Mountain Song

by Ruby Laska

  He felt the stirrings of passion and tried to calculate how late he’d have to stay up to finish off those chapters, if he went to her now.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Claudia continued as Andy put the book aside and went to sit down on the floor next to her. She made it look so comfortable, her supple body folded like an origami swan, but he found the floor hard and unforgiving as he pulled her to him, resting her back against his chest, fitting his chin over the top of her head, breathing her faint perfume.

  “Mmmm?”

  “I’ve been in Lake Tahoe since November. It’s practically the middle of March.”

  “The four happiest months of my life,” Andy said simply. It wasn’t the sort of thing he usually said, but it was true.

  “Me too. What I was wondering, um, what do you think of us making this, you know, permanent?”

  Andy lifted his chin from her hair, felt a spasm of discomfort along his cramped legs.

  “Claudia,” he’d begun slowly, carefully. “I can’t give you...” The rest was a blur, so quickly did the afternoon segue into the worst night of his life. The words flew; the more he reminded her of all the things he couldn’t provide, the angrier she became.

  And the one thing neither of them ever mentioned lay between them, the biggest obstacle of all.

  Because he’d never told her he loved her. And he was not at all sure he could give her the thing she needed most, the love that came so easily to her, the love she professed to him every day.

  And now, five years later, she was curled up on his couch that cost more money than he’d spent in an entire year back then, but the pose was the same, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs, and the question in her eyes went straight through him with every bit of the force it had carried back then.

  Then Claudia proved again that she had become a woman. Because she asked the question, the real question, the one they’d danced around that other time.

  “Andy,” she said quietly, “I have to know before we go any further. Just how much of yourself are you able to give me?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Claudia wished she could take them back.

  The look on Andy’s face—the wall that came up in his eyes, the way his jaw set a little firmer—confirmed her mistake. She knew the answer to her question. Why put both of them through this all over again?

  Andy was a lover of incredible skill, it was true, but he had one flaw: he couldn’t love. Not really. Not they way she deserved to be loved, with all his heart, beyond everything else in his life.

  Not the way Paul deserved to be loved.

  “I shouldn’t have let this happen,” she said, reaching around and zipping her dress with shaking fingers. She laughed mirthlessly. “The crazy thing is, I came here to—well, one thing is sure, I never planned on—on—touching you again.”

  Andy opened his mouth, closed it. While she straightened her clothes, smoothed her hair, with quick gestures, he made no effort at all to mend his disheveled appearance. He looked defeated, tired.

  He made no move to contradict her. Some part of her must have been hoping that at the last minute he’d come up with the words she needed to hear, to prove her wrong. All it would have taken was the smallest gesture on his part. God knew she had been carried along in the current of their lovemaking. If he hadn’t paused to go into the other room...

  Claudia flushed, remembering how his hands had felt on her skin as he eased the dress off her shoulders, the way his lips and tongue melted against her. It would be so easy, even now, to rush back into his arms, claim the passion she knew lay roiling below the surface, under that impassive expression.

  But she couldn’t. Even as a girl, a girl who was so ignorant in so many ways, even then she’d had the wisdom to see that what he offered wasn’t enough. That no matter how much she loved him, he’d only be able to give part of himself.

  And now there were two lives at stake. Two hearts, one very young and vulnerable, the other older, perhaps a little wiser.

  But at the moment, every bit as vulnerable.

  “I’ll let myself out,” Claudia said, giving everything she had to keep the tremor out of her voice. “I’ll call you tomorrow to discuss those...those alternative living situations for Bea.” And then, she thought, it would be a very good idea indeed to ask her father to come to Lake Tahoe and take over.

  It was high time she got back to her life. Her real life.

  “Pull back those sheers just a little more,” Bea said, pointing at the window with a buttered roll. Claudia did as she asked, pausing to drink the fresh air into her lungs, dewy morning air scented with the flowers blooming in the mountains.

  Claudia had finally gotten some rest. To her surprise, sleep had come immediately, deep and dreamless, once she got back to Bea’s house and dragged herself to bed without even changing clothes. When she woke hours later, the sun was already cresting the peak. She’d dressed quickly and come to the hospital, determined to wrap up her responsibilities, let her father take over for her.

  And the thoughts of Andy that kept impinging on her train of thought? Well, they were most unwelcome, and Claudia banished them with sheer will, pouring all her energy into the effort.

  “You’ve certainly got an appetite this morning,” she said as cheerfully as she could.

  Bea grimaced. “No food after midnight tonight,” she said. “In addition to sawing up the bones in my poor hip, they plan to starve me so I’ll be too weak to protest if anything goes wrong.”

  “Bea, for heaven’s sake,” Claudia reproached. “Dr. Dupree has done dozens of these procedures. Hundreds, I bet. Andy—” her voice caught a little, and she hastily coughed to cover it up. “Andy says she’s the finest.”

  “Yes, well, you notice he can’t be bothered to do the surgery himself.”

  “Bea!” Claudia rolled her eyes in exasperation as Bea tucked into her scrambled eggs and sausage. “It’s not his area. Dr. Dupree’s a specialist—oh, I don’t know why I even bother. We’ve been over this a hundred times.”

  “Specialist, schmecialist. For all the time that boy spends reading those ridiculous medical journals, you’d think there wasn’t a procedure out there he hasn’t got memorized.”

  Claudia sighed and drained the last of her latte, setting the paper cup carefully beside the pile of dishes.

  “Anyway, I’m pleased that you’re finally eating.”

  “Oh, speaking of Andy,” Bea said, dabbing daintily at the corners of her mouth with a napkin, “he brought me some wonderful materials yesterday.”

  “Yesterday? When?” Bea’s curious gaze alerted Claudia that she’d spoken too hastily.

  “I don’t know...late afternoon. He left early yesterday. Said he had some personal business,” she added, bending one eyebrow into a crafty expression.

  Claudia averted her eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” she said casually.

  A weighty silence filled the air for a moment.

  “So you haven’t told him yet.”

  “I—there hasn’t been time.”

  “I see.” A long, careful scrutiny, and then, thankfully, Bea let the subject drop.

  “Andy has been telling me all about this place. Fruitvale Senior Community. It’s over in Pine Crest, but that’s hardly half an hour from here. And while I’m sure they’re swindling lots of poor old folks out of their life savings, I have to admit that they do have some intriguing materials.”

  She picked up a packet of glossy paper, held with a large binder clip, and thrust it at Claudia.

  “This is a...a nursing facility?”

  Bea wrinkled her nose and glowered. “Nursing home? Lands, Claudia, I’m not ready to hang up my hat quite yet! No, I’d have my own apartment. There—that one. Take a look at that. And there’s a floor plan...”

  As Bea chattered on, Claudia turned over page after page of the brochure, heart sinking lower and lower.

  “Bea,” she finally said, “how could you l
et him do this to you?”

  Bea paused, and regarded her granddaughter down the length of her nose for a moment. Then she took another bite and chewed, a thoughtful expression on her face.

  “Do what, exactly, my dear?”

  “Put you in a—in one of these horrible places.”

  “First of all, no one has ever put me anywhere I didn’t want to go, if memory serves,” she said sternly. “Secondly, I do believe you are being just bit narrow-minded here, Buttercup.”

  “But Bea—”

  “And don’t go saying that all this meddling in my affairs is for my own good. I get positively furious when I hear that. I can think for myself, thank you very much, and while I do appreciate my favorite grandchild traveling all this way to be with me, and while I love you more than anything in the whole entire world...”

  Claudia waited, wincing at Bea’s strong reprimand, feeling very much like a girl again.

  “...I have to tell you, Claudia Canfield, that I think it’s you who is in dire need of learning to let go.”

  “Let go? Of what?”

  Bea sighed dramatically and waved her orange juice in a sweeping gesture. “Of the past. Of thinking everything has to stay the same. People grow. They change. They age. They lose the ability to do some things, but they learn new things.”

  “Some people,” Claudia corrected her half-heartedly. “Some people can change. Others don’t have a prayer. I just wonder if you’ve taken into account—”

  “I’m ready for a whole new phase in my life,” Bea interrupted. “Don’t you see, Claudia? I might not be able to tie my shoes when this is all said and done, but maybe I can learn to, I don’t know, use a computer or invest in the stock market or play bridge!”

  “Bridge? Did you say bridge?”

  “Why not?”

  Claudia’s heart sank. “Because all your life you said you’d never be one of those old ladies with the tissue packs in their purses who sit around and play cards. Because—because you’re better than that.”

  Bea snorted. “Better, huh? I hate to say it, Claudia, but I’m disappointed in you. I thought you’d escaped that dreadful Canfield better-than-thou attitude. And besides, I can’t imagine what I ever had against bridge. It kind of looks like fun. And hearts—Andy comes around and plays a few rounds now and then when he’s got time.”

  Claudia exhaled slowly. Him again. “He’s never got time.”

  “He makes time. For what’s important.” Again the pause, the sly look.

  Claudia brought her back to the subject. “If you want to play bridge, why can’t you just have some ladies over to the house?”

  Bea sighed. “I don’t know why you’ve got your heart set on keeping me cooped up in that old barn.”

  “But you love your house! You and Grandpa Bud—”

  “I was a wonderful home for me and Bud, that’s true,” Bea said, softening. “There’s a lot of memories in those walls, in all that ridiculous old furniture. But really, Claudia, what am I supposed to do with it all? Open a museum?”

  “I’m just thinking of you,” Claudia said, voice wobbly. Despite her best efforts a fat tear spilled over and plopped on her cheek, followed by another. “I just don’t ever want you to get old.”

  “Oh ho,” Bea said softly. “So there we have it. Come here, dearie.”

  Claudia laid her cheek on the crisp bed linens and allowed herself to be stroked and patted, sniffling. “This is embarrassing,” she managed to mumble. “You’re treating me like a little girl.”

  “Oh, come now, Sugar,” Bea crooned. “You’re just in a rough spot. Here I am moving right along with my life, and you’re stuck in a place you don’t want to be stuck in your life. It’s no wonder you’re having trouble seeing me change.”

  “What do you mean, I’m stuck?” Claudia bristled a little despite Bea’s wonderfully relaxing touch. “I like my life just fine.”

  “Well, you know. Some might say you were in a bit of a rut. Don’t get me wrong, but I know you’re itching to do more than variations on the delivery driver uniform theme.”

  Claudia sighed. Bea had landed squarely on a sore spot. She did long to branch out into other work, but working in the family business provided a feeling of security she wasn’t ready to lose. “When the time is right, I’ll—”

  “Then there’s this uppity hands-off businesswoman persona you’ve gone and taken on.”

  “I’m not the least—”

  “It’s no wonder Andrew’s having such a hard time sweeping you off your feet.”

  “What’s he got to do with this?” Claudia swiped angrily at her tears, but more coursed down her cheek. “Why do you always have to bring him into every discussion we ever have?”

  “Why can’t you just admit that he’s never stopped being a part of your life? I declare, Claudia, you are doing everything in your power to disrupt a perfectly good happy ending.”

  Claudia snuffled softly, gratefully accepting the tissue Bea offered. “Just for the sake of argument,” she finally said. “If I even wanted Andy in my life, which I don’t, I mean it would be a really, really bad idea—”

  “Just for the sake of argument,” Bea repeated calmly.

  “Well, what makes you think he would...want me?”

  “Ha!”

  Claudia waited for her grandmother to elaborate. “Well?” she finally asked, lifting her head a little to look.

  Bea was shaking with silent laughter, but catching Claudia’s eye she sobered up. Or tried to, at least.

  “What!”

  “It’s just—” With a final quick giggle, she rubbed her cheeks and pulled a long face, and then regained her composure.

  “It’s just that you two are about the simplest smart people I’ve ever met.”

  “But Bea,” Claudia wailed. “I don’t see how you can laugh about this. He doesn’t love me.”

  There. It was out. For the first time in her life, Claudia had put into words the terrible truth that had driven her from Andy.

  Bea frowned, then narrowed her eyes. “Did he tell you that?”

  “That he doesn’t love me?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Well, not exactly. But he never said he did, either.”

  “Well,” Bea said gravely. “You are making the mistake of confusing two entirely unrelated matters.”

  “This is the one-bedroom unit,” Betsy Curran said, opening the door and stepping aside. Claudia allowed Andy to steer her inside the room, then turned slowly around.

  “Well, I have to say, it certainly is bright,” she said grudgingly.

  In truth, it was more than bright. It was beautiful. Compact in size, it was nonetheless well-designed. A large bay window in the dining area overlooked the tops of trees and the manicured courtyard below. Gleaming cabinets and modern appliances were visible through the pass through to the kitchen, and there were thick carpets underfoot.

  “You were lucky to be able to see this on such short notice,” Betsy continued. “We don’t usually have any of these units available, but we’re just freshening this one up for a new resident.” She consulted her clipboard. “A Mr. Eldon Wrightwood. Due tomorrow.”

  “I certainly do appreciate this,” Andy said, stepping aside to let Claudia walk around the apartment.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to finally meet the famous Dr. Woods.”

  Hearing the note of flirtation in Betsy’s voice, Claudia snapped her head around. Sure enough, Betsy’s body was curved unmistakably towards Andy, and she let the clipboard she hugged to her chest slip downward, stretching her blouse snugly over her breasts.

  “I’m sorry I’ve never followed up in person,” he replied. Though he was courteous, if he was picking up on Betsy’s signals, he wasn’t showing it; his eyes followed Claudia around the room.

  “We do appreciate your referrals so very much.”

  “And I’ve had excellent feedback.”

  “Well, we are one of the top-rated facilities in
the state. Innovative...” Tina’s voice dropped several notches. “Award-winning...” Claudia could swear she licked her lips.

  “Very impressive,” she broke in, her tone a little more aggressive than she intended. “But what sort of medical care is available in this building?”

  As Betsy described the various options for nursing and other kinds of care, Claudia listened with only fleeting attention. She was already sold on the place. She’d been amazed at the beauty of the setting, the well-designed residential buildings, the quality of the nearby medical facilities. They passed groups of seniors all about the extensive campus, enjoying the sunny day. Some played tennis nearby; others sipped tea under colorful umbrellas. A pair of ladies passed by in wheelchairs, chatting amiably.

  Nobody looked miserable.

  On the contrary, she had to grudgingly admit, Fruitvale Senior Community looked even better than its brochures. She could even picture her grandmother’s treasured Native American weavings on that wall, Uncle Bud’s carved breakfront over there...

  “I wonder if you’d excuse me and—and Dr. Woods,” she finally broke in. “I’d like to discuss a few details with him.”

  “Of course,” the lovely Betsy said. “Take all the time you want. Just close the door when you’re done, and if you have any more questions, please stop by my office.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that,” Claudia said through clenched teeth.

  “Do call, Dr. Woods,” Betsy purred, “if I can be of further service.”

  “I have to hand it to you,” Claudia sighed when the door clicked shut. “I didn’t think a place like this existed.”

  “So you’ll consider it?”

  “Well, as Bea reminded me this morning, it’s not my decision to make. But...if she likes it here as much as I think she will, then I’d certainly support her decision.”

  “Good. And your father?”

  “We only spoke for a few minutes this morning, before I left for the hospital. He was on his way into a meeting. Frankly, I think he’s still plenty worried about tomorrow’s surgery. He’s not thinking any further than that right now.”