“Richard is coming for dinner tomorrow night,” Charlotte said. “I’ll plan on your being there?”
“I’ll take the blouse back, Mom,” Jordan said. “But I might be late.”
Brie reached for the basket as Jordan’s mother turned to leave. “Here, take some, please. I’m sure Jordan won’t mind.”
Jordan walked her mother back down the hallway. The children had been quiet, watching the exchange. She laid the bag with the blouse on the counter as she came back and sat, shaking her head.
“So you’ll be going back to the mall?” Brie teased, looking pointedly at the bag.
Jordan sighed. “Right. However, we had the most interesting afternoon. It was just the two of us, and that was a first.”
“How do you manage that?” Brie started to laugh. “I’m the official to-the-mall person for my mother.”
“Lucky you,” Jordan said wryly. “Actually, it was nice. My mother is changing, and frankly, she’s much nicer, easier.”
“My dad’s dead and I’ve been close to Mom these last few years. She’s always been a real stay-at-home mother and I don’t know how I would have made it without her.”
Jordan shook her head. “My mother was never a stay-at-home mom. When Dad was alive, they were very active socially. I hardly ever saw her.” She pushed the food on her plate. “When my father died and Mom was left here, alone with my two older brothers and me, it was too much. Uncle John and Nancy helped.” She looked at Brie and then at her children. “This is better discussed at another time.” She pointed at Brie’s plate. “You ate it all. Would you like more?”
“I love summer pasta, so more, please, and great job on the chicken.” Brie speared several slices of tomato for herself and put one on Jenna’s plate.
“I want what Brie’s having. Noodles.” Jenna pointed at her plate and studied the tomato. She took the last tomato out of the basket. “This is so big.”
Jordan laughed. “Attack of the Killer Tomatoes.”
“What?” Brie looked up.
“Just an old movie that I keep around that makes me laugh.”
Brie looked down at Jenna. “Jenna, I have a very important question for you. Does your mommy have a tattoo?”
“That’s enough,” Jordan said as she dished more food onto the plates. “Don’t say anything, Jenna, or there won’t be any dessert.”
“The way you treat your children.” Brie shook her head.
*
They took their iced tea to the patio after the kids were in bed. The warm September dusk glazed the lake to a warm gray and Brie settled into her chair with a rare peace.
“You know, of course, that Mom was just sneaking over here to see who I honored with my first dinner,” Jordan said. “I’m certain she was hoping you’d be six foot five and handsome with a deep voice and manly muscles. Oh, and your name would be ‘Bob,’ not Brie.”
“Don’t you mean Richard?” Brie said. She shot Jordan an impish smile.
“God. I’d already forgotten. Tomorrow night and…Richard.” They both broke into laugher.
“I don’t care. You can practice on me. Just call me Richard now,” Brie quipped and they laughed again. Brie stretched her legs out, propping them on another nearby chair. “Actually, your mother seemed nice. Has your family lived here long?”
“I’m third generation in Milwaukee. This city has quite a history. Well, you teach it. I expect that you know it much better than I do. Pete loved this city’s history. He’d pick up every book he could find on it.”
“Those are his history books in your office?”
Jordan nodded. “Actually, we both read a lot, but I prefer fiction.”
“Would you mind if I went through them? I’m working on a project right now, an election in the late eighteen hundreds, and I’m always on the prowl for something new.” Brie relaxed farther into her chair. “On a different note, my youngest sister, Emma, was at my house this morning and kind of rescued me.” She kicked off her shoes and sighed.
“Emma? I met her at her gallery yesterday. I would have told you last night but, in the confusion, I forgot.”
“Confusion? That’s kind. I thought I was going blind when I woke up this morning.”
Jordan gave a snort. “I’ve been there. I kept the entire beer industry solvent after Pete was killed.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Pete?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t talk about it.” Jordan took her earrings off and stretched her legs. “We dated in high school and found each other again the last year of college. He died doing something he loved, and I suppose that’s as good as it gets.”
“As good as it gets?” Brie echoed, thinking about Niki, how happy they were that day.
“It’s been about five years,” Jordan said. “It wasn’t on purpose that I didn’t tell you. I’m simply trying to get on with my life.”
“I didn’t talk about Niki. We’re even,” Brie said. “That wallet? It was Pete’s?”
Jordan nodded. “It had all of his identification and information. The things I needed for the funeral and everything. I carried it right after he died and never got out of the habit. I still wear the ring to keep the guys away.”
“Must be a straight woman thing.”
Jordan held up her hands. “I deserve that after last night. All the things I said to you. But you still wear your ring.”
“Here,” Brie said, handing Jordan the ring. “Niki designed this.”
“Faeries. I’ve never seen anything like this. Beautiful silver and gold. These are the same as in your bathroom?”
“Niki painted those too,” Brie said and slid the ring back on her finger. She looked at Jordan with a small smile. “You love to tease, don’t you? You’d be dangerous in my world.”
“Dangerous?”
“Sure. Cute and cocky with that hint of bad,” she said with a hint of come-on.
“It’s not a hint. Unfortunately.” Jordan exhaled. “I’ve been a good mother, Brie, but not a very nice woman.” She swiveled in her chair to look at Brie. “Were you just flirting?”
“Dream on, Carter.” Brie laughed, absolutely flirting and enjoying it.
They stared at each other for a moment, and Brie felt a nice glow slip inside. She hadn’t flirted with anyone since Niki and it felt good, but she ended the conversation before it took a turn she didn’t want to deal with. “Isn’t it odd? Both Pete and Niki dead?”
“And Niki’s family gone.”
Brie looked out at the lake. “Niki’s case is still open.”
“Open? George and Patrick said it was a random shooting.”
“As far as I’m concerned, it is.” Brie bent to pick up her glass. “However, the police don’t want to let it go. They still call me occasionally because I survived.”
“Survived? Were you there?”
“I was shot too,” Brie said after a deep breath. “That part’s a blank. I remember waking up in the hospital…that’s it. It’s part of the reason I volunteer at Omni. It helps, somehow.”
“You were shot?” Jordan looked shocked.
“I’m healed, physically. At least to the point where I was just beginning to do a little running.” She frowned down at her hands. “I’m actually thinking of selling the house and moving to the West Coast. I’ve had two offers to teach out there next year.”
“Oh no, you don’t. You’re not allowed to move. I’ve just met you. There has to be a rule about new friendships.” Jordan concentrated. “Let’s see, how many seconds when you drop something on the floor? Or the thirty-second time-out in basketball.”
“It would be hard to leave my house. Still, I need to get on with my life.”
“How do you stay there, alone?”
Brie’s therapist had asked her that too but, Brie wondered, where else would she be, other than their house? “I don’t know how to answer that. Sometimes, in this mess, I forget Niki’s not coming home, but I like the comfort of knowing the little things. For example,
where the silverware is, the soap in the bathroom. Do you know what I mean? We put ourselves into every piece of that house. It’s almost like another person.”
“Are you seeing a therapist?”
“Yes, and she’s been an enormous help. A lot of people have helped. Actually, you’re helping. I’m really enjoying tonight.” Brie tracked some kind of bird across the sky. The evening still felt good to her and something lifted inside her. Hope?
Jordan stood. “Come with me and I’ll show you my studio, but I have to warn you, I haven’t cleaned in there for quite a while. In fact, I hadn’t been in there for weeks until yesterday morning.”
“I don’t care,” Brie said, rising. “I’d like to see what you’re working on.”
Jordan held out her hand. “Is your side better? You stood easily.”
“I wasn’t standing easily last night,” Brie said ruefully and took the offered hand. Jordan’s skin felt warm and safe, just as her arms had before. It was the first time anyone had held her hand like this since Niki, and she liked the little tingle that ran up her arm.
“That wasn’t the bruised side. That was the wine,” Jordan said mischievously.
“I meant to tell you that your eye looks better. That yellow and purple…very attractive with the green dress.” Brie scanned Jordan’s body, enjoying the bare skin and how the fabric held what must be fabulous breasts. They certainly looked fabulous.
Jordan scoffed a little laugh and, still barefoot, led the way to the studio. The moonlight was so bright that they didn’t even need the small lights that lined the sidewalk.
“Careful of your white slacks,” Jordan said as Brie moved around the back of the studio. “And watch out for the tools. I always keep them very sharp.” Cutting tools were neatly laid out on the workbench.
Brie picked up blocks of half carvings, little animals and birds. “What are these?”
“Every year the local carvers have a booth at the downtown renaissance fair. I offer carvings of birds, little animals, whatever. The kids and I dress up. It’s fun.”
“I haven’t been there in years,” Brie said, turning a piece of wood in her hands. “Is this going to be a wren?”
“Yes. They sell quickly. Actually, they aren’t carvings. That’s called whittling.”
“Do you carve owls? Like Charlie?”
“Charlie?”
“You know, my only pet?”
“Oh. Last night. I’d forgotten. What did you say he was? A screech owl?”
Brie nodded and looked hopeful.
“Never tried, but I would for you,” Jordan said and turned, seeing Brie look at the sketches she had done of her. “Like those?”
“Is that me?”
“I do quick sketches of things that catch my eye.”
Brie turned to her, a quirky expression across her face. “I caught your eye?”
“Uh, your body…the way…” Jordan’s voice trailed off. Brie merely smiled and Jordan could feel herself blush. She had no idea how to explain what she had sketched, but Brie had turned to the big piece in the center of the studio. “That’s the piece I’ve been working on for a long time. Take a look, tell me what you see.”
Brie was quiet as she walked around the carving in the center, a piece about as tall as herself. “What kind of wood is this?”
“It’s Indian rosewood, heavy and hard. It’s also used for fine inlays and musical instruments. I was lucky to find it. Another carver had it and we paid a bundle for it.”
Brie nodded absently, bending in to see it better. “The purplish and green hues in the wood are unusual. It’s lovely, Jordan.” She moved to the front of the carving, squinting a bit.
“It’s a woman, wrapped in a blanket. A robe? Standing in the wind? She’s been around some trouble perhaps? Her face has so much character.” She turned and looked at Jordan, leaning against a shelf. “It’s very delicate. A little anger, or is that fear?”
“Both. Her wrap is blowing in the wind. See how one hand is just rising, as if to ward off a blow while the other clutches the cloth to her, close and tight for warmth and protection?” Jordan moved to the carving. The bottom was still untouched.
“It’s as if the figure is stepping out of the wood. Maybe you should have a single foot showing. Or did you think of that already?”
“No. I hadn’t.” Jordan concentrated and padded away, making an arc in front of the statue.
“Just an idea and…” Brie began but saw that Jordan was engrossed in the carving. Jordan straightened her body, and Brie saw it, the coil of energy hidden beneath a well-monitored calm. “Jordan, this is very good. You know that, don’t you? The face has so much emotion in it. Why aren’t you carving every chance you have? It’s so alive. Like you.”
“Alive?” she repeated and they stared at one another.
Brie blinked, looking at Jordan’s beautiful shoulders as something unspoken passed between them. The silence stretched until she said, “What were we talking about?” She felt a little dizzy.
“I don’t know,” Jordan said, equally bemused.
“Oh, the carving.” Brie was confused by what had just happened.
“I have a problem with carving,” Jordan said. “I haven’t been able to work on this since Pete died. It’s weird.”
“How did Pete feel about your carving?” Brie turned her back to Jordan, looking at the statue again. She couldn’t look at Jordan without staring.
“One hundred percent behind me. We both were so busy, and then, the kids. About the only thing we did away from the house was camp now and then.”
“We camped too,” Brie said. “Want to take the kids sometime?”
“They’re a lot of work, but that sounds good. We’d have to go soon, while the weather’s nice.”
“I know a perfect place for kids, safe and fun,” Brie said.
“Jenna would be easy, but Ty’s a handful.”
“Like you?” Brie teased, finally turning.
*
After Brie left, Jordan Googled “screech owl” and printed a photo from her computer. It looked like a quick piece of work. Her only pet. Charlie? If it took that sometimes-lost look off Brie’s face and made her smile, it was worth it. Lost? No, hurt, and it was still thrumming just below Brie’s surface, something Jordan was only too familiar with. She wondered if Brie was as angry as she had been.
Jordan cleaned the table and caught the moon framed in the window. It had tarnished Brie’s hair to silver tonight as they walked back from the studio. Those long legs in white slacks with the wine-colored blouse completed the image. If Niki had been the artist Brie had said she was, she would have watched Brie all the time. Every movement was unconsciously graceful…and sexy. Jordan unloaded the dishwasher, seeing Brie move in her mind. It had always intrigued her, those unplanned gestures and moves that some women had.
She hung the damp cloth on the sink to dry and remembered Brie’s body on hers last night. She had automatically pulled her close, but it had felt good. Face it, she just plain fascinates you. You haven’t felt this alive in years. When she said “alive” you knew it was true.
Chapter Ten
Brie pumped her fist in triumph as she left Mary’s office with her new glasses in hand. She’d managed to avoid seeing Mary. Still smiling over that, she arrived early for her appointment with Dr. Wolfe at Urgent Care.
“I can really see,” she exclaimed, looking over the paperwork he handed her.
“Just need more red blood cells, girl.” He smiled across the desk at her. “You’ve let yourself get run down.”
Brie scanned the test results, adjusting her glasses. “What do I do now? I finally have my appetite back.”
“I’m going to start you on some special multivitamins, for openers.”
“Is that all?”
“Set up an appointment with me for the first week of October to check the blood work. If it’s better, you’re off the hook. Your side looks better but I’m keeping you away from Omni for another w
eek. I’ve already called them so you don’t have to.” He set the papers aside. “How’s it going with the therapist?”
“I have an appointment with her tomorrow. I see her every week.”
“Are you having any anger issues?”
“That’s a therapist question.”
“I know it is, but I want to know. It’s important, Brie.”
“Maybe.” Brie stared into space. “My sister said something to me.”
“Which sister?”
“Emma.”
“She would,” he said and shook his head a little. “What did she say?”
“She asked me what I would have wanted, if Niki had lived and I had died. What I would have wanted Niki to do.”
“Whew,” Dr. Wolfe said.
“Usually I just go into a kind of white noise or cry myself to sleep,” Brie said and felt tears threaten but held them back. “Why can’t I remember? It’s crazy. I can remember the senator from Virginia in 1875, but everything after the dirt bike and the gunshots is a blank. All I remember is waking up in the hospital.”
“The hospital,” he repeated and Brie shivered, the memory still making her faintly nauseous. “I’m sure the therapist has said this to you. It’s trauma, the mind, protecting you. It may just suddenly hit you and all that memory will flood your mind. Then again, it may never come back.”
“She’s talked a lot about trauma and remembering,” Brie said. “But something’s better. You know I’ve only been pretending to be alive the last few years but, the other night, I took someone through our house for the first time since Niki died. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Something’s shifting. I found a new friend and she helps.”
“Friends are good. I’m simply saying, be on guard, Brie. A number of things can trigger a recall.”
She sighed. “I’d rather remember.”
“I would assume you wouldn’t try anything silly, like running?”
“Running? Not a chance until I can move easier. Ibuprofen is my closest friend.”
“All right, but take it easy. I don’t want to hear that you’re swimming across Lake Michigan, trying to set one of those crazy records.”
Collision Course Page 8