by Brenda Novak
“Sounds good to me. Now that the stress is off, I’m starving.”
“You used to live in this city. Where should we go?”
“Beer & Salsa in Burbank. There’s always a wait, but you’ll never eat better shrimp fajitas.”
“Done,” he said, and followed her directions to the restaurant. They’d been together so much the past few days and were so happy in this moment it felt perfectly natural to be holding hands as they walked in.
* * *
“What are you doing up?” Eli asked.
Aiyana clicked away from her word processing program, where she’d been proofing some grant requests, and switched her phone to her other ear as she yawned. “You don’t live here anymore. How do you know I’m up?”
“I’m still on the same campus and can see that the light’s on in your bedroom.”
“Only if you’re looking for it.”
“I always check on you,” he admitted.
She smiled at his protectiveness. She was a lucky woman to have the happiness—and the people in her life—she had now. She’d never dreamed so many of her children would be able to overcome the tremendous odds that had been stacked against them, or that she’d end up with someone like Cal. Rarely did she feel worthy, which was why she’d waited so long to marry him. She was expecting life to get difficult again; it seemed it always did. But she’d been with Cal long enough that she was beginning to trust him and the bond they shared, which was why, she supposed, she’d finally given in on the matter of marriage. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Can’t sleep. What are you doing up?”
“Little Xander’s teething.”
At the mention of her newest grandson, only six months old, Aiyana felt some of the tension that had been troubling her tonight ease. She’d loved being a mother, but she’d taken on an incredibly difficult family—adopting eight boys who were victims of severe emotional, and sometimes even physical, trauma. Trying to help them heal and make sense of the world had required constant effort and a great deal of perseverance.
But being a grandmother wasn’t like that at all. Thanks to the men her sons had become—at least the older ones who were in that stage of life—and the women they’d married, they were providing a solid foundation for the next generation. She was excited to think she wouldn’t have to worry about her grandchildren the way she’d had to worry about her children.
“Is it the stress of the wedding that’s bothering you?” Eli asked.
“No. I’m fine with the wedding.”
“You’re not having second thoughts...”
“No.”
“Good, because if you were to back out now, it would break poor Cal’s heart.”
That was true. He loved her fiercely, and he let her know it. “I would never do anything to hurt him.”
“So if it’s not the wedding, what is it? A particular boy or girl at the school who isn’t doing well?”
“There’s always someone to worry about at the school.” Sadly, more than one. But that was the nature of her business, what she’d chosen to do.
“Is this a little closer to home, then? Is it Dallas?”
When she didn’t answer, she knew Eli would understand he’d guessed correctly.
“What’s going on with Dallas?” he asked. “He seems to be doing okay to me. The same, anyway.”
“I just keep thinking...” She got up and began pacing around her bedroom. “What would make someone want to scale dizzyingly high, steep rocks—mountains—with no safety gear? When one mistake would mean certain death?”
In the daytime, when they were both busy, Eli would probably have said something like, “He’s not the only one who does it. It’s a sport, and all sports can be dangerous. He’ll be okay.” Although she didn’t buy that, she understood he said those kinds of things to relieve his own worry—to refuse to face the reality of the situation.
But late at night like this, when the immediate pressures of work and family felt so far away, he was prone to be more open and honest. They had their best discussions in moments like these. “Maybe he puts himself in such dangerous situations to make him fear death and want to live.”
“Meaning he doesn’t feel that way naturally?”
“I’m just throwing out ideas.”
“The chances he takes make me feel as though my heart is caught in a blender, and any moment it could switch on. I keep waiting for the phone to ring with news that would devastate me, and I never realize that more than when he’s home and I’m not scared for him. That’s the only time I get a reprieve, the only time the fear retreats and I can breathe freely.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. That’s the last thing he’d ever want to make you feel.”
“I agree. The fact that he does it anyway suggests he has to do it. But why? How many times can one person cheat death?”
“You know he feels responsible for his sister’s murder, feels as though Jenny might’ve been able to get out of the house if she hadn’t tried to draw their father’s attention away from him so he could hide.”
“I do. But he was so young—”
“Doesn’t matter. He has to cope with a great deal of survivor’s guilt.”
She opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out the letter she’d received from Dallas’s father. “And I gave the man who killed her Dallas’s address,” she said with a sigh.
“What? You’ve heard from his father?”
She took the letter from its envelope and stared at the tiny, cramped printing—all of it in pencil. “He wrote me from prison, pleading for a way to contact Dallas. And I...”
“Felt sorry for him?” Eli asked incredulously.
“No, not that. I was hoping he’d say something to Dallas that would heal old wounds, something that might make it possible for Dallas to forgive himself for living instead of dying that day. I thought maybe then Dallas would quit rambling around, taking such foolish chances and denying himself the community and support of his friends and family.”
“I’m guessing it didn’t work out that way.”
“Dallas isn’t happy that I gave Robert his address. He’s received a letter from him, but he hasn’t opened it. Says he’s not sure he ever will.”
“Maybe that’s for the best,” Eli said. “Maybe what his father has to say will only make matters worse.”
“In the letter he sent me, Robert sounds sincerely sorry. But you could be right. I might’ve made a mistake.”
“You never know,” Eli said. “It’s possible that it’s a good thing this is coming up again.”
“In what way?”
“If Dallas has to face it and rethink it all as a man, he might come to better conclusions than he did as a child, might finally be able to get beyond it.”
“I hope so. It’s not as if he’s been willing to go to therapy—not since I took him to that one psychologist, Dr. Smith, who retired after a couple of years with him. Remember?”
“He told me a psychologist couldn’t change the facts.”
“He told me that, too,” she said, “but he seemed to do a lot better when he was working with Dr. Smith. The nightmares eased a bit. I know that much.”
“Maybe he’ll try therapy again one day. We can’t force him. Where is he now?”
“He took Emery to LA.”
“You don’t think there’s any chance of them getting together, do you?”
“I don’t know. At first I was hopeful, but if he won’t settle down, it will only drag her into the same morass of worry I’m in.”
“Maybe she’ll be able to fulfill him. Having Cora come into my life made a huge difference for me.”
“Yes,” she said, as though that made her more optimistic. But while Eli had been severely abused as a child, he hadn’t watched his father murder his mother and sister.
That made everyt
hing permanent.
11
It was probably completely natural for Emery to touch him so often. They were friends, they’d had a couple of drinks, and they were out forgetting about Ethan and having a good time. Dallas just wasn’t used to having a woman take his hand, grab his arm or spontaneously hug him—not unless she was also open to a sexual relationship. And, as a result, his mind kept shooting off in a completely different direction, one that was decidedly not platonic.
But he didn’t have a lot of female friends. He spent half the year climbing, surrounded almost entirely by men. Even during the winter, when he worked at the gym, he dealt with more men than he did women. His students had mothers, of course, but they were usually married or too old for him. And Emery was particularly attractive...
After a delicious Mexican dinner, where they’d talked and laughed for nearly two hours, they’d decided to leave his van at Beer & Salsa and take an Uber to Rodeo Drive. They’d both had one too many margaritas, so they weren’t ready to drive back to Silver Springs, and Emery wanted to see the Christmas decorations in this ritzy area. He suspected she also wanted to show him her city. It was obvious by the way she talked about living in LA that she loved it.
As they strode along, she slipped her arm through his, and he once again told himself it was no big deal. She didn’t mean anything by it. It had been much warmer before the sun went down, so warm they’d left their jackets behind, and now it was growing chilly—that was all. But the awareness he was beginning to feel, despite trying to ignore it, was getting so distracting he was having trouble focusing on what she said.
“What do you think?” she asked.
He didn’t have an answer. He’d missed every word except the last question. He’d been too busy imagining what it might be like to kiss the girl he’d been too afraid to ask out back in high school—even as he chastised himself for considering it.
“I...” He looked down into her expectant face and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry. I zoned out there for a second. What’d you say?”
She pulled her arm away. “It’s okay. Are you getting tired?” she asked as though she was suddenly worried she might be boring him. “We can go home, if you’re ready.”
“No. I’m not able to drive quite yet. I just...had something else on my mind. What was it you said?”
“I suggested we go to the beach. Have you ever been to the beach at night?”
“Not this late,” he replied.
“It’ll be dark, but the moonlight reflects off the water, and you can hear the surf crashing onto the shore. It’s quite an experience.”
Considering what he was feeling, the beach might be too isolated. But just knowing she wasn’t receptive to the kind of intimacy he was beginning to crave would keep him in line. He was still a little buzzed, so they needed to do something until he sobered up. “You won’t be too cold?”
“Not if we build a bonfire,” she said eagerly.
“I didn’t realize you could still do that.” He loved California as much as anyone, but it had to be the most overlegislated state in the union.
“Only on some beaches. But I happen to know which ones.” She grinned mischievously up at him. “Should we Uber there?”
She was obviously enjoying herself. She’d been so miserable lately that Dallas was glad to see her forget about the recent past for a while. Since he didn’t want to do anything to ruin her reprieve, he figured he might as well let her finish out the evening in whichever way she liked. “Okay. Why not?”
She pulled out her phone to request the rideshare. “I’m too full to eat anything else, but what do you say we stop by the liquor store on the way and buy a bottle of wine? We have to get firewood, anyway.”
Dallas felt his pulse pick up. This trip to the beach was beginning to sound very romantic. That made him uncomfortable, given that he was already struggling with a growing desire to touch her in a way that was decidedly beyond friendship. But she didn’t seem to be aware of that or think anything of putting them both in such an intimate situation.
It would be okay, he decided. She’d made it clear that she wasn’t in the market for another relationship, and that was a boundary he would never cross, especially with a woman who’d so recently been through what Emery had been through. “I won’t sober up if we continue to drink,” he pointed out, trying to nix the wine, at least.
More control was better than less, he thought. But she had her mind made up. “Then we’ll sleep on the beach,” she said as if it didn’t really matter one way or the other.
* * *
It was too hot to sit close to the fire, and it was too cold to sit far away from it. But if they stayed on the cheap blanket they’d purchased, right at the edge of the circle of light leaping and dancing on the sand, it was comfortable. Maybe a little too comfortable. Emery didn’t want to leave this place. She found it surprisingly cathartic. As a news anchor, she’d covered almost everything there was to do in the sprawling metropolis, was always looking for something new to report or a fresh angle she could use to highlight a place or activity people may have seen or done before. But she looked at the city, and this beach, with different eyes now that she didn’t have to package it for the viewers of KQLA’s morning show. She didn’t have to worry about creating an enticing hook, how best to present the information in the shortest amount of time or how to follow up with a highly engaging social media post so that she could extend her reach and continue building her career.
The pressure was off; she could simply sit and enjoy.
She had to admit, for the here and now—this moment in isolation from all others—it was nice not to have an agenda. Relaxing with Dallas while sipping merlot from a cheap plastic champagne flute and listening to the crack and spit of the fire above the powerful crash of waves not far away made her grateful just to be alive.
After the past month, it was wonderful to feel as though that was enough.
“This was worth the effort,” Dallas decreed, tipping his head back to gaze up at the sky.
He was wearing a contemplative expression as he studied the stars.
“You must see the sky without the intrusion of city lights all the time,” she said, “what with camping out so often.”
“I do.”
He didn’t elaborate, didn’t describe his life, but she was curious about it. What would it be like to face such formidable physical challenges on almost a daily basis? To look down and to know that a fall would be certain death? And what about the other aspects? To be totally indifferent to what most other people—people like Ethan—prized so highly? To not care about getting a more lucrative job, a bigger house, a nicer car or any other material object? Dallas seemed content to have only what he needed to get through each day. And it was clear he didn’t give a damn about impressing anyone, which was partly why he did impress her. He was free in a way few people were.
“You told me you mostly live on beans and greens. But you’re not a vegetarian, like Alex Honnold. I’ve seen you eat meat.”
“Occasionally. But from what I saw in that documentary about him, we have a similar approach to food.”
“In what way?” She remembered one scene that showed Alex whipping up a big pan of beans or something else on a camp-style stove and eating it right out of the pan. “As long as it’s healthy, you’re happy?” she guessed. “You’re not too picky?”
“Basically. During my climbing months, food is simply fuel.”
She poured him another glass of wine before wedging the bottle back into the sand. “Doesn’t it ever get lonely spending so much time by yourself?”
It took him a moment to answer. Then he said, “Sometimes. But climbing is worth it to me. The challenge keeps me engaged. Besides, I think everyone gets lonely once in a while.”
“I didn’t while I was working,” she mused. “Or I was too busy to notice. But I’ve certainl
y felt alone since Ethan did what he did. Worse than alone. For the first time in my life, I’ve felt hated and reviled. That’s been hard. Everyone wants to be liked, and I’m betting that’s especially true for someone like me—the type of personality who would aspire to become a TV anchor.”
“Probably,” he agreed.
Emery was doing most of the talking, but she couldn’t seem to stop. She was happy for the first time in a long while. But the alcohol seemed to be having the opposite effect on Dallas. He seemed happy enough, or possibly he was merely content, but he was growing more and more reserved. “Anyway, enough about Ethan,” she said, assuming he had to be tired of that topic. “I don’t know why I brought him up again.” She lifted her wine. “This is delicious, by the way. You said coming here was worth it, but you have to admit that bringing the wine was a great idea, too.”
He held up his glass to clink it against hers. “I readily admit it.”
Closing her eyes, she focused on the caress of the wind against her cheeks. “Right now I feel pretty damn invincible,” she said. “Don’t you?”
“I’m not sure invincible is the word I’d use,” he said wryly.
Opening her eyes, she pulled the hair whipping around her face out of the way. “Why not?”
A small smile tugged at his lips before he twisted around to stare down the beach. “Never mind.”
“What are you looking for?” she asked, distracted as she followed his gaze into the darkness. The only things she could see were the whitecaps of the foamy waves, and the far-off light of a ship at sea.
“It’s hard to believe that with four million people in LA, we can be this alone,” he said.
They hadn’t encountered anyone after they were dropped off, while they were building their bonfire or spreading out the blanket—no voices, no lights, no movement, other than the constant thunder of the waves and a few sand crabs that scurried to get out of their way. “It is,” she said. “It seems like we’re the only two people on Earth. And here we are, sitting at the edge of the greatest ocean, breathing in the salty sea air. It’s gotten chilly, but it’s worth the cold. I love the ocean.”
