by Casey Dawes
Call Fred.
Tomorrow would be soon enough.
• • •
Annie shook coffee beans into the grinder and whirled them into submission. Too bad her problems couldn’t be ground into tiny bits as easily. While her coffee brewed, Annie’s thoughts scattered. Maybe I should repaint before I put the house on the market.
I could put David in a boarding school while I’m in New Jersey. A military boarding school.
Should I go out with John?
I need to clear out the garage.
She shook the untidiness from her mind and dug her original “to do” list out of her handbag.
✓ Tell David
Tell Fred
~ Find out details from Randy NJ Director Jim Borzetti
Connect with new boss in New Jersey
Start transfer process
Call realtor
Contact corporate housing for help to find an apartment in New Jersey
Hold a garage sale
Pack
Move
Pay parking ticket
Hopefully, she’d hear from Jim today. She could call him to make sure he received her e-mail, but that might make her seem desperate.
Who was she kidding? She was desperate.
She looked at the clock and listened for the shower. No noise. She padded down the stairs and rapped on David’s door.
“Get up. You’re going to be late for school.”
“Stop nagging, Mom. I’m on it.”
“Just do it,” Annie said and stomped upstairs. She hadn’t slept well last night, images from every prison movie she’d ever seen haunting her. What would David get as a first offense? Realistically, he’d probably get community service.
The coffee pot gurgled as she pulled two cereal bowls and a box of cereal from the cupboard and a carton of milk from the refrigerator. Would David have a record? Weren’t juvenile records sealed? Too many questions. She needed to call the public defender.
Grabbing a cup of coffee, she added Number 12 to the list: Call public defender. Her eyes traveled back up to the second item: Call Fred.
Ugh.
She looked at the clock again. Good. He was already at work so she could put that off until later. Everything else, except Numbers 11 and 12, needed to wait until she heard from Jim. She’d call the lawyer later.
Although if she was going to have a garage sale, she’d better clean the garage. Carefully, she added Number 13, “Clean garage.”
A mockingbird jabbered on a tree outside her window. Maybe she’d have time to take a walk today, enjoy nature. A horseback ride might be even better. She flipped her list to the blank side, drew a line down the middle of the paper and wrote PROS on one side of the line and CONS on the other.
Under PROS she wrote: get exercise, admire a good-looking man, have fun.
Under CONS: don’t want to lead him on, might not like him if I get to know him.
The fantasy was always better than reality, wasn’t it?
On the other hand, John would be someone to discuss David’s problem with. She added that to the PROS side.
She took a sip of coffee and stared at the chart, knowing she wasn’t being entirely honest with herself because she’d left off the biggest CON of all.
She was afraid.
The downstairs shower went on. David was up — good. Time to get moving. She’d get him off to school, and start to work on the presentation for the project wrap-up.
Four hours later she was tired of trying to get graphs, statistics, and bullet points to behave. Her son was easier to control. And she still hadn’t gotten a return e-mail from New Jersey.
She needed a break.
You could clean the garage, the puritanical voice from her chorus said.
Leave one ugly chore for another? No thanks.
Bread. She’d bake bread. Rye bread would be perfect — sticky and difficult to work with — like the rest of her life. The pungent combination of yeast and caraway seeds would clear her head.
She looked in the freezer for her stash of rarely used flour. Packages of whole wheat, spelt and kamut stared back at her. No rye. The spice drawer revealed a lack of caraway seeds. A dilemma.
Five minutes later she was speeding north on Highway 1 toward Grenaldi’s Market. She flicked on the classical station and thought of the curried chicken salad she planned to buy for lunch. Traffic was light, the sun was shining, and the tension left her body.
As soon as she walked through the old-fashioned market door, the distinctive scent hit her. Chain groceries smelled sterile. Here, ripening fruit and yeasty flour tantalized her nose. Sweet and spicy odors wafted from the other end of the store from the deli and bakery sections.
She filled plastic bags with rye flour and caraway seeds and strolled toward the deli counter, her mouth watering in anticipation of sharp curry and succulent raisins. When she was close she recognized the tall figure placing an order.
John.
Drat! She wasn’t ready to give him an answer. She considered going somewhere else.
As if sensing her presence, John turned and smiled. “You look nice today, ma’am.”
Liar. I look terrible and you know it. “Could you stop calling me that?”
“Ma’am?”
“Yes. It makes me feel older than dirt.”
His grin deepened. “You don’t look old.” A shiver went up Annie’s spine as John studied her. “Nope, not old at all. Not a day over twenty-five. I was thinking about a picnic. Care to join me?”
Annie moved to the counter to order her chicken curry salad, her lips turning up at the corners. Twenty-five. It was nice to have a good-looking man take a decade off her age. But she was curious. “Why did you come all this way for lunch? Zanotto’s is a few blocks from the bookstore.”
“I was in the mood for a thick roast beef sandwich today and asked my store manager for the best place to get it. She said Zanotto’s was good, but nothing could beat Grenaldi’s.” He stepped closer and leaned down to talk with her. “Actually, I think she wanted me out of the store for a while. She hates the boss hovering. How about you?”
She flicked him a glance. “I hate the boss hovering, too.”
He grinned. “Difficult when the boss likes hovering.”
“But you’re not my boss.”
“I could be.”
“I already have a job, thank you.” She frowned. Actually, she didn’t.
A clerk handed him his paper-wrapped sandwich while a second clerk handed her a filled plastic container, a fork, and napkin.
“Your lunch?”
She nodded.
“Perfect. Let’s eat together. There’s a picnic table nearby.”
“But … ”
“Annie, you need to eat lunch. I don’t bite. Promise.”
She looked at his warm smile and her heart broke its steady rhythm. It was only lunch. “Okay.”
His grin widened.
Chapter 6
Annie and John crossed the side street to a small green park where daffodils’ cheerful heads gathered at the edges of flowerbeds. Finches and starlings chattered about the best branch for nesting.
Settled on opposite sides of a picnic table, they unwrapped their lunches.
He took a large bite from his sandwich, slowly chewed, swallowed and sighed. “That is truly a wonderful roast beef sandwich.”
Her eyes on his, she took a forkful of her salad, savoring the splurge of creaminess, the curry’s nip and the sweet bit of raisin.
“You’ve got some sauce on your lips,” he said.
She licked the corner of her mouth. “Did I get it?”
“I can’t stand it when you do that.”
“What?”
>
“That licking thing you do. You were driving me nuts the other night with that damn salad dressing.”
“Like this?” She slowly licked her lips again.
He groaned.
A sizzle of sexiness made her shiver.
“Cold?”
She shook her head. What was she doing? Heat raced up and down her limbs, responding to his flirting. What was it about this man?
You’re leading him on, the nagging chorus member intoned.
She leaned back and picked up her fork. “Where did you grow up in Montana? What was it like?”
“Like nowhere else in the world.” John looked over her shoulder, as if envisioning Montana in the eucalyptus trees behind her. “They call it ‘Big Sky Country’ and it feels like the sky really does go on forever. I grew up in Choteau, a small town on the Rocky Mountain Front. The plains butt right up against the mountains — golden brown wheat colliding with icy gray granite.”
“Sounds like you miss it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“How could you leave it if you loved it so much?”
He shrugged. “It was time to make a change. I was stuck living a life that I no longer had.”
“Will you ever go back?”
He looked at her intently. “It depends.”
“On?”
“On how my life turns out here. If I meet someone and fall in love, and her life is here, I’d stay here. Eventually, I hope, we’d get a small cabin in the Bitterroot Valley and spend our summers and retirement there.”
“You’ve got it all mapped out.”
He focused his eyes on hers. “All except the girl.”
Her body went into overdrive again. “I hope you find someone.”
He put down his sandwich, propped his chin on his folded hands and stared at her. He was making her nervous. “What about you? How did you wind up in California? Or were you born here?”
“I was born in Michigan — Ann Arbor.”
“And … ”
“And I decided to come to UC Santa Cruz.”
“Instead of the University of Michigan?”
“Yeah, seems crazy, doesn’t it? But I wanted to leave Michigan … ”
“Let me guess, there was a man.”
She took another bite of salad and chewed. After she swallowed, she said, “Yeah, there was a man … Fred. His name was … is Fred. He was accepted in the philosophy program at UC Santa Cruz. I saw it as a chance to get out of Michigan.” And away from horrible memories.
“So you followed him here.”
Annie nodded. “We moved in together and I applied to the university in the music program. I had to drop out when I got pregnant.”
“Must have been tough.”
“We married, but it didn’t work. We divorced about five years ago.”
“So you’ve been on your own for a while. Fred giving you any support?”
She shook her head.
He put down his sandwich. “Why not?”
“He does the best he can. He doesn’t have a good job, barely makes enough for himself.”
“Maybe he should get a better job.”
Her temper flared. “We’ve worked it out. It’s okay and David is doing fine.”
Or he was until last night.
John raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry. I overstepped my bounds. I guess I’ve seen too many single mothers struggle while fathers move on with their lovers.”
“It’s not like that.”
“I’m sure it’s not.” The tone of his voice said otherwise.
They chewed in silence.
“Tell me more about David,” he finally said.
She took a deep breath. “He’s fifteen, a good student, and a goalie on two soccer teams.”
“Two?”
“He plays in a rec league in the spring and on the high school varsity team in the fall.”
“Sounds like you’re doing a good job, Mom.”
She shook her head. “I thought I was, but … ” There was no good way to say it. “He was arrested last night.”
“I’m sorry. What happened?”
She told him about her trip to the police department.
“Any idea why he’s acting out?”
“I’m not sure. But it’s probably because of the move.”
John leaned back and looked at the picnic table, as if there were answers in the bug-eaten wood. “That might be. What are you going to do?”
“Keep a close eye on him until we move. Getting him out of Santa Cruz is probably the best thing I can do for him.”
“There are bad kids everywhere.” He took another bite of his sandwich. Silence lingered for a few moments. “I’m probably going to overstep my bounds again, but I’m not sure taking him away is the best thing. Teenagers have a tough time as it is.” He stared at the table again and then looked up at her, his sharp blue eyes focused on hers. “My dad died when I was in high school — heart attack. I tried to take his place on the ranch and go to high school at the same time. When I did get time for myself, which didn’t happen often, I did wild things to let off steam.”
She leaned forward, looking at him intently. “What happened?”
“Fast girls and fast cars. We all must have been crazy back then. One night the driver of the car I was in lost control. He and a girl were killed. I was the only one wearing my seat belt, so I survived. They had to pry the wreck apart to get me out, but amazingly enough, all I had were a few scratches.” His eyes watered. “But my friends were gone.” He took a swallow of his drink and stared at the table.
“I’m sorry.” She put her hand on his arm. “You’ve had a lot of death in your life.”
He nodded. “Straightened me right out. I had a second chance at life and I took it.” He put his hand on top of hers and her fingers warmed at his touch. “My point is that teenagers do crazy things when they feel their world is falling apart. Have you considered taking David to a counselor?”
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
“It might be helpful — and good for you, too.”
She shook her head. She was done with shrinks. “Thanks, I’ll think about it for David.” She reluctantly pulled her hand away and glanced at her watch. “I need to get to Santa Cruz, pay a parking ticket and get back to work. Thanks for the company. I enjoyed it.”
John stood. “I need to get back, too.” He picked up his empty wrapper. “Have you had a chance to think about a horseback ride?”
She snapped the lid closed on the empty salad container. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I really am moving in a month.” If everything goes right.
He looked at her steadily. “Somehow I don’t think that’s the real reason, Annie. What are you so afraid of?”
“Nothing,” she said automatically. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” She scanned the table for crumbs.
He shrugged. “If you change your mind, I’d like to see you. You know how to find me. Well, so long.” He took her hand in a strong grip, quickly released it, and walked away.
Her eyes teared up, blurring her vision as she stared after him.
• • •
Thwack! Annie threw the dough on the board, causing it to skid across the countertop. She poked the lump on the breadboard with gluey fingertips, testing for consistency. In order to rise correctly, it had to be balanced between too sticky and too dry. It would be nice if you could knead your life into shape as easily as dough.
Baking bread had been the only activity Annie had been able to do in peace with her mother. They’d worked in silence interrupted only by the slap of dough on the counter.
She focused on the taffy texture and yeasty odor of the bread. Push. Pull. Heels of her
hands coaxing the gluten to form. Shaping the bread. Shaping her life.
Stand up straight. Bring home a good report card. Don’t be too smart or boys won’t like you. Don’t like boys too much. Her mother’s litany played in her mind in rhythm with her work. Other words crept in. Don’t talk back to your father. Good girls are seen but not heard. Don’t upset your father. Your father isn’t well. Hide in here when Daddy gets mad.
Annie pushed thoughts of her parents back into their assigned compartments in her head. No use in thinking about the past, she had enough to do. Her mind drifted as she fell into the cadence of the bread.
She spent the next few hours alternating between working on the presentation and reshaping bread between rises. After she put the loaf in the oven, she checked the kitchen clock. Fred should be done with his shift as an orderly at the nursing home. She picked up the phone and dialed his number.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“David’s in trouble.”
“Did he break an arm or something? Where is he? I’ll be right over.”
She took a deep breath. “Legal trouble. They caught him shoplifting at L and L Drug Store.”
“David? You’ve got to be kidding. Is this some kind of sick joke?”
“I wish it were. They’ve got him on tape.”
“Why did he do such a stupid thing?”
“I don’t know. He’s not talking to me. At least he’s not saying anything that makes sense.”
“Anything happen to upset him? He’s always been so damned sensitive — like you.”
She bristled. Everything was always her fault in Fred’s eyes. “Well … ”
“What, Annie? What’s going on that you aren’t telling me?”
“I’ve been offered a job in New Jersey and I’m going to take it.” The words came out in a rush.
“Why the hell are you going to do that?”
“It’s either take the job in New Jersey or become unemployed. They’re doing layoffs.”
“So find another job. You’re a bright girl.”
She stiffened, but bit her tongue. There was no point. “It’s probably only for a couple of years. If I leave JCN now, I’ll lose years toward my pension and health benefits. I can’t afford to do that.”