“Now I know how you felt a couple of days ago.” He staggered to the door and let her out, then changed direction to the kitchen. It would take more than coffee this morning. Morphine would be good. He groped through the cabinet, popped eight hundred milligrams of ibuprofen, and drank from the glass he filled at the sink. He dropped his face into his hands, held his head until the vertigo passed, then saw the blood on his fingers. That it was still running meant the gash probably needed stitches.
He made his way to the bathroom mirror and confirmed his suspicion. After washing away the gore, he held a wad of cotton to his head while he dressed, then went to see Doctor Klein. He had seen the same doctor since he was twelve and wasn’t surprised by the reception he got. He should have come last night; he was asking for infection; he ought to be in bed.
Four stitches and a whole lecture later, Cal left. It was a compromise. He wouldn’t go to bed, but he’d take work easy today. No clowning around, Cal grinned to himself. And no driving, except to and from the station. That was okay. His neck and shoulders hurt like someone had worked him over with a crowbar, though everything was numbing nicely with the prescription pain-killer.
At the station, he slipped behind the cluttered desk and called Laurie. He caught her just going out. “Laurie, do you know anyone around here with a dark-colored Firebird?”
“I hardly know anyone here anymore. Why?”
She hadn’t paused at all as he’d expected her to. “One ran me off the road last night.”
Now she was quiet. “Are you all right?”
“I’ve been better.”
“Oh, Cal …”
“Listen Laurie, can I take you somewhere tonight?” Now the silence was longer than he liked. If she refused he’d have to patrol her house. This wasn’t about him anymore—about what he wanted for them. Laurie was in trouble. If at least she were with him … “Come on. What can it hurt to take in a show or something?”
“I can’t ask Mom to keep the kids when I’m not working, and I don’t trust a sitter with … this other business.”
“How about Cissy? You could bring the kids there. She’d pay you.” The pause stretched. Had he pushed too hard? Had he read more into her call last night than she intended? What if she didn’t want his help?
“All right. Call me this evening.” She hung up.
Yes! He’d gotten through. Eyes closed, he clenched his fist. If she were in trouble she might not want to tell him, but he’d get it out of her one way or another.
“Hallucinating, Morrison?” Rob walked in.
That was as close to a real jab as Rob had given him since his release. It felt good. Cal grinned. “Got a date.”
“Been that long, huh?”
“Stuff it, Kilmer.” Cal straightened in the chair. His sudden motion and the pain-killers made his head swim.
Rob leaned close. “What happened to you? You look a little peak-ed.”
“Your concern is touching. I had a run-in last night with a black Firebird. Some nut who thought he owned the road.”
“Huh. Hope you gave as good as you got.” Rob tossed a sticky pad on the table. “Rita left a message.”
Cal tore off the top sheet and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. When Rob left, Cal took out the note and dialed the behavioral health center. “Dr. Rita James, M.D., Psychiatry, hope to the hopeless and pillar of the fallen, please.” He leaned back, crossed his ankles on the desk, and waited.
Rita came on. “Why does my receptionist always know it’s you?”
“Why, Dr. James, need you ask?”
“Cal, are you on something?”
“Tylenol Codeine.” He pulled the bottle from his pocket. “Courtesy of Dr. Klein.”
“What for?”
“Head injury.”
“Be serious.”
“I am. I found a ditch with my jeep last night. The doctor laced my forehead and shelled out the drugs. Now, per our agreement, I’m letting you know.”
“How many?”
Cal shook the bottle. “Two left. But I’ve had so many already I could be seeing double.”
Rita clicked her tongue, and he laughed.
“Just kidding. I’m well in line, Doctor.”
“The trouble with you, Cal, is you don’t take mental health seriously.”
“That’s because I’m already on the dark side.”
Rita huffed. “I’m not taking the bait, Cal. This is your official follow-up check-in call. Are you doing all right? No more incidents?”
“If you mean have I found myself under the table fighting imaginary fires, no, not lately.” Not since he’d shown Laurie what he could do.
“Good.”
“Wanna play poker Friday?”
She laughed. “Sure. I could use a few bucks.”
“Pass the word to Reggie, will you?” He hung up.
It wasn’t a bad idea using the day to catch up on paper work. That end of his job was not his long suit, and it was more of a mess than he thought. Enforced stability was the only thing that kept him at it. It hurt too much to stand up.
Six hours later he called it a day. He’d been dozing for half of it anyway. According to the prescription he was due another pill, but he wanted to be sharp tonight. He left the pain-killers in his pocket and headed down the stairs.
Rob was doing housekeeping in the lounge. It had been a slow day all around. “Who’re you seeing tonight?”
“A flash from the past.” Cal clapped Rob’s shoulder and went out.
8
THE MAGIC OF FIRST LOVE IS OUR
IGNORANCE THAT IT CAN EVER END.
Benjamin Disraeli
A LITTLE AFTER EIGHT, Laurie went up the inside stairs to the door that opened from Mildred and Cissy’s rooms to Cal’s. She had left Luke and Maddie in the kitchen downstairs eating gumdrops and watching Cissy pop corn. She smiled. Under those conditions even Maddie was content to stay. She’d planted a kiss on her mommy’s lips, then given her full attention to Cissy’s candy jar.
Cal opened the door, and Laurie noted the stitched gash. He’d really taken a hit.
He covered it with his hand. “Sorry, I was changing the bandage.”
She stepped in but glanced once more down the stairs. “Think they’ll be okay down there?” She could hear Maddie giggling but knew how capricious her moods could be.
“You’ll have to purge their systems, but they’ll have a heck of a time.” Cal ducked into the bathroom and came back with a new gauze pad taped to his forehead. “There. No more Frankenstein.” But he’d have a new scar.
“Is it sore?”
“Not too.” He reached around the refrigerator and pulled out a plastic-wrapped bouquet of roses and baby’s breath.
Laurie looked from the bundle to his face. It would do no good to scold. On that issue, he was deaf to her complaints. She took the bouquet, fingered a peachy bloom, and breathed its scent, then set them on the table. “They’re nice, Cal. Thank you.” She bent to stroke the dog. “So this is Annie. Why would anyone dump such a nice dog?”
“Don’t know, but I sure do appreciate it. She keeps my bed warm.”
“Lucky you.”
He had the lights dimmed and Linda Ronstadt on the stereo, setting the mood. The sooner they were out of there the better. But looking around, she felt reluctant to leave. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but though it was old and broken up by eaves and arches, his place seemed welcoming … and safe.
“Ready?”
Her chest tightened. “Cal … I’m not comfortable leaving the kids.” That was true. She was tense, worried, though she didn’t want to alarm him again.
“Oh?” He stepped close and took her hands. “You want to stay here?”
Yes! She wanted to be close to him, in his place. Nothing would happen between them, nothing they would regret. She just wanted the comfort of Cal. “We could watch a movie or something.”
“Or something.”
The gravel in his voice made her pulse
race, but it would not go any further than that. She slipped her hands from his and took a step back, determined not to lead him on.
He shrugged. “Look on the shelf over the TV. See anything you want to watch?”
She crossed to the shelf and read the titles, frowning. All the Terminators, several James Bond, the Indiana Jones series, Gladiator. Hadn’t he finished with macho, fantasy heroes yet?
“My taste as bad as ever?” He met her there, took her hand, and pulled her close. “But you like my music.” He clicked the CD remote to a new song, wrapped an arm around her waist, and moved to the rhythm and lull of Ronstadt’s “Desperado.”
It was a memory song for them. He used to call her Desperado, said she was searching for all the wrong things. How had he known? She swayed against him and dropped her head to his shoulder. She needed to be held, and, as always, he knew it.
He rubbed his chin in her hair. “We always were good together.”
“All we did was fight.”
“Not all.”
No, not all. But that was past. Now it was different. It had to be. She’d blown her chance and changed everything. She had to live with that.
He circled her in his arms, held her close. “You fit better than anyone else. That’s why I saved your place.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
He threaded her fingers between his and said nothing.
She had to tell him. “Cal …”
He pressed their folded hands to her lips. “Don’t say it. Just pretend that nothing else matters, but you …” He kissed her forehead. “And me.”
She wished she could. She wished all the time and reasons that stood between them would vanish. But they wouldn’t, and she knew that better than he. She tried to back away. “I’m not good at pretending.”
“You, the great actress?”
“That was a long time ago. A phase. An attempt at finding myself. And you were the one with talent.”
“You were good too. That time as Lady Macbeth—”
“That wasn’t acting. I just put myself in my mother’s place and imagined the possibilities.”
He brushed his lips over her fingers and moved with her to the rhythm of the music. She couldn’t stop him. As wrong as it was, she couldn’t stop. Once again she was swept away by his presence, overpowered, even though he exerted no pressure. He just was. And it terrified her.
As the last strains of the song trailed into silence, he let their hands drop. “We need to talk.”
That jolted her out of her romantic reverie. “You don’t talk.”
“That was before I knew how.”
She remembered all her frustrated attempts at getting a straight answer from him. “You’ve learned?”
“I had a few months of intensive training.”
“A relationship?” The thought irked irrationally.
“More like a crash course in life skills.” He flicked a strand of hair back over her shoulder.
She raised her eyebrows, waiting.
“Group therapy. Debriefing an … incident.” He looked away.
Cal in therapy? Incident? Was he offering her honesty for honesty? She could learn what happened to him, why he’d acted as he had with Maddie, all his dark secrets from the last seven years. He’d tell if she would? The thought crashed against her wall. She couldn’t. Cal was the Lone Ranger. He’d take it and run. Instead, she reached a hand to his bandage. “How’s your head?”
“A little woozy.” He caught her hand and pulled her to the couch beside him, then hooked his arm over her shoulders.
She lifted it off and shifted over. Why did he have to be so physical? But she knew why. It was his nature to touch, and she’d given him no reason not to. She could now. She could tell him the part he needed to know.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me about Brian.”
Her throat constricted. Had he read her mind? She half believed he could, but only because he knew her so well.
“And why you got married so soon after swearing you couldn’t commit.”
He’d certainly learned to force the issue. “I don’t want to talk about that, Cal.” Hadn’t she made it clear? Tell him.
“You called me last night because you know you can trust me. So why won’t you?”
“It’s not about trust.” Tension rose inside her like baking soda and vinegar. Tell him everything.
“What are you afraid of, Laurie? Or should I say who?”
She pushed up from the couch and paced to the window. “I hate it when you do this.”
“Do what?”
“Question me and push me. Just like Daddy.” She felt eight years old again.
And why did the paint water spill?
I bumped it.
And why were you painting in the first place? In the living room, on the carpet? Haven’t you been told …
Cal stretched his arms across the back of the couch, waiting. She felt it in the knot of her stomach. Didn’t he deserve to be told? Why? Why should he deserve anything?
Angry tears stung her eyes. “Do you have any idea what it was like with my father? Not even knowing myself because I was so lost in what he wanted me to be?”
“I was there, remember? I took my share of knocks.”
That was true, even if it wasn’t fair for him to disarm her. She dropped her hands to her sides. “I know you did. You were the only one who stood up to him.”
“But that’s not what we’re talking about.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Okay, call me stupid, but how did we get from why you got married to how your father treated you?”
She paced to the recliner and picked up a throw pillow, then stroked the velvety blue surface and turned. “We’re talking about why it didn’t work for us. Isn’t that what you really want to know?”
“Laurie, you have me so confused, I don’t know what I want.”
“It’s about losing myself, Cal.”
“What?”
She clutched the pillow to her chest. “I felt too much for you.” She watched the emotion play across his face. In all their time together she had never admitted loving him. Even now she didn’t say it. She couldn’t. But he had to understand. “I’d lose myself in you. I’d be whatever you wanted me to be. Daddy’s little girl all over again.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
She turned away. “I don’t know why I’m wasting my time. You didn’t understand before; you don’t now.”
“And Brian did? Or is that why you’re divorced?”
She gripped the pillow, fighting the anger. Why was she here, submitting to this?
“If it’s none of my business, say so. But something’s going on here, and—”
“I never should have called you. I should have known you’d go overboard. You have a hero complex.”
“Is that right?” Cal sagged on the couch. His face look harried. His voice was hoarse. “A hero complex. Well, I guess it could be worse. What did Brian have, Laurie, that you wanted enough to marry him?”
She flung the pillow hard, missing only because he deflected it. “What did he have that beat this penthouse suite in Nowhere, USA? Everything! He wasn’t afraid to be someone, to use his talents. He didn’t think poverty was a virtue. He wasn’t content with mediocrity.” What was she saying? Why was she defending Brian’s twisted morality and holding it over Cal’s head? It was herself she was describing. “Just stay out of my life, okay?” Fury burned through her veins as she stalked to the door and flung it open. What did Brian have that she wanted? Nothing. But she couldn’t tell Cal that. He would see it all, the emptiness, the fear.
Cissy had the children on the floor cutting and gluing beans to construction-paper turkeys. Maddie’s oozed like something out of Alien. Laurie drew a long breath and pasted on a smile. “I hate to interrupt this industry …” She heard Cal’s door open upstairs but didn’t look.
He wouldn’t make a scene, not here in front of Mildred and Cissy. Mild
red’s knitting needles clicked furiously where she sat on the end of the couch. Laurie caught the glance Mildred sent Cal as he came down the stairs, but she didn’t look his way. Why wouldn’t he just leave it alone?
“Oh dear, I thought we’d have time for them to dry.” Cissy clasped her hands.
Maddie held the sticky turkey up and the beans began to slide. “For you, Mommy.”
“It’s pretty, Maddie.” Laurie set the picture down and tugged Maddie’s mittens on. “Get your coat, Luke.”
“If I move my turkey, it’ll run.”
“Lay it flat and put on your coat.” She sensed Cal beside her. Gathering herself, she glanced up.
He held out the bouquet. A simple gesture, an offering, a kindness. Why did he do that? Make her feel beholden, forgiven, cherished?
She took the roses. “Come on, Luke.” She herded the kids to the door. “Thanks, Cissy.”
Cissy beamed. “We’ve had a lovely time. Bring them again, won’t you?”
Cal reached the door ahead of her and pushed it open. “I’ll walk you out.”
“There’s no need.”
He followed anyway and waited while she buckled the children in. He stood by her door and pulled it open. “Be careful. It’s wet.”
She nodded.
“Laurie …”
“I know. I’m sorry, too.”
He bent and kissed her cheek, his lips warm and dry. “Take care of yourself.” It was there in his voice, something vulnerable, something she was sure she’d never heard before. He was saying good-bye, giving up on her at last.
Her heart ached. “You, too, Cal.”
Laurie hustled the children up the stairs and brushed their teeth for them, even Luke’s. Cissy and her candy jar. But the kids were bubbling. She could hardly hush them long enough to get jammied and in bed. Finally she gave in to Luke playing Tarzan for a few minutes and tucked Maddie once again into the big bed.
She didn’t climb in next to her, though. She changed into her nightshirt and went back downstairs. Sleep wasn’t likely to happen soon. She shivered. Drafty old house. Maybe a cup of tea … She snapped on the kitchen light and froze. The new window was shattered, the glass scattered on the floor, the cold air chilling the room. But that wasn’t what froze her.
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