A Time to Mend

by Sally John

He vaulted over that thought and landed in another place.

  He was back at the beginning, and he remembered it as if it were yesterday. He’d been in college, studying in the library. October. Ten o’clock at night. His last year. A stranger walked past his table. Their eyes met. He smiled. She smiled. Her name was Claire Lambert.

  Hokey as it sounded, he’d been smitten. Totally, head-over-heels, dizzily so.

  He still was. Always had been.

  What had happened? Claire wouldn’t . . .

  Max glanced at Neva. Her brows raised a fraction of an inch. She knew their history. Not the details, but she’d been there when things happened, close enough to catch the drift that walking out had at one point been a very real option.

  She uncrossed her legs. “So maybe turning fifty-three is throwing her for a loop. It happens.” She shrugged. “One of life’s mysteries. You’ll work it out over the weekend.”

  Phil tapped a pen on his knee. “I don’t know, bud. You’d better get the earrings to go with that diamond necklace.”

  Max smiled. “I called the jeweler first thing.”

  Phil chuckled. Neva lowered her gaze to the notebook on her lap.

  They knew he’d chosen a special necklace for Claire’s birthday gift and debated about including the earrings. The price of the necklace alone wasn’t exactly understated. Its style was, though. Its style was pure Claire.

  He glanced at the five by seven of her on his desk. She had those classic high cheekbones and chin-length, light-brown hair. The recently added bifocals with rectangular lenses framed in lavender gave her a certain dignity. She always wore tailored clothes, always radiated serenity.

  Until this morning.

  “That commercial’s getting a little stale, don’t you think?”

  “If you go, I won’t be here when you get home.”

  Max massaged a tight knot at the back of his neck.

  Seven

  Jenna Beaumont Mason closed up her cell phone and slid it inside the zippered pouch of the beach bag that lay beside her on the blanket. Why wasn’t her mom answering or calling her back?

  A movement at the ocean’s edge caught her attention. She straightened her Gucci sunglasses and leaned back on her elbows to enjoy the delicious view of her husband as he strode from the water and through the sand.

  On second thought, he didn’t stride. He swaggered. Kevin Dean Mason was indeed a hottie. Six feet even. Shoulders from here to Timbuktu. Brick-house solid all the way down to his toes. Flaxen-shaded hair, buzzed short, like during his stint in the Marines. Eyes the color of a night sky when the first stars winked on. His bronzed skin glistened with water.

  “Hey.” He grinned, a meandering lift of first one corner of his wide mouth, then the other, until finally the lips parted.

  “Hey, yourself.”

  He sat on the blanket, his damp leg brushing against hers.

  “Yow!” She jerked upright. “You’re freezing!”

  “Sorry, babe.”

  He scooted away, and she scooted nearer. “Oh, that’s okay. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t have goose bumps already. You are one fine-looking dude.”

  Laughing, he slid on his sunglasses and propped his elbows on his bent knees. “And you are one hot chick, which is the only reason I left those perfect waves.”

  “We’re hopeless.”

  She leaned over and kissed the tattoo on his upper arm. Years ago tats had been a definite turnoff—in her top ten of “Yuck Factors in Guys.” That was before Kevin walked into her life three years ago. And now there she was, kissing a Semper fi banner under an eagle perched on her husband’s bicep. She accepted it as part of his past, kind of like her boxed Madame Alexander dolls that took up an entire closet shelf.

  He nuzzled her cheek. “Want to go out for dinner and a movie tonight?”

  “Hmm. Is the good-looking dude asking the hot chick out on a date?”

  “Most definitely. It’s time to celebrate.”

  “What are we celebrating?”

  “School’s out, and football practice doesn’t start for two weeks. I feel like a kid who has nothing to do but play with his best buddy.”

  She leaned against him. “Oh, Kevin. Our life is beginning to resemble a fairy tale, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t remember any fairy tales with plain old high school teachers in them.”

  “So we’ll write our own script.” She thought about how he was finished with the military, teacher certification classes, and assistant coaching. He was head football coach now and taught PE in the same building where she taught English. “We get to flirt between classes and spend half the summer lounging at the beach. Last but not least, we have no big outstanding debts. How fabulous is that?”

  “Hmm. Did you say no big outstanding debts? Then why is it we taught summer school?”

  She smiled. “Well, in this fairy tale there’s no rich prince or princess, so we take on extra jobs. But that’s okay, because we have something far better than money and eons of idle time: we’re committed to helping teenagers.”

  “Which means we’re fruitcakes. Now how fabulous is that?” His laughter was infectious.

  “Hey,” he said, “your shoulders are turning pink. I’ll put some more sunscreen on them.”

  “Thanks.” She lay down on her stomach.

  “Who was on the phone?”

  “Phone?”

  “I saw you on your cell.” His hand glided over her back, the lotion cool against her warm skin.

  “I was calling Mom.”

  “Again?”

  “Yeah, she’s still not answering.”

  “You know she had a good time last night.”

  “Definitely. I haven’t seen her laugh that much in ages. I guess I just wanted to relive it with her.” She didn’t try to explain further. Kevin was clueless when it came to mother-daughter emotional connections. “We did a good job on this one, didn’t we? Those chef out-fits Erik got were so great.”

  “Yeah. He seems to know everybody in San Diego County.”

  “Or else they know him.”

  “Guess that comes from being a hotshot TV news anchor.” He rubbed the lotion over her shoulders. “Your mom wasn’t laughing while she was talking to your dad.”

  “The Putz.”

  “I’ve been thinking. Maybe we shouldn’t be so quick to call him that.”

  “Kevin, he didn’t come for her surprise party. That’s like the rudest thing I’ve ever seen him do. Or not do.”

  “But he had good reason.”

  She whiffed her disdain. “Good excuse, you mean.”

  “The plane broke.”

  “The dog ate my homework.”

  “Not the same thing. You know, I really respect your dad. He’s got a job to do, and he does it. He’s totally focused. He would have made an excellent Marine.”

  Jenna rolled onto her back to scowl at him. “His priorities are all mucked up. They always have been.”

  Kevin shrugged. “Four kids. A huge house. His own business. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

  “Four grown-up kids who don’t need his money, and a house that’s all but paid for. And he’s got a gazillion assistants. He doesn’t have to do it anymore.”

  “But it’s his life. His passion.”

  She stuck out her tongue.

  “Did I mention he also has one extremely spoiled princess of a daughter, who still likes her big birthday and Christmas checks that could pay almost a year’s rent on our apartment? And her name is not Alexis.”

  “I may change my mind about that date.”

  He chuckled.

  A tinny version of “We Are Family” rang out from her beach bag. “It’s Mom.”

  Kevin groaned and lay down on his back.

  “I have to talk to her.” Jenna pulled out her cell. “Mom. Hi!”

  “Hi, honey. Did you need something? You called four times.”

  She’d been eager to hear her mom’s reaction to the surprise
din-ner. “I was just wondering how you were after your big night.”

  “Oh, uh, fine. It was a . . . a fun evening. You guys really outdid yourselves. Thank you again, hon.”

  “Are you okay? You sound funny.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Not much. What are you doing?”

  “Kevin and I are at the beach. Del Mar. It’s so great to be off school together. No papers to grade. No lesson plans to write. No place we have to go.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “You must be packing for San Francisco?” Jenna waited through a silence long enough to prompt her to say, “Mom? Are you still there?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Her mother’s voice sounded like a choke.

  “Mom! What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry.” Jenna listened as her mother inhaled loudly and her voice went up an octave. “It’s really not a big deal. I thought I could talk and explain.”

  “Explain what?”

  At the sound of Jenna’s panicked tone, Kevin sat up and touched her leg. She shrugged at his puzzled expression.

  “Mom?”

  There was a loud exhale. “I packed, but I’m not going to San Francisco. I’m going to Tandy’s.”

  “Huh?”

  “I—I’ll explain later, okay?” Tears filled her mom’s voice. “Don’t worry, hon. I just want a little space for a couple days. I’ll call you soon. Bye.”

  The line went dead.

  Jenna stared at the phone. A wave of disbelief gushed through her, quickly overswept by one of dread. Her mother had packed her bags to go to a friend’s house less than an hour away?

  Now anger steamrolled its way through her. Leave it to her dad to barge in and tear apart a perfectly good fairy tale. What a putz.

  Eight

  I shouldn’t have told her, Tandy.” Claire strode along-side her friend. “It was way too much information for Jenna.”

  “What’s done is done.” The redhead pumped her elbows and blew out a breath. “Let’s pick up the speed a bit, shall we? There’s a reason they call this power walking. You’re going to feel the power, Claire. You’re going to feel the burn. It’s going to tell you that Claire Beaumont is a woman! A woman who knows her own mind and isn’t afraid to speak it! Ooh-rah!”

  Claire’s legs were longer than Tandy’s, but she had never been able to keep pace with her. They’d met ages ago, when Erik and Jenna were in elementary school with Tandy’s son and daughter. Since then they’d powered through thousands of miles together.

  “I appreciate the pep talk.” Claire spoke between huffs as they zipped along block after block, past one identical condominium building after another, the same six palm trees in front of each.

  “Pep talk, schmep talk. It’s the truth.”

  “Jenna will tell the others.”

  “So? Somebody’s got to. No reason for you to blubber through three more phone calls with your kids.”

  “But they don’t really need to know. There really isn’t anything to know at this point. I mean, Max and I had an argument. Granted, that’s not a common occurrence, but, really. What’s the big deal? I packed and—” She stopped midsentence. “I didn’t really move out, did I?”

  “The sooner you admit it, the sooner you can deal with it.”

  “But I’m a Christian. Christian wives don’t move out.”

  “What am I, chopped liver?”

  “It was different for you. Trevor was cheating on you and refused to end it and was mean to you.”

  “Maybe—in another sense—Max is cheating on you.”

  Claire shook her head. “No. He’s not. And I don’t think I’ve literally moved out. Physically, yes, for now. I just want some space.”

  “Anyway, sweetie, don’t worry about tomorrow. Take it one day at a time. Trust me. You will get through this.”

  She glanced sideways at her old friend. Tandy echoed the exact words Claire had preached to her on more than one occasion. The first was seven years ago, the night Tandy had kicked her husband out of the house. Another time was right after she’d signed the divorce papers. Then there was the day they’d locked up her house and followed the moving van to her new home, a condo forty minutes away. And her daughter’s wedding, when Tandy was forced to share every special moment with her ex-husband’s new wife.

  “Hey.” Tandy reached over and lightly punched her shoulder. “Max may be a putz, but he’s no Trevor the Toad. Okay? He’s no babe mag-net. He has no Big-Hair Bimbo from Bishop waiting in the wings.”

  Claire nodded. Max would never expect her to pose for a family photo with his second wife. Would he?

  She raised her elbows higher and tried to pump away all such crazy notions. It didn’t work. Something inside her vibrated with a sense of dread she hadn’t felt in a long time. True, Max was not a babe magnet. But he was winsome. He was personable to a fault. He hugged freely and frequently. People liked him. Women adored him. Why wouldn’t he have someone waiting in the wings?

  With the intensity of an eighteen-wheeler rumbling over her entire body, the sense of dread gave way to the full-on assault of an old fear.

  That woman in the wings would be Neva.

  Nine

  In their apartment’s living room, Jenna stretched on her tiptoes, grasped Kevin’s face between her hands, and kissed the pout on his mouth.

  “Kev, this will only take a few minutes. Come on, give me a smile, big guy.”

  He kept his hands propped on his waist and those fabulous lips of his angled off center.

  She grinned. “You’re kind of cute when you’re miffed.”

  At last he relaxed and put his arms around her waist. “I’m not miffed.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “It’s just time to go. While you were getting ready, I made reservations.”

  “You did? For where?”

  “I’m not telling.” He winked. “But egg rolls and downtown are involved.”

  “At Horton Plaza? You don’t like that place!”

  “You do, though. I thought it might cheer you up.”

  “Oh, Kevin, it sounds perfect. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, but we gotta go—like, now, or we won’t get to the movie in time.”

  “Okay, okay. I just need five minutes. Ten, max. I have to call Erik and the twins.”

  “Call them from the car.”

  “I can’t.” She shook her head. “Kevin, Mom just left Dad! It’s not a car conversation.”

  “Hey.” His voice a whisper, he lowered his face toward hers. “Pretty lady.”

  All concerns drained from her on the spot. It was his magic—his nearness, his navy blue eyes zeroing in on her, the way he uttered his pet name for her. Like a magnetic field, they pulled her up and out from anxiety.

  She smiled softly. “My true north speaks.”

  “Yeah.” He rested his forehead against hers. “Listen. I love your folks. They’re the greatest. I’ve never known such support outside of the military. But, Jen. This junk happens. It’s called life. You just gotta keep on truckin’.” He leaned back with a grin. “And let me cheer you up.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  “But the thing is—”

  He groaned his exasperation, rolling his eyes.

  “Let me finish. The thing is, it’s my family.” She tapped his bicep. “It’s like your semper fee thing.”

  “Semper fi. Long i.”

  “I knew that.” Stupid Marines. “It means ‘always faithful.’ Same for the Beaumonts. I wouldn’t exactly be a loyal sister if I kept them in the dark about this, would I? It’d be like leaving them behind.”

  Kevin growled and hugged her tightly. “You are goofy, Jenna Mason.”

  “But you love me.”

  “I love you. I’m crazy about you. Or maybe I’m just plain crazy.”

  She nestled against him. Poor guy. He hadn’t grown up in a close-knit family. His divorced parents lived in Indiana, and he only had one sib
ling—a sister, much older—who lived in New Jersey. Even though they didn’t see much of each other anymore, Jenna still had good memories of her childhood with her siblings—the kind Kevin didn’t have, the kind that kept them tight through the tough times.

  Eventually he would come to understand what family ties meant.

  Jenna broke the news to Erik first.

  “It’s about time,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “Mom’s put up with Dad long enough.”

  “Well, I agree he can be disrespectful, not showing up on time for things.”

  “Or even at all. Beginning twenty years ago, with my ball games and your music recitals.”

  “But it’s not like he has a girlfriend or beats Mom or doesn’t pay bills. You don’t think he has a girlfriend, do you?”

  “When would he have time for one?”

  “Yeah. Gosh! They’ve been married for thirty-two years! Thirty-three next month! They must love each other. Nobody stays married for that long.”

  “Convenience, Jen. I remember helping Brett Abbott move his mom into the condo.” He referred to his childhood friend, Tandy’s son. “And then his sister’s wedding fiasco. What a mess. Mom was right there with Tandy through the whole thing. I’m sure she’d just as soon pretend everything was hunky-dory with her and Dad rather than go that route.”

  “She can be an ostrich.”

  “Exactly. I have to get to work. Thanks for calling. I guess.”

  “I thought you should know.”

  “I’ll call Mom.”

  “Oh, Erik, it’s her birthday tomorrow, and they were going to San Francisco! After all this, do you think Dad will even remember?”

  “Who knows? Who cares? Listen, Jen, this junk happens. Okay? You gotta let it go. Tell Kevin hi.”

  And that was the end of her conversation with her big brother, her closest friend for most of her life. At least until they’d grown up and he started parroting her husband.

  Guys.

  She looked at the phone, hesitating to punch in the number. Her younger brother, Danny, could be squirrelly when it came to their dad. He’d say “putz” in one breath and “hero” in the next.

  Did she want to bother?

  Kevin was waiting. She’d save Danny for later.