by Lynn Murphy
The rest of the afternoon she and Mary Katherine worked on who she might contact and before the day was over she had a half dozen interviews. She declined to watch a movie with Evan and Mary Katherine and went upstairs. Alone in the guest room, she sat on the chaise lounge and considered throwing her pride out the window and calling Kel. She could just call to thank him for the flowers and then see what else he said. She took the phone in her hand and started to make the call, and then didn’t. Instead, she prayed for wisdom and his well-being and went to bed early.
Kel set aside the notes John had left with him concerning their campaign stops for the next two days. That wasn’t what he wanted to think about. Instead, his thoughts kept drifting to Tara. He had half expected her to call when she got the flowers. Then he would have had an easy opportunity to apologize and perhaps talk about how to get their relationship back on track. Of course he could call. But not knowing if that was what she wanted, he didn’t. Instead he said a prayer for guidance on how to handle the situation with Tara, and went to bed.
Chapter Nineteen
Evan and Mary Katherine sat in Ted Hunter’s waiting room and tried to act as if waiting for post chemo test results was just something they did every day. They weren’t doing a very good job of it. To say they were anxious was an understatement. Mary Katherine knew that it was worse for Evan because his medical knowledge of what could happen. She was glad to be a bit naïve as far as what the possible outcomes might be. Either way, they should know what her prognosis was in just a few minutes.
They were ushered back to Ted’ s office and held hands as they sat in front of the desk and waited for him to come in. When he did he held a folder that held her films and test results. He sat down and greeted them. Mary Katherine tried to read his expression. He didn’t look serious, but neither did he seem happy. She told herself that he never had much emotion and gripped Evan’s hand a little tighter.
“So, we got all your results back,” he said. “I’m giving these to Evan to look over, so there is no misunderstanding of what they say.” He handed Evan the folder. Evan took the CAT scans and held each one up to the light. He said nothing, just looked intently at each one and then read the lab reports in the folder. He put all the information back in the folder and handed it back to Ted. Mary Katherine’s heart was pounding in her chest.
“No sign of cancer. As of right now we are saying you are a ‘cancer survivor’ instead of a cancer patient.” Ted finally smiled at her. “I know the chemo was tough on you, but I am very glad that we did it. It wasn’t absolutely necessary, given how well your surgery went, but my patients who elect to do a precautionary round generally have a more positive prognosis.”
Mary Katherine took Evan’s hand again. “We’re done. I’m alright.”
Ted laughed. “Yes. But you will need to see me twice a year and given that it was ovarian cancer, I recommend visiting your gynecologist twice a year also. If either you or Evan thinks you need to see me at any time, just call.”
They waited until they got in the car before they both started talking at once. Evan leaned over and gave her a big kiss. “Let’s go somewhere you love for dinner. We need to celebrate.”
“No. I’d rather takeout something fun, like sushi, and watch a movie, and then, who knows?” She tentatively ran a hand down the side of his face.
“I like the sound of ‘who knows’,” Evan said.
He took her home and went back to work. They agreed that she would choose the movie and he would bring the sushi and that he would call Ross and George, and she Casey and Tara. Tara had taken a position at the local Fox affiliate and had just gotten an apartment. Julia and Michael were in town helping her get it set up. Mary Katherine missed having her here, but it was nice to be able to be alone with Evan to celebrate being, at least for now, cancer free. She made a quick trip to get a video, selecting a romantic comedy and hurried home. She went to her studio and ruffled through some photographs she had printed two days before. They were photos she had taken with a tripod while she and Evan had been out on the sailboat so that she could be in them too. She selected one of the two of them that she particularly liked and went into the dark room to print a bigger enlargement. She chose it do it in black and white and when it was ready, took out her hand coloring pencils and added hints of color. Satisfied, she cut a stark white mat and found a carved black frame. She put it together and wrapped it and took it upstairs to the bedroom and placed it on the window seat. She noticed a piece of paper stuck behind the cushion and when she pulled it out, discovered that it was an old photo of Harry. It must have fallen behind the cushion the night they had the big fight, on the anniversary of his death. She took the framed picture and sat it on the floor and lifted the window seat and put the photo back in the album and snapped it shut quickly. This was not a day she wanted to go down memory lane and think of Harry. As she started to close the seat, her eye caught another album, one that Evan’s mother had put together of all of his running accomplishments. That was better. She lifted it out of its place, closed the bench and replaced the framed photo. She sat on the window seat, crossed legged, and opened the album. She wasn’t sure she had ever looked at it, or if she had , it had been a very long time ago. Here was Evan as a very young boy, holding a big trophy and wearing a medal around his neck. Pictures of him actually running races, newspaper clippings, ribbons, medals on red, white and blue ribbons. Race numbers. She was so caught up in reading about her husband’s running career that she didn’t hear him come in. He called her name.
“Upstairs,” she said, still reading the article about his making the Olympic team. He stopped in the doorway, holding a bouquet of flowers and the scene was so much like the one on the anniversary of Harry’s death he wasn’t sure what to say. He hoped desperately that the scrapbook she was holding wasn’t full of pictures of her and Harry Thurston IV.
“What are you looking at?” He still stayed rooted to the door.
She looked up. “You. I found a photo stuck behind the cushion and put it away and I saw the book your mother made of your running awards. Come look.”
He literally felt the relief flood over him. Thank God, on this day, after everything they’d been through together the last eight weeks, she wasn’t in their bedroom thinking of Harry. He handed her the flowers and she kissed him and they went through the book and he told her about the races her remembered. The book ended with an article in the Annapolis newspaper about his making the Olympic team and there was a photo of him with his parents. It wasn’t missed by either one of them that it was the last photograph taken of Drake and Grace Jones.
“I’m sorry I never got to know them,” she said softly.
“So am I.”
His eyes lingered on the picture for just a bit longer and he closed the book. He didn’t want to be sad tonight. This was a night to be happy. He set it aside.
“Are we watching the movie while we eat or after?”
She considered that. “While we eat. Let’s bring everything up here.” They went downstairs for the food and a bottle of champagne. She laughed when she saw he had even brought strawberry Hagen Das and her favorite treat, blueberry chocolates. She grabbed the DVD and they set up a picnic on the bed and put the movie on. It was one of their favorite things to do, eat in bed and watch movies. It was something they hadn’t done recently and she had missed their movie date nights. As they ate and watched the movie she couldn’t help but think that for all the conflict that had occurred in their bedroom over the last twenty years, so many more happy memories were in this room. Their best conversations had taken place here as they drifted off to sleep, playing and reading to the O’Brien children when they came to stay, planning vacations, rehashing her art exhibits. And, she thought, in this room over the last few weeks had been the greatest outpouring of true unconditional love she had ever seen, in the way that Evan had taken care of her and given everything he had to give to make her feel loved and comfortable and cared for.
W
hen the movie was over, she cleared the plates and took them downstairs and when she came back, she handed Evan the wrapped photo.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“You know how they say a chef never cooks in his own kitchen? I guess an artist never does enough artwork for herself or her own home. This is for us.”
He tore open the wrapping and stared at the photo. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. Not fair making yourself look so good.” he leaned over to kiss her.
“It’s pretty beautiful of you too. If you don’t believe me, ask Casey.”
“You’re both biased. Thank you for this. One of your best.”
“And you aren’t biased at all.” She kissed him again.
He reached over to the bedside table and handed her a narrow flat box. Not surprising, but pleasant. He often gave her jewelry to mark milestones. She opened it and found a Pandora bracelet and extracted it from the box with a cry. She’d been wanting one and had thought he might get her one for Christmas, but here it was. She examined each charm. An artist’s palette, a camera, a sailboat, a heart, among others. Beautiful murano glass filler beads and crystal beads. She put it on.
“Thank you. I love it.”
He pulled her into his arms. “So. We’ve had dinner and a movie and exchanged gifts. We’ve had champagne.”
She looked into his eyes and said, “I guess that just leaves ‘who knows’.”
“You’re the only one who knows, Mary Katherine. The ball’s in your court. Your rules.”
The look of love on his face was almost painful to look at, because she felt so unworthy of being loved that much. She still wasn’t certain that she could give him what he deserved, but she was certain that tonight she was going to try.
Later, she propped herself up on her elbow and watched Evan sleeping. True, mountains hadn’t moved and at least for her it hadn’t been the most exciting physical moment of her life, but for the first time she felt that she had been an active participant. She had wanted to be there in the moment and it had hinted that there might be more nights like this, without the memory of someone else crowding in. She moved closer to him and he turned and put his arms around her and they both fell asleep and stayed there together until the sun came through the window the next morning.
Chapter Twenty
“This is exactly what I thought would happen,” Michael McCaffrey said. “He led you on and then dropped you without a reason.”
Tara stepped off the step ladder she had been standing on to hang curtains and said, “He did not lead me on and he did not drop me. I left.”
Julia put an arm around Tara. “But you never said why. And I just don’t believe the tabloids. I don’t think when he was with you that he was pining away for his wife who has been dead for fifteen years.”
Tara sat on the chair in front of the living room windows, which were now flanked with long silk panels in a yellow, red and black plaid hanging from heavy decorative iron rods. Two comfortable chairs with ottomans in a textured yellow fabric and a deep red sofa with accent pillows that matched the curtains and the chair fabric were anchored by an oriental rug in the same colors and distressed black coffee and end tables. She and Casey and Mary Katherine had gone on a whirlwind shopping spree and they had all three gravitated to the same colors. The room was coming together. She still needed artwork, which Mary Katherine promised to provide.
“I had argued with him because a photographer had followed me a little too closely and everyone else was trying to get his attention and he just blew up at everyone and said he couldn’t handle the relationship right now. He left the house and I panicked and quit my job and packed up and left. I should have waited for him to come back, but then it was done, and he didn’t call, and I didn’t, and well, here we are.”
“But he sent you those flowers,” Julia said.
“Julia, don’t encourage her into thinking this is going anywhere,” Michael said, taking the step ladder and going into the bedroom to hang another curtain rod.
“I guess I’ll see what he thinks about all this. They’ve assigned me to cover the campaign for the station here.” Tara moved to adjust the curtains a little.
“So you’ll be seeing him?”
“I will, but I don’t know how much access I’ll have to him. Don’t get your hopes up. The timing was all wrong, I think.”
“If he’s the right one, it will work out.” Julia gave her daughter a hug.
“Why does Daddy hate him so much?”
“He’ll have to tell you. He doesn’t hate him, exactly. But certainly he doesn’t want to like him.”
They went into the bedroom which Casey had dressed in black and white toile and a sunny yellow accent fabric. The curtains her father was hanging were a combination of the two fabrics and Julia exclaimed over how pretty they were. Tara thought that Casey definitely had a gift for interior design and when she completed her degree was destined to be quite successful, if her beautiful bedroom was any example of what she could do. She could hardly wait to see what kind of artwork Mary Katherine would bring over.
“If you must live in Washington,” Michael said, “at least you seem to have a comfortable and relatively safe place.” He put the step ladder away in a hall closet. “But I do wish they had given you something else to cover.”
“It makes sense Daddy. I was already covering the campaign. I have inside knowledge.”
“What does he think about that?”
“I don’t know that he does know.”
“Sweetheart, you just need to do your job, professionally, and when the election is over, move on.”
Kel listened as Janet fielded questions from reporters. She was completely at ease in her new role as spokesperson for her father’s campaign and ever since she and Jim had come on board they had risen in the polls. It was helping his image to been seen with his family, it deflected his single status. At this particular town meeting, the wives of the other two candidates and Janet were speaking first and answering questions, and then the candidates would have their turn.
As she passed him on her way off the stage, Janet gave him a hug and whispered in his ear, “Heads up, Tara’s here.”
And so she was, looking as beautiful as ever, maybe more so because he hadn’t seen her in so long. He wished at that moment he could postpone the town meeting and go somewhere where they could talk. But that would have to wait and he didn’t need to be distracted. It was too close to the end to lose potential voters now. The race was still closer than he would have liked.
Each candidate spoke, and Tara wondered how anyone could consider voting for the others; she had a strong dislike for the governor who had been criticizing Kel so rabidly and the third man still in the race had run three campaigns for the Presidency and never won the nomination. She knew she was biased, but Kel was more polished, more sure of what he stood for and what he wanted to do. When he answered the audience’s questions, he seemed to be sincerely concerned with what they wanted to talk about. She was reminded of the reasons for which she had fallen for him.
After it was over, she made her way to the front of the auditorium. He stopped talking mid-sentence, excused himself from the conversation he had been engaged in and met her halfway. Somewhere in her peripheral vision she registered flashes popping from many cameras. He didn’t kiss her, but he stood close and smiled down at her.
“How did we do?”
“Janet was amazing and you, well. The others don’t really stand a chance.”
“And wouldn’t your opinion be an unbiased one?” He asked the question in a very authentic sounding Irish accent. She had never heard him speak that way and he knew that she was surprised by it and waiting for an answer.
“My grandfather immigrated from Ireland, he never quite lost his accent and Dad used to quote him all the time. But then my mother was also Irish and she never lost her accent either. We can all drop into it anytime we choose, even our children.”
She laughed. Of course he co
uld, didn’t he speak five other languages fluently? “It suits you. How have you been?”
“Tired, lonely. Sad, even. But not sick.”
“And Skip and John and Kim?”
“All well. Skip does a little better every day. Coming on the road with us was the best thing for him.”
She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay with him forever. Neither of them seemed able to start the conversation they should be having, so she would leave it for another day. “I’ll see you soon. It seems I’m still following your campaign, just in a different job.” She looked down, to avoid having him see the tears welling up in her eyes.
“Tara.”
She looked up at him.
“Good night.” He hesitated, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Good night, Kel,” And she willed herself to walk away without looking back.
There were flowers again the next morning. She knew he’d called either Evan or Casey for her address and she was flattered that he had. They were beautiful, an array of wildflowers with a few white roses mixed in. The flowers James and Fiona O’Brien shared. Lily had spoken of a great love story between Kel’s parents.
Mary Katherine arrived soon after the flowers with several framed art pieces. They were a representation of several years of her work and different styles. An impressionistic landscape for the living room, traditional black and white photographs from a trip to Paris for the dining room, and for the yellow and black bedroom, a picture in the Newport series style, a black and white photo of Tara dancing with Kel with yellow tints.
“Evan said you might not want this one, but I loved it.” Mary Katherine said.
“It’s beautiful. It reminds me of Renoir’s Dancing In The City.” Tara liked it the best, although each one was perfect for the space for which it had been chosen. They hung the artwork and Mary Katherine admired the whole apartment and promised to have her over for dinner soon as she left.