Hidden Hearts

by Ann Roberts

  Re: Definitely Friends First! – 27 (Central Phoenix)

  Date: 2010-06-17 5:07AM MST

  Dearest DFF,

  The moon is a ghost now. I’ve fluttered beyond the horizon and past the oldest part of time. The golden yellow sun pierces my soul infuriarting and igniting me at the same time. Then I whisper.

  Posted by: ????girl

  Reply

  Re: Definitely Friends First! – 27 (Central Phoenix)

  Date: 2010-06-17 11:52AM MST

  DFF,

  This will be short—at work. Liked yor post. My stats: luv horses, working out, Zumba, long walks on the beach, and if yur a real redhead, I’ll marry u on the spot. Gotta go. Boss alert.

  Posted by: Cheekygal

  Reply

  Re: Definitely Friends First! – 27 (Central Phoenix)

  Date: 2010-06-18 8:44PM MST

  DFF,

  Are you happy with the number of hits and the quality of the hits your posting has received? If not, please contact us as we can help you design and create a posting guaranteed to attract that special someone. She’s out there waiting for the right words from you!

  Posted by: Classyads

  Reply

  Chapter Ten

  June, 2010

  Ding!

  CC woke to the smell of strong coffee. She gently rotated her ankle and was surprised that only a flicker of pain remained. She got up slowly and gingerly walked to the adjoining bathroom. It was tiny with only a pedestal sink, mirror and toilet, but Penn’s choice of chrome fixtures and dark Italian tile impressed her. The woman had great taste.

  Her need for a caffeine fix drove her to the kitchen. Penn had favored red shelves over kitchen cabinets, and a small island served as the dining table and prep area, which, considering the size of the cottage, was an excellent economical space choice. The steel appliances and bright countertops added to the kitchen’s appeal.

  She saw the note after she poured the coffee. It took three attempts to read her horrible handwriting. Hi. Had to do some work and errands. If you’re reading this you must be up and your ankle is better. Otherwise, I guess I’ll find you stuck in my bed when I get home. Not an unpleasant thought. Help yourself to whatever you want.

  It wasn’t signed and gave no mention as to when she would return, not that CC could afford to hang around. She glanced at her watch. She was already late, and she’d need at least another hour to get home, shower and change before she went to work. But she kept rereading the part about Penn finding her in bed. She was flirting—in writing. For a lawyer, it was serious to commit words to a page that could be used in court. She shook her head, completely confused.

  She sipped her coffee and reviewed her day, thinking of the meetings and the unappealing stack of files on her desk that never seemed to shrink. After draining the cup, she grabbed her handbag, portfolio and shoes from the bedroom. There was no way she’d attempt to wear the heels with a wobbly ankle, so she went barefoot out the door.

  “Hello,” a voice called.

  Sitting cross-legged on top of the mosaic table was a woman with bright red hair. It flowed straight down her back and glimmered in the sun. She was rail-thin with milky skin, finely chiseled bone structure and perfect posture. The yoga pants, tank top and pose suggested she was meditating.

  “Hi, I’m CC,” she said, offering her hand.

  The woman’s handshake was delicate, as if she was protecting her fingers. “I know. I saw you last night when I got home. I’m Siobhan.”

  Her brogue was rich and thick and CC immediately wanted her to say something else. “Can you repeat that?”

  She nodded with the patience of someone who was always asked the same question. “It’s like the first syllable of Chevy, Chev and the word on. Siobhan.”

  “Siobhan,” she repeated. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thanks. Are you feeling better?”

  “Much. I’m sorry I wasn’t awake when you got home.”

  She laughed and tucked her hair behind her ears. “That’s entirely forgivable. I heard Lynette and Viv fed you drugs and alcohol. You were helpless.”

  “I suppose I was. You were at work?”

  “Yes, I’m a harpist with the Phoenix Symphony. We had a concert.”

  “Wow. You must be very good.”

  She grinned with humility. “I hope so. I don’t make much money, but I enjoy what I do. Can you say the same?”

  CC stumbled before she said, “I’m an attorney like Penn.”

  “No one’s an attorney like Penn,” she disagreed. “At least, I’ve never met anyone like Penn, have you?”

  “I hardly know her.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  She uncrossed her legs and stretched her arms, freeing herself from first position. When she stood next to CC she towered over her. “After you went to sleep last night, Lynette and Maya pumped Penn and Viv for information, but they wouldn’t say why you’ve shown up or what you want. What do you want?” She threw a glance at the portfolio. “Does it have anything to do with art? Are you a groupie just trying to spend some time with Viv?”

  CC really didn’t know what she wanted, and she couldn’t understand why Viv and Penn hadn’t ratted her out.

  “It’s complicated,” she said lamely. “I’m involved in a legal matter with Viv.”

  She narrowed her gorgeous green eyes, disbelieving. “Penn is Viv’s attorney. She’d never hire someone else.”

  “No, I’m not her attorney. Like I said, it’s complicated.” Siobhan studied her until she felt undressed. “I need to get going. I’m already late for work. It was nice meeting you.”

  “Take the day off,” she said suddenly.

  “What?”

  “Play hooky. You’ve obviously been hurt so use that as an excuse. Spend the day with me.”

  “Uh, I can’t. I have things I need to get done.”

  She reached for the sky and stretched, extending her frame to its full length and displaying the curves of her large breasts. CC caught a glimpse of her creamy white belly before she exhaled slowly and relaxed each muscle and vertebra.

  “And what could be so important that it can’t wait until tomorrow? Are you in the middle of a murder trial?”

  “No—”

  “Do you have an important death row appeal that’s due before midnight?”

  “Of course not. I—”

  “Are they making you a partner?”

  “No, I just—”

  “You’re just another lawyer having a typical day of paper pushing,” she concluded. “At least that’s what Penn always calls it. So just skip it.”

  “Skip it?” she asked incredulously. Siobhan made ditching work sound as harmless as throwing aluminum cans in the trash rather than the recycling dumpster.

  “Yes.”

  She thought of the files, the handwriting sample and the report she still hadn’t rewritten for Blanca—and her last student loan statement. She was about to hobble back to her car when Siobhan took her hand.

  “Even though I’m taller than you, I’ve got some clothes you could wear. C’mon, we’ll have some fun. You’ve read the mosaic above Penn’s kitchen, right?” Siobhan extended her foot and pointed to the I Choose mosaic embedded in the concrete table. “Make a choice, the right choice.”

  ****

  Decked out in white capri pants, a stylish red cotton blouse and some black flats, for she and Siobhan were indeed the same shoe size, they took her portfolio and headed across the lawn for their first stop—coffee and scones with Viv.

  She’d called and spoken with Blanca about her absence, stating that she’d taken a spill down some stairs and was spending the day with her foot in the air. She tried to sound injured and promised she’d be back tomorrow. Blanca had sighed deeply and dismissed her curtly.

  They found Viv on the sun porch working on a picture of Chloe, taking advantage of the morning light. Beside her were a sterling silver tea set and a basket of scones covered by a linen nap
kin.

  “Look who I brought with me,” Siobhan announced, digging under the napkin.

  Viv seemed genuinely pleased and patted the stool beside her. “Sit down and give me your opinion,” she said.

  She held up a two-page spread depicting Chloe packing for a trip. The various green hues of Chloe’s skin, the rich brown tones of the old suitcase and the background choices for Chloe’s cute bedroom would entice young readers to keep turning the pages. She said as much to Viv who thanked her for the feedback and picked up her portfolio.

  “Now, let me see your little guy.”

  She protested, but Viv ignored her and found the page with Danny the Dachshund. “It’s so basic,” CC apologized. “I did it back in high school and forgot about it.”

  “I like it,” Siobhan offered between scone bites. “He’s cute.”

  “So what needs to change?” Viv asked like a teacher.

  She wasn’t expecting the question. She’d had a similar conversation with her art teacher over ten years ago. “Well, I need more of a blend to the browns and blacks of his coat, and his eyes aren’t right.”

  “What do you mean?” she probed.

  “They’re not interesting. A character’s eyes are critical to establishing a connection with a child reader. It’s all in the eyes.”

  She smiled, pleased. “You have a wonderful beginning. Now, I want you to fix Danny and bring him back to me.” She rose and assembled a box of supplies.

  “What?”

  “I think I’ve included everything you need. I certainly don’t use the Sumi ink much so it won’t be missed.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” she said, handing her the box. “Now, if you want a scone you’d better eat one quick. Siobhan can finish an entire basket in less than ten minutes. How she keeps her twig figure I’ll never know.” She gave her a look and added, “Aren’t the Irish a hearty people with girth?”

  “We are,” she said between bites. “I should weigh about ten pounds less but that will never happen if I keep eating your scones and pie.”

  CC took a scone and asked, “Viv, how did the enclave come to be?”

  Her smile broke. “Well, when my father sold the groves, my mother insisted that we keep our home. Mr. Rubenstein liked her so much that he threw in some extra land, which originally housed workers’ quarters. Back in the fifties there were three identical cabins that sat where the cottages are now.”

  “How did they transform into cottages?”

  Viv stirred her tea and added some drops from a lemon wedge. CC sensed she’d hit on a difficult topic. When Viv looked up she said, “Transform isn’t exactly the word I’d choose, dear.”

  “What happened?”

  “They burned down.”

  ****

  The ER parking lot at Maricopa Medical Center was so crowded that people had created random parking spaces, obviously believing their medical emergency warranted the risk of a ticket or a tow. Siobhan’s ancient Ford truck snaked through the lot four times until it finally came across a man wearing a huge cast and a boy piling into a Chevy Cavalier.

  When the man tumbled into the passenger side and the boy, who couldn’t have been more than eleven got behind the wheel, Siobhan said, “I hope today isn’t his first driving lesson.”

  She put the truck in reverse to give him ample room to exit before claiming the prized spot. They wandered into the ER and the sounds and sights assaulted them immediately. Many of the waiting families held one or two screaming infants. People slept in chairs, contorted into uncomfortable positions, and a few men and women, who CC guessed were homeless judging by their lack of hygiene, shuffled past, each muttering nonstop to an invisible companion. A man in his thirties sat alone in a corner, his hand wrapped in a bloody bandage. The look on his face suggested he had a few painkillers in his system. A TV mounted to the ceiling blared an old seventies comedy, the laugh track a bitter oxymoron to the misery and exhaustion on the faces in the lobby. And CC noted none of the faces were white.

  She stayed close to Siobhan, who seemed unfazed by the scene. She carried a pink gift bag in her hand that Maya needed at noontime. She’d been in charge of purchasing a gift for a baby shower and had left it on her kitchen table as she rushed out the door.

  The desk clerk waved at her. “Hey, hey, girl. The cavalry has arrived. You saved her bacon.”

  Siobhan nodded at the large Hispanic woman. “It’s good to know someone with a night job. Is she here? I’ll feel better once it’s no longer in my possession.”

  The woman nodded as she picked up the phone. “Yeah, go on back. She should be finishing rounds.”

  The double doors flew open and they headed into triage. Medical personnel raced in all directions, carrying charts and supplies or pushing gurneys. They spotted Maya surrounded by several young nurses who wrote furiously in their notebooks. She was discussing the diagnosis of a patient and as each one made an effort to impress her, she either pointedly disagreed or gave a quick nod before asking the next question. When she saw CC and Siobhan, she excused herself.

  She kissed Siobhan on the cheek and took the bag. “I owe you.”

  “As usual.”

  Maya turned and gave CC an unexpected hug. “You’re looking a hundred times better. How’s the ankle?”

  “Great, but I think I’ll stay away from heels for a few days.”

  “Probably a good idea.” She looked at her with wise eyes, and again she had the feeling that she’d seen her face before.

  Maya kissed Siobhan again and returned to work. As they made their way out of the hospital, CC couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she knew her.

  “Has she always worked here?”

  “For a long time but I think that’s about to change.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, if you can believe it, she would prefer to work in a clinic. These patients aren’t needy enough. Many of them are getting help from the system, but not only is she very tired of the bureaucracy, she knows many families don’t qualify. Those are the people she wants to help.”

  “That’s very noble given the demand for nurses.”

  She nodded and maneuvered out of the parking lot. “Absolutely. She turned down an opportunity to do research at Johns Hopkins and a chance to be a surgical nurse at Sloan-Kettering. All for this. But I think the reason she wants to leave is personal.”

  “Why?”

  “Her lover is the hospital’s CFO. She’s married, and Maya has finally realized she’ll never leave her husband.”

  She groaned. “I hate those stories.”

  Suddenly Siobhan’s cell phone barked. “Hi Lynette,” she cooed. “How are you, love?”

  All she could hear was a high-pitched squeak on the other end. CC checked her own phone and answered her e-mail, much of which was from Blanca who had questions about various cases. Clearly she would contact her endlessly as punishment for missing work.

  “Are you serious? Lynette! Fine, we’ll be there in a few minutes.” She hung a quick right onto Central Avenue and explained. “That was Lynette. Charlie Parker ate something and now he’s throwing up. She’s alone at the store and needs help. So how are you at cashiering?”

  “Who’s Charlie Parker? I mean, I know who the real Charlie Parker is…”

  “One of the mutts. Sorry, I didn’t explain that very well. All of her canine friends are named after famous musicians. There’s Charlie Parker, Muddy Waters, Janis Joplin, Chrissy Hynde, Ella Fitzgerald, Aretha—that’s just Aretha—and in my honor, Turlough O’Carolyn.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “He was an influential Irish harpist who lived in the sixteen hundreds. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him,” she said sarcastically.

  “Sorry. I think the harp is beautiful, though. And what an honor to have a dog named after you. What kind of dog is it?”

  “Well, it’s hard to tell. You may not have noticed last night since you were in a drug-induced stupor, but all of Lynette’
s dogs are rescues. She picks the homeliest dogs that are just a few hours away from the needle and adopts them.”

  “Then I’m surprised she only has seven.”

  “That’s because we don’t let her bring any more of them home. Lynette may love dogs, but Viv has a soft spot for feral cats. One afternoon we found the canines and the felines facing off in the front yard. It looked like the animal version of West Side Story. After we separated them, we told Lynette she had to find other people to take the dogs. She’s a one-woman adoption center who’s probably saved a few hundred animals. She’s got a website, and she puts up flyers in her store. She does a lot.”

  Siobhan pulled into a driveway and parked behind a small strip mall. Two of the four shops were boarded up but the parking lot was half full, an indication that Central Music and Valley Vinyl were thriving. CC recognized the Smartcar from the enclave and assumed it was Lynette’s.

  A small patio faced the parking lot; huge plants and misters kept the June heat at bay and the entire side wall was plastered with flyers of lost cats and dogs. A hairy brown blob that looked like a cross between an Irish setter and a pug bounded through an open door, clearly excited to see Siobhan. The short, fur-covered mop wiggled and she laughed.

  CC was grinning. “I hope Lynette puts her dogs on YouTube. People would crack up.”

  Siobhan leaned down and petted him. “She does. She is one of the most socially connected people you’ll meet. This is Janis Joplin.”

  CC found the fur to be unexpectedly soft. “You’re adorable.”

  “They’re all adorable in their own way.”

  Punk music echoed throughout the store, which was incredibly bright and covered in aluminum siding that was hidden by dozens of concert posters for popular bands like the Ramones and the Pretenders, as well as groups CC had never heard of. Rows of album racks took up the floor space and a Phono Bar lined the west wall. Customers could sit on stools, put on some headphones and listen to the albums. Several signs warned them to be careful with the LPs and to ask for assistance as needed. She shivered, realizing the Phoenix heat was a bitter enemy to the vinyl records.

  “Her AC bill must be outrageous,” she said to Siobhan.