by Tami Hoag
Standing by the French doors, Bryan heaved a sigh. Outside, the morning had turned blue and beautiful. He flung open the doors and drank in the scents. The air was fresh with the tang of the sea and the sweetness of sun-warmed grass and wildflowers.
It was the kind of day meant for playing hooky. It was the kind of day meant for picnics and handin-hand walks, for taking leisurely drives along the shore and making love under the afternoon sun. It was the kind of day too many people let pass by, sure that another would come along at a more convenient time in their lives. Bryan knew for a fact that wasn’t always true. You had to enjoy life moment to moment because tomorrow was a promise that wasn’t always kept. Too many people waited until it was too late, then looked back on their lives with bitterness and regret.
He couldn’t let Rachel be one of them.
Determination giving him a fresh burst of strength, he strode to the desk and picked up the telephone.
“My word, that’s a lovely color on you, Abbey,” Aunt Roberta commented. “Just lovely. And the feathers are really you. Don’t you think so, Rebecca? I think they’re really her.”
Rachel sighed wearily and raised her head, looking past the sea of bank statements, bills, and canceled checks spread out across the dining room table to where her mother sat in a pool of yellow light near the window, glowering at her.
Addie wore another of her nondescript loose housedresses and had an emerald-green feather boa draped around her neck. In her hands she clutched a pottery ashtray the size of a Frisbee, and every so often she thrust it beneath Roberta’s cigarette to catch the fallout. Roberta sat in a rocker beside her, pumping the thing as if she were out to set some kind of record. Smoke billowed from her nostrils, giving the impression that her boundless nervous energy came from a combustion engine.
“For goodness’ sake, Rowena, you look exhausted!”
“I’ve had a lot of work to do.”
“Stealing my money,” Addie muttered.
“There isn’t any money to steal, Mother,” Rachel shot back. Gritting her teeth, she tamped down her temper. “I’m trying to help you. I came back here to help you.”
Addie narrowed her eyes. Her lips thinned to a white line of disapproval. It made her so angry to see Rachel going through her business papers. It made her angry to know she couldn’t have gone through them herself because they made no sense to her anymore. She certainly didn’t want Rachel sifting through them looking for yet another way to humiliate her and snatch away a little more of her independence.
“She’s not my daughter, you know,” she said to Roberta.
Rachel rolled her eyes.
Roberta’s black brows arched up. “She’s not? I thought she was. Bryan said she was. He told me Ramona was your daughter.”
“Ramona who?”
“Your daughter.”
“I don’t have a daughter. Pay attention here, Roberta,” Addie said crossly, smacking the woman on the arm. “After all the sacrifices I made for my daughter so she could go on to greatness as a soprano, she ran off with a nightclub singer.”
“Oh, my gosh, Althea,” Roberta whispered in shock, crossing herself with her cigarette. “My gosh.”
Rachel tuned out. She really didn’t have the energy to deal with her mother today. She had been on the telephone half the morning with a woman from the California Health and Welfare Agency, discussing financial aid for people with Alzheimer’s. The bureaucracy was incredible, the benefits negligible in relation to the expenses a chronically ill person faced. She had to consider Addie’s loss of income, housing costs, medical costs, cost for in-home help or respite care, the normal costs of living, taxes, miscellaneous expenses. And somewhere down the road she would have to deal with the expense of putting Addie in a nursing home.
As badly as she wanted to care for her mother herself, Rachel realized that would eventually become impossible. Addie’s condition would inevitably decline to the point where she would need constant care and supervision, and Rachel would not be able to provide that and keep a job as well.
She planted her elbows on the tabletop and rubbed her hands over her face. Already the strain was getting to her. What was she going to feel like after months, even years of this? Despair welled inside her at the prospect of a bleak, joyless future.
Bryan.
His name drifted through her mind as if someone had whispered it low and soft in her ear. Warmth cascaded through her, enticing, like forbidden fruit. It was strange, but just thinking about him relaxed her.
“Come along, angel,” Bryan said briskly.
Rachel’s head snapped up. Cautiously, she turned to look at him as if she didn’t quite believe he would be there. But there he stood, looking rumpled and sexy in his snug jeans and faded Notre Dame sweatshirt.
“Come along,” he said again, taking her by the hand and tugging her out of her chair.
“Where…?”
He flashed her a brilliant smile, “To play hooky.”
Rachel dug her heels in. “Bryan, I don’t have time to play hooky.”
“I’m not giving you a choice.”
There was definitely something steely and predatory about his smile, reminding Rachel that there was a great deal more to this man than what so pleasingly met the eye. A shiver danced through her at the glint of determination in his deep blue gaze.
“Bryan, I would like nothing more than to take a day off, but I have responsibilities.”
“They’ll still be here when we get back.”
“Bryan, honey, what are you doing with Rhonda?” Roberta asked.
“I’m abducting her, Aunt Roberta.” He let go of Rachel’s hand, quickly bent and put a shoulder to her stomach, and heaved her up, wrapping his arm around her wildly flailing legs. She squealed in surprise.
“Oh, well, fine, dear.” Roberta smiled and waved her cigarette at them. “Have a nice time!”
Addie stuck her tongue out at them.
Bryan frowned at her and turned back toward his aunt, balancing Rachel on his shoulder as if she were a sack of potatoes. He gave Roberta a meaningful look. “You and Addie keep each other out of trouble, okay?”
“Trouble! My stars, honey!” She cackled and coughed. “What trouble could we get into?”
“I shudder to think,” Rachel grumbled. She wriggled on Bryan’s shoulder as he carried her out of the room and down the hall. “Bryan, neither one of them should be left alone.”
“Don’t be silly. Aunt Roberta is a little unique, but she’s perfectly capable of being left on her own.”
“Personally, I think it’s a toss-up as to which of them is loonier, but the point is: I shouldn’t be leaving Mother.”
“Rachel, you can’t spend every hour of every day with her. It isn’t good for either one of you,” he said, toting her down the porch steps and across the lawn. “Think about it. You’re going to be taking care of Addie for a long time. Do you want to end up hating her because you shackled her to you like a ball and chain and threw away the key?”
She was silent as he deposited her in the passenger seat of her car and went around to the other side. Any retort she might have made was silenced by the knowledge that she already had feelings of resentment toward her mother. Hadn’t she wondered herself how bitter she would be in the end?
“Don’t worry about Aunt Roberta.” The Chevette started with a squeal of protest that settled into a pathetic whine. “I explained to her all about Addie’s illness.”
“When?” Rachel asked in surprise. She thought he hadn’t done much of anything lately except search for his ridiculous buried treasure.
“When you had your nose buried in work, I imagine.”
“Better submerged in trying to solve my problems than burying my head in the sand or running off to do Lord knows what-”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” he said as he turned the car out onto the busy coastal highway. “We’re going ballooning.”
Rachel was momentarily struck dumb. For one terrible instan
t her heart stopped. When she found her tongue again, she said, “Going what?”
“Ballooning.” Bryan grinned, his handsome face lighting up with excitement. “Up in a montgolfier.”
“Turn this car around right now,” Rachel demanded in her sternest voice, proud that none of her sudden panic came through in her tone. She thumped her index finger against the dash. “I mean it, Bryan. Turn this thing around and take me home right this minute.”
“Sorry, angel,” he said. “I’d rather take you to heaven.”
She could tell by the set of his jaw that he wasn’t going to back down. The man could be unbearably stubborn. Well, if he thought he was going to get her into the basket of a hot air balloon, he had another think coming. Of all the silly pranks, dragging her away from work for an afternoon of absolute foolishness. The idea was completely… tempting.
Settling back into her seat, Rachel crossed her arms over her chest and fumed. This was precisely the reason she and Bryan didn’t belong together. He wanted to dazzle her with magic and fun when there simply was no room in her life for either.
They turned off the main road and headed east over the hills. Even this narrow, winding county road was busy, clogged with tourists out for a day of gawking at the beautiful scenery. The lower slopes of the golden hills were speckled with dark fir trees, and the heavier forest worked its way up toward the incomparable blue of the summer sky. They passed sheep farms and apple orchards.
Finally, Bryan slowed the car and turned off the road onto a dirt path where a colorful wooden cutout of a balloon was tacked to a fence post. The sign read SKY DRIFTERS BALLOON RIDES. Rachel swallowed hard.
They parked near an enormous weathered gray barn, beside several cars with out-of-state plates.
Bryan turned and gave her a serious look, though his eyes were twinkling. “Do you walk from here or do I get to carry you some more?”
“I’ll walk,” Rachel replied in a cool tone, her slim nose in the air.
Still, he took her by the hand when they got out of the car, as if there were some danger of her making a break for it. A loud hissing roar sounded on the far side of the barn. It was a sound that Rachel might once have imagined coming from a mythical dragon. Of course, she didn’t believe in dragons anymore, at least not the green, scaly kind.
They rounded the side of the barn, and her heart went into her throat. Some distance away, in a large open field, a balloon was tethered to the ground, its gaily striped bag swaying in the gentle breeze. Several young men in casual dress were leaning indolently against the wicker gondola, obviously having fun shooting the bull. There was another roar as one attendant sent a blast of heat from the burner into the balloon. The striped bag rippled as the air inside it expanded.
“She’s all ready for you, Bry!” the slender, bearded man called as they neared the enormous contraption. He pulled his leather gloves off and slapped them against his thigh. “Great day for it!”
“That’s what I thought,” Bryan said with a grin, tugging a reluctant Rachel nearer the balloon.
Her eyes were riveted to the narrow wicker basket even as the introductions were made. The name of Bryan’s bearded friend and the rest of the balloon crew went in one ear and out the other. She’d never been afraid of heights, she reflected, but then, she’d never been asked to go up in a balloon. She could feel her face going pale as Bryan nudged her closer.
“You’ll love it, sweetheart,” he promised as he lifted her into the gondola.
It didn’t seem as necessary to express her skepticism on that point as on the next. “Do you really know how to fly this thing?”
“No,” he admitted with a mischievous grin. He pulled on the gloves his friend handed him and swung himself gracefully into the craft. “But I’m pretty sure I can make it land. I managed to do it once near Berlin, and there were people shooting at me then, so this should be a piece of cake.”
Rachel stared at him in horror.
His friend took pity on her. “Don’t worry, Rachel, he knows more than he’s letting on. Besides, you’ll be tethered to the ground the whole time. Bryan just wanted a place where the two of you could have a nice, private picnic. Pretty romantic, huh?”
Rachel gave him a blank look, but it was too late to ask questions. Picnic? Who could think about food at a time like this, she wondered as the ground crew moved away from the gondola and the balloon above them tugged the basket up a few feet off the ground. She dug her fingernails into the dry brown wicker and watched in horrified fascination as Bryan attended the burner. Flame roared up into the fabric bag. He shot her a wink as they lifted into the air, but mainly he kept his eyes trained on the instrument panel that hung from the framework just below the burner.
He did indeed appear to know what he was doing, which left Rachel free to experience her first ascent in a montgolfier. The sensation was not unlike going up in an elevator-a wobbly elevator that swayed slightly with their movements, an elevator that had no safe, solid building around it. She braved a peek over the edge, and her stomach fluttered the same way it had on her first roller coaster ride. The crew stood on the ground below, waving happily at her, growing smaller and smaller as the balloon lifted higher and higher. Then the tether lines pulled tight, halting their flight.
“Well, what do you think?” Bryan asked.
She dragged in a deep breath, ready to tell him exactly what she thought of this irresponsible escapade of his, but the words caught in her throat as she took in the view around them. It was spectacular. She could see for miles in every direction. Golden hills, soft green pastures, dark patterns of forest. Northern California in all its rumpled wild charm lay beneath them. In the distance she could see another brightly striped balloon floating free above the countryside. To the west the ocean stretched across the horizon, a ribbon of misty blue between the coast and the fog bank. And the beauty was not only in the landscape, but in the silence-it was exquisite and absolute.
The sudden sense of peace was so startling, it brought tears to Rachel’s eyes. For days now she had been feeling worn out and beaten down. Her focus had narrowed to a kind of tunnel vision that allowed her to see only what was wrong with her life. She had been ignoring all this wondrous beauty, had shut it out of her life. And Bryan had given it back to her.
She turned to him now with a tremulous smile and said, “I think I love you.”
His wise, warm blue eyes sparkled, and he slid his arms around her and kissed her.
They stayed aloft admiring the view while enjoying a leisurely picnic lunch of fresh croissants, cheeses, grapes, and an excellent bottle of California white wine. They talked about everything they could think of that had nothing to do with Addie or Drake House or money. They stood and enjoyed the silence and the simple pleasure of being alone together. It was a wonderful treat. A perfect way to spend part of a perfect afternoon.
Sadly, Rachel knew they would have to come down to earth, both literally and figuratively. But she held the memory of their golden afternoon in her heart as they drove home. Maybe there was some merit in the occasional burst of reckless frivolity. She felt refreshed, rejuvenated. If that wasn’t magic, she didn’t know what was. Somewhere up in the sky she had left behind her guilt over abandoning Addie and their troubles for a few hours, and she didn’t miss it a bit. Now she felt ready to go back and face her financial troubles, ready to try again with Addie. And she had the man beside her to thank for it.
The real jolt to earth came as they turned up the coast road at the edge of Anastasia and headed north, toward Drake House. On the opposite side of the road a police car and a tow truck sat with their lights flashing. Officers and other assorted folk milled around. Traffic had slowed to a crawl, allowing all passersby a clear view of the trouble.
A rusty powder-blue Volvo station wagon had taken out a roadside vendor’s cart, then mushed its nose into a stone retaining wall. There were flowers everywhere-on the road, draped across the car’s hood and roof, crushed beneath the wheels of the
police car. There were roses and daisies and carnations and tiger lilies, flowers of every color. It looked almost as if someone had strewn them about to make the scene of the accident look less tragic. The vendor’s cart had been reduced to a pathetic pile of toothpicks, and the vendor, a huge woman in a Hawaiian muumuu and a tennis visor, stood beside it looking stunned.
Rachel’s eyes widened in horror as realization dawned. “Oh, my-oh, my-That’s Mother’s car!”
Bryan was already steering the Chevette to the shoulder. They abandoned the car and made their way across the road, grim and silent.
“No more gawkers!” Deputy Skreawupp commanded in his gruff monotone. He scowled at them, his jowls drooping like a truculent bulldog’s. He pointed an index finger at Bryan as if it were a loaded gun. “This is police business, bub. Now, get out of here, or I’ll flatten you like pie crust, and I can do it.”
“That’s my mother’s car!” Rachel said, pushing her way past the deputy’s pot belly.
“Humph! Batty Addie’s gone and done it this time,” he said, flipping back a page in his pocket notebook. “Driving without a license, expired tags, reckless endangerment, destruction of property-”
Rachel wasn’t listening to the litany of charges. Her heart was hammering in her ears as she stumbled to the open driver’s door of the Volvo, where Addie sat with her legs out, her garden boots planted on the gravel. She was as white as the waxy day lily that was stuck under the windshield wiper. “Mother! Mother, are you all right?”
Addie looked, her eyes wide. She was still stunned from the accident, and the confusion of its aftermath had short-circuited her brain. She stared at the young woman crouching down in front of her and tried to concentrate on the girl’s face. She was someone Addie was certain she should recognize.
“Rachel?” she murmured uncertainly. Fear shivered through her. She’d never felt so old or so frail… or frightened.
“Mother, what happened?” Rachel asked gently. She took one of Addie’s thin, cold hands between hers and held it, both to comfort her mother and to reassure herself.
“I’m… not… sure,” Addie said slowly, tilting her head this way and that, as if the movement might jar loose a memory.