A Little Learning

by Margot Early

  What drew Lauren’s interest surprised him. She was most drawn to several metal sculptures of powerful-looking women. One carried a bow and arrow. It was almost a foot tall and cost a small fortune. “It’s Artemis,” she said. “It reminds me of Mom.”

  He harnessed his self-control, silently praying he wouldn’t have to pay for a reminder of Janine—not this one anyhow. “Tell me how she’s like Mom. Who was Artemis, again?”

  “The Huntress. She was Apollo’s twin. She was a virgin, and when men pursued her she turned them into stags and hunted them with her bow and arrow.”

  Seamus smiled in spite of himself and breathed his relief when she moved to the next statue. “But I like this one better. It’s Freya. She’s the Norse goddess of love. She’s got her lynxes with her. They draw her chariot.”

  Seamus watched his daughter’s eyes caress the statue.

  “I know it’s too much money,” she said resignedly.

  Seamus asked, “Is it what you want?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes shone.

  The gallery owner wrapped it for them, but when they’d settled at their table at the restaurant Lauren had chosen for lunch, she carefully unwrapped it again and set it out to gaze at it. Then, she proceeded to tell her father of Freya’s notoriously licentious behavior until he began to wonder if maybe she wouldn’t have been better off with the virgin goddess, Artemis.

  Recalling the analogy Lauren had drawn, Seamus asked, “You think your mom outran men?”

  “Well, not exactly that. She just…didn’t trust them completely. You know.”

  Janine had died when Lauren was only ten, and yet Lauren had perceived this.

  “She must have trusted you, though,” Lauren said. “I mean…” She frowned, thinking. “Well, not like you’d hurt her. But I don’t think she trusted anyone but herself to protect herself.”

  “I think you’re right about that.” Which was why Janine had bought a handgun.

  Maybe.

  Because one part of him still believed that Janine simply had wanted people to know that she was the kind of person who had a handgun and knew how to use it.

  Lauren smiled at the sculpture of Freya. “She always told me I had to protect myself, that I had to be smart.” The corners of her mouth fell. “I’m not sure I’m so good at that.”

  Seamus was surprised by the maturity of this admission. “Then listen to your father,” he said with a smile. The topic of Janine and the concept of a child protecting herself had the potential to ruin the rest of his day. He tried to think of all the things he’d wanted to tell Lauren today and now he wished that he’d written her a letter, written down all those things. If he spoke them, his words would be less perfect.

  He could only try.

  “Lauren, I want you to remember that you’re a precious individual. You are yourself, and I’m proud of who you are and I like who you are. You never have to try to be like someone else.” He was making a mess of it, he knew. He’d end up getting back to the topic he wanted to avoid, and at this point that could lead onto shaky ground.

  “Like Mom,” Lauren said. “You mean I don’t need to be like Mom, and you don’t want me to be. I know how she was. People always say, ‘Your mom was one tough lady.’ Or, ‘Talk about a strong woman!’ But you don’t want me to be strong. Because you didn’t like her.”

  “I definitely want you to be strong.” Leave it at that, Seamus. Leave it at that. No need to say that Janine had been neither strong nor particularly ladylike.

  No need to say that Lauren was right.

  Or that, as of the day of her death, he hadn’t liked Janine.

  He’d only loved her.

  “You can’t hide it,” Lauren said. “I know how you feel about her.”

  He knew that Lauren was intentionally provoking him. What he didn’t know was why. “Can we drop this?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Sure. You want to forget her and replace her with Rory.”

  “I couldn’t replace your mother, even if I wanted to. She is irreplaceable.”

  “Well, you’ve picked a woman who is pretty much like her. Except Mom never did anything like dance. But she would have done fire-twirling and poi.”

  How well Lauren had known her mother.

  And how little she’d known her.

  “I don’t think Rory is like your mother.” He repeated what he’d said before.

  “Because you wouldn’t want that. Someone who thinks for herself. You don’t even want me thinking for myself.”

  “I do want you thinking for yourself, Lauren. I want you to think hard about the decisions you make. I want you to think before you lie about your age. I want you to think when you pick friends. And, yes, I want you to think for yourself—not just act for yourself.”

  To his surprise, Lauren gazed at him not angrily but with her brow furrowed, as if she’d actually heard him.

  She said, “You think Mom was just acting for herself when she bought a gun.”

  “Pretty much,” he admitted. “Lauren, this is not a good subject for me. I don’t want to get angry, but now I am angry. I’m angry at the way your mother died—because it was a senseless event that should never have happened. It even makes me crazy that there’s no better word than ‘accident’ to describe it. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “No. It was an accident.”

  “It was stupid.”

  The waitress who’d brought their menus neared their table, and he said to her, “We haven’t even looked at them.” He turned back to Lauren. Now that he’d begun, he couldn’t stop himself.

  “It was stupid for her to buy a handgun, with four children in the house. It was stupid for her to carry it around with her. And ultimately, it was colossally stupid to pull that trigger assuming the gun wasn’t loaded, and in a place where a bullet could ricochet with lethal consequences. Accidents are accidents. But what she did was something else.”

  It happened, then.

  Lauren’s eyes filled with tears, and he felt his own eyes sting. He had known he was losing control as it was happening, and still he’d been unable to stop himself from saying these things. He whispered, with some effort to make it right, “Lauren, she was too smart to behave that way. Don’t be like her.” Oh, no, he shouldn’t have said that, either—but he’d needed to say it, and he longed to say more. Don’t be insecure and pigheaded and boastful and reckless.

  Tears ran down Lauren’s face, and she raised her napkin to her cheeks.

  “Lauren,” he said and reached across the table. He touched her forearm, but she shook her head, covering her face.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered back, choked and incoherent. “I’m sorry I made you mad again.”

  We have to stop this, was all he could think. He tried to remember a single good thing to say about Janine, to make up for his torrent of criticism. “I loved it,” he said, “when she made me laugh. And there were times when I even loved her brashness, because that made me laugh, too.”

  “Like when?”

  “Like when we were in a lift line and some jerk coming off a run too fast almost ran her over, and she yelled at him to get a Seeing Eye dog. There were some completely shocked tourists beside us, who were horrified by the fact those words had come from the mouth of this beautiful blond woman.”

  Lauren laughed tearfully into her napkin.

  He said, “I did like it that she would speak her mind. She didn’t hesitate to tell people when she thought they were doing something wrong. She was less afraid of giving offense than of seeing tragic mistakes happen.” Which was an irony to end all ironies.

  Lauren was drying her eyes. She said, “Okay.”

  He didn’t know what that meant. Did it mean, Okay, you loved her? Did it mean that his daughter was now okay?

  After a tactful break of several minutes, the waitress returned to their table, and by then they were ready to order. “Great sculpture,” she said, admiring Freya.

  “She picked it out,” Seamu
s said, “for her birthday.”

  “Good taste! Is this sixteenth?” she asked.

  Lauren smiled and shook her head. “I’m fifteen.”

  *

  RORY WAS BOTH tense and excited as she drove up to the yellow house. She’d spent that morning picking out some of her favorite belly-dance gear to give to Lauren. There were black flare pants with red tassels, an embroidered belt, dangling Bedouin earrings, a coin bra adorned with cowrie shells, a brilliant silk spinning skirt, a black Indian top and some cowrie shell hair ornaments. She had wrapped everything in purple tissue paper and packed it all inside the box her own telemark boots had come in, then wrapped the box in brown paper and tied it with twine interwoven with feathers and beads. Down at the coffeehouse, she’d found the perfect card.

  She loved Lauren, and she wanted Lauren’s friendship and allegiance; she wanted Lauren to want her for a stepmother. It felt imperative to win over the teenager. The other three children seemed to accept her, and seemed glad to have her in their lives. Please let Lauren be happy to have me around.

  As she climbed out of her car, Seuss ran from the back door. One of his ears was half folded over, making him look especially sweet. “Hi, Seuss,” she cried and knelt down to hug the puppy. If things don’t work out with Seamus, she thought, I’ll get another dog.

  Once she had a more permanent home.

  But she wanted things to work out with Seamus and she liked this dog a lot.

  Beau followed Seuss outside. “Hi, Rory.”

  “Hi.” She took the package out of the car.

  “What’d you get her?” Beau asked.

  “It’s a secret until she opens it.”

  “No fair,” he said.

  “That’s life. How’s Seuss doing? His manners seem pretty good. I could tell he was trying hard not to jump on me.”

  “He still does sometimes. He likes to put his paws on my shoulders. The obedience teacher here says I can teach him to do that on command. There are fifteen dogs in the class.”

  “That’s a ton.”

  “Well, there are lots of dogs in Telluride.”

  Rory followed Beau and the puppy through the mudroom. This is where Janine died, she thought again, marveling that the Lees lived here and used this room as though nothing tragic had happened there.

  “Hi,” Seamus greeted her as she entered the kitchen. He hugged her and kissed her and touched her hair, which was loose. “You’re wearing a dress.”

  “I’ve been known to do that.” It was a flowing A-line dress in red. Over it, she wore a wool coat that had been her grandmother’s, and on her feet were ankle-high boots. There was still snow on the ground, both in Sultan and in Telluride.

  Lauren entered the kitchen. She wore a letter jacket that Rory assumed was her own until Lauren came over and said, “Look what my grandparents sent me. It was my mom’s.”

  Seamus turned away, grabbing a coffee mug from a hook as he said, “Like an espresso, Rory? I think I’ll have one.”

  “Yes, please. That sounds great. Happy birthday, Lauren. Are those Telluride colors, too?”

  “Yes. Perfect, huh?”

  Rory nodded. Lauren had done it deliberately, shown her this gift. It was unfair and unkind, but that didn’t matter. Lauren was still growing up. Rory handed her the wrapped box.

  “Oh, thanks,” Lauren said. “Should I open it now?”

  “You can.”

  Belle came into the kitchen then, yelling, “Rory!”

  “Hey, you’re wearing a red dress, too,” Rory said, picking her up and hugging her. “We match.”

  “Cute,” Lauren said without inflection, moving toward the kitchen table.

  As Caleb and Fiona joined them, Lauren began to open her card. Rory watched her look at it and read it, her head down, her face showing nothing. “Thanks,” she said, laying it aside.

  She unwrapped the box next, and opened the lid.

  The coin bra was on top. She took it out slowly, her expression unchanging. “I think it will fit,” Rory said, joining Lauren at the table. “We’re about the same size.”

  Lauren held it up against herself experimentally. “Yeah,” she agreed.

  Rory watched her unwrap all the other gifts, too, and then put them back in the box.

  “Thank you,” Lauren said. “That’s really nice.”

  Rory thought, for a moment, about the fact that the coin bra had cost her $200 when she bought it four years ago. Lauren knew this because the two of them had discussed costuming and the pleasures of acquiring costume pieces for tribal belly dance. Rory had bought the earrings at an antique store in Denver. She’d given Lauren some of her treasures. And received very little acknowledgment of that.

  Oh, well.

  “There are belly dance classes here,” Lauren said. “They’re cabaret style.”

  “Some of those pieces will cross over,” Rory told her.

  “No, it’s completely different. But thanks.”

  I don’t deserve this, Rory thought. She heard the espresso machine hiss.

  “A latte okay?” Seamus asked.

  Rory walked over to him. “Thank you.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders. “That was a generous gift. Were those out of your personal trove?”

  “Yes. I like the idea of Lauren having them.”

  Lauren had closed the lid on the box. “I’m going upstairs to change,” she said, and walked out of the kitchen without the box.

  Seamus’s hand on Rory’s shoulder gently soothed her. He rested his head against hers, and she felt his lips brush her hair.

  He understood.

  Rory hugged his waist. “How was your shopping trip?”

  He gave her a look. “Tell you about it later. She found something she really likes.” Under the sound of the espresso machine, so that Fiona and the children couldn’t hear, he said, “If she weren’t punishing us, I think she’d have shown it to you instead of the letter jacket.”

  Rory saw the engagement ring on his finger. She said, “Mind if I wear that?”

  “You’ve missed me.” He turned toward her with a broad grin. He said, “Just want to wear it for a while?”

  “While I’m here.”

  “That works.” He took it off his finger and slid it onto hers.

  She swallowed.

  Seuss had brought his ball into the kitchen. It bounced through the door, and Belle and Caleb and Beau all followed the dog as he chased it. Fiona said, “Well, I’ll say good night. I’m going to my room.”

  “Good night, Fiona.” Rory hugged her impulsively. “You’re not coming out to dinner?”

  “Lauren said it was all right if I wanted to stay here. And I do.”

  As she left the kitchen, Seamus said, “She told me that she thinks this should be a family night. I told her that she is family, but she shook her head and said she thought it should just be the six of us.”

  “I like her a lot,” Rory said.

  “Who wouldn’t?”

  “Yes. Quite.” Rory hesitated, gazing at the ring on her hand, and said hesitantly, “Whenever I put this on, I’m afraid, Seamus.”

  He turned to her. “Of what?” He handed her the latte.

  “Thanks, it’s perfect. If Ki-Rin ever gets too old, you have a great future as a barista.”

  “Ha ha. Afraid of what?” he repeated.

  “Not sure. I wonder if it has anything to do with my job history.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “Now, this is a theory to hear.”

  “Don’t make fun of me. It’s just…I can’t seem to keep a job. And I’m not sure I like my new one, by the way. But I’m wondering if I’ve set myself up to lose jobs in the past. And if I’m afraid to stick with anything. And marriage is certainly sticking with something.”

  “You stick with belly dance and fire dance.”

  “True.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand it. I love you and I love your children, and I can actually picture us living happily togethe
r for the rest of our lives. But I’m anxious, and I don’t know why. I just know I should pay attention to the feeling.”

  Seamus’s stomach knotted. It wasn’t that he wanted her to ignore her intuition. He simply wanted there to be no reason for her wariness. And there must be a reason. Intuition was the type of thing that could end their relationship. Because it probably represented something that was true.

  Maybe there was a different future in store for Rory Gorenzi.

  She said, “That probably doesn’t exactly make your night.”

  “No. It doesn’t,” he agreed.

  She embraced him again. “Maybe we should just keep seeing each other—without getting married.”

  He shrugged. “I’d be willing to try. Who knows? Maybe Lauren would be easier with that.”

  “If my dad takes over the school again,” Rory said, “I’m prepared to come here.”

  He held her and kissed the crown of her head. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  WHEN KURT RETURNED to Sultan three weeks after his surgery, Rory told him of her decision. “I’ve told Seamus I’ll move to Telluride. Just…after you’re able to take the reins again.”

  “When’s the wedding?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Why aren’t you sure?” Her father’s expression was keen. He sat on the front porch of the small cabin that had always been his, in a green rocking chair. Sultan’s dirt roads were a mess of slush and mud. Rory had walked to her dad’s on foot, and her boots were caked with the mud.

  Evading, she said, “Oh—I just want to know what’s happening here. There’s no rush.”

  “You’ve got cold feet, haven’t you?” her father said.

  Considering his earlier prognostications on the subject, this was quite a turnaround. “What makes you think that?”

  “We talked at the hospital, he and I.”

  Rory shrugged. “There are just so many things up in the air. I have to confess, I don’t think I’m cut out to manage the school. I like being in the field and I like teaching. I can be an administrator, but I don’t care for it.”

  “What’s bothering you about committing yourself to him?”