Traded

by Tess Thompson

  “Would you like me to put some balm on your lips?” Kara asked.

  She nodded and lifted her chin. Kara brushed the balm over his mother’s bottom and top lips.

  “Will you come by later?” She asked in a small, hopeful voice. He had never in his life seen her this helpless. It scared the crap out of him. Where was the powerhouse attorney?

  “I’ll bring lunch later. But you text me if you need me.” Kara picked up his mother’s phone on the bedside table. “May I put my number in here?”

  “Yes, please.” Mom settled back on her pillows.

  For a moment, Kara hesitated, like she didn’t know her know her own phone number. After a second or two, she pulled her phone from her back pocket and looked at the screen.

  “Can’t remember your own phone number?” He sounded rude. He hadn’t meant to, but who didn’t know their own number?

  “It’s a new phone.” Her tone was one of utmost politeness, but he recognized the feisty glitter in her eyes from the day before. “Would you like me to turn your program back on?” Kara asked his mother.

  “No, I’ll rest now. Thank you, Kara.” His mom reached up and patted Kara’s cheek. “So pretty.” She dropped her hand and closed her eyes.

  Apparently, his mother was now a Kara fan too. He needed to take a trip. Sooner rather than later. A long trip.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kara

  “All right, my dear,” Flora said. “First things first. We must go over what Brody likes to eat.” She handed Kara a notepad. “I took the liberty of getting you a notebook.”

  Over the next few hours, Flora covered recipes and shopping requirements with more precision than a college course in microbiology. The list consisted of lean proteins, avocados, various whole grains. “Absolutely nothing processed. Don’t get potato chips or anything like that when you shop because he can’t resist them.” Kara wrote dutifully into the notebook, although it was all for show. She was a nurse. An understanding of nutrition was second nature. After Flora finished her list of proper foods, she gave Kara a tour of the kitchen.

  This went here, that went there, never let the refrigerator get that film of goop. They ended the course on Feeding Brody by making a lasagna.

  “Just the way Brody likes it,” Flora said.

  Three kinds of cheese. Spinach in the sauce for extra vitamins. Wheat noodles cooked al dente.

  Kara had managed the entire afternoon without an eye roll—a feat of epic proportions.

  After they had the lasagna in the oven, Flora accepted Kara’s offer to clean the kitchen so that she could enjoy a cup of tea.

  As she settled into the nook, Flora wrapped her hands around the tea mug and let out a sigh. “I’ve washed more dishes for this family than I care to count.”

  Kara smiled. “Brody doesn’t want you washing any more dishes.”

  “He doesn’t understand that it’s nearly impossible to veer away from forty years of routine.”

  “Change is hard.” Kara sprayed a greasy pan with hot water. Droplets fell on the black granite countertops. Her father’s house had granite throughout the bathrooms, kitchen, and bar. Only the best. Drug money. “I left behind a whole life when I moved out here, so I understand.”

  Flora’s penetrating gaze never left her face. “The question is why. There’s more to it than a bad love affair, isn’t there? Women like you don’t leave town because of a man.”

  “Well, I did. It’s as simple as that,” Kara said.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Kara scrubbed the bottom of a saucepan with extra vigor. What had the marshal advised if people pushed about your past? Stick with your story.

  “I worked with him, and it was too hard to see him every day after all that had happened between us,” Kara said. “I chose to leave and start fresh.”

  Flora didn’t push further, perhaps sensing that she would get nowhere.

  “Running away is sometimes the only choice,” Flora said. “I ran away from my life when I was sixteen years old. I never looked back.”

  Kara put the last of the dishes on the drying rack and sat across from Flora in the breakfast booth. “Why?”

  Flora pushed a lock of hair behind one ear. “I grew up in a little town on the Oregon coast called Legley Bay. It was provincial, especially back then in the sixties and seventies. When I was in high school, I got pregnant. The father was a young man I’d been in love with my whole life. Dax Rice.”

  Flora’s voice quieted as she continued. “He was the most mesmerizing person I’d ever met. Still is, and it’s been forty-five years since I last saw his face. My parents hated him and tried to keep us apart.”

  “Why?”

  “He was poor, and we were not. We were upstanding church members, and his single mother worked at a tavern. We managed to sneak around anyway, and one thing led to another. When I told my parents I was pregnant, they sent me to a place run by nuns. I was to remain there for the remainder of my pregnancy and once the baby was born, put it up for adoption. After everything was neatly put away, I was supposed to come back to my life like nothing had happened.” Flora paused for a moment as she sipped from her teacup. “I don’t like to talk about it.”

  Why was she telling the story? Kara had a feeling it was leading up to something.

  “I didn’t get a chance to tell Dax where I was going, or that I was pregnant. They just whisked me away in the middle of the night. They told everyone in town that I went to take care of a sick relative. I’m not exaggerating that I was a prisoner. The nuns wouldn’t even let me send Dax a letter. Right around my due date, I went into labor and gave birth to a healthy baby boy. They didn’t let me hold him.” Flora’s voice vibrated with emotion, but she continued. “After they delivered him, I started hemorrhaging. They had to do a full hysterectomy to stop the bleeding, which, obviously, destroyed any possibility of having another baby.”

  Flora turned a spoon around and around in the teacup. “My parents came to get me and took me home a few weeks later. The minute my parents fell asleep, I snuck out my window and ran all the way out to Dax’s house. All I wanted was to tell him what had happened. And, to see him. I was so terribly desperate to see him.”

  Kara realized she was holding her breath. “But he wasn’t there.”

  “No, he wasn’t. The house had burned to the ground. I panicked. Had he been inside? Had Betty, his mother? But no, thank God. My father and some of his cronies had run them out of town. Burned the house first, so they’d have no place to live, and then threatened physical harm if they didn’t leave immediately.”

  “And you never saw him again?” Kara asked.

  “No. I took all the cash from the shoebox my father kept in his office and all the clothes I could fit into my suitcase, and then walked to the bus stop. I bought a one-way ticket to Los Angeles.”

  “Did your parents try to find you?”

  “If they did, I never knew. When I applied for work, I used a new name. I was now Flora Smith. It was easier to disappear in those days.”

  “Eventually, I started working with the Mullens. Mrs. Mullen was pregnant with Brody then, and she needed a nanny willing to live in and take care of the house and the baby.” She stared into her tea cup like there were answers in the tea leaves. “I wasn’t sure about the job—about caring for a baby. The thought of the little boy I’d had to give away haunted me. There hasn’t been a day since that I haven’t thought about him. But, my pragmatic nature took over, and I took the job anyway. It was a chance for me to escape poverty. I’ve always been a good judge of character, and I knew the Mullens were good people. When Brody was born, and I held him for the first time, I realized that God had sent me there for a reason. Caring for this sweet baby was part of my healing. Lance came two years later and added to my joy. Mrs. Mullen worked a lot back then, but between the two of us, we raised them to be wonderful men. Not that there weren’t some moments when Brody was a teenager that we both wanted to tear our hair out, but I�
��ll save those stories for some other time.” She chuckled and shook her head in obvious amusement. “The boys have been like my own children. Mrs. Mullen was never the type to be jealous. She often said when the three of us were sitting in the bleachers at one of Brody’s games that ‘no kid ever suffered from too many people loving them.’ ” Flora shifted her gaze to the window. “But with this diagnosis, I’ve started thinking about Dax. Why haven’t I tried to find him? Why did I walk away from love? And, of course, about my little boy. Where is he? What kind of life did he have? Did he ever search for me?” Flora looked back to Kara. “I’ve been too ashamed to tell anyone about what I did. It’s been my secret for forty-four years.”

  “Why now?”

  “Because I’m afraid I might die without knowing the answers,” Flora said. “But that’s why it has to be you. I don’t want the Mullens to know anything about this.”

  It was Kara’s turn to look out the window. The weather outside was damp and gray, but the roar of waves never ceased. Ebb and flow. Cycles of life. Seasons.

  “You know, I’ve never loved another man besides Dax,” Flora said. “It was safer that way. If I never allowed anyone in, I wouldn’t have to lose them.”

  “Do you still feel that way?” Kara asked.

  “No. I see now that I should’ve been open to another love. It was only cowardice that kept me from trying. Don’t ever let your fears win, Kara. Because when you’re suddenly an old lady, and you realize your life is mostly finished, you’ll think of all the things you didn’t do because you were afraid. The awful truth will be impossible to avoid: the biggest threat to our happiness is the fear itself. Our fear is the boogeyman in the closet.”

  Kara swallowed the lump in the back of her throat. The boogeyman in her closet had been real. The monster in the closet was her own father.

  “I want to find them. Dax and my little boy. I just want to know what happened to them—if they’ve had a good life. But I don’t know where to start.”

  “We could hire a private detective,” Kara said.

  “Maybe one that specializes in adoptions?”

  “Yes, I’m sure there are agencies like that. But, are you truly prepared for answers?”

  “I have to know,” Flora said. “Even if it breaks my heart all over again.”

  “It’s better to know the truth, even if it hurts,” Kara said. A seagull perched on the railing outside and stared at them with one accusing eye.

  At first, when the officers had asked her questions about what she knew about her father, she had said nothing. But as the months wore on, memories surfaced. Without context, they had seemed benign: phone calls in the middle of the night, weeks where her father disappeared without notice, strange visitors to her father’s study. Clues she did not see, but were there just the same.

  Flora reached across the table and squeezed Kara’s wrist. “My first few years in L.A., I grieved for the life I thought I would have. I missed Dax. I missed my baby. I even missed my parents, despite their betrayal. But I got through it. You will too.”

  “I hope so.” Kara forced a smile.

  “Mrs. Mullen’s grieving her old life.”

  “Brody says she’s depressed.”

  “She is. I thought she’d be better by now, but between the loss of her husband and her work, it was too much change. She needs a new purpose.”

  “Like a job?” Kara asked.

  “Maybe. Or, a new love. I don’t want her to make the same mistake I did. I don’t want her to waste an opportunity if a nice man comes along. Which he has.” The seagull looked at them with one eye. Flora tapped the glass window. He didn’t budge.

  “He has?”

  “Yes. Doctor Waller. You haven’t met him yet, but he’s quite attractive and extremely smart. He likes her.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because of the number of house calls he’s made here since she broke her leg.”

  “That’s a good indication.” Kara smiled. “I didn’t even know doctors made house calls any longer.” Outside, the seagull flew away.

  “I’ll spend some time this afternoon making some inquiries into detective agencies.” Kara’s curiosity was piqued. She couldn’t wait to see what they could find.

  “Good. Now that we’ve got our plan, let me teach you how to make the perfect salad.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Brody

  Brody tapped the breakfast tray perched on his mother’s lap. “Mom, can you just eat a little bacon? Or a few bites of an egg?”

  “I’m sorry, Brody, but these are awful. They’re dry as a bone and the bacon’s burned.”

  “Yeah, I think maybe I had the pan on too high.” His attempt at making breakfast had been a disaster. The pan he’d used for the bacon was ruined. He rose from the bed and opened the shades. A soft light filtered through the window. Finally, the sun had appeared. Blue sea stretched as far as the human eye could see.

  His mother’s eyes were clearer today. Doctor Waller had come by yesterday evening to check on her and had decreased the dosage of pain medication. “How’s the pain, Mom? Doc said to give you more if you needed it.”

  “No. I’m feeling much better, sweetie. I don’t like that loopy feeling on the drugs. I have no idea what I said to Kara yesterday, but I have a feeling it was embarrassing.”

  He grimaced, remembering. “You told her I was in need of a wife.”

  “Oh, dear. Sorry about that. Although you are.” She winced as she tried to adjust the pillows behind her.

  “Mom, let me get those.” Brody helped her sit up and stacked another pillow on top of the two already there.

  “Thank you. That’s better.” She touched her hair. When had she let it get so gray? She had always been meticulous about her appearance. “I’m hoping Kara can help me get cleaned up today.”

  “I’ll let her know when she comes down this morning.” He’d tiptoed by her bedroom around six that morning, careful not to wake her. “I told her she didn’t have to officially start her day until eight.”

  “That’s reasonable.”

  “Which is why I made you breakfast,” he said.

  His mother didn’t seem to be listening. She stared past him at the window. “The sun came out.”

  “Yes, finally.”

  “Will it be warm enough to go out to the patio today?” she asked.

  “I think so. We can bundle you up.” Outside? This was a good sign. He set the tray on the dresser and sat in the soft armchair by the window. The colors in the room reflected the landscape outside the window: soft blues and grays with a splash of green in pillows and blankets. His mother hadn’t asked for anything, so he’d had the decorator make the room soft and comfortable, but elegant at the same time.

  She reached for his hand. “I know I haven’t been easy to be around since your dad died.”

  “Not hard, Mom. You just haven’t been yourself.”

  She nodded. “It’s been two years. Enough time for me to get back to living. He would’ve wanted that.”

  “Sure.” He couldn’t imagine his father wanting anything but for the love of his life to be happy. Still, the thought of her without him felt wrong. After he and Lance had left home, the two of them had seemed to have fallen more deeply in love.

  “Doctor Waller asked me out on a date last month.”

  “What? A date? With Jackson’s dad?”

  She smiled. “He’s not just Jackson’s dad, Brody.”

  “Well, I know, but that’s who he is to me.”

  “I said no, in case you were wondering,” she said. “Which has made it awkward now that he’s treating me.”

  Brody shook his head in disgust. What was Doc thinking? Hitting on his mom?

  “But I’m thinking of saying yes. If he asks again,” she said.

  “Mom. Why would you do that?”

  “I like him. And I’m tired of living at half-mast.”

  A sailing reference? She’d sailed with his dad. That was their thin
g. Doc Waller didn’t sail. He didn’t play sports either. He was an intellectual, a doctor. Well, he did run marathons, but still.

  His mother was an intellectual.

  He didn’t like this. No way. This was not happening.

  “How would you feel about that?” she asked.

  “I would feel...I would feel...not good.” He threw his hands up in the air. “I mean, Mom, why would you want to date him? He’s been a widower for thirteen years or something. That’s a clue that there’s something wrong with him.”

  “He was loyal to her memory. We’ve discussed it. And, he regrets it now. He wishes he’d put himself out there. Now that he’s facing retirement, he realizes he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life alone.”

  “You guys talked about that?”

  “Yes, last month. I ran into him at the bookstore. We had coffee. Chatted.”

  “Chatted? I see.”

  “And since I broke my leg, he’s been here a lot. As Flora said, more than most doctors would be.”

  “That’s because he knows Jackson and I are best friends.”

  She tilted her head with an indulgent smile. “Darling, not everything’s about you.”

  “What? I know that.”

  “Well, anyway, I wanted to ask you how you felt about it before I went any further.”

  “I feel like you’ve already made up your mind.” He went to the window and fiddled with the cord that hung from the shades.

  “Because I was hoping you’d have a different reaction.”

  He twisted the cord around his finger. Make a logical case. She responds to logic. “Mom, think about what happens if you date for a while and then you break up. What does that do to Jackson and me? Our friendship, which goes back twelve years, has to take precedence.”

  “It’s a valid point. I hadn’t really thought of that.”

  Brody untied the cord from his finger and perched on the side of the bed. “I just don’t think it’s the best idea for the first guy you date after dad to be Doctor Waller. That’s all.”

  “You were so close with your dad. I understand how profound the loss is for you, as it is for me. We were best friends for forty plus years. I know he’s disappointed in me—the way I’m wallowing in self-pity.” She touched the side of Brody’s face. The loving way she looked at him brought back memories of late nights when he was a child. She’d have missed his bedtime because of a work trip or an evening meeting. He’d wake to her to her sitting on the side of the bed watching him sleep. Go back to sleep Brody.