Fade to Blue

by Julie Carobini

  He pressed his eyes shut. “Why?” Then he raked his head side to side, reopened those steely eyes of his, and let them settle on mine. “Why are you here?”

  His directness unnerved me. Could he be wondering about my presence here so late on a Sunday afternoon? Or, more likely, was he questioning my reason for sitting across from him moments after a rather public argument with the town sweetheart?

  A tiny ball formed at the base of my throat, and the cloak of stupidity enveloped me until I, too, began to ask myself the same question. Why, Suz, did you think you had the right to come over here and offer a shoulder to a man who can no longer stand the sight of you?

  “You do know we were arguing about you.”

  My hand flew to my chest and I sat back. “There is no way I could have known that. Want to tell me why?”

  He smiled again, even less convincingly than the last time. “Holly thinks I’ve been unfair to you somehow. She called me, oh let’s see—judgmental, ornery, and oh yeah, cruel.” His fist dropped to the table. “All because I offered you some advice.”

  Emotion tugged at the corners of my mouth as I remembered the night Seth crashed my quiet work party at the studio. “Unwanted advice.”

  “You made that clear.”

  I looked again at him, seeing a curious mixture of anger and sadness vying for top billing on his face. The Seth I once knew had been carefree, almost to a fault. It’s what drew me to him, and in the end, what tore us apart. And yet, part of me realized that his carefree spirit was the one aspect I had tucked into my heart and carried with me on this move out west. After all the pain and mistakes of my past, I wanted to believe that dreams existed—and that I could follow mine.

  I searched Seth’s face. Something had changed. When had he become so complex . . . so hard to figure out?

  He hunkered forward. “You had something to say to me?”

  I inhaled. “I didn’t want or need your advice the other night. You crossed into my territory that night at work and offered your judgment of me, without knowing the truth—”

  He sat straighter, his gaze still unwavering. “I’m listening.”

  I waved my hands and shook my head. “Never mind. I didn’t come over here to take over the conversation and make it all about me. I did want to offer you friendship, which appears to have been a mistake.” I pushed my chair back against the linoleum tiles and stood, noting from the corner of my eye how my family scurried out of the shop.

  Callie gestured to the door and mouthed Meet you at home.

  With only fleeting eye contact, I turned back to Seth. “I hope you and Holly work things out, but believe me, I’ll stay out of it.”

  He reached out, wrapping his hand around my wrist. “Wait. Not two angry women in less than fifteen minutes.” He loosened his grasp but didn’t attempt to remove his hand. “How would that look?”

  This time the grin that spread across his face appeared to be genuine. I couldn’t face him but glanced around the shop instead, noticing more than one pair of eyes set on me. With his hand still holding my wrist, the sensation more comforting than should have been, well, comfortable, I lowered myself back into my chair.

  Silence settled between us.

  His gaze had softened and for an instant, I saw the boy from my past. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Come with me to the castle. There’s a great lookout I bet you haven’t had a chance to find yet.”

  I smiled at him. “That’s not a question.” This sudden whim of an idea reminded me of the old Seth I knew and . . . loved. How I wished I could pick up and go with him. Instead I sighed. “I have my son to get home to, and I’ve already spoiled his dinner by allowing him to eat dessert first. Don’t want to have my parenting license revoked.”

  That familiar pained expression replaced his grin.

  I shook my head. “Only kidding, you know. About the parenting license, I mean. I still can’t go to the castle today, but . . . maybe another time?”

  He answered me with a mustered-up smile and a brief nod. I stood, as the ringer on my cell phone indicated I’d received a text message. “Take care of yourself, Seth.” I read my message while walking away, then pivoted back around. Seth still sat at the table, staring into space.

  His eyes moved into focus as I held my phone out to him. He glanced at the screen, reading the message I had received, then back at me, an upturn at each corner of his mouth. “So Callie’s taking Jeremiah to the movies, then?”

  I nodded. “I suppose I can take you up on your offer, after all.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  It felt like playing with fire. In my head I justified this ride with Seth in his pickup truck. Just two friends, he and I, taking an impromptu excursion—like old times. I reminded myself that we still had issues to discuss, like my dissatisfaction over his judgment of me and how it came about that he and his girlfriend had fought over that same topic.

  Queasiness rolled through my belly and settled on this fact. Seth had a girlfriend, so did I have any excuse for being alone with him, friend or not, as we turned up this drive toward a quiet lookout beyond Hearst Castle?

  We reached that part of the driveway where tour buses parked, but Seth kept driving. “Suz, why don’t you reach around to the back and grab a couple of sodas from the cooler.”

  I unlatched my seat belt, turned, and knelt on the seat, spotting the cooler in the back. After flipping it open, I grabbed the top two bottles, shut the lid again, and sat back down. Laughter bubbled out of me.

  Seth watched me. “What?”

  I shook my head. “Wow. You’re still drinking orange and cream soda. Who knew?”

  “Hey, don’t knock it. That stuff’s the best, although not the easiest to come by. Some people just don’t know a good thing when they see it.”

  He stared straight ahead, but something about the way he said that, as if goading me, made me wonder what else he might have meant.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not knocking it, just surprised. I doubt I’ve had one since . . .” My gaze took off toward the distant meadow stretched across the hills. “Since we were practically kids.”

  “Seems like forever.”

  “The years have been a blur—so much has happened, you know?” Actually, he didn’t know. My hands began to freeze up against the cold glass bottles. “Anyway, sometimes I shut my eyes and try to remember the former me.”

  “And then what?”

  I shrugged. “A few memories come tumbling back, as if little time has passed at all.”

  Seth didn’t reply. He pulled the truck to a stop in a service area beyond the castle entrance, unbuckled his seat belt, and grabbed both bottles in one hand. “We have to hike it from here.”

  I hopped out and joined him around the other side of his truck, noting the nip in the breeze. Seth’s gaze brushed over me, and he reopened the driver-side door and reached inside. He handed me his sage-colored windbreaker and waited while I slipped my arms into it and pulled it closed around me.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Much. Thanks.”

  “Follow me, then. And watch your step. It gets trickier up at the top.”

  I allowed my curiosity to replace the guilt that had formed on the ride up here. We moved along without words, my mind absorbed with the wooded incline. Wisps of fog glided away from the hill, revealing soft sunshine hovering over an ocean that sashayed and glimmered below. The climb continued and I began to breathe heavily, but I didn’t mind. Soon enough we might be able to watch the sun sink below us and drop into the deep-blue sea.

  The path narrowed and gave way to rocks and loose pebbles. Seth turned and offered me a hand, which I took and clung to during the final moments of our climb through a stand of manzanita and pine trees. Guilt tried again to enter my consciousness, but I willed it away with the simple explanation that although our fingers intertwined with one another, once we had safely reached the lookout point, all nonessential touching would stop
.

  We hiked to a plateau in the clearing. Seth let go of my hand and gave me a bottle of soda. “Turn around and feast your eyes.”

  While making the trek up here, I had taken in sips of the water, admiring the view as often as possible. But seeing it from this precipice, as the sun began to show off with rays streaking like lightning bolts across the sea, brought certain breathlessness to my soul.

  “It’s beyond words,” I told him.

  He guzzled a long drink, never taking his eyes off the view. “Something Hearst and I could agree on.” He waved a hand in the direction of the castle. “This is what inspired him. It’s where he played as a kid, probably scrambling up some of those very trees with nothing but a slingshot and some of these dusty rocks.” Seth took another sip and glanced at me. “He often called this place The Ranch. It fits.”

  I lowered myself to the ground and sat cross-legged in the dirt. “And he only developed a small portion of it. Look around. It’s empty for acres and acres.”

  He dropped onto the earth next to me, his knees bent toward the unending sky above. “Next you’ll be telling me he gave all his money away to orphans and provided shelter for the homeless.”

  “You make me sound brainless.”

  He laughed. “I do not.”

  “I don’t know much about Mr. Hearst, but I do know that it takes more than money to build a place as grand as all this. It takes vision and persistence. Why shouldn’t I admire someone with those qualities?”

  “Can’t argue with that. It is strange, though, how revered this mere mortal was.” He downed the last sip. “And still is.”

  “Revered is a strong word. I like to think of him as a quirky character from the past, like Walt Disney or something.”

  A smile worked across his face, and he winked. “Only he created this Happiest Place on Earth all for himself and his celebrity friends.”

  “Well, I read that he housed workers up here for fifteen years and that he paid ‘San Francisco’ wages at the time. That’s saying something.”

  Seth glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “You would make a fine castle tour guide, you know that?” He grimaced. “Getting back to what you said earlier, lots of people have vision and persistence, Suz, but most of them don’t build museums to live in. That’s all I was saying.”

  “Oh, but the castle isn’t a museum to hold art.” My shoulders settled. “It’s more like a giant tapestry, every detail in place and having its own purpose.”

  He coughed out a laugh. “Okay now, be honest. Where’d you find that? A brochure?”

  I turned and watched him. “So you brought me up here to this beautiful site to make fun of me. You used to be such an adventurer, Seth. But this is what you do now for kicks? How disappointing.”

  “If I remember correctly, you used to be able to dish up a mean humble pie and shove it right into my mouth.”

  Memories of our gentle sparring matches surfaced, buoying the moment. “Remember when the girls and I beat you and your macho buddies in a game of bowling? Ha! We didn’t even know how to bowl!” I cupped my knee. “We beat your proud booties, all right. So what can I say? You inspired my pie recipe on a regular basis.”

  He snorted and shook his head.

  With playfulness, I bumped his arm with my fingers. Our laughter drifted away on the breeze and the sky began its change into evening. If we stayed here on this spot for a short while more, we would end up shoulder to shoulder under a blanket of stars.

  “What inspires me most about Hearst, I think, is that he was brave enough to follow his heart.” My gaze traveled toward the horizon, its edges glowing in pinks and yellows, before turning to take in his chiseled face. “You did that too, my old friend.”

  He gave a conciliatory nod. “Still working on that one. Sometimes . . . sometimes I wonder if that’s always such a good thing.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes following one’s heart or dream or whatever you want to call it also requires a high level of selfishness.”

  “Hmm. So maybe that’s why Hearst also once said, ‘Dreams are meant to be shared.’”

  Seth whooped and flopped back against the mossy hill. He smiled, his eyes open to the sky. “Oh, okay. Who’s been reading her share of romance novels?”

  I leaned back on my arms. “Stop it. He said it—not me!”

  “Yet it rolled off your tongue without much thought.”

  I sighed. “Just focusing on the positive. Every life has its share of darkness, but it’s the light that shines far brighter.”

  He twisted his lips, his face reflecting faint highlights from the setting sun, his smile more rueful now. “You’re really starting to sound like Holly, you know.” He let out a groan. “Like I said earlier when I told her about the spat you and I had, she defended you, Suz.”

  Considering the way we sat up here before twilight, just the two of us, I wasn’t sure what to say in my defense.

  “Didn’t mean to draw such fire from you ladies.” He sat up, his tone less jovial than before. “It’s just that I loved someone once and made horrible mistakes. Big ones.” He drew a deep breath and let it go. “Was just trying to save you the heartache.”

  He didn’t offer any more insight into his statement, and though I wanted to ask, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. When I’d first run into Seth, after so many years apart, I’d found him cold, indifferent. And I’d been selfish enough to think it had something to do with how I had hurt him years ago.

  Tonight, however, it sounded like he struggled with another demon.

  I took a breath. “My mother always told me that was impossible.”

  “What was?”

  “She said it was useless to try to make me learn from her mistakes because in the end, I’d learn better when I made my own. Dad was always right there beside her, smiling and nodding. Sometimes he’d hide behind her saying ‘yup, yup’ while shaking his head ‘no, no.’” The sudden memory caused me to laugh until a teardrop slid down my cheek. “They were such a pair.”

  Seth’s voice took a heavy turn. “I don’t understand how you do that.”

  My smile faded and I wiped my temple with the back of one hand. “What do you mean?”

  His eyes searched mine, doubt creasing the space between his brows. “How can you talk about your parents without even a trace of bitterness?”

  I blinked and thought for a moment. “Don’t think for a second that I don’t miss my parents terribly.” I snapped a dandelion from the earth and twirled it between two fingers. “Maybe the reason you don’t hear bitterness is because of what they left me with—the ability to see beyond my problems. Not that I have perfected this, of course. I struggle with doubt like anyone does. But my parents trusted God and stayed committed to each other, and that gives me hope. So much hope.”

  He nodded but didn’t respond.

  “Do you understand me better now?”

  He kept focused on the horizon, and his eyes began to glisten. “I think so. Maybe. Time has passed. It’s easier to take now.” He hung his head. “It’s one thing to accept such a tragedy as fact, though, and something far different to embrace it . . . as you seem to have done.”

  “Then you don’t understand.”

  “No, you don’t. Listen, you and I, we were both dreamers in our own way. I was the adventurer. What I lacked in education, I made up for in endless quests to experience all the thrills that life offered and to figure out my purpose. You, on the other hand, might not have wanted to travel like I did, but you’ve always had your head in the clouds.”

  “Hey.”

  “Admit it—you would scale a wall if it meant you’d find a silver lining at the top of it.”

  “It’s because I have hope. I believe in God’s promises.”

  Seth touched the fleshy part of my shoulder. Even through his jacket, I felt a ripple down my arm. “Talking about your parents as if they’re away on a cruise is not reality.”

>   I flinched. “Excuse me? What happened to make you so bitter?”

  “Plenty.”

  “Well.” Heat rose up my neck. “You’re not the one whose boyfriend wanted her to fly off to la-la land while her mother was dying.”

  Seth drew back. “Is that what you think? That I wanted you to abandon your mother? I was just trying to help you feel better. You were so sad, and—”

  “And you wouldn’t stick it out with me and help me grieve!” I flicked away a tear and breathed in and out, listening to the sound of my own breathing.

  “Suz . . . I’m sorry.”

  I steadied my voice, ignoring the stricken look on Seth’s face. “After my parents died, I clung to God, and to my husband.”

  The line of Seth’s jaw hardened.

  “And Len betrayed me.”

  Seth’s scowl dissipated.

  “But you know what? God never did. When I had nothing left, I clung to him alone, and he met every need—all the way down to sending me clear across the country so I would have a safe place to raise my son.”

  Seth reached for my hand. I shoved it away. His bitterness had bruised, and it had brought to the surface a watery memory I didn’t care to revisit. I’d needed Seth to stay and comfort me, to walk me through the dark underside of grief. Instead, his constant pressure to run from my heartache warped my thought process and sent me careening into the arms of another man.

  Len’s arms.

  Seth reached for me again, and though I attempted to resist, the familiarity of his caress, the warmth of his skin, lulled me. Two factions warred for my heart: despair over the past and the desire to feel his touch again. He moved so close his steady breathing grazed my cheek.

  “Holly defended you . . .”

  I pulled my hand away, my skin scraping against his. Had I learned nothing from Len’s betrayal? I stood and dusted the earth from my jeans. “I have no right to be alone and holding hands with another woman’s boyfriend.”

  “Wait. Let’s talk. This has gotten out of hand.”

  The nip in the air had turned downright chilly. “You’re right about that. I don’t know what I was thinking . . . coming up here.” With you. I looked away and gathered my thoughts, before swinging my gaze back to the man who sat at my feet.