I lift up my drink. “Off to Santa Cruz. See you soon.”
“You’re going to call me.” Chloe makes that annoying phone fingers next to her ear like she’s starring on American Idol. “To run, when you’re up to it, right?”
I lift up my cast conveniently. “If I’m still in town, most certainly.” I reach for the door and Jeff opens it for me and follows me out to the sun-kissed patio.
“You know, if I were you, Jeff, I wouldn’t get involved with that. First she’s with her husband, then she’s having coffee with a single man on a Sunday morning. Don’t you ever see the Lifetime channel?”
He laughs. “No, what does that mean?”
“The boyfriend is always the one to die.”
“Boyfriend? No, no. You’ve got it all wrong.”
“The husband always has it wrong too. And then . . .” I shape my finger like a gun. “Bam! The boyfriend’s family is fighting for justice in the court scene.”
Jeff lifts his brows. “So where’s this elusive man of yours? The one who has your heart.” He looks around the parking lot as though I’ve made the entire thing up. “If you wanted to be rid of me, you know, you didn’t have to lie. I’m a strong guy.”
“I didn’t say I had his heart.” Maybe I did once, but I sure blew that.
He gives me that lopsided grin and the blue of his eyes just sparkles under the sunlight. “So have dinner with me Wednesday and we’ll talk about it. I think—” He puts his hand to his chest. “I think if you really analyze the situation, you might not be as head-over-heels as you think. I mean, who needs rejection like that?”
Certainly not me. “I’ll think about it. I’ve got to get over the hill before all the beachgoers clog the road.”
“You want to trade cars?”
“You’d let me drive Katie on one of the most dangerous roads in the Valley?”
He drops the keys in my hand. “Now, give me the keys to Granola,” he says about my Subaru.
“I don’t think so.” I hand him back the keys and he grasps my hand.
“I’ll see you for the rehearsal dinner.”
I nod. “Thanks.” I climb into my car, amazed that even after I’ve damaged his ego, he’s committed to our deal.
The traffic to Santa Cruz is a nightmare. Bumper to bumper all the way over, with kids screaming their music from their convertibles and beaters. Surfboards sticking out the tops of vehicles. And it brings back memories of cruising Friday night, honking at the popular boys and giggling wildly if they honked back. Those were the days when you only had to worry if you were worthy of a honk.
“Oh my goodness!” I say aloud as I approach the house. In the daylight, it’s like something out of a movie and I’ve just gone back in time thirty years. It’s perfect. The white clapboard siding has been replaced with new, vinyl siding, and the roof is a bright composite gray. I smile at the front door, which has been painted red, and I know that had to come from Simon. I’m sure he’s listened to my explanation of color more than a few times.
I clamber out of the car as fast as I’m able with my awkward gait and race to the porch. The door is ajar and inside, the drywall is up and a painter—at least I assume he’s a painter; he’s in whites with paint splatter all over him—is standing there. He looks over the plans and, finally, at me.
“Did you want imperfect smooth or elephant hide?”
“Pardon me?”
“The wall texture.”
“What’s better?”
“Imperfect smooth is more popular now. It’s that old-world look.”
“Yeah,” I nod. “I think that’s good. Have you seen Simon?”
“Nah. Been here all morning getting everything prepped.” The painter shakes his head. “He hasn’t been here.”
I walk out to the back porch and look to the spot where I had Simon in my grip last time, and I ponder the previous day in his sister’s salon. I’m probably just anxious over this because he’s leaving, and he doesn’t believe that I’m truthful. This is probably just pre-wedding jitters I feel for Morgan. I’m just worried I’ll be alone. The truth is I’ve been alone a long time emotionally. This is nothing new and Simon’s leaving will change nothing.
I walk down to the beach and watch the waves roll in and the kids chasing them and running back in. I can’t recount the hours I spent doing just that before my mother’s death. I smile at the memory.
“One of these times, the waves are going to get tired of being taunted, and they’ll catch you by surprise,” my mother warned me.
I retaliated by sticking my tongue out at the wave and running even closer to the cresting water. Then, just as my mother prophesied, the wave encapsulated me and took me down into its undertow. I remember water everywhere, like being in an agitation cycle, and not knowing which way was up and which was down, just tumbling violently while bits of sand hit me in the process like tiny darts. I thought I’d never see the sky again, or breathe the air, as I fumbled and flailed, unable to do anything against the power of the water. I was nothing more than a piece of seaweed against the force.
Until my mother pulled me upright and stood me up. I was still in the water to my knees and wanted to run. “No,” she said. “Wait until the wave goes back out. You’ll just get stuck in it again. You can’t fight the undertow.”
I looked up at her, so fearful of the water, but knowing I couldn’t let go of her hand or I might go under again. I clung to her leg with my free hand.
“Just wait,” she said reassuringly. “It will be gone soon.”
As the wave dissipated, I pulled my feet from the wet sand, which had buried them above the ankles, and my mother calmly walked us to our blanket and surrounded me with a towel. “Let’s eat a sandwich. I’ll bet you’re starving. I made your favorite.”
I nodded, trying so desperately not to cry, but angrily staring at the waves as though they had betrayed me.
“You’re crying. Poppy. That’s what the waves do. They come in, and they have such force you can’t play with them and not be ready. Don’t be mad at the waves or scared of them. Just know that’s what waves do, and I’m here to protect you because that’s what mommies do.”
She fed me an almond butter sandwich and made me go right back out into the waves. She stayed with me, and held my hand, but she wouldn’t let me go home. Not until I’d faced the Pacific again and prevailed.
As I gaze out into the depths of the ocean now, I have tears again, remembering those words. That’s what mommies do. I use the back of my hand to wipe away the tears and I listen to the laughter from the children below. It’s not what all mommies do. Not when mommies have more pain of their own than they can handle. Not when a tidal wave of full force captures them and won’t let go. She didn’t cling to His hand, though she told me not to let go.
Why did you let go?
“You promised me!” I rage at the sky, though I know how ridiculous my words are now. Decades late, and more useless than driftwood on the beach. I sink to the ground, cross my legs, and watch the surf go in and out again. The children playing chicken with the waves, and their mothers hovering closely nearby.
I never told my mother I loved her before she died. I was so angry—livid, actually—that she’d allowed herself to get sick. Disgusted might be the proper word. “I loved you more than life itself,” I whisper. “I loved you and Aura more than anything. We never talked about her death, but I loved her, too, Mom! I was her mommy too!”
I wipe away the tears, remember when life in our home ceased to be alive, when the prevailing emotion was sadness and grief. Life changed when my sister Aura died from SIDS. Suddenly, my mother went from being a good mommy to being a failure—in her mind anyway.
Like a fresh wave, the truth finally hits me.
It was the guilt!
I stand up again, watching a pelican race along the crest of a wave. “I blamed you, Mom. I blamed you for not taking care of yourself, but it was because you couldn’t take care of Aura!” I feel the te
ars come again. “I never knew,” I say to the sky. “But you were a good mommy.”
That’s why she told me I was strong when she was sick. She thought Aura needed her more than I did.
“Poppy, are you looking for me?” I shield my eyes from the sun and turn to see Simon like the angel of light he is right now.
“Oh, Simon.” I fall into his barrel chest and breathe in his familiar scent. He doesn’t know what to do with his arms, but I don’t care. I wrap my own around him and hug him with the passion I feel. “Simon.”
He doesn’t hug back, but I don’t care because I am finally free. I understand with amazing clarity. I’ve put into health all that my mother put into destroying her body from guilt. I had my own guilt that I couldn’t save her and this has been about proving to her I could do it.
“Simon.” I look up into his eyes, which soften, even though I can tell he’s working hard to keep his expression from changing. “I let life go by without telling people what I really felt for them, how I hurt for them. I was so angry at my mother when she died that I never told her how much I loved her. I never told her that I loved her more than life itself or that she was a good mother.”
“Poppy? What are you talking about?”
“Granted, maybe I was too young to know all those things. We never talked about my sister’s death. I never told her I loved my sister, and I knew it wasn’t her fault, but I never told her, Simon.”
“Poppy, what sister?”
“My sister, Aura.” I try to talk over the sobs. “She was a cranky little baby, who I tried to mother when her screams drove my mother crazy. But she died, Simon. SIDS, they called it, but she was never healthy, I don’t think. Her death broke my mother, and I think I always blamed her for not taking care of herself after that, and for letting the diabetes get her. But now I know, Simon. I know that she couldn’t help it.”
Simon’s arms finally come around me, and again I breathe in deeply and relish his familiar and warm scent.
“She once told me that mommies take care of their babies. I never thought of what that meant to her. It meant guilt, Simon. It meant that she didn’t care for Aura like she should have. Which of course was a lie.” I wipe my face again. “It didn’t mean that she’d given up on me. Only that she couldn’t deal with the guilt.” I look up at the sky. “All these years, I’ve been so angry. Why didn’t I know?”
Simon’s arms come around me tighter, and I bask in his warmth, allowing the decades of tears to fall. “She knew, Poppy. I promise you, she knew.”
I pull away from him and meet his deep brown eyes. When he looks away, I lift his chin and force his gaze to mine. “So you see, you might have to go to Hawaii alone and do what you need to do to be a good son. But I can’t let you go now without telling you that I love you. I’ve joked with you and kept you at arm’s length because I wasn’t able to face what I really felt. I think I must have loved you years ago.”
“Poppy.” He shakes his head. “Don’t say this now. You’re not in the right place to say this now and I’m not in the right place to hear it.”
I nod, and sniffle. “I am, Simon. I am.”
Simon takes a golf handkerchief from his pocket and wipes my tears away, softly patting my cheeks. “Let’s get you home.”
“No.” I stop him by grabbing his arm. “I don’t want to go home, Simon. I want to have this out right here and now at the beach. It only seems appropriate. I want to know what changed between the other night on that very same beach down there and right now.” I point to the dusty ground. “If you don’t love me, why did you spend a fortune to fix up my house without even asking me? Why did you stand up to my father that day in the office?”
Simon sucks in a jagged breath, but he doesn’t answer me. He twirls me around in his arms so I’m facing the children on the beach. I want to turn around and beat his chest until I get an answer, but I’m so comfortable in his arms as I think about what really happened to my mother, I can’t bear to hear what he might say. For now, his being here is just enough.
chapter 23
Miles run: 0
Blocks walked with Simon: 2
Desperation scale: 0
We walk back to the house after staring at the ocean for an hour. Simon’s back is hunched over, and I can tell he’s hurting. I almost feel it myself, as I can see exactly where his spine is curved strangely. Instinctively, I put my hand there. “I have my table in the car. We’ll adjust you when we get back to the house.”
Simon nods as though he really hasn’t heard what I’ve said.
“Simon.” I stop walking and face him. “What is going on with you?”
“I’ve just got a lot on my mind, Poppy. I’ve got to finish packing, and I shouldn’t have come over here. I have a million things to do to close up my own house. Hearing what you’re struggling with, and that I can’t help you right now—it bothers me, all right?”
“Simon, today was a good thing. I understand a lot more than I did yesterday.”
He grabs his back. “It doesn’t mean you have all the answers, Poppy. This is all fresh and you’re still going to fight the obsessions. You know that.”
As we approach the house, my father’s Lexus is in the driveway. My father, who’s supposed to be in Arizona.
“Isn’t that your father’s car?” Simon asks.
At that point, my father comes down the front stairs and waves at us. He’s wearing the same Tommy Bahama shirt Jeff wore on our date, and I can’t help but laugh at the sight. I run the last few steps towards him and hug him frantically. “Daddy, I’m so glad you’re here. What are you doing here?”
My dad keeps his arm around me and reaches out and shakes Simon’s hand. “Good to see you, young man. You’ve done a good job on the house.” His nod is his form of masculine thank you, and I watch adoringly as my two men meet each other in respect.
“Thank my friend, Jim. He’s the contractor.” Simon stretches out his hand again. “Well, it was good to see you, Mr. Clayton. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get home and get the final things packed for Hawaii.”
“Going on vacation?”
“Something like that.” Simon starts for the car. “Poppy, if you need anything just ask Jim. He’ll take care of it.”
“Simon.” I go chasing after him. “You’re just leaving me?” I can’t keep up on my cast. “Simon, wait.”
He turns around, and his brown eyes warm at the sight of me. I know what he feels; I can see it. I just don’t understand what’s changed, and I know if he leaves, that will be it.
“Why is your cell phone not working?” I ask him.
“I’ll get a new one in Hawaii. I’ll call you when I get there, Poppy.”
“Do you promise?”
He smiles. It’s the warm grin I’ll always remember. The one that would light up a room. “I promise.” He tips my chin towards him. “Stay out of trouble.”
“Are you going to kiss me good-bye?” I ask.
He chastely kisses my forehead. “Stay out of trouble and stay off that foot. No running, do you understand?”
“I didn’t mean aren’t you going to kiss me on the forehead. If I want that kind of kiss, my father’s behind me.”
Simon laughs. “You’re asking me for a kiss? This is rich, Poppy. A man just has to redo your house for the privilege?”
“Jim redid my house, and I’m not asking him for a kiss, am I?”
“I’ll be sure and tell him.”
“Make no mistake, Simon. I am asking you for a real kiss, and you’re avoiding the subject quite adeptly. I’m starting to feel . . . Well, I’m starting to feel a little dissed, quite frankly.”
He steps closer to me. “I can’t have my best chiropractor feeling dissed.” He bends down and kisses me tenderly, but briefly on the lips.
“That’s it? That’s the best you got?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, your father is right there, and I’m not sure he thinks much of me.”
I turn arou
nd and look at my dad, who is indeed staring at us. “He’ll get over it.” I pull Simon down toward me, and I give him a real kiss. Whatever Simon’s saying to me, I can feel the truth on his lips. I pull away with a sly smile on my face. I don’t think Simon knows exactly how goal oriented I am, but I consider myself in training for not just a triathlon, but wrangling a slippery young entrepreneur.
“What are you up to?” he asks me.
“Just saying good-bye to a friend.” I shrug.
“That was not a good-bye. Everything in that kiss was a ‘hello, baby.’”
This makes me giggle. “I’ll be in Hawaii for the run in a month.”
“How are you going to run on a stress fracture?”
“You let me worry about that.”
He bends down and kisses me again, and I feel it to the tips of my toes. I feel like I could leave with Simon right now. I could walk away from everything, and we could set our goals together. But of course, that equates with stalking, and I have enough self-control to know better.
“You’re worth the wait.”
“What?” he asks.
I clamp my mouth closed. “I’ll see you in Hawaii.”
“Good-bye, Poppy.” Simon slips into his Prius and waves.
I walk back towards my father after watching Simon drive off and I just have all the confidence in the world that I’ll see him again soon. Though, in hindsight, he didn’t leave a phone number or a forwarding address. A lesser woman might think that was a bad sign.
“What’s that about? Poppy, are you interested in that boy?”
“Do you remember that time Mom pulled me out of the undertow?”
He grins. “I do. You were scared to death, but then you relayed how you got right back in, and that the water would never get you again.” He laughs again. “It did—the Pacific is faster than a six-year-old—but you were never afraid after that. You kept your cool.”
“That’s exactly what I plan to do with Simon, Daddy. In his own way, he plucked me out of the ocean again, and I’m going right back in.”
Calm, Cool, and Adjusted Page 24