California Dreaming: Four Contemporary Romances

by Casey Dawes

  He watched her face shut down and the hope go out of her eyes. His heart saddened for both of them.

  “Shall we go back?” he asked. She nodded and started walking down the street, John striding beside her. This time he didn’t reach for her hand.

  When they got to the corner by the bookstore, she stopped. “I’ll walk to the garage myself.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “It’s better this way. Thanks for a lovely evening, John.” Annie stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. Turning, she walked down the street, head held high, her rocking hips keeping in time with the click of her heels.

  He was a complete idiot.

  • • •

  “Just get me the damn report,” John snapped.

  “My, aren’t we the pleasant one today,” Sunshine said. “Must have been a terrific date last night.” John glared at her and she scampered out of his office. “Yes, sir. One report coming on up.”

  John slammed his hand on the desk. He wished he had a pencil to throw; it would have been much more satisfying. Cupping his hands over his eyes, he tried to concentrate.

  Dammit! He couldn’t get her out of his mind. Why was she so hell-bent on moving? Why couldn’t she take the chance?

  But then, why should she? They’d only known each other a few weeks. It was nothing to place a lifetime on. But he knew in his gut, just the way he’d known with Jessica. Annie would bring him joy. They’d both had to deal with the curve balls that life could throw and had hopefully gained some wisdom from the experience.

  A knock on the doorjamb alerted him to Sunshine’s presence before she tossed the file on his desk.

  “I’m sorry,” John said to her retreating back.

  She paused and looked over her shoulder. “Want to talk?”

  He shook his head. Growing up male in Montana didn’t lead to sharing.

  John glanced at the sales report. The extra effort they were putting into e-mail marketing was paying off. Phone sales were up. Good. Maybe his little independent bookstore could stay in business in spite of the Amazon juggernaut.

  Looking around the office for something else to do, John came up empty. He’d have to go down to the floor, or take the rest of the day off. He glanced toward the front of the store. Sun streamed through the plate glass window. He stood up and headed out of the office. His horse could use a ride in the Forest of Nisene Marks. So could he.

  • • •

  Slam! Punch! The sigh of escaping air.

  Annie grabbed the dough from the bowl and tossed it on the counter. Damn him! Damn that kiss! Damn that professor in Montana!

  “Finally find a good one,” she muttered. “And I have to move away. He has to stay here. Of course. That’s the way my life always works.”

  Whack. The bread dough landed halfway off the counter. Pulling it back from the edge, Annie settled into the rhythm of kneading. Push. Fold. Push. Fold.

  My life is full of problems. Problems caused by other people.

  Okay, maybe stabbing Conrad in the foot wasn’t the smartest idea, but she was good at her job and that should be enough. She hated corporate politics. It was like a bunch of boys playing King of the Mountain. She wished she could leave it all behind.

  Annie’s hands stopped kneading. Could she? Maybe she could find some temporary work. Job agencies were always looking for good project managers. If she didn’t have to worry about corporate politics, she could leave at the end of the day. It might leave her time to resurrect her singing career.

  Another voice from the chorus chimed in. This one sounded suspiciously like her mother. And lose your security? What would you do? Sing? That’s not a vocation — that’s an avocation. You can’t make money at it. It took you long enough to land a real job. You wouldn’t do well living in a car. And what about David?

  David.

  Annie sighed and went back to kneading. Time to put that nonsense out of her head. She’d have to slog on through. Her mother’s voice was right. She couldn’t depend on singing for a livelihood.

  She couldn’t depend on a man for one, either.

  • • •

  Monday morning, Annie went to Silicon Valley for an outplacement meeting. As she drove up the mountain, Annie was captivated by the long fingers of ocean fog caressing the valleys. From the summit, the mountaintops looked like islands in a frothy soup. Spring had arrived on the coast — yet, not to her life.

  Her foot automatically came off the gas as the taillights braked in front of her. Maybe the morning commute in New Jersey would be easier.

  Currents of melody ran under words that flowed into her mind. Annie grabbed for the pad of paper that sat between the seats, and scribbled as the traffic stalled in front of her.

  Summer changes, seasons befall

  Water hewn mountains, life hewn souls.

  When the traffic began flowing again, her muse departed, but the brief spark of creativity had given her soul a lift.

  She was late when she got to the building for her required class. Mandatory classes to teach you how to lose your job. Great. Maybe the e-mail about the new job would come from Jim this week. Waiting to hear from other people about her life was getting old.

  Hours later, she dug out the pad she’d brought from the car and surreptitiously put it in her lap. No longer able to feign interest in the instructor or the topic, she began to mull over the words she’d written.

  One of the strangest aspects of her move to California all those years ago was the difference in seasons. Contrary to popular wisdom, there were seasons in the western state; they were just more subtle than those in Michigan. Small changes marked California seasons. It was the big changes, like nature’s earthquakes and forest fires that forced major rebirth in her adopted state.

  Idly, she tapped her pen on the pad, checking out the instructor to make sure her vacant expression hadn’t been noticed. Two more lines emerged:

  Fires roar, redwoods fall

  My soul will change again.

  Her words stared back at her. When she’d been faced with the reality of taking care of David and Fred’s lack of responsibility, she’d upended her life to do what had to be done. After the divorce, she’d felt as if she was stepping off a high wire into the unknown. JCN had been good to her financially. Her bosses had understood when she’d stayed home for David’s illness or left early for a soccer game. But now the corporation had turned its back on her. She was a cog in the machine, replaceable. Maybe it was time to try something different.

  People in the room stirred and Annie glanced at her watch. Lunch break. Only a few more hours and she could escape to the coast.

  But, she told herself, she should really be paying attention to this lecture. If she didn’t go to New Jersey, she needed to know her options.

  Chapter 13

  On Wednesday, the day of David’s court appearance, Annie knocked on his door early. He didn’t give her any problems about getting up, but he looked pale and red-eyed. When he got to the breakfast table, she saw that he’d made an effort to look neat, avoiding the slouching pants and oversized sweatshirt that had become part of his dress since he started hanging out with Larry and his crowd of losers. One struggle avoided.

  They cleared the coastal fog as soon as they drove onto Highway 1 to go north, only to sit in early morning commuter traffic until they reached Santa Cruz. Annie turned the NPR station up loudly to cover the sound of silence in the car. They took the mountain road toward Felton, leaving the clog of cars behind. The crisp blue sky was pierced by the majestic redwoods that strode up the road beside them.

  Although they pulled into the juvenile hall parking lot fifteen minutes before they were due to be there, it was already crowded. Annie dropped David off at the door to sign in while she cruised for a parking space.

  She couldn
’t find a space in the tiny lot. Frustrated, she squeezed her car into a spot that could have been legitimate, or could have been a walkway. She no longer cared. If she got a parking ticket, so be it. Her son was inside and he needed her. She started the climb up the short hill between the parking lot and the building.

  She was out of breath when she made it to the waiting room. David was sitting over to the far left, staring at the novel in his hand. She walked over and sat down on the metal chair next to him.

  “I signed in,” he whispered when she got settled. Then he went back to staring at his book.

  Annie took out her own book and began to read the same sentence over and over. Nothing made sense. She glanced at David. Since he never turned a page, Annie was sure he wasn’t having any better luck reading than she was.

  She gave up and scanned the packed room. Whole families were there to stand up for their wayward child. Neatly dressed teens chatted nervously with each other, hands moving in a jerky language of their own. Extended Latino families, from clear-eyed grandmothers to wide-eyed toddlers took up corners of the room. Annie caught the eye of another single mother dressed in a business casual outfit. They smiled wanly at each other before Annie shifted her eyes away.

  It was an audience that waited for an opening. Men and women in dark suits entered the lobby, rolling briefcases overstuffed with papers and looking for the person they needed to guide through their walk-on role.

  One of the suits called out David’s name. David barely raised his hand in response. Annie started to stand, but the man waved her down. He sat down on the other side of David and leaned across him to introduce himself.

  “I’m Bill Thorton,” he said, looking through the papers in his folder. “I’ve spoken to you and your son a few times on the phone. It seems pretty simple. David’ll probably get probation and community service. Not much to worry about. They’ll call us shortly. Just hang tight and it will all be over soon. Any questions?”

  Annie had a thousand questions. What was going to happen? How long would they have to be here? Was Bill Thorton any good? It didn’t feel like the right time to ask. Mimicking the behavior of the parents around her, she shook her head at the already standing attorney. Annie and David went back to staring at their books.

  After another hour of pretense, David’s name was called. Annie threw her purse in the gray tub provided by the security guard and walked through the metal detector. David’s pockets were full of change and paperclips. He beeped as he went through the detector and had to remove his belt. Once more and his watch went into the gray tub. The other waiting families watched the small drama out of boredom, a few of the kids wearing a grin that said, “Newbie.”

  Bill Thorton was waiting on the other side of the metal detector. He escorted them into a small room on the side of the hallway. Maroon-painted cement walls were highly overrated as an architectural flourish.

  “Look,” the attorney said, “here’s the deal. You plead guilty and the DA has agreed to give you six months’ probation and two months’ community service. I suggest that you take it. They have videotapes of you doing the crime and the store is intent on prosecuting. They’ve been hit by too many shoplifters lately and they aren’t happy.”

  David’s mouth turned down. “What’s community service?” he asked.

  “Picking up litter around town, usually. It’s not hard and it’s usually on Saturday mornings.”

  “Can’t do it,” David said.

  “What do you mean?” the lawyer asked.

  “Got soccer. I can’t let my team down,” David said, his hands clenching.

  The lawyer looked David in the eye. “Listen, son,” he said. “I know you don’t think this is much, but I assure you that it is. You aren’t going to do your team much good if you are in juvenile hall. So I suggest you take the plea, miss a few games and do yourself a favor.”

  “David,” Annie said. “Do what he says.”

  “That’s it. I’m just supposed to do what everyone says. Go to New Jersey. Miss my games. Never think on my own.”

  “Well,” the lawyer pointed out. “Your best thinking got you where you are right now.”

  David stopped talking. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll do the community service.” Then he turned to his mother, “But I’m not going to New Jersey.”

  Annie opened her mouth to reply, but the lawyer jumped in. “Good,” he said as he slammed his briefcase closed. “Let’s go to court.”

  Thorton led the way down the hallway and put his fingers to his lips to indicate silence before he quietly opened the heavy wooden door to the court. He gestured Annie and David to the seats behind the railing before going through the gate to the left hand side of the courtroom. He added his stack of papers to those already on the long table and sat down next to a well-dressed woman. Annie’s mind took in all the details without really absorbing them.

  The table to the right was likewise piled with papers where two men thumbed through the stacks. The judge whispered to the clerk while the lawyers scanned papers and spoke into each other’s ears. To one side were several kids in orange jumpsuits. Occasionally, a lawyer went and had a short, but urgent conversation with one of them.

  Seemingly at random, the judge thumped his gavel, checked his list and called a name. Another half hour went by before he called David’s. Bill Thorton stood and motioned David through the gate. Annie started to rise, but the lawyer shook his head. Her son was on his own with this. One of the men from the right-hand table stood up as well.

  “How do you plead?” the judge asked after reading the charges out loud.

  “Uh, guilty,” David replied.

  “We’ve reached an agreement with the district attorney for two months’ community service and six months’ probation, Your Honor,” Bill said.

  “Is the District Attorney in agreement with this?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” said a voice from the other table.

  “The court also imposes a three hundred dollar restitution to be paid before the probation is released,” the judge added.

  “Do you understand that you are entitled to a trial and are waiving that right?” the judge asked David.

  “I do,” David said when his lawyer nudged him.

  The judge droned on and on about David’s rights and what he was giving up. It was so formal. So real. And three hundred dollars? Another bill for Annie to pay. David didn’t have a job and his father wasn’t going to help. As for getting David to community service, that would be another one of her responsibilities while she planned for the move to New Jersey with her rebellious child.

  Maybe if she’d raised David better, if she hadn’t gotten divorced, if her ex wasn’t a drunk, this wouldn’t have happened. If the stupid corporation hadn’t made her transfer to New Jersey, this wouldn’t have happened. Her life coach was wrong. There was nothing she could do to change her life. Everyone around her needed to change first.

  A new voice emerged from her chorus. Really? Is that true?

  She was taken aback by the thought. Was she enabling David, just as she’d enabled Fred? What was her responsibility in this mess? Was she so busy taking care of everyone else that she wasn’t taking care of herself? Or worse yet, not letting them stand on their own two feet?

  She looked at her son thoughtfully. It was time for him to take responsibility for his actions. He’d have to figure out a way to pay the three hundred dollars by himself.

  • • •

  John looked around his rental house kitchen while his morning eggs sizzled on one of the two burners that actually worked. Décor from the 1950s, tired linoleum, and outdated appliances killed the spirit of his inner chef. He hadn’t made an omelet in months. The house was a temporary solution he reminded himself, only until he figured out where to set up permanent housekeeping.

  He quickly finishe
d up breakfast and dumped his plates in the sink to soak. Add a lack of a dishwasher to his list of woes. He had to find a new place to live.

  It certainly wasn’t going to be the west side of Santa Cruz, he thought as he left the house. The west side was overrun with college students, nice enough when they came into the store, but too many of them sported the dreadlocks and facial hardware of the counter culture.

  John sighed and thought of what Sunshine had said the day before. His manager was right; he was in a mood. Sunshine. People in Montana didn’t name their kids Sunshine.

  Yep, definitely grumpy, he thought as he drove toward downtown, ignoring the crystal clear day and rampant budding of trees, shrubs, and flowers. He threaded through the back streets toward the parking garage, feeling his mood sink further. Whatever prompted him to move to this damn town anyway?

  Abruptly, he zoomed past the garage entrance and headed back to Highway 1. Twenty minutes later he pulled into the Soquel ranch where he boarded Starfire. He gave a brief nod to the woman who owned the place as she headed toward her kitchen garden. Sweet nickers called to him from the barn and he smiled when he saw the chestnut quarter horse he’d owned for five years.

  Practiced habits of saddling and bridling soothed him. The smell of leather and horse recalled the wooded pines of the Rockies and his spread by the Bitterroot. Maybe moving to California hadn’t been the right choice. Had he come because he wanted to own his own bookstore? Or was he running away from painful memories? Starfire rubbed him with her head, as if sensing his need for comfort.

  As he rode toward Soquel Creek, John replayed the scene with Annie. He’d wanted to build a relationship with her. Surely there was some job around here for whatever it was she did. She’d tried explaining it to him, but anything to do with computers and the world “over the hill” in Silicon Valley held no interest. As far as he was concerned, the computer and the Internet were useful tools, but the high-tech companies surrounding it created a world of smoke and mirrors. People were forgetting how to have real conversations and solve real problems because they were lost in their “Second Life” on the computer.