“Kate!” Donna exclaimed. “What a coincidence. I was just telling Sheryl I needed to call you. And here you are!”
“Donna,” Kate said evenly, eyeing Sheryl over Donna’s shoulder. Sheryl gave Kate a shrug, conveying her deepest sympathies.
Donna, oblivious to the silent signals, said, “You baffled me with that phone call the other night. Was there something you wanted to tell me?”
Kate was the one who looked baffled. “Phone call?”
“Come on, Kate. I know we’re all getting older, but surely you remember calling me?”
“Oh, Christ, I’m sorry, Donna.” The other woman flinched at Kate’s choice of words. “Listen, can I call you later?”
Sheryl picked up the cue and took Donna’s arm. “Kate and I were just going out.” Donna’s head was bobbing up and down as Sheryl showed her out the door.
Sheryl held up her hands before Kate could lay into her. “It’s not my fault. My regular client canceled this morning and Donna just walked in. I couldn’t turn her down.” Kate made a face. As they were walking out the door, Sheryl asked in a conspiratorial tone, “Do you suppose she puts on her outfit and Bill puts on his shoulder pads, and they play the Football Captain and the Cheerleader?”
Kate snickered. “That’s a scary thought.”
“It sure is. I’ve been under the bleachers with Bill.”
Kate’s laughter pealed out across the street.
Mike, his hands shading the sides of his face, peered into the window of the tower room. “Oh, Christ,” he said softly, as he stared at the shrine Kate had built to Paul.
“Amazing, huh?” Matt said excitedly. “She’s got all his stuff in there! How do I get in?”
“You don’t,” Mike answered, straightening up.
“Oh, come on! Can’t I just sneak in—take a look?”
“Not without Kate’s permission.”
“How am I supposed to get her permission if I can’t talk to her about Paul Armstrong?”
“I guess you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, Matt, m’boy.”
“I bet I can get her to show it to me.”
“You say one word to her about this and you can forget about coming back tomorrow. You understand?”
Matt put his hands on his hips and shook his head in disgust, as his uncle climbed back down the ladder.
Paul was right, Mike thought. You don’t stand a chance.
Sheryl and Kate decided on Chinese, and now sat in a booth of the Sunshine Garden sharing a plate of pot stickers.
Kate dipped one of the dumplings into the garlicky brown sauce and bit into it. “I could eat these for the rest of my life.”
“Maybe we should just get another order of these and forget the moo shu pork,” Sheryl said, trying to get her chopsticks around the slippery dough. She finally gave up and picked up the pot sticker with her fingers. “I could lose a lot of weight if I ate with those damned things.”
“Like you need to lose weight.”
Sheryl eyed Kate. “Looks to me like you could gain a few pounds. What the hell do you eat at home?”
Kate shrugged, dismissing the topic, and eyed the last pot sticker.
“It’s yours,” Sheryl said.
“I really like Matt. He seems like a nice kid.”
“Yeah, I’ve pretty much decided to keep him. So, he’s doing a good job?”
Kate nodded, sipping her tea. “He and Mike are working their tails off.”
“Mike’s really enjoying it. He loves that kid.”
Kate leaned back and let Beth, their decidedly non-Chinese waitress, remove the plates from the table. “He looks a lot like you.”
Sheryl grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Beth was back with their lunch. Kate waited impatiently as the college student meticulously spread the thin Chinese pancakes with duck sauce, piled the moo shu in the center, added a few wisps of green onion, and then proceeded to attempt the intricate folding process. Afraid they’d never get to eat, Kate said, “It’s okay, Beth. We’ll take it from here.” A look of relief crossed the girl’s face. “Where was I?” Kate asked.
“You were telling me how much my gorgeous son looks like me.”
“Oh, right.” Kate chewed, swallowed, then said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but where did he get those eyes?”
Sheryl’s own eyes flickered away from Kate’s for an instant, then returned. “Who knows. Some latent gene, I guess.”
“Does he miss his dad much?”
“No, I think he’s doing okay. Don’t get me wrong, Dan is a great father. And Matt loved spending the summer with him, but he’s always been pretty self-sufficient, and Mike’s always been there for him when Dan couldn’t be.”
“Has it been hard for you?”
“The divorce?” Sheryl shook her head. “No, it needed to happen. Dan and I really grew apart. We were married so young …”
The two women ate in silence for a few minutes, then Sheryl said, “Kate? Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” Kate concentrated on scooping up the last bit of moo shu pork.
“I mean, I know we’ve never been bosom buddies or anything …”
“Well, I’ve known you for over twenty years, but I’ve just gotten to know you since you moved back. I think that qualifies you as some kind of buddy.” Kate smiled slyly. “Although I happen to know you didn’t like me much in high school. I could never figure out why.”
Sheryl waved away Kate’s observation, not wanting to get off course. “It was a long time ago. What I want to know is, how do you feel about Mike?”
Kate’s fork stopped in midair and she stared at Sheryl. “I think I just figured it out. You knew all along how Mike felt about me.”
“Yeah. How come you didn’t?”
“Is that what this lunch is about?” Kate put her fork down and it clattered against the plate. “What a dirty trick.”
Sheryl’s face reddened, and she rushed to get the words out before Kate could stop her or, worse, get up and leave. “Kate, you’re all he cares about. He’s crazy about you. I don’t think a day goes by that he doesn’t think or worry about you. I think you both deserve a little happiness at this point. Can’t you give him a chance?”
“I’m happy,” Kate said with false conviction.
“You’re happy? Kate, you’ve cut off all your friends, you sleep on the couch when you sleep at all, you’ve lost interest in everything that ever meant anything to you, and you drink too much … do I need go on?”
“Don’t tell me how to live my life.”
Sheryl sat back in the booth. “What life?” Then, softening her tone, she asked, “Don’t you miss the closeness of someone? Don’t you want to love anyone again?”
Kate’s chin began to quiver and she clamped her jaw tightly to stop it. Her hand nervously kneaded the napkin she was holding.
Sheryl reached across the table and covered her friend’s hand with her own. “I know you do, Kate. Why won’t you admit it?”
Kate found her voice, and said, “You don’t know anything about me or how I feel.” Fumbling in her purse, she extracted a ten-dollar bill from her wallet and slapped it on the table. “Leave me alone.” She slid out of the booth and stiffly walked out of the restaurant.
Sheryl sighed deeply, put her face in her hands, and whispered, “I tried, Mike.”
Mike looked at his watch for the third time in twenty minutes. It was five o’clock. He had sent Matt home half an hour ago. Where was Kate? He was putting his tools on the back porch when he heard Kate’s phone ringing, and he stepped into the kitchen to answer it.
“Mike?”
Hearing his sister’s voice, Mike said, “Where did you guys go for lunch? Richmond?”
“She’s not home yet?”
“No, and I was just getting ready to leave. Is Kate on her way?”
“The last time I saw her she was throwing money at me and walking out of the restaurant. She didn’t even eat her
fortune cookie. You know what it said? ‘Fortunes come and go, but friendships last forever.’ ” She chuckled mirthlessly.
“What happened?”
“Let’s just say it didn’t go well, and leave it at that.”
“Let’s not.”
After Sheryl’s summary of her luncheon fiasco, Mike said, “I think I know where to find her.”
“Don’t do it, Mike. She definitely wants to be left alone. She’ll come home after you leave. Count on it.” She paused. “I’m sorry, Mike. I thought I could help, but she’s impossible to talk to.”
“She needs time.”
“She’s had time,” Sheryl said harshly. “She doesn’t care about anyone but herself.”
Mike’s sarcastic “Thanks for your insights” ended the phone call.
Kate let herself into the back entrance of the shop and stood in the small kitchen, waiting for her eyes to adjust. She didn’t want to turn on any lights. Didn’t want to lose the blanket of protection the dark provided. There was no moon, but she began to see faint outlines of shapes with the help of a streetlamp in the back parking lot. Feeling her way along the counter, she found a mug and filled it with tap water. She wished for a glass of wine.
She’d spent the afternoon meandering along the Skyline Drive on the Blue Ridge Parkway. But it had been a gray day, and the heavy fog brought her back into the valley sooner than she wanted. Her mood hadn’t improved, and at four-thirty she’d stopped at the Blue Bottle, a small cocktail lounge in Waynesboro, and ordered a glass of rosé. An hour later, she’d had three glasses. She then drove to the shop, knowing Cindy had closed it up at six. She didn’t see any point in going home.
The slow-motion, what-the-hell feeling from the wine had worn off, leaving her cold and dry-mouthed. Finishing off the water, Kate made her way out of the kitchen and into the small back room she and Cindy used as a lounge. Kate curled up on the old plaid sofa, pulled a quilt over her, and using her coat as a pillow, tried to close her eyes. But it was early, and sleep wouldn’t come. Kate lay in the dark, eyes open, listening to the night sounds of the old building. Fifteen minutes passed. An eternity. A cold eternity. The automatic thermostat had obviously downshifted to its nighttime setting of 55 degrees.
A high-pitched chirping echoed through the shop, startling Kate. The phone was ringing and she knew who was calling. It stopped after nine rings. She turned to face the back of the couch, pulling herself into a tighter ball. The hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen stopped with a mechanical clack and silence enveloped her. A sharp, scrabbling sound reached her ears. A mouse—a rat?—in one of the kitchen cupboards. She closed her eyes tightly, wishing she could start this day again.
Don’t you want to love anyone again?
Her brain screamed “No!”
Trying to clear her mind, she scrunched her eyes shut and silently repeated the words, “Don’t think … don’t think.” It was a trick she’d used since her teens, but it didn’t seem to work anymore.
“You promised … you promised we’d be together always.”
Kate knew how childish the words sounded. How naïve they were. When would this pain go away? What was wrong with her, that she couldn’t leave it behind?
“Don’t you miss the closeness?”
The voice in her head shouted, “Yes, damn it!”
“Stop it!” she said aloud. “Don’t think!”
She wanted to talk to someone who’d listen to her problems. She wanted to talk to the friend who’d always been her touchstone. But how could she? Mike had become the problem. How could he possibly listen now?
Now that she knew how he felt about her, how could she talk about Paul without hurting Mike? Oh, God, she was lost without his down-to-earth advice; his knowing just when to make a joke. She already missed the way he rode her when her stubbornness threatened to cease being a good thing. Kate wanted to go home. She wanted the warm cocoon that a drink provided; the dreamless sleep it gave her.
The phone was ringing again, and she let it. He knew her so well. Damn it! Mike knew everything about her.
And she wanted … “Why don’t you admit it?” … him.
Her eyes flew open.
Locking the shop door behind her, she turned to the near empty parking lot. A frost had settled, making the pavement sparkle under the streetlamp. The leather soles of her boots fought to get a grip on the slick asphalt as she made her way to her car. The wipers and the car heater made quick work of the feathery ice on the windshield, and she drove home through the deserted streets of Staunton.
The kitchen light was on when she let herself in. A note was propped up against a mug in the middle of the table.
I fed Homer. You know where I am if you need me. Mike
She quickly dialed his number, before she could change her mind. After the fifth ring she gave up.
Mike gave up waiting for Kate around seven and called Susan Lake. She’d already eaten, but had leftovers if he wanted them. They both knew what he wanted, but they played the game anyway, and Mike drove to her house with anticipation.
Susan, her two divorces leaving her with a healthy respect for noncommitment, was uncomplicated, fun, easy on the eyes, and a very inventive lover: a winning combination for Mike these days. “I love men,” she’d said many times. “But shoot me before I marry another one.” Susan could make him forget his day. No mean feat.
The music was soft, the wine was good, and the candles were, like Susan, warmly seductive. But a strange thing happened once Mike was comfortably ensconced on her sofa. His mind kept wandering.
He was staring into the glass he held, when Susan playfully poked him, and said, “So, what do you think? I’ll call up my two exes, and we’ll have a little contest …”
Mike looked up and smiled vaguely. “Sure, whatever you want.”
Susan chuckled. “Mike. Where are you tonight?”
He sighed and set the wine glass on the coffee table. Turning to Susan, he said, “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Wasn’t important.” She kissed his hand.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Guess I’m tired.”
“Do you want to leave?”
He shook his head.
“Well, then, we could just kick back and watch TV.”
“Sounds good.”
Not much later, he was asleep. When he awoke, Mike folded the afghan she’d covered him with. He went into her bedroom waking her to kiss her good-bye—to thank her.
“For what?” she sleepily asked.
“For putting up with me. For being here.”
“Don’t give it a second thought.” She smiled. “It’s been fun.”
“That it has,” he said.
“I think it’s time for you to find someone who can give you what you need, Mike.”
He nodded. “How about you?”
“What I need is to go back to sleep. That,” she said, closing her eyes, “and occasional great sex.”
Mike smiled and pulled the blankets up over her shoulder. He left her Victorian cottage as the sun’s rays crept over the Blue Ridge.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Mike let himself in through Kate’s front door as he had for the past three days. As he walked down the hallway to the kitchen, he glanced into the den.
Kate, fully dressed, was asleep on the couch. He reached in to close the door. When he saw the empty wine bottle and glass on the coffee table, he silently swore. It was getting worse. Matt’s voice reached him from the front of the house and he quickly shut the door. Putting his finger to his lips, he ushered Matt back outside. “She’s still sleeping. Why don’t you take the day off?”
Matt happily agreed.
By half past ten Mike had fed and walked the dog, read the morning paper, and made a pot of coffee. Kate slept on. Pouring her a cup of coffee, adding the two teaspoons of sugar she liked, he walked back into the den and set the cup down. He gently nudged her with his knee. She buried her face deeper into the pillow.
He shook her shoulder. “Kate? Time to get up.” She moaned, but didn’t move. “Kate!” Louder this time, with a harder shake.
Earthquake, Kate thought. An earthquake in Virginia. How strange.
Mike walked to the window and pulled up the blind. It didn’t catch and made a loud, flapping noise as it spun into a tight roll.
“Katie. Damn it, wake up!”
His angry voice reached through her sleepy brain and latched onto a functioning lobe. She groaned and mumbled something into the pillow. There’s that shaking again. It was hard to ignore, and she slowly lifted her head. Blinking, barely able to open her eyes, she gazed at the flowered print of the pillowcase until it came into focus. She sluggishly turned over and squinted up at Mike’s unsmiling face.
She started to speak, but instead of words a croaking sound emerged. Clearing her throat, Kate finally said, “Go away.”
Mike looked at the bags under her eyes, and her mouth, puffy with sleep and wine. A crease ran across her right cheek like an old scar. A streak of mascara formed a shadow under her eye.
“You look like shit.”
“You say the nicest things,” she responded.
“Drink the coffee while it’s hot.” He stalked out of the room.
Kate sat up and her head pounded. She slammed her eyes shut and the pain turned to a dull thudding. When she opened them again, he was standing in front of her, holding out a wet towel. Wordlessly taking it from him, she sank her face into its cool, soothing folds and sighed.
“Better?”
She nodded, lifting her face from the cloth.
Mike pushed aside several magazines and sat on the coffee table. He handed her the cup and she took a swallow.
“So, is this what it’s come to? The thought of my being in love with you is so horrible that you have to get stinking drunk?”
“No.” She handed back the cup and pressed the towel to her eyes again.
“What, then?”
“I couldn’t sleep, okay?”
“No!” He pulled the towel away from her with a jerk. “It’s not okay. Where were you all afternoon and evening?”
“Out.”
“Out where?”
“Just out, y’know? And where were you? I tried to call.”
Remember the Time Page 11
