Third Strike's the Charm

by Nicci Carrera

  “Okay.” Cara was nervous about leaving, but Francie wasn’t a child. Dang, since her hospitalization, it was hard to resist thinking of Francie as an invalid. My goodness, what a trap. In a large institution, how could they really treat each person as a vital human being instead of as a “condition?” Then again, having multiple shifts offered the advantage of fresh caregivers. She’d never thought of it before, but the place in Bar Harbor where Sherry stayed improved upon at-home care in some ways. The setting provided a social aspect, and with shift work, the caregivers might not get impatient or tired. With individual attention and a prime directive to maintain dignity, a group setting could be superior to at-home care. In fairness, Harbor Manor had those things, but something was missing.

  “I’ll change your sheets while you’re bathing.”

  “You’re my bestie. Isn’t that what you say nowadays?”

  Cara laughed. “That’s right.”

  She headed back to Francie’s room where sunlight filtered through the giant maple tree outside and dappled the wood floor with gold. Dusty sat in the sphinx pose on the blue-and-white comforter, his eyes closed. Fresh roses and other flowers from Francie’s friends perfumed the air.

  “Hey, Dusty.”

  The big cat opened his green eyes halfway and yawned, showing all his sharp white teeth. It was so funny how all the humans in a cat’s orbit could be going through major life events and trauma, and the creature could remain totally relaxed. Cats had it made.

  She tugged the comforter. “Okay, Dusty, time to go bye-bye.” He shot her a hostile glare and jumped off the bed, landing with a solid thud. He stalked off, paw over paw, tail up straight with the tip curved like a question mark. The communication pulled a laugh from Cara.

  After stripping the bed, she refreshed the water in the vases. A moment later, Dusty reappeared in the doorway and meowed.

  “Oh, now you love me again, eh?” she teased, before letting him lead her down the hall. She stopped in the laundry room, which was attached to the second bathroom, and dumped the sheets in the washer. She didn’t take the time to start the load, hurrying to the kitchen to feed the kitty.

  “Need help?” Jason was at the dining room table reading something on his smart phone.

  “Oh.” She stopped herself from saying, I forgot you were here, which would not be the most flattering and sensitive statement!

  “Is that a yes or a no?” Jason had such clear green eyes.

  “Um, yes, actually. Will you feed Dusty?”

  “What?” Those same green eyes went wide with indignation.

  Cara stifled a giggle.

  Jason took an exaggerated look at his phone. “He’s not due for four hours.”

  “Four hours? That’s cruel. Dusty needs an afternoon snack.”

  Jason snorted. “No way. You better not.”

  Ten minutes must be up by now. “Well, you’re in luck,” Cara said to Jason. Then to Dusty, she said, “And you’re out of luck. I have to go.” She scurried down the hall and opened the bathroom door. A rush of lavender-scented fog enveloped her. “You okay in here, France?” Cara stared at the closed curtain with a prick of concern.

  “Better than okay,” Francie chirped. “This beats sex.”

  Cara snorted. “Francie…Sheesh, it’s like a steam room in here.”

  “All that’s missing is some male company.”

  Cara giggled.

  The water stopped. Cara handed Francie a towel and then hung up the handheld showerhead. After wrapping Francie in a robe, Cara dried her hair. Back to the bedroom where Cara closed the door and helped Francie dress. She pushed Francie down the hall, through the kitchen, and into the living room. Jason assisted his mom into her easy chair.

  Cara stepped away, filled with a profound feeling of satisfaction. Then it hit her—bone-deep fatigue. “Okay, you two. I’m going home to get some rest. I’ll see you both later. You know where to find me if you need anything.” Cara trudged through the kitchen.

  “Jason, didn’t I teach you to escort a lady to the door?”

  Jason caught up to her. An awkward moment followed when she stood on the threshold, certain he was going to kiss her, as she figured was Francie’s intention. She lingered. If he kissed her now, she would kiss him back.

  His gaze traveled to her mouth, but his lips did not.

  When she walked down the ramp, his gaze warmed her shoulder blades.

  ****

  Mama was in the kitchen when Cara sagged through the front door. That’s right, it was Saturday. Funny how a stay in the hospital could make a person so confused about time. Looking back to the day at the Ward’s, Cara realized Francie, by insisting on taking a shower, dressing, and going back out to the living room, even though she was tired, was attempting to get herself back into the flow of normal life. To languish as an invalid any longer than necessary could start a downward spiral. This confirmed Cara’s instinct that living life as normally as possible was paramount for people with disabilities.

  Pilar looked up from prepping food at the counter. The concern in her warm brown eyes, and the comfort in the familiar lines of Mama’s face, were like a blanket Cara wanted to take hold of and press against her body, to bury her face into. But she was a grown up now. Cara forced herself to walk calmly, if a bit unnaturally, across the room.

  “How is Francie?” Mama asked, her hands frozen midair over their task.

  “Fine.” The simple word was all that was needed.

  “That’s good to hear,” Mama said.

  “Just what are you making here?” Cara moved closer. Of course they had a mixer, but Mama had hand whipped these egg whites into stiff peaks—far from an easy task!

  Mama’s gaze lowered, and she turned away. “I’m making an old family recipe for pudding.”

  “Pudding with egg whites?”

  Mama stood at the sink, with her back to Cara. “My mama learned it from her mama, who learned it from her mama. It’s called ‘worry pudding.’”

  A laugh burst from Cara. “I love it.”

  “Wait until you try it. You will feel all is right with the world.”

  Cara already felt that way, suddenly. She sat on a stool, propped her elbows on the counter, and inhaled the fragrance of melting chocolate.

  “You need to be careful how much time you spend at the Ward’s,” Mama said.

  Cara sat up straight. “You told me you thought it was good I was spending a lot of time with Francie.”

  “Yes. But you need to allow a bit of space between you and them. They need to find a long-term solution. Having Francie become too dependent upon you right before you’re about to leave is not a good idea.”

  Cara’s heart shrank from the thought of leaving Lobster Cove, Francie…and Jason. Plus Mama’s warning resonated with Jason’s concern that she was spoiling his mom and Francie would miss her all the more when she left.

  “Also, there needs to be some space between you and Jason.”

  Mama’s words were like the lick of a whip. Did Mama disapprove of him? Perhaps because of the many times he’d broken her heart? Cara thought she’d hidden her feelings from Mama. She cleared her throat. “What do you mean?”

  “If you’re on top of Jason all the time, how will he be able to court you properly?” Mama shot Cara a quick but penetrating look before turning back to her cooking.

  A rush of relief rode the heels of astonishment. “I…guess I’ll need to think about that, Mama.” Cara fought a smile as she excused herself and made her way to her room.

  Once she had stopped renting to tourists, Mama restored some of the mementos of their childhood to her and Blanca’s room. Cara found the soccer awards, framed photos of her high school and college graduations, her favorite teddy bear, candles, and high school yearbooks, oddly comforting. She closed the blinds, breathed in the slight vanilla fragrance that clung to the air, and climbed into bed. Despite it only being three o’clock in the afternoon, she drifted off to sleep, still pondering the strange i
dea of being “courted” by Jason.

  ****

  Cara awoke the next day to fragments of dreams in which Mama explained many, many things. She could only remember the comfort, not the words.

  A splash of cool water over her face helped clear the fog of too many hours of sleep. She patted her skin with a soft white washcloth, considering Mama’s advice. One thing was certain, she couldn’t just dump Francie and Jason after she’d been over there so much. Of course this fact alone told her there was some truth to what Mama said about the Wards getting too dependent upon her.

  After coffee and breakfast, she cut through the woods and knocked on their door. Marianne, the caregiver, answered. Cara didn’t think she usually came on Sundays because Jason wasn’t at work. Marianne informed her he was in the backyard, and Francie was taking a nap. Smells of cooking came from the kitchen. Cara passed through the house and stepped out the sliding glass door to the patio.

  She found Jason chopping firewood behind the garage. The sunlight deepened the ruddy tones of his skin, which was burnished from exertion. Trying to resist staring at his muscular arms and shoulders, she said hi and explained she had some stuff to do for school. She wouldn’t be around much this week. She asked if that would work out okay for them.

  Jason rested his weight on the ax and studied her with eyes narrowed in concentration. “Not a problem. I already asked the home-care agency to start sending someone every day to be with Mom while I’m at work.”

  “That’s expensive.”

  “That’s okay, the money I set aside for Mom is enough for that kind of thing.” He nodded slightly, as though affirming his words. His planning for his mom reassured her. He had taken better care of his mom than he had of himself, but of the two, Francie’s care was the more important.

  “It’s really good you did that, Jason.”

  He scowled, and picked up the ax. Had she offended him? Or just reminded him of the money he’d squandered? Did he take her words as criticism? She didn’t mean them that way. He’d fallen in the traps so many people fail to navigate when suddenly presented with what seemed like an endless amount of money.

  His grip on the ax telegraphed his need to swing out some of his frustrations. She left him to it, going inside for a short visit with Francie, then wandering home. The thought of not being needed by Francie, of not spending every minute of the summer with her, filled Cara with surprising desolation. She attributed her reaction to exhaustion.

  The plan to take the residents of the assisted living facility on an outing kept Cara going for the rest of the week. She mostly stayed away from the Wards, except for one visit when she and Francie hatched a scheme. On the appointed day, a Friday, Cara arrived at ten in the morning.

  Marianne was the caregiver on Friday mornings now and was in on the plan. She answered the door, smiled, and told Cara to stay put, returning a moment later with Francie, who was dressed up, a soft wave to her red hair, perfumed, and ready to go. The delicate floral fragrance was for Big Dirk. Cara’s heart squeezed.

  She helped Francie to her car, stowing the wheelchair in the trunk.

  “I have something to tell you,” Cara said, when they were underway.

  “Spill it!”

  Cara smiled at her spirit, obviously restored, and braced for her surprise. “I have a tattoo.”

  “Your first one? What took you so long?”

  A huff of surprise escaped. “You’re supposed to be shocked.”

  “Honey, I’ve had a tattoo since I was twenty.”

  The reflection in the mirror showed Cara’s mouth hanging open. “What? Are you kidding? How come you never told me?” She eased around a corner and joined the main road into town.

  “It never came up.”

  “What is it anyway?”

  “A butterfly.”

  “Aw. Where? I didn’t see it.”

  “You didn’t see all of me, did you? That’s for the privileged few to know.”

  Cara shook her head and turned down Birch Avenue. Best to avoid any streets where Jason might be out shopping for stuff for Love Caters All, but she had to travel a bit on Birch to get to Leo Gambini’s place on the quiet west side of Grant’s Lake. His home had a view across the water to the sporting fields and Lobster Cove high school. Seeing the fields evoked painful memories of the night she broke up with Jason the first time.

  Pushing those thoughts aside, Cara shifted Francie’s car into Park and did the same thing with the blast from the past. This summer was supposed to be a break from everything, a chance to recharge and have fun with Francie. Fortunately, just thinking about Leo Gambini made Cara smile. There was an urban myth, or maybe in the case of Lobster Cove, small-town Maine myth, that Leo Gambini was ex-Mafia. Leo tried to perpetuate this image, of course, pulling out some bad imitations of Marlon Brando, but Cara suspected he probably earned his money from owning a shoe store or something.

  His Lobster Cove home was a large clapboard house with a sweeping veranda overlooking the small manmade lake. As Cara was parking and getting Francie out of the car, the front door swung open and a hulking figure appeared. Big Dirk. With surprising agility for such a large man, he was down the steps and across the driveway before Cara finished retrieving the chair from the trunk.

  “Here, let me get that for you.” Big Dirk’s barrel chest added timbre to his deep voice.

  She stepped aside and let him take over, grabbing her purse and following them up to the house. Leo had a ramp installed beside the steps for Francie. They went inside where the guys were sitting around the poker table. Dirk pushed Francie into place at the table.

  “Sorry we’re late,” Cara said, confused as to why they were already starting.

  “You’re not,” Big Dirk said, looking like a giant in his seat next to Francie. “We’ve been here a while because we were planning a big poker game. I have some friends coming into town on a kayak trip and Leo let me invite them for a big party.”

  “Oh? When?”

  “A couple weeks.”

  Cara moved off to the kitchen. How would Leo manage a party? Leo didn’t cook. He had Velma Perkins from Sweet Bea’s Bakery who would shop for him for extra money, but he didn’t know how to cook. A long time ago Cara had given Velma a list of her own, so she could make stuff for the poker game. Fussing gave Cara something to do while they played.

  The atmosphere filled with the sounds of poker, laughter, silences, groans of defeat, and whoops of victory. Cara made “chickin” wings. She had made Leo get the vegetarian version of the favorite greasy poker food. He objected, but when he tasted them, he cleaned his plate and asked for more. They were greasy, spicy, and delicious, and better than the real thing. The men could all compliment themselves on being “healthy” and brag to their doctors.

  Cara kept the food and drinks coming, but there were breaks when they didn’t need anything. During one of these, she went out to the car to get her tablet. Her story to cover her absences to Jason hadn’t been an out-and-out lie. She was working on a new presentation for her final exam. She settled on the couch and went to work.

  “Cara?”

  She blinked and rubbed her eyes.

  Francie smiled down at her. “It’s time to go, honey.”

  She must have fallen asleep on the sofa. She stowed her tablet and followed Big Dirk and Francie out to the car. When she saw Dirk lingering by the open passenger door, Cara pretended to forget something and dashed back up the stairs. A glance over her shoulder told her she had judged correctly. Big Dirk, after settling Francie in the passenger seat, was leaning into the car. With a smile, Cara stepped back indoors.

  Leo glanced up and said, “Forget something, sugar?”

  “I thought I did, but I found it!” She patted her computer bag.

  Leo grunted and went back to the game. None of the others even bothered to look up. She shuffled back down the stairs and ambled to the car. By the time she arrived, Dirk was closing Francie’s door.

  Putting the car in gear
, Cara worked her way back onto the main roads before starting in on Francie. “So how far have you two taken things? Has Dirk seen your tattoo?”

  “I don’t kiss and tell,” Francie said.

  “You’re so discreet. Not.”

  Francie giggled.

  Cara decided, in this case, the best policy was not to press Francie for details. After all, she didn’t want to get sucked into having to reciprocate with stories of kisses with Jason. She sighed. Sometimes having your boyfriend’s mom as your best friend was complicated.

  Would she ever get to kiss Jason again? Mama’s words floated back to Cara, about the distance, about him courting her. What a concept. She and Jason had played together since they were eight when she started going over to the Ward’s house a lot. His dad was already gone by that time, had left when Jason was four years old. Francie let her come over every day. They shared cookies and milk offered after hours spent chasing each other through the woods. They walked to school together. As they grew bigger, he would protect her. Finally, they kissed behind the big pine tree. The kiss was awkward. Oh, but did he ever get better.

  They’d been boyfriend and girlfriend in high school, and everyone just assumed they’d get married. Would he really court her now? Such an old-fashioned word, and yet the idea pleased her.

  Marianne greeted her at the door and came out to help with Francie. Cara wanted to stay, but she disciplined herself to kiss Francie goodbye and then made her way home.

  Fortunately she had something to do because she was not used to sitting around the house waiting for a phone call. Was this how dating worked? Sure, she’d dated over the years, but not seriously. She never cared, frankly, whether or not the men called.

  It was Friday, which meant the gang was getting together. She would see Jason. Cara had contacted Sin Bennson and found out they would be meeting at Murphy’s. This week was the guys’ choice.

  She spent a couple hours working, had dinner with Mama and Blanca, and then prepared. She and Blanca took turns in the bathroom. Cara pulled on skinny jeans that required a lot of hopping, jumping, flopping on her back on the bed, and kicking her legs in the air.