But a flight of concrete steps with an iron railing denied all of that. These days when I would climb those stairs—there were seventeen of them—I would think about the enormous barrier they were to Luke and to others like him. What was it like to suddenly find yourself confined to only a portion of the world, especially when once upon a time the whole place had been yours? No wonder his family had had a hard time dealing with it. I sort of did too. We were probably all a little guilty of idolizing him, then all of a sudden our god not only had clay feet, but crippled ones.
I checked my cell phone for messages. I had felt it vibrating during breakfast but had ignored it. As expected, there was a message from Corrine demanding details. There was also one from Brian asking to get together. He was really nice so what was I going to do about him? Guilt was not one of your most romantically motivating emotions. Sighing I returned my phone to my purse.
Luke wheeled back into the great room, and a burst of heat pulsated intensely between my legs when I saw him. Embarrassed, I stood up quickly. His khakis had been replaced with jeans but everything else was the same, and he looked scrumptious. I swallowed hard as if that could tamp down my hungry need to kiss him deeply.
“Ready?” I said in a voice made creaky by desire.
“Let’s roll,” Luke replied.
It was late morning when we arrived at the Galleria, so although it was a Friday and kind of the start of the weekend, the parking lot was relatively empty as were the stores. We began my gift-quest at Macy’s in the men’s department among a kaleidoscope of shirts that must appeal to any and every style. Luke, however, remained skeptical.
“I’m telling you, Rachel,” he repeated his earlier warning. “You better go with gift cards. Preferably generic ones, like Visa or American Express, and let your cousins buy what they like.”
“That’s no fun,” I replied. “Who wants to see an envelope under the tree on Christmas morning?”
I was pondering a nice powder blue oxford and carried it over to a rack of ties to look for a good match.
“Have you met any teenagers?” asked Luke incredulously as he followed me.
I would be meeting his and very soon. The Saturday after Thanksgiving I was invited to Luke’s house for dinner and Luke’s children would be there, although Luke Jr. didn’t really count as a teenager anymore. I was nervous to meet them but eager at the same time.
“This blue goes with everything,” I said about the shirt. “It’ll be perfect for church, or a job interview. Maybe for a nice date with a jacket.”
Luke shook his head dubiously.
“What?” I asked, settling on a dark blue tie to be on the safe side. “You wear button-down shirts all the time. Light blue ones too. And you’re very GQ.”
“I’m also old enough to be your cousins’ father,” he replied.
“Are you saying that you never went clothes shopping for your kids?”
“When I was buying Garanmials, yes. Anything after that, I didn’t dare, not without them.”
I laid the shirt and tie on one of the display tables, and then searched my purse for my tiny notebook where I had written down the shirt sizes of my cousins, Stewart and Gerard.
“What’s that?” Luke asked.
“Oh, I got Aunt Jean to tell me the boys’ sizes and I wrote them down in my little shopping book,” I explained.
“Shopping book?”
“Yeah, I keep it in my glove compartment and that way I’m prepared in case I find a great sale or something.”
“Let me see that,” Luke said taking the notebook from my hand. “Amazing,” he chuckled, as he flipped through the pages. “And it’s actually alphabetized too.”
“What?” I asked. “Is it weird?”
“I don’t see my name in here.”
“It’s been twenty years,” I said grabbing my notebook back. “I don’t know your size anymore.”
“You could ask me.”
“Too crass. I’ll just have to snoop around, because we know I can’t ask your mother to tell me.”
“She wouldn’t know anyway,” Luke laughed. “I’m old enough to buy my own clothes. I think we should at least try the Gap,” he added. “I’d feel a little better for Stu and Gerard.”
“Stewart,” I corrected him, returning the shirt I had selected to its display table and the tie to its rack, even though I wasn’t convinced that the GAP was better than Macy’s. I supposed we could always come back. “He’s very particular about his name.”
“I’m telling you,” said Luke returning to his original argument. “Gift cards are the way to go.”
We browsed other stores along the way to the GAP. In a little boutique I wanted to try on winter hats and fell in love with a purple one that had a narrow low brim reminiscent of the 1920s-style. Preening in front of the mirror I admired the sultry look the Cloche-shape gave my eyes.
“You’re not seriously considering that, are you?” asked Luke.
“I think it makes me look sexy,” I replied, doing a little flapper dance step. “All I need is a feather boa or some beads and I’d have the perfect look. Bernice bobs her hair,” I added referring to the F. Scott Fitzgerald short story.
“Admittedly I don’t know much about women’s fashion,” Luke said. “But a hundred years ago?”
“Not quite a hundred. And anyway, everything old is new again.”
“Dude,” interjected a man who apparently had also been brought into the shop by the woman he was with. “You might as well let your lady have what she wants ‘cause she’s going to get it anyway.”
“I think you’re right,” Luke grinned at the man as if they were kindred spirits.
“The hat looks fabulous on you,” said the man’s companion.
“Thanks!” I replied.
By the time we left the store, I had the new hat and a scarf, which though it fell short of being a feather boa, was perfectly matched to the hat in color. And someone had mistaken me for Luke’s lady.
Around one o’clock we had lunch at a burger joint in the food court. There were more shoppers by now and at lunchtime the food court was busy, but Luke secured us a good table and we had a nice lunch of burgers and fries, and Diet Cokes—my treat.
When we finished the food I got up and cleared the table, while Luke checked his Blackberry.
“Are they okay without you?” I asked when I returned to the table.
“Looks like it,” he replied, clipping the device back to his belt and slipping his reading glasses back into the small pouch that hung off the front of his chair behind his legs. “Shouldn’t you check too? I heard your phone buzzing.”
“I will later,” I shrugged. “I’m not that wired. You don’t have to answer just because the phone rings.”
“That’s aggravating,” said Luke. “What’s that Fatal Attraction line? I don’t like being ignored.”
“‘I’m not gonna be ignored,’” I corrected him.
“Any the who, I guess it’s my Daddy-training. You never know when it’s an emergency, so at least you have to check and see.”
Even if the children lived in Virginia. He seemed to be a good father, and I really hoped his kids would like me. It wasn’t like I was a threat or something. I was just a friend, not a girlfriend aiming to take their mother’s place. Even though I could be mistaken for his lady, and based on last night worse.
“So where to next, Santa?” asked Luke as he lifted himself briefly to shift his weight.
“I was thinking of buying Corrine’s gift. You can help me pick it out since you know her.”
“Oh boy,” Luke replied sardonically. “And if she hates it you can blame me I suppose.”
“We’ll never know.”
“Au contraire ma chère. Corrine’s definitely the type to let you know what she thinks, that much I learned immediately.”
“Luke,” I started in a new direction.
“Yes?” he answered, eyeing me sensing the change.
“Do you think I’m b
oring?”
“What?” he replied frowning.
“Boring. You know, because I plan things. Like my shopping book. Do you think I’m too predictable? That I lack spontaneity?”
“This line of questioning seems pretty spontaneous. I certainly wouldn’t have predicted it.”
“I’m being serious, Luke.”
“So am I.”
“You think my book is a little weird, admit it. Who goes around with a shopping list that includes collar sizes and inseam lengths?”
“Someone who cares about getting it right, Rachel,” Luke smiled warmly. “And no, that’s not boring. In fact it’s kinda sweet.”
“You don’t think it means I’m too anal?”
“And thus boring? No. Isn’t that what makes you a good counselor? Attention to detail? Then putting it all together, planning in other words?”
I smiled a little.
“And personally,” Luke continued. “It feels easy being with you, because I know you’re looking out for me too.”
“You don’t need anybody to look out for you,” I said.
“Yes, I do,” he replied. “Everybody does, Rachel. And it’s better when people know how to do it right. You take the time to learn.”
Made self-conscious by Luke’s assessment, I sipped my remaining Diet Coke for something to do.
“So what brought all that up?” he asked. “Who told you you were boring?”
“Nobody in particular,” I answered.
“The beautiful truth, Rachel.”
I looked at him.
“Corrine?” he pressed. “My mother? Did my mother say—”
“Robert said I was,” I interrupted him.
“Your ex?”
“Yes,” I nodded.
“So just how long have you been keeping the ultimate shopping list?” Luke teased gently.
“It wasn’t just that.”
“Look,” Luke turned serious. “People can say a lot of awful things in the heat of battle. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Walk on Water “It wasn’t in the heat of it as you say. Things were very calm. There was nothing to fight over anymore. It was kind of a post-script. The epilogue, so to speak.”
“Then Robert’s an idiot.”
I thought of poor Robert, of how I ignored his calls almost all the time now.
“You can’t say that,” I replied defensively for Robert’s sake. “You don’t know him. You never even met him.”
“Well if he thinks—”
“Why didn’t you come to my wedding, Luke? I came to yours.”
It was as if the question had popped out of me of its own volition. I couldn’t believe it. The reason couldn’t possibly matter and yet it did, and here it was, on a little table in a crowded food court on a Friday afternoon when we were Christmas shopping.
“You didn’t invite me,” replied Luke.
“Yes I did. I sent—”
“If you mean that invitation to Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Sterling and anybody else who might like to show up, I don’t count that.”
“And family, Luke. The invitation said ‘and family.’”
“I was your best friend, Rachel.”
“You were married, Luke.”
“So you decided I couldn’t be both?”
“By that time yes.”
We were both quiet, Jingle Bell Rock filling the silent space.
“You’re probably right,” Luke said. “Maybe that’s why I didn’t come. I didn’t want to meet my replacement.”
“I was one of your bridesmaids,” I reminded him.
“That was Christina’s idea, not mine. She said you wanted to be in the wedding.”
Yes, I had wanted to be in the wedding. I had wanted to be the friggin’ bride! Luke must have known that.
“I guess you weren’t looking out for me then, were you?” I smiled crookedly.
We looked at each other.
“I could have done a better job, yes,” he agreed. “That particular shade of pink was definitely not your color.”
“I absolutely hated the shoes.”
“Perhaps I’m the idiot, Rachel.”
Now I genuinely felt bad about bringing it up. What difference did it make?
“How ‘bout we say no one is,” I made a peace offering. “It’s water under the bridge, right?”
“Maybe now it is,” he replied.
I smiled again, and it was brighter this time. Truth was beautiful.
EIGHTEEN
We made it back to Luke’s house by a little after four. For a day that had started out so bleakly, it had turned out so brilliantly. I opened the trunk of my Corolla to put away my many bags which contained gifts for: Stewart, Gerard, Corrine, and Aunt Jean, not to mention my new very purple hat and scarf. I had no idea when I would ever wear it, but I loved it. It was different and bold, making a statement without even being red.
“How ‘bout a homemade happy hour?” Luke suggested as I was closing the trunk.
Yes! I said in my head. He wasn’t sending me home yet. This beautiful day was not over.
“Sure,” I said casually as I hummed the U2 tune in my head.
Inside the house we mutually excused ourselves for what polite people called a comfort break, but what Luke adorably called going to see a man about a horse. Maybe it wasn’t all that adorable really, but just me adoring him. In the second bathroom after I had finished my business I checked the state of my face in the mirror. Having had a mostly sleepless night before an inevitable crash had to be coming, but for the life of me I couldn’t see a sign of it. My eyes were bright and my complexion was actually rosy although maybe that was still the blush.
Or maybe it was simply the perpetual state of sexual arousal I found myself in whenever I was around Lucas Sterling. What had felt like a need to pee was in truth another need. I was full all right. Pressed down, and shaken together, and running over. It was a totally sacrilegious use of these words, describing what it felt like, but it was also totally ironic, and fitting somehow, that the words should come from the Biblical Book of Luke.
And what was I going to do about it anyway? Live in constant anticipation of the next hello-goodbye kiss we would share? Hope his hand would accidently brush across my butt again? Go to bed with Brian and see if that would help?
At least now I knew for sure that my wedding day had mattered to him. As if Robert could have ever replaced him, but I was a little glad that Luke didn’t seem to know that. Even married with children he had missed our friendship. Enough to actually resent the group wedding invitation. How funny was that? Maybe I was a little pleased with myself for that little spontaneous outburst at lunch. If I had thought about it before I would have never asked.
Back in the family room I stood looking out the French doors that led out to the deck. The overcast day would get to night quickly, and although I had taken up enough of Luke’s day, I supposed I could stay here until rush hour was over. When I got home I would call Mommy and hear about her day. Then if Corrine was home tonight, maybe I’d get to go over the events of my day with her and see what she thought it all meant. I was still mostly avoiding the subject of Luke with Mommy, given that she never failed to have a discouraging word about the situation.
“Merlot okay?” asked Luke behind me.
“Always,” I replied.
He was in the kitchen now, and I joined him, taking a seat at the bar.
“This is the wine you bought,” he informed me as he uncorked the bottle.
His cardigan was gone as was his belt.
“Oh cool,” I said. “I was wondering if it was good.”
“We shall soon see.”
Setting the opened bottle on the bar, he went to one of the lower cupboards for two wine glasses and set them on the bar too.
“We should let it breathe a little,” Luke said about the wine. “But I gotta get a break from this chair. Mind bringing mine over to the sofa?”
“Sure thing,” I replied.
&nbs
p; Parking his wheelchair at the end of the couch, Luke transferred and then pulled a lever to raise the footrest. His left leg shook. Taking a deep breath he released it slowly, the way they instructed in Yoga class. The shaking stopped.
“What’s your pleasure?” he asked after a time. “TV or Radio?”
You, I selfishly thought as I was pouring wine into our glasses.
“Oh music for sure,” I said bringing his glass to him.
“Not NPR?” he queried taking his glass, touching my hand in the process, and sending a little electrical current up my arm.
“I’ve been irresponsible all day why be grown-up now?”
“Is that what you call it?” said Luke raising his glass for me to tap mine with his before taking a drink.
“You said yourself it was playing hooky,” I reminded him.
“Touché,” he replied settling more into the sofa. “You mind playing DJ since you’re uh…standing up?”
“That’s a bit of a lame excuse,” I popped back before thinking, regretting it instantly.
But Luke was laughing.
“Hey!” he chided me. “I’m the only one who gets to make gimp jokes. Now go play me some music before I turn you over my knee.”
I would never make jokes I wanted to say, but it seemed like that would be making too much of the comment. I never liked it when he referred to himself as a gimp or used the word period. To me it was a term as derogatory as a racial slur.
“How do I know what to play?” I asked disconnecting the iPod from the docking station and bringing it to him.
“Just pick something, Rachel,” replied Luke closing his eyes indolently.
I scrolled through the many playlists with their various names: cardio 1, cardio 2, Earl Klugh, easy listening, John Williams, etc. Then I came to the title: Rachel’s Dinner. He must have made a special playlist just for that evening. It was like a Rachel’s Favorites reprise. How had he remembered I wondered, thinking about the Isley Brothers’ song. After all that had happened, all that he had been through, he had not forgotten. And there was no playlist named for Stephanie-the-teacher.
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