by Susan Wiggs
She would simply write the truth from her perspective. Callie had no problem with that. And sometimes when she related events from her past, her flat, matter-of-fact delivery had a certain devastating power. Kate was determined to capture that. Ironically, she had JD to thank for making sure the work had absolute integrity. With his disapproval and skepticism as a constant reminder, she made certain her care, precision and altruism never wavered.
Not that she would thank him for the unsolicited advice. That would be too big a leap. She couldn’t imagine the conversation. Could she really say, “You made me a better writer” or “I did a better job on this piece because of what you said”?
He had still undermined her ambition and devalued her dream. That wasn’t how to love someone.
She reflected on her past relationships. Men had always left without really knowing her, without giving her dreams a chance. She thought JD was different, but that was probably wishful thinking.
Anyway, she was moving on. The meeting had gone well with the caseworker, though the application and qualification process was an eye-opener. A foster parent had to commit to any number of possibilities. She had to provide a safe and loving home and promise to give her time, energy and heart to the process. Kate discovered that not only did she feel confident that she could do this, she was looking forward to it.
Her mother had warned her not to tangle herself up, being a foster mother. She’d declared it burdensome and maybe even hazardous, but Kate didn’t see it that way. She wanted to do this, to deepen her bond with Callie and make the girl a part of her life. The caseworker promised that, assuming Kate’s references and background checked out, Callie would soon be a part of her home. The yearning for this to work out was strong in Kate. She loved and respected Callie and wanted her to have the same chances and options any teenager enjoyed. Sometimes Kate lay awake at night and wondered if she had enough to give this girl. She hoped so. She and Aaron didn’t constitute a traditional family, but just because she didn’t have a husband didn’t mean she had to deprive herself—and Aaron—of another child in the household.
The whole experience made Kate realize that she had choices. Having Callie, even just for the summer, had opened her mind to possibilities she’d never before considered. She drummed her fingers on the keyboard. Maybe she would chronicle that experience next, the journey of a single mother becoming a foster parent. Her editor wanted to know what her next project was. Perhaps this was it, Kate thought. This was what she was meant to be doing. Telling the stories of ordinary women from a personal perspective.
As the thought crossed her mind, a current of heat shot through her, a keen awareness. She vibrated like a tuning fork. When something felt this right, it rang in her bones, and she sensed that now. She sat up and paid attention. This was not some huge, radical concept. Lord knew, it was hardly original. Yet the idea felt right. It was a good fit, and she knew she could add her own voice to the canon.
“Well,” she said. “Good thing I got that figured out.”
“What’s that?” Callie stepped into the main room, wearing one of her work aprons and rubber gloves. It was startling to see how dramatically she’d changed since her birthday. She had her mother’s beauty, though Callie was blond while Sonja was dark. As the pounds came off and her health improved, that beauty shone through more and more each day.
“My direction. My next writing project. I loved writing this article about you, Callie, and when it’s done, I want to do more stories about women and choices.”
“What women?”
“All kinds. Women who are dealing with loss, like Mrs. Newman. Or those who have aging parents, or are struggling to raise their kids or to make ends meet, or—” She stopped, not wanting to say the next thing that popped into her mind: women who need to move on after a breakup. “Any woman, any age, who’s faced with choices,” she said to Callie. “How’s that sound?”
“Like something in a women’s magazine.”
“Exactly.” Kate saved her work and shut the laptop. “Let’s get dinner, then. I think it’s perfect weather for chicken soup and grilled-cheese sandwiches.”
“Soup from a can?” Aaron asked, looking up from his play.
“’Fraid so, buddy.”
“Yes!” he said, punching the air.
Kate and Callie traded a smile. They worked together washing lettuce and chopping carrots for the salad. Kate put the ingredients for the vinaigrette in a jar and gave it to Aaron to shake, the perfect job for him. “I’m going to miss this place,” Callie said quietly, looking out the big picture window.
“We come back every year,” Aaron said immediately, lining his army men up along the counter. “No problem.”
Callie reached over and ruffled his hair. “Right, kid.”
Kate watched the worry tugging at Callie. She had been shuffled around so much that she never knew what lay ahead for her.
“We’re going to do everything we can to keep you with us through high school,” Kate said.
“That’s a long time,” Callie pointed out.
“Three more years,” Aaron said.
“I’ll probably ruin things before that,” Callie muttered.
Aaron rolled his eyes and took his army men elsewhere. He had little patience with Callie’s angst.
“Don’t be negative,” Kate said, keeping her voice light, though she found Callie’s attitude worrisome. “The key to getting things to work out is believing they will.”
Callie smiled briefly and sliced into a tomato. “That’s the key to fooling yourself.”
“You’re too young to be cynical,” Kate told her.
“I think I damn well earned the right,” Callie replied, an edge in her voice.
“That’s in the past. From now on, you’re with us, and you don’t have to be so tough anymore. You also don’t have to swear.”
“Swear?”
“The D word.”
“Oh, for Chri— Pete’s sake,” Callie said.
Kate glanced over at Aaron. He was soaking all this in like a sponge, loving it. “Listen, both of you,” she said. “This summer, you’ve been our guest, Callie. But from now on, we’re going to function like a family. The placement counselor said we’ll need to work out clear house rules. One of mine is that we don’t use vulgar language. All right?”
“Fine,” Callie said. “Whatever.”
“It’s not asking all that much,” Kate pointed out. “One step at a time, that’s what they told us.”
“All right.”
“Pass me the salad tongs,” said Kate.
They fixed the soup and sandwiches, then sat down to eat while watching the rain in the wind on the lake. “I’m bored,” Aaron announced, pulling the crust off his grilled cheese.
“How about a game of Parcheesi after dinner?” Kate offered.
“Chairman of the bored,” he concluded, then asked Callie, “Is Luke coming over tonight?”
She kept her gaze out the window. “Nope.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Not tomorrow, either.” She shifted restlessly in her chair. “I’m not… Luke and I are not going to be hanging out anymore.”
“Bummer.” Aaron got up to clear the table. Kate smiled at him, pleased that she hadn’t had to ask him to do it. At the beginning of the summer, this might have taken ten minutes of nagging, so this was real progress.
“Are you sure about Luke?” Kate asked her.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you ready to give up on him, or is he worth fighting for? You gave up without a fight.”
“Like you did with JD.”
The words struck Kate like rocks. She and Callie understood each other all too well.
Callie said no more but went to help Aaron finish the dishes. She seemed agitated, cleaning the kitchen with extra vigor. When Bandit whined to go out, Callie volunteered to take him, grabbing a cobwebbed golf umbrella from the stand on the porch. The dog raced around the yard, searching for the id
eal spot to do his business. Aaron insisted on going out as well, wearing galoshes and an ancient army-fatigue poncho.
Good, thought Kate, watching from the porch. Aaron found her heart-to-hearts with Callie completely boring, and he needed to run off all that energy. When he came in, he might even submit to a warm bath. Callie stood under the umbrella, her shoulders hunched against the wind. She looked both alone and resolute, yet far too small to take on the world.
A gust of wind blew across the lake, flattening the water before it. Aaron’s poncho billowed out around him and Callie’s umbrella was lifted from beneath. The ribs strained, but Callie held on fast with both hands until the gust of wind passed her by.
Like you did with JD?
Kate squinted through the mist but could barely see the Schroeder place. Still, she felt her stomach knotting with tension. She’d been telling herself it was time to quit dreaming and move on. Maybe she was wrong about that.
She clapped her hands to call the dog back in, then went to stoke the fire in the stove.
Thirty-One
JD spotted wispy threads of wood smoke twisting up from the chimney of Kate’s house. In the dank gray of twilight, the windows of the house glowed a cheery yellow-gold, little beams through the midst of a rare summer storm.
Everywhere there were signs that summer was sliding to its inevitable end. The days were already getting noticeably shorter, and the lashing storm was a fore-taste of gusty autumn. He rolled his shoulders back and rotated his head, feeling the fatigue of the hours he’d put in, working on his med school application. Yes, he was going for it. He had a time line for getting his materials in, including the dreaded “personal statement.” He knew he’d be putting that off for a long time. Ultimately, though, he’d do what it took, same as he had all his life. By the time he finished the process, UCLA would know more about him than his own mother.
Bad analogy, he thought. His own mother knew virtually nothing about him. In truth, she had been singularly uninvolved with him throughout his childhood. Controlled by her addiction, she would sometimes stagger home after days of using, and look at him as if she couldn’t remember his name.
Those times stayed buried in the past—until he was thrust into the public eye. Her relapse had been swift and brutal, but fortunately he could now afford the best and most discreet treatment available. His visit had gone predictably. She was remorseful and determined to get better. One good thing about the clinic was its experience with high-profile patients. They guarded people’s privacy rigorously, and he was grateful for that. A part of him wished he could talk about it with Kate, but that was out of the question now, of course.
He had to go back, too. He’d promised his mother he would, and this time, he really did have an admissions interview scheduled. Summer was coming to an end, anyway. He hated the idea of leaving the lake, but it was time. The Schroeders were coming out for Labor Day, and although Sam had invited him to stay, he had no intention of intruding. It was time to get back to his own life. He hoped that by now he’d be an obscure, barely recognized has-been.
Restless, he decided to go out to the shed and mess with the boat for a while. It was finished, but he wanted the wherry in perfect shape for Sam and his family. He put on the overhead shop light and inspected the restoration job. The mahogany and oak strips, arranged in alternating geometric patterns, were now as smooth as polished stones, glowing with amber depths. The joints were clean and tight, the seams virtually invisible. The interior of the hull had seating for three and there was a tiny storage well in the bow. Once he reattached the rudder with the new hardware he bought, he’d be in business.
Despite the fact that he liked the work, his mood did not improve. As always, he was distracted by thoughts of Kate. He hated the way things were between them—an impasse neither was willing to breach. She was a reporter. The enemy. It was just as well he was leaving.
Maybe he’d been a fool to fall in love with her. But at least he’d been a happy fool.
He fitted the rudder and tiller in place as the last of the light disappeared. Still, the storm didn’t let up, beating relentlessly on the roof of the shed. The sense of being utterly alone here was strong as he stood in the cocoon of light cast by the overhead lamp. When he’d first come here, he had reveled in the vast sense of isolation afforded by the secluded lake. After all the attention, it was what he’d craved. He had gratefully sunk into anonymity, wishing he could stay like that forever.
Since he’d met Kate, his isolation felt completely different. It felt like loneliness.
He wiped his hands on a polishing cloth and stepped back to inspect the job. It was then that he finally realized all the work he’d done, turning a wreck into a beautiful, gleaming boat, meant nothing. Doing something well didn’t mean a thing. It meant only that he’d spent untold hours on this project. Now that it was finished, what next?
He was haunted by a sense of things left undone, unsaid. Finishing a project wasn’t enough, even though he’d wanted it to be. A relationship, he reminded himself, was not a project.
Kate, he thought. He needed to see her before he left. Aaron, too, and Callie.
The decision felt good. He closed up the shed and made a dash for the cabin. The rain descended in a thick curtain, soaking him to the skin and fogging his glasses. He ducked inside and stood shivering for a minute. Kate had the right idea, building a fire. There was no other way to keep the place warm except with the woodstove.
The trouble was, the woodpile was outside, a good twenty yards from the house. He was already drenched. Might as well go for it. Grabbing a flashlight, he splashed across the yard toward the woodpile, gathering an armload of logs from under the blue plastic tarp. When he got back inside, he was not only wet but muddy and sprinkled with wood chips and sawdust. A brown wolf spider picked its way delicately down his arm.
JD figured maybe he should get cleaned up before going to see Kate. He opened the door and shook off the spider, then went back inside. As he stood dripping on the floor and wiping off his glasses, the stark gleam of headlights washed across the room.
He frowned. It was too dark to see who had come calling. Company? A lost traveler? Had he gotten Sam’s arrival date wrong?
He heard the faint thud of a car door slamming, then the stomp of feet on the porch steps. Putting on his glasses, he opened the door. There stood Kate, huddled in an oversize jacket and holding a faded golf umbrella. She shook it out, closed it and leaned it on the stoop by the door.
It was all he could do not to grab her, hold her against his chest, tell her every crazy thought in his head. “Kate—”
“JD, I—”
“Come inside.” He shut the door against the aggressive gusts. She looked windblown and bedraggled and beautiful to him. Yet her eyes were troubled. “What’s the matter?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Are the kids all right? How’s Callie?”
“Oh…” She smiled very briefly. “Callie’s great.”
“And Aaron…?”
“Fine, too.” She must have recognized the way he was studying her, with the probing, assessing look of a paramedic. “Honest.”
“So this is where I examine you all over and say, ‘Where does it hurt, ma’am?’”
“You don’t want to do that,” she said. “I might tell you the truth.”
“I can handle it,” he said.
“The truth is, I am hurt. What happened between us—that hurt me. And not seeing you, well, that hurts, too.”
“I know. God, Kate, I’m sorry.”
She folded her arms across her chest, a protective gesture. He didn’t blame her. She said, “You’re a mess.”
“I went out to get wood for a fire,” he explained. “Chilly tonight.”
“Uh-huh.” She shivered, glanced nervously around the place. “JD—”
“Kate—” He stopped himself. They were both so damn nervous that normal conversation wasn’t going to work, so he pulled her again
st him. “I’ve missed you,” he said. Then he kissed her, not gently but with a heated urgency that drew a startled gasp from her.
She pushed her hands against his chest and simultaneously pulled back. He wondered what he was seeing in her eyes—protest? Pain? Conflict? He refused to look away, silently daring her to object. Instead, she curled her fists into his wet shirtfront and went up on tiptoe, kissing him as fiercely as he had just kissed her.
When they came up for air, he admitted, “I was going to come and see you.”
“You were?” Her smile seized at his heart.
“I was going to shower first.”
Her smile changed into a look that was softer. Darker. “Why don’t we take care of that right now?”
It turned into a shower of record length, lasting until the hot water ran out. Then they moved to a heap of blankets in front of the woodstove by the light of the dancing flames through the glass. Kate’s lovemaking made JD wonder how he’d managed to stay away at all. She made love with a combination of passion and delight and a genuine affection he’d never felt from a woman before, and when he held her in his arms, he knew, for the first time in his life, the true meaning of happiness.
Much later, they lay tangled in the soft blankets and listened to the rain on the roof. He held her against him even closer than before, and the unfamiliar joy welled up in him. He shuddered slightly, unprepared for its strange power.
“Are you cold?” she asked, snuggling against him.
“No,” he said. He gathered her closer still and drew a quilt around them both. “I wish I’d been the one to come to you,” he said.
She shifted, turning so that her face nearly touched his. The firelight softly flickered over her skin. “It wasn’t a contest to see who blinked first.”