He put his cheek to hers and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Lynda sat very still, her heart in her throat, her mind examining his words as if they were glowing rocks from another planet.
Brian leaned back and looked into her eyes. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that for a long time, but I didn’t expect it would be here and now. It just came out.”
“Why are you sorry? What did you do?”
He swallowed and blinked sudden moisture from his eyes. “I didn’t run fast enough. I should have gotten to you sooner.”
His pain lay between them like an offering. She cupped his cheek with her hand. “It isn’t that you didn’t run fast enough—it’s that I ran too fast. I’m so lucky that you were there to save me. What if you’d been in the house? Or out on the boat? No one, not one single person, made a move to come after me, Brian. Only you.” Slowly, deliberately, she kissed him again. “You’re my hero.”
Catherine left the book she’d been reading on the sofa and got up to answer the telephone. Her greeting was answered with, “You know that old saying, a friend in need is a friend indeed?”
“Karol?”
“I’m amazed you recognized my voice. It’s been ages since we last talked.”
“You must have forgotten all the messages you left on the machine when Lynda was in the hospital. By the way, a very belated thank-you is in order. Knowing we were in your thoughts meant a lot.” She and Karol had been close friends for years and then drifted apart when Karol gave birth to triplets and Catherine started her job. They’d made and broken luncheon dates for a year before they finally gave up trying to get together. Hearing from her now brought a wave of good memories.
“I wish I could have done something to help but every time I asked, Tom insisted you wanted to handle everything by yourself.”
“He never told me he’d talked to you.”
“I kind of figured as much when I found out you weren’t together anymore and I never heard from you.”
“I’m so glad you called. It’s so good to hear from you.” Better than she could have imagined. “Now what’s this friend-in-need business?”
“Oh that—I foolishly let myself be talked into cochairing the Brand Name Rummage Sale this year.”
“And?” Catherine asked, already guessing the answer.
“I started thinking about all the fun we used to have all those years ago when we did the sale together and wondered if Lynda had reached a point in her recovery that she didn’t need you quite as much as she had and you were ready for a distraction and I might be able to talk you into cochairing with me.” She laughed. “Whew. Can you tell I’m a little nervous about dumping this on you?”
The proposal was so unexpected Catherine didn’t have an immediate answer. The years she and Karol had been in charge of the sale they’d taken it from a small charity function that benefited two local animal welfare groups to a half-million-dollar event that boasted contributions of items from the governor and half the legislators. Their stated goal was a completely no-kill county patterned after the animal shelter in San Francisco.
“Can you give me a couple of days to think about it?”
“I can give you a whole week if you need it.”
“I won’t. I just want to make sure I can work it out before I commit.”
“Please try. I’d really love to work with you again. We used to have such a good time and I miss seeing you.”
“I miss seeing you, too,” Catherine said.
“Even if you can’t be cochair, let’s get together. As soon as possible.”
“I’d like that.”
Catherine hung up and went back to her book, excited about the prospect of doing something she knew she was good at again.
Minutes later, the headlights from Brian’s car reflected through the glass front door, alerting her that Lynda was home. She put aside the book again, and waited, anxious to hear how Lynda’s evening had gone.
“I’m home,” Lynda called from the front door.
“In here,” Catherine called back from the family room.
For a second, as Brian’s headlights again swept through the room, Lynda’s body was backlit and almost seemed to glow. As she had since she was an infant, Catherine wondered at her daughter’s remarkable features and how they had combined to form such innocent beauty. There was nothing calculated or aloof about the way Lynda looked. When her eyes sparkled, they were filled with invitation to join in her happiness; when her full lips formed a smile, they invariably enticed a return smile; when she looked sad or forlorn, she broke the hearts of those around her.
“So, how did your date with Rick go?” Lynda asked, breaking the spell.
Catherine let out a long-suffering sigh. “It was not a date.”
“Okay, how did your non-date with Rick go?”
“It was all right.”
“Nothing with Rick is just all right. Come on, Mom. I want details.”
“He brought a bottle of wine. We ate on the deck. He helped with the dishes and he went home.”
Lynda groaned melodramatically as she plopped down on the opposite end of the sofa. “You made him do dishes?”
“No—I didn’t make him. He insisted.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Crazy relatives.”
Lynda let out another groan. “You didn’t tell him about Uncle John, did you? Please say you didn’t.”
Damn, she’d forgotten all about her mother’s brother and his spitting camel. She’d have won their crazy relative contest hands down with Uncle John. “You’re safe.”
Lynda looked at the ceiling. “Thank you, God.”
“How did it go at the hospital?”
The smile in Lynda’s eyes disappeared. She kicked off her shoes and put her feet on the coffee table. “Not good.”
All it took was a lost smile to remind Catherine that the ground she walked on with Lynda these past few months was filled with unexpected peaks and valleys and she never knew when she might stumble on one of them. “What happened?”
“Wendy freaked out when she saw Ray.”
“I was afraid that might happen.” She should have followed her, instincts and tried to talk Lynda out of taking Wendy to the hospital. Brian and Lynda had become blind to Ray’s appearance, seeing the person trapped inside the terribly burned body and forgetting how they, too, had reacted in the beginning. “Did he notice?”
“He didn’t say anything, but I don’t know how he could have missed it. He was looking right at us when we came in.” She drew her legs up, tucking them underneath her. “I felt so awful, Mom. I know it hurt him and I don’t know what to do to make it better.”
“Sometimes life just stinks.” Catherine said, putting her book aside. “And there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. As sad as it is, as unfair as it is, Ray is going to have to find a way to deal with all the good-intentioned people who are going to break his heart.”
“You mean me?”
“No, I mean people like Wendy.” Automatically accepting blame was something new with Lynda and it always caught Catherine by surprise. “She would never hurt anyone on purpose. And I’m sure if she visited Ray on a regular basis, the way you and Brian do, she would stop seeing what the fire did to him and start seeing the wonderful young man he is inside.”
“She doesn’t want to go back,” Lynda said, a catch in her voice. “Not ever. She won’t even give him a chance.”
Catherine only had Band-Aid words for her daughter, and it would be an insult to use them on a wound this deep.
Lynda reached for a tissue. She blew her nose and looked at her mother with a corner of her mouth lifted in a sad, ironic smile. “Well, at least there’s one good thing that came out of all this. At least, I think it’s good.”
“And that is?”
“It’s pretty hard for me to feel sorry for myself when I’m around Ray.” She pulled off her Roseville Fire Department cap and ran her hand over the downy stubbl
e that covered her scalp.
“I’m so proud of you,” Catherine said.
“Because I feel sorry for Ray?”
“Because you care.”
“Well, I guess if we’re going to get all sloppy and sentimental tonight I suppose I should go ahead and tell you how much I love you and how glad I am that you’re my mother.”
“Thank you—that’s nice to hear.” She would tuck Lynda’s words away and keep them to savor during the weeks ahead. School was less than a month away and Catherine had a feeling Ray wouldn’t be the only one who needed unconditional and non-judgmental support. When Lynda needed to vent, Catherine had no doubt who she would vent to.
She stood and held out her hand. “Come on. It’s time for one of my incredible backrubs.”
Lynda followed Catherine upstairs. “I forgot to tell you that Grandma called. She wanted to know if we’d made plans for your birthday.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That I wasn’t sure, but you might have a date.”
“What?”
“Well, I thought you might let it slip that it was coming up and Rick would ask you to go to dinner with him. I checked his calendar and he has the day off.”
Catherine stopped on the landing, turned, and glared at Lynda. “Did you listen to one thing I said about this matchmaking of yours? Rick and I are friends. That’s it. End of story. If you keep trying to make something out of it that it’s not, you’re going to ruin the friendship. And that would make me very unhappy.”
“Wow, chill out, Mom. I’ll call Grandma tomorrow and tell her we’ll be there for dinner.”
Catherine started up the stairs again, then turned to face Lynda. “How many are you going to tell her to expect?” she asked suspiciously.
“Uh…two?”
“You know that new CD player you wanted me to look at?”
“Yeah?”
“Think about it before you change your mind and decide to invite Rick without telling me first.”
“Blackmail? My own mom? I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it.”
“Can I invite Brian?”
“I’d rather you didn’t. I don’t want to make a big deal out of this and you know Grandma would if we started inviting a whole bunch of people.”
“Brian isn’t a bunch. He’s one person.”
“All right.” Catherine didn’t mind Brian being there but knew if she made Lynda fight to invite him, she would back off inviting Rick. “But tell him he’s not allowed to bring a present.”
“You can’t go to a birthday party and not bring a present. How about if we go in on something together?”
“You’re pushing.”
Lynda held her hands up in surrender. “That’s it. I promise.”
“Nothing over fifty dollars.” She’d decided the lavish presents had to stop. Along with club dues and fresh flowers that didn’t come from her own garden.
“You’re kidding.” When she didn’t get the response she expected, she added, “Aren’t you?”
“Consider it a challenge.”
“But I already picked something out.”
“What?”
She hesitated. “A St. John sweater I found when I was at Nordstrom trying on dresses with Dad for the wedding.”
She loved St. John knits. And Lynda had a perfect eye for what looked good on her. But the last thing she needed was a fifteen-hundred-dollar charge on her credit card for another sweater to add to her collection when she had to sell stock to make the house payment. “It sounds lovely, but I think the fifty-dollar present would be a lot more fun. And fun is important when you’re turning thirty-nine.”
“You want me to get you a joke gift? I thought you hated that kind of thing.”
Catherine knew it was going to be hard to make the changes she had to make to keep them afloat financially, she just hadn’t realized how hard. Lynda had never wanted for anything. There had never been a reason not to give her what she asked for or needed. She didn’t just expect a car for her sixteenth birthday, she believed she would be given the car of her choice.
“How about getting me…” Catherine couldn’t even come up with anything to suggest. The thought stunned her. It seemed they both had a long way to go.
“Never mind. Brian and I will figure it out.” She motioned for Catherine to move upstairs. “I want to talk to you about something else anyway. What do you think about Ray staying here instead of going to Kansas?”
“What do you mean by ‘here’?” Catherine asked carefully.
“I’ll tell you about it while you’re rubbing my back.” She grinned. “Brian’s going to call when he gets home.”
“Oh, now I understand the sudden rush.”
“What can I say? I’m in love.”
Catherine blinked in surprise. “Well—congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“When did this revelation take place?”
“It’s been creeping up on me for a long time and tonight I figured I might as well give in.” Responding to the look Catherine gave her, Lynda blushed and quickly added, “I don’t mean give in like in give in. That’s a long way off yet.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Come on.” Lynda put her hands on Catherine’s shoulders to turn her around. “Let’s go.”
Catherine found she was suddenly as anxious as Lynda to get through the massage and be alone. She had some thinking to do. Lynda in love? She’d known the day would come. She just hadn’t known it would make her feel left behind.
Could her life get any more complicated?
23
“YOU MIGHT AS WELL LIE ABOUT HOW OLD YOU are.” Phyllis stuck the last candle in Catherine’s birthday cake and stood back to study the symmetry. “Pick an age you really like. No one believes you when you tell them you’re thirty-nine, anyway. It’s a terrible age. One of those in-between things. You spend the entire year knowing it’s the last one in your thirties and that old age begins in just a few months.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Catherine said. “I can always count on you to cheer me up when I’m down.”
Phyllis stopped fiddling with the cake long enough to look at Catherine. “I didn’t know you were feeling down. Is there something you haven’t told me about?”
“I wasn’t serious.”
“Sounded pretty serious to me. Is Lynda having problems again?”
“Lynda’s fine. Actually, there are times when I think she’s almost doing too well. When she and Brian went to the Lilith concert she wore a short-sleeved linen shirt and never said a word about anyone noticing her pressure garments. It’s as if she’s become oblivious to people staring at her with a questioning look in their eyes.”
“Maybe they aren’t anymore.”
“Oh, it still happens. Every time we go out. I think I’ve finally convinced her that it’s not rudeness so much as curiosity.”
“Well, then maybe she’s become more accepting of that.”
“She hasn’t gone through any of the stages they talk about in the support group. Or if she has, they’ve been so minor I haven’t recognized them.”
Phyllis ran her finger over the frosting knife and popped the chocolate-coated digit in her mouth. “I seem to remember she had a number of incidents in the hospital when she was less than cooperative. And she was a real handful that week she came home. Couldn’t those have been stages?”
“I don’t count them.” Catherine took the sponge from the back of the sink and began wiping the counter. She loved working in her mother’s kitchen. There was a warmth here that was missing in hers, and she’d never been able to understand why. She was sure part of it was knowing that if she opened the pantry door she’d find a stair step of pencil marks with her and Gene’s names attached, but her feelings ran deeper than tradition. Because she hadn’t looked in a while, she opened the door to see that they were, indeed, still there. The marks followed hers and Gene’s growth from the time they were old enough t
o stand up by themselves until they left for college. She closed the door and looked at the woman who loved her without question, half of the pair who had built the foundation for a childhood full of good memories. There was more, but she couldn’t put a name to it, things she only felt, things that made her feel special.
“There has to be a reason you’re worried about Lynda.”
“I guess I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. At first I thought she was doing as well as she is because she comes from a good background and has always had lots of love and support. Then I looked around at the other parents in the group and realized I was being the worst kind of snob. Lynda isn’t loved any more or any better than the other kids. Money and position have nothing to do with how much someone cares.”
Catherine rinsed the sponge and put it away. “Did I tell you she’s even decided to go to the firefighters’ burn camp at Lake Tahoe after all?” This was Lynda’s one chance to attend the camp; the cutoff for participants was sixteen. The parents in the support group insisted the interaction with the other seventy-five burn survivors at camp was the best medicine their children received every year. Catherine had done everything short of ordering Lynda to go, with no success.
“Now that does surprise me. When did this happen?”
“She just came out with it the other night when I was massaging her back. I think Brian might have had a part in it—both the not wanting to go and then changing her mind. Turns out he’s going to be tied up with football that week and they wouldn’t be able to see much of each other anyway.”
“When does she go?”
“In two weeks.”
“And she’s going to be gone for a week?”
“Sunday to Saturday.”
“Want to do something fun?”
“Like?”
“We could drive up the coast, eat seafood until we get sick, and then meander home through the Napa Valley.”
She couldn’t believe how tempting getting away sounded, even if only for a couple of days. “I can’t. What if something happened at camp and they couldn’t reach me?”
“Ever hear of a cell phone?” Phyllis moved the cake to the opposite counter and checked the roast in the oven. “Come on, Catherine. It’ll be good for you to breathe some ocean air. And you couldn’t ask for better company.”
Disguised Blessing Page 19
