smiled. Immediately fascinated by the lovely hair and smile, Brie stared at her, then looked away, flustered. Was she flirting? A few minutes passed, then more minutes. No Mary. Brie restlessly looked around the restaurant. It was the usual crowd of under-forty-year-olds, drinking hard, laughing loudly. Still, her gaze would always come back to the pretty young woman who continued to look right at her with that intriguing smile. Finally, she had thrown her napkin on the table and walked toward the women’s bathroom.

  The young woman then did something no one had ever done to her, before or since. She did a slow three-sixty as Brie walked toward her. Her yellow spring dress, flared at the waist, ended just above the knees with yellow heels to match. It was a perfectly symmetrical body. The scalloped V-top ended just above the waist with a glimpse of breasts. Distracted, Brie had almost walked right into her. The slender, toned athletic muscles had her full attention.

  “Hi,” Niki said in a soft voice, her hands on Brie’s hips to balance her. Apologizing, Brie had introduced herself and started to move around her.

  “Wait with me? She’ll be out in a minute, I’m sure.” Niki said, putting a light arm around Brie, moving her toward an empty bar stool. Suddenly Brie had understood that Mary was meeting someone else in the bathroom.

  Niki had laid her fingers lightly across her arm while Brie waited on the stool next to her, completely embarrassed.

  Finally, Brie spoke. “You must know her?”

  “Only too well, I’m afraid,” Niki answered. Brie could still remember the look in those brown eyes. Not an inch of pity but a lot of understanding. Those eyes had given her courage.

  “I have a while before my plane leaves. Why don’t you come with me, drive along the lake?” The interesting eyes with thick eyelashes had lit up with a silent cheer and Brie swore later that was the exact moment Niki Willis had stolen her heart. She had paid for the entire meal and walked out the door with Niki. They had driven up Lake Drive and talked for over an hour before she dropped Niki back at her car. Later, she had flown back to school with a smile on her face and Niki’s information in her purse. Now, in the same restaurant, sixteen years later, Brie looked over at the bar and the empty bar stool. Mary had given her Niki and the best years of her life.

  She was still smiling as Mary examined her eyes.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you?” Mary growled and Brie almost laughed out loud but didn’t answer.

  She did indeed need glasses, and she picked out frames with Mary hovering about her, trying to choose for her.

  “You said just for reading. Who cares what they look like?”

  “It’s important, Brie. You never know who’s looking.”

  “Oh, I think I do,” Brie said, looking over the selection. “No one.”

  That night, sitting at her computer, Brie slipped the letters from Niki’s foundation back into the folder. She had set up an appointment with Thomas Teller at Smith & Teller. As general counsel, Thomas handled the distribution of the foundation’s multiyear pledges. Niki’s father and grandfather had been well-known architects, and they’d begun the Willis Foundation in the forties. When Grant Willis had died, Niki had taken her father’s place on the foundation board under Thomas Teller’s guidance.

  The last five years had been spent on the new athletic center close to Lake Michigan. The dedication was only several weeks away at the annual softball awards banquet. It was the first project of Niki’s that Brie had worked on, and Dannie Brown, Niki’s best friend, was doing a piece for the ceremony. Brie picked up the phone and left Dannie a message to call her when she could. She left her therapist a message as well. The therapist had asked her to check in when she had dreams like she’d had last night. She tossed her pen onto her desk and picked up the two envelopes lying off to the side. Maybe it was time to sell the house and move. Two West Coast universities had invited her to teach next year. She looked around her office, then closed her eyes. Should she leave their home? Could she?

  Her stomach clenched as the familiar questions ground through her brain. Niki. Did it hurt when they shot you? Did you see me get shot? Were you ever awake…conscious…in the hospital when I wasn’t?

  Brie took a deep breath and rubbed her temples. This was a constant battle she endured. Her mind loved to taunt her and she wiped her wet eyes. She simply could not remember anything beyond a certain point that day. Anything. And she’d give anything to remember.

  Jordan Carter’s business card was propped against the wooden pelican that always sat on her desk, a little thing Niki had bought for her while they were vacationing one summer. She stared at it for a minute, then turned back to the photos of the Willis Athletic Center on her computer. She had helped decorate the main arena and gym, trying to keep Niki’s ideas in place. It included a large playroom for children. She and Thomas had enjoyed picking out toys and playground equipment. What would Jordan’s children think of the equipment, she wondered. Maybe she should call Jordan and ask if they’d care to give it a test run?

  She picked up Jordan’s card, rubbing the embossed surface with her thumb. Staring out at the September dusk, she thought of that unexpected flash of sensual heat in Jordan’s eyes.

  Chapter Seven

  Jordan whistled, cleaning her kitchen. It had been a good morning. It was fun, being off work, even if she had to pay for it with a black eye. She had fixed the kids chocolate chip pancakes this morning and was sure it was the equivalent of fourteen Twinkies. She grinned, remembering her teaching days. She was certain both kids would bounce off the walls in their classrooms. Usually the children caught the bus in front of the house, but this morning she had driven them. Tyler joked with her about her black eye but Jenna had fussed over it. Jordan had held her on her lap before they’d left and let her touch the eye. Once she could see that her mother was fine, Jenna had gone on to other things. Jordan was still pondering their different reactions. Was it their different personalities? Age? Gender?

  She changed her clothes and sat at the kitchen table over a fresh cup of coffee and the paper. “Oh, a new gallery, downtown,�
�� she said and saw a familiar name, a local woodcarver she knew. “I’ll go and see what he’s up to.” They both belonged to the same Milwaukee artists’ group.

  She gathered her briefcase and the sketches she’d done of Brie and went to the studio.

  Sunlight caught the remaining dew on the grass, throwing shards of light into the air. “It still smells like summer,” she said as she walked across her yard and entered the dark silence of the studio. Waiting for her eyes to adjust, she felt the rush this room always gave her.

  The row of sketches above her workbench caught her attention. They’d been done in an anatomy class she’d taken. Then she’d searched for the wood that she’d been interested in. She and Pete had brought it in together, then sat there and looked at the drawings together. The next day, she’d begun the carving. Jordan hung the three new sketches of Brie and sank back onto a high stool. Seven years? Was that possible? Jenna wasn’t even born yet. She turned and looked at the unfinished piece in the middle of the room.

  “Let’s get some light in here,” she said to the quiet. She opened the windows, then the shades on the skylights. Blue light and cool air rushed inside. She walked around the unfinished piece, a carving as tall as herself. What’s happened to me? I understand that everything stopped when Pete was killed, but shouldn’t some inspiration be creeping back? At least a little knock on the door?

  Jordan walked back to the sketches again. Most of them were faces or quick impressions of what her vision had been. Brie was the first she’d added in years. She concentrated and searched her mind one more time. At first, nothing. Then she looked back at the new sketches. Suddenly she saw Brie, moving toward her from the hospital doors. The graceful economy of her body. It was just a flash as it passed her mind. She blinked. “Yes,” she said.

  Jordan reached for her briefcase and left, shutting the door firmly behind her. She’d stop at the construction site on the way downtown.