Don't I know it. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I'll live." He opens a cupboard and pulls out a first-aid kit.
"Can I help you with that?"
"No, I've got it." He swipes an alcohol swab across his elbow, hissing at the sting. Then he looks back at me. "You can't be here."
What did I expect? I was rude to him at church, and now I nearly made him break his neck. Why would he want to have anything to do with me? "Of course. I'll leave you alone."
I'm halfway to the front door when he calls out. "Natalie, I meant you couldn't be in the food prep area. I don't want you to leave the building."
"You don't?"
"No." He smirks. "At least not until I find out why you came. After Sunday, I didn't expect to see you again."
"That's why I'm here." Should I order a coffee? Make this a more professional meeting? No, I just need to say what I came to say. But it's so hard. "Can we sit down?"
He looks around. "I don't know if I should. I'm on duty."
Mr. Jordan rustles his newspaper. "When a beautiful young woman asks you to sit with her, you'd best do it."
I look down at my running clothes. Mr. Jordan must be nearsighted.
Adam smiles and whispers to me, "Guess I've got to honor my elders, right?" He sits on a couch and waits for me to join him. Settling at the other end, I angle in his direction, careful not to let our knees accidentally touch. "Okay, what did you want to talk about?"
"About Sunday . . . I was wrong."
"About what? Me or Ben?"
"About all of it. You were right. I was so convinced that Ben was bad for Lindsay, I never gave him a chance."
"You were worried about your sister. If I'd been in your shoes, I probably would have done the same thing."
"I doubt it. You didn't even know Ben, but you saw something in him I didn't. You gave him a chance. And I blasted you for it."
"Your reaction was a little strong." He looks down at the seat cushion then looks back at me. "Why do you think that was?"
My breath catches in my throat. I know, but I don't want to put my feelings into words. I want to hide them away, keep them in the dark where they can't hurt me. I've learned, though, that the things I ignore and push to the side are the things that hurt me the most in the end. "Because you scare me to death."
His fingers reach for mine, but he stops himself, draws back. "You scare me too."
"I'm leaving at the end of the week."
At my announcement, his eyes widen. "Because of me?"
He sounds like Lindsay. Doesn't anybody think I have a mind of my own? "No. Not because of you. Because that's where my home is."
"Are you sure?"
I laugh and try to make a joke out of it. "Last time I checked."
His expression turns serious. When he reaches for my hand this time, he takes it, his grip firm and certain. "Do me a favor?"
My throat is now completely devoid of moisture. "What?"
"Consider that maybe God has a new path for you. Maybe there's a road leading out of California to someplace new."
"Someplace like here?"
"Maybe."
Looking down at our hands, the way his strong, warm fingers protect mine, I'm struck by the beauty of it. The rightness of it. The wrongness of it.
Slowly, I pull my hand away from his. "I'll consider it. But you have to remember, I'm still married."
"I think you ceased to be married as soon as your husband broke your vows and cheated on you. The rest is a legal technicality." His jaw clenches and he forces a smile. "But I know you're a married woman. Believe me. I know."
For just a moment, I let myself look into his eyes. They're deep and full of things I wish I could know better. I've got to get out of here, before I do something really stupid.
"I should go now."
He stands with me. "Will I see you before you leave?"
"I don't know. I haven't even booked my flight yet. And I want to spend as much time with my family as I can."
"How about if I come to you?" I open my mouth to object, but he holds up a hand and stops me. "I can bring you some iced coffee after I get off work. Just as friends. Promise."
The idea of talking to someone outside of my family is too good to pass up. "Okay," I say. "Just as friends."
What harm can there be in that?
42
Now that I've decided to return home, I figure it's also time to reconnect my techno-umbilical cord. For the first time in weeks, I sit down at a computer and log on to my e-mail. The amount of unread messages makes me slightly dizzy. I didn't know my inbox would hold so much.
Scanning the first few pages for anything marked urgent, I pause. Several of the subject lines contain the word divorce. I know I've decided to stop running away from painful truths, but I'm just not ready to take a cyber-scolding from wellmeaning strangers. The e-mail has waited this long. It can wait a few more days. I type in a new Web address and hit enter before I have time to change my mind.
While I'm searching for the best nonstop flight from O'Hare to LAX, my phone rings. I hit the speaker button so I can talk and surf at the same time. "Hello?"
"May I speak to Natalie Marino, please?"
"This is she."
"Ms. Marino, I'm calling from the Santa Monica Police Department."
I snatch up the phone and press it against my ear. "Yes. Do you have news about my car?"
By the time our conversation is done, I'm left with a mishmash of emotions. I take a few minutes to complete my airline reservation, then I call Jade.
"Hey," she says. "When are you coming back?"
"In five days."
"Really? I was just joking, but that's great. If you give me your info, I'll come pick you up."
"I added your e-mail address to the reservation. You should have a copy of the itinerary."
"Okay. Is something wrong? You sound kind of down."
"The police found my car."
"That's good. Isn't it?"
"It was stripped and chopped."
There's a long pause. "Oh." Then another pause. "What does that mean?"
"Pretty much what it sounds like. All the parts were removed, and if they couldn't be removed, they were cut out." I take a deep breath and try to put an upbeat lilt into my voice. "Want to hear the good news?"
"I can't imagine there being anything good after that. So yeah, I want to hear it."
"They found some of Lindsay's boxes."
"No way."
"Yes way. They were in the back of the garage they used for their operation. Apparently, thieves have no use for almost-new maternity clothes."
Jade bursts out laughing. Despite my best attempts, I join her. Even though part of me wants to throw something, a bigger part is glad to experience some resolution. Once I contact my insurance company, return the loaner car, and get the recovered boxes from the police station, I can put this whole irritating situation behind me.
Speaking of irritating situations . . . "Jade, have you taken a look at my e-mail lately?"
"I've been watching it for anything that needs immediate attention." She sounds positively breezy. Too breezy.
"Nothing from my agent or editor, then?"
"No, but that's not a bad thing. They probably just want to give you space."
"Probably." Or they want to distance themselves from me. Never a good thing. "There sure are a lot of unread messages in my box."
She makes a noise. It's either a grunt of approval or a groan. I don't want to know which. "I was going to read them, but then I changed my mind. We can go through them when you get back." Before I can reply, she rushes on. "Too bad it's not sooner, but at least you're finally heading home."
Home. I think of Tony, and I think of the house. Then I push those thoughts away. "I can't wait to see you, Jade."
After I hang up, I swivel the desk chair so it's facing the window, looking out on the yard. The grass needs mowing. Weeds crowd in among the tulips ringing the base of the elm. Even th
e fence is looking shabby, the white paint on the boards cracked and peeling. So much needs to be done. Five days may seem like a long time to Jade, but I wonder if it's long enough to accomplish everything I want to do before I leave.
Pushing myself from the chair, I go in search of Lindsay. She's not in the guest room. Not in the kitchen. When I poke my head into the family room, I find Mom and Dad sitting on the couch together, reading. He's reading a novel; Mom is flipping through a magazine, most likely only looking at the pictures.
"Dad? Have you seen Lindsay?"
He takes off his reading glasses as he looks at me. "She's out with Ben."
I frown. Just because I don't think he's abusive doesn't mean I'm excited about their relationship. Not the way it is right now. "Did she say when she'd be back?"
"In time for dinner."
"Okay." I turn to leave but then grab the door frame and pull myself around. "What would you think about inviting Ben to join us?"
"For dinner?"
"Yes."
He considers it, twisting his lips to the side. "I think it's a good idea. Looks like he's going to be a part of this family one way or the other. We should get to know him better."
Exactly what I was thinking. We need to know him, and he needs to know what kind of a family he's getting into. It will also give me a chance to make a few things clear. To both of them.
"If you need me, I'll be outside." Waggling my fingers, I leave my parents to their reading and head for the garden. If I don't do anything else, I'm determined to whip Mom's flowerbeds into shape before I leave Beaumont.
"Mary, Mary. How does your garden grow?"
I'm on my hands and knees, wrist deep in a topsoil and mulch mixture, when Adam's rich voice singsongs behind me.
"Are you calling me contrary?" I ask, looking over my shoulder.
"Depends on the day." He motions with the two icy drinks in his hands. "How does taking a break sound?"
Brushing off my hands, I raise myself straight up on my knees, feeling a bit like a prairie dog. "Sounds perfect."
He heads to the porch and I'm relieved when he sits on the top step. Something about the porch swing would be a little too intimate for two friends.
Putting the straw to my lips, I take a slurp of the cool, creamy coffee. "Mmm. This is exactly what I needed."
"Glad to be of service." He points to the corner of the yard. "What are you planting there?"
"Pansies in the front. Behind that, I'm putting in marigolds."
"Annuals. Interesting."
"How so?"
He shrugs his shoulders so quickly, it looks more like a hiccup. "Just that they'll die at the end of the season and need to be replaced next year."
I hadn't considered that when I bought the plants at the nursery. My main focus was what looked pretty. "Guess I'll have to hire someone to do that next year."
"Or you could do it yourself."
"I could. If I'm here."
"Or you could hire me."
I laugh. "Yes, because you desperately need a third job."
His lips quirk into a sad little smile. "I may be down to one job pretty soon."
"Really? Why?"
"The coffee shop's for sale."
"I'm sorry to hear that, but I can't say I'm surprised. Half the time I've been in there, it's been empty or nearly so."
"Yeah. It's hard to meet operating expenses when people are cutting back on luxuries."
"The renovation probably hasn't helped either."
"No. Which is ironic, because the whole idea of the renovation is to attract more people." He moves his cup in a circle, watching the liquid and ice cubes swirl inside. "I just hope the new owner decides to keep the apartments upstairs, or else I'll be out of a home too."
"There are apartments?"
He bobs his head. "Yep. Four of them."
"Are they all rented out?"
"Only two. The other two are empty." He grins at me. "Why? Are you in the market for an apartment?"
"Maybe. But not for me." If Lindsay decides to stay in Beaumont long-term, she's going to need a place to live. Hanging out in the spare bedroom is great now, but not after the baby comes. And if she and Ben are serious and end up getting married. . . . Another slurp of my coffee produces a loud sucking sound as the straw encounters nothing but air. Making a sad face, I jiggle the empty cup. "Looks like my break is over. Thanks for the drink."
"Thanks for sharing a step with me. See ya." He pats me on the shoulder, quick and firm, the way a friend would when saying good-bye. But as he walks away, I can't help wondering about God's timing, why things happen the way they do, and how a person's life can become so complicated so quickly.
43
Maybe it makes me a small, petty person, but I have to admit, I get a zing of pleasure out of how uncomfortable Ben looks at our dinner table. My sister, however, is almost euphoric. To her, the sharing of a meal signals our family's total acceptance of her relationship. Ben knows better. He's a little older, has seen a bit more of the world. He knows that being the only player without home-field advantage is rarely a good thing.
I wasn't sure how Mom would handle having a stranger for dinner, but I guess most people are strangers to her. Tonight, she dug deep and pulled out her company manners. Even though Lindsay introduced her to Ben, whenever she speaks to him she calls him young man. Probably because she forgot his name shortly after she heard it. I find it cute, but it rattles Ben. I don't bother correcting her.
"So Ben," Dad spears a piece of chicken from the platter before passing it on to me, "you must be racking up quite a bill at the hotel. Have you thought about your living situation?"
"I'm not at the hotel anymore. I found a roommate."
"Really?" After I take my chicken, I hold the platter in front of Mom so she can take a piece. "Who with?"
"One of the guys in the band has a friend with a spare room, so he's letting me crash there."
"For free? Wow, that's nice of him."
Ben nods. "It's just temporary. Hopefully, I'll be in a more permanent situation soon." He and Lindsay smile at each other, and I pounce on the moment.
"Does that mean the two of you are planning to stay in Beaumont?"
The platter has made it all the way around the table to Ben. He sets it down gently as he looks me straight in the eye. "It does."
"Why?"
"Why not?" Lindsay jumps to his defense, but he puts his hand on her wrist and squeezes it.
"It's a nice town. A great place to raise kids. And Lindsay wants to be closer to her parents."
Mom looks up from her plate and smiles. "Oh, they'll love that."
Confused, Ben looks at Lindsay. She whispers in his ear. I move the conversation forward as if nothing odd just happened. "Sounds good. I'm surprised playing in the worship band pays enough to support a family."
Lindsay kicks me in the shin. My knee jerks up and hits the table, setting the dishes to rattling.
Ben grabs the tottering salt shaker and shakes it vigorously over his food. "I'm looking for a second job, something fulltime with health insurance."
Dad points his fork in Ben's direction. "That's very ambitious of you."
"If Adam can do it, so can I."
Adam is certainly a good influence on Ben. I'll have to tell him so the next time I see him. If I see him.
Mom leans back in her seat. "I'm full."
It's not unusual for Mom to break into a conversation with whatever's on her mind. Nor is it unusual for her to proclaim she's done eating even though we've all just started.
Leaning over, I turn her plate a bit. "Have you tried the potatoes, Mom? They're really good."
Without acknowledging me, she picks up her fork and holds it poised over her food. Then she says, "When is the wedding?"
She succeeds in stopping all activity in the room: eating, talking, breathing. Lindsay is the first to find her voice. "What wedding?"
"Yours, of course." She looks back and forth between Linds
ay and Ben. "I've never seen two young people so much in love. You are meant to be together." She laughs, the sound a little too tight, a little too loud. "I've been telling you that for years."
She's got them confused with another couple, but I have no idea who. Dad and I look at each other. He shrugs, clueless as the rest of us. Lindsay's lips are pressed tight, lower lip clamped between her teeth, eyes wet and shiny. There's no way she can talk and keep from crying at the same time.
I struggle to find something to say that will help, or at least change the subject. "Who wants dessert? We have cake."
"Not until you clean your plate," Mom says. She looks across the table, her expression dreamy and far off. "We had such a beautiful wedding, didn't we, Joel?"
Dad nods. "Yes, we did."
"The cake was so big. It was . . . " Her eyes drift to the side as she searches her mind for the answer.
"Lemon." Dad fills in.
Her attention snaps back to him. "Lemon chiffon. With cream cheese frosting."
One of the mysteries of Alzheimer's is how it riddles a person's memory with so many holes and gaps it's turned into the mental equivalent of Swiss cheese. There's nothing fair about the fact that Mom can remember the frosting on a cake she ate forty years ago, but she doesn't recognize her own daughter who sits right beside her.
It would be hard enough for Lindsay to handle if she wasn't pregnant, but now, it's all too much. She drops her face in her hands and the tears come, hard and fast, along with gulping sobs.
The crying agitates Mom. Her hands start to shake and she bunches up her napkin in her lap. "What's wrong? Why's she crying?"
"They're happy tears." Ben jumps in, putting his arm around Lindsay and pulling her close. "We're just so excited about getting married."
"Oh." Mom relaxes. "Oh, yes. Of course you are."
Ben looks directly at my dad, his expression serious. "Sir, there's nothing I want more than to marry Lindsay. Nothing."
"That's good to hear." Dad's voice is so thick, I'm afraid he may start crying too. But he clears his throat and carries on. "Why don't you and Lindsay get that cake now?"
"Good idea. Come on, babe." He helps Lindsay out of her chair and they walk quickly from the room.
The Mor Road Page 18
