by Susan Wiggs
“No,” he said, putting the truck in reverse. “You’re not.” Things would be easier if she was.
He headed west on the river road, the wipers thumping rapidly across the windshield.
“Where are you going?”
“We’ve got an hour to talk,” he said, ignoring her question. “So talk.”
He could feel her glare as she clicked her seat belt in place. “Charlie’s in trouble. Fighting about it for an hour isn’t going to solve anything.”
He glanced over at her and saw no trace of sarcasm in her expression.
“Then let’s not fight.” He wondered if she heard the weariness in his voice. It was exhausting, trying to figure out what to do with a love gone wrong, especially when kids were involved.
With sullen reluctance, the rain let up and finally stopped altogether. Derek turned off the river road and drove up the ramp to the highway. Here at the coast road, the sun was trying to peek through the broody, black-bellied clouds over the churning sea.
The view was spectacular no matter how many times he saw it. He and Sean had grown up in Comfort, and on the weekends they liked to come out to the coast to hang out on the beach or play a round of golf at the seaside links course. As they grew older and went up to Portland for college, they continued to come out here. The highway department’s scenic vista pullout was the perfect place to bring girls for make-out sessions.
The first time he’d dated Crystal, he’d brought her here. It was no accident that he’d chosen the spot today.
He maneuvered the truck along the winding road, finding it deserted except for the occasional darting squirrel or deer heading pointlessly from one side of the road to another. The economic recession had hit the county hard, and its budget troubles showed in the condition of the road. Potholes were patched here and there, guardrails were down or missing altogether. The shoulder of the road was collapsing in places from mudslides. The macadam surface was slick and he could feel the tires of the truck trying to hydroplane. In the burgeoning sunlight, wisps of steam rose from the wet pavement.
Derek tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t lead to a fight. An impossible task with Crystal these days. She was as fragile and brittle as her name implied, and the slightest upset could cause her to shatter. However, with Charlie in trouble, they had a difficult conversation ahead of them.
“So,” he said at last, “what do you make of our conference with your friend?”
“Lily was speaking to us in her capacity as Charlie’s teacher,” she said, “not as my friend. And to be honest, I’m actually glad to have Charlie’s problems out in the open. It’s time to stop fooling ourselves. From our first meeting with Lily last September, it’s been clear that Charlie’s way behind the curve. Now we need to figure out what to do.”
“Charlie never had any problems until Lily’s class.” Derek gritted his teeth. That was going to piss Crystal off. Too bad. This was about Charlie. His daughter, his heart.
“Oh, so you think Lily is the cause of Charlie stealing and being behind in school? Lily is the best teacher our kids have ever had.”
He pulled off at the scenic vista. For a moment, he flashed on a vivid memory of the first time he’d brought Crystal here. She was his beauty queen from Beaverton, he was a hot stick striving for his PGA card and they were in love. She gave up her crown for him and he’d vowed to leave his party-animal ways behind. Their future was golden.
That golden future had been tarnished by the patina of time, of betrayal, of all the myriad strains of trying to stay on his game.
“I’m saying you might want to consider the idea that Lily could actually be part of the problem.”
“That would be so much easier than considering the idea that you might be part of the problem.” She caught his glare and amended, “All right, maybe we’re both part of it. I trust Lily implicitly. When she taught Cameron seven years ago, you had no complaints about her. He flourished in her class.”
“Cameron is a no-brainer. A monkey could have educated him. He was the perfect kid.” Derek wondered if his son knew he thought that. Only this morning, they’d had their usual fight over the usual topic—golf.
“What’s that face?” Crystal asked. She could still read him like a rule book.
“Cam’s pissed at me again,” Derek confessed. “He doesn’t want to play in the tournament this weekend. I don’t get it. He’s a brilliant golfer.” He thumped his hand on the steering wheel. “Maybe he was just trying to get a rise out of me. In fact, now that the rain’s stopped, he’s probably hitting a bucket of balls for practice. Kid can’t stay away from the game.”
“Which shows how much you know about your son,” Crystal said.
“Now you’re telling me he doesn’t like golf.”
“He likes you. He thinks he has to play golf so you’ll give him the time of day.”
“That’s shit.” Derek thought about the strained conversation he’d had with Cameron that morning. The strain had flared into out-and-out hostility from both sides. Somehow, battling his son brought out the worst in him. “I can’t believe he’s fighting me over golf. When I offered to talk to Coach Duncan about it, Cam freaked on me, completely freaked.”
“Don’t talk to Greg Duncan,” Crystal said quickly, sharply.
Derek frowned.
She said, “Let me talk to Cameron—later.” She unhooked her seat belt and got out to pace in front of the truck. He had no choice but to join her. The air was still chilly and smelled of damp asphalt, cedar and madrona. Far below, waves breaking on the rocks threw up rainbows of light. This place used to hold such magic for them. Even the abandoned lighthouse way out on Tillamook Rock, miles offshore, had been part of the spell. It was a famous columbarium where old bones and ashes were put to rest. They used to swear they wanted to be placed there when they died, after growing old together.
“We need to focus on Charlie right now,” Crystal said. “Not Cameron. And not Lily.”
“She’s part of Charlie’s troubles,” Derek pointed out.
“She’s my best friend,” Crystal said.
“Maybe that’s clouding your judgment.”
“Damn it, Derek. Look at the facts. Charlie isn’t reading and she’s been stealing. Lily didn’t cause that. She’s trying to fix it. We need to rethink our plans for the summer.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning Lily wants us to do what’s best for Charlie, not what’s good for your career.”
“Oh, so you’re just going to cancel your plans and stay home, carting the kid to Portland every day to study.”
“I think we should consider it. Sorry if that interferes with your plans.”
He barked out a short laugh. “It doesn’t interfere, honey. It negates them completely. You know I won’t do anything this summer without Charlie.”
“What a shame you and Joan will have to miss out on Hawaii.”
“It’s Jane,” he said automatically, but of course she knew that. “And it’s not so much that missing Hawaii is a problem. I need to play in the majors. How the hell do you think we’re going to pay for things like a private clinic in Portland, along with everything else you claim you need?”
“Maybe if you managed your money better, you wouldn’t have to worry about that.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“You earn huge amounts, Derek, but you spend even more. How many are on your payroll now, a dozen? Twenty? Do you really need to travel with your own personal massage therapist?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. My people are the engine that keeps this train on track. You know that, Crystal. You know.” He aimed a meaningful look at her designer shoes and the diamond pendant glittering at her throat. “Maybe you should lay off the shopping. Ever think of that?”
She glared at him, then glanced at her watch. “We should go. It’s time to pick up the baby at Mrs. Foster’s and Cameron at the country club.” She got back in the truck and put on her seat belt. She was utterly se
lf-possessed, expecting the world to wait on her.
He got in and started up the truck. Steam still rolled off the hood and the asphalt. It was no longer raining, but fog hung thick in the ditches and vales surrounding the road.
“Cameron doesn’t mind hanging around the club,” Derek said, hoping to deflect her attention from who was watching the baby. “Now that Sean works there, they sometimes get in a round together.” He slammed the truck into reverse and peeled out, rear end fishtailing on the slick surface of the road.
“I think Cameron’s been spending too much time with your brother.”
“For God’s sake, Crystal. The kids have a right to get to know their uncle. Cameron likes him. Sean’s good for his golf game.”
“Giving him pointers, like teaching him how to cheat?”
Derek took the next curve a little too fast, swinging onto the shoulder, veering into the gravel along the shoulder. “That was a low blow. Sean’s no cheater.”
“No? Then he was banned from the Asian Tour for…what? Having a bad hair day?”
“For getting mixed up with the wrong woman,” he said. Then a devil inside him made him add, “God knows, I can relate to that.”
“You bastard, you—” She broke off, looking at the road. “You just missed the turnoff into town.”
“I’m taking Echo Ridge.”
“Then you’ll have to go through town to get to the sitter’s,” she pointed out.
All right, thought Derek. He might as well go for broke. “Ashley isn’t there. She’s with Jane.”
She sucked in an audible breath. “Well, that’s just peachy. The thought of my baby in the hands of your jailbait girlfriend makes my day.”
“Jane Coombs is twenty-four and already has her Ph.D.”
“You love reminding me of that. I don’t give a shit about her academic credentials.”
Derek knew she did. Crystal joked about getting out of college with only her “MRS” degree, but the fact that she had never finished her education was a sore spot, something probably only Derek knew.
“Jane loves Ashley,” he said. Then he took a deep breath. “And you might as well know she’s moving in with me.”
“Ah, living in sin. You’re such a perfect role model for our children.”
“We won’t be living in sin.” His hands were suddenly drenched in sweat, slick upon the steering wheel. “Crystal, we’re getting married. We plan to tell the kids next weekend.”
“You bastard,” she said, her voice eerily quiet. “You damned, fucking bastard.”
He glanced over at her and had the strangest sensation of déjà vu. And then he laughed. He was a bastard. His stepfather used to remind him of that all the time. And the fucking part? Well, that was certainly true. He fucked anything that twitched a tush at him, and on a pro golf tour, there was a lot of twitching.
“You think this is funny?” Crystal demanded.
“I think it’s hilarious. We’re hilarious. God, look at us, Crystal. Look at the mess we made, me with my pecker and you with your purse.” He chuckled, feeling giddy and light-headed as though he’d just slammed down a shot of tequila. He looked over and caught her staring at him with her heart in her eyes.
“Damn it, Crystal,” he said, “I was so damned in love with you, but you made it so damned hard to stay that way.”
Her eyes misted and for just a moment he saw the girl she had been, the dream lover he thought he wanted for the rest of his life. She had worshiped him with a fervor that was a turn-on. Where had that gone?
“God, Derek,” she said, “it’s so much easier than you—look out!”
He yanked his gaze back to the road in time to see a doe and her spotted fawn gambol down the fogged-in bank, stepping directly into the roadway right in front of him.
Derek had grown up in this place. He knew every curve of the road and every outcrop, every sheer cliff, and every thick-girthed cedar and Douglas fir that bordered the wild highway. He even knew that the Huffelmanns owned property for the next mile along the road and had posted it No Trespassing. Old man Huffelmann would not even give the highway department permission to put a guardrail alongside the steep incline, so there was no barrier to keep him on the road.
The tires screamed on the wet pavement and he dialed the steering wheel frantically in the opposite direction of the skid. Crystal stayed completely silent, though she threw her hands in front of her and braced them on the dashboard. Somehow, Derek wrestled the car back into its lane.
Crystal glowered at him. “You drive like a maniac.”
“You used to like that about me.”
“I used to like a lot of things about you.”
“Hey, at least I didn’t cream Bambi and his mom.” He could tell she was in no mood. Fine, he thought. He might as well get on that last nerve of hers right now and get it over with. “I suppose this is as good a time as any to tell you I have to miss Ashley’s birthday party.”
“Derek, come on.”
“I’m sorry, but I have to be in Vegas for a big tournament, so I need you to change the party date.”
“I’m not changing a thing.”
“She’s only two. She’ll never know. She’s just a baby. It’s no big deal.” A pair of madronas, the bark peeled off to reveal bloodred branches, grew beside the sharp curve in the road ahead. He ignored the yellow-and-black caution sign and accelerated.
“No big deal,” she echoed, her voice soft with restrained fury. “Well then, I suppose that now would be as good a time as any to tell you the baby isn’t yours.”
part two
The beauty of a strong, lasting commitment is often best understood by men incapable of it.
—Murray Kempton
chapter 6
Friday
5:00 p.m.
A nd here’s the challenger, Sean Maguire, aiming for the green and a possible eagle putt. No one in the crowd is breathing as the challenger selects a Titleist forged-iron pitching wedge, assuming his famous stance. An easy, athletic swing, a flawless follow-through and…he’s on, ladies and gentlemen. He’s on the green and rolling twenty, fifteen, ten! He’s just ten feet from the hole, and that’s one putt away from a historic win. Not only will he take home one million dollars and the championship trophy, but he’ll also be having sex with identical blond twins who magically turn into beer and pizza at midnight. Ladies and gentlemen, you can hear a pin drop as the challenger steps up to address the ball. All that stands between him and victory is ten feet of putting green. This should be no trouble for the legendary Maguire. He adjusts his stance, glides into his famous backswing, preparing to make history. Smoothly the club head descends toward the ball, flawlessly aimed, and—
“Hey, mister.”
Sean’s arm jerked and the head of the putter missed. The golf ball bobbled away from the hole. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he straightened up and scowled at the kid, who stood at the edge of the practice screen.
“Yeah?” Sean immediately regretted the annoyance in his tone. The wide-eyed kid was probably a fan, asking for the autograph of the legendary Sean Maguire. “What can I do for you?”
“You got change for a dollar?”
Great. He scrounged the change from his pocket. He had only thirty-five cents. The coins felt light and insubstantial in his hand.
He leaned down and grabbed the ball from the rain-soaked green. His four o’clock lesson hadn’t shown, probably due to the weather, so he’d passed the time practicing his own game. To what end, he had no idea.
“What do you need, kid?”
“Change for the Coke machine.” He shuffled his feet and, probably prodded by some latent lesson from Mom, added, “Please, mister.”
“You can call me Sean.”
“Really?”
“I just said you could. I can make change in the clubhouse.” He jerked his head toward the long, low building. His place of employment. He’d capped off his stellar career as a professional golfer right where he’d started, he
re at Echo Ridge.
As the kid fell in step with him, Sean asked, “What’s your name?”
“Russell Clark.”
They shook hands and kept walking.
“Hey, want to know how to figure out your porn-star name?”
“My what?”
“You know, your porn-star name. Porn stars never use their own names.”
The kid was ten years old if he was a day. What did he know about porn stars? “Is this something you ask all strangers, or just me?”
Russell shrugged, so Sean said, “Okay, sure. Sure. I’m dying to know.”
“Tell me the name of the street you live on.”
“Ridgetop Avenue.” In yet another nondescript apartment. He’d never lived in a place he actually cared about.
“Now tell me the name of the first pet you ever had.”
“When I was about your age, I had a shepherd mutt named Duke.”
The kid roared with laughter. “Then your porn-star name’s Duke Ridgetop.”
Oh, that’s brilliant, thought Sean. Just brilliant. “Maybe he’ll pay my bills for me.”
“Guess what mine is. Betcha can’t guess.”
“You’re right. I can’t. What is it?”
“Pepper McRedmond. Cool, huh?” Russell laughed and slapped his thigh.
“Whatever tees you up, kid.”
Inside the clubhouse, Sean made change and then Russell scurried off to the Coke machine. Kids belonged to an alien nation, Sean thought. He’d never understand them. Shaking his head, he noticed his weekly paycheck in his in-box. He stuffed it in his jacket pocket without even looking at the amount. He knew he ought to be grateful for steady money, but hell, he used to tip his caddie more than that amount after just one round. Used to.
Sean checked the time. He was finished here for the day, but in three hours he’d be back in the bar upstairs, fixing Manhattans and cosmopolitans for local lawyers and leather-skinned retirees. It was hardly worth going home in between. Maura, his girlfriend, was at the hospital until late, and early in the morning, she had to drive to Portland for a seminar. Sean was surprised to feel a twinge of sentiment; he would miss her, he thought. These days, he didn’t trust his own judgment about women.