“Damn. Damn. Damn. I wasn’t thinking.” Caburn moved around the hood, put his arms around her and held her close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a jolt like that. Are you breathing?”
“Barely. Whew.”
“It’s been stored in the parking garage at work. We had to move it. It belongs to you, now.”
“It’s just another Kevin thing. I don’t want it here.”
“I happen not to have a genie in a lamp; let’s see what abracadabra will do...well, that didn’t work. I’ll drive it back to my place until you decide what to do with it.”
“Wait. No.” Damn it. She had to stop making an issue over every little thing. It was just a car. She took his hand. “Come on inside. I bought some Tecate.”
“Just let me grab my briefcase.”
He stopped dead on the threshold to the kitchen. “What the hell is this?” he asked of all the papers strewn across the kitchen table.
“It’s everything out of the file cabinet in the basement. I’m shredding it, except for that stack.” She indicated a small sheaf of papers on the corner of the table. Caburn put his briefcase on a chair, then flipped through the sheaf: Car title, insurance policies, birth certificate. Birth certificate. Unlike the copy of a copy they had in Nesmith’s file at the office, this was an original and had the raised state seal of Maryland where Nesmith was born.
Caburn often denigrated his math and science skills but he could compute with the best of them when it suited him. He knew he owned four sections of farm land which was 160 acres x 4, and if he harvested 63 bushels of wheat per acre and sold that to the Co-op for $8.06 a bushel, he was going to bank $324,979.20.
Anna said Nesmith was forty years old; so had personnel; so had Nesmith’s employment application. That would have the man born in 1969. Yet here was his original birth certificate clearly stating the man had been born in 1959. That made Nesmith fifty years old. Another fat lie. And proof that people seldom read the fine print or took the time to put two and two together. Smudge a number here and there, make a Xerox copy and erase ten years—or more. Creating false documents was a big underground business. Nesmith had preyed on honest women who took people at face value.
Anna popped the top on the beer. “You want a glass?”
“No, straight out of the can is good.”
She glanced at the certificate in his hand. “Do you need that for your file at work?”
“Nah. We have one. You can toss it.” He watched to see if Anna had caught the discrepancy in Nesmith’s ages. Apparently not. Perhaps she didn’t care anymore. He could only hope.
Anna put it in the shredder. They both watched until it disappeared. Caburn picked up the car title and insurance policies and put them on the kitchen counter. “Can we clear the table?” Even as he asked he was whisking papers back into the plastic garbage bag. “I asked my mom to e-mail me some pictures.”
Out of his briefcase came the notebook.
“Pictures of what?”
“The farm, my dog.” He looked straight into her eyes. “We’re in a relationship, aren’t we?”
It was not the time to be coy. If she expected truth from him, she had to give it in return. “Yes, I’d say so.” He wanted her to see pictures of his dog. That was so endearing, Anna felt tears threaten.
It took him a few frustrating minutes minutes to set up, get on the internet, log into Google, and pull up the e-mail from his mother and click on the attachments. “Pull up a chair.”
Anna did just that, sitting so close their arms were brushing. He smelled of Old Spice, soap, and talc. This man makes me feel alive all over, she mused. He didn’t just look into her eyes as others had. He looked with an intensity of truth and desire. She loved the way he smelled, the way he smiled, the cocky way he wore his hat, the way he walked; especially the way he walked. There was just something utterly sexy about the way he moved.
“Here we go,” he said.
There were pictures of his dog, Buddy—a huge brown mongrel—on the porch, riding in the back of a pickup, sitting between Caburn’s knees on a tractor. There were pictures of Caburn in a thresher, his elbow hanging out the cab window; pictures of his mother in the kitchen, her slender back to the photographer in every single one; a snapshot of his grandfather sound asleep in a chair, mouth hanging open; a photo of his three sisters—the top half of their heads hidden by the thumb of the photographer. All smiling—very good pictures of their teeth. Not orthodontics, then. Genetics. There was one of his dad and two brothers in a tractor-pulling contest—all of the men were long and lean with ropy muscles. The last photo was a sweeping panorama of wheat fields.
“Dad hired a photographer to go up in a helicopter to take that shot. It’s all of our land. Sixteen sections. My family has been on that land for over a hundred years.”
“Your grandparents didn’t leave during the drought or the Depression?”
“Nope. Didn’t have to. They never borrowed against the land or the crops. Never spent a nickel they didn’t have. Grandpa said they were down to six hens, a goat, a milk cow, one dog, and a gallon of chokecherry wine by the time the War started, then things picked up.”
“I can’t imagine having so many links to the past, or to so many people.”
“Well, you start off by having a link to one person—that makes two—and if things work out, there’s maybe a third and a fourth— Hey! Are you crying. Gads. What’d I do? What?”
“Nothing and everything.”
“Holy smokes! It’s going to take me a week to figure that out.”
“It means I think you’re a great guy.”
“For goodness sakes. That makes you cry?” He put away the notebook.
Anna got up to get herself a Diet Coke. “Do you ever think about going home? I mean—for good?”
“I don’t have to think about it. I know it’s gonna happen. When my dad goes, it’s a given. I’m the oldest son, I’ll be head of the family.” He saw something in her eyes that made him quickly offer assurances. “But that won’t be for years yet. We got longevity in the genes. You saw the shot of my grandpa. He’s eighty-seven and still rolling. When his mind is right he can plow a straight furrow for a mile. When it’s not, or he’s had one beer too many, he can still plow the mile. It just might be in circles. Well.” He smiled. “I just wanted to let you know I got a farm, a family, a dog, a job.”
“And, a haircut.”
“Umm, yeah, I did. Is that gonna be a deal breaker?”
“Those curls were really cute.”
“Oh, Lord, babe, you are gonna be so much trouble. Now pack a bag.”
“What?”
He took the Coke out of her hand and set it aside. “I’m taking you home with me. We’ll take your Saab.”
“Have you lost your mind? I can’t. I have so much to do.”
“So do I. And I’m not doing it in this house. Take your to-do list. I can help with that. Just don’t forget your girly stuff. I don’t have anything like that at my place.”
If there was one thing Anna had inherited from her mother besides her eyebrows and dark eyes with copper highlights, it was the ability to know when a situation required an absolute and immediate decision. Right or wrong, decide!
“All right,” she said. “I’ll go. But I better not find so much as a bobby pin in your sofa cushions.”
She didn’t find a bobby pin, but then she didn’t look. Her attention was caught first by the magnificent view from the wide bank of windows in Caburn’s apartment. She could see all the way down the Mall to the Capitol. Pierre L’Enfant’s design of wide, grand avenues lined with trees, pedestrian walkways and Baroque monuments had stood the test of time. She realized not only was she standing in some of the most expensive real estate in the Capitol of the United States, but she was only a ten-minute drive from work.
Caburn came up behind her, put his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. “You smell good, you feel good, you taste good. Come on, I want to show you a
round.” He led her straight to the bedroom. A small lamp on the dresser did not provide much light, but it was enough to maneuver around furniture without stumping toes.
“That’s the whole tour? Living room, hall, bedroom?”
He began unbuttoning her blouse. “Yep. You can see the kitchen in the morning.” Finished with the buttons, his hands slid around her waist and up her back, then faltered.
Anna knew what he was searching for. Smiling, she leaned her head against his chest, her hands on his waist.
“Is there a hook on this thing or what?”
“It’s in the front. We’re not going to get very far along doing this your way. My boots have to come off before I can get out of my slacks.”
He held up his hands and backed away. “Let’s be adults about this, You get naked and I’ll get naked.” He eyed her boots. “First one under the covers get a massage.” He kicked off his loafers, got under the comforter, then began wriggling out of his shirt, pants and undershorts.
Anna laughed. “You are so not cool.” She slid into bed beside him, and ran her hands over his chest, down his abdomen, feeling where he was powerful, and the nearby softer places which took Caburn to another level of consciousness. Small moans of pleasure escaped him. “Anna...stop a minute.”
“You won the massage.”
He grabbed her hand and held it tight against his chest. “Damn it.” He breathed deeply for a few moments.
Anna pulled her arm free and sat up yoga style. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, babe, you were doing everything right. Too right.” He laughed at himself. “Let’s just go a bit slower.”
“How slow? Into the next century?”
Oh boy. “Get under this cover, woman, and I’ll show you slow.” She snuggled in beside him. He kissed her eyelids, nibbled on the curl of her ear and the pulse below her ear lobe, while his hands were busy doing magic elsewhere.
“I think...um...I should tell you where my erogenous zones are.”
“I know where they are, sweetheart.” He nipped and nibbled across her stomach. That’s one.”
“Oh...yes...it is...”
He kissed her knees, and moved to the soft, silky flesh of her inner thighs, his teeth taking tiny bites until he felt her quivering. “That’s two.”
He turned her over and began nibbling her shoulder, nipping all the way down to her firm buttocks and back up again. “That’s three.”
“Frank,” Anna said, her voice muffled by the pillow, “You better dress mister johnson.”
“In a minute.”
“No. In the next ten seconds—or he’s going to miss something.”
“Oh. Oh.” Caburn slid his hand under his pillow for the foil package and made quick work of suiting up.
Fifteen or so minutes later their heartbeats were returning to normal. Anna snuggled against his long, lean flanks, her head on his shoulder, her palm against the hair stubble on his chest. “Frank, are we living together?”
“Yep.”
“I guess I won’t buy a dog, then.”
She ran her hand across his chest, his ribs, his stomach and ever so slowly began to move her hand lower.
Caburn opened one sleepy eye and looked at the top of Anna’s head. “Stop that.”
“I like the way you feel.”
“Good. Be still.”
“I have to get up and put on my pajamas. I just can’t sleep naked.”
“Lord have mercy.”
She came back to bed and snuggled against his back. He was snoring softly. “Are you asleep?”
“Trying,” he muttered.
“Frank, do you believe in God?”
“Yep.”
“Do you pray?”
“I’m praying right now.”
“You are? Really? What for?”
“That the woman in bed with me right now will shut up and go to sleep.” He grumbled a few words she didn’t understand, and pulled the blankets up over his head.
Anna pressed her lips to his back. She was happy. It had been years since she had felt so happy. She wanted to stand up and dance on the bed. She wanted to wave flags and beat drums. She was tempted to wake Frank and tell him how she felt. She didn’t though, because if there was any single thing she knew about him, it was that the man liked his sleep.
I’m there, Anna thought. I have already stepped into my new life. It happened faster than I could’ve imagined. Instead of uncertainty, she felt confidence. Instead of anguish, she felt joy.
She was in bed with her future; in bed with the man who had made her whole, protected her, and loved her. He hadn’t said the words yet. It would probably take him a while. She snuggled in closer and let her arm rest on his side. His hand moved to cover hers, and brought it up to his lips with a drowsy murmur of pleasure.
Anna smiled languidly. Tomorrow she would have her maiden name back. New Year’s Eve she would be dancing in the new year in with Frank Caburn and a whole host of new friends. Real ones. Perhaps in the spring she would accompany Cynthia and a tour group to Paris. She liked the idea of Lila in a condo on Sanibel Island with Clarence and JoJo nearby. She and Frank could visit on a long weekend. Everything was possible now—even babies.
Are you watching, Mom? I got it right this time.
THREE MONTHS LATER
Anna scraped and stacked a sea of dishes on the kitchen counter. Joan Neal rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher.
“Sit and have a glass of wine, Joan, you’ve done enough. “
“I want to help. It makes me feel good, so don’t take that away from me over manners and courtesy. I can honestly say this is the first time in my career I watched a client go from such formidable emotional disaster to solid emotional bliss within six months. Not to mention that against all odds and rules, we’ve become friends. It lets me know I do some things right.”
Anna snickered. “Since you put it that way—unload all that china with the gold trim. Those belong to Louise Phipps. They have to be hand-washed and packed into tufted zipper covers.”
“Oh, nuts. That will teach me to boast about doing something right.”
“Your second-best maid of honor will take you up on another glass of champagne,” sniffed Helen. She was sitting at the small breakfast table Anna had situated near the narrow French doors, which opened onto a tiny balcony. The doors were open to allow in a soft March breeze, still warm from the late afternoon sun. Tears glistened on Helen’s desiccated cheeks.
“One more, Helen and that’s it,” admonished Anna, “or I’ll have to pour you into a taxi. Whoa! Are you crying?”
“I’m maudlin. Weddings do it to me. I never had one, y’know. On top of that, my two best tenants are at this very minute on the road with Lila in tow to Florida. Condominiums right on the beach, sunshine year-round and those little kiosks that sell frozen drinks with little umbrellas in ‘em…”
“You’re invited anytime. All of us are. And didn’t Clarence look sharp? Frank’s mother thought he was ‘the bee’s knees’. And so impressed that he served the cake wearing white gloves.”
Helen giggled. “Frank scowled at Clarence every time he went near the groom’s cake. Double-chocolate fudge.” She emitted a giant burp. “Oops.”
Anna swept the champagne glass off the table. “Coffee for you.”
“Oh, let her have the champagne,” said Joan. “I’ll drive her home.”
Helen blew her nose on a paper napkin. “Thank you, Joan, you’re my new best friend.”
The doorbell chimed. “Golly. Who could that be?” Anna hurried to the door and flung it open. “Mr and Mrs Charles! Did you have car trouble?”
“With my Austin Healy? Never, dear girl. We forgot that venison roast young Mr Caburn’s mother brought us.”
“Oh. Yes you did. Come on in. It’s in the freezer.” The tiny exquisitely-dressed couple preceded her into the kitchen.
Helen was popping the cork on a bottle of champagne. “Two bottles left. We’re just putting them to
bed. Wanna help, Mr Charles?”
Mr Charles looked at his wife. “That would be lovely, dear.” He helped Mrs Charles out of her fox fur coat and draped it on the back of chair. Helen filled a pair of Louise’s stemmed champagne glasses. Glasses were held up in a toast. “To the bride.”
“Thank you all—again.” Anna put the brown-paper wrapped venison roast on the table near Mr Charles’ elbow. The doorbell chimed again. Anna politely excused herself. One did not forget one’s manners in front of Mr Charles. She opened the front door to face Clarence and JoJo and Lila—who was still dressed in her sixty-year-old WACs pinks and greens uniform with its Captain’s bars on the collar, and who just about stole the bride’s thunder as Matron of Honor in the tiny wedding chapel. Except for the blue booties over his shoes, Clarence looked spiffy in the suit he had worn for the New Year’s Eve bash, as well as did JoJo in a slinky mauve sequined dress which matched her hair and made her look as if she were playing dress up.
Clarence looked abashed. “We were almost to US 1 when I remember I forgot my wedding cake takeaway. It’s in the pantry in the Tupperware carryall.”
Anna laughed. “Come on in and join the after party.”
The three were only moments in the kitchen and explaining their return when the doorbell chimed once more. Anna opened it to Louise and Albert Phipps.
“You are going to think I’ve lost my mind,” said Louise. “But I forgot to give you your wedding present.” She thrust a spectacularly wrapped box into Anna hands.
“Oh my. It’s beautiful. Thank you. Come on in. We were just about to open the last two bottles of champagne. You might as well join us.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Albert and ushered his wife past Anna into the kitchen.
While Clarence served champagne, Anna opened the gift. She gasped and carefully lifted the bronzed-framed and restored photographs and stood them for all to view on the table. The first was of a man, a boy and a mule, the second, of her parents on their wedding day. “Oh, oh, oh,” was all that she could manage.
Louise put her arm around Anna. “Rene had them ready weeks ago and I felt bad for keeping them from you, but I thought, well, dressed up in a lovely frame and gift-wrapped…”
No Perfect Secret Page 27