“I can’t, no.” Kara laughed.
“Of course, he wasn’t dumb. He was brilliant and funny. He used to make me laugh, even when I was mad at him. Not to say he was perfect. Or me. But, we were perfect together. I took that for granted when he was alive. We were so young when we got together; I couldn’t remember what life was life before him. It never once occurred to me that I would lose him. Not so young, anyway.”
“It’s not until someone or something is gone that you realize what you had.”
“I’m sorry you know that already.” Janet paused as she put on lipstick, then blotted it with a tissue. “Is it because of your mom’s death?”
“That, and other things,” Kara said.
Change the subject.
“Your husband was my favorite announcer,” Kara said. “The voices of the announcers during a game are soothing to me, almost like home.”
Simon Mullen had played for Ohio and had gone on to play in the AFL for Dallas, winning two Super Bowls during his seven-year career. After he retired, he became a sportscaster. With his smoky voice and fantastic sense of humor, he’d been a fan favorite.
“He always made it feel like he was talking just to me,” Kara said. “I loved how he knew so many details about the players.”
“Simon had that quality in real life too,” Janet said. “If we went to a cocktail party, he’d know everyone’s life story by the end of the night. Meanwhile, I would have managed to get into several political arguments.”
They decided together that a knit dress was the best thing for her to wear, given the cast. By the time they had her dressed, it was almost eleven.
Kara grabbed the crutches from the corner of the room. “I think you’re ready to try these. What do you think?”
“I’m game. Especially if it means I can get out of this room. I’m sick of it in here.”
For the next few minutes, she had Janet practice walking across the room using the crutches. Janet picked them up easily and was soon making good time from the bed to the door. “I think you’re ready.”
Brody appeared in the doorway. “Mom, the stylist’s here. I had her wait in the kitchen. Are you using the crutches?”
“Kara insisted,” Janet said with a triumphant lilt in her voice.
AFTER SHE HAD JANET settled in the kitchen with the hairdresser, Kara realized she hadn’t yet seen Flora that morning. When she asked, Brody said she’d gone into town.
Janet chatted with the young stylist about what she wanted done with her hair while Kara and Brody talked through the schedule for the next few days. They had just finished when Flora came into the kitchen carrying several bags.
“What’s going on in here?” Flora asked. “It’s like Grand Central Station.”
“I’m having my hair done,” Janet said.
“It’s about time,” Flora said.
Brody excused himself. His trainer was waiting downstairs in the gym. She was horrified to realize she didn’t want him to leave.
As he passed by her, he whispered into her ear, “The muffins are good, which means I’m right. You are a witch.”
Before she could think of a clever response, he was out the door. A witch? What did he mean by that?
The muffins. She had forgotten all about them. He had remembered to take them out of the oven. He’d even stacked them onto an attractive serving platter.
“What are these?” Flora pointed at the stack.
“I made them for breakfast. They’re a healthy alternative to the traditional bran muffin,” Kara said.
Flora glared at the platter. Muffins had not been on the list of Brody approved meals.
“Brody doesn’t care for bran muffins,” Flora said.
“Or raisins,” Kara said under her breath.
“But he ate one,” Janet said as the stylist wrapped a piece of foil around a clump of hair.
Flora picked up the apparently abhorrent muffin and gave it a sniff worthy of Minnie. “Well, they smell decent. But he’s not supposed to have processed sugar.”
“I sweetened them with honey,” Kara said. “And raisins.”
“He doesn’t like raisins.” Flora nibbled on the top of the muffin.
Yes, we’ve established that.
“Not bad. I guess. Surprisingly moist for a hippie muffin.” Flora popped a larger bite into her mouth.
“I used carrots as a filler,” Kara said.
“I loved them,” Janet said. “I ate two.”
“You did?” Flora turned to look at Janet. “I can’t get you to eat cake, but you’ll eat this?” She held the remainder of her muffin like a pitcher about to throw a baseball.
“I’m feeling better today,” Janet said. “Plus, I love your cake, Flora.”
“You could’ve fooled me,” Flora said.
“Flora, I’m sure they’re not as good as what you would make,” Kara said.
Flora crossed behind the kitchen and picked up the burned pan. “What did you do to my pan?”
“Brody attempted to make Janet’s breakfast,” Kara said.
“I told you he couldn’t cook for himself,” Flora said.
“Or anyone else,” Janet said.
He could learn if he had to. She kept that thought to herself.
“Kara, you’ll have to make sure this doesn’t happen again.” Flora gazed into the burned pan with a mournful expression. “These are the best money can buy.”
Kara couldn’t decide if she was irritated or amused. She’d heard stories from several exasperated girlfriends of mothers treating their grown sons as if they were still children, but she’d never witnessed it herself.
“Don’t worry about it, Kara. Brody can get another,” Janet said. “Flora, Kara’s taking over breakfast from now on.”
Flora dropped the pan in the sink and wandered over to the window. “I’m quickly becoming irrelevant.”
“What? No, of course not,” Janet said. “This is just a temporary situation. Just until you’re back on your feet.”
Kara took the cue from Janet. “Right. I’ll be gone before you know it.”
Flora seemed not to hear them. She continued to gaze out the window. “They’re postponing my surgery until my lungs are totally clear. Who knows how long that could be? My whole life, all I’ve done is take care of this family. I don’t know who I am if I don’t have my job anymore.”
Kara understood. Who was she now that her old life was no more?
Janet spoke softly. “Flora, we’re both learning how to navigate this new season in our lives. I haven’t been doing a particularly good job at it, but Brody’s right. It’s time for you to retire and enjoy your life.”
“I enjoyed my life. Just the way it was,” Flora said. “What am I supposed to do? Sit around eating bonbons?”
Janet looked over at Kara with a helpless expression before she burst into laughter. “Bonbons? Are those a real thing?”
Flora turned to them with a cross expression on her face. “I wouldn’t know. But Kara might. She’s from the east coast.”
Kara chuckled. “It’s just a term for small treats covered in chocolate.”
“I knew she’d know. I’m going to rest now. All I’m good for now.” Flora picked up a muffin and trounced out of the kitchen.
She’d taken a muffin. A compliment or insult? Kara couldn’t be certain.
Chapter Twenty
Brody
It had been a little over two weeks since Kara Eaton had entered their lives, and Brody had to admit she was exactly what they’d needed. She’d somehow convinced Flora to let go of her duties. Kara was doing all the cooking and slowly taking over the running of the household, including the supervision of the cleaning staff and landscape company, plus all the shopping. Kara and Doc Waller had suggested an antidepressant that had done wonders for his mother. After only two weeks it showed promise of making a big difference. Doc had explained that its full effect could take up to six weeks, but her color had returned. She was dressed and out of her room
every day. She and Kara had an ongoing Scrabble game. Just yesterday he’d heard them excitedly discussing a historical mystery they were both reading.
He should be happy. But he wasn’t. Kara drove him batty. She was just always there, looking lovely and smelling of flowers and lighting up rooms with her gorgeous smile. Regardless of what she wore, jeans or cotton dresses or sweatshirts, she looked like she’d just walked out of the pages of a beauty magazine. He was usually having his coffee when she bounced into the kitchen with flushed cheeks and hair as smooth as silk down her back. All day long she bustled around the house, taking care of anything that came her way, competent and assured.
There was nothing sexier than a smart, capable woman who knew her own mind and wasn’t afraid to tell you exactly what she thought. Yet, she was kind too, and nurturing, with a sophisticated sense of humor. She came home in the evenings from her dance class dressed in tight workout clothes, leaving little to the imagination, all sweaty and disheveled, and then whipped up dinner like it was as easy as breathing. He made up excuses to come into the kitchen while she cooked dinner. Next thing he knew, he was at the counter sipping wine while she chopped and sautéed until the air exploded with savory scents. They never ran out of subjects to talk about, from food to politics to books.
And, that low, silky voice of hers. If only he could hear her bubbly laugh next to his ear as his hands roamed her curves. If only he could make her...never mind that.
Yes, he should be happy. Instead, he was driven to distraction. Kara Eaton was the perfect example of how a woman messed up everything.
That morning, Kara waved a spatula at him while making eggs. “You seem stressed. You should come to Zumba with me. It’s a great stress reliever.”
“Zumba?” Kara was the stress. Seeing her moving her hips was not going to help.
“What? Are you too chicken?”
“I’m not chicken. I’m a professional athlete.”
“Dancing could be good for your career,” she said.
He rolled his eyes to give the impression that it was neither here nor there to him. Truth be told, he’d go anywhere Kara wanted him to, even at the risk of humiliation. “Fine. I’ll go, but be prepared to get smoked by my prowess.”
She laughed. “Duly noted.”
THAT EVENING, HE STOOD at the back of Miss Rita’s dance studio. Women stood in clumps, conversing. Intermittent shrieks of laughter startled him. Given the modest size of the room, the decibel level seemed disproportionate. His team wasn’t this loud in the locker room before or after a game.
He didn’t know what he’d expected, but he had no idea there were this many women in the entire town of Cliffside, let alone ones that danced. They were all shapes and sizes. As far as he could tell, the ladies didn’t seem bothered whether they were thin or plump or in between. They wore leggings of various lengths, many brightly colored and patterned, and sleeveless workout tops made for moving.
White lights were strung above the mirrors on three sides, creating a magical atmosphere. Kara crouched low to retie her tennis shoes, her ponytail draped over one shoulder. She wore peach-colored leggings that clung to her muscular legs and a black top that slung low in the back. Underneath, a bra with six straps that crisscrossed matched her leggings.
“You nervous?” she asked.
“Hardly.”
A petite blond woman at the front of the class clapped her hands. He recognized her from the grocery store. She’d rung up his groceries just last week. He guessed she was about Kara’s age.
“Welcome to Zumba, everyone. I’m Christina. Do we have anyone new tonight?”
He raised his hand. Every head in the place turned to look at him.
“Great. Welcome. Just do your best. If you can’t figure out the steps, just watch my feet and forget about trying to use your arms. It usually takes a month of steady attendance before it clicks.”
Brody smiled and nodded. What had he gotten himself into? He glanced at Kara. She winked at him.
“You got this,” she said.
“I keep telling you, I’m not nervous.”
“I know. You’re a professional athlete.” Kara grinned at him as the music started.
It was a popular song on the radio charts. He couldn’t remember who sang it, but it had a distinctive beat. And it was fast.
Christina started clapping her hands and moving her feet in a triangular pattern. Up and back. Up and back. The rest of the class did the same. No problem. He could do this. Next Christina moved three steps to the right. One foot went behind the other. He mimicked her, a split second behind everyone else. A gyration of the hips came next. How in the world did they move their hips that way?
Back and forth. Gyrates and hops and kicks and turns. All the ladies were grinning like they were on the best ride at the carnival. Dance songs mixed with Latin music, some faster than others, played one after the other. By the third song, the ladies were gyrating and bumping bottoms and making thrusting movements at one another. Holy crap. This was the weirdest exercise class he’d ever seen.
By the fifth song, he was soaked in sweat. He should have worn spandex pants like the women. During a short break between songs, Christina and the rest of the class sipped from their water bottles and wiped their faces. He did the same as he stole a glance at Kara. She sparkled as bright as the lights above the mirrors with dewy skin, bright eyes, and flushed cheeks.
He didn’t have time to enjoy her for long. They were off again. This time with a pop song that started at a slow tempo. That didn’t last long. Ten seconds later, they were hopping and skipping across the dance floor. It was a back and forth and a little hop in the middle that made Kara look like a beautiful doe prancing across a meadow. He, on the other hand, was a giant oaf amongst fairies. A head taller than everyone and as wide as two women put together, he was also a step behind everyone else. Not a good idea to look in the mirror.
Next, Christina threw her hands in the air and ran in place with high knees. Yes! Finally, something he could do with ease. For one thing, it didn’t require any prancing or darting. But then, out of nowhere, Christina whooped a tribal yell and started running around the room high-fiving her students. The rest of the class followed. Suddenly, the room was a beehive of women weaving in and out and around one another, slapping hands like it was the most natural act in the world.
Kara appeared next to him with her hands in the air. “Brody, high-five me.”
He did so. Then, another woman jumped in front of him, and another. Oddly moved, he fought against the lump that had formed in his throat. The room pulsed with energy and music and love. Regardless of their skin tone, body type, or age, they moved with the joy of being alive. They accepted one another without judgment or question. He suspected these women could find a solution to world peace if they were given half the chance.
When everyone was back to their places and back to gyrating, he looked over at Kara. She flashed her smile and the room brightened and warmed and he knew, deep down, that he could deny it all he wanted, but from the moment Kara had walked into his life, he’d had no chance of escape. This woman condensed his world to her. Just Kara. All the time.
The question was, what the heck was he going to do about it?
Chapter Twenty-one
Kara
After leaving messages at several large private detective agencies with no responses back, Kara called a listing that appeared to be a lone proprietor. A man with a rough, husky voice answered on the second ring.
“This is Mike.”
Surprised it wasn’t a machine, she stumbled over her words. “Yes, hi, Mike. I’m calling because I need to hire an investigator.”
“Yeah, okay. You’ve called the right place.”
“I don’t have much to go on.” As succinctly as possible, she told him Flora’s story.
“Regarding, Dax Rice, if she knows a name and birth date, that’s better than some. As far as the place they sent her, most of them were shut down years ago. Ho
wever, I can dig around and see what I can find. Closed adoptions are tough, but sometimes the kid’s been looking for his mother and that’ll lead me to him. To be honest, most people do the detective work themselves these days.”
Kara described Flora’s health situation and her lack of computer knowledge. “She feels more comfortable having you do the work.”
He explained his fee structure, and Kara agreed to the terms. They were surprisingly low, considering the number of hours she assumed it would take to find two missing people. They chatted for a few more minutes about other details, and she gave him Flora’s cell number so he could ask her further questions.
After she hung up, Kara sat on the edge of her bed, thinking. Would Mike be able to find traces of a baby born in secret and silence so long ago? They would find out either way.
Kara went down to Flora’s room to fill her in on the conversation. Surprisingly, Flora was resting on the bed, reading a magazine.
Kara gave her the details of the phone call with the detective.
“It’s a long shot, isn’t it?” Flora asked.
“Maybe. But he’s had a lot of luck in the past.”
“I hope I’m doing the right thing.”
“It’s like you said. You have to try,” Kara said as she picked up her stethoscope from the table. “I want to listen to your lungs.” She didn’t say it, but Flora didn’t seem to be getting better. Her lungs were still filled with fluid. Today, she looked pale and limp.
Her fears were confirmed by the rattling noise in Flora’s chest. She would consult with Doctor Waller, but a second course of antibiotic might be necessary. “I want you to rest today.”
“Isn’t that all I do?” Flora asked.
“For now. Soon, though, you’ll be back on your feet.”
Flora turned on her side and stared at the wall. “Doesn’t feel like it.”
Kara perched on the side of the bed and patted Flora’s shoulder. “Pneumonia takes a long time to recover from. I know it’s a drag, but you have to hang in there.”
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