A Different Light

by Mariah Stewart

  “Left them?” Callie’s head shot up from her book bag where she had been searching for her science notes. “What do you mean, she left them?”

  “She left them for a job. She lives in Europe now, and she never comes back,” Athen told her softly. “And I’d appreciate it if you kept that to yourself.”

  “At least his mother is still alive,” Callie retorted. “At least maybe he’ll be able to see her again someday.”

  “Do you think that makes him feel better, when maybe he needs her now?”

  “You’re only taking his side because you like his father,” Callie whined.

  “I’m taking his side because I think he’s a nice kid who is lonely and who’s had to deal with a great loss in his life, a loss that is every bit as big and every bit as real as yours. Maybe worse, because your father did not choose to die, but his mother chose to leave.” Athen leaned upon the counter. “I don’t think you are being fair to him, and that makes me sad. I don’t think he deserves the treatment he’s gotten, and I’m ashamed to know that you are a party to it, Calliope Moran.”

  Callie dropped her eyes, picked up her book bag, and stomped off to the sanctuary of her room.

  20

  Well, there are six different movies playing here tonight.” Quentin took Athen’s elbow as they entered the multiscreen theater on Friday night. “Do you have a preference?

  “No.” She shook her head. “You choose.”

  She stood slightly to the side while he bought the tickets.

  “I hope Silver Mornings is to your liking.” He ushered her through the glass doors. “It’s gotten excellent reviews.”

  “I haven’t heard anything about it, good or bad, but I’m sure it will be fine.” She took his arm to keep from getting lost in the crowded lobby.

  They took seats midway down the aisle as the lights began to dim. The previews of coming attractions began to roll and Quentin decided to go for popcorn. He returned just as the feature was about to begin. He handed her a cup of syrupy soda and placed the enormous box of popcorn between them. The rippling piano notes of the theme song faded as the scene opened onto a moonlit beach, where a woman paced anxiously in the sand, rubbing her hands together in obvious distress. The camera moved in on the woman until the unmistakable, flawless face of Dallas MacGregor filled the entire screen. Athen choked and Quentin patted her on the back.

  “You okay?” he whispered. “Got popcorn stuck in your throat?”

  Athen nodded dumbly and sank into her seat. She squirmed uncomfortably through the movie, to the extent that Quentin, assuming her view was obstructed, asked her if she’d like to sit somewhere else.

  Yes, she wanted to reply. The lobby would do nicely.

  She endured what she considered to be sheer torture. As always, the camera was devoted to Dallas, never showing her at a bad angle, if indeed there was such a thing. It lingered on her face so that every expression was viewed up close and personal on the wide screen. Quentin put his arm around her and she was tempted to bury her face in his shoulder to blot out the lavender eyes, the pouting smile, the perfect skin of her late husband’s first love.

  An hour and a half later, they emerged, holding hands, Athen grateful that the film had finally ended.

  “Great movie,” he commented as they walked to the car.

  “Umm-hmm,” she replied from between painfully clenched jaws.

  “Where would you like to have dinner?”

  “I don’t care.” She shrugged.

  “Let’s try Scotties across the street.” He led and she followed quietly.

  After they placed their orders for sandwiches, Quentin noted, “You didn’t seem to enjoy the movie very much.”

  When she did not reply, he peered across the table, tilting his head to make eye contact with her. “What is it? Were you bored?”

  “Let’s just say that Dallas MacGregor is not my favorite actress.” She glanced away, pretending to watch the antics of a group of teenagers, two of whom had shaved heads, and another, purple hair.

  “I think she’s terrific,” he told her. “I thought she was great in this film. And she’s certainly one of the most beautiful …”

  “Quentin.” Athen couldn’t hold it in any longer. “John was in love with her.”

  “Yeah, well, so are ninety-nine percent of the men in the country.” He shrugged. “Including yours truly. So what?”

  “No, Quentin, I mean that they were in love with each other,” she said meaningfully.

  “John actually knew her?” Quentin’s jaw dropped.

  “They dated all through college.”

  “Wow. Your John must have been some guy to have had the two most beautiful women I ever saw in love with him.”

  “Very gallant, Mr. Forbes.”

  “Very true, Mrs. Moran,” he told her pointedly. “You are every bit as lovely, every bit as fascinating, and certainly every bit as sexy as Dallas MacGregor. I tip my hat to John Moran, who, besides being a selfless hero, had impeccable taste—and apparently incredible luck—when it came to women.”

  Her fingertips tapped on the tabletop.

  “Oh, come on, Athen, don’t tell me you’re jealous of her after all these years?”

  “A few months ago, I found a box of letters she’d written to him, hidden in the back of John’s closet.”

  “Recent letters?” Quentin’s eyebrows rose. A married cop from some small city in northern New Jersey having an affair with one of the world’s most glamorous film stars? Talk about a scoop.

  “No. From years ago. Letters she had written after she’d graduated from college and moved to California.”

  “I don’t understand the problem.” He shrugged. “Especially if John had stopped seeing her before he started seeing you.”

  “I guess I just hadn’t realized what she had meant to him.” Athen unconsciously began to tear tiny pieces from one end of a paper napkin. “John never talked about her. I knew she’d been his girlfriend, of course, since I was best friends with his sister. But from the time we started dating, I don’t remember him ever mentioning her name.”

  “Why should he have? It was obviously a closed subject by then.”

  “But he kept her letters all those years.”

  “Everyone keeps mementos of their past, Athen. And I would guess that he declined discussing her with you because she was, in fact, the past. You were his present and his future. Besides, only a totally insensitive man would have reminded his wife that his first love had been one of the most celebrated beauties of our generation. From all I’ve heard about John Moran, he was a pretty decent fellow.”

  “Yes, he was.” She nodded.

  “So why would John, who loved you, want you to harbor any doubts that you are as beautiful, as desirable, as she is, when he knew without question that you are?” His sincerity almost embarrassed her. “I suspect John simply put it behind him when it was over, and went on with his life and probably considered himself the luckiest man on the face of the earth when he married you. Which he was.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “That’s very sweet.”

  “Well, you should know that I am one hell of a sweet guy.”

  “I’ve said that very thing about you many times over the past few months.”

  “Now I thought we were going to let that dead dog lie?”

  He grinned as the waitress passed by the table and handed him the check.

  “Well, maybe it wasn’t such a bad picture,” she conceded as they strolled arm in arm to the car.

  “And the acting was pretty damned good, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “I guess maybe it was.”

  When he stopped in her driveway, she hesitated only momentarily before asking, “Would you like to come in for a few minutes?”

  “Sure.” He nodded. “It’s still fairly early.”

  Athen shushed Hannah, who met them at the door, her tail thumping loudly against the wall. Having decided that Quentin was her
friend, Hannah made joyful noises as they attempted to get past her in the foyer.

  Athen tossed her jacket onto the back of a chair and motioned Quentin to do the same before following her into the kitchen.

  “What can I get you?” she asked. “Coffee, tea, Metaxa …?”

  “What was that last one?” He pulled a chair out from the table and sat down.

  “Metaxa,” she said with a smile. “It’s Greek. Sort of wine blended with brandy.”

  “Sure. I’m game.”

  She went into the dining room and returned with a tall thin bottle and two small glasses.

  “I used to keep this for my father. Would you like me to water yours down a bit? It’s pretty strong, especially if you’re not accustomed to it.”

  “I’ll try it without.”

  She poured small amounts over ice, then added water to one glass, explaining, “You might be game, but I can’t drink it undiluted.”

  “Whoa.” Quentin knocked back the first sip. “It’s a bit heady, isn’t it?”

  Athen laughed and reached for his glass, but he waved her hand away, saying, “No, no. I’ve handled heartier stuff than this. I just didn’t expect the bite.”

  She watched his face as he took another, more cautious sip.

  “It has an interesting flavor. I get the brandy, but there is another note to it. I like it.”

  The muffled sound of the front door quietly closing sent Hannah to welcome Callie home from a birthday party. Athen wondered how Callie would react to finding Quentin Forbes alone with her mother.

  A slight movement at the doorway caught Athen’s eye. Callie stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the scene.

  “Did you have a good time at the party, sweetie?”

  “I guess it was okay.” Callie appeared to be awaiting an explanation for their guest.

  “Can you at least say hello to Mr. Forbes?” Athen tried not to glare at her daughter.

  “Hello, Mr. Forbes,” Callie replied flatly.

  “Hi, Callie.”

  “We saw a really good movie tonight,” Athen told her.

  “You didn’t tell me you were going to the movies.”

  “Well, I didn’t know when you went to Julie’s that I would be going out,” Athen said without apology.

  Callie remained at her post in the doorway.

  “Well, I should be getting on home.” Quentin stood up. “I’ve got an early date with Ms. Evelyn in the morning, and I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

  “Ms. Evelyn?” Callie asked, her curiosity piqued. “You’re going to see Ms. Evelyn tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” he replied casually. “I promised to be Ms. Evelyn’s mule this weekend.”

  “What does that mean?” Callie kicked off her sneakers, intrigued in spite of herself.

  “It means she has some heavy work to be done, and I offered to do it for her.”

  “What work?” Callie asked.

  “She needs help cleaning up some vacant lots she wants to transform into a Garden of Eden.”

  “A real garden?” Curiosity trumped animosity.

  “Oh, yeah,” he assured her. “She’s going to grow a little bit of everything: vegetables, flowers, even some fruits. She started a lot of the plants in her greenhouse.”

  “Who’s the garden for?” Callie’s stockinged feet padded into the room.

  “It’s for the people who live in the city who can’t afford to buy a lot of fresh produce in the supermarket, or who don’t have money to spare to buy a bunch of flowers to brighten up their home.” Quentin became serious. “Some people don’t know how to grow things, so Ms. Evelyn offered to teach them so they could learn to grow good foods for their families.”

  “Why did she ask you to help?”

  “Well, actually, I volunteered,” he told her.

  “Why?” Callie pressed.

  “Because we’re friends, and she has a very big job to do, and friends help friends.” He turned to Athen and said, “Maybe if you have a few hours to spare tomorrow, you can come down and give us a hand.”

  “I don’t know how much help I’d be,” Athen said with a laugh. “I never planted anything before last weekend.”

  “No, no, there will be no planting tomorrow,” he explained. “We’re going to spend the entire day just clearing the ground. It’s overgrown with weeds, litter, trash. Right now, we’re talking strictly dirty work. You game?”

  “What time?” Callie asked before Athen could respond.

  “Anytime,” he told her. “We’ll be there all day.”

  “Can we, Mom?” Callie begged.

  “I guess we can drive down and see if there’s anything we can do to help,” Athen readily agreed.

  “Let’s get up real early. What time are you going, Mr. Forbes?” It was the first time Callie had spoken rather than spit his name.

  “Probably around seven, but you don’t have to go that early.” Quentin made a point of addressing Callie rather than her mother. “There’s some equipment that’s being delivered—small tractors, some Dumpsters, stuff like that. But if you come around ten or so, I’ll bet there’ll be plenty for you to do.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Forbes.” Her smiling face was evidence that he had gone from suspect to ally, all in the course of one brief conversation.

  “Well, if we’re all going to be working hard tomorrow, I guess it’s time to say good night.” He winked at Athen and headed for the front door, stopping to pick up his jacket from the chair.

  “Mr. Forbes, will you tell Ms. Evelyn that I’m coming to help?” Callie had followed close behind him, climbing two steps up the stairwell to bring herself to his eye level.

  “Of course. I’m sure she’ll be delighted. I know you’re a big favorite of hers.”

  “She told you that?” Callie bit her bottom lip to conceal her pleasure.

  “On more than one occasion,” he assured her.

  “She’s one of my favorite people, too,” Callie said. “She always makes me feel good when I talk with her, and she never makes me feel like a pesky kid.”

  “Well, I think that’s her way of showing her respect for a fellow gardener,” he told her.

  “Hmmm …” Callie considered this. Just as she turned to go up the steps to her room, she glanced at her mother, who was leaning against the kitchen doorjamb.

  “Mom, the least you could do is walk Mr. Forbes to the door. …”

  WHAT DO YOU THINK, MOM?” Callie asked over breakfast the next morning. “Jeans and sweatshirts?”

  “Hmmm?” Athen glanced up from the newspaper. She’d been trying unsuccessfully for ten minutes to read the same article, her mind insisting on dragging her back to the night before, to long deep kisses in the darkened doorway that had rattled her to her soul and kept her riveted to the spot even after Quentin closed the door behind him.

  “I said, maybe we should wear jeans and sweatshirts,” Callie repeated. “It’s a little chilly this morning.”

  “Maybe something a little lighter. It’s supposed to warm up later.”

  “Okay.” Callie poured herself a bowl of granola.

  “Sounds like a good plan.” Athen folded the paper and reached for her coffee. It seemed like a lifetime since she had been kissed that way. …

  “This will be fun.” Callie spooned yogurt on top of her cereal. “I wonder what Ms. Evelyn will want me to do. Mom, why are you grinning like that?”

  “What?” Athen, shaken from her reverie, covered quickly. “Oh, I was just thinking about … about how nice it is to help a friend.”

  “I agree.” Callie dug into her breakfast. “It was sure nice of Mr. Forbes to say we could help. Maybe he’s not so bad, Mom. I mean, he was really pretty nice to me, even though I haven’t been real nice to him. I’m going to run up and get dressed so I can take Hannah for a walk before we go.”

  Callie disappeared from the room in a flash, leaving Athen to shake her head. Sometimes being a parent to a preadolescent child is like doing penance. One
day, they’re sullen and moody; the next day, they are responsible and resourceful. Then, suddenly, they are four years old again, dependent and demanding.

  “You are amazing,” she’d whispered to Quentin the night before. “You totally turned her around in a flash. How did you know how to do that?”

  “Kids like to be treated with respect and like to be recognized for their accomplishments,” he’d said with a shrug. “Callie admires Ms. Evelyn and that admiration is returned. I thought it wouldn’t hurt if I let her know.”

  “Callie hasn’t treated you with much respect,” Athen had reminded him.

  “Sometimes kids need to know that you respect them first.” He had started to nibble on her bottom lip, and if there had been further conversation after that, she couldn’t recall what it had been about.

  “Mom, you’d better get dressed.” Callie breezed through the room, Hannah’s leash over her shoulder, the dog bouncing and hopping merrily behind her. “Come on, girl. Mom, try to be ready when I get back, okay?”

  “WOW!” EXCLAIMED CALLIE WHEN SHE and Athen approached their destination on foot. They’d parked almost three full blocks away due to the many cars that were parked along the street by the volunteers who had arrived before them. “Look at all the people!”

  Scores of workers bustled about, filling the vacant lots. Some carried old tires and broken pieces of furniture to the Dumpsters that lined the Schuyler Avenue side. Some were carefully picking up broken bottles, while others were removing rocks so that the large lawn mowers could cut down the high grass. Along Third Street, other volunteers awaited the tractors that would turn over the hard, long-neglected ground into which another army of volunteers would work truckloads of topsoil and cow manure, the pungent aroma of which was just beginning to drift on a slight breeze.

  “Hey, Ms. Evelyn!” Callie’s face lit at the sight of the old woman in overalls and sunglasses who directed the activity.

  “No, no, Joe, you have to finish clearing that side section before you can bring that mower in there.” Ms. Evelyn pointed a long thin brown finger toward the back of the lot and addressed several people at the same time without missing a beat. “Now you, Thomas, go see Ms. Adeline for a bandage for that cut. I told you to watch out for broken glass. Callie, I heard you and your mother would be helping out today. I’m so happy that you came by to give us a hand.”