by Nancy Warren
She had her back to him and he wasn’t sure whether to duck in case she chucked it at his head or whether he’d get some sarcastic crack out of her. Instead, while he watched, she traced the words with her index finger. And he felt a surge of feeling rise and fall so fast he felt like a surfer who miscalculates and gets dumped on his head.
She made the coffee and to his surprise and secret delight, she poured her own brew into the garish red mug.
By the time Wednesday arrived, Evan was seriously thinking of changing his voice mail on his cell phone to something like, “Unless you are the owner of the lost dog on the poster, do not waste my time.” He’d been offered a deal on a gym membership, invited to a free weekend in order to listen to the spiel for a time share, and innumerable people had tried to sell him various services.
However, when the phone rang Wednesday morning he saw that it was Merv’s garage calling.
Soon he’d be on his way. “Evan Chance,” he said into the phone.
“Good Morning, it’s Merv here. Your part’s in. Should take a couple of hours to install. You can pick the bike up this afternoon.”
“Great. Thanks. I’ll be there.”
Well, that was great. He’d been held up long enough in Miller’s Pond. By tonight or tomorrow morning at the latest he’d be back on the road.
He couldn’t understand the sudden lurch in his gut. He was road tripping. He was Jack Kerouac on the road again. He was that rolling stone gathering no moss. So why was it, the first time he’d stopped for more than a day he’d picked up clumps of moss? Massive moss boulders that slowed the wheels and clogged the path?
Moss boulders of the canine and the human kind.
He shook his head at his own foolishness.
It was good that the bike was going to be ready today. He’d take the dog to the shelter. If no one had contacted him yet about that dog he had to accept it had no home. A shelter would find him one. He ignored a pang of guilt. Who would adopt such an ugly mutt?
And he’d make a last date with Caitlyn. He rubbed his belly absently, where a dull ache had begun. She’d gone into this with her eyes open, as had he. They were having a short fling, no strings attached. Nobody was going to cry or feel hurt that it was over. It wasn’t like they’d fallen in love or some such foolishness. This was about two people thrown together enjoying each other’s company and bodies for a few days.
That’s all.
But they’d spent pretty much every spare moment she had together. If they weren’t having sex, they were walking the stray dog or he was being put to work on some handyman chore around her house. Growing up on a semi-commune with eleven kids and not a ton of money, Evan was plenty handy. Not by choice.
He discovered that she took her job pretty seriously. Charlotte called having self-diagnosed her latest pregnancy disaster off the internet. And Caitlyn calmed her down. Then she talked to Mrs. Newsom whose husband had had the heart attack during his and Caitlyn’s first date. That was what, five days ago? Seemed like another life. She was worried about her husband. He seemed depressed and lethargic. Caitlyn didn’t tell her everything was going to be fine, which he respected. Instead, she said, “He’s had a big shock and his body’s had a big shock. And, so have you.” She listened for a bit and said, “I know you don’t want to lose him. We’re going to do everything we can to keep him around as long as we can.”
But she didn’t promise any miracles.
“How long do you think he’s got?” he asked when she got off the phone.
“He’s got congestive heart failure. But you can never tell. People who have a strong will to live and something or someone to live for tend to do better. But I doubt he’s got more than a year or two.”
He thought suddenly of his own folks. They’d been together nearly forty years. He couldn’t imagine one going on without the other. Hoped to hell they both stayed healthy for a good long time.
And now it was time to saddle up and head back on the road.
First he needed to say good bye to a girl.
Miller’s Pond didn’t have a florist. They sold sad-looking bouquets in the grocery. But there was a nursery just out of town with a good selection of plants that would be a lot more practical than cut flowers anyway. He bought her a rose tree. The color was neither yellow nor pink but a streaky combination of the two that he thought she’d like.
He called her from the nursery. And before he could say much, she laughed and said, “I can’t spend every night with you, you know. I’ve got my book club tonight.”
“Oh. Right.” He held the stupid tree in his hand, pushing the dog away so he couldn’t get close enough to pee on it, and wondered how he was going to say good-bye. “I got a call from Merv. The part’s in for my bike. I can pick it up today.”
“Oh.” That’s all she said. “Oh.” And he wanted to run over to her place and pull her into his arms and then he’d still have to say good bye at the end of it.
“I want to see you before I go.”
“Yes. I’d like to see you.” She sounded all business now. Like he was a patient who needed his stitches out or something.
“Could I come by after your book club?”
The pause was longer than was comfortable. He thought she might refuse. Then she said, “Sure. Okay. I should be home by ten.”
“I’ll see you then.”
Chapter Fifteen
He drove straight to Merv’s. It was one in the afternoon and he wanted to make sure everything was working fine before he headed out again.
When he got there, Merv saw him and came out of the garage to greet him, wiping his hands with a greasy rag that looked like it was putting more black onto his fingers than it was taking off.
“Is my bike ready?”
Merv rubbed harder with the rag, staring down at it. “Well, it’s kind of complicated. You see, the person who ordered the parts ordered a Harley shift control.”
“I have a Honda.”
“Yeah. That’s the thing that’s complicated. Part doesn’t fit.”
Evan put a hand to his forehead. Seriously? He didn’t need to ask who was the genius in charge of ordering parts. Obviously it was the son.
There was no point yelling. Merv’s was the only garage in town. They pretty much had him and his HONDA hostage.
“How long will it take to get the right part?” he asked.
“Two to three business days.”
Just like before.
“So, if it’s Wednesday today…”
“You’re looking at Monday. Probably.”
“Any chance of Friday?”
“Well, I don’t know.” Merv abandoned the rag to push back his ball cap and scratch his head. “I could put a rush on it.”
“I’d really appreciate that.”
“Do what I can. I’ll call you when it’s in.”
He headed back to the car. Merv’s voice stopped him. “Oh, and go ahead and keep the loaner car.”
Wow. What a concession. “Thanks. I will.”
Since he was there, he filled up with gas.
Then he drove slowly away, feeling oddly happy that he wasn’t leaving quite yet.
When he got to the library for his Spanish lesson with Pilar, she was there ahead of him at their usual table in the back. She was bent over a notebook and she had the look of a woman with a thousand pound weight on her shoulders. “Hola,” he said softly.
She glanced up and forced a smile. “Hola.” Her eyes were heavy and red-rimmed. Didn’t take a genius to see she’d been crying.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “Family trouble,” she said. “Legal trouble.”
He had a moment when he considered nodding and presenting her his homework. She had no clue as to his profession. He was here to learn Spanish not solve Pilar’s legal problems.
He opened his notebook and passed it to her. When she picked up her pencil she moved like a much older woman. She was a nice person, probably couldn’t afford a la
wyer. What kind of man ignored a woman in distress? He said, “I’m a lawyer. Do you want to tell me about your trouble?”
She glanced up at him, half hopeful half resigned to whatever shitty fate was in store for her. “You are here to learn Spanish,” she reminded him.
“So tell me the story in Spanish. You can explain the words I don’t understand.”
She bowed her head briefly. “Gracias.”
Sometimes, he knew, simply telling a stranger about a problem helped.
In the next thirty minutes he learned some new vocabulary and he got the gist of her tale. Pilar had been left a piece of property by her grandfather. A small farm. Her Uncle Trini was living on the property claiming his brother had left it to him and he had a deed to prove it.
“Today is my day off so I drove out there to talk to my uncle. I think that he’s family and we can work out a compromise.” She put her hands over her eyes for a moment. “He threatened me. Called me names. And he said if I didn’t get off his property, he’d set his dogs on me.” She glanced up at him and he saw that her pain was about so much more than money. “Who treats their own family this way?”
He’d been down this road too many times not to be cynical. “Blood is thicker than water,” he said, “But believe me, money’s thicker than blood.”
“If I could sell that property, I could help my children.” She sighed. “Maybe be able to retire one day.”
“Have you got a copy of your grandfather’s will?”
“Yes.”
Well, he thought, now that he had a couple more days in town, at least he could do something useful. “I’d like to have a look at the will and see if I can help you.”
She appeared doubtful. “I don’t have much money to pay you.”
“We’ll work something out. Maybe you can give me some extra Spanish lessons.”
He went back to his motel room, grabbed his workout stuff. Now that the dog was all healed, he took him for a run instead of a walk.
Evan felt like he needed the exercise. He ran five miles or so, his shadow trotting by his side, sometimes ahead, sometimes behind, but never far.
He was irritated about the bike hold up. Irritated about the book club. Irritated that no one had claimed Homely, here. Generally irritated.
He stopped in a park and did fifty push-ups on the grass, the same of situps. Took the time to stretch and then headed back to the motel. By the time he got there, the dog was dancing around his food bowl waiting to be fed.
And Evan wondered what he’d do about dinner. He felt like an evening at the Country Grill, but he didn’t want to eat alone. Apart from Caitlyn, he only knew one person in town he thought he’d like to eat dinner with.
So, he showered, shaved, put on clean clothes and walked over to Horace Freemason’s place.
When he knocked on the door he realized that he should have called first. A comfortable-looking woman with white curls opened the door. Evan said, “I’m looking for Horace.” He could smell pasta sauce and realized he’d probably interrupted dinner. “But I can come back if he’s eating. I’m Evan Chance.”
She smiled at him. “Evan, I’ve heard so much about you. Please, come in.”
“I wouldn’t want to—”
“Evan,” Horace’s voice boomed as he strode down the hall toward the doorway. “What a pleasant surprise. Come in. You’re in time for dinner.”
“I didn’t—”
“Please,” Mrs. Freemason said. “There’s plenty. I always cook enough for the family even though the kids are all grown and gone. It’s a habit that’s hard to break. You’ll do me a favor if you help eat up all this food.” She held out a hand. “I’m Phyllis.”
Then she spotted Homely, who, unlike Evan, had never been taught manners and was already pushing his way into the house. Phyllis Freemason laughed and bent down to pet the dog. “And who are you?”
“A homeless stray,” Evan said. “Like me.”
Her eyes twinkled as she glanced up at him with dark eyes. “Let’s see if we can make you both feel at home.”
Over dinner, Evan discussed Pilar’s case with Horace.
He shook his head. “It’s amazing how many families fall apart over inheritances.” He scooped a bite of lasagna and said, “Have you seen this will?”
“No. But I will tomorrow.”
The older man nodded. “And this uncle claims to have a deed.”
“Yes. Pilar says that her grandfather was very clear that he was leaving the farm to her.”
He chewed his food while Phyllis offered Evan more salad. Finally, Horace said, “You think the deed’s a forgery?”
“I think it bears investigating.”
“Can she afford a lawyer?”
“She’s a chambermaid at the Mill Pond Motel. So, no.”
“How are you going to take on a pro bono case if you’re not here?”
“I’ve got a few days.”
“Horace, why don’t you let Evan use your spare office?” Phyllis said. She smiled at Evan. “He used to have a partner. It will be nice for Horace to have company. And it’s our way of helping one of our neighbors. Don’t you agree Horace?”
His hosts exchanged a look that obviously meant something to them and then Horace nodded his head. “Office door’s open anytime after nine in the morning.”
Chapter Sixteen
Caitlyn usually loved her book club nights. They gave her a chance to relax, hang out with women she liked, talk a little bit about the book and a lot about general topics. Men, kids, aging parents, local gossip, whatever they felt like. In a town that size there was always going to be a disparity in ages and Caitlyn and Charlotte were two of the younger members of book club. However, tonight she couldn’t concentrate. Not on the book, on the discussion or the gossip. She sipped her wine and sampled from the table of snacks and felt as though a weight were pressing on her chest.
She nibbled an olive and put it aside on her plate.
Charlotte changed her seat to be closer to Caitlyn. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing,” she said in a tone that brimmed with everything that was currently wrong.
Charlotte merely raised an eyebrow and kept looking at her.
“Evan’s bike is fixed.” There. She’d said it. “He’s leaving.”
“He was always leaving,” her friend said gently.
“I know. I just didn’t think—”
“You were going to fall in love with him.”
The words hit her chest like rocks against a window. “I’m not in—it’s only been a few days. There is no way I could be--” Then she felt her eyes widen as Charlotte nodded. “Oh, shit. I’m in love with him.”
“Did you really think you could have casual sex? You’re the least casual person I’ve ever known. You have enough food in your house to feed all of Miller’s Pond if we’re ever under siege. You should check out your MD reviews online, every one of them talks about how thorough you are.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it? Because I always thought that a woman who plans her entire wardrobe a week in advance is probably not going to be the casual sex kind of girl.”
“Planning saves me time.”
“I know.”
“Don’t sound sympathetic. You’re making me feel like a loser.”
“You’re not a loser. You’re super smart about a lot of things and really dumb when it comes to your own needs.”
“How is this helping? You’re my best friend. You’re supposed to say, Hell, babe, you got laid a few times. Had some laughs. Another Easy Rider will cruise through town before you know it.”
Charlotte squeezed her upper arm. “Best friends don’t lie.”
“What am I going to do?”
“You could tell him how you feel?”
She waited while Shirley Chong helped herself to the food and then went to sit by the window with two of her neighbors. The pause gave her time to think about Charlotte’s idea, but by the time Shirley was ba
ck out of earshot she knew she wouldn’t blab her feelings to Evan.
“I knew from the first time I met him that he was only passing through. How can I suddenly tell him I’m a romantic fool?”
“What’s your alternative?”
“Say good bye. Not tell him anything.”
“I don’t really see what you’ve got to lose. If you tell him you love him, he might realize he loves you, too.”
“And then what? Whisk me off on the back of a motorcycle?” She threw up her hands and her plate nearly tumbled off her lap. A couple of cheese cubes rolled like dice. “I have a medical practice, a home. A cat.”
“Well, he has a dog.”
“Hunh. He’ll dump that poor animal off at a shelter right after he finishes saying goodbye to me.”
“Or, you could ask him to stay.”
Her gaze slipped to Charlotte’s and then skittered off again. “Ask him to stay. You mean, move in with me? I barely know the guy.”
“See what I mean? You are so not casual. No, I don’t mean he should move in with you. But maybe he could get a place. Stick around for a while and see how it goes. Based on the money he’s been dropping while he’s been here I’m guessing finances aren’t a big issue.”
“No, but… I don’t know. It’s a big commitment.”
“Maybe you don’t love him after all.”
She picked up a carrot stick off her plate. Put it down again. “I wish he’d never come here.”
Charlotte chuckled. “Fate sure has a funny way of messing up our well-ordered lives.”
As she walked home from book club, Caitlyn realized that Charlotte was right. Her friend, round with new life and glowing with happiness, had figured out what she hadn’t noticed in herself. She’d done the stupidest thing imaginable. She’d gone and fallen in love with a guy who couldn’t be more hopeless. The fact that he was on a quest to fulfill a list of things he’d dreamed up when he was twelve pretty much suggested his maturity level.
He was a boy on a bike.
And she was a grown woman who really shouldn’t be playing with boys.
Well, she thought as she turned into her road, that wasn’t going to be much of a problem since her boy was about to ride out of town. She breathed deeply, trying to dislodge the constriction in her chest, but the closer she got to her home and the knowledge that soon she’d be saying good bye to Evan, the more it pressed on her.
She was earlier than normal which gave her a little time to prepare herself for her good bye, but all she really did was brush her teeth and refresh her make-up -- at least his last memory of her wouldn’t be bad breath and smudged mascara. Then she tried to read an article in the New England Journal of Medicine but it was hopeless. She couldn’t have said whether she was reading about heart stents or prostate cancer breakthroughs.