Nowhere but Here: A Novel

by Renee Carlino

  “That’s okay. I think Lydia will take care of it.”

  “Great,” he said. “So I’ll see you later?” I nodded. He turned around and then came right back again, pushing the door open. With a sweet look splashed across his ruggedly handsome face, he stage-whispered, “I can’t wait,” and then he was gone.

  Lydia never came back with the code. I went downstairs and raided the basket of muffins and scones before scurrying back to my room to start work on the article. No Wi-Fi was going to pose a problem, but I didn’t want to hassle anyone at the inn. Instead, I decided to hassle Jerry. I dialed his number with lightning speed.

  “Jerry Evans.”

  “Jer, I can’t get Wi-Fi here.”

  “You’re kidding? Are you going to write that in the article?”

  “I’m going to do this the old-fashioned way.”

  “What’s that, carve it into a stone tablet?”

  “Listen, I’m just going to jot down some notes on paper here and let this whole story marinate a little bit. I’ll have one of the PAs at the office do some research for me and then, when I’m back in Chicago, I’ll knock it out. Whaddaya think?”

  “Do I hear a little spark in your voice?”

  “If I had a dollar for every time you answered a question with a question . . .”

  “You sound better already, Kate. Take your time. I’m not putting a deadline on you, but that doesn’t mean you can take for fucking ever, either. All right?”

  I laughed. “I know. You’re the best, Jer.”

  By noon I had several sheets of notes scribbled out and strewn across the bed. I remembered that the itinerary was still lying half open on the long entry table. I skipped over and unfolded it to find a couple of simple lines in Jamie’s messy handwriting:

  4:OO p.m. Going into the city. That’s it. That’s all.

  Just relax and enjoy your day.

  Kisses,

  Jamie

  My heart skipped a beat when I imagined him saying the word “kisses.” I went back to my notes but couldn’t focus. All I could think about was dinner with Jamie. I decided I’d put some effort into it and try to find a dress for our date. After throwing on a pair of jeans and my ballet flats, I headed over to Susan’s office, hoping to get her input, even though part of me feared she wouldn’t approve of our date.

  When I reached the door I looked down the patio and saw Chelsea sitting on her dog pillow, looking queenly as ever. “That’s it!” I said aloud. I marched up to her, dropped to my knees, and began scratching behind her ears. She melted into a puddle of Jell-O, all splayed out on her back with her legs in the air. “Oh, you’re so much easier than you pretend to be, aren’t you? Deep down inside you’re just a sweet girl, lookin’ for some love.” Chelsea wagged her tail and stretched her arms as I scratched her neck and belly.

  The moment I stood up she went right back to her regal pose, looking straight ahead and ignoring me. If she could talk, I think she would have said, Don’t think this makes us friends. I brushed my hands on my jeans and headed into Susan’s office, where I found her typing at the computer. She looked up at me over her square glasses. “Hello, Kate. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I was wondering if you know where I can get something to wear?” She stared at me, expressionless, so I continued. “I was hoping that I could find a clothing store nearby so that I don’t have to go all the way into the city.”

  “Is that so?” Her eyes scrutinized me. I nodded shyly, wondering if coming to her might have been a bad idea. She didn’t seem possessive of Jamie as much as overprotective. Whatever it was, it seemed like more than a working relationship. “What’s the occasion?”

  I thought about my answer for a few seconds and then decided to go with the truth. After all, she already knew. “I’m going on a date with Jamie, but you already knew that. I want to look nice for him.” I held my head up high and watched as her expression turned from indifference to warmth. She smiled. I could have sworn that Susan liked it when I fought back.

  “Well. There’s a little boutique store in the town of Napa. They have some really cute dresses that I think would look stunning on you.” She wrote the address down and handed me the piece of paper.

  “Thank you . . . and I don’t think of this as a fling, just so you know. I’m not like that. I like Jamie, and I think he likes me.” She nodded but didn’t respond. I was looking for validation from her. I had no plans to hurt Jamie, but I couldn’t tell if she believed me. Worse than that, she didn’t exactly verify his feelings for me. “Thank you again for this,” I said as I headed out the door. I glanced into R.J.’s office and saw only an empty chair. Hands-on? Yeah, right.

  On my way to the car, I spotted a familiar pair of work boots. Jamie was crouching by a long wrought iron fence that surrounded the pool. From where I stood, I could see little glimmers of light popping into the air. I walked toward him hesitantly. There was a square machine on the ground, and I spotted the welding rod in his hand. He was wearing a hood and gloves, but other than that, no protective gear, just a white T-shirt and jeans. I approached unnoticed and stood over him to watch as he welded a bar back into the fence. There were sparks flying all over, and some landed on his forearms, but he seemed unaffected by it. When he finally noticed me standing beside him, he stopped immediately and turned off the welder. He stood up with ease and pushed his hood back, revealing his damp face.

  “You shouldn’t look at the light. You’ll get flash burns,” he said.

  “Where did you learn to weld?”

  “My dad taught me.” He wiped his sweaty face with the back of his arm. I noticed he had a six-inch hunting knife sheathed in a light brown leather holster attached to his belt.

  “What’s that?” I asked stupidly.

  “A knife.”

  “What for?”

  He smirked. “Cutting things.”

  I just couldn’t imagine being with a man who welded fences and cut things. That might sound stupid, but it took Stephen three days to put together a piece-of-shit IKEA desk. He had to ask the super of our building what an Allen wrench was—just another reason the super couldn’t stand him. Stephen didn’t even own a pair of jeans. He got manicures and pedicures at the same nail salon as I did. But he was educated and business savvy—he had that going for him. Yet so did Jamie, it seemed. There was nothing businesslike about Jamie, but there was something mysterious and uniquely brilliant about him. He was the best of both worlds. In my tiny, thirty-second fantasy, as I stood there staring at his knife, I imagined him fighting off wild beasts with it. Shirtless.

  “Katy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Does the knife bother you?”

  “Well, it’s not like you kill things with it,” I said, even though I was fantasizing about him doing that very thing. He arched his eyebrows very slightly, but other than that, his expression didn’t change. “Right?”

  “Well, we have rattlers here and we raise animals . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “You slaughter animals with that knife?”

  “I’m not usually the person who does that. We have a professional. I promise you, it’s very humane, but I’ve had to assist a few times in the past.”

  “I’m a vegetarian.”

  “I know, I’m sorry, but you asked.” He paused, gauging my expression. “Killing is not always violent. Sometimes it’s merciful.” He seemed repentant.

  “I was just surprised, that’s all. One less rattlesnake in my vicinity is all the better.” I smiled.

  “Where are you headed to?”

  “I’m going into Napa just to browse around for a bit.”

  “Don’t run your car into anything,” he said with no trace of humor.

  I reached out to sock him in the arm, but he caught my fist midair, brought it to his mouth, and kissed it. My knees wobbled. I turned and beg
an walking away, but when I looked back he was still watching me, just as I expected. He was smiling with curiosity in his eyes. “See you at four, sailor,” I shouted back.

  My driving skills had not improved since my accident. GPS lady got me to the boutique, but I drove half the speed limit. Cars whizzed by, honking at me the entire way. When I finally got inside the store, I spotted my dress immediately. It was a simple three-quarter-sleeve black dress with a plunging neckline. It came to just above my knee but was a little longer in the back. Perfect, I thought. Sexy, not slutty. I twirled around inside the dressing room for exactly ten seconds before changing back and heading for the register.

  “Great choice,” the young female clerk said. “Are you, by any chance, Kate from R. J. Lawson?”

  “Yes. I’m a guest there. How did you know?”

  “Susan asked that we bill your purchases to the winery. She said anything you want.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t possibly. Is this something they do often?”

  “No, I’ve never done this for them, but I know Susan. She comes in a lot. Did you want to add some shoes or jewelry?”

  “Thank you, but I think the dress is enough.” I hadn’t even looked at the price tag before she clipped it off. She wrapped the dress in pink tissue paper, slipped it into a white bag, and handed it over to me. “Enjoy. Have a lovely day.”

  I walked out to my car, a little stunned. I didn’t know if Susan was buttering me up or if everyone really was this genuinely nice at the winery. Except for stupid R.J., whom I had started to resent. Of course I had to write the article about him, because that’s what my editor wanted. R.J. was the whole reason I was here. But I found myself dreading it. I wondered how I could twist the story so that I could tell the truth about him without negatively impacting the winery itself. I could say he was philanthropic and well meaning, but I knew deep down that being truthful about his personality would take away from that. Had I known how to spin the article, I would have written it already.

  I didn’t get back to the winery until a little after three. I was supposed to meet Jamie in less than an hour. I literally ran from my car, through the parking lot, and through the main room of the inn. George laughed at me from the front desk. “Hey, George!” I yelled, and then I took two stairs at a time until I was at my door. I showered in record time, but I took great care pinning up my hair and drawing little strands out around my face. I had the black heels that I brought with me, which went perfectly with the dress. I thickened my lashes with mascara and made a few passes with the blush brush. When I got to my lips, I slowly swept the translucent gloss across my bottom lip and thought about Jamie kissing it away.

  Three knocks sounded right at four p.m. I skipped over to the door and opened it wide. The first thing I noticed was his eyes, which glimmered and squinted slightly with a look of wonder. He was wearing a black button-down dress shirt and black jeans cuffed over a pair of Converse. He looked sexy and hip, but a little dangerous, too.

  “You look . . .” and then he paused.

  “Handsome,” I said with a brazen smirk.

  “Stunning.”

  “Gorgeous.”

  His eyes glanced down to my lips. “There have been no women before you and there will be no women after you,” he said, seriously.

  I swallowed. “And he’s poetic, too.”

  He moved into the room, put his arm around me, kissed my cheek, and whispered, “You inspire me.” Once he stepped back, he opened a long black jewelry case revealing a delicate filigree chain with a floating peach-colored briolette bordered with marcasite along the top.

  “Oh my god, this is beautiful. It looks like an antique.”

  “It is.”

  “This is too much, Jamie.” I shook my head. “It’s gorgeous, really, but I can’t accept this.”

  “Of course you can, and you will. I have a friend who owns a little antique store in town. It’s not a big deal, I promise.”

  “I can’t even imagine how much this cost.”

  “Please, don’t think about that.” He took it out of the box and twirled his other finger at me. “Turn around, beautiful.” He gently brushed the loose strands of my hair aside. I could feel his warm breath on the back of my head. When he clasped the necklace, he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss on the side of my neck. “God, you smell good,” he said softly.

  I giggled from his ticklish breath. When I turned around he was smiling serenely, but he had an obvious look of desire in his eyes. “We better go now or we’ll never get out of here,” I said.

  “You are so right about that. Come on.”

  We drove across the big, red bridge and into the city of San Francisco, with its steep hills, Victorian row houses, and the famous trolley cars coasting along the main streets downtown. The energy in the city was like none other I’d experienced. Rolling down my window, I took in the sights and smells. Every time a trolley bell rang, it transported me back to another time, a time when the black-and-white photos from the winery were taken, when life was simpler. The smell of saltwater, baking bread, and wet pavement overtook my senses. We drove deeper into the city through Nob Hill and past Union Square. Jamie didn’t say much, he just let me take in the sights. We found a parking garage and parked, then he reached behind his seat and pulled out a woman’s short trench coat.

  “Susan thought you would need this, and I think she was right.” It was chillier in the city than in Napa, and I was grateful for Susan’s thoughtfulness. “It’s a shame to cover you up, but I think you’ll feel more comfortable where we’re going.” He held the jacket open for me. I slipped it on and tied the belt.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to serve dinner to some of my friends. I’m taking you to GLIDE. It’s a homeless shelter that I volunteer at.” I stopped dead in my tracks. He turned to me, and for the first time since I had met him he looked unsure of himself. “I hope that’s okay?”

  I cupped his face and kissed him softly. “Of course it is. I volunteer in Chicago. I can’t tell you how many times I tried dragging Stephen with me, but he wouldn’t have it.”

  Jamie laughed once and looked down at his feet. At first I thought he was being bashful, and then he looked up and said, “This is our first date, Katy.” He shook his finger at me. “No talking about exes.” I took ahold of his finger and pretended to bite it. “Ooh, feisty, I like it,” he said before pulling me out of the garage.

  On the way into the shelter, we saw homeless people crowding the streets. Many of them shouted “Hi” to Jamie as we passed by. I even heard one woman say, “Ooh, Jamie’s got a girlfriend.” He squeezed my hand tightly after that comment.

  Once inside the shelter kitchen, he handed me a white hat and apron to put on.

  “I look silly.”

  “Not possible. You are the sexiest volunteer I’ve ever seen.”

  The kitchen was bustling with helpers. A very tall and extremely thin man with an intimidating stare came walking toward us. I looked at Jamie for reassurance and could tell everything was okay by the way the corner of his mouth quirked up. He was amused.

  “You’re late, my man,” the tall guy said in a serious tone, which didn’t hold long.

  “But I brought an extra pair of hands. Charles, meet the lovely Kate Corbin. Kate, this is Charles, the man who runs this wonderful place.”

  He gave me an ear-splitting grin and then reached for my hand and kissed the back of it. “Lovely, indeed. Okay, let’s put you to work, and let those hands give life to these hungry folks.”

  We jumped right into serving food to a long line of hungry men, women, and children. Every single person that I had the joy of serving food to said thank you with so much sincerity and gratitude, I felt a chemical change in my heart. I had volunteered in shelters many times before, but somehow there was a stronger connection. I realized it was because of Jamie’
s presence there beside me. He laughed and told stories to everyone in line. He teased all the little kids about eating their vegetables, and he heckled some of the men about the Giants and how there was no way they were going to win the World Series again. Evidently, Jamie was a Red Sox fan, and he assured me that if the Sox ever played the Cubs at Fenway, he would be there and I would personally be responsible for showing him around Chicago. Even during the light banter, I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what it would take to see Jamie again once I left Napa.

  When the line started dwindling, I spent a little more time observing each person. There was a young woman about my age who was alone, wearing tattered clothing. I wondered what her story was. When she reached me in line, I scooped a lump of mashed potatoes onto her plate. She gave me a satisfied smile and then said, “My favorite, thank you.”

  I was willing to spend the last moments of my life doing what I was doing with Jamie because it made me feel like I had a purpose. I felt more aware of the humanity in others, something I had lost sight of since Rose’s death. Serving food to the homeless truly made me feel like I was connecting more deeply with others. It was one of the most authentic and satisfying feelings I’d had in a long time. I thought about Jamie comparing love to food, and now I was comparing charity to life through food. I looked at the blessings in my life, my ability to give my time, to have a stable job and support myself. I started to wonder if R.J. was so terrible after all. The fact that he spent so much of his own money to provide life-improving and lifesaving resources to the needy deserved some measure of my respect. He didn’t need his accomplishments to be advertised—most people had no idea what he was doing. Maybe the goodness in R.J. had rubbed off on Jamie and Susan. I was seeing everything the other way around now. Writing the article weighed heavily on me, but being out with Jamie alleviated that.

  “Katy, our replacements are here. Are you ready to go?” Jamie asked, snapping me back into reality.

  “Yes, this was wonderful. Thank you for bringing me here.” We walked hand in hand back to his truck, and I watched as Jamie metered and then gave himself a shot of insulin. We left the truck parked where it was and headed to Belden Place, a row of romantic restaurants tucked in an alley between two buildings. The area was crowded, but strangely it was one of the most romantic and intimate settings I had ever been in. Strings of twinkle lights hung across the entire width of the alley. We decided on a French restaurant, where the very young hostess greeted Jamie by name. She looked to be in her early twenties. Her short blond hair was pulled back in a slick, tiny ponytail. The collar of her black dress shirt was just low enough to reveal the cluster of pink cherries tattooed on her neck. She blinked several times in quick succession.