by Kate Gilead
“No. Blue smoke means burning oil. Depending on what’s going on, you could destroy the engine if you keep driving it.”
“Shit!” She looks around helplessly. “I wonder how bad this is going to be…maybe I better call a few places first, get some idea what this is going to cost me.”
I nod soberly, as if I’m not going to take care of it.
Hell, as far as I’m concerned, I’d just as soon buy her a new car. But that might be pushing it.
“We’ll get it looked after, sweetie. Hop in, I’ll drive you home.”
Poor girl! I’m dying to tease her but, I decide against it. Her pride’s had to take enough of beating yesterday. I’ll go easy on her, give her a break.
I smile at her, open the truck door for her and hold it while she climbs in. I go lock up her car and then get back in the driver’s seat.
“I’m so sorry about this. Thank you, Blake.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I start the truck up. “Hey, didn’t you say you were gonna call your Mom back? Better let her know know I’m bringing you home. ”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll text her.”
When she’s done, I hold my hand out to her and she takes it. I bring her hand to my lips and kiss it, hoping she feels more reassured and less stressed now.
In a few minutes we’re pulling into the driveway of a small but tidy two-story home. There are two women standing under a light in front of the garage door, talking. Their heads turn towards us as we pull in.
Jenny gets out of my truck. “Hi Mom,” she says to an attractive older woman with soft-looking, graying hair. They embrace and then turn to me as I exit the truck and move towards them.
“Mom, this is Blake,” Jenny says. “Blake, this is my mother Elaine and this is our neighbor, Marta.”
“Nice to meet you Elaine…Marta,” I shake each of their hands in turn.
“Oooh, hello Blake,” Marta says. She’s an older woman, with brown eyes made owlish behind a pair of large-framed glasses. “Nice to meet you.” Her eyes dart from Elaine to Jenny to me.
“Hi, Blake,” Elaine says cheerfully. “Thanks for bringing my kid home.”
“My pleasure,” I say. I notice that Elaine doesn’t look like she’s in a state of grief right now. Or even, particularly upset. Maybe the neighbor came by to cheer her up or something.
“Blake, ah…he’s just dropping me off.” Jenny says, uncomfortably.
“Oh, can’t you come in for a coffee, Blake?” Elaine says.
“I’d love to.” I look at Jenny, who’s standing there with a rather stiff smile on her face. “That is, if it’s okay with you, Jen.”
She hesitates, then says, “Sure, of course,” a bit too quickly. Then she turns on her heel and beelines for the front door. Elaine watches after her, frowning.
“I was just leaving,” Marta says. “Have fun, kids.” She walks away down the driveway, waving over her shoulder.
We all say goodbye. Elaine gives me a warm smile, and turns to follow her daughter, saying, “Come on in, Blake.”
Chapter Fourteen
Jenny
Why’d Mom have to be outside when we got home? Of course, she’s going to do the polite thing and invite Blake in for coffee.
I was hoping he’d just drop me off so I could throw myself into Mom’s arms, tell her everything and cry like a baby. But now I’ve gotta make all nice-y nice with her and Blake. I lead the way into the house and hold the door open for the two of them with a smile plastered onto my face.
Mom’s chattering at him in her welcoming way. “We got that car for her second-hand but it was in good shape. Oh well, we’ll get it sorted out.”
“I can help with that. I don’t know if Jenny mentioned it, but, I grew up in Maple Mills. My parents still live here. I can arrange to have her car taken to their mechanic. He’s reliable and has reasonable rates.”
“That would be wonderful,” Mom says, as we enter the house.
Great, I think to myself. Just great. I don’t want any more of his favors now!
“Very kind of you,” Mom’s saying. “So, you were born here in town, were you?”
“No, I was born in Cleveland but my parents moved here when I was a baby.”
“Oh, I see. Sit, sit,” she says, waving at the kitchen table. “Would you like some cookies? Or, even better, I think we have some carrot cake.”
“No thanks,” I say, a bit too briskly. “We just had dessert.”
“Ooohhkay,” she says, a frown line appearing between her brows. “Well, I’ll just put a pot of coffee on.”
“Instant!” I practically shout. “Instant’s good! We’ll have instant.”
Now they both shoot me a look. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d love a cup of brew,” Blake says. “I get sick of instant; it’s all I drink at the trailer.”
“But you can have instant if you really want, Jenny,” Mom says, teasingly, cocking an eyebrow at me. She and Blake smile at each other.
“Heh. No, it’s…ha ha! I just thought that, ah…um… Blake’s, um…you know… in a rush. It’s, ahhh…it’s a work night. Heh.”
Lame! They’re both looking at me strangely again. Small wonder.
“Nope, no rush here.” Blake says. His eyes narrow the tiniest bit. Oh boy.
I decide to shut up. I plunk myself down in a chair and cross my arms. Blake and Mom look at each other, then back at me, then back at each other.
“Um, good,” Mom says. “So, ah…Blake! I have a lot to thank you for! It’s nice that you’re taking such good care of my daughter. This is all very decent of you.”
She smiles so warmly at him, I just want to retch. She was right to be suspicious of him and I was stupid to trust him.
How am I gonna tell her now that he’s so decent, he’s got another woman back in California that he’s looking after, too.
Hell, for all I know, he’s got a fricking harem stashed away somewhere, all needing his tender loving care.
Bleh!
“…needed help,” Blake’s saying. “You should have seen her. She was obviously in pain. Poor thing!” He looks at me lovingly and puts his foot on top of mine under the table. God! I wanna puke, but I just smile, then look away, moving my foot out from under his.
He frowns and tilts his head at me slightly…just enough to show me that he sees something’s wrong. Oops. Okay, better straighten up. He’ll be gone soon enough and then I can talk to my mother in peace.
“Yes, migraines run in the family,” Mom says, measuring ground coffee into the machine. “My mother had them pretty bad. I’ve had a few doozies myself.”
“So Jenny was saying, “ Blake says. “Could be, she’s been working too hard, too. I didn’t realize how hard. Working from home, putting in a lot of overtime.” His voice is full of concern.
My heart comes dangerously close to melting but I steel myself. How sincere can that be when his concern is being split between two women?
“That stops now,” he adds. “I was remiss in not keeping a closer eye on her workload. I’ll make sure she gets paid for her overtime, and try to limit it going forward.”
I was remiss, I mock him in my head. I’ll fix everything…going forward. Yeah, okay, Mr. Fixit, you get right on that.
I just want to burst into tears.
“And it was good of you to give her the day off, too.” Mom says.
“My pleasure. Mrs. Gordon….”
“Call me Elaine,” she says.
“Okay, Elaine. Thank you. ” He gives her a charming smile.
A little more casual chit-chat and then Mom gets right down to business.
“Blake, you’re obviously a little older than my daughter…?” she raises her eyebrows, waiting.
Oh fuck, here we go, I think, rubbing my forehead.
“Right. I’m thirty-eight,” he says, all forthright and honest.
Sheesh.
“Oh? Thirty-eight. Okay,” Mom replies, as if she didn’t already know. “And you’ll forgive m
e if I ask whether you’ve been married in the past?”
Okay, this should be interesting, I think to myself.
“Sure, of course,” he says, sitting forward and looking at her earnestly. “I was never married, no. I did have a long-term relationship that ended two years ago. We lived together for six years.”
“I see. Any children of the relationship?” Mom asks.
I’m sure if Blake had any children, I’d know about it by now. But my ears perk up anyway.
“No. No children.”
“May I ask, are you interested in having any children?”
I squirm in my chair, unable to suppress a faint groan. Okay, now, I don’t wanna hear any more of this. There’s no point.
“It’s okay, Jen,” Blake says, misunderstanding my discomfort. “I have no problem answering any questions. Yes, Elaine, I would like to have children someday. Someday soon, I hope, before I get too old.”
“Sure. Completely understandable.” Mom smiles.
Blake smiles back. “As are your concerns. I want to reassure you as best I can. Obviously, I’m quite smitten with Jennifer. She’s…one of a kind.” His voice is quiet and his gaze is steady.
Crap! I want to believe that so bad, I can almost taste it. I say nothing, just offer him a tight smile.
“That, she is,” Mom says, relaxing. “She’s been my rock since Frank, my husband, died, several years ago.”
“Jenny did mention that your husband passed. I’m very sorry for your loss.” His voice is quiet and respectful, the sentiment addressed to us both. “I’m not surprised that Jennifer has been there for you,” he adds. “She’s amazing. You’ve raised a fine young woman.”
Oh…geez. I glance at Mom and see that she’s eating this up.
“Thank you, Blake,” Mom says. My heart’s wavering again now because, naturally, this is like balm for her soul.
It just figures. Of course he’s winning my mother over, just when events show that he can’t be trusted.
But he’s doing such a great job. He seems so sincere.
Again, I ask myself, why would he lie about being attracted to me? Why use me when he could have anyone? When there’s a woman back home? He just doesn’t seem like he could be such a…prick. It goes against everything I know about him; it goes against how he’s acting right now.
It’s not making any sense.
Yet…I didn’t imagine his phone conversation with his “Angel”.
Maybe I just need to remember that Blake Cameron is no shy, retiring blue-collar worker. He’s a big name in my industry and he’s a well-connected, sought-after professional. Not to mention, a very eligible bachelor. This is not some backwards, socially-awkward guy.
Quite the contrary. He’s a smooth operator, especially when he wants to pour on the charm.
I should keep that in mind.
Mom and Blake talk as the coffee brews. I listen without saying much. They talk about local people whom his parents know, mostly people Mom’s age or older. Blake doesn’t know many of them very well himself, having spent his adult life in California, but they manage to find a few people in common.
When the coffee machine is making its gurgling, almost-ready noises, Mom gets up and goes behind Blake to get some mugs down from the cupboard.
Behind his back, she turns and glares at me, and then points at the coffee machine. She’s telling me to get up and get his coffee for him.
I suppose it’s the least I can do. Besides, having made him coffee many times at work, I know exactly how he likes it. Triple cream, triple sugar.
I put the mug of coffee in front of him on the table and he thanks me, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze. He smiles up at me with such tenderness, it makes me even more confused…if that’s possible.
He takes a sip of his coffee. “Mmm, that’s good,” he says. “So, Elaine…would you feel up to telling me a little bit about your late husband? I’d love to hear what he was like. You know, just…whatever you feel like mentioning. You too, Jenny.”
What’s this now? He couldn’t have picked a more welcome subject to ask Mom about. Most people avoid talking about people who’ve passed on, as if talking about them hurts their survivors. Or worse, they change the subject if the bereaved bring it up.
What they don’t realize is that, sometimes, the bereaved find comfort in talking about departed loved ones. Remembering them, talking about them, celebrating or even expressing anger at them…all of that helps the healing process.
I don’t know if Blake knows that, or if he’s just being polite.
But Mom’s fairly glowing now, regarding Blake with doe eyes, as if the sun is shining straight out of his ass.
Oh. My. God!
“Oh… he was a first-rate man,” she says, glancing at me. “Just a terrific husband and father….oh dear! I wouldn’t know where to start!”
Right then, Dog strolls in out of nowhere and tries to jump up into Blake’s lap. He gets up there, then loses his balance and falls right back off, paws flailing.
“Rrrrowwrr?” Dog says to Blake from the floor, blinking up at him.
“Hey, kitty,” Blake replies nonchalantly, as if enormous black cats jump into his lap all day long. He leans back and pats his leg. Dog jumps back up there and Blake holds onto him so that the cat doesn’t fall off again. Dog puts his paws on Blake’s chest, then sniffs his nose delicately.
Then he rubs his cheek against Blake’s.
What the hell? I know it’s silly of me but I don’t want my cat to like a man who’s about to break my heart.
“That’s Dog,” Mom says. “He’s not usually this, um, affectionate with strangers.”
I can’t believe this is happening.
“He seems to like me for some reason,” Blake says. “Um…did you say his name is Dog?”
“Yes, Jenny named him Dog, after a cartoon character, wasn’t it?”
“A video game actually. He’s named after a character from Half Life 2. It’s a big, clumsy robot who protects the heroine.”
“Oh right. Jennifer and her friends were all big video gamers when they were growing up.”
Blake smiles at me, raising his eyebrows. “Half Life 2 is a great game. That first zombie level was killer. “We don’t go to Ravenhome!” he quotes in an ominous voice, eyes wide in pretend terror.
Gimme a break! Now he’s a video game geek too, on top of everything? Except for this Angel woman, he’s near perfect.
Again, I feel like crying, but I just sit there with a fake smile stuck to my face.
Dog tries to turn around in Blake’s lap and nearly falls off again.
Blake holds onto him. “He’s not very steady, is he? Is there something wrong with him?”
“Yeah. He’s retarded, like me,” I say, before I can stop myself.
Blake lets out an amused snort.
“Jennifer!” Mom scolds. “Sheesh! Politically correct much?”
I shrug. “I’m joking, obviously. No, Blake, we don’t know for sure if there’s something wrong with him,” I say. “We’ve had the vet look at him but they didn’t find anything. He was always very large, even as a kitten. He always had those gigantic paws and he was always clumsy as hell.”
“He is huge!” Blake’s big hand strokes the cat from between his ears all the way down his back. Dog arches his back, closing his eyes. Then, tail waving gracefully, he lays down in Blake’s lap and curls himself up.
Good lord. My cat’s a traitor! My eyes roll so hard, I almost get a cramp in my eye-muscles. Luckily, no one notices.
“So you were saying…?” Blake says. “About Frank? Where did you meet?”
“Right, right. We met in high school,” Mom says. “He was on the football team and I was a cheerleader. Love at first sight. We were totally wrapped up in each other from the moment we met. I nearly got kicked off the squad for necking with him under the bleachers.” She laughs as she tells the familiar story. She talks about when they decided to get married, and tells some anecdote
s about their early years together and so on.
I watch Blake. He listens carefully and respectfully, asking questions, prompting and urging her onwards.
And as they talk, I see that he’s not humoring her or flattering her with his interest.
He’s not pretending.
He’s either interested or putting on such a great act, he thinks he’s up for an Academy Award.
No. He seems to be enjoying himself.
Why is this man sitting here, behaving so well and so lovingly, if he’s just using me for sex or something?
But why is he also stringing along some poor, unsuspecting woman back in LA?
What the hell is he doing?
What the hell am I doing?
Jesus! I hate being so confused and unsure!
Meanwhile, my mother is totally basking in his attention. She’s enjoying herself so much! She’s happy right now, happy for me and just…happier overall.
She’s so…so….buoyant and well, light-spirited, compared to how she’s been since my dad passed. How the hell am I gonna dump the truth about Blake’s two-timing on her now?
Shit! I…she…I can’t. I can’t do it. I don’t have the heart to pull her back down, just when she started to tread water again.
Not to mention, I’ll have to tell her how I know about Blake’s “Angel” in the first place. When she finds out that I eavesdropped, she’ll probably say that I need to ask Blake about it. To talk to him like an adult, face to face.
But I don’t fucking feel like it right now. I’m too tired. Overwhelmed. All this shit is just too much.
I yawn, my jaw cracking. I need to sleep on it.
No. I’ll have to deal with this myself. I can’t tell my mother, even if she’d want to be there for me. Not right now, when she’s just starting to feel better.
I can’t tell anyone, in fact.
My stomach clenches into an anxious ball. At least for now, I’m totally on my own with this.
Blake stays for another agonizing hour and a half, talking with Mom. I speak when spoken to, trying to keep myself out of trouble.
