"Thanks for the help," he told her as he left, and she called out a de nada, Spanish for "you're welcome."
He dialed one of the numbers that night. The phone rang for a long time, and when someone answered, it wasn't Lisa. When he asked to speak with her, the voice, which was female and for no reason that he could fathom distinctly hostile, said, "Lisa's not here."
"When do you expect her back?" he asked in his most businesslike tone of voice.
"I don't know," was the tart reply.
"I see," he said, halfway unwilling to leave a message with someone who sounded so angry.
"I'll tell her you called," said the woman on the other end of the line before she slammed the phone down in his ear.
Jay clicked off his phone, thinking that he would have laughed if he hadn't been so disappointed. The woman couldn't very well inform Lisa that he had called when he hadn't even given her his name.
The best thing that he could say about his abortive effort to reach Lisa Sherrill was that it had produced information about her. She lived with a woman, and from what he could gather from the sound of her voice, it was an older woman. And if Lisa lived with an older woman, she probably wasn't living with a man. Encouraging news, indeed.
* * *
Lisa had expected Adele to be nodding in front of the television set when she arrived home that night, but the house was dark. As Lisa opened the door from the garage into the kitchen, Adele shuffled in wearing her bathrobe and old terry-cloth scuffs.
"A man called," Adele said abruptly.
"A man? What man?" Lisa asked, suddenly alert.
"I don't know," Adele said. "He didn't give me his name."
"Great. I haven't been out with any decent guys in the past six months, and you didn't get his phone number," Lisa said with more than a little exasperation. Adele refused to consider getting Caller I.D. She said that she'd be less inclined to answer the phone if she knew who was calling.
"Want to play a game of gin rummy?"
Lisa fought an urge to pursue the discussion about the importance of taking telephone messages because past experience had taught her that it would do no good to argue. Instead she said, "I'd rather not. I'm tired after a whole day of meetings."
"I remember when I taught you and Megan to play gin rummy," Adele said reminiscently as she sank down on one of the kitchen chairs. "I thought one of you would never catch on."
"I was the official gin rummy dummy, but we crowned Megan the gin rummy queen that summer," Lisa said with forbearance as she opened the refrigerator door. Sometimes Lisa thought that Adele's memories of Megan were the only vivid part of her life.
"You made a golden crown out of gilt paper from an old wallpaper sample book and I played a song I'd composed for her on the piano," Adele said.
"Why don't you ever play the piano anymore, Adele?" Lisa asked. She poured orange juice into a glass and offered it to Adele, who waved it away.
"I've forgotten how. Anyway, it's out of tune. If you don't want to play cards, I'll watch TV. Are you sure you don't want to watch television for a while?" Adele asked.
Lisa shook her head, avoiding Adele's reproachful eyes. "Thanks Adele, but I'm bushed."
Lisa made a graceful exit to her bedroom, where she tossed her briefcase in the closet and dumped her cardigan into a drawer. Adele had straightened her room for her, one of the kindnesses that she liked to perform for Lisa. Whenever Lisa protested, Adele said that she enjoyed doing it because it was something she would have done for a daughter if she'd had one.
Lisa threw herself across the bed and stared at the telephone, willing it to reveal the name of her mysterious caller. It didn't ring again, and she finally fell asleep in her clothes. When she woke up it was one o'clock in the morning, and after she realized what time it was, she roused herself and stumbled into the bathroom, where she stared at her bleary-eyed reflection in the mirror.
It could have been Jay Quillian who had called, and now she would have to wait until Monday to see him again. If only Adele had asked the man his name, if only Adele would learn to take a message now and then. At this rate, Lisa thought irrationally, she'd never find a permanent relationship and she'd live here with Adele forever.
Which was probably exactly what Adele wanted, come to think of it.
* * *
Lisa didn't have to wait until Monday to see Jay after all.
On Saturday she was standing in line for the cashier at the drugstore, reflecting that there weren't that many eligible men left in the world and that few of them in her corner of it were particularly interesting. When she'd been twenty, she'd thought she had plenty of time to find the right man, but by the time she'd turned thirty, they all seemed to have disappeared.
At some point, she started thinking of herself as a woman, not a girl, but it was hard to remember that she wasn't young anymore when she looked in the mirror and saw round cheeks and wispy blond hair.
As for men, she'd never found one who offered more than a passing attraction. Since her last failed serious romance a couple of years ago, she'd dated a real-estate broker who'd badgered her about giving him an exclusive listing on her property with her body thrown in for good measure, a yacht salesman who entertained her on a cabin cruiser anchored so far out in the river that she'd almost drowned when she'd tried to swim back to shore after his unwelcome advances, and an automobile mechanic who'd wanted to tinker with more than her carburetor. Adele hadn't liked any of them, which was an aggravation at first, but Adele had been right in the end.
She was wondering idly what Adele would think of Jay Quillian when she glanced over her shoulder to see how many other people were waiting. At the end of the line stood Jay, holding a tube of toothpaste. A pair of dark glasses swung from a cord around his neck.
What a stroke of good luck, Lisa thought, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him.
"Jay," she said, leaning around a woman behind her who carried a full basket. "If you'd like me to have your toothpaste rung up with my things, I'd be glad to."
His smile was wide with both recognition and relief. "Lisa! That would be great," he said, breaking out of line and handing the toothpaste over.
"You look as though you're in a hurry," she said as they inched toward the cash register.
"I am, sort of. I promised Connie Fernandez that I'd take her to visit horses at a ranch that belongs to a friend of mine, and I'm late. Not to mention that the friend doesn't answer his phone. I think he's forgotten we're coming."
"Will you go anyway?" she asked.
"I don't know. There's a security gate with a combination at the entrance to his property and I can't get through if he's not there. Connie will be disappointed if she doesn't get to see the horses."
"Is she with you?"
"I'm on my way to Yahola to pick her up. The toothpaste's for her. She says her grandmother won't buy her any."
"Won't buy it for her! Why not?"
Jay's shoulders rose in an expressive shrug of annoyance. "You'd have to know the woman. She's not a grandmother who bakes cookies and heaps presents upon her darling grandchildren."
Before Lisa could reply to this, the cashier said, "Next?"
After Lisa had paid for her purchases, she and Jay walked out the door into a January morning bright with sunshine. It sparkled off the chrome bumpers and hubcaps and gleamed off the windshields of the cars, and it danced off the highlights in Jay's hair.
"Here's the toothpaste," she said, handing it over, and he sifted a dollar and some change into her palm.
"Thanks a lot," he said. "I really appreciate this. Now my next problem is what to do with Connie for the afternoon if I can't get in touch with my friend."
"I have an idea," Lisa said suddenly. "If you'd like to hear about it, that is." For a moment she wondered if she was making a mistake. Maybe he wouldn't go for it.
"What's that?" he said. His eyes were deep brown and shiny, like cool polished stones, a welcome relief after looking at the hot bright parking
lot. She thought for one disastrous moment that maybe he was only being polite; perhaps he wanted to be on his way. But then his pupils widened and she detected a flicker of something more than compliance with social convention, and she told herself to stop thinking like a teenager. She might look like one, but she didn't have to act it.
"I—I have a canoe," she said, watching carefully for his reaction. "I was going out in it this afternoon, and if you and Connie would like to join me—well, I hate to think of her being disappointed."
"Do you mean it? You wouldn't mind if we went along?"
"A canoe probably isn't as good as a horse, but it's all I've got," she said half-apologetically.
"My guess is that Connie has never been in a boat of any kind. That sounds wonderful, Lisa. Would you like to ride along with me to Yahola to pick her up?"
Lisa regretfully shook her head. "I have some errands to run for the mission—birthday candles for the cake we're going to bake for Pedro next week, that sort of thing."
"You're baking a cake for Pedro's birthday?"
"He told me he's never had one before. I want this to be a birthday he'll always remember. What flavor should we bake?" she asked.
"You can never go wrong with chocolate," he pointed out. He liked the way her brows drew together when she looked serious.
"Chocolate it is. I'll need another half hour or so to do the things I need to do. Why don't you bring Connie to my house in about an hour?"
"Good enough," he said cheerfully. "You'd better give me directions to your place."
She told him how to turn onto the winding river road and how the road doubled back on itself before crossing the county line and fronting on the river again. He drew a map on a pad of paper from his glove compartment, and as she watched, Lisa had the absurd notion to reach out and touch the edge of his shirt where it was so white against his tan.
It's starting again, she thought helplessly, wondering how he could act so unaware of an attraction so strong.
She fluttered a hand at him out the window of her car on the way out of the parking lot. Jay was an unexpected treat on a day that had promised nothing special, only a blank space to be filled in. And now he was going to fill it, and she was glad.
* * *
For Jay it was a Saturday morning that had so far been purely exasperating, which was why he couldn't believe his luck. Lisa Sherrill, in line ahead of him at the drugstore! Lisa Sherrill in the parking lot, her pale gleaming hair lifting like wings in the breeze as she invited him to go canoeing!
As his car rolled into the shell-rock parking area near the community center in Yahola, he looked for Connie. She was usually waiting for him in front of the community center, but this time she wasn't there.
He saw her running, her hair flying out behind her, as he braked to a stop. Alarmed, he got out of the car and hurried to meet her, and she flung her arms around his waist.
"Oh, Jay, I didn't think I'd be able to meet you today. Nina threatened to make me stay home if I didn't clean the kitchen and I did, but she said the floor was dirty, so I swept it again and she yelled at me, but I told her I had to go and finally she said to get out," Connie said in a rush.
Jay handed her handkerchief. "She said you could go?"
"Y-yes," Connie said. She blotted her tears and managed to get control of herself before handing the handkerchief back to Jay.
He bit back his anger and swung the car door open. "Hop in, Connie. You'll forget all about the trouble at home when I tell you about the surprise."
"Surprise?" Connie said, clearly interested through her tears.
"Actually, there's bad news and there's good news. Which do you want first?" he asked her.
"The bad. So we can get it over with," Connie said.
"The man who owns the horse isn't home. I think he forgot about our visit."
"Oh," Connie said. Her face fell. "How about the good news?"
"We're going out on the Loxahatchee River in a canoe."
"A canoe! I didn't know you had a canoe!" Connie bounced excitedly in her seat.
"No, it's Lisa Sherrill's canoe. Remember her from the community center dining hall?"
"Do you know her?"
"I do now," he said with a grin.
"She's nice. And pretty. But how can I go canoeing? I don't know how to paddle."
"Lisa and I can take care of that—at least at first. Can you swim?"
"No, I never learned."
"You'll wear a life vest, so that's no problem. But you should learn to swim. Maybe I'll arrange for swimming lessons."
"I don't know if Nina would let me go. She's scared of the water."
"There's no need to be frightened of the water if you know how to swim. Perhaps Nina never learned."
"I guess not. Wow! We're going out in a canoe! Wait till I tell my cousins about this!" Connie said.
"Maybe you shouldn't," Jay suggested.
"Oh. You're right—it might only make trouble with Nina," Connie said in a subdued voice.
Jay could have bitten his tongue for dampening Connie's spirits, but he had learned that Nina had to be handled carefully. He sometimes felt that he was walking a fine line. One slip, and his access to Connie would be denied forever.
He tried not to think about that. Instead he watched for the sign that would tell him where to turn onto the river road, and he thought about spending a pleasant uncomplicated afternoon on the river with Lisa.
So many times he'd met women who interested him initially, and so many times he'd been disillusioned. They didn't like to share him with the children. They didn't like it when he had to hurry to Yahola to help Sister Maria with some problem.
But this time, with this woman who on her day off shopped for birthday candles for a little boy who'd never had a birthday cake, perhaps he wouldn't be disappointed. After all, if Sister Maria was pushing her, Lisa Sherrill must be something special.
Chapter 3
Jay had no trouble finding his way to Lisa's house after he saw the mailbox marked Sherrill. He swung his car into the driveway that wound lazily between clumps of pine and palmetto trees and immediately saw the house nestled amid an opulent fringe of greenery. Beyond the house the river, pale and sparkling golden in the sunlight, shimmered through a lacy cluster of Australian pine trees. A covey of quail scurried in the path of his car before he pulled to a stop behind Lisa's white Toyota, which was parked on one side of the house's big double garage.
He heard a shout and looked toward the river where Lisa was standing ankle-deep in the water, steadying an aluminum canoe with one hand.
He watched as she walked carefully up the bank. The tiny seed cones from the Australian pines were scattered here and there on the bed of fallen pine needles, and she picked her way carefully through them so that their sharp teeth wouldn't prick her feet. Her hair was tied up in a ridiculous little pony tail that somehow suited her, and wisps of it hung down around her face. It looked like strands of spun sugar, Jay thought. He saw in that moment that he had been mistaken about her earlier; she wasn't merely cute and pretty. She was beautiful.
Connie hung back, suddenly bashful.
"Connie, I'm glad you could come," Lisa said. Her smile was warm and welcoming, and Jay was grateful to her for that. He gave her a little nod to let her know that he approved.
Connie ducked her head and looked at Lisa out of the corners of her eyes.
"Now," Lisa said briskly, seeming not to notice Connie's shyness, "Connie, you'd better put on this life vest." She tossed an orange collar in Connie's direction, and Jay caught it. He draped it around Connie's neck and showed her how to tie it while Lisa busied herself loading the paddles.
Jay said, "Connie, you'll need to take off your shoes. If you wear them, they'll only get wet."
Connie obediently removed her sneakers and cast a dubious glance toward the house. Someone was standing at one of the windows—a woman. Jay was looking, too, and he saw that the woman ducked behind a curtain when she saw Connie star
ing at her. Who was she to Lisa—some weird, unpresentable relative?
He flicked his glance toward Lisa in time to see her frown and cast a quick look toward the house, where the curtain was still swaying. She didn't say anything, and when Connie asked him something that he didn't hear, he transferred his attention to her.
Lisa was glad for the distraction of Connie's question, but her heart sank when she realized that Adele was watching. She had told Adele that friends would be coming over to go canoeing, and Adele, who had been out of sorts all morning because Lisa had run errands instead of listening to her account of the made-for-TV movie she'd watched on television last night, had mumbled something about taking a nap and had disappeared into her room. Considering Adele's morose frame of mind, Lisa had hoped that Connie and Jay would be able to avoid her.
"I don't know where you should put your shoes," Jay was saying. Connie was protectively cradling her sneakers close to her chest.
"Here, I'll set them inside the garage for you," Lisa offered. She was startled when Connie backed away as though Lisa had suggested that she throw the shoes in the river.
"I can do it," Connie blurted, and leaving Lisa looking baffled, she marched across the narrow strip of grass to the open garage, which was on the other side of the house from Adele's room.
Lisa turned to Jay. "Did I say something wrong? Connie certainly didn't take to my suggestion that I put her shoes away for her."
Jay shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes these kids from the mission operate on a different wavelength. Their frame of reference is so different from ours that it's hard to figure them out."
"What do you mean?"
"My guess about her shoes is that they're precious to her and bought at some expense, so she wants to know they're safe."
"I can't imagine—" Lisa began.
But Jay held a finger over his lips. Connie was on her way back from the garage, and he turned his most reassuring smile on her. "Come on, doodlebug," he said, holding out his hand, and he helped her into the center of the canoe.
After making sure that Connie was securely in place, Lisa climbed into the bow, and Jay pushed off into the thin fringe of reeds on the bank. They glided smoothly into the middle of the river, disturbing a school of mullet as the canoe knifed its way toward deeper water.
Sunshine and Shadows Page 4