He didn’t like stringing anybody along, especially a single mother with a load of problems, but it had to be done. Funny. In a way he liked her, too. Wasn’t physical, she wouldn’t have attracted him even if he didn’t love Annalisa so much. But she had those pretty eyes, that direct way of looking at you. And a direct way of talking, no b.s., nothing hidden. He admired that. It was how he’d been, tried to be anyway, before all the hurt and suffering. Now he had to make compromises, like it or not. For Annalisa’s sake.
Caitlin Koski. Another one who’d been hurt plenty in her life, and not just from being smacked around by some asshole’s big fists. Look at her up close, spend a few minutes with her, you could see the scars. He felt sorry for her. Liked and felt sorry for the sister of the man who’d nearly killed his wife. Crazy, wasn’t it?
Maybe not. Caidin hadn’t been in Denver that snowy January night. Wasn’t her fault. She’d suffer some for it in the end, couldn’t be helped, but not too much—she wasn’t close to Gallagher. Wouldn’t be anything like Annalisa’s suffering. Or his.
He shook his head, driving, thinking about all this. Should feel pretty good, getting the night hauling job for good wages, getting the house at the river, getting close to paying Gallagher back. But right now he didn’t, much.
Sad. That was how he felt right now.
Kind of sorry-sad that there had to be so much hurting for almost everybody in this life.
32
Over the next couple of weeks Cam worked hard at being Somebody. Mr. Rock-Solid, Mr. Normal, Mr. Good Husband, Father, Provider. He spent long hours at the office, and the fact that Jenna neither called nor e-mailed him made it easier to stay focused. The one time she phoned PWS on business, she’d asked specifically for Maureen.
He quit playing hunted man, studying faces and watching for blue Mazdas. He eased off on his drinking. He made love to Hallie with renewed vigor, easin’ round the side each time to keep the damn jockey out of their bed. He went to Leah’s pre-Thanksgiving dance recital—she had an eight-year-old’s unshakable certainty that she was destined to be a great ballerina—without having to be coaxed. He bought Shannon the new computer she’d been lobbying for for months (she wanted to be a software development engineer). He made arrangements to attend a four-day wine festival in San Diego in early February with Hallie, not telling her so he could spring it as a surprise when the time came.
Even the weather cooperated. Late fall had always been his favorite time of year, and the last half of November was particularly nice this year. Sunshine and cloudless skies, most days, even on Thanksgiving. And the leaves turning in the vineyards a brighter, shinier red-gold than usual, as if they’d been sprayed with lacquer. The prospect of winter didn’t seem quite as bleak as it had. The predicted two hundred inches of El Niño-spawned rainfall seemed an empty threat, the stuff of doomsayers and the disaster-hungry media.
The nightmares left him alone; so did the more severe headaches. He seemed to have more energy. He even began to look forward to Christmas and all its trappings with a kidlike exuberance.
There hadn’t been much joy in Christmas when Rose Adams Gallagher was above ground. His father had tried to make the Yuletide season festive for Caitlin and him, six-foot trees groaning under the weight of ornaments and lights and tinsel, mounds of presents, caroling with and for the neighbors. But Rose had invariably found ways to spoil the good times. Complaints, snide little digs (“You don’t need a pair of roller skates, Cameron, you’re so clumsy you’d probably break a leg”), fits of pique when she didn’t get her way, booze-provoked quarrels that led to shouting matches. The last holiday before she died, she’d turned up missing at the family’s traditional Christmas Eve gathering; went off somewhere in the early afternoon—to celebrate with one of her boyfriends, no doubt—didn’t come home until long after everyone was in bed, never explained or apologized to him or Caitlin; Paul had told them she’d been visiting a sick friend, but it had been such a bitter and obvious lie that Cam hadn’t believed it for a second.
The Christmases afterward hadn’t been much better. Aunt Ida and Uncle Frank had tried, but they’d been childless before and were resentful of being saddled with two young kids, ashamed that the kids were issue of a murderer and the town slut, and the combination of resentment and shame had made growing up in their Paloma Valley house an experience without much laughter or fun, even on holidays. He’d vowed that his own children would not have that cross to bear, and he’d kept the promise. Even during his worst periods of depression, Shannon and Leah had had happy Christmases, Easters, Thanksgivings.
One day at a time. He’d tried that philosophy before; now, at least for the present, it was working—he was almost the Somebody he longed to be.
One day at a time.
33
“Mom Foster? It’s Nick.”
“Nick! Lord, it’s good to hear your voice.”
“Yours, too. Guess it’s been a while.”
“Too long. We’ve been worried about you.”
“No need. I’m taking care of myself.”
“Where are you, honey?”
“California.”
“California’s a big place.”
“Little town out here. Mom, how’s Annalisa?”
“…Oh, Nick. She … I wish…”
“Is she any better?”
“No … the same. Same as before.”
“I miss her so much, I had to call.”
“I know you do. So do we.”
“What do the doctors say?”
“Oh, they… you know how doctors are.”
“But they’re still hopeful, right?”
“Yes. Still hopeful.”
“Does she recognize you and Pop yet?”
“No. She … no.”
“Does she say anything at all?”
“No.”
“Can she feed herself, get out of bed?”
“No. Nick, honey …”
“Insurance hasn’t run out or anything yet?”
“Not yet, no.”
“So the money situation’s okay?”
“Yes.”
“You sure? I can send you some if—”
“It’s all right, Nick. We have plenty of money.”
“Well, that’s good. How’s Pop?”
“He’s the same. You know Pop.”
“Still working ten hours a day at the store?”
“And more. It helps keep his mind off… you know.”
“How about you? You doing okay?”
“Managing. I wish Pop were here, I know he’d like to talk to you. Why don’t you call him at the store?”
“Maybe I will.”
“Or I’ll have him call you. What’s your number there?”
“Public phone, Mom, like always.”
“Nick… why don’t you come see us? Come home?”
“That’s one of the reasons I called. I am coming home.”
“Oh! That’s wonderful news. When?”
“Middle of January, about, if everything works out.”
“How do you mean, everything?”
“Some things I have to take care of.”
“What things?”
“For Annalisa and me. Things that’ll help her get better.”
“Can’t you tell me what they are?”
“Not now. They’re private, Mom.”
“Couldn’t you come for Christmas? We’d love to have you here for the holidays.”
“I’m working two jobs. I couldn’t swing it.”
“What sort of jobs? You don’t mind my asking?”
“No, I don’t mind. Driving jobs. One of them pays pretty well, but I’ve got some expenses.”
“Is there anything you need? Anything we can send you?”
“Annalisa is all I need. Annalisa to get well …Mom? You crying? I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“It… I’m all right. It’s not you, honey.”
“Don’t feel bad. She’ll get well. She wil
l. You have to believe that as much as I do. Don’t ever stop believing it.”
“Nick?”
“Yes, Mom?”
“We pray for you. Every day Pop and I pray for you.”
“That’s good, but Annalisa’s the one who needs your prayers. All our prayers. Pray for her, okay?”
“I do. You know I do.”
“Sure, I know.”
“Will you call Pop now? Talk to him?”
“Maybe not right away. I’ve got to work tonight.”
“Nick…”
“In a few days. When I can.”
“When will I hear from you again?”
“Christmas, maybe. Before the middle of January.”
“And you will come home then? Promise?”
“If I’ve done what needs to be done by then.”
“Can’t you just give me a hint what—”
“Good-bye, Mom. Give Annalisa all my love. And don’t stop praying for her.”
34
The message to call John Lacey at Riverbank Realty was waiting when Cam returned from lunch on the first day of December. Some damn fool decided to rent the place after all, he thought. He called Lacey back, but not until he’d dealt with two other messages and signed a batch of letters Gretchen, his secretary and receptionist, had left on his desk.
“Have you spoken to your sister recently, Mr. Gallagher?”
“No, I haven’t. Why?”
“Well, she’s found a tenant for the house.”
“She has?”
“Yes. She called this morning and asked me to draw up the rental agreement.”
A note of disapproval in Lacey’s voice prompted Cam to ask, “Is there some problem with that?”
“Not exactly a problem. It’s just that she made the arrangements herself, without consulting with me. Or with you, evidently. And she wants to waive the security deposit.”
“For what reason?”
“She wouldn’t give a reason, except that she personally vouches for the renter.”
“Renter. One person, for a house that size?”
“That’s right. A man named Hendryx, Nicholas Hendryx.”
“I see.”
“Do you know him, Mr. Gallagher?”
“The name isn’t familiar, no.”
“His current address is South City Apartments, Los Alegres.”
South City Apartments was a fancy name for the semisleazy auto court down near the freeway. Terrific.
“What does he do for a living?” Cam asked.
“Two places of employment,” Lacey said. “Goodwill Industries and North County Poultry Processors. Works as a truck driver for both.”
“How long has he been in the area?”
“Less than a month.”
“Have you met him? Spoken to him?”
“Neither. Mrs. Koski said it wasn’t necessary, that she’d bring him in to sign the agreement when it’s ready.”
“Do you know anything else about him?”
Lacey didn’t. Nick Hendryx had no local ties, no family he was planning to have live with him, no credit rating. His only references were Caitlin and his current employers. The employers spoke well of him, but as Lacey pointed out, less than a month on the job wasn’t much of a test of dependability. Not enough for the security deposit on the house to be waived.
“Was she adamant about that?” Cam asked. “Waiving the deposit?”
“Yes. Very.”
“I suppose Hendryx wants to move in immediately.”
“On the fifteenth.”
“All right,” Cam said. “I’ll talk to my sister and get back to you, probably tomorrow.”
“You do understand my reluctance? The property is a difficult rental, particularly at this time of year and with the El Niño business, but under the circumstances …”
“I understand, John, and I appreciate the call. You’ll hear from me soon.”
Ah, Caitlin, he thought as he hung up, why won’t you ever learn?
HE CALLED HER as soon as he got home.
“I figured I’d hear from you tonight,” she said. “Lacey called you, right?”
“Why did I have to hear it from him, Cat?”
“I don’t need to ask your permission to rent my house.”
“Our house.”
“You don’t give a shit about it. I do.”
“This man Hendryx. Is he somebody you know personally?”
“What difference does that make?”
“I’m just curious. He hasn’t been in the area long—”
“Why don’t you just come out and ask me if I’m sleeping with him?”
“Cat, don’t make this any more difficult—”
“You’re the one who’s making it difficult. I’m not sleeping with Nick, but maybe I will. Soon.”
He smothered a sigh. “What about Hal? What does he think about this?”
“Hal’s history. Two weeks gone and already forgotten.”
“What happened?”
“Next question,” she said.
“Okay, fine. Tell me about Hendryx.”
“He’s a nice guy, he works hard, and I like him. That’s all you need to know.”
“Why does he want to live at the river? He works two jobs down here, and it’s a longish commute.”
“That’s his business, not yours.”
“The house is my business, Cat. Whose idea was it to waive the security deposit?”
“Mine.”
“But he suggested it.”
“No, I suggested it. He offered to pay the deposit, went out and got a second job so he could afford to pay it, but I said no.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I told you, he’s a nice guy and I like him.”
“Then why not just move him in with you and Teddy? Why does he need a big house like that all to himself?”
Silence.
“Caitlin?”
“You’re an asshole, big brother, you know that? Sometimes you’re the world’s biggest asshole.”
“I’m only trying to look out for your best interests—”
“Here we go again. Same old bullshit.”
“All right, it’s bullshit.” Clash and conflict, every time he spoke to her. Exasperation made him say, “I can put a stop to this, you know. Rental agreement has to have both our signatures.”
She said, “You do that, and you’ll regret it,” in a voice as cold and hard as he’d ever heard her use. “I mean that, Cameron.”
“Nick Hendryx must’ve really gotten to you.”
“If he has, it’s my doing, not his. And not in the way you think. He’s not Gus or Hal or any of the others. He’s different.”
“How is he different?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“No. Are you going to sign the agreement?”
“I’d like to meet him first.”
“No.”
“Why don’t you leave that up to him?”
“I said no. The house is empty, and I want it rented to Nick Hendryx. Period. Are you going to sign the agreement?”
He didn’t want to argue with her anymore. Aggravation, sadness, a sense of loss—they were all his dealings with Caitlin ever seemed to bring him. “If it’ll make you happy,” he said.
“What’ll make me happy is you not giving me crap all the time.”
“That’s not my intention, Cat. I hate us always being at each other’s throats.”
“You think I like it?”
“Why can’t we be good to each other?”
“Good? What’s good? You tell me.”
He took a breath before he spoke again. “Hallie and the girls and I would like you and Teddy to spend Christmas Eve with us this year. I thought I’d invite you this far in advance so—”
“Sorry,” she said. “Other plans,” she said, and the line began an empty buzzing in his ear.
35
Six o’clock Tuesday night. Nick was get
ting ready to head out, eat supper, go for a night ride, when somebody knocked on the door. Court manager or one of his neighbors—who else? He went over and opened up.
Gallagher was standing there.
Cameron fucking Gallagher, right there in front of him.
He stared, and Gallagher stared. Like they’d both come face to face with something unexpected, something out of the dark. Nick went cold and empty at first. Couldn’t think, couldn’t figure how Gallagher knew where to find him, what he was doing here. Days since he’d seen him. Too busy with Caitlin and the two jobs to do much trailing.
Gallagher said in a voice jammed with surprise, “You’re the man who—” The rest of it didn’t come out. He made a sound in his throat. “Are you Nick Hendryx?”
All of a sudden Nick filled with heat and a wild urge to grab Gallagher by the throat, choke him until he turned black. His hands twitched; he had to slap them down hard against his sides. His face had a tight, frozen feel, as if, if he moved a single muscle in it, it’d crack like glass.
Again, “Nick Hendryx?”
“That’s right.” Words pumped loose with only his throat moving, not his mouth. “Who’re you?”
“Cameron Gallagher. I’ve seen you before.”
“That so?”
“In the Hotel Paloma bar. About a month ago.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised. I get around.”
“I… was with a woman named Jenna Bailey.”
“So?”
“Do you know her?”
“No.”
“The blue Mazda there. Yours?”
“What if it is?”
“I was just… You don’t know me?”
“Said I didn’t.” Had himself under control now. Wouldn’t crack and put his hands on Gallagher. Later. Later. “Listen, what do you want? You selling something?”
“No. I came to… I’m Caitlin Koski’s brother.”
“Oh, so that’s it.”
“She didn’t send me, if that’s what you’re thinking. It was my idea.”
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