For a split second, she was tongue-tied. He sounded young, indeed. Then she steadied herself. “Uh, hi,” she said with what she hoped was a certain nonchalance. “This is GC403.” She kept her finger on the phone, ready to disconnect in an instant if this wasn’t her man. He was tall. She had expected a deeper voice.
But it was a nice voice. “Hi, GC403,” it said.
“Am I calling too late?”
“For me? No.” She heard a smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d call at all.”
His frankness was welcome. She relaxed a little. “Neither was I. I’m still not sure I should be.” Frankness deserved frankness. “It’s possible you have a serious hang-up.”
He laughed. “I don’t.”
“Then why did you answer my ad?”
“Because I was curious. I’ve dated women my own age. Now I want to try something different.”
“Ahh. The adventurer.”
“Isn’t that what you want?”
“In a fashion,” she said, though the age differential wasn’t what she had initially had in mind. “I know that you’re a rafter and a writer. Tell me more.”
“I grew up in Schenectady. My parents still live there.”
“Are you in love with your mother?”
He laughed again. “I’m the youngest of six. My mother was forty-one when I was born. That makes her a lot older than you are, nearly another generation. I love her, but she doesn’t give me the hots. So, no, I wouldn’t be thinking of her if you and I were to date.”
“Well, that’s good to know. How’d you train to be a writer?”
“I have a degree. Two, actually. BA and MA.”
“In journalism?”
“English. Journalism is what pays the bills while I write the great American novel.”
“I see. Then this—our conversation—any possible relationship—is research.”
“No. It’s life.”
Celeste’s phone clicked. “Hold on a second?”
“Sure.”
She flipped into call waiting. “Hello?”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Dawn.” Not who she wanted to hear from just then. “Good God, you’re calling late.”
“I just talked with Jill. She’s worried about her mom. Is Emily okay?”
“She’s fine. But I’m exhausted.” And otherwise occupied, sweetie.
“Jill was really upset. I was thinking it’d be cool if I went down to Boston to see her this weekend. Can I take the car?”
“No, you cannot. I need it. Besides, you’ll be seeing her next weekend.”
“But if I can help her now, isn’t that what friends are about? She’s always been there for me. It’s only right that I be there for her. Besides, there is nothing going on here this weekend.”
“No parties? I’d have thought the place would be hopping the weekend before fall break.”
Dawn made a disparaging sound. “Everyone’s studying for midterms.”
“Shouldn’t you?”
“I will. I’ll bring books with me.”
“You won’t get any decent studying done that way. No, Dawn. You can’t go.”
“But I told Jill—”
“We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
“Jill said—”
“I can’t stay on the phone now, Dawn.”
“But Mom—”
“Call me tomorrow. Good night.” She clicked back to the twenty-five-year-old. “Still there?” she asked, wondering if he had given up.
“Still here,” he said in his higher-than-expected voice. It struck her then, with the echo of Dawn’s eighteen-year-old voice in her ear, that he was probably more suited to her daughter than to her. The thought was discomfitting.
“I’m sorry,” she told him, suddenly needing a breather. “I have to pick up the other line. Can we talk more another time?”
“It’s your call,” he said with the kind of ease that suggested he didn’t care deeply one way or the other, and that annoyed her. She wanted a man of conviction, not a wimp. She wanted a man who wouldn’t leave, like Jackson had, without a fight. She wanted a strong man. That was adventure.
“Sure thing,” she said and hung up the phone. It was her call. She would send out her notes in the morning and phone the other two within the next few days. With any luck, by the time fall break was done and Dawn returned to school, her calendar would be filled with dates.
Emily was looking forward to fall break with both excitement and dread. She was dying to have Jill back home, but not quite sure how Doug would be. Oh, he would be fine toward Jill. She didn’t doubt that for a minute. But if he showed as much disinterest in Emily as he had been showing of late, Jill would notice. Emily didn’t want that.
Her solution, reached after much silent debate, was to keep the weekend moving steadily along with events planned before, preferably with Doug’s help, certainly with his approval. She intended to take care of that while he was home this weekend.
On Wednesday morning he called to say that he wanted to get ahead by working through the weekend, so he wouldn’t be home until Jill was.
Emily didn’t plead. She didn’t argue. She didn’t say a word in complaint, though one part of her wanted to ask what was wrong with her that he didn’t want to be with her. The other part was relieved. Weekends with Doug had become increasingly tense. Her stomach was always jangling, her heart thudding, her hopes and needs seesawing.
Okay. He would be home with Jill. This weekend was Emily’s.
She took a long, deep, relaxing breath. She wrote up a short piece that Rod wanted on the coffeehouse that was opening at the church, and drove it to the newspaper office, then went out to lunch with Alice Baker, who was the copyeditor for the Sun. Halfway through, they were joined by Alice’s sister, who worked at the library and insisted Emily return there to see several new books. By the time Emily was back home, most of the afternoon was gone.
Wandering into the yard, she climbed onto the rocks overlooking the pond, lay back, and basked in the sun. Its summertime heyday was done, its shaft lower and weaker, its pale light more precious. Come November, the mornings would be iced, the trees bare, the pond murky. Today, though, there was a lingering warmth enriching the scent of moist earth and crisp leaves.
As precarious as other things might be, her marriage most immediately, nature never changed. It was a comforting thought.
She lost track of time as she lay there. Her mind whisked over the pieces of her life without dwelling on a one, but, rather, focusing on the breeze that rose to kiss her face and finger her hair. She stretched and settled, and suddenly new thoughts entered her mind.
She was forty and in her prime. Her major responsibility was no longer a major responsibility. She had easily as many years ahead as behind. And she was female.
The last thought came from nowhere, startling her, but she didn’t chase it away. It wasn’t unpleasant, given her mood. She felt sensitized, as she lay supine on her rock in the slanting rays of the late-day sun.
She heard the Jeep pull into the driveway, heard a door slam, then Brian’s, “Hey, you! Where are you going? Come back here, you minx!”
Emily smiled at the sound of an explosive giggle and turned her head on the rock to see Julia barreling toward her, curls bobbing, arms waving. Brian caught her halfway and tossed her over his shoulder, prompting another round of giggles, before setting her down again. She hit the ground running, heading for the pond this time. Emily slid down the rock and headed her off.
“Oh, no, you don’t” Wrapping her arms around the child, she bent over her from behind. “That water is cold and wet and too deep for a monkey like you.”
“Laloo,” Julia said, pointing at the pond.
Emily glanced at Brian, who had come up from behind.
“Water,” he interpreted.
“Ahhh. Laloo. How did I miss that?” To Julia, she said, “Want to take a closer look?” She walked her to the water’s edge, picked up a pebble, and tossed it in. �
��Look. See the circles it makes?”
“Laloo,” Julia said.
Emily tossed another pebble, let Julia watch the ripples, then offered her a pebble. “Want to try?”
Julia closed her fist around the tiny stone, but when she raised her hand and tossed it toward the water, her timing was off. She didn’t open her fist until the toss was done. The pebble fell to the ground by her sneaker.
“Ooops,” Emily said and picked up another. “Here we go. Let’s try again.” It was two more tries before things clicked, and then Emily clapped Julia’s hands together. “That was a good one! Good for Julia!”
Julia took over the clapping, grinning triumphantly at Emily, then at Brian. Emily sat beside her and gave her a hug. “Incredible, how they need our approval,” she said to Brian. “Can you imagine a parent who doesn’t give it?”
He was hunkering down nearby. “I’ve seen them. Their kids try most everything to get their attention. When they can’t do it by fair means, they try foul, and even then the message doesn’t always get across. Some parents don’t want to hear.”
“So what happens?”
“The kids spend time in detention. They mix with other troubled kids and hear about bigger and better stuff, and before they know it, they’ve forgotten about their parents and are wanting the approval of their new friends. It’s a lousy cycle.”
“How do you break it?”
“Beats me. Boot camps aren’t the panacea some people hoped they’d be. You can give a kid a new self-image in a new environment, but put him back in the old environment, and the old self-image is back right along with the bad influences. So there’s your answer. You don’t put him back in the old environment. Unfortunately, in a democracy, you can’t tell him where to go once he’s done his time.”
“That must be frustrating for you.”
“Very. One of the biggest battles a cop fights is with his own cynicism. That’s why changes are good sometimes. Like my moving here. I miss the action, but I don’t miss the tension that goes with it. I’m sleeping better.”
“The apartment is comfortable?”
“It’s perfect.”
He smiled at her then, making her feel feminine indeed. “When’s Doug due back?”
Emily enunciated each word. “One week from tomorrow.”
“Not this weekend?”
“He wants to get ahead, to make up for next week.” When Brian looked disappointed for her, she said, “It’s okay. Makes things easier, in a way.” Feeling guilty and sorry and even, in that instant, angry at Doug, she took a quick breath. “I was thinking I’d do something special.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten past something special.”
“Julia and I are going exploring. We’re heading north, letting the road lead us where it will. Want to come?”
She liked the idea. She liked it a lot. “That sounds nice, but maybe you and Julia should be alone.”
“We’re alone every night. I think she’d like the change. I sure would.”
Emily went. They set off Saturday morning heading north, had lunch in Hanover, New Hampshire, and walked around the town, then headed east toward the lakes of south-central Maine. They stopped there to let Julia run over paths strewn with pine needles, and then, because she was sleeping soundly in the backseat, and because they couldn’t think of any good reason to turn back, they drove on. By nightfall, they reached the coast. They ate fresh boiled lobster in a rustic shack, with a fire going in the hearth to ward off the evening chill, and when the headlands were too tempting to miss at dawn, they took rooms at a nearby motel.
In her own room, nude under the covers, since she hadn’t packed for the night, Emily lay awake enjoying her body’s warm buzz. She hadn’t felt it in a very long time, wasn’t sure she had ever felt it before.
She didn’t analyze it deeply, simply, took it for the pleasure it gave, and the pleasure went on the next day, through breakfast, a morning walk on the beach, and the leisurely drive back home. She was feeling mellow when they passed the town limits and entered Grannick, and when they turned onto China Pond Road, she was wishing the day wouldn’t end.
Then she saw two cruisers in front of Myra’s house and her serenity took a jolt. She sat straighter. “Something’s wrong.”
Brian pulled into the driveway. Emily was out in a flash, running across the cul-de-sac and up to Myra’s front door. It was pulled open before she could do it herself.
“There you are!” Myra cried, looking shaky and pale. “I’ve been so frightened. First the lights didn’t go on in your house, and then they didn’t go on over the garage, and when the Jeep didn’t come back, I figured you’d gone somewhere with him. I kept waiting and watching, but when you didn’t come back today, I thought something terrible had happened.”
“I’m fine,” Emily assured her. Her eyes darted past those of three patrolmen to John’s.
But Myra wasn’t done. “It’s so unlike you to leave without a word. I thought for sure he had done something to you.”
“Brian?” Emily asked, puzzled. “He wouldn’t do anything to me.”
“Well, of course, Brian wouldn’t. I’m not talking about Brian.”
“Then who?” John asked.
Myra looked startled by the question. “Why, well, any man might have come, any man,” she stammered. “Doug might have come. He’s her husband. Husbands hurt their wives all the time.”
“I’m sorry,” Emily apologized softly to John. “We started driving yesterday and just kept going.”
John raised a hand that said she owed him neither apology nor explanation. He looked less forgiving when Brian came through the door, but before Emily could speak up in his defense, Myra said, “I didn’t mean to suggest that the detective had done anything wrong. Thank goodness, you’re all right,” she said to Brian, then to Emily, “I was so afraid. You are coming to my cookout on Wednesday night, aren’t you?”
“Of course,” Emily assured her. “I’m bringing the grill.”
“Ahhh,” Myra said with a great sigh of relief. She put her hands together and smiled. “That’s good. Very good. Maybe things will be all right after all.”
twelve
EMILY PREPARED EAGERLY FOR JILL’S HOME-coming. Since she didn’t have Doug’s input—he neither asked about her plans, nor offered any suggestions when she asked him—she decided to simply stock the kitchen with enough food to handle most any situation that might arise. She baked all of Jill’s favorites, packed the freezer with goodies, stocked the cupboards. Upstairs, she opened the windows and aired out Jill’s room, then dusted, item by item, careful to put each back exactly where it had been. She didn’t open a drawer or the closet. Those were sacrosanct for this little while more.
Tuesday night, bored and itchy, she repapered the upstairs bathroom with the wallpaper that Doug had liked.
Midday Wednesday found her looking for something to do, but Kay was working, Celeste was at the hair shop getting streaked, and Myra refused to let her bake for the cookout.
So, Emily set off on foot down the street to enjoy Grannick at its brilliant autumn best. The air was cool, the day clear. Between the sun, and her sweatshirt and leggings, she was pleasantly warm and calmer than usual, but only until she started thinking. Then, like shadows under the sun, the old questions returned.
Who am I? Where am I going?
She took her usual route into town, counting the Victorians on LaGrange until she forced herself to stop. But without counting, what? What to do? Who to be?
She stopped at the drugstore to chat with Mary Elizabeth, and at the bookstore to say hello to Connie Yeo. Since the day was so lovely, she walked on into Grannick’s college half, passing stores that the students frequented, heading for the college itself.
There was work to do here, even beyond Petra. If Emily was desperate, she could teach writing. She had been offered the job once, but had refused, preferring to work at her own pace, in her own time.
Troubled, she turned around at the stone pillars that marked the college’s entrance and headed back along the less scenic route, past the auto body shop, the plumbing parts store, and the bus station. As she approached the last, a large bus pulled up and opened its doors to a cluster of back-packed students waiting at the curb. As they climbed aboard, Emily swore she saw Dawn.
She raised a hand to wave, but the girl was already inside. The bus closed its door, shifted into gear with a groan and a noxious expulsion from its tail, and pulled away from the curb. Emily was wondering if it had truly been Dawn, when a horn sounded. Looking around, she saw Brian’s Jeep. She broke into an easy smile, went to the lowering passenger’s window, and set her elbows on the rim.
“Are you lost?” he asked, smiling back at her.
The eyes, ahhhh, the eyes. They cleared the mind of all else. “Nope. Just walking. It’s a nice day. Hey, neat tie.” It was covered with little pink pigs.
“I thought it made a statement.”
“Definitely. Are you on patrol?”
“Vaguely.” He reached across and opened the passenger’s door.
“Is this allowed?”
“If I say it is.”
Unable to argue with such sound logic, she slid in. Being with Brian was as uplifting as any fine autumn afternoon.
“I’m getting to know streets and faces,” he said, starting off. “See those old guys?” There were three, sitting under a worn awning in front of a cement box of a building. “They’re always there. Nine in the morning, noon, three—rain or shine—weekday, weekend. That’s their life, watching the street.” He waved as he cruised by. They waved back. “They know my car now. That’s good. Guys like that come in handy. They see everything.”
Emily gave the men a token glance before returning to Brian. He was a study in contrasts—New York—knowing, Grannick-feeling; cop-tough, daddy-soft; hard of body, gentle of voice. In his jeans, shirt and tie, and jacket, he was easy on the eye. And then there was his scent. The car held it. It was clean and male.
Together Alone Page 19