Never Too Late

by Julie Blair

  “Hand me my half?” Jamie pointed to the stack of patient files on the file cabinet.

  “With the forensic accountant working on it you don’t need to push so hard.”

  “I let it happen.”

  “Have you heard from your attorney about where things stand with the DA?”

  “Nope. But when I talked to him last week he agreed with you that what we’ve found should get me out of trouble with the state board.”

  “Did you tell him my idea for leveraging the insurance companies into dropping the fraud charges?”

  “He said he should have thought of it.”

  “Money will win, Jamie. They won’t want to pay for all the services you didn’t bill for but legally could have. You should be out from under this soon.”

  “I hope.” It was hard not to believe in Carla’s optimism.

  Jamie smiled at the Ziploc bag full of cookies sitting in the middle of the new desk. Carla. Melissa’s voice came from the iPod behind her. Carla. Yes, she could get used to being taken care of. As she slid into her new chair she noticed the pink envelope under the bag with her name written in distinctive left-handed script. Carla again. She slid her index finger under the flap and pulled out the card, laughing at the sepia-toned picture of two little girls holding hands on a swing. “I’m glad we’re back in each other’s lives. C.” She set the card next to her father’s picture and opened the Ziploc. Sticking her nose inside, she inhaled the buttery, sugary smell.

  “Most people prefer to eat them, but if you have a cookie-sniffing fetish, be my guest.”

  Jamie pulled a cookie out of the bag. Stuffing the whole thing in her mouth she made exaggerated chewing motions, moaning the whole time. She held the bag out to Carla.

  “I put some in the break room so those are all yours. I’ll be up front if you need me.”

  Jamie snuck into her office for several more cookies throughout the morning. In fact the whole staff was wiping cookie crumbs off their faces. Carla had even set a plate on the front counter for patients. So many ways Carla took care of people.

  Jamie looked up from her desk when Carla walked into her office and said, “Lunch is ready. We’re having—”

  “Lasagna. It was one of my favorite meals when I was a kid.”

  “You peeked. And your attorney’s on the phone.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there in a minute.” Jamie picked up the phone. “Pete. Please give me some good news. Did you hear from the state board?”

  “Not yet, but I’m sure the evidence we sent them will prove you didn’t know what Marjorie was doing. The DA’s office called this morning. They want to meet with us Monday.” Jamie stared at Carla’s card, trying to ignore the anxiety and fear that were combining in her gut.

  “Do they want us to bring anything?”

  “No. And don’t worry, Jamie. I’m sure it’s good news. I’ll swing by your office and pick you up about noon. Have a good weekend.”

  Jamie twirled her pen and stared at her father’s picture. The new pewter frame set off his silver-gray hair, and she tried to draw strength from his confident expression.

  “Everything all right?” Carla asked from the doorway.

  “The DA wants to see me Monday.”

  “I’m sure it’s good news.”

  “You’re probably right.” Jamie got up from her chair and set a smile on her face. Her mom always said to expect the best and ignore the worst. “I love my new chair.” Jamie sat back down and then stood up again. It felt great not to fight her way out of it. “I love the whole room, Carla.” The dark paneling was gone, replaced with Sheetrock and a fresh coat of creamy yellow paint that lightened the room and blended well with the burgundies and golds. The ugly Oriental rug was gone.

  “It suits you. I’m glad you brought these in.” Carla straightened one of the botanical prints on the wall.

  “Me, too. My mom loved collecting them, and I remember them on the walls of her bedroom.” It felt good to look around her office and see reminders of her mom.

  *

  “We’ll see you next month. Good luck with the new job.” Carla locked the front door behind the young man who was still in his white chef jacket. She straightened up the reception area and then finished entering the day’s billings. Taking the bouquet to the break room she snipped off the stems and put them back in fresh water, pulling a few of the pink roses up higher in the center.

  She was stalling and she knew it. Leaving at the end of the day always felt like pulling herself away from a favorite movie. Tonight the fantasy of music and being swept into Jamie’s arms was painfully strong. Maybe it was her birthday bearing down on her—the first one in her new life. At least she’d spend part of it with Jamie. The Sunday-morning runs had become the cornerstone of her weekends.

  Carla gathered her things and stopped at Jamie’s office on her way out. She was leaning back in her chair, eyes closed, an open patient file on the desk. Maybe by this time next week this ordeal would be over. The knot she’d felt when Jamie told her about the meeting with the DA wound itself into her stomach again. She had a bad feeling about this whole mess. She’d spent so much time retracing Marjorie’s tracks she felt she knew the woman. She’d been devious and incredibly daring to do so much right under Jamie’s nose. It was also odd that she hadn’t altered billings for any of the associate doctors. It felt personal against Jamie.

  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Jamie opened her eyes and motioned for Carla to come in. “Got your usual Friday-night date?”

  “Dinner with Vanessa.” One of Melissa’s early songs was playing, and Carla wanted to pull Jamie out of her chair and dance with her.

  “Seeing a lot of her,” Jamie said, as she leafed through the file.

  “She’s fun to be with.” Carla forced all the frustration of her feelings for Jamie behind a smile. For all that she valued their friendship, there were things she’d never be able to talk to her about. Like why she found herself physically attracted to Vanessa when she knew she was still in love with Jamie. She wanted to fall in love with Vanessa. She wanted to have her feelings for Jamie replaced, but her heart wasn’t cooperating.

  “Have you considered dating other women? You’re kind of new to this and…well, you wouldn’t want to get tied down until you’re sure you’ve found the right person.”

  Carla ignored the stab of jealousy that made her feel childish. The right person wasn’t available. “I had coffee with a woman from the book club I joined.” The date with the college professor was intellectually enjoyable but lacked sparks. Carla sighed as disappointment settled around her. For all the dating and joining groups and meeting new people, her life wasn’t moving forward. “Mike wants me to go on Internet dating sites.”

  “You’ll find someone. It takes time.”

  “I guess.” Carla stood and pulled the outer petals off some of the roses, freshening the bouquet. “I want more than I had with Mike. I want to fall in love.” Carla’s throat tightened in a rush of longing. “Heart pounding, body tingling, doodling her name in the margins, can’t wait to kiss her…” She pulled herself back to reality, unable to look at Jamie for fear her expression would give away her feelings. “Enough dating talk. I should get going. Like the earrings, by the way.”

  Jamie fingered the diamond studs. “I hope so. You helped me pick them out. I always wanted my ears pierced.”

  “You should keep doing the things you always wanted to do.”

  “Careful what you encourage. I went through a phase in college when I wanted to buy a Harley and just take off.” Jamie moved her hands as if revving the engine.

  “That doesn’t seem like you.” Carla’s mouth went dry when her mind created an image of Jamie in tight leather pants and one of those jackets with all the zippers. And a tight white tank top under it.

  “I was lost for a long time after my mom died.”

  “She’d be proud of what you’ve done with your life.”

  “Would she?�
� Jamie looked sad. “Enjoy your evening.”

  Carla couldn’t say what she wanted, couldn’t comfort Jamie the way she wanted. She walked to her car, her body tingling in all the right places but for the wrong woman. Her mind was clear on the boundaries but her body had missed the memo. At this rate she’d be married to her vibrator for the rest of her life. She groaned in frustration.

  *

  Jamie was barely inside her front door when Sheryl shoved an envelope under her nose. “It says they’re putting a lien on our house.”

  “You opened my mail?” Jamie snatched the envelope from her.

  “How could you let this happen?” Red blotches on her cheeks marred Sheryl’s usually flawless skin.

  Jamie sat down hard at the dining-room table and read the letter from the IRS. “I knew I was being audited but—”

  “You didn’t tell me?” Sheryl’s voice was close to a screech.

  “I’m handling it, Sheryl.” Jamie surged to her feet, furious with Marjorie and the IRS and Sheryl and anyone within two miles. “You don’t want to know anything about my business problems.” She stormed to the liquor cabinet.

  “It’s not just your business.” Sheryl’s angry voice followed her. “You’ve put our home at risk.”

  Jamie sloshed Glenlivet into the tumbler and drank half of it. She rubbed the back of her neck. The muscles were bunching into what would soon be a headache. Would she ever have her life back?

  “What are you going to do about this?”

  Jamie banged the glass down on the cabinet and marched to the bedroom, unbuttoning her shirt, Sheryl close behind. “Tonight? Not a goddamn thing. I’m going to sit in the hot tub and—” Jamie stopped. Overnight bags were on the bed. “What are those?” Her heart clenched. Was Sheryl leaving her?

  “I told you I had a seminar this weekend.”

  “You did? I guess I—”

  “You’re forgetting a lot lately,” Sheryl said, sarcasm topping the anger. She reached for the bags.

  Jamie grabbed her hand. “Don’t go tonight. Please.” Tears filled her eyes. “I’ll make it all right. I promise.” Jamie flinched at the cold look in Sheryl’s eyes. Not a speck of understanding warmed them.

  “You’ve been saying that for months, Jamie. I trusted you,” Sheryl hissed as she yanked her hand away. The bags banged against the doorframe as she stalked out.

  “I always carry her bags,” Jamie said to the empty room before collapsing onto the bed, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  All the optimism she’d let Carla talk her into was gone. She was going to lose her house, and for all she knew, the DA would press charges against her. Clutching the bedspread she battled mounting anxiety with forced deep breaths that did nothing. Sheryl’s car roared out of the driveway and an unwelcome silence filled the room. Everything she cared about was slipping away, and she was afraid it was too late to stop it.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Jamie watched the sprinkler spraying back and forth across Carla’s lawn as she rolled the corner of the yellow place mat. Melissa’s voice was coming through the open patio doors—a song from her first album. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Plates with sunflowers and a small white vase with two of the roses Carla had called Secret leant a festive air, but Jamie wasn’t in a festive mood.

  The energy from their run was wearing off and fatigue was replacing it. She’d barely slept Friday night after Sheryl left, and she’d stayed at her office until after midnight yesterday, matching the last of the patient files against the EOBs. She’d be ready with whatever the DA wanted. A preliminary total of the dollar amount of Marjorie’s embezzling shocked her and sent her into another sleepless night.

  She should have cancelled out on the run but just couldn’t face a whole day in the empty house fighting the panic that Sheryl might not forgive her. If she’d known Sara wasn’t joining them for breakfast she would have backed out. Holding up her end of the conversation would be hard and hiding that something was wrong, harder.

  Carla had asked her too many times yesterday if she was all right. She couldn’t exactly confide in her. Another thing she hadn’t handled well. If Sheryl was this angry over the IRS problem, what would happen if she found out who her office manager was? Could this weekend get any worse?

  The chime that meant she had a text startled her, and she snatched her phone from her pocket, praying it was Sheryl. Penni. Her heart plummeted, but she had to smile as she read the joke. She’d been sending them all weekend—her way of trying to boost Jamie’s spirits.

  “Something wrong?” Carla set plates on the table, one piled high with blueberry pancakes, the other with bacon.

  Jamie put her phone back in her pocket. “No.”

  Sitting down across from Jamie, Carla stacked three pancakes and twice that many pieces of bacon on each of their plates. “Extra crispy,” she said. “Just the way you like it.”

  “I can’t eat all that,” Jamie said, her stomach rebelling.

  “You always eat this much after a run.” Carla sounded hurt.

  Jamie reached for the butter and syrup, feeling guilty for her bad mood. It wasn’t Carla’s fault her appetite was lost in anger at Marjorie and fear about the DA meeting and financial problems and worry about Sheryl. “You didn’t have to fix breakfast just for me.” The butter she slathered over the pancakes was soft and dripped down the sides as she added her usual liberal amount of maple syrup. The syrup was warm. Jamie stared at the plate. Was there any end to Carla’s thoughtfulness?

  “You know how much I love to cook, and it’s hard to get used to cooking for one. You’re doing me a favor.”

  “Sara will be sorry she missed this.” Jamie finished the fresh-squeezed orange juice. “What’s wrong?” Carla looked like she was about to cry.

  “Sometimes I miss my old life.”

  “I’m sorry it’s hard.” For all Carla’s competence and thoughtfulness, Jamie sometimes forgot that she had struggles, too. She squeezed Carla’s hand. “How’s Lissa?”

  “Better. Last night she asked more questions about how I decided I was a lesbian. It’s a little awkward to explain.”

  Jamie looked up from cutting the pancakes into little bites, hoping she could get them down. “You didn’t—”

  “Of course not, but that night affected her, too.” Carla’s eyes had a mischievous spark.

  “Her name.” Jamie had suspected it. Why had she thought that night hadn’t mattered to Carla?

  “If she’d been a boy she would have been Bruce. Springsteen is Mike’s favorite rock star. I never had a favorite until that night. I love this song,” Carla said, air tapping her fork to the beat. “I remember it was the last one she played that night.”

  “When did you start going by Carla?” Jamie asked, when the song was done. It was one of her favorites, too.

  “Shortly after Lissa was born. Carla sounded more like the name of a woman with a baby.” Carla hesitated, swirling a bite of pancakes in syrup, as she seemed to gather her thoughts. “That night…you gave me something to pass on to my daughter—a sense of what it felt like to find myself. I decided before she was born I’d make sure she had that chance, too.” Carla’s eyes held Jamie’s. “I never forgot how out and proud you were. I want her to know she’ll always be loved for who she is.”

  “She’s a lucky girl,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say. Jamie was so far from that person. They hadn’t talked about that night since the day Carla hurt her back. It was the past and they’d moved on. Ex-lovers and new friends—wasn’t that the lesbian way? “Tell me about your book club,” Jamie said, looking for safe ground as emotions swirled through her.

  “More coffee?” Carla asked, when their forks stopped for good.

  “Half.” Closing her eyes and stretching her legs out, Jamie tilted her face to the sun, seeking the relaxation it always gave her. She yawned. A nap in the sun sounded heavenly. By the time Sheryl got home she’d be rested and ready to fix her favorite dinner. She’d
make this up to Sheryl. With luck, tomorrow she’d have good news and all this would be behind them. Jamie relaxed into the sound of Carla’s voice as they sipped coffee and Carla talked about her garden. Finally, coffee cups empty, they gathered up the dishes and carried them to the kitchen.

  “Did you have a birthday recently?” Jamie looked at the cards arranged across the sideboard.

  “Would you believe it’s today?”

  “Wow…forty-two.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I asked that night.” A rush of memories captured her and she shook them off. That was the past. “I wish I’d known it was today. I would have—”

  “Your company is present enough.” Carla was standing next to her, drying her hands on a dishtowel.

  Jamie fingered one of the cards, and her heart clenched with emotion she couldn’t name.

  “What’s wrong, Jamie? Is it the meeting tomorrow?” Carla put her hand on Jamie’s back.

  Jamie shook her head. Her throat tightened, and she couldn’t move away from the warmth and comfort. When Carla pulled her into a hug she didn’t fight it. She held Carla’s waist and counted the seconds. How long was too long for friendship, and how had this friendship come to mean so much to her? How badly she wanted to tell Carla everything. Stepping back she looked down at Carla’s bare feet so close to her tennis shoes, the nails a tasteful pink. She put her hands in her pockets and took another step back.

  “What are you doing for your birthday?” She’d get a present next week—something for her garden or her kitchen.

  “Mike’s taking me out to dinner. I was thinking of treating myself to an afternoon curled up on my couch with popcorn and my favorite movies. There’s something decadent about watching movies in the middle of the day. Kind of like playing hooky.”

  “I could use a day of playing hooky.”

  “Join me.”

  “I should get going.”

  “It’s my birthday.”

  It was a small thing to ask, and after all Carla had done for her how could she say no? Maybe doing something nice for Carla would cheer her up and she’d be in a better mood when Sheryl got home. Maybe she just didn’t want to go home to an empty house. “If you’re sure.”