“Dad had been let go from the mill the year before—remember?—and, other than doing some odd jobs for people, he was unemployed all that time. Then a couple of weeks after I had left, he got a phone call from the personnel department at town hall. Actually, from Laura’s father—offering him a job in the public works department.”
Clare was astonished. “Laura’s father? But…Laura never mentioned that to me at all. You’d think she might have.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know. Anyway, Dad thought it strange because those jobs were hard to get. Getting a phone call out of the blue like that was nothing short of miraculous for my parents. It made a huge difference in their lives, especially later, when Mom’s health deteriorated and their medical bills doubled.”
Clare thought back to her conversation with Laura about Gil’s father, recalling the surprise Laura herself had expressed over the job. “So did Laura’s father say anything to you about it at your father’s funeral?”
Gil shook his head. “Not at all. I don’t think Mr. Dundas is the type of person to…you know…lord it over someone about a favor.”
“I just wonder what motivated him? I mean, he and your parents scarcely knew one another. Or am I wrong about that?”
“No, you’re absolutely right. That’s what made it seem even more peculiar. But as my dad said, ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.’ He jumped at the offer.”
“Of course.” Clare gazed out the passenger window, thinking about how all of their lives took such different directions that summer. Not only hers and Gil’s, but her mother’s. Now Gil’s father was part of the pattern, too.
“So what did you think about Stan Wolochuk?” she asked, breaking the spell of memories that had fallen over them.
“A sad man,” Gil said. “Can it get any worse for him?”
“I hope not, for his sake. But I know what you mean. After we got into that shabby living room, I felt so awful. I realized he could ill afford to buy my book, but he had. And when I realized we were there to cause more grief for him about Jason, I just wanted to leave right away.”
“I could see that. It was odd that he’d forgotten about the quarrel with Rina. Did you believe him?”
“I guess. It was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, but we were talking about the day she was killed. You’d think the argument would have registered a lot more.” Gil checked his rearview mirror and changed lanes. “Do you know if the police questioned him about it?”
“I doubt it. I mean, they probably didn’t even know about it.”
“You and I were the only ones who did,” Gil said.
Clare paused. He knew because Rina had told him while they were talking on the football field. She wanted to ask him about that, but was afraid of spoiling the easy mood between them. “I guess,” was all she said and devoted the next few minutes to staring out the passenger-side window at the passing countryside.
Then Gil broke the silence. “I’ve been thinking about what Jason said. I know Wolochuk denied his argument with his wife was about your book, but maybe what we should do is go through it together and look for anything that might have set them off.”
“There isn’t anything,” Clare said, looking across at him. “He’s not in my book. It’s not about Rina Thomas,” she said, wondering how many times she’d have to repeat that all too familiar sentence.
“But some of your own personal thoughts—insights, whatever you want to call them—are there. We’ve missed something.” He locked eyes with her for a second before turning back to his driving. “I think we should go over what we both recall of that day. I know we’ve already tried that, but I think we should give it another shot. It’s important.” He paused. “Are you with me?” he said when she didn’t answer.
He wanted her to say yes, she realized, so she did and offered to take notes while Gil started. That would put her in the position of commenting on what he said, rather than the other way around. She pulled a notepad from her purse and waited for him to begin.
“I hung around that day after baseball practice, hoping you’d soon come along, but then Rina came running out of the school. She was crying and ranting about Mr. Wolochuk. I tried to calm her and next thing she was in my arms. We hugged until she relaxed. I’d been keeping my eye on the back door but I must have missed you when you finally came out.”
Clare focused on the notepad on her lap but was really seeing the scene all over again.
“I knew I couldn’t leave Rina like that,” Gil continued, “and I also remembered that you’d said you might be late and to go ahead if I had to wait too long. I made a judgment call and told Rina I’d walk her to her friend’s house so she could call home for a ride. She’d missed the bus.” After a minute, he added, “It was a decision I later regretted.”
Clare tapped her pen against her lower lip and stared out the passenger window. She’d stopped writing when he’d mentioned his judgment call, thinking he wasn’t the only person who regretted his decision. She didn’t trust herself to speak, waiting for him to go on.
“While we walked toward the ravine, she started telling me about her Chemistry mark and how she wasn’t going to get a scholarship. Her parents couldn’t afford to help her out, and she was afraid if she had to work for a year, she might end up not going to college at all. There wasn’t much I could do, except listen. When we got to the bridge—you remember the old wooden bridge we used as a shortcut across the river?—she suddenly said she wanted to stay there a bit. Do some thinking. That surprised me because she was a lot calmer, but…well, it was typical of Rina to change her mind for no apparent reason.”
You should know. She played with the pen, wishing he’d hurry and finish.
“She seemed okay so I said goodbye and promised to see her the next day. When I paused halfway across the bridge to wave to her, she wasn’t even looking my way.”
The Twin Falls sign appeared on the side of the highway and Clare stared blankly at it, as if seeing it for the very first time. She’d given up all pretence of taking notes and waited for Gil to continue. When he failed to, she turned his way. His eyes were fixed on the windshield, but Clare suspected that, like her, he was looking at another scene entirely.
CHAPTER TWELVE
WHEN GIL FINISHED speaking, a silence as heavy as the past itself fell over the car. As they passed the town limits sign he sneaked a look at Clare. She was absorbed in the scenery outside her window. Either that or she was trapped in memories, as he was. It was her turn, but Gil hesitated to remind her. He was beginning to think none of this had been a good idea. Exploring ancient history was intended for hardier souls, he figured. Right now, he questioned whether he and Clare were up to the task.
He drove automatically to the Kingsway home and it wasn’t until they were a block away that Clare finally spoke up, her voice trembling. “I know it’s my turn, Gil, but I doubt I can get through it before we arrive at Dave and Laura’s place. And if they see the car out front, I’m sure they’ll want us to come in.”
“Then what say we go to my place? We can take as long as we want and order in some food or go out later.” When she hesitated, he added, “Unless you don’t feel up for it. I could just drop you off and call you tomorrow.”
She looked away and sighed, as if coming to a difficult decision. “No, we should finish what we’ve started.”
A crazy idea occurred to him to offer her a place at his parents.’ There were still two beds there. Rough accommodation compared to what she was getting at the Kingsways’ but cheaper than a hotel. But as soon as the thought flashed in his mind, Gil dismissed it. Too problematic for both of us. “So what would you like to do?” he prompted.
She swung her head toward him. “Let’s go to your place and take it from there.”
He looked at her a few more seconds, trying to decipher the expression in her eyes but couldn’t. At least she’d made the right choice. They had to finish what they’d begun. When he stopped at the intersection leadi
ng to the Kingsways’, he turned in the opposite direction.
They were walking up the concrete strip of sidewalk to his front porch when Clare said, “I should phone Laura when we get inside and tell her I’m back. She’ll want to know if I’m going to be there for dinner.”
“Sure. You can use my cell phone.” Gil unlocked the front door and stood aside for her to enter.
“Want anything to drink?” he asked. “Coffee? Juice? Soda?”
“Water would be great. Then we should get to work.” She unbuttoned her trench coat.
“Here, I’ll hang that up for you.” As he helped her off with it, his knuckles brushed against the back of her neck. He froze, mesmerized by the memory of that slender neck. He wanted desperately to touch her there, to stroke her soft white skin and press his lips against those downy copper hairs. He remembered the first time he’d done just that, lifting aside the end of her long ponytail and, hesitantly at first, kissing the nape of her neck. She’d shivered. Spurred on by her low moan of pleasure, he’d moved from her neck to throat and down to the tiny hollow at the opened neck of her shirt.
“Something wrong?”
Gil shook himself out of his trance. “I thought your coat was caught on something.” He whisked the coat off her shoulders and took it to the hall closet on his way to the kitchen. Her footsteps echoed behind him.
“Didn’t we try to do this the other day?” she quipped when she came into the room.
Glass in hand, he turned from the counter. He realized what she meant when he saw her nod toward the writing supplies on the table. “Maybe we’ll have better luck the second time around,” he said.
He saw at once that she’d picked up on his double meaning. The silence in the room was thick enough to touch. Gil kept his eyes on hers, but what he was really seeing was the seventeen-year-old Clare, standing awkwardly in the shadowy corner of his bedroom. He remembered how quickly their clothes had come off then they’d stopped suddenly, aware of the significance of the next step. He’d guessed that she was having second thoughts and he waited, giving her a chance to back out if she wanted to. But then that tanalizing smile of hers lit up the dark room as she’d moved slowly toward him. He shivered, thinking of that first cool touch of her body against his.
“You okay?” Clare asked, looking up at him from the same chair as the other day, her notepad open in front of her.
Gil nodded and took the glass of water to the table. “Before I forget,” he said, avoiding her gaze, “I’ll get my cell phone and you can give Laura a call.” He dashed into the hall for the phone, tucked in his jacket pocket, and brought it back to her. Thinking she might want some privacy, he left the kitchen to hover in the hall until she was finished.
“Laura was okay with the hotel,” Clare said when he returned. “I think she realizes that one less person underfoot will be a good thing. I promised to pick up my things from there before dinner.” She peered down at the watch on her wrist. “We’ve still got a couple more hours so that shouldn’t be a problem. Is that okay with you?”
Gil hesitated. Should he offer his place or not? He thought of his reaction to the brief skin contact with her and decided against it. Staying alone in the same house together was just too damn risky. He couldn’t trust himself to keep his distance. Her scent, the richness of that throaty laugh and intensity of her amber-flecked gaze would all be serious impediments to his peace of mind. Not to mention his determination to rectify all that had gone wrong between them so he could start anew with Clare Morgan.
“I guess I should begin,” she was saying, her full lips breaking into an indulgent smile as if she’d known exactly where his mind had wandered.
“That day when Rina charged into Mr. Wolochuk’s office I was working on my chemistry experiment. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but she was obviously upset. Her face was red and she was shouting at him. That’s what really held my attention. You know, as difficult as Rina could be with teachers, I’d never seen her behave like that. And he just took it! That surprised me, too. I mean, he looked angry and was red in the face, too. But he didn’t kick her out or anything. I must admit, my curiosity got the better of me and I watched the whole thing. After a few minutes, she charged out, slamming the door behind her.” Clare stopped to drink some water.
He saw that she was nervous and wondered why. “Then what?” he asked.
“I completed my write-up but when I was ready to leave, I saw that Mr. Wolochuk wasn’t in his office. I didn’t see him leave and didn’t know where he went. I was…well, hoping to meet up with you so instead of waiting for him, I went into his office and put my assignment on his desk. His briefcase was still on the floor so I figured he was in the school somewhere.”
Her eyes drifted back down to the notepad on the table. Gil stifled his impatience. Finally she raised her eyes again, a thin smile playing on her lips. “I was putting my paper on his desk when I saw Rina’s name at the top of another assignment. I’m ashamed to say that I pulled it out of the pile of papers he’d been marking so that I could see what grade she’d received. It was a failure and I figured that was what the shouting had been about.” Her shoulders lifted as she took a deep breath.
She was getting to the part that made her nervous and Gil was guessing why. It was the basis of the accusation she’d thrown at him the last time they saw one another all those years ago. The night when they met in the park at John Calvin’s statue and she told him she never wanted to see him again. He considered making it easier for her but decided it might be better for both of them to have the whole ugly mess out in the open.
She went on, this time directing her attention to a point beyond him. “When I got outside, I saw you and Rina hugging each other on the playing field. I was shocked and waited a few seconds, thinking you might look my way. But you didn’t. Then you both started walking across the field toward the ravine and that’s when I decided to take the long route home, through town.”
He didn’t say anything. She’d already heard his version of events and now knew he had been hugging Rina not in passion, but to comfort her.
Eventually she made eye contact again. “So that’s it. I—I see now that I made a mistake then and uh…I want you to know I wouldn’t have behaved the way I did if I’d known—”
“It’s okay,” he interrupted. “All water under the bridge. Isn’t that how the saying goes?” After all these years, he didn’t want her apology. What did it matter now, anyway? Hadn’t both of them gone on with their lives? He had no idea of her current relationship status. His own disastrous attempts to find a person who could instill in him the same passion and zest that Clare once did had failed, but that was hardly her fault.
Her eyes flicked away from his, down to her lap. When she finally raised them, they seemed distant and detached. Gil had a sudden feeling that he’d missed an opportunity. He uttered a silent epithet.
“So what is there—in that whole story—that could have led the Wolochuks to argue about my book?” Clare asked.
“Maybe Jason was lying,” he said. “We should consider that. Certainly Stan denied any quarrel. We could always go back to see his wife.”
Clare grimaced. My sentiments exactly, Gil thought.
“We need to get hold of some official information,” she said. “So far we’ve only got our memories of that day but they’re not leading us anywhere.”
She had a damn good point, Gil realized. They were like lab rats navigating a maze for the first time. Official information. Only the police had that. “Beth Moffatt,” he said.
She frowned. “Who?”
“Remember my old friend we met when we went to see Carelli? The secretary, Beth?”
“And?”
“She has access to official records, doesn’t she?”
Clare’s eyes widened. “Yes, but…wouldn’t that be illegal?”
“What?”
“Asking her to give them to you?”
“Definitely. However, I was thinking of as
king her to photocopy them for us. You know, as part of the Freedom of Information Act. Only—” he paused, grinning “—I’d be taking a bit of a shortcut by not going through official channels.”
She thought for a long moment. “Okay. That gives me an idea, too. Maybe I can get hold of my mother’s personnel records and find out more about why she was let go from the bank.”
“Why don’t you call her right now?” He pushed the cell phone across the table. “I’ve got some labeling to do on the boxes I’m sending to Hartford tomorrow.” Gil got to his feet and headed for the doorway.
As he reached it, she said, “Thanks Gil, for doing this with me. In spite of my earlier hesitation, I really think we’re going to finally resolve some…some things.” She dropped her gaze to the phone in her hand.
Gil nodded. Resolve some things. About bloody time.
CLARE STARED out the car window at the Kingsway home. She and Gil were picking up her suitcase and then he was taking her to the Falls View Hotel. Fortunately, they had a vacancy. There’d been a moment at Gil’s house, when she’d been afraid that he was going to suggest she stay there. Afraid, she had to admit, because the idea wouldn’t have been so inconceivable. The pleasure she’d felt in his company the last couple of days had to be a sign that they were managing to forget about the past at least some of the time. But, she reminded herself, establishing a kind of friendship with him was her goal, not attempting to revive a relationship that existed seventeen years ago.
“Should I come in, too?” Gil suddenly asked.
She turned her head. “Laura will think it odd if you don’t.”
He pursed his lips. “True. But what about you? Want some moral support with our account of the day? I’m sure they’ll ask.”
She hadn’t considered that, but he was right. No way would Laura let her slip off to a hotel without learning what had transpired from their meeting with Stan Wolochuk. “Yes,” she said. “That’s a good idea.”
Past, Present and a Future (Going Back) Page 16