by Jill Barnett
“Mom?” Laurel’s voice crackled from the intercom. “I have Cale with me.”
“Come on back.” Kathryn released the intercom and washed her hands at the sink, then Laurel came in, dragging a tall young man about twenty-one or twenty-two with her and laughing at something he’d said.
As Kathryn untied her apron, that deep sound of her child’s joy sank into her bones and blood. It had been so long since she’d heard Laurel laugh like that. The cause of that laughter was good-looking, golden in that California way, tanned and fit and blue-eyed, tall enough to grab attention in a full room. He was the reason Laurel stayed out late, came in with swollen lips, and said good night with a dream-spun look about her that made Kathryn unable to sleep.
“Mom, this is Cale.” Laurel watched her closely, nervously.
It didn’t take a genius to see this was important to Laurel. It just took a mother. Kathryn tucked her hair behind her ear, smiled, and shook his hand, which was big but warm and gentle. “Cale.”
“Mrs. Peyton.”
“So you’re the reason I hardly see my daughter anymore.”
“Yes, ma’am. I came to collect for taking her off your hands. But I’m going to have to charge you double. She’s a real pain.” His joke was so unexpected and refreshing that Kathryn laughed embarrassingly loud.
“Cale.” Laurel jammed her elbow into his ribs and said quietly, “Stop it.”
He doubled over, pretending to be in pain, and looked up at her as he was bent, gripping his ribs. “See what I mean?”
“I should have warned you, Mom.” Laurel crossed her arms. “He’s an idiot. And he goes to Loyola.”
“The Jesuits might have a problem with how you phrased that sentence, Laurel,” he said.
Her daughter laughed. “He’s not an idiot because he goes to Loyola. I said that wrong.”
The boy teased Laurel charmingly. No wonder she seemed so happy. But the look that passed between them made Kathryn feel old and uneasy. She didn’t know which was worse, Laurel moping around the house or falling for this boy who put his hands on her daughter’s bottom and lifted her against him for good night kisses.
“Cale’s going to medical school in the fall.” Laurel took hold of his hand and threaded her fingers through his.
All Kathryn could see was them standing on the porch, his hands all over Laurel. The fear in Laurel’s eyes that Kathryn couldn’t accept him. The rush of eagerness in Laurel’s voice. The possessiveness already tangible between the two. “Med school,” she managed to say. “That’s quite a challenge. Which school?”
“I’m not certain yet.” He glanced at his watch, then looked at Laurel.
“We’re going out in his boat, Mom.”
“I wanted to take Laurel to the Isthmus, Mrs. Peyton, then dinner at our place.”
Not yet. Kathryn wasn’t going to let them roll over her. “Are you over from the mainland with your family?”
“Just with my brother. You know, spring break and all. We keep a boat here all year. I promise it’s safe.”
“Who’s going to be on the boat?”
Laurel looked as if she were fighting back the need to say something.
“Just the two of us,” Cale said frankly.
Her daughter panicked, as if it just occurred to her that Kathryn might refuse to let her go. “Mom?”
“The boat is a runabout,” Cale cut in quickly. “It’s seaworthy and the engine runs perfectly. I’ve been on boats since I was eight, Mrs. Peyton, and I know this area well. We’ve had a place here for years and I grew up on these waters. I promise I wouldn’t take Laurel out unless it was safe. We’ll be back before dark. My brother’s planning on barbecuing.”
Kathryn looked at her daughter and her young man. Just let her, Kay. Just let her. She cut the cord. “Okay, then, you two. Have a good time.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Laurel, hurried over, kissed her, missing her cheek because she was in such a hurry to get back to holding the boy’s hand. “Bye!”
They disappeared through the door before Kathryn could take a breath. She stood there feeling mixed emotions and sat down for a minute. Laurel was happy, which was a good thing. He was funny, polite, and he had an easy way about him. She liked his sincerity and nothing about him rang false. Med school was a big commitment, demanding, with little time to sleep. He had drive and goals.
But Laurel could get hurt. He was a senior at Loyola, which meant he was over twenty-one to Laurel’s seventeen, eighteen in a few weeks. Laurel was on her own during the week and Kathryn had thought of it as no different from her daughter being away at college. Once Laurel was out of high school and working toward a career, Kathryn tried to let go. But her daughter was so young, and wanted so badly not to be. Already she appeared to be attached to this boy. In what, days?
You married Jimmy weeks after meeting him. She could hear Evie’s voice now, telling her what to think. Her sister was the voice of reason. Let go, Kay.
There was no answer, right or wrong, here. Kathryn checked her clothes for clay and dust, then left the studio and crossed the few stone flags that led into the back door of her shop.
Shannon was at the register and looked up. “Hi, Kathryn. Wow, I didn’t know Laurel was dating Cale Banning.”
“What did you say?”
“Cale Banning. His family is loaded. Really loaded. You’ve heard of Banning Oil, haven’t you? That’s his grandfather.”
Kathryn felt all the blood drain from her as Shannon rattled on about the family. “Banning?” It hurt to say the name.
“Yep.”
She moved toward the front door like a cipher. Outside, she ran from the courtyard into the street, looking both ways, before she raced to the corner of Crescent, the words of the woman in the market pounding in her head. They have a place here, you know.
The steamship had come into port earlier and the town and beach were crowded with mainlanders. She searched for Laurel’s pink sweater, for his tall, dark blond head. She walked down the sidewalk, between people, looking inside every storefront window. She wove her way across to the beach side of the street and stood on a bench, searching left and right.
The steamship blocked part of the harbor from view. She looked out toward the water, then jumped down and ran along the sand, searching for a runabout, trying to see her daughter near any of the boats moored closer to shore. A hundred footer. You can’t miss it. House at Hamilton Cove.
Kathryn frantically searched the bay, running down the beach, up onto the walkway, and all the way to the casino end of the harbor. She covered the whole waterfront. But they just weren’t there.
13
A woman stood away from the house, up on a rise in the secluded road that led to town. But Jud shrugged it off—tourists often walked out this far. He went inside, carrying a six-pack of beer and the last of the groceries from the golf cart. The house had been forgotten, except for Jud and his brother, who’d used it to escape the chaos of the mainland. Visitors didn’t come to the Banning house on Hamilton Cove, so when the doorbell rang it caught Jud by surprise, loud and sounding like microphone feedback.
The woman standing on the doorstep was a stranger. “I’m looking for my daughter. And Cale Banning.” She was fair-skinned—rare in a land of tans—with huge brown eyes and auburn hair. Her features were perfectly even, the kind born of good bones and genetic symmetry. If the daughter looked anything like the mother, no wonder Cale was tangled in love again.
“I’m Jud Banning. Cale’s brother.”
“Are they here?”
“I don’t think so. He told me he was taking the boat out, with a girl he met. I just came home but—” He stopped. The woman looked as if she were staring death in the face. Paleness came over her in gray waves he could actually see. “Are you okay?”
He caught her before she hit the ground. “Damn.” He kicked the door closed behind him and laid her on the sofa, then brought her a glass of water. Helpless, he stood over her. Should he throw it on her,
or feed it to her?
To his relief, she opened her eyes, disoriented, and sat up too fast and put her hand to her head.
“Whoa. Take it easy. Here. Drink this.” He handed her the glass and sat down next to her in case she keeled over again. She sipped it, then looked around the room, searching but looking cornered. Before, from a distance, he couldn’t see her fragility. Now, sitting next to her, she was like glass so thin if he touched her he thought she would shatter. “They aren’t here. The boat’s gone from the dock. But we can radio them through the coast guard.”
“No.” She stared out at the cove beyond. “No. I shouldn’t have come here. It’s not an emergency.” She stood up. “Don’t say anything to them when they come back. Please. Nothing is more embarrassing than me overreacting. I just wanted to tell her something and thought if I could catch them . . .” Her words drifted off as she walked away.
She didn’t convince him, and he wondered if she could possibly convince herself. “Wait.” Jud caught up with her at the front door. “Let me give you a ride back.”
“No.”
“I can’t let you walk back. You just fainted.” He tried to lighten the situation. “My father would turn over in his grave.” Her face went gray and he thought he might have to catch her again. “No argument. I’m taking you home.”
She nodded and he helped put her into the cart. Every few moments on the short drive to town, he would look at her, sitting next to him in complete silence. Her color was better, her hands folded in her lap, but she didn’t say anything until he asked for her address. He pulled up to the house on Descanso and killed the engine. All the way there his mind had been busy searching for answers why this woman was so upset. “He won’t hurt her.”
She studied him, looking for something, but only she knew what.
“Cale won’t hurt your daughter. If that’s what you’re worried about. He’s a good kid.”
“I shouldn’t have come. I met your brother. I just needed—I don’t know—I needed to tell Laurel something.”
“My brother’s the one who always gets his heart broken.”
“Thank you for the ride.” She stepped out. “Stay there. I’m not going to faint again. The heat.” She tossed off the excuse as she walked away.
Jud stared at the closed front door and thought that was one worried mother. The golf cart hummed back through town. Who was this girl Cale was involved with? His brother’s girls were always trouble. He supposed he’d get an idea tonight. Dinner would be his opportunity to watch her closely, to see what kind of daughter this emotional woman raised. Back home, he parked the golf cart in the driveway. His brother was so stupid when it came to women. Same old pattern, he thought, then he heard the phone ringing and ran for the house.
Tonight Laurel and Jud would meet, and Cale was feeling anxious. He didn’t know which was more important: what Jud thought of Laurel or what Laurel thought of Jud, of him, of the Bannings. He didn’t analyze why it was important. It just was. Maybe all of it was important.
At half past five, they walked in the front door. Laurel stood in the open room looking around while Cale slipped off his jacket and hung it on a chair. In all the years he had come into this house, he had never thought of what it looked like through another’s eyes.
Outside the wide windows, the weathered dock and blue-gray water stood off in the distance. That was the best of it. Nondescript pieces of furniture here and there. Ceramic lamps with white shades that disappeared against the same-color walls. An ugly starburst clock hung between a few metal-framed blurry black-and-white photos of Catalina fifty years before. The house was bland, flat, and unimaginative, as if it were designed by the kind of person who ordered vanilla ice cream when there were thirty-one other flavors.
Nothing of them was there. Not a single photo of Jud, Victor, himself, or of any people for that matter, and he wondered if that in itself didn’t say what was wrong with the Bannings. He was suddenly self-conscious, feeling as if he were empty and nothing, and she would see that and not want him anymore.
He’d been inside Laurel’s house one afternoon, where there had been photos in frames on the walls and tables, pictures of her from when she was small, with her mom, her grandmother, her aunt, with friends. Her life caught in single snapshots. He had relaxed in a comfortable chair in the small living room, drinking a Coke while she’d changed clothes. The lamp on the table next to him had been clear glass and filled with hundreds of seashells. Later she told him that she and her mother collected those shells, which were cracked and chipped, the kind that washed up on the shore, instead of the highly polished perfect ones anyone could buy in gift shops near the California beaches.
Her mother’s wild pottery had been everywhere, on shelves and against walls that were the same yellow as a new Corvette. The room had fresh flowers in crazy-formed pottery vases on every table, and the whole place smelled clean and sweet the way women did.
Inside his dull island house the only thing Cale could smell was gym socks and beer. Two empty Coors bottles were on the table, his old tennis shoes under it. Yet standing in the middle of the flat landscape of his life was a wonderful girl, wearing a pink fuzzy sweater and tight yellow pants, a brightly printed scarf and dark pink lipstick. The two visions were linked in his mind: his monochromatic life and Laurel standing there in full Technicolor. He had the strongest urge to wrap his arms around her and hold her until that color became part of him, too.
“Where’s your brother?”
He looked around. “I don’t know. He’s here somewhere. Jud!” He headed for the kitchen, then out back. The deck was empty and so was the dock. The boat had its canvas cover snapped in place.
“Cale,” Laurel called out. “I don’t think he’s here.” A yellow smiley-face magnet held a scribbled note to the fridge.
Called back home on company business. Apologies to Laurel about dinner. Enjoy the steaks.—J
“I guess you won’t meet my brother tonight. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. I’m sure we’ll have another chance to meet.”
“Actually, that apology was for me. Jud was going to cook. If I have to barbecue those steaks we’re in trouble.”
“Since one of us is training to be a chef, I expect that’s a nonsubtle hint.” She opened cabinets and the refrigerator, pulling out jars and spices and more, then pointed at a high cabinet near the stove. “Can you get that bottle for me, please?”
“This one?”
“Thanks.”
He leaned against the counter, watching her.
“You’re in the way.” She shooed him away from the range.
He moved behind her and slid his hands over her. “I need to do something useful.”
She turned around right into his kiss. After a couple of minutes she pulled away and rested her forehead against his chest, her breathing rapid. “This scares me, Cale.”
“Don’t be afraid.”
“Be easy with me.”
“I won’t push you.” He wanted to make her happy, to make her love him. She gave meaning to an empty dark place inside of him, a place that could all too easily pull him down to where he had to face all the wrong choices he’d made. He rested his chin on her head and could smell Prell shampoo and something sweet and rare like wild island honey.
She didn’t move immediately, but seemed to be sorting out things for herself. When she stepped away, she was smiling and happy, no worry in her expression. He exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.
“Ever heard of steak Diane?”
“No.”
“Well, get ready because you’re going to get to know it intimately.”
“Sounds good. I like watching you work.”
“You’ve got it wrong.” She slid her arms around him and tied a silly red apron around his waist. “You’ll know it intimately by cooking it yourself”
“I burn toast, Laurel. I’ll screw up those steaks.”
“I’ll stand nearby with the fire
extinguisher.”
“But you’re the chef”
“Stop whining. I can cook. You’re the one who needs lessons. So, here are our new roles: I’m going to teach. You’re going to learn.”
He laughed because she was laughing. Laurel was fresh air in a stale and airless room, and as she stood behind him, tying a ruffled apron around his waist, Cale knew cooking wasn’t the only thing she was going to teach him.
Kathryn lay on her bed with her arm over her eyes as she had on that singular night thirteen years ago. But in her hand was a yellowed newspaper clipping.
Heir to Banning Oil Dies in Accident That Kills Rock Guitarist Peyton
Rudolph Victor Banning and his wife, artist Rachel Espinosa Banning, were killed in an auto accident in Los Angeles Friday night. Witnesses said Banning’s car, a 1956 Ford Fairlane, ran a red light and hit a Chevrolet station wagon driven by the manager for rock guitarist and recording artist Jimmy Peyton. Both the manager and Peyton died at the scene. Also in the station wagon were three members of Peyton’s band, the Fireflies—Bobby Healy, Howard Went, and John Massey, who were treated for burns and are in serious condition.
Witnesses reported that Banning’s car sped through the intersection and hit the gas tank of the station wagon, which burst into flames. Heir of oil magnate Victor Banning, Rudy Banning and his wife are survived by their two young sons, ages eight and twelve. Peyton, a Seattle-based musician whose recordings have topped the music charts, leaves behind a wife, Kathryn Fleming Peyton, and a four-year-old daughter.
The children weren’t named. In those days, journalists protected the innocent. She understood that Laurel, Cale, and Jud were the true victims of that senseless accident. If she wanted to tell Laurel who the Bannings were to the Peytons because her daughter needed to know the truth, well, that was very different from telling her daughter only because she wanted to keep her away from one of the Banning sons. Truthfully, she was scared about any boy Laurel fell for. Was a Banning worse?