“I’m happy to ask.”
“Thank you. I’m looking into land deeds tomorrow. And voter rolls. That might be my best bet for tracking down other adults who lived at this address. I’m hopeful.”
“Good. I’ll keep asking around. See if any of the other old-timers know more.”
“That’s really sweet, Gabriel. Thank you.”
“It’s no trouble.”
She closed her eyes and breathed in the turpentine scent of the billions of evergreen needles waving on the wind above them. They shushed and shook hundreds of feet into the sky.
She wondered if her mother had ever slept out in the open here, with no walls to keep out the world. With no roof but the back of the man above her as they made love.
Hannah should probably hate her own mother for being some sort of betraying jezebel, but the truth was that she loved the idea. And she shouldn’t love it. She knew that.
It must have hurt Dorothy Smith terribly. It must have hurt her father too, to be torn between two women. To have betrayed his wife.
Being a love child wasn’t something Hannah should be proud of, so she’d pretend she wasn’t.
“I should go,” Gabriel said, and for a moment she wondered whether he should. It wouldn’t take long to clear the mess off her bed, and then she could lose herself in another body for a night, the way she’d done throughout her twenties and well into her thirties. She wasn’t too old for it. She still felt restless and alive and solid. Hell, she still felt twenty-five and just starting her real life.
But she wasn’t. She was on the downhill slope now. Descending into wisdom.
The lie made her smile, and she opened her eyes to watch Gabriel rise to his feet. He set the wineglass on the wide wooden arm of his chair.
She stirred and leaned forward, but stopped when he held up a hand. “Don’t get up. You look way too relaxed to move.”
“What if you get lost on your way out of here?”
He grinned, his eyes sparkling in the faint light. “Then you might wake up to find me sleeping on your front step.”
“I could take you to breakfast, get the rumor mill talking.” She tipped her head. “Are there a lot of rumors about you?”
“Not much talk in the past few years. I’m old and boring.” The sexy rumble of his voice belied the words. She imagined that sexy voice in her ear in the dark and was shot through with sudden arousal.
She stood and stepped into his space. He didn’t back away, so she eased closer, slipped her hands inside his jacket and around the heat of his waist. When she tipped her chin up, he kissed her. A soft brush of lips. The faintest pressure. Another kiss. Another. Until she parted her lips for him and he gently settled in.
Mm. He tasted nice and felt even better.
His kisses promised slow finesse, but she suspected he was old enough to know when it shouldn’t be sweet anymore. There was kissing and then there was sex, and she suspected he’d be as good at one as the other.
She hooked a finger into a belt loop of his jeans and tugged him closer, and he groaned a little as she opened her mouth for a deeper kiss.
He was a stranger and she didn’t care. A stranger was what she needed. Someone totally new. Someone she’d never see again after this week.
His hand curved over her hip, just holding her, not taking anything more. His palm felt hot against the little gap between her jeans and her shirt. She wanted to feel that heat everywhere, shaping her body, discovering all her curves and angles.
She hadn’t had a man in . . . Damn. Damn.
Hannah suddenly remembered the laptop on her bed. The email that might be waiting. The almost-ex-husband she was asking for help. The only man she’d slept with in the past nine years.
Gabriel must have sensed the change in her mindset. He lifted his head. Held still.
She didn’t want to open her eyes. She really didn’t. She just wanted to tug him down and hope he could drive all her problems away. It would work for a few minutes. Maybe a few hours.
“We’re a little old for this,” she whispered.
“You want to let the kids have all the fun?”
Accepting that she was going to make a responsible choice for once, she forced her eyes open and found him watching her closely. His mouth tipped up into a pained, lopsided smile.
She laughed. “Don’t look at me like that! I was seriously thinking about it.”
“I thought you might be. That’s why I’m looking at you like this.”
She tucked her head and laughed against his shoulder. “You’re definitely a good kisser, Mr. Cabrillo.”
“Well, shit. If I haven’t at least gotten good at kissing in forty-eight years, I should hang up my spurs.”
“Spurs?” she squealed, laughing harder as he shook his head.
“Just an expression.”
“I would hope so! I think.” He pressed a quick kiss to her neck that made her shiver and pull away. “No going near my neck. I won’t be able to think.”
He let her go easily, but his smile promised more fun anytime she wanted it. “That’s valuable information.”
“I hope you’ll use it for good and not evil.”
“A lot of good. Promise.”
“Can I come by tomorrow?” she asked, instead of just saying screw it and leading him inside.
“Absolutely. I’m looking forward to it. Sleep tight.”
He rounded the cabin instead of going through her room, and she listened to the soft scuff of his boots fade into the dark before she dropped into her chair.
It was nice to think he would’ve stayed if she’d asked. Nice to know she’d be here for little longer and she’d have the chance to reconsider. And it was nice to just lounge here and pretend she didn’t need to go inside and check her email.
The fire cracked and popped. A puff of wind sent a tail of smoke toward her for a brief moment, and she held her breath and let it whisper over her, marking her with its scent. Tiny flakes of ash coated her jeans. The trees still shushed above her.
This place was beautiful. Peaceful. It was a fantasyland, and her father had lost himself for a few months or years. Real life had awaited him in Iowa just as it did Hannah, but God, she wanted to lose herself here too.
She closed her eyes on the idea of it and listened to the flames eat hundreds of years of wood away in minutes. The last of that chopped tree rose up into the sky and soared away.
CHAPTER 12
She could have taken Gabriel to bed after all. There’d been no email from Jeff. No intrusion of real life into her hideaway. So Hannah had somewhat grumpily shoved her mess to one side of the mattress, stripped naked, and fallen into bed.
When she woke, she was thankful for the isolation of the cabin, because she was sprawled nude across the sheets with all the curtains wide open. Hopefully Mr. Creepy Old Man hadn’t been around to fix any broken screens this morning.
Despite her initial chagrin, she didn’t jump up to cover herself. Once she’d looked around to be sure she wasn’t entertaining the neighbors, Hannah stretched hard and relaxed back into the bed. The sun slanted through leaves and dappled her body with shifting light as if she were floating underwater.
She slid her hand onto her stomach and spread her fingers wide. Her skin was soft. Her blood warm. She liked the way her pulse thumped against her palm. Proof of life.
She was here. Real and solid, even without a career and a husband and a home. Even if she ran from everything, she was really still here.
Stretching hard again, she reached up and pressed her fingers to the cool wood of the headboard, sucked in her stomach, felt her nipples tighten in the cold. She was kind of happy she hadn’t asked Gabriel to stay. And really happy she wasn’t in Chicago with Jeff.
When she got up, the heated floors warmed her feet as she padded to the bathroom to shower the smokiness from her hair.
She knew it must be chilly outside, but in here it felt warm and perfect. A little womb. She stood under the spray for a lon
g time, letting the water shape her body, the waves of liquid like hands that wanted nothing in return. She felt more at ease here than she had anywhere else in the past year. Was this the sense of homecoming she’d been searching for? Maybe the land had finally recognized her and taken her in.
Once the hot water ran out, Hannah wrapped herself up in a fluffy robe and climbed back into the bed to check her email.
He’d written back.
She stared at the Re: Hi. for a long time without clicking it. Right now everything was peaceful and lovely and there was the possibility that Jeff would be kind. Right now he might express worry and maybe even love for her. But once she clicked it, that possibility would cease to exist.
“Schrödinger’s ex-husband,” she murmured.
Breath trapped in her throat, she opened the email. It only took a few seconds to read.
Is this why you called the other night? A genealogical search seems like a strange reason to get in touch when you’ve asked me not to contact you.
Damn. That was it. No sympathy. No understanding. Probably because she hadn’t been willing to ask for it. She’d left out the truth about her mother for fear Jeff would respond to her bruises with more blows.
Still, they’d been married for years. Shouldn’t he have picked up on her vulnerability?
“No,” she muttered to herself. “You’re an idiot.”
Emotional clairvoyance was what she’d always hoped for. That he’d see past her walls and armor and understand the fear underneath.
He’d admired her toughness at first, and she’d waited and waited for him to discover her truths. But he wasn’t a superhero. He couldn’t see past walls. And she hadn’t been willing to take his hand and show him the places where she hurt, so eventually she’d just floated away, adrift on her own invulnerability.
Story of her life. At least now she could see that it was her and not the men she’d chosen.
Well. Not some of them.
She wasn’t sure when it had started, her separateness. Had she been born with it, or had she learned it growing up? Certainly Midwesterners were great at keeping their emotions locked down tight. It was almost explicitly encouraged. But more than that, her family had been bewildered by Hannah’s needs and feelings.
Her sisters had rarely argued with their parents, and they’d never rebelled, even as teenagers. Only Hannah had caused trouble, pushing boundaries and asking for more, more, more. More answers and respect and freedom. She’d fought back hard against rules and restrictions and refused to go to church. She’d run off, walked away, skipped obligations.
She’d caused chaos, and when they’d resented her for it, she’d hidden her feelings of rejection behind more defiance. It felt like only her father had ever truly forgiven her for the years of tension. He’d accepted her in his quiet, steady way, and she’d needed him more than she’d ever admitted to anyone.
Now she knew why he’d felt like such a solid link compared to her mother.
Finding another firm connection, another parent, felt worth the risk, so Hannah set her teeth and girded her loins and typed out an honest reply to Jeff, hating every sincere, unguarded word she wrote.
By the time she’d dried her hair and dressed, it was nine and she was starving. She tugged on her leather jacket, the smell of wood smoke puffing over her as she slipped her arms in. The leather was warm from lying on the heated floor, and she was thrilled to take a little of the room’s comfort with her as she grabbed her purse and stepped outside.
The sun was out somewhere in the east, but the coastal haze filtered its rays to a dull glow that didn’t add any heat to the air. Despite the chill, she felt silly ducking into her car for the drive to the inn, but she planned to head straight to Salinas from breakfast. Her car rocked and bounced down the path, and she watched for any sign of the handyman as she drove. He didn’t appear.
When she walked into the inn, the smell of bacon made her stomach twist with hunger. There’d be no noble refusal to eat Tucker’s food today. Today she’d devour it.
Two couples were at the table. The same middle-aged pair she’d seen yesterday, along with a gay couple who looked to be in their late twenties and were already dressed in hiking gear. Was she the only person who’d ever come to this place alone? It was beginning to feel like it. But screw that. She didn’t need someone else to help start a fire or to enjoy it with. Gabriel had been an admittedly nice addition, but she’d been smart enough to send him home and watch the fire die on her own.
“Morning!” Tucker called as he bustled in with a fresh pot of coffee. He held it up in question, and Hannah nodded thankfully as she slipped into an empty seat. “We’ve got maple bacon and French toast. Fresh fruit.”
“That all sounds perfect, thank you.”
He seemed genuinely pleased with her answer and headed straight back to the kitchen after pouring her coffee. Feeling much more clearheaded than she had the day before, Hannah chatted idly with the other guests about the anticipated weather for today. “Afternoon sun,” the other woman said, “though that’s the promise every day.”
The two young men, both bearded and muscled, were a little more serious and quickly got back to plotting out a hike on an honest-to-goodness paper map. They were heading up into the hills as soon as they left. When Tucker popped out of the kitchen with a large white sack, they stood and gathered their things.
“Two roast beef sandwiches,” Tucker said, “some fruit and cheese. You’ve got water bottles?”
“We’re covered,” one of the men said.
“Enjoy your lunch!”
Maybe she’d come back and do Big Sur right one day. Hiking. Beachcombing. A leisurely lunch overlooking a mountain view. But this time she’d settle for French toast.
When Tucker brought it out, she slathered on butter and real maple syrup, thinking how cruel it was that stress didn’t burn as many calories as it felt it should. In a just world, she’d be able to eat like an Olympic swimmer during weeks like this. She certainly felt as if she were swimming through miles of water.
She shoveled an oversize bite into her mouth and enjoyed every second it took to chew it. Then she bit off half a slice of bacon and let the salt flood her tongue. The world felt vivid for the first time in a long while. It felt right.
The other couple finally decided which part of the coast they’d drive to today, and Hannah waved a goodbye as she chewed another thick bacon slice. It was only after she’d finished her French toast and dutifully started on the sliced melon that she remembered she was here for more than breakfast.
She wiped her hands and sipped the last of her coffee just as Tucker returned. “Find any juicy details yesterday?” he asked.
“Not much yet. But I wanted to ask you about an employee. The white-haired guy?”
“Joe?”
“I think so. He’s the handyman? Groundskeeper?”
“Bit of both.”
“Has he been around Big Sur for a while?”
“I’m not sure how long. He doesn’t talk much.”
“I thought maybe I could ask him a few questions. If he’s a native, he might remember my family.”
Tucker shrugged. “Sure.”
“Is he around?”
“He usually is, but I don’t see him often, to be honest. Checks in in the morning and gets straight to work. Moves fast for an old guy. I’ll let him know you’d like to chat.”
“Thanks.” She wanted to ask his last name, just out of curiosity, but that felt like something she shouldn’t ask about a man’s employee. And if his name wasn’t Smith, it wouldn’t mean anything to her anyway. Still, she could see if he’d ever been a suspect in a string of motel murders.
But labeling him creepy wasn’t fair. If the man had been hanging around the cabins, the best explanation was because he worked here. “I’m driving up to Salinas, but I’ll be back this afternoon.”
“Drive safe,” he said with a wink that was nothing like the winks Gabriel gave. This one was bli
the and promised nothing more than another cup of coffee.
A few minutes later, Hannah was pulling onto the highway and craning her neck to see if she could spot Gabriel’s apartment behind the roadhouse. As with most potential sights in this part of Big Sur, her view was blocked by trees.
She drove up the coast, easing around curves and white-knuckling past cyclists while praying she didn’t spot an RV coming before she could edge back over. The sun emerged with a suddenness that surprised her, and the ocean was instantly a glinting sea of jewels, all the grays blasted away in the light.
She passed the sandy beach just visible at the bottom of that steep cliff and kept going this time until the wilderness ended with an abruptness that startled her. If there was some natural dividing line between habitable and inhabitable, she couldn’t see it, but one minute the land was wild and the next there were houses climbing the hills again.
After only two days in Big Sur, it felt strange to be back in traffic, caught at a stop sign next to a huge grocery store. Like stepping from the past into the present. Her phone dinged and buzzed, stirring to life after its slumber. She ignored the dozen notifications that popped onto the screen and continued on.
It felt great to use her amazing parallel-parking skills once she’d found a spot on the narrow streets of the town. And the place was beautiful, bursting with all types of flowers she’d never seen before. Nothing that would grow in Chicago. And nothing that people had even seen in Coswell. Hell, she was tempted to take a picture of the lime tree she’d parked next to, but she refused to be that obviously Midwestern.
“Fruit grows on trees,” she muttered to herself. “You know that.” But she still found citrus trees kind of magical.
Despite that she’d spent years manipulating accounts and creating paper trails, she’d never done any footwork, so she wasn’t sure what to expect as she walked into the county offices. Would they be suspicious about her requests? Would she fill out forms and then sit waiting for hours? Would they glare at her and tell her to come back between two and three next Friday?
Half Past: A Novel Page 14
