"You should go. It's beautiful. We don't have nearly as much smog as L.A. and not half as many earthquakes."
He grinned. "Is that the city slogan?"
"No, but it's true."
"Is someone waiting for you in San Diego?"
"I have lots of friends there," she prevaricated.
"Then why are you here?"
"I told you—Serena."
He eyed her speculatively. "Yes, the lovely Serena. I still don't see you two as friends."
Maggie paused as they neared the tennis courts. She suddenly realized that having professed to be Serena's friend, she could hardly ask Jeremy to point her out.
"Well, what now?" he drawled as they both looked at the group of people in trendy tennis clothes sipping mineral water and chatting about the matches.
Maggie didn't know how to answer him. Was Serena here or not? She bit down on her lip as she studied each woman. Serena had been wearing hot pink as she recalled, and none of these women were wearing anything remotely pink.
"You don't really know Serena, do you?" Jeremy asked, turning her around so she had to look into his inquisitive eyes. "You're not her friend at all. Who are you? And what are you doing here?"
* * *
"Mother, what on earth are you doing here?" Lisa demanded as Silvia Alvarez walked through the front door of Maggie's house. Silvia wore a colorful peasant blouse tucked into an even more colorful skirt, adorned with a shiny gold belt. Long gold earrings dangled from her ears, sparkling against jet black hair that was pulled back in a bun, but which Lisa knew would drift down to her hips when released.
"I came to help you," Silvia proclaimed, kissing Lisa on the cheek and gathering her into a warm hug.
Lisa felt some of the coldness seep out of her body, as if Silvia's body heat were enough to warm them both. Silvia had always been fire and sunshine, colors and craziness. Lisa loved her mother very much, but often with a sense of bemusement that they could actually be mother and daughter. They were different in so many ways. And while Lisa appreciated her mother's sincere interest in her life, she was wary of exactly what course that interest would take.
"You're too thin," Silvia declared, taking a step back so she could scrutinize her daughter. "And pale, too. Don't you ever let the sunshine kiss these cheeks?"
Lisa stepped back before her mother could pinch some color into her face. "I'm too busy working to lay in the sun."
"Grandma Silvia," Mary Bea shouted from halfway down the stairs.
Lisa turned, shocked to see Mary Bea, who had barely given her a smile, run into her mother's arms—as if they knew each other, as if they were family. But Silvia wasn't related to Maggie in any way. Silvia was Lisa's mother, and Lisa had cut her ties to the Maddux family eight years ago, long before Mary Bea had come along,
"Did you bring me something?" Mary Bea asked.
"Of course." Silvia opened her large canvas bag and pulled out a small package. "This is for you."
Mary Bea knelt on the floor and opened the wrapping paper. She squealed with delight at the sight of a colorful beaded necklace. "It's beautiful. Gracias."
"De nada." Silvia replied. "Your Spanish is getting better."
"Can I show this to Roxy?"
"Yes, and tell her I have something for her and Dylan, too." Silvia straightened and smiled at Lisa. "She grows like a weed."
"You've seen her?"
"Of course. I only live fifteen minutes from here."
"But why?" Lisa suddenly felt left out. "She's not related to you."
"Maggie was your best friend, your sister-in-law, and one of my favorite girls. I watched you grow up together. I couldn't divorce her simply because you did."
Lisa flinched at the criticism. "I didn't divorce her. I divorced Nick."
"And that's why you've seen Maggie only a handful of times in the past few years? When her husband died, you snuck in and out like a thief in the night."
"I was busy."
"That's right. You have a place to live, a great job, a new man, new friends. I'm surprised you haven't found a new mother yet."
"Sometimes, I'm tempted." It wasn't rational to feel bothered by her mother's continued friendship with Maggie, but somehow she felt betrayed that her mother had chosen Maggie and even Nick over her.
"Did you get the bracelet?" Silvia asked.
"Yes, and that's another thing," Lisa said, feeling once again righteously indignant. "Where did you get it?"
"From Nick, of course."
"He said he hadn't seen it in years."
"But he kept it." Silvia's dark eyes gentled. "For you. He kept everything for you."
Lisa shook her head. "That's not true. I was at the house, and my room is changed and her—her room is empty. My things are gone."
Silvia didn't say anything for a long moment. Then she reached into her bag and pulled out her key ring. She worked the metal ring in her fingers until a single key slid off. She handed it to Lisa.
"What's this?"
"The answer to your question."
"I didn't ask one."
"1427 San Vicente Boulevard. Number 134."
Lisa stared at her mother, not sure if the address was supposed to make sense. It wasn't her mother's address. It wasn't Nick's.
Silvia walked over to the side table and jotted the numbers down on a piece of paper. "In case you forget," she said, covering the key in Lisa's palm with the piece of paper.
Before Lisa could reply, Roxy, Dylan and Mary Bea descended the stairs like a herd of cattle, each begging for their present.
Silvia laughingly complied, pulling out a decorative wooden marionette for Dylan and a pair of hand-painted earrings for Roxy. The children were delighted with their gifts. Their exuberance, their loving hugs with Grandma Silvia, both touched and troubled Lisa. She supposed it was only natural that Silvia would visit with the children. She'd always loved kids. And she didn't have any grandchildren of her own.
Lisa swallowed back that memory and tried to smile as Dylan showed her his puppet.
"Maybe you could put on a show," Lisa suggested.
"Cool." Dylan and Mary Bea ran off to the family room to plan their show, and Roxy headed for the phone to call her best friend.
"Now that they're settled, I'll get started on dinner," Silvia said as she turned toward the kitchen.
Lisa followed her mother down the hall, knowing it was pointless to argue. When her mother was on a roll, it was impossible to stop her. Lisa watched as Silvia pulled out various food items from her never-ending canvas bag.
"You look like Mary Poppins," Lisa said grumpily. "I'm expecting you to start singing about a spoonful of sugar any minute now."
"Maybe I will, if it would put a smile on your face."
Lisa leaned against the counter. "Did Nick call you?"
"No. Why would he?"
"He doesn't think I can handle taking care of the kids for the weekend."
Silvia sent her a steady look. "Is that what he said?"
"It's what he thought. He spent the night here on the couch."
"I'm not sure you have any idea what's going on in Nick's head."
"That might be true," Lisa agreed. "So, how did you know I was here? Maggie?"
"I just knew, Lisa. I woke up this morning and I opened the curtains to let in the sunlight. Then I made myself a cup of coffee and took it into the garden; it was such a beautiful morning. That's when I saw it."
"Saw what?" Lisa asked as a wave of uneasiness swept through her body.
"The robin," Silvia replied, meeting her eye. "It came back, and so did you."
Lisa stared at her mother for a long moment as a tiny seed of wonder began to grow in her heart. Could the robin have special meaning? No. It was just a bird, and her mother was once again trying to make her believe in magic.
Lisa finally looked away. "I'm only spending the weekend. Tomorrow I go back to L.A." She walked over to the cupboard and pulled out a glass, then took some iced tea out of the refrige
rator. "Would you like some tea, Mother?"
Silvia simply stared at her reprovingly.
"I'll take that as a no." Lisa poured herself some tea, then put the pitcher back in the refrigerator. When she turned around, Silvia hadn't moved.
"I suppose you want to tell me about the robin." Lisa took a sip of tea. "How it's some sign of something magical, mystical. Well, go ahead."
Silvia looked saddened by her sarcasm, and for a moment, Lisa felt guilty. Her mother didn't deserve to be attacked. Lisa didn't understand how she could deal with irate clients with complete calm, but become a sulky, annoyed child when she was with her mother.
"I'm sorry," Lisa said. "It's been a long day."
"I can see that."
Lisa pushed her hair off her face in a gesture of weariness. "I don't know what you want from me. I don't know what Nick wants from me. You both seem to expect me to do something, but I don't know what it is. I can't come back here. I can't make things the way they were."
"All I want is for you to stop running away from everyone who loves you."
"I'm not running. Mom. I've been in L.A. for a long time. And I'm planning to be with the man who loves me on a daily basis in the very near future."
Silvia shook her head. "He's not for you. He's too old. He's too safe. I don't see love in your eyes. I don't hear it in your voice."
"Because you don't want to hear it. You can't accept the fact that I'm getting married again and that that man is not Nick," Lisa retorted. "You adored him. He could do no wrong—even when he was doing plenty wrong." She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "How can you say Raymond isn't for me? You don't even know him."
"No, I don't, do I?"
She couldn't defend against that accusation. She had deliberately kept Raymond and her mother apart, just as she had kept her past away from her present. Now they were blurring together, and she was losing control just as she had known she would.
She forced a smile to her face. "If you want to come up one day next week, we can go out to lunch or dinner, whatever you like."
"Why can't he come here?"
"Because he's busy."
"And I'm not?"
Lisa sighed. "I know you think I'm looking for a father figure, but you're wrong. Raymond and I have a great deal in common. We talk business. We know the same people. We have a good time together, and, most importantly, Raymond will never hurt me."
"Love is the most important thing."
Lisa instinctively wrapped her arms around her waist. "Love hurts."
"So you don't love this man?"
"I care for him deeply. Yes, I love him," Lisa added, realizing she didn't sound all that confident.
"The way you loved Nick?" Silvia's eyes softened as she looked at Lisa. "The way you couldn't keep your hands off each other, the way you finished each other's sentences, the way you laughed at the same jokes?"
"I'm older now, I'm different. He's different. Our love was a lifetime ago."
"Are you going to have children with this older man?"
"No!" The word rang through the kitchen like a shotgun blast.
"No," Silvia agreed, surprising her. "I don't see a child with you and this man. Only with you and Nick."
"That child is – gone." As Lisa said the words, a lump grew in her throat, and a wave of self-pity filled her heart. She had lost so much. Her life hadn't just swerved in a new direction, it had been shattered into a zillion irretrievable pieces. "I need some air," she muttered.
Lisa opened the back door and stepped out on to the deck that overlooked the backyard. She stared up at the darkening twilight sky, letting the beauty of the night ease her tension.
After a moment, she sat down in one of the deck chairs and took several deep, cleansing breaths of fresh air.
There was a slight evening breeze, which carried with it the scent of the sea and memories of long summer days, warm evenings, love and laughter and dreaming.
Lisa remembered sitting out on the front porch of her house with Nick the night they'd brought Robin home from the hospital. Robin, who had been blessedly quiet when they were surrounded by doctors and nurses, had become a red, squealing tyrant the minute they'd stepped foot in the house. She could still see Robin's tightly scrunched eyes, and feel Robin's ridiculously long fingernails clawing into her arm.
They'd spent most of that first afternoon caught between tender love and utter bewilderment over how they could possibly take care of Robin. It wasn't until dusk had fallen, until Nick had brought out his guitar and they'd sat in the swing on the porch that the baby had finally quieted down, lulled to sleep by the music, surrounded by two people who loved her more than anything.
Lisa put a hand over her heart, swept back into the past, into a place where she could almost feel Robin's little head snuggled against her breast, her tiny curls tickling Lisa's chin. She could hear her quiet breathing, smell the baby powder. She remembered the way she'd held her baby, one hand protectively cradling the back of her neck, the other against her tiny bottom.
Oh, God!
It hurt so damn much. There was a hungry ache in her soul that wouldn't go away, that could never be filled. Over the years, she had forced herself to overlook it, but it had never gone away, and tonight it felt as bad as it had felt all those years ago.
A tear crept out of the corner of her eye. Lisa wiped it away, terrified of the pressure that was building behind her eyes, the emotion that threatened to spill out. She would not cry. She couldn't. If she let the tears come, she would simply drown in a sea of emotion.
* * *
Nick stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching Lisa's face. She was fighting something, breathing as hard as if she'd just finished running a marathon. He wanted to yell at her to let it out. He wanted to shake her until her perfect hair fell down around her shoulders the way he remembered, until the hardness left her eyes, the coldness vanished from her voice. He wanted her soft and trembling, the woman he'd fallen in love with, not the hard-hearted warrior she'd become.
"Lisa? Are you all right?" He knew she would say she was fine. There had been a time when she'd told him everything, all of her deepest and darkest fears, and he had told her his. That time was past.
Lisa put a hand over her mouth to stop any words from erupting between her lips. The shakiness of her hand told him how hard she was fighting to stay in control.
Nick walked around her chair and knelt in front of her. He looked into her beautiful blue eyes and saw a wash of unshed tears. "Cry, dammit. You know you want to."
"I won't," she said defiantly.
"Why? Are you afraid you won't be able to stop?" He read the answer in her eyes. "I couldn't cry for a long time either. The only time I could let go was when I was drunk out of my mind. I could pretend it was the booze that was crying, not me."
"Are you suggesting I get drunk?"
"God, no. I'd be the last one to suggest that."
She breathed in and out for several seconds as silence settled between them. He realized how much he'd missed her face, her mannerisms, the tiny freckle at the corner of her eyebrow, all the little things that were her and some that were Robin's as well. Robin had looked like Lisa, with her dark hair and her blue eyes.
"Stop staring at me,'' Lisa said.
"Do I make you nervous?"
"You know you do."
He smiled as he touched the side of her face, enjoying the feel of her silky skin beneath his roughened fingertips. "What's this? Truth?"
"Maybe." She paused. "It would probably be better if you didn't touch me."
"Better for who?"
"For both of us."
He dropped his hand away from her face and stood up. He walked to the edge of the deck and looked out at the yard. "You're right. It would be better if I didn't touch you, because it only makes me want you again. We both know that can't happen."
"No, it can't. Our life together was a foolish fantasy, Nick. I don't know what we were thinking, getting married whe
n we did. You didn't have a job, I hadn't finished college. And we made love without any protection, never thinking about the future. We didn't make plans. We didn't act responsibly. We let our hormones run wild. Everything we did was stupid, and we paid for it."
His lips twisted in disbelief as he turned to look at her. "It's amazing how you can turn the love affair of the century into a series of reckless sexual encounters. I was in love with you, Lisa, and you were in love with me."
"I was in love with love," she cried as she stood up. "I adored you and Maggie and your all-American family. I wanted what you had. A mother who stayed home, who didn't work all the time, who wasn't a single parent, who didn't believe in crystal balls and magic. I wanted the house with the white picket fence and the baby carriage on the porch. I wanted a man in my life, one who would stand by me through thick and thin till death do we part."
"And we had that."
"Yeah, until God decided his little practical joke had gone far enough."
"We could have had it again if you hadn't walked out. I was willing to stand by you, Lisa."
"No, you weren't. You'd like to remember it that way, but that's not the way it was."
Nick turned away from her and took a deep breath. He wanted to argue but couldn't. There was a memory at the back of his mind, one that ran consistently through his nightmares. And it was starting again. He could see the morning fog, the grass, the tiny white casket, the flowers, the people—and Lisa.
"Hey, Lisa. Babe." Nick waved as he stumbled out of his brother's car. He knew he was in trouble when he saw her face, so cold, so unforgiving, and her skin was so pale against the heavy, depressing black of her suit. A sudden burst of shame ran through him, but he quickly shoved it away. So what if she was angry because he was late? She'd blamed him for everything else. She'd even kicked him out of their bedroom the night before. What was the difference?
"Where have you been?" she asked, storming over to him. She grabbed him by the arm, her grip as tight as a vise.
"I've been getting some breakfast."
"My God you're drunk. It's eleven o'clock in the morning, Nick."
"No kidding. Gee, thanks for pointing that out."
Summer Reads Box Set, Books 4-6 Page 11
