Things Remembered

by Georgia Bockoven

  “Karla? Are you all right?” He put his hand on the back of her neck and brought her forward until their foreheads were touching. Softly, he added, “Too soon?”

  She brought up her chin to kiss him, not caring that they were in the lobby of a hospital sitting in front of a window for all the world to see. “The beginning of forever.”

  Chapter

  28

  You told me she was going to be all right,” Grace said accusingly, the words coming between hiccuped sobs.

  Karla was dumbfounded at Grace’s impassioned reaction to the news about Anna. After what had happened at Thanksgiving, she’d expected concern, not trauma. “She is going to be all right,” Karla repeated.

  “I’m coming home.”

  “That’s crazy. There isn’t anything you can do here. Besides, won’t you lose your job if you leave? That’s the last thing Anna would want.”

  “Let me talk to her. I want to hear for myself that she’s okay.”

  “You can’t talk to her yet.”

  “Why not?”

  Karla considered coming up with something to pacify Grace, but chose the truth instead. She needed her credibility. “She’s still on the respirator.”

  “She’s on a respirator? My, God, she can’t even breathe for herself and you’re trying to tell me she’s going to—”

  “Calm down and listen to me. The respirator isn’t because she can’t breathe for herself, it’s to make sure she gets plenty of oxygen while they reduce the fluid in her lungs.”

  “She has fluid in her lungs?”

  Karla leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. She wasn’t handling this very well. She should have waited to call Grace when she’d had some sleep and her mind was sharper. She heard someone coming and looked up expectantly, thinking it might be Mark, even though she knew he wouldn’t be there for hours yet. Her pleasure at having him with her had become a need, and her disappointment was acute when she saw that it was only another group of visitors headed for the maternity wing. “How long are you going to be in Florida?”

  “Until it stops raining and we can get the shots we came for.”

  “I need a time frame. Days? Weeks? Months?”

  “Mid-January. Why?”

  “I’m going to get some material on congestive heart failure and send it to you.”

  “You don’t have to do that. Just tell me about it. I’m sure you’ve already read everything there is.”

  At last, something Karla could smile about, even though the smile was more dry than happy. Grace had never been a reader, acting as if there were only so many words her mind could absorb and she wanted to save them for important things, like scripts. “Then you’re going to have to trust me when I tell you I know what I’m talking about.”

  “Does that mean I’m not allowed to ask questions?”

  “Of course not. Just don’t question everything I tell you.” She ran her hand through hair desperately in need of a good shampooing, knowing she was only making it look worse but was too tired to care. “I’m going to let you go now. If you want an update tonight, I’ll be at Grandma’s. You can catch me there or leave a message where you’ll be and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Give her a hug for me and tell her I love her. Oh, and I want to send flowers. What’s the name of the hospital?”

  “She’s in Sutter Roseville, but why don’t you hold off on flowers for a couple of days? I’m not even sure they allow them in intensive care.”

  “She’s in intensive care? You didn’t tell me that.”

  Frustrated beyond patience, Karla was tempted to bang her head against the wall. “Don’t panic,” she said calmly. “It’s just the way they do things here.”

  “You have no idea how hard it is to be this far away. You’re lucky because you’re there and can see everything for yourself. I don’t have a doctor or nurse to explain things to me. All I have is you.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better from now on.”

  “I love you, Karla.”

  The words startled her. She couldn’t remember the last time Grace had told her she loved her. Or, for that matter, the last time she’d told Grace. “I love you, too.” She started to tell her good-bye, but thought of one more thing she wanted to say. “I’m really proud of you, too. Now go break a leg and let me take care of Grandma.”

  Karla got her wish. She was the first person Anna saw when she woke up. Karla took her hand and gave her a smile that put her heart on her sleeve. “Welcome back.”

  Anna opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out.

  “She’s just hoarse from the tube that was in her throat,” the nurse said.

  “Do you know what happened and where you are?” Karla asked. “Just nod or shake your head,” she added quickly.

  Anna closed her eyes and nodded as if she were a child being chastised for bad behavior.

  “I’m not going to wear you out with details; all you need to know right now is that everything is being taken care of—including me. Susan and Allen have been wonderful.”

  Anna smiled.

  “And Mark—well, I guess the best way to tell you about Mark is that he’s everything my father said he would be.”

  “You found . . . your gentle hero,” Anna whispered.

  “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  “I . . . hoped he was . . . the one.”

  “Now all I have to do is figure out what I’m going to do about it.”

  Anna squeezed her hand. “It will . . . come to you.”

  Karla settled back in her chair. She was suddenly ravenously hungry and wished the chicken sandwich weren’t five hours old. “Bill knows you’re in the hospital, but we both agreed it was better not to tell Heather for a couple of days. I did talk to Grace, however, and she—”

  Anna had no doubt Karla had taken care of whatever she felt needed to be taken care of and that it was safe just to lie there and half listen. She’d already heard the important part—the part about Karla and Mark. She’d worried she might not live to see Karla find the happiness long overdue her. It seemed she wasn’t as ready to let go of this life and move on to the next as she’d tried to convince herself she was.

  She’d been on her second nitroglycerin tablet on the trip home from Salinas with Susan when she finally had to admit that she was in deep trouble. When she was being rushed to the hospital, a dozen memories surfaced and fought for recognition. She still had so much to share with Karla, so many stories to tell. The world would go on if Karla never knew why Frank hadn’t fought in the war or how many years Anna’s parents and her six brothers and sisters had lived in the basement of their uncompleted house in North Dakota before they could afford to finish building. Karla didn’t need to know these things, but Anna needed to tell her.

  Now that she knew she had more time, she wouldn’t waste a minute. If necessary, she would go to Solvang to be with Karla to tell her the stories, to share the memories.

  Mark listened for the shower to stop before he tossed the mushrooms and green onions into the pan with the turkey sausage, calculating it would take Karla another ten minutes to get dressed and be ready to eat. He’d offered to take her out to dinner, but she’d said she preferred to eat at home where they could be alone and talk without being interrupted. The mushrooms were still a milky white when he heard her come into the kitchen and felt her arms slip around his waist.

  He was a simple man, easy to please, undemanding in everything and everyone—with the exception of the woman he loved. In this he was intractable. He’d been ready, even willing, to live the rest of his life alone if he couldn’t find the woman whose smile brought a quickness to his heart and whose tears touched his soul. He’d had no idea what she would look like, how she would sound, or whether she would laugh at his jokes. All he knew for sure was that when he looked into her eyes he would see tolerance and love and caring. She would glory in a child’s hug, that a cloud looked like an umbrella, that on Augu
st nights there were meteor showers. And she would respond when an old woman needed her no matter how inconvenient the time or place.

  He turned and saw that Karla had come to him fresh from the shower, her hair wet and combed straight back, her feet bare, her body covered by a terry cloth robe. He kissed a drop of water from her nose and brought her into his arms. She snuggled against him, her head on his shoulder. “You smell good,” he told her.

  “It’s the shampoo.”

  “Whatever it is, I like it.”

  She put her head back and smiled. “You can borrow it. Anytime.”

  “It wouldn’t be the same.” He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her before running his tongue across her lower lip. “You taste good, too.”

  “It’s the toothpaste.”

  “Can I borrow that, too?”

  “Of course.” She put her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoe to kiss him again. “Anytime.”

  He deepened the kiss and she responded with an energy that filled him with a burst of longing. “I thought you were hungry.”

  “Me, too. But something happened when I saw you that made me forget all about food.”

  He reached behind him and turned off the stove. “Maybe you picked up on the thoughts I’ve been having.”

  She smiled. “About me?”

  He gave the sash she’d looped around her waist a tug and opened her robe, exposing a long, narrow path of pink skin. He followed the path with the tips of his fingers, confirming the softness he’d imagined, the way she would catch her breath, the desire that would pound through him like waves in a storm.

  “Would you like me to tell you what water looks like as it flows over your body?” he asked. “Perhaps you’d like to have me describe how it runs over your breasts or down your back?” He touched the hollow at the base of her throat with his tongue. “While you were in the shower I imagined myself licking the water that gathered here. . . .” He moved to her shoulder as the robe opened farther and touched his tongue there, too. “And here . . .” This time he showed her with his hands as he moved the robe aside, circled her waist, and touched the small of her back. “And here . . .” His voice grew husky with wanting her.

  “You could have joined me,” she said.

  “And now?”

  “Now is good, too.”

  “Do you want to eat first?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  He smiled. “Yes, I am.”

  He followed her up the stairs, to the room she told him had been her mother’s. He took the protection he’d brought with him out of his pocket before he laid his jeans over a chair. When he joined her under the covers, the bed softly protested his added weight. “Are you cold?” he asked when he took her into his arms again.

  “Not now.” She looked into his eyes. “With you in my life, I don’t think I will ever be cold again.”

  “You’re giving me a lot of power, Karla. I’m just a man—one who loves you more than you’ve ever been loved, or ever will be loved—but still just a man.” He brushed the damp hair from her forehead with his fingers. “If I were more I would move the mountain you didn’t want to climb and arrange for sunshine when you grew tired of rain . . . and I would make Anna well again.”

  As much as he ached for his own pleasure, he wanted to please her more. He wanted them to be old lovers so that he already knew where to touch her, to be at that level where he’d discovered the secret parts of her sexuality she hadn’t known existed herself, where her excitement reached a place not even imagined until they’d discovered it together. He wanted that now because he wanted to give her a night that would make her forget, if only for the moment, all the pain that had gone before.

  “That we found each other, that you love me, is miracle enough,” she said.

  “Miracles are for things that are difficult, maybe even impossible, they have nothing to do with how I feel about you. Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done, it’s as natural for me as breathing. You’ve become a part of me, Karla, as integral as my hand, as impossible to do without as my heart.”

  He pressed a whispered kiss to the tip of her nose, to her cheeks, and then to her lips. Nearly overwhelmed with her thoughts and feelings, Karla closed her eyes to hold in her tears of joy. Her father may have been right about the poets not finding words to describe how she felt about Mark, but Mark had found the words that she needed to hear, the ones to touch her soul and make it sing with happiness.

  “I love you,” she said against his lips as he kissed her again.

  “Tell me again.”

  “I love you.”

  “Again.”

  “And again, and again,” she said. “For the rest of my life.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that, you know.”

  She knew as powerfully, as clearly, as she knew the North Star was in the sky outside her bedroom window that Mark would be at her side through all the good and bad that was ahead for them, that he would love her knowing her strengths and weaknesses, and would bring her the happiness she’d believed only existed in her mind.

  “Thank you for loving me,” she said.

  He kissed the corners of her mouth. “You can’t give me what you’ve given me and thank me, too. It’s not the way things are done. I suppose I could reciprocate by thanking you for coming into my life. But then maybe Anna is the one I should thank. I have a feeling she had more to do with us finding each other than we’ll ever know.”

  “She would never admit it, but I think you may be right.” It also wouldn’t surprise her to learn one day that Anna had had a little help. She didn’t know about Heather’s DNA thing, but she’d come to understand there was a definite, powerful connection between the women in her family, both past and present. An unseen hand had guided her home—back to Anna, forward to Mark.

  “Karla?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m through talking.”

  She smiled. “I was beginning to wonder.”

  “Well, wonder no more.” He covered her mouth in a kiss that burned a path to her toes. Unerringly he followed that same path with his hand and then his lips. By the time he’d found her mouth again and was moving inside her in a hard, demanding rhythm, her mind was lost to everything but her own building need. She cried out when she climaxed, then caught her breath as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

  Afterwards Mark cradled her in his arms and gently plied her with questions. He wanted to know her favorite color, and time of day, and meal. He asked dumb things, like if she were a flower which one she would be, and hard ones, like where she’d been when she heard about her parents’ accident.

  Hearing her stomach growl, he made her stay in bed while he fixed them a snack and brought it upstairs. They ate and made love again, only stopping when Mark had to leave to pick up Cindy.

  Karla was smiling when she went to bed that night. As she felt herself being pulled into the depths of sleep, the last thing she heard was her mother softly saying, “Have a good life, sweetheart.”

  Chapter

  29

  Karla was halfway out the door when the phone rang the next morning. It was Jim.

  “Is she gone?” he asked.

  “Is who gone?” Karla was so surprised to hear his voice she didn’t immediately connect to the question.

  “Anna.”

  “What makes you think—”

  “I went by the shop to find you, and when I saw that it was closed I thought you were up there because . . . Never mind, it’s not important what I thought.”

  “Anna had a heart attack.” She was pleased that he’d cared enough to call to check on her. “She’s going to be all right, but it was pretty awful there for a while.”

  “You should have called me. I would have come up to take care of things for you again.”

  “I tried, several times, but you were never at home and it wasn’t something I wanted to leave on voice mail.”

  “Well, I’m here now. What do you want
me to do?”

  “I don’t know if there’s anything you can do. Everything is in such a mess there.” She quickly explained how she’d let everything slide while she was at Heather’s and that she had no real idea what it would take to get the shop up and running again.

  “Why don’t I check things out and get back to you. You said Tonya has the keys?”

  “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be gone—through Christmas at least. You and Amy must have plans.”

  “I’ll talk to her, and if it’s a problem, we’ll work around it.”

  “Why are you doing this for me?”

  “That’s my Karla, never accept anything at face value.”

  “I’m not like that,” she told him, knowing in her heart he was right.

  “You didn’t used to be, at least not when we first met. I’m afraid you’ve got me to thank for the change. I’m sorry I did that to you.”

  She thought about what she would say next, wanting to understand her reasons before she told him about Mark. “I’ve met someone, Jim.”

  There was a long pause. “I’m happy for you. Really, happy, Karla, not the lip service kind. I only hope he deserves you.”

  “I’ll tell you more later. Right now I’m on my way to the hospital.”

  “When can I reach you about the shop?”

  “Tonight. Try me around seven. And thank you—your doing this takes a big worry off my shoulders.”

  “You’re welcome. I only wish I could do more.”

  Karla was at the hospital before she realized she hadn’t asked Jim if he’d found his own shop yet.

  Karla arrived at Anna’s from the hospital that night to find Mark and Cindy on the porch waiting for her, a Christmas tree leaning against the railing. Cindy came bounding down the stairs and into Karla’s arms as soon as she got out of the car.

  “We brung a surprise,” she said. “And Daddy said we could have pizza for dinner. And I made a new picture for Anna. Daddy said maybe I could go to the hospital to see her and give it to her myself as soon as she’s not in the really sick place anymore.”