Disguised Blessing

by Georgia Bockoven

  This couldn’t go on. She had to find a job. Soon. Or sell some stock. Or cut back on some of the extras, like the housekeeper who came in three times a week and the twice-a-week gardener. Then there was the pool service. How hard could it be to test the water and add chemicals herself? She’d watched the guy when he thought no one was home and he’d been there less than ten minutes. Two hundred dollars a month for ten minutes a week? If she could find a job like that, she wouldn’t have to worry about paying her bills.

  She’d drop the country club if it weren’t for Tom. He was desperate to be a member and she’d be damned if she’d give him the opening to buy in. At her lowest point—when he’d been gone for two and a half weeks, when Lynda had slipped into another depression, when her brother had taken off for Japan for another six months, when Jack had informed her his business was in a slump and that he might have to take her to court to lower her alimony payments, when she’d pulled a pair of slacks from the closet that she couldn’t get zipped—she’d seriously wondered whether Tom had asked her to marry him because he wanted her or her membership in the country club.

  She’d recovered nicely when the cleaners called and told her they’d made a mistake and had given her someone else’s pants. Someone who was obviously far too skinny for her height, Catherine decided.

  “I’m home,” Lynda called from the front door. “Where are you?”

  Catherine almost wept at the upbeat tone she heard in her daughter’s voice. “Thank you, Rick,” she said softly as she pushed back her chair.

  “I’m in here,” Catherine called in reply.

  “Where’s here?”

  “My office. But hold on, I’m coming out.” She didn’t want Lynda to see the stack of bills sitting on the desk.

  Lynda was at the refrigerator looking for something to eat when Catherine found her. “Where’s Rick? Didn’t you invite him in?”

  “He’s doing something with some cupboards and had to get back. But he said to tell you he’d try to stop by next week. I invited him to dinner so he’d have to come.”

  The idea startled Catherine. She’d never even considered asking Rick to dinner. “And he said?”

  “That we didn’t need to feed him to get him here. But I told him you loved playing Martha Stewart.”

  She groaned. “You didn’t.” She wasn’t sure how she wanted Rick to see her, but that wasn’t it.

  “Maybe not in those exact words, but whatever it was worked. You’re supposed to call and tell him it’s okay and when he should come.”

  “Lynda…” Catherine knew no matter how she phrased it, what she was about to say would make her sound like a snob. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to encourage Rick to see us on a social level.”

  Not finding anything to her liking in the refrigerator, Lynda opened the freezer. “Why not?”

  “It could put him in a difficult situation with the association. As much as you feel he’s your friend—and I like that you do—”

  “He’s your friend, too, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” she said equivocally.

  “Then I don’t see the problem.”

  Catherine could stand there and argue or enjoy her daughter’s remarkable mood. She decided to put off the discussion until later. “I take it you had a good time today?”

  “The best. I met a terrific woman. You’d love her, Mom. She’s Rick’s neighbor. Who, by the way, thinks he’s the most fantastic guy in the whole world—other than her husband, of course.” She spotted ice cream.

  “Yum—my favorite. You must have gone shopping while I was gone.” She turned to Catherine. “Want some?”

  Catherine thought about the scare she’d had with the pants not fitting and knew it was only a matter of time and birthdays until it happened for real. But that was in the future. This moment with Lynda was real and it was now. “Sure, why not?”

  Lynda opened the refrigerator again. “We have any chocolate sauce?”

  “On the door.”

  Lynda picked it up and looked at the label. “Is this that stuff Tom bought with the rum in it?”

  “I threw that out already.”

  “Good job, Mom. Now if you could just get him to pick up his things in the garage.” She handed two bowls to Catherine before she put the chocolate in the microwave.

  “I left a message on his machine telling him he had one more week and then I was making a very nice charitable contribution in his name.”

  Lynda smiled. “Let me do it. Please.”

  “Be my guest. But he still has a couple of days.”

  “That’s so like you, Mom. Worried about being fair to a guy who treated you like shit.”

  “Watch your—”

  “—language,” Lynda finished for her.

  “Forget Tom. Tell me about this woman Rick had you meet.”

  Lynda poured the chocolate sauce over the ice cream, licked a drop from her finger, and dug two spoons out of the drawer. “Her name’s Sandra. She’s old—older than you, but she doesn’t act old. You know what I mean?”

  “Like Aunt Eva.”

  “Yeah, exactly.” She rotated her shoulders and leaned her back against the refrigerator, seeking relief from the constant itching.

  “When did you last take your medicine?”

  “I’m due, but I want to tell you about Sandra first.” She picked up her bowl and started eating with her back pressed tightly against the stainless steel. “She’s so cool, Mom. You’re not going to believe what she showed me how to do. I actually had a wild bird eating sunflower seeds out of my hand. Sandra feeds them that way all the time. They just come to her.”

  “What kind of birds?”

  “House finches. But that’s not all. Wait till you hear this—she puts tubes in her hair that have red stoppers on the ends and sugar water inside and hummingbirds actually come to drink out of them.”

  “This is what you were doing all afternoon?”

  “That and talking. I helped her clean the feeders—she has dozens of them. She said the sugar water for the hummingbirds has to be changed every day in the summer or it gets a bacteria that can kill them. Did you know that?”

  “No,” Catherine admitted. “I just thought you refilled the feeders when they were empty.”

  “I’m going to put one up outside my window. They have ones that stick to the glass so you can watch the birds up close. And I thought we could get a couple of regular bird feeders for the yard.”

  For the first time since Lynda was burned, Catherine saw a glimpse of the happy, carefree girl she had once been. Her chest tightened with joy to know that girl was still inside the emotionally bruised young woman.

  Finishing her ice cream, Lynda put the bowl in the sink. “I’m going upstairs.”

  “It’s early. Why don’t we rent a movie?” Catherine said, not wanting the moment to end. “Better yet, how about a game? It’s been a long time since I let you beat me at Scrabble.”

  “Ha. I could wear a blindfold and still beat you. You’re a terrible Scrabble player, Mom.”

  “Then what about Monopoly?” Lynda had come too far that day for her to end it alone in her room.

  “Maybe—after I call Wendy and Brian.”

  Catherine sent Rick a mental hug of gratitude. He’d accomplished something she’d worried might be impossible. It would be so easy to say the wrong thing to Lynda, so Catherine didn’t say anything and simply nodded.

  Lynda smiled. “Surprised you, didn’t I?”

  “That doesn’t begin to describe it.”

  “If Daddy comes while I’m on the phone, do you think you could tell him I’m busy without hurting his feelings?”

  “I could try.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Catherine made a dismissing motion with her hand. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

  Lynda headed for the stairs, remembered she was due for her pills, and went back for them. She didn’t want anything to interrupt her phone calls, and the itching was getting bad again.
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br />   Alone in her room, she propped pillows against the headboard and settled on the bed, the portable phone on her lap. She’d tried to rehearse what she would say but couldn’t come up with anything past the fact that she was sorry. With Wendy she knew what to expect. She’d be mad, but she’d listen. And she’d forgive. Eventually.

  Lynda wasn’t so sure about Brian. She’d given him enough time to figure out he was better off without her and all of her problems.

  Needing to talk about Brian before she talked to him, she decided to call Wendy first.

  Wendy’s mom answered on the second ring.

  “Hi, this is Lynda. Is Wendy home?”

  “Lynda—how are you? I’ve wanted to come by to see you and your mother but Wendy said you weren’t up to seeing anyone yet.”

  “I’m feeling better now.” Obviously Wendy hadn’t told her mom what really happened. “You can come over any time you want. Just don’t bring food. For some reason the neighbors keep bringing things to eat and there’s no more room in the refrigerator.”

  “I’ll try to stop by tomorrow. Wendy will be sorry she missed your call.”

  “She’s not there?” Lynda should have known. It was Saturday, and Wendy was never home on Friday or Saturday night.

  “She went to the lake with a couple of friends. I don’t expect her until late tonight. But I’ll tell her you called.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You take care of yourself now.”

  “I will.” Lynda hit the Talk button to hang up. She had her finger poised to dial Brian’s number but held back. What if he didn’t say anything after she said she was sorry? Should she tell him how much she loved his present? Or that she’d listened to the Kate Wolf CD over and over again since the party and that he’d been right, she loved the music and songs as much as he had told her she would? Would he even care anymore?

  Realizing she was about to talk herself out of calling him, Lynda dialed the number and held her breath as she listened to it ring.

  A woman with a German accent answered.

  “May I speak to Brian?” Lynda asked in a rush.

  “I’m sorry. He’s not here.”

  This was the first time that she’d called him and he hadn’t been the one to answer. “I’m a friend of his, Lynda Miller. Can you tell me when he’ll be back?”

  “Oh, Miss Miller. I know who you are. Are you feeling better now?” She spoke in short, carefully enunciated sentences.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

  “Mr. Winslow left for the lake early this morning. The whole family is there. He took a friend with him. I thought maybe you were his friend.”

  “The lake?” she repeated numbly, her heart in her throat.

  “Yes. But he said he would be back tonight. Would you like me to have him call you then?”

  “Yes—no, I’ll call him. Tomorrow.” She wouldn’t, but she had to say something.

  “He says such nice things about you. All the time he says these things. You must be a very nice girl. I’m so happy for you that you are not in the hospital anymore.”

  “Thank you.” Lynda said good-bye, dropped the phone on the bed, and covered her face with her hands.

  She’d lost them both and it was all her fault. She’d convinced herself what she’d heard at the party about Brian and Wendy wasn’t true. At least not then. But now it was.

  She didn’t know how to be a friend anymore. Not to anyone. Not even Ray. She’d skipped going to see him the last time she was at the hospital because she was afraid he would ask about Brian again and she was fresh out of lies for why he never came with her anymore. All she wanted to do was get home and hide in her room. At least she had a home. He didn’t have anything or anyone.

  No wonder Brian didn’t like her anymore. She was selfish and self-centered and ugly. Her whole back and her arms looked sickening to her. She could just imagine what it would look like to him. She was bald and had to wear stupid hats. What guy in his right mind would want to have anything to do with her?

  She understood now what it felt like to have a broken heart and why it was called that. She really did feel as if her heart had broken, or if not broken, been crushed. It even hurt when she tried to breathe.

  And it was all her fault. Just like being burned was her fault. If only she hadn’t run.

  How could Brian have kissed her the way he had at the hospital? That was the worst part. He’d given her hope, made her feel good about herself. She was so pathetic. All it took was a kiss and she’d believed in miracles. She’d even let herself believe he’d kiss her again when they were alone that night, that he wanted to kiss her again.

  She sat on her bed, unmoving, for over an hour. The sky turned pink and then orange, casting colored light into the room, making it seem warm. But all she could feel was a cold inside her heart that left it empty and her soul devastated.

  Her mother came to the door to ask her about dinner. Lynda told her that she was still on the phone and would get something to eat later when she was hungry. The shadows lengthened, the room grew dark.

  Catherine came to say good night at eleven. Lynda told her she’d already been asleep.

  At ten minutes after eleven the phone rang. It was Wendy.

  “I just got home,” she said, her tone cool, reserved. “Mom told me you called.”

  “It wasn’t anything important.” She didn’t know how to sound normal or even casual anymore. “You could have waited until tomorrow.”

  “She tell you I was at the lake?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was nice. Hot as hell, though.”

  Wendy was trying. Lynda had to give her that. “Then you freeze when the sun goes down.” Which is why you put on a sweater and how you get burned.

  “Not tonight. Even the ice in the ice chest melted. Shawn had to go all the way into Folsom to get more.”

  “Folsom?” That didn’t make sense.

  “The store at the lake was out.”

  “You were at Folsom Lake today?”

  “Of course. Where else?”

  “I thought you were at Rainbow with Brian.”

  “Why would…oh, my God. Is that why you’ve been acting like such a jerk? You thought I was after Brian?”

  It was useless to deny it. “I overheard something at the party—”

  “Something I said?”

  “No.

  “Who then?”

  Lynda could actually feel Wendy’s anger. “I don’t know. I was outside and they were on the deck. I couldn’t see who it was.”

  “Why didn’t you say something to me? Wait a minute. As I recall, you did say something. You told me to go away, that you never wanted to see me again.”

  “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

  “You should be. Damn it, Lynda, I’m so mad at you I could spit.”

  “If you think it would help, go ahead.”

  “Don’t try to make me laugh. I want to stay mad at you. At least for a while. You deserve it.”

  “How long?” Wendy would stretch it out until she was spent, but the worst was over. They would talk about what had happened for days to come, examine every mistake and misunderstanding until it was laid open like a frog in biology class, and then they would go on, best friends again.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”

  “So, what do you think about Brian?”

  “I like him. And I’m jealous as hell. Everyone is. Especially Lisa. He’s all she can talk about. Wait until I tell you what happened today when she—”

  Lynda settled against the pillows, using one to prop up her telephone arm. She had a feeling it was going to be a long conversation.

  She listened to Wendy’s story about Lisa’s top coming off when David tried to teach her to ski barefoot. She smiled. She might not have her life back where she wanted it, but she had this, and for now, for this moment, she was happy again.

  20

  CATHERINE ANSWERED THE DOOR WITH A HEART-felt s
mile, thinking it was Brian. Tom responded with a huge smile of his own.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, her good mood shattered.

  “After that message you left on my machine I thought I’d better pick up the rest of my things before you gave them away to that fireman. He was the charity you were talking about, wasn’t he?”

  “Trust me, there’s nothing you have that Rick would want.”

  “Not even you?”

  The problem with glass doors was that you couldn’t slam them for effect. “First of all, I’m not yours. I never was. Had I known you thought of me as a possession, I would have had sense enough to get out before I did.”

  “Indulging in a little revisionist history, aren’t you? As I recall, you weren’t the one who wanted out.”

  “What did I ever see in you?”

  He held open his arms. “I would assume it was the same thing Adriana Petersen sees in me now.”

  Catherine leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms. She knew Adriana socially, and had never had any desire to have it go beyond that. “So you’ve already found a replacement?”

  He smiled seductively. “One with a bigger house and in a better location.”

  “And membership in the club. I’m sure you took that into consideration when you went looking. She must not have mentioned that her husband has asked for the membership in the divorce settlement.” Catherine had no idea if that was true, but the look on his face was worth whatever she’d have to pay for the lie.

  “She didn’t tell me,” he stammered. Quickly recovering, he added, “But nothing’s been finalized. There’s still time for her to negotiate and Adriana is the kind of woman who will do whatever it takes to please her man.”

  “But what a nuisance. How much better it would be if you started interviewing your women a little more carefully before you committed.”

  “How’s Lynda?” he asked, dismissing her sarcasm with a change of subject.

  “Fine,” she said cryptically. And then decided he needed to hear more. “Actually, she’s fantastic. Better than anyone expected.”