by Claire Adams
I sighed and tried to smile. "Sorry. That'll cost extra."
Corsica considered my teasing. "How about a friendly pat on the back?"
"Sure." When she leaned over, I swung my arm over hers and tugged against my chest. "Or, how about a hug?"
Her head flew back and those blue eyes blazed. Then, Corsica looked at me and I felt all the playful fight run out of her. She wrapped her arms around me and held me tight.
Grief washed over me. My mother had been seriously ill for two years. The stretch of time made me dizzy. I should have been there for her. What if?
"That doesn't help," Corsica said.
"What?" I brush my bearded chin across her head before letting her pull back to look up at me.
"Asking yourself 'what if?' All of it was out of your control. And, your mother's illness is out of your control." She kept her arms around me.
"How do you know?" The question was genuine.
She shook her head. "I just do. That's why I also know that I'll ride down to Monterey in the helicopter with you, but then I'm going to catch a ride with a friend back to Santa Cruz. You don't need me getting in your way right now."
"No, I do." I grabbed her hand as she wriggled free from my arms. "I just need you to distract Xavier. Keep him from wheeling and dealing with me. I can't handle his business tactics right now."
Corsica twisted her wrist free from my hand with one smooth move. "Then we've struck a deal. This is strictly business and once we're in Monterey it's done."
I should have felt relief, but Corsica's words nagged me the rest of the morning. Even though we were still perfect strangers, there was a distance between us that I swore was not there before. I understood Corsica being cautious–it was a strange favor I had asked her–but there was something else. Every now and then, her glances looked over me like I cliff she was trying to avoid.
It wasn't until we were walking across the tarmac to greet my father that I realized how ridiculous I was being. "I'm sorry. We can say goodbye here. Maybe I'll see you in Santa Cruz one of these days."
She slipped her hand through my arm and gave me an arched look. "As if I'm going to settle for taking a taxi now. Besides, I need to practice my schmoozing techniques if I want that job at the Ritz."
Corsica's shadowed looks were gone as we settled into the helicopter's leather seats. "Mr. Templeton, I was wondering if you could tell me about how you learned to play piano. I've been considering lessons," she said.
My father shot me a knowing glance, but smiled. "Of course. That sounds like a very pleasant conversation for the flight."
She guided the conversation through music to flying and delighted in all the extravagant details of the helicopter. I sat back and watched, shielded by her light arm still intertwined with mine.
"I didn't get on an airplane until I was eighteen," Corsica admitted to my father.
"Really? Where were you, the dark side of the moon?" I asked.
Her arm tensed in mine. "Try Mars."
"I give up, Penn," my father said. "I've been trying this whole time to decide where she is from."
I squeezed Corsica's arm. I didn't know where she was from. I still wasn't sure of her last name. She didn't notice my prompting and looked out the window, instead.
"There's my house," I pointed out.
Xavier realized my mistake before I did. "He's always claiming he's going to buy it from me. At this point, I look at the property as an investment."
Corsica tugged her arm away from me and pressed a hand to the helicopter window. "That's where we're staying?"
I choked on a hopeful laugh. "Oh, come on, you don't need to pretend like we've never been there before. I get paid to check in on his investments. I told you that."
"Yes, it's just, I've, I've never seen it from the air before." She sat up and blinked her eyes as if she'd just woken up.
Her eyes still had the same, starry look while my father pretended to give her the tour. He'd never seen my home before, and he kept stumbling over his own discoveries. Corsica didn't notice as her eyes swept each room and then returned to the view. The Pacific Ocean crashed and sprayed just a few yards and a steep cliff away.
"I thought you were heading back to Santa Cruz tonight," I whispered in her ear as we lingered in the library.
She spun in a circle as she took in the towering walls of books, then her eyes drifted back out the window. "I bet you can see the moon set on the water here."
"It's beautiful. You'll love it," I said.
Corsica blinked off the temptation and caught up with my father. "I'm glad you stuck with simplicity. The strong lines of the architecture and the focus on the views will make this a timeless showcase of a home."
"It could use a few more furnishings, maybe some real art, instead of these finger paintings," Xavier said.
"Those are from one of mother's prized students," I said, crossing my arms.
"Your mother teaches second graders?" Corsica asked with a snobbish toss of her hair.
My father barked out a laugh. "No. That's just what it looks like when Alice helps someone find themselves."
Corsica smoothed her long hair with one hand. "I prefer Matisse."
I narrowed my eyes at her arrogant stance. "Oh, my mother is going to eat her alive, don't you think, Xavier?"
Corsica slid her eyes to me. "Why do you say that?"
"This whole perfect, good girl thing you've got going on? My mother will tear it to shreds. She sees right through people. Right down to what's hidden inside."
Xavier shook his head. "Stop teasing her. Alice Brightwater might be very direct, but she is not cruel. She is one of the most loving people I've ever met."
"Not that you ever deserved it," I said under my breath.
The closer we got to my mother's encampment near Pinnacles, the more I thought about what sharp words she would have for my father. After all these years, I still didn't understand how hearing them fight left me feeling cut.
Corsica felt my hesitation as we parked my SUV and walked up the dirt road. My mother's encampment resided on a sunny piece of property spotted with oak groves. Tucked between the trees were tents that scattered into the woods around a large, brightly swathed yurt.
When my mother flew through the colored scarves and enveloped my father in a long embrace, I couldn't tell who was more surprised, me or Corsica.
"Xavier, you're getting your shoes all dusty just to see me?" Alice asked my father.
"Dust? I'm walking on air just being near you."
A wave of nausea hit me. My father had always been charming and gallant, right before he turned.
"Penn?"
The bad memories broke apart as my mother turned to me. Before I knew it, I was wrapped in the familiar lilac and sage smell of her. All those years of comfort and strength she gave me. Now, her body felt frail in my arms, and I was angry at the world. How could she be sick? My sweet, gentle, angel of a mother?
"This can't be your girlfriend," Alice said over my shoulder.
I kept my hands on my mother's shoulders. "She is. This is Corsica."
"No, no. She's all wrong." She shook her long, flowing sleeves at Corsica. "She's all layers of plastic. She just wants money. No, more than that. Luxury. Oh, Penn, she's everything you fought to get away from."
"She means me," Xavier said to Corsica with a conspiratorial wink. "I was the worst. Looks like now it's your turn."
"How are you still not the worst?" I asked.
My mother caught me by both hands and tugged me around the curve of the yurt. She waited until my father gallantly offered to show Corsica the outdoor kitchen before she swatted me on the arm hard.
"Over two years. I haven't seen you in over two years and you bring some uppity, social climber to use as a human shield?"
"Me?" I scoffed. "You've been avoiding me for two years so I wouldn't interfere. And, what in the hell is going on with you and Xavier?"
Alice crossed her brightly colored sleeves. "He lets
you call him that now, doesn't he. Xavier's changed. Hasn't he talked to you yet?"
"No." I ground my teeth to keep from yelling. "No one's talking to me, most of all you. How could you not tell me you were sick?"
My mother waved away my question. "I know it hurts, darling, and for that, I'm sorry. But I didn't want you to worry and, you were right, I didn't want you to interfere. I still don't want you to interfere."
The pain thickened my voice. "But you went to him, instead."
Her soft hands swept over my cheeks. "He's always been my best counterbalance."
I squeezed her hands in mine and then dropped them. It was impossible, but I felt exactly like I had all those years ago, torn between two people and caught in a struggle I did not understand.
"Oh, my sweet boy. You need to talk to your father. And, you need to get rid of that girl. I sense lies," Alice said. She blinked and looked deep into my eyes. "You're lying. She doesn't know who you are."
"I'm not a Templeton."
"Are you a Brightwater?" my mother asked. She smiled and shook her head. "I see it, what you think of me. But who is really the reckless and unattached one?"
"God, I'm glad I brought a human shield."
My mother's cherry-red lips curled in a smile. "Yes, me too. I can't wait to see how she holds up."
I caught her sleeves. "Please, play nice."
"I could say the same to you. Why won't you at least listen to your father?"
My chest burned with frustration. "I don't want to hear a single thing that comes out of his mouth."
Alice's eyes pleaded with me. "Alcoholism is a disease, Penn. Your father never meant to hurt us."
"How can you say that? Here you are, the epitome of an independent woman. You teach people to trust themselves and to not let others hold them down."
"And I never would have found my truth if it wasn't for your father's mistakes."
I shook my head, feeling sick. "Those weren't mistakes. He was blind drunk, but he still managed to hit you. How can you just forget that?"
My mother gripped my arms. "I didn't forget, Penn. I forgave. I forgave your father, and it's time you do the same."
I reeled back from her. "This is insane. Next, you're going to tell me you love him."
"I do. I always did and I always will."
"I'm going to be sick," I said.
"Grow up, Penn." My mother's strong voice stopped me. "Don't you know by now that people lose control? People make mistakes and they hurt the people they love."
"Then it wasn't really love," I fought back.
Alice laughed, free and open. "You wouldn't know love if it bit you in the ass. I mean, have you honestly asked yourself why you dragged that stuffy, little blonde along? People do strange things when they are in love."
My mother was impossible to fight with. She flowed from intensity to humor and from obtuse claims to sharp observations at a dizzying pace. It was too much.
I held up both hands in defeat. "We're just here to have dinner and see how you are."
"Nonsense. You're just here to badger me about my treatments." Alice wrapped her arms around me and walked me back to the front of her yurt. "And I love you for it."
"So you'll forgive me for interfering?"
Alice watched my father and Corsica pick their way through the grass back to us. "Only if you listen to your father. He's trying to make amends."
"Without his checkbook?" I snorted.
Her bare foot crushed the arch of mine. "Stop being so stubborn. You're just like him. I can't believe he hasn't told you that he's in A.A."
"What?"
Alice breezed away from me and called out. "Lovely stew simmering, isn't it? We'll have it for dinner with some nice, fresh bread."
"Not unless you follow it up with a ten day course of antibiotics," my father said. "I know there's a resort nearby that has a five-star restaurant."
My mother flapped down the hill like a bird to argue with my father. I was mesmerized by their amused smiles as they fired clever reasons and defenses at each other. I wanted to resist it, but there was something so comforting in watching my parents get along with each other.
Corsica stepped aside and gave my mother a nervous glance. Then, she stumbled in her black heeled sandals as she climbed up the slope to join me. "I overheard there's a bus depot not far from here. I'll fake some roommate emergency."
I shook my head and laughed. "No one's going to buy that."
"So, why are they buying that we're a couple?" Corsica pinned me with a desperate look.
I didn't have an answer for her, and, even if I did, it would have been lost in the blue sky of her gaze. I held out my hand and chuckled when she slipped into my arms.
"Thanks for making me look good," I said.
"Are you sure it's working?" Corsica batted my overgrown beard away from her cheek. "I think your mother hates me."
"I told you, Alice has a way of seeing right through people."
"Yeah, well, it doesn't take the power of special sight for me to see I'm not welcome here." Corsica straightened her shoulders under my arm. "Besides, it looks like Mr. Templeton will be a good enough distraction. What's the story with those two, anyway?"
"A long one," I said.
"Let me guess. They were high school sweethearts, but you still don't like seeing anyone flirting with your mother."
I nudged Corsica with my hip. "I dare you to come to dinner and ask my mother what she was like in high school."
"See? I knew she didn't want me here. You're just teasing me."
I brushed back her hair and leaned down. My breath tickled the softly scented skin along her neck. "No. This is teasing you."
Corsica shivered as I pressed a light kiss on her fragrant skin. "What are you doing?"
"I don't know. I like you."
She shrugged then tipped her chin up. "Sorry. Doesn't matter if you like me. You came to see your mother, and she most certainly does not like me."
I glanced up to see my mother watching us. Alice hid her smile when I caught her and then tossed her wild, dark hair. "I suppose our little princess up there needs a place with linen napkins, otherwise she'll faint."
"Perhaps somewhere with a piano," my father added.
Alice's ears perked up. "Is she musical? Well, then, that settles it. We're staying here. There are no better acoustics anywhere than the canyon."
"What is she saying? What's happening?" Corsica clung to my side.
My father took my mother's arm and helped her up the hill. Her face was flush with the effort, but she waved away everyone's concern. "Don't worry, princess, I'm sure those good manners will shield you from actually enjoying yourself."
Corsica straightened up with sudden defiance, tossed her hair, and smiled. "Stew around a campfire sounds lovely, Mrs. Brightwater. Thank you."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Corsica - 7
"Before we head down the hill for dinner, just let me grab my shawl," Alice said.
I turned with Penn's mother towards the yurt and smiled. "You have a beautiful home," I said.
Alice Brightwater snorted. "You know, dear, it's easy to hear when someone's thoughts and words don't match up."
I tried again. "How could I not think this is beautiful?" I gestured to the large swathes of bold fabrics, the layers of patterns, and the doorway curtain made of gauzy scarves.
"Because you still see it as a tent." Penn's mother sighed as he gave her a look. "I suppose I could let you see inside. Maybe that will change your mind."
I stepped inside the yurt behind her and covered my surprise with a small cough. The round room made of framing covered with canvas was hidden behind thick tapestries. Sumptuous rugs covered the dirt floor with large pillows scattered in place of furniture. Moroccan lamps hung from the ceiling and glowed with the flickering light of candles. A sleeping loft added space as well as it created hidden storage.
"This is wonderful," I breathed.
"But you wouldn't want to s
tay here," Alice said.
I crossed my arms. "Maybe I would if I felt welcome."
That sharp retort earned me a smile, and Alice patted my arm as she swept past me. For a woman sick with breast cancer, she moved gracefully. I could see the frail bend of her shoulders before she pulled on the shawl and the sight squeezed my heart with hard memories.
Alice's sharp eyes were on mine. "You will be welcome when you stop hiding. Your thoughts and your words should be one."
I wasn't about to share my painful memories. It always felt like losing my mother all over again. So, I didn't say anything, I just pushed aside the scarves and stepped back outside.
There was already a small knot of people around the large campfire when we walked down the hill. Before we reached the quietly chattering group, Penn hooked my elbow and pulled me aside.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Yes," I lied. "I just don't think your mother likes me. She doesn't want me here."
Penn shook his head. "That's not true. Alice loves everyone. She's just pushing you. She wants you to open up."
I saw the curiosity all over his face and felt cold. My backstory only ever elicited pity and once people pitied me, they never saw me as anything else.
I brushed my hair back over my shoulders then twisted it into a tight bun. I didn't want pity. I wanted to be my own person and make my own way in the world. That meant leaving the past where it was and not digging it up every time someone was curious.
"Are you sure your mother's not just a bully?" I asked.
Penn laughed. "No. I'm certain she's a bully. Don't let her get to you. I'm living proof that you can survive without following Alice Brightwater's advice to the letter."
"What about Xavier? Does he follow her advice?"
"Looks like it," Penn muttered. He watched the billionaire settle his mother onto a log strewn with blankets. Xavier then took a seat on the soft dirt in front of her.
"They look happy together," I ventured.
Penn pulled a sour face. "Who knew that was even possible."
"What? That two people could make each other happy?" He slipped his hand into mine as squeezed as he pulled me into the circle. "Actually, I think I'm starting to figure that out."