Close Match

by Jerald, Tracey

  “That sounds…” Disappointing Ev and Char won’t be there when we arrive but on the other hand… “Good.”

  With a broad smile, Monty takes off. By the time we hit the highway, I have a newfound appreciation for Jaguars. As much as I’m clutching the door handle, I wonder if even the police could keep up with us as we speed westward.

  * * *

  “Okay, I take it back.”

  “What’s that?” Monty asks. We’re waiting in line to get our coffee, and the smells infiltrating my nose are changing my mind from earlier.

  “That sandwich in the display case looks delicious.” My stomach gives a deep growl as if to back me up.

  Monty bursts out laughing. “Not hungry at all?” he teases me as we step up to order. “Hey, Amy. How about we try a Mosby, a Federal, I’ll have a large dark roast and…” He turns to me.

  “A medium caramel mocha latte,” I add on. “What did you order anyway?” I ask curiously.

  Monty grabs one of the menus in front of us and holds it out to me. “Which one of us is eating which?” Because both sound delicious.

  “I’ll make sure the sandwiches are cut in half,” our cashier, Amy, assures me. “This way, you don’t have to choose. Soup or salad?”

  “Salad for me,” I interject.

  “The soup,” Monty says.

  “Okay, that will be…” I don’t wait. I’m shoving my card into her hands.

  “To say thank you for picking me up at the airport,” I explain when Monty squawks in protest.

  “You won’t be so quick the next time, Linnie,” he growls.

  I shrug. It’s this time that mattered.

  “Since we’re slow right now, I’ll bring your food out to you in just a few minutes,” Amy assures us.

  Turning, I spy a table near the old stone fireplace. “Do you mind if we sit over there?”

  “Not at all.”

  Moments later, I’m being warmed by the fire crackling when a sweet dog comes up and butts his head against my leg. “Hey there, gorgeous.”

  “That’s Cody,” Amy says as she drops off our drinks. “He’s completely friendly.” I immediately reach down and scratch behind his ear. “And he just became your new best friend,” she laughs. “When you’re ready to eat, just tell him to lie down. He won’t beg too much.”

  “Thanks, Amy,” Monty calls out as he takes a pull of his coffee.

  “My pleasure.” She scurries away. I’m picking up my glass to take a drink when I notice the pumpkin drawn in chocolate over the foam.

  “No way! Did you see this?” I exclaim. I stop scratching Cody, who whines pathetically. Monty laughs and resumes my job petting him while I pull out my cell, take a shot, and send it to Bristol. Picking it up, I murmur, “If it’s half as good as it looks…” Then I take a sip.

  “This mug holds liquid heaven. After the crap I dealt with while I was away, I’m being given a reward.”

  Monty frowns. “You didn’t enjoy the time with your sister?”

  “Oh, no. Not that. Never. Bris is wonderful. The baby is healthy and growing. There was other crap I had to deal with that was unpleasant.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he offers. I open my mouth to say no automatically, but something makes me want to say yes.

  “Can I take a rain check on that?”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer. It’s just all twisted up with emotions about my Mom I’m not ready to face yet.”

  His sharp eyes narrow over the rim of his cup. “The offer doesn’t have a time limit, Linnie. And as you might have noticed, I’m not going anywhere.” His voice holds a wry note of self-deprecation. I tip my head to the side. I’m just about to ask him why not when Amy arrives with our sandwiches.

  And suddenly, I’m not just hungry; I’m ravenous.

  Picking up one half of the delicious-looking cheesy jalapeño bread, I take a bite. My teeth sink into the nutty gruyère and the tangy mustard before I reach the salty ham. “Twisissogwood,” I mumble even as I’m trying to take the next bite.

  Monty barks out a laugh. “Are you going to give me my half of that?”

  Do I want to give up the other half of this deliciousness to the unknown? Monty takes the decision out of my hands by holding his sandwich across the table. “Come on,” he coaxes. “You know you want to give it a try.”

  I manage to swallow down the bite despite the intensity that just settled over us.

  “Give in. Who knows when you’ll have the chance again?” he murmurs. And somehow, we’re talking about lunch, and we’re not.

  And we both know it.

  But I’m not ready.

  “I’m content for now.” Even as the words come out of my mouth, they settle my mind but disturb my soul.

  “You don’t seem like the kind of woman where being content is enough.”

  “What makes you think you know me?” I’m mildly offended. We might be living in the same house, but our interactions have been relatively limited. While I spent my last visit getting to know Ev and Char, Monty was working hard. And when I had some downtime, he was sleeping. Our schedules have never seemed to mesh.

  Until now.

  Putting down his sandwich, Monty leans forward. “Because I studied your emails. I looked for some clue about who you are. Despite my promise to Ev, if something had set off alarms about you, there’s no way you’d have got near him. What I read was a woman who is both intelligent and sharp. She’s also looking for adventure, whether she’s willing to admit it to herself or not.”

  “What if I told you Bris wrote those emails?”

  “Then I’d tell you that you were lying. I may not be an active investigator, but I used to specialize in interrogation. You can’t lie worth a damn.”

  Shit. Throwing him a mock glare, I sigh. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe that’s who I needed to be. Maybe I’m always acting, and for the first time, I’m trying to figure out who I am without a role to play.”

  Monty’s taken aback. “You think that we’re not all acting to get through life? Wasn’t it Shakespeare who said ‘All the world’s a stage’?”

  “Yes, but…” I’m not allowed to finish. But his words cause me to freeze just as I’m about to sit back.

  “We’re all acting. Every one of us. We all have our grief and pain that latch on and refuse to let go.” He sits back and picks up his sandwich. Tearing off a bite, he focuses on chewing while I’ve lost all interest in food.

  Monty’s words hit me hard. Whether by purpose or by accident, I’m being forced to confront who I am. “I think it’s the idea of not knowing who I was, that the expectations were changing,” I say slowly.

  “Why did your expectations change?” He asks.

  “Because I did.” My voice is firm. “A whole half of myself I thought I knew as intimately as…a lover…was just gone. Dead as much as my mother was. How am I supposed to embrace this part of me that’s been living there all the while?”

  “Seems to me you’re making it harder on yourself than you have to.” Monty takes another bite of his sandwich.

  “Why?” I challenge him. Picking up my coffee, I take a sip. The silkiness of the caramel and mocha slide down my throat. The combination works, just like I thought my life did.

  “Because regardless, life continues. You just have to figure out what you’re going to do to cope.”

  Monty’s words echo in my head long after we leave the coffee shop and head back to the farm. They ricochet through my head after he lugs the heaviest suitcases into the kitchen. As I unpack it to put the goodies from New York away, he graciously takes my other cases up to the suite of rooms Ev and Char declared as mine.

  But when I get upstairs, I don’t unpack. I throw open the bag which I know has my dance clothes. I find a pair of leggings and a ratty tee and throw them on. Slipping a pair of worn sneakers on my feet, I quickly braid my hair before racing from the bedroom and down the stairs.

  I know of
one way to cope. And it involves losing myself to the rhythm and music as quickly as I can.

  Thirty-Two

  Montague

  I’m standing at my bedroom window on the opposite floor of the house as Linnie’s. Mine overlooks the backyard, so I get a full view of her sprinting single-mindedly out the back door like the fires of hell are licking at her feet, her braid flying. I feel a stirring inside of me. And it’s like my body and my mind finally have a conversation far too long denied. Long legs were whipping past me on a crowded city street. A body that lightly bumping into mine. My body’s instinctive reaction as I turn to catch her from behind.

  I was trained to notice details.

  How did I not put it together before now?

  Linnie was that long-ago woman on the streets of New York, pushing her body in a grueling workout just hours after she had sung her heart out on stage. Closing my eyes, I pull out the details of the runner from my memory bank. It fits. I was hanging around Central Park waiting for Ev and Mom, which happens to be near Linnie’s home in the city. She mentioned in passing her home is around the city’s infamous park. Groaning aloud, I wonder how many other times our lives brushed up against each other before they entwined.

  I guess we’ll never know.

  The cell in my pocket rings. Absentmindedly, I answer it. “Yeah?”

  “Hello to you too, son.” My mother’s voice comes out as dry as the fall leaves beginning to dry on the trees outside. “Did I interrupt something?”

  I bark out a laugh. How do I answer this? Yeah, I was busy realizing the reason I have a mild obsession for Ev’s daughter. Nothing to concern yourself with. Just a little fantasy I’ve had since New York. I’ll get a grip on it later. Instead, I reply, “Everything’s good here. What about on your end?”

  “Right as rain,” Mom chirps. “We were thinking of celebrating another good month by going out to eat. Which do you think Linnie would like better, Eddie Merlot’s or Rail Stop?”

  “Rail Stop,” I reply immediately.

  “You think so?” Mom says, doubtfully.

  “More low-key. Besides, she just took off for the studio.” I turn back toward the window. “I’d hate to interrupt her right now.”

  “Then Rail Stop it is. We should be home in an hour,” Ev announces.

  “More like an hour and twenty with this traffic.”

  “Right. So, let’s plan on leaving for dinner in a few hours? Can you let Linnie know?”

  I want to dive through the phone and give my mother a huge kiss on the cheek for giving me the excuse to seek her out. “Of course.” Making my way over to the bar, I debate pouring a small measure of bourbon and throwing it back but decide against it. “Happy to.”

  “Great. We’ll talk to you later, honey.” Mom disconnects. I put the crystal tumbler down on the bar before I wander back over to the window again.

  I wonder what else Linnie does in her studio beside dance. I guess I’m about to find out.

  * * *

  A soundtrack is blaring through the high-priced stereo system as I slip in unnoticed. She’s spinning barefoot, her long dark hair unbraided, flying around her. Her back to me, she plants her feet as her hips sway. “Life should be more!” Her voice reverberates in the room.

  I realize she’s singing one of the large cast numbers from Miss Me, and my heart thumps wildly in my chest. Quietly, I shuffle to the side. “Don’t let your chance slip away. Reach out and grab it.” She flings her arm out as she spins around before she goes up on the ball of her foot. If I remember correctly, this is a dance where she partnered with the male lead. Waiting for a beat, she begins to scissor her legs back and forth while racing across the floor.

  It’s like walking into a dream. The pulsing throb of the music sets my blood humming to the same beat. Quietly, I close the door behind me. Leaning back, I admire the seductive way her hips roll. I wonder if they move that smoothly when she’s not dancing. Chastising myself, I tune back in to hear her sing. “Grab a hold… It’s your chance…” She performs a series of spins before leaping into the air. God, I remember when she did that on stage. She was—is—like lightning.

  Just as the music begins to wane, she strikes a pose. I call out, not wanting to scare her, “Wasn’t that dance for two?”

  “Jesus Christ!” Linnie stumbles. I straighten away from the wall, automatically reaching out to catch her. “I had no idea you were there!”

  “I wouldn’t have thought you would mind an audience?” After all, this is a woman who’s performed in front of thousands of strangers throughout her career.

  A look of pain crosses her face. “I haven’t sung a single song from Miss Me since Mom died.” She walks over to the remote sitting on top of the bar. She presses the Pause button and the music cuts off. “I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to.”

  I take in the vulnerability in her stance, the graceful arms that were swinging in the air moments ago now wrapped around herself protectively. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

  “You had no idea. I figured if there were a place where I could try, it would be here. There’s nothing here to remind me of her.” Linnie shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but I know the truth. It’s a monumental step in her path towards healing. Linnie rocks her foot back and forth as if her body can’t not be moving when it’s ready to dance.

  “What was she like? The mom, not the actress.” Brielle Brogan was a legend. It’s hard to imagine the mother inside.

  Linnie’s face lights with a glow. “She was crazy practical about some things and insanely ludicrous about others. She helped with homework and then said, ‘So what?’ to Dad—Patrick—when it was all wrong. She’d argue that she tried and that it was just as important to teach us that as it was to show us the right answer.” I nod because it seems a good lesson for kids to learn. Linnie continues. “When we got older, she’d get the wildest ideas. There was one time when she…the balloons.” Linnie’s voice trails off as she starts laughing. “God, with everything going on, I’d forgotten all about that. I can’t remind Bris about it. I may have to do it for her as a baby gift.”

  “What did she do?” The look in her bright green eyes is addicting. Her face lit with joy that radiates around the room.

  Linnie proceeds to tell me how Brielle sent a gift to Bristol at college where she flooded the young girl’s on-campus apartment with balloons in the school’s colors. “It took Bris forever to navigate her way to her bedroom to be able to call Mom. The ribbons from them took up every inch of floor space.” Then, much to my surprise, she begins to sing.

  My heart was filled with pain,

  I’ll be with you wherever you go,

  I’ll be with you whenever,

  Forgive me,

  Our love is forever.

  Miss me no more.

  The tears streaming down her face aren’t of laughter, they’re from pain. It’s the kind pain that embeds itself into your soul and clutches onto your heart with talons made out of love. When Linnie looks at me, she’s weighed down by it. “We were singing that song when she collapsed into my arms. Unless you’d seen the show before, you’d never have known there was anything wrong. But I knew. I knew my mom down to my soul, Monty. And I had to wait with her in my arms knowing there was something wrong.” Her hands raise to cover her face.

  There’s no way I can passively stand there watching her grief. Taking a few giant steps forward, I pull her into my arms. Holding her against my chest, I feel the shaking of her body against mine. “I’m sorry.” The words seem so inadequate in comparison to the grief she’s feeling.

  She nods, her face still cocooned in her hands, but I feel the motion. I hold her tightly, not offering any words, just physical comfort.

  Right now, it seems to be enough.

  Slowly, she shifts. I loosen my arms to let her go. “I don’t know what brought you here, but I appreciate the shoulder to lean on.”

  “Well, technically, it was my chest.” The corners of her lips tip up as was my inten
tion. “But it was nothing. Anytime.”

  She puts space between us by moving over to the bar and picking up a bottle of water to drink. “Why did you come in here anyway?”

  Crap. With everything else, I forgot about dinner. “Mom called. She doesn’t feel like cooking,” I lie glibly, feeling like absolute shit for doing so. This woman doesn’t need more lies; she deserves the truth. “So, we’re going to take you to one of our favorite places to eat.”

  “Does it mean dressing up?”

  With the freedom to give her a head-to-toe once-over, I shrug. “You might want to dig out something other than Lycra.”

  “How much time do I have?” Linnie slams the cap back on her water. Her head snaps back and forth in search of something—ah, her shoes. I suppress a smile as she dashes from one to the other, then hops as she slips them on her feet.

  “I’d say about—” I check my watch. “—forty-five minutes?”

  “There’s no way I’ll be ready in time!” She races to the door and dashes out. I’m beginning to realize Linnie Brogan doesn’t slow down for much.

  Strolling out the door behind her, I call out, “Don’t worry, I’ll shut everything off!”

  “Thanks!” she calls back as she runs down the path toward the house.

  I lean against the jamb as she runs, admiring her for the second time that day.

  Only this time, I’m just as close as I was that morning in New York. There’s no doubt in my mind now. It was Linnie I saw running outside of the park. Whistling, I head back inside, turn off the sound equipment, flick off the lights, and turn the bottom lock before heading back to change.

  Because as much as I’m looking forward to the food, it’s the company I know I’ll be spending time with that has me walking a little more rapidly.

  Thirty-Three

  Evangeline

  There’s no doubt something’s changed between Monty and me. Ever since last week when I broke down in the studio, things are just more intimate, like there’s a secret between the two of us no one else knows about. I dash down the stairs, trying to avoid holding up breakfast for the others. I spent most of the night twisting and turning in bed thinking about Montague Parrish and realizing that for a man who’s consuming my thoughts, I know so very little about him.