by Sherry Kyle
"I'm scared." Haley's voice shook.
"Of what?" Better to let her sister voice the truth about her husband's behavior.
"I'm scared that Mark and I won't be good parents. Neither of us had good examples . . . with his parents divorcing when he was five, and Mom raising us alone—"
"Mom did the best she could . . ." From her duffel bag, Claire pulled out a framed picture of the three of them, her finger trailing lightly across her mom's smiling face.
"I know she did, but the fact is we were raised in a single-parent home. We didn't know what it was like to have both a mom and a dad who loved us. That and the fact that—"
"That what, Haley?" Claire set the picture down and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Mark is still drinking."
Claire could hear her sister crying. It pained her to know her sister was dealing with this alone. "Oh, Haley. I'm so sorry."
"It's gotten worse since you moved out." Haley hiccupped. "I don't know what to do."
"Have you talked to him about it? When he's sober . . ."
"I've tried. He says there is nothing wrong with a few beers after a hard day of work."
Claire sat down in the floral chair tucked in the corner of the room. A blanket lay folded across the armrest. She covered her bare feet. "Is he still working with his uncle?"
"Yes. Thankfully, there are construction jobs to keep him busy. At least I know Mark's insurance will cover the birth."
"Is Mark happy about the baby?" Claire couldn't picture Mark as a dad. But then again, she couldn't imagine a loving father.
"Yes. We didn't think we could have kids. So, yes, Mark's definitely happy . . ."
"Then maybe he'll quit drinking before the baby's born."
"Maybe . . ." Doubt colored her tone. "Claire, I haven't even asked you what's going on in Capitola. Have you found Mom's old love?"
"I think so, but I haven't shown him the letter yet."
"What?! Really? What are you waiting for?" Haley's voice had a sudden boost of energy.
Claire twirled her hair. "Because, like you, I'm scared."
"Scared of what? That Mom's old love still pines for her after thirty-five years? Claire, she's gone. Old memories are simply that . . . memories. It's okay to move on."
"He's my new employer. I'm scared that I'll get to know him and not like him. I'll wonder what Mom ever saw in him."
"Like I said before, it was thirty-five years ago. People change. Maybe you should forget the letter. Chances are your employer didn't even write it. Who is he, and what work are you doing for him?"
"Michael Thompson, the man wearing that fancy suit at Mom's funeral, and you'll never guess who his mother is—"
"Geraldine . . ." Haley's voice trailed off.
"Yeah, how did you know?" Claire pulled the blanket higher on her lap.
"Listen, Claire, I've got to run. Suddenly I'm feeling nauseous."
The clock displayed 1:00 a.m. Claire didn't feel the least bit sleepy. Tom had gone to bed hours ago, right after the football game ended. She slipped out of her room to wait on the family room sofa. Nancy would be home soon.
A car pulled into the driveway. After the kind of morning Nancy had had, talking with Vivian on the phone and a long shift at work, now might not be a good time to talk to her about the rental. She didn't want to break Nancy's heart further by telling her she was going to room with Geraldine, but she didn't have a choice. It was all planned out for her.
Tea. The thought popped into her mind. She had noticed Nancy drinking herbal tea this morning. Claire headed into the kitchen and opened the cabinet. She filled a cup with water and put it in the microwave to heat as her mind drifted. By the smiles Geraldine was casting Blake's way earlier today, Claire had a pretty good idea that Michael's mother enjoyed male attention and wouldn't mind him coming over to cook his meals while his kitchen was being remodeled.
"Claire, what are you doing up?" Nancy entered the kitchen through the garage door. "It's in the middle of the night. Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"I was waiting for you. Plus, I thought you might need this . . ." The microwave signaled the water was hot. Claire pulled out the cup and dropped in a tea bag. "Here you go."
"What's up?" Nancy took the cup from Claire. The skin around Nancy's eyes sagged. The woman was tired.
"Let's sit down in the family room. We'll be more comfortable in there." Claire linked arms with Nancy and led her to the sofa.
"Did Vivian leave another message?" Nancy sat down and held the cup with both hands. She brought the steaming liquid to her mouth.
"Vivian didn't call back today." Claire sat, grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it to her chest.
"You're right, I do need this." Nancy took a deep breath. "And the warm cup feels good on my hands."
"You've been so kind to me. And I wanted it to work out with Vivian. But something happened today at Michael's house."
"Did you get the job?" Nancy took another sip of her tea, then focused her eyes on Claire.
She wished she had made herself a cup. It would feel good to warm her insides. At the moment she felt cold and heartless. Nancy had been nothing but kind to her, and now Claire was going to disappoint her. "Yes, I got the job."
"That's great! When do you start?"
"Tomorrow. Geraldine wants me to help her move her things into the house." Claire clutched the pillow tighter.
"She accepted the fact she needs a caregiver? Not all seniors are that willing."
"It didn't take much convincing. Michael basically told her she needed someone to look after her. Geraldine's not stable on her feet, even though she's with it here." Claire pointed to her head. "Oh, and the best part is I know her."
"How?" Nancy sat forward.
"Geraldine was my old neighbor in L.A. We didn't talk much back then. She pretty much kept to herself."
"Interesting." Nancy put her cup down on the coffee table. "How did Geraldine seem today?"
"Like we've been friends for years." Claire slouched down on the couch. "I did see her at a gas station not too long ago—on my way up from L.A. She handed me a twenty-dollar bill. Said she should've helped me sooner."
"She sounds sweet." Nancy ran a hand through her short brown hair. "I'm glad you found a job. Things are looking up for you." She yawned. "I need to get to bed. It's been a long day—"
"Maybe I should wait until tomorrow . . ." Claire set the throw pillow neatly on the corner of the sofa and then stood.
"For what?" Nancy looked her in the eye.
"Never mind. It can wait until morning." She forced a smile.
"Claire, you might as well tell me now. I won't sleep until I know what you're talking about."
Claire picked up the empty teacup from the coffee table. "I'm going to move into the rental with Geraldine." She said it so fast she hoped Nancy heard her.
"Wait a minute." Nancy's voice caught, and she held up a hand. "Did I hear you correctly? Did you say Geraldine is going to live in the rental?"
Claire nodded. "I didn't know what to do or say. I mentioned to Michael that there were family issues going on between you and Vivian, and then all of a sudden Geraldine wants to move right in. She didn't waste a moment." Claire shifted her weight from side to side. Awful. She felt downright awful. In one respect, Geraldine provided her with both a job and a home, but on the other hand, would she have any privacy living with an old woman who needed assistance? Of course, she didn't know Vivian that well either, except for the fact that she could cut a pie in perfect triangles and serve meals at a restaurant. What a dilemma. If only she could afford to live alone.
Nancy's shoulders sagged. "I'm sure Michael was thrilled. He's found a renter—his mother no less—and a caregiver all in one. It's probably for the better. Vivian missed her chance— once again."
Claire didn't understand what Nancy meant by "once again." She wanted to ask, but thought better of it.
Nancy yawned. "I'm tired. I need to go to bed. Thanks for the tea. And
congratulations. I guess I won't have to worry about the security deposit after all." She slipped down the hall and into her bedroom.
Claire stood with the empty teacup in hand. She didn't know how to feel as Nancy disappeared behind her door. But one thing was certain—she now had a roof over her head and a job in the morning. And according to Blake, she'd be driving her Volkswagen soon. She walked into the kitchen and placed the cup into the sink. Something was still gnawing at her. Was it Michael? Could be. She still didn't know if he was or even if she wanted him to be the writer of the letter. Maybe it was her sister's reaction to Geraldine. Did she know something Claire didn't? No. She shrugged off the thought. Haley's sudden nausea must be from the pregnancy. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She was going to be an aunt.
A knock on the front door jarred her. Her body froze in place hoping whoever it was would go away. She heard another knock, but this time the pounding came with more force. Claire tiptoed through the kitchen into the family room. She inched the curtain back only enough for her left eye to peek through. What she saw shocked her. Vivian.
Could life get more complicated?
16
Claire let Vivian in, gave her a quick hug, and then knocked on Tom and Nancy's door. Tom emerged from the bedroom wearing a white T-shirt and plaid flannel pajama bottoms. Claire stood next to the brown sofa. She didn't want to pry, yet she wanted to know what would bring Vivian all this way.
"What are you doing here?" Tom paced back and forth in front of Vivian, confining her to the entryway. "Nancy's been crying all day. And now you show up to ruin what's left of the night."
"You know I don't mean any harm, Tom. I just need to talk with my sister." Vivian fidgeted with the ends of the bright pink flowered scarf around her neck. The flowers reminded Claire of the tulips she'd given her mother on a particularly hard day of chemo.
Tom ran a hand over his balding head and planted the other on his hip. "Darn you, woman. Why'd you have to come tonight? Couldn't you have worked it out over the phone?"
"Would you like tea?" Claire cut in, hoping to ease the tension. Vivian must be tired and thirsty.
"I'd love some, thank you." Vivian shifted from one foot to the other.
"Tom, can you take her coat while I heat the water?" Claire took a few tentative steps toward the kitchen. Someone had to make Vivian feel welcome.
Tom made unintelligible noises and then extended a hand.
"I don't mean to be any trouble. I've done some thinking. "Vivian handed her heavy coat to Tom but kept the scarf around her neck. "I'm sorry for intruding, but I couldn't help it. I took the afternoon Greyhound bus, splurged on a taxi, and came straight here. I didn't know it would take so long."
Nancy appeared from her bedroom. Her hair was askew, and she wore her bathrobe and slippers. "Vivian?"
Vivian nodded and grinned. "Yes, it's me, Sister."
Claire slipped into the kitchen and made tea—for the second time that night. She strained to hear the conversation in the other room, but their voices were low. If Vivian had arrived the day before, maybe Claire would've roomed with her. She dunked the tea bag in the cup of boiling water. Vivian's appearance brought back memories of working in the diner. She didn't want to ever go back to that type of work. Mr. Matley and his burned finger flashed across her mind.
She grabbed a spoon from the drawer and placed it on the saucer next to the cup, then brought it out to Vivian. Their voices hushed the minute Claire walked into the room. What would cause Vivian to ride the bus through the night to see her sister? Must have been something serious the way Nancy's arms were clamped tight across her chest. Claire dipped her head. It was none of her business. She yawned and walked down the hallway to bed, leaving Tom, Nancy, and Vivian to talk in private.
Claire stuck a piece of bread in the toaster. She'd tossed and turned for the past five hours, hearing the voices drone on late into the night before she finally drifted into a fitful sleep. Tom and Nancy were early risers, and they had yet to appear from their bedroom.
"Good morning." Vivian's voice was chipper, perky even. But then again, Vivian had had a sunny disposition when she worked with her in L.A. Vivian's light blue sweat outfit clung to her full body. "Last night Tom and Nancy told me how you ended up in their home. Small world, isn't it?" She grinned.
"I know. Can you believe it?" asked Claire.
Vivian shook her head, then shrugged her shoulders. "What are you doing up so early?"
"It's my first day on the job, and I don't want to be late. "Claire grabbed the toast and spread a thick layer of butter.
"Still waitressing?" Vivian pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down.
Claire scrunched up her nose. "Definitely not."
"You never did like working at the restaurant." Vivian laughed. "But you made nice tips."
Yeah. And it all went to Mark. Her mind didn't want to go down that road. "I got a job as a caregiver for an elderly woman. We're going to be living in a small house on Depot Hill." Claire took a bite of her toast.
"I've told you before, you're college material." Vivian grabbed a banana from the bowl in the middle of the table." Maybe you could enroll in night classes." She peeled the banana and took a bite.
College. Claire thought about it from time to time, especially when she was around Vivian. She was good for the ego. "I'll think about it. But for now, I need to do a good job for Michael's mother." Claire set her toast on a plate and joined Vivian at the table. "How's everything at the diner?"
Vivian shrugged. "I quit."
"No!" Claire clapped a hand over her mouth. "The customers love you." She thought about the cute older couple who sat in Vivian's station almost every day for their slice of pie. They'd miss her.
"Mr. Sutherland took a managerial position at a big chain restaurant. It's not the same. The new manager is a drill sergeant. I thought it was a good time for me to leave too. So, here I am—in between jobs." Vivian finished off the banana and grabbed an orange.
"What are you going to do now?"
Vivian cocked her head. "I'm eager to see what plans God has for me. Too bad you're not available to room with. I'd consider living here. Nancy's been after me to move here for years."
You're a day too late. One corner of her mouth turned up in a crooked smile. "Yeah, too bad." Claire took an apple from a bowl in the center of the table and bit into the fruit. "Did you work everything out with Nancy?"
"Yeah, I hope so. The hurt's been buried deep for so many years. We probably only skimmed the surface, but I'm willing to move forward. I want a relationship with my sister." Vivian folded her arms across her large bust. "We've been fighting so long, it doesn't seem real that our relationship might be headed in the right direction."
Would she and Haley allow years to go by without reconciling? Claire pulled in a breath. "Anything I can help you with?" She placed her half-eaten apple on her plate.
"Pray."
Pray? She'd heard Blake give thanks before meals. Do people talk to God about other things too?
"I've learned to lean on the Lord. And I know Nancy does too. There's no other way this wedge between us can totally be resolved." Vivian chuckled. "Prayer and maybe Tom taking an extended vacation. That man doesn't like me much. When I hurt Nancy, I hurt him as well."
How did Vivian hurt Nancy? Claire couldn't imagine.
Vivian stood. "It was so good to see you, Claire. I hope I didn't startle you too badly last night."
"It's all right." Claire grinned. "It was good to see you, too."
Vivian lumbered into the family room. Claire placed her plate in the dishwasher and leaned against the counter. She was no closer this morning to finding out what had happened between Nancy and Vivian than she was last night. Not that it was any of her business, but she cared for both women and wanted to see each one happy.
Pray. She'd been hearing about prayer lately—Blake, then Nancy, and now Vivian. It was an interesting concept. She'd have to pay attention to how Blake t
alked to God. Claire smiled. Blake could teach her many things. "Look out, neighbor, here I come."
Michael parked his car in the driveway of the rental house. He opened the passenger door and helped his aging mother out of the car. He had learned once before not to pull her up, but to allow her to use her leg muscles to get to a standing position. "Here's your walker, Mom." He was missing a few hours' work—precious time to drum up business—to help his mother move into the rental.
She tilted her chin heavenward and took in a big breath. "Smell that ocean air. I'm going to like it here."
Obviously, his mother was not on his timetable. "Let's get you into the house so you can claim your room." He winked.
"Oh, you. I'm not a child, so you can quit teasing me. I'm sure either bedroom will be fine." His mother playfully swatted the air. "What time did you ask Claire to be here?"
"Ten." Michael glanced at his watch. "We're a little early." The small moving truck sat parked in front of the house. "That was nice of your friends to drive your things up for you."
"Wasn't it? They cleared my apartment at Regis Retirement Living and wanted to drive up the coast. They're going to fly back down to L.A. tomorrow." She shuffled toward the front door.
"Do you think you can manage the front steps or should I build you a ramp?" Michael surveyed the height of the steps, something he took for granted.
"I never liked the looks of a ramp. It screams 'old person lives here.' A sturdy handrail might be nice, though."
He agreed. "I'll get right on that." Or hire someone. He didn't want to fork out any more money on the house, but if it kept his mother safe, he'd do it.
Once inside, the scent of cleaner mixed with paint brought a smile to Michael's face. His mother liked things neat and tidy. The smell alone would make her feel comfortable. "I'll see if Blake's home. I should have thought about getting another man to help unload the furniture. I'll get your recliner first, so you can sit down."
"Oh, don't worry about me. My walker here has a built-in seat." She headed into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. "Looks like someone's been shopping."