The Jewel Box

by C Michelle McCarty

  “What ya thinkin’ now, Blondie?”

  “That I’d better get back to work.”

  “Yeaaaah. . .” His voice drifted off and he cracked his knuckles before staring absently down at his hand. Aretha Franklin began crooning Natural Woman in the background. “We need to get back before we get in trouble.”

  I stayed composed enough to reiterate my regrets about Gloria’s illness, before cranking my engine to drive back to his work site. He reached over and gently kissed my cheek and we looked at each other in a puzzling sort of way as he jumped out of my car. I waved goodbye and he cupped his hand over his mouth, blowing several kisses as he walked backwards into the house, getting drenched. I was tempted to honk my horn twice, but something kept my hands firmly attached to the steering wheel. Most likely that “something” was my spiritual guide named Beau.

  Aidan accepted the job in California and was in Newport Beach less than a month when he invited me out. “I’d love to visit. Distance from Texas might do me good.”

  “Wow, that’s the fastest response I’ve ever gotten from you. I’ll overnight a ticket before you can change your mind.”

  “Not to worry.” I pulled luggage from my closet. “I’m packing as we speak.”

  “Yea. I can’t wait to see you, my Cherie amour.”

  Two days later I took off to be with the man I hoped would be the man to make me forget the man I truly loved. Surprisingly enough, I had a delightful long weekend with Aidan.

  After my weekend in California, I avoided Gabriel, and weeks later when Aidan flew to Houston on business, he spent Saturday night with me. For twenty four hours, I became someone I almost didn’t recognize, playing mind games, behaving seductively wicked and praising this gorgeous man for all he was worth. I desperately tried to fall in love with Aidan, but it just didn’t take. Well, not on my end. Unfortunately my excessive fawning made Aidan think I had fallen head over heels for him. Before he left on Monday, he dropped to his knees, apologized for not having a ring in his pocket, and asked me to marry him. Little Miss Dysfunctional had an amazing man proposing marriage. I wasn’t ready to jump into a relationship, much less marriage. Aidan interpreted my silence as a request for more time.

  In between Aidan’s occasional visits, I stayed busy refinishing old furniture and reading McMurtry and Sandlin novels from Beau. I lived frugally, hoping to turn Beau’s idea of a small antique shop with daily tea into a reality. Nikki and I drove to Galveston one weekend to see Greater Tuna at the 1894 Opera House, and arrived so early we decided to kill an hour by walking the Strand. As we strolled past the little cafe where Beau and I shared our last lunch, a man was placing a “For sale” in the window. I jotted the number and dialed it. I was appalled by their asking price, but believed I was destined to own it. After all, Texans had recently voted the lottery into our Lone Star state.

  Gabriel called on May ninth, but only to say Gloria was days from being released since doctors had managed to get her acute symptoms under control. Encouraging news although she would leave attached to monitors and taking vasodilators and other meds for chronic failure. I kept the call succinct, hung up, and then wrestled with the idea of visiting his mom in the hospital; not wanting to offend, but wanting to wish her good health. An hour later, I was in the Bronco heading downtown.

  After thirty years of exponential growth, the Texas Medical Center seemed almost unrecognizable, and it took a while to get my bearings. I parked on North McGregor Street and began walking toward Memorial Hermann. Realizing how late it had become, I stopped and sat on the curb. Was visiting Gloria the right thing to do? Not because it was almost nine, but because I would never want to upset her. Wishing for Beau’s opinion, I sat outside, allowing the evening breeze to blow my hair as I took in a decent view of nearby Hermann Park.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Gabriel asked, as he knelt beside me.

  “Wondering if our meeting falls under the heading of kismet or terrible timing,” I accidently blurted personal thoughts. “Sorry. I’m just trying to decide if visiting your mother is the respectful thing to do.”

  “You are some kind of crazy, Blondie.”

  I wanted to chew through his moustache and suck the lips off his face. How’s that for crazy? “Yeah,” I answered. “I’d be wealthy if I could find a way to use my personality disorder to make a living. Instead of spending money on shrinks, I should’ve invested in stocks.”

  “Did you say cocks?”

  “No, I said you’re perverted.”

  “Is that a fact and not a fiction?” He let go a little grin.

  “That’s a fact, my friend.”

  The damaging effects from years of smoking had caused few visible changes, but his coughs had become pulmonary bulldozers.

  “Hey, Doc Holiday, you need to stop smoking. I’m not sure you’d look quite as appealing lying naked in an iron lung.”

  “You think?”

  “Smoking widens the ozone hole.” I made a moue.

  “Well before you go runnin off to work for the EPA or Green Peace, I’ve quit smoking. It’s only been three weeks, but I’m sticking with it. Seeing Gloria stuck in that hospital bed is better than any stop smoking program. You know I can’t be confined.”

  “No more tobacco? Congratulations!” I cheered. “Now, should I go visit or not?”

  “She’s taken her pain med, and was dozing off when I left.” He tilted his head back. “Hey, look up.”

  I followed his eyes upward to the deep blue sky reflecting a myriad of twinkling stars as moonlight flickered through the billowy trees, hypnotically. Sounds of nature mingled with workers and visitors to create a melody around us. Gabriel shifted to sit beside me. I didn’t ask Fran’s whereabouts. We sat in total silence for about twenty minutes before I stood to head home. That was one damn hypnotic moon.

  “Gloria’s going to be okay.” I touched his arm offering assurance. “Nikki and I read up on the disease and predict she’ll be one of its survivors.”

  “You two have the same closeness as Gloria and Hope—just a healthier one.”

  “Healthier?”

  “Yeah, their bond formed by Gloria manipulating Hope into being her willing slave.”

  “Gabriel, I wish you wouldn’t talk in such mean spirit about people I once loved.”

  “Well, they hate your guts.”

  He could have hit me in the stomach with a baseball bat and caused less pain. I took several breaths, fighting back tears. “Thanks for your brutal honesty, Carpenter Boy.”

  “They’re not the only ones. My daughters hate you too.”

  What the hell was he trying to do? I knew his feelings about honesty, but had he lost all sensitivity?

  “But I don’t.” He put his arm around me. “And you know my brothers don’t.”

  “Lauren and Skylar don’t even know me.” I pulled away, struggling to hold back tears.

  Gabriel grabbed me tightly, possibly recognizing my distress. “They blame you for separating me and Astrid.” He cautiously reached for my hand. “And I’m sure Gloria’s hammered it into them that you sabotaged her job.”

  “That sickens me.” I allowed him to hold my hand, which was visibly shaking. “Since you’re so hell bent on honesty, tell your girls why Gloria lost her job, and also that a happy marriage doesn’t end simply because of another person. It takes two to tango and I’m not sure who took the first step, but we were both on the dance floor.”

  “Yeah, we were dancin’ along pretty good there for awhile.”

  “Like Fred and Ginger.” I pulled my hand from his as tears welled in my eyes.

  “Hey, I’ll even dance with you right now, if you want.” He put his arms around me, and then gently kissed my forehead. Had he finally noticed my anguish? “Cherie, you’re the only person I’ll ever love and I know why we ended up together. That’s all that counts.”

  “Omigod.” I pushed him away and grabbed my chest. “Glad we’re near a hospital in case I need some Digitoxin. You
said you love me.”

  “Did I say that?”

  “In your round about way, you did.” I smiled through tears. “It’s amazing you can easily tell me about women in your life hating me, but can’t manage to say you still love me. Doesn’t matter, Gabriel. We both know why we’ll never be together again.”

  He reached over and kissed the top of my head. “Don’t say that, Blondie. And please don’t pull away from me. I just need to hold you for a minute.”

  As I turned my head, he turned his, and without notice, our lips met. It was an ever so gentle kiss, filled with the hot breath of irony like a kiss shared years ago. The only difference was that this kiss was under the stars with nature’s gentle sounds as background music—and there were no flickering dance lights or people screaming to be heard over a loud juke box.

  I allowed his arms to stay wrapped around me much longer than his requested minute, as tears rolled off my cheeks and onto the grass. I didn’t care who saw us and apparently neither did he. It was as if we both knew this would be the last time we would ever hold each other.

  28

  Even though I kept pushing Aidan’s marriage proposals into a “No thru traffic” zone, we continued dating long distance. Occasionally he got a bit pushy, asking why I seemed to be withdrawing, why I couldn’t give him a definite answer, why I postponed weekend trips to California, and so on. How could I explain? One must understand oneself before exegesis is possible.

  Aidan’s business brought him to Houston fairly often, and being with him was fun, interesting, and I gotta admit, a beneficial dose of sexual healing. Always whistling or humming, Aidan occasionally sang Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover as though the lyrics might make me ditch Gabriel from my memory bank. “The problem is all inside your head,” he said to me.

  I rarely saw Delilah, but we spoke occasionally. She lived a good distance from me, and hadn’t been introduced to any men I dated the past few years, including Aidan. For obvious reasons. Several summers back Nikki and I met her at a Mexican restaurant near her Cypress home, and I almost choked on a tortilla chip when she walked in wearing a bold print T-shirt that read: Willow Should Take Her Stinky Pinky Back to the UK. Willow Meath was a British neighbor who purportedly shagged several husbands in the hood, but when she snogged the spouse of a favorite neighbor, Delilah rendered her version of the Scarlet Letter by printing T-shirts. She distributed these throughout her neighborhood, and gave a buttload to homeless people who stood on nearby street corners. How she avoids lawsuits is beyond me.

  May ninth unexpectedly hit me harder than usual, so when Aidan encouraged me to take an August break in Newport Beach, I accepted. Maybe my feelings might deepen, and with limited time left for basking in the sun why not end summer under California rays?

  Days after my ticket arrived, Nikki called, talking full tilt. “The Old Man asked me to have you call him. He’s been trying to reach us for weeks and wants to know what’s going on with you.”

  “And?”

  “I wasn’t sure what to tell him. He thinks you’re moving to California.”

  “Is he okay? Health-wise?” I interrupted.

  “Yes. He said he really needs to talk to you and you can reach him on his car phone, beeper or call his house collect. At any hour.”

  “Where’s Fran?” I gulped.

  “They’re separated. He said they never married, but still have to get a divorce since they cohabited so long. I didn’t know what to tell him about you, so I just kept quiet.”

  Life has no plot. I had a ticket for California, was contemplating marrying Aidan, and now Gabriel separates from Fran. Beau would’ve thumped my head had I phoned Carpenter Boy. Fran’s departure simply meant one less female in the O’Quinn familial fortress, intent on keeping me out of Gabriel’s life. “For improved mental health, I’ve got to rise above the O’Quinn quagmire, Nikki. Please don’t relay any more personal messages from Gabriel. Emergencies only.”

  The time for me to detach and live life independent of Gabriel had commenced. Besides, this situation was a no brainer. Aidan was a wonderful guy who was offering me a life, far away from the heartbreak kid.

  “You’re still heading West, aren’t ya?” Aidan crooned into the phone.

  “You betcha, cowboy. I’ve got a new bikini and know how to use it—so get ready to lose at beach volleyball. I’ve got a mean spike that’s been looking for a victim since spring.”

  “Your spike can’t trump my bump pass, so don’t brag till we’re off the sand. Besides, my penetration style has been touted in trade magazines and I know your weak side. Beware.”

  “Oh pleeease, Aidan. You better get used to eating sand ‘cause that’s what you’ll be doing after my killer serves. Now, should I bring any formal threads or are we spending the week wearing slightly more than what Mother Nature gave us?”

  “I’d love that, but we do have one event that’ll require a cocktail dress. I bought you a little red number I saw in a shop window. You’ll look spectacular in it.”

  “Ah, you California men think flattery and gifts like sexy red dresses will draw girls out of their g-strings and into your G-force.”

  “Speaking of G-force, don’t forget to get flight insurance and list me as your beneficiary in case your plane crashes. This red dress had a hefty price tag and a no return policy,” he joked.

  “No can do, but I will bequeath my remains to you. I know how morbid you can be.”

  “You calling me a necrophiliac?”

  “Without getting into semantics, let’s just agree you’re strange and let it go at that.”

  “We’re both strange. Otherwise we wouldn’t be together.”

  “Ditto,” I agreed with his sentiment.

  “And no pressure, but use the flight time to contemplate moving here permanently.”

  “No pressure?” I asked. Being strapped to a polygraph machine seemed less stressful.

  “Just have a safe trip and know that I’m dying to see you.”

  All I could say was “Ditto.” The only person I would die to see at that moment was Beau. Over the past few months my desire to make my mentor proud had accelerated.

  “See you soon, gorgeous.” Aidan all but sang.

  My week in California wasn’t exactly pleasant. Health nut Aidan insisted I try a beach hut colonic. I’ll spare you the details. But even a hose up my bum and a delightful, doting boyfriend couldn’t hinder thoughts of Beau’s whereabouts or Gabriel’s decision to divorce Fran.

  Aidan had Nikki’s seal of approval, and she understood my reasons for not rushing forward with him. She seemed happy I was taking things slow for a change. Bless her heart. For years she listened to the repetitive rhythms of my breaking heart, and never once complained. Our bond has grown into a more special one than our previous link that entailed Nikki holding on while I shuffled her around more often than I switched lipstick shades. She cried for weeks when Mistletoe died, and cherishes Mistletoe Deux. Her genuine concern for others makes Nikki my reward in life. She received my dad’s natural ebullience; my mother’s forgiving attitude; Rachel’s knack for making children feel important; Cousin Jim’s tenacity; and Aunt Ellen’s non-judgmental spirit. She’s patient and calm like Gabriel, with an incredible fondness for nature, and like me, she’s a bit sassy—and really loves her music.

  Nikki’s relentless encouragement kept me checking with the Galveston café owner. Before long we were in negotiation mode. I wasn’t going to let that sweet shop slip by me, but had to be financially sensible in my endeavors. It would soon be mine, and I would follow Beau’s suggestion of serving lunch. The café’s small kitchen meant minimal remodeling. Filling it with antiques would be a breeze, seeing as how my house and two storage units were packed with countless items. No more storage fees and no need to purchase additional pieces for many months. If my house sold as quickly as anticipated, I could buy a home in Clear Lake, only thirty minutes away. Lots of cards on the table, but I was confident Beau’s Lady Luck was on my side.r />
  Nikki relayed messages about Gloria making grand strides with her heart treatment, but otherwise mentioned nothing personal about Gabriel O’Quinn. He had been the cynosure of my life for twenty-three years and forgetting him would not be easy. Still, I was determined to learn about life without him attached. How could I truly gauge my feelings for other men, while using Gabriel as a meter? But forgetting did not come easy. When May marked nine months of not hearing his voice, sharp memories began coursing through me like an inextinguishable fire. On May ninth, I couldn’t close my eyes without visualizing him. Sometimes I saw his face as it looked that night in ‘69 standing in the middle of the Jewel Box when I opened my eyes after our first kiss, and sometimes I saw his charming smile that cold winter day when he pulled his T-shirt over his head and gave it to me. Those images might never fade, so I stayed super busy to help push them further to the back of my brain. Between traveling to California and busting my buns refurbishing furniture for the grand opening of my (and Beau’s) shop, I spent time with Nikki. Unable to track down Patrice for guidance, I replayed Beau’s tape on Risk, drawing inner strength not just from the words, but from hearing his soothing bass voice.

  “If I come to Houston next weekend, what are my chances of getting your hands out of paint thinner and into something more fun?” Aidan asked.

  “You talking tanned flesh, cowboy?” My mind conjured images of his fab physique.

  “That, plus a surprise.”

  “I love surprises, which is why I’ll never install that new Caller ID technology.”

  “Well, I’d love to take you to a party at Roz and Roger’s. Roz found some numerologist guy she confers with before making decisions.”