Like That Endless Cambria Sky

by Linda Seed

  Maybe Gen couldn’t see any progress in whatever it was Kendrick was doing, but she knew from his demeanor that Kendrick could see it, and so she felt a giddy optimism that he was on the verge of something good. And moving outside—that would be part of it, whatever this thing turned out to be. Going out into nature, into the fresh air, was a new ingredient in the blender, and it was what she’d envisioned for him all along.

  “Hey. Did you see Kendrick out there by the creek?” Gen asked Ryan as she approached him outside of the main house one day in mid-July. She was walking up the driveway, and he was replacing an aging railing on the front porch. He smiled when he saw her.

  “Yeah. He was already there when I passed by that way early this morning.” He got up from where he’d been squatting on the porch and wiped his hands on a rag he’d pulled from his toolbox.

  “That’s got to be good, right?” Gen said.

  “I dunno. You tell me. You’re the art expert.” He came down the stairs and onto the driveway, striding toward her.

  “I think it’s got to be good.”

  “Then it probably is.”

  When he got to her, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him with a swiftness that left her breathless. They’d been dating for a few weeks now. He’d slept at her house a number of times, and they’d revisited the barn as well as making some choice new memories at some of the more picturesque spots at the ranch. But still, after all that, his touch made all thoughts fly out of her head like birds heading south.

  “My question is,” Ryan said, grinning at her with amusement, “what’s Kendrick doing out there looking at the trees and the rocks and the creek, when his paintings are just splotches on a canvas?”

  “It’s all inspiration,” Gen said. “He can be inspired by the creek and the trees and the rocks, even if he’s not actually painting those things.” She thought it was a pretty good answer, given the fact that she couldn’t think straight with him holding her.

  “I guess that makes sense.” He kissed her then, so thoroughly that she felt her knees grow soft and watery, and after that all thoughts of Kendrick were forgotten.

  “Well,” she said, her voice weak and breathy. “I’m glad I stopped by.”

  “I’m glad you did, too.”

  This wasn’t supposed to be a visit to Ryan. She was supposed to be out here checking on Kendrick, and then she was supposed to get back to the gallery to plan a show that was coming up next week. But right now, the things she was supposed to be doing paled considerably in comparison to standing here and being kissed.

  She had to keep her head, despite the feel of his arms around her, the taste of his mouth, the way he looked at her …

  “Enough of that.” She pushed him away. “Now that I’ve checked on Kendrick, I’ve got to get back to the gallery. Alex is expecting me. We’ve got a show opening next week, and I can’t …”

  His dark-chocolate eyes were looking at her with a mixture of amusement, desire, and affection. She couldn’t think. She lost track of what she’d been saying.

  “Okay.” She started again. “I really have to go.”

  “All right.” He ran one hand up her arm in a gesture that she found immensely soothing and comforting. “But, listen. My mom wanted me to ask you over for dinner.”

  She blinked at him. “You mean … here? At the house? With your family?”

  “Well, this is where we usually have dinner, so, yeah.”

  He was laughing at her. Not outwardly, but she could see it in his eyes.

  “Well, that’s …” Terrifying, is what it was. He wanted her to meet his mother? Of course, she’d already met his mother, on numerous occasions, but that was informal, unofficial. This was different. He wanted her to Meet His Mother.

  “You don’t have to be nervous.” He was looking down at her with his amused gaze, and it pissed her off that he could read her expressions so easily.

  “I’m not nervous.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m not!”

  “Whatever you say.”

  She smacked him on the arm, and he laughed.

  “Look. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like you’ve never met my parents.” He sat down on the top step of the porch, and she sat beside him.

  “Right, but that was before we were dating.”

  “And they liked you before we were dating. There’s no reason they shouldn’t like you now that we are dating.” He reached out and took her hand in his.

  “But …” Oh, God. The thought of the money entered her head again. Not only were she and Ryan dating, but now the whole issue of the Delaney fortune was on the table as well. She could only imagine that Ryan’s parents would be suspicious of anyone he took a romantic interest in. They had to be looking for ulterior motives. What if they thought she was a user? What if they thought …

  “Gen,” Ryan said gently. “I know it’s a big deal when the guy you’re dating wants you to have dinner with his parents. I know that. It means you’re not just dating anymore, you’re in a relationship.”

  They sat so close that her arm was pressed against his, the length of her thigh kissing his. She felt a nervous, giddy tingle in her center. “Is that what this is? Is this a relationship, Ryan?”

  “I hope so.”

  Her heart sped up at the thought of that.

  “But if you’re not ready …” he said.

  “I might be.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “But it’s complicated.”

  “I know.” He avoided her gaze. The hammer he’d been using to fix the porch sat beside him atop his toolbox, and he picked it up and started fiddling with it. “You’re still planning to go back to New York once this thing with Kendrick is done.”

  She swallowed hard. Was she still planning that? It was hard to think with him so close to her.

  “That’s been my plan.”

  He nodded, still not looking at her.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Well. I won’t pretend that I want you to go.” He fiddled with the hammer some more. “But that’s not a decision I can make for you. You’ve got to do what’s right for you.”

  “Maybe … if I do go … would you ever …” She wanted to ask if he’d ever consider going with her, moving to New York to be with her. But she was afraid to ask the question, because she was afraid of what the answer would be.

  “Would I go with you? Is that what you want to ask me?”

  She nodded.

  “Well. That’s complicated, too.”

  “I know.”

  They were silent for a while, sitting side by side, considering the weight of the choices before them.

  “Listen,” he finally said. “All of this … it’s all going to work itself out. Dinner is just dinner. Will you come?”

  She doubted that the dinner would be just anything, but she nodded. “Of course. I’d love to.”

  “Great. Sunday?”

  Of course they had a big Sunday family dinner. Of course they did. That figured. “Sure,” she said. “Tell your mother thank you for inviting me.”

  She got up from the porch, dusted off her butt, and gathered herself to return to the gallery. She turned to him, where he was still sitting on the step.

  “Ryan?” Her heart was pounding.

  “Hmm?”

  “I …” She took a deep, steadying breath. “Nothing. I’ll see you later, okay?”

  She’d been one word, one breath, from saying I love you. She’d come so close before she’d stopped herself. Why hadn’t she said it? Did she mean it? Was this love?

  Back at the gallery, she dragged herself glumly through the front door and to her desk. She stowed her purse in the bottom drawer and plopped down onto her chair.

  “Something go wrong with Kendrick?” Alex had emerged from the back room when she came in, and now he was studying her mood.

  If they’d been in New York, Alex would have been a trim metrosexual with an expensive haircut and s
leek black clothes, probably with an eyebrow wax. But here in Cambria, Alex was just Alex, a medium-sized, brown-haired twenty-something in jeans, scuffed boots, and a flannel shirt. He hadn’t known anything about art when Gen had hired him, but he was earnest and hard-working, and he had learned fast.

  “No, Kendrick’s fine. He’s good, in fact. He’s working outside today.”

  “That’s new.”

  “It is. I think it might be really positive.”

  “So what’s wrong, then?”

  She looked at him miserably. “Ryan wants me to meet his parents.”

  “But you’ve already met his parents.”

  “No. Alex. Ryan wants me to Meet His Parents.”

  Alex’s eyes opened wider as the full meaning of her implied capitals sank in. “Oh. But you two have only been dating for a few weeks.”

  “I know.”

  “Must’ve been a pretty good few weeks.” He raised his eyebrows.

  “It was! But! This is a step! When a guy asks you to have dinner with his parents? It’s a big step, right?”

  “Yeah. I dated my last girlfriend for two years before I brought her to meet my parents.”

  “Two years!” She stretched out her arms to him in triumph. “Why don’t I get two years? I want the full two years!”

  Alex shrugged. “Well, then again, that wasn’t a very good relationship. There was a reason I didn’t want to take The Step.” He could do implied capitals, too.

  Gen considered this. “Huh.”

  “So? What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a lot to think about.”

  “Especially when you consider the Delaney fortune,” Alex added helpfully.

  “You know about that? And you didn’t tell me?”

  “I thought you knew. I thought everyone knew.”

  “Future reference?” She pointed a finger at Alex. “When your boss is dating a gazillionaire, don’t assume she knows he’s a gazillionaire.”

  Alex nodded. “Duly noted.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  In the end, Kate was the one who persuaded Gen to go. Over coffee one morning in Gen’s apartment, while Jackson was sleeping in upstairs, Kate told Gen she was being a coward for avoiding the invitation. Though she said it much more politely.

  “You’re good with people. I don’t see why this has you so freaked out,” Kate said. They were sitting on the Adirondack chairs on the patio outside Gen’s sliding glass doors, sipping from steaming mugs and looking off toward the ocean, which glowed a soft, silvery blue in the morning light.

  “How can you not see? Ugh. Weren’t you freaked out when Jackson wanted you to meet his parents?”

  “Not really. I thought it was sweet that he wanted to take that step.”

  “See?! See?! It’s a step! That’s my whole point! It’s a step!”

  “Well, of course it’s a step,” Kate said, scowling slightly. “And it’s sweet that Ryan wants to take that step, just like it was sweet of Jackson. Gen. Calm down, honey. This is a good thing.”

  “I know.” Gen sounded miserable. She felt miserable. She knew Ryan was putting himself out there in a way that was important, that meant something, but the happiness that made her feel paled in comparison to the terror of facing the scrutiny of the senior Delaneys.

  “You have to suck it up and do this,” Kate said simply.

  “Why? Why do I have to?”

  Kate looked at her pointedly. “Because Ryan is offering to take this thing between you to the next level. And if you decide not to do it—not to go to the next level—you’re making a statement about how you feel about him. And I’ll tell you what: He is a kind man with a soft heart. If you don’t have dinner with his parents, you’re not just rejecting dinner, you’re rejecting the whole next level. And that’s going to hurt him.”

  “I … Oh.”

  “You should bring a nice bottle of wine. Or maybe a pie,” Kate said, closing the subject.

  Later that day, Gen took a deep breath, sucked it up, and called Sandra Delaney. She accepted the invitation and asked whether she could help in any way. Sandra shooed off the offer, saying she would take care of everything.

  Gen thought it was still probably a good idea to bring a pie.

  By the time Gen arrived at the Delaney house on the Sunday evening in question, the butterflies in her stomach had turned into hawks, or maybe falcons, flapping their massive wings and inadvertently scratching her with their talons. She didn’t know how to act. What kind of demeanor would say, I genuinely care about your son and I’m not in it for his fortune?

  She’d carefully selected her clothing for the visit. Her usual gallery attire said I’d rather be in New York, so that was out. She knew the Delaneys were casual people; every time she’d seen Sandra at home, the woman had been wearing a football jersey and fuzzy slippers. So Gen opted for jeans, a pair of soft leather ankle boots, and a heather grey cashmere sweater.

  She showed up at their doorstep bearing a pie she’d baked herself. She hoped that the fact she’d made the pie, rather than picking one up from a bakery, would make some sort of statement. What that statement might be, she wasn’t sure.

  Breanna opened the door to Gen’s knock. Breanna was tall, like Ryan, with the same dark eyes and thick, dark hair. She looked slightly frazzled—probably from chasing the two boys around all day—but she greeted Gen with a smile that seemed warm and genuine.

  “I’m so glad you could come,” Breanna said, ushering Gen inside. She leaned toward Gen and said conspiratorially, “I’ll bet you tried to think of ways to get out of it.”

  “What? No!” Gen said.

  “Right.” Breanna grinned. “The first time I had dinner with my husband’s parents, I was terrified.”

  And there it was. That word. Husband. Is that where this was headed? Toward Ryan being her husband? The weight of it all bore down on her, and her knees almost gave out.

  “You look kind of green,” Breanna observed.

  “What? No. I’m good. It’s good.” She was babbling. She handed Breanna the pie. “Here. There’s pie.”

  Breanna peered down at the pie, which was apple crumble. Gen was a pretty good baker, but she considered the apple crumble to be her best.

  “Homemade,” Breanna observed.

  “Um … yeah. I just … you know. Threw it together.”

  “Sure.”

  Gen entered the house and was immediately surrounded by noise and chaos. Lucas and Michael were running around the living room, playing some kind of game the rules of which probably only they knew. An older man Gen recognized as Ryan’s uncle Redmond was sitting in a recliner in front of the TV, watching a baseball game and intermittently grumbling at the screen. Through the doorway that led into the kitchen, Gen could see Sandra bustling around in her fuzzy slippers. She came to the doorway to yell at the boys to stop yelling, then vanished into the kitchen once again. Ryan’s father, Orin, was padding around in socks, looking for his shoes.

  “Sandra? Where are my shoes? We’ve got company coming, and I can’t find my damned shoes!”

  “Well, it’s not my job to keep track of your shoes! You’re a grown man. Though sometimes I doubt it. I swear!” Sandra yelled back.

  “Mom? Dad? Gen’s here!” Breanna called out, bringing the disorder to a temporary stop.

  Sandra came to the doorway of the kitchen, pressed her fists to her hips, and said, “Well, I guess you’d better come on in instead of just standing there.” Then she vanished into the kitchen again.

  Orin looked up from where he’d been hunting all over the floor for his shoes, saw Gen, and grinned sheepishly. “Oh. Heh heh. Don’t mind my feet.” He wiggled his toes inside his socks. “I seem to be having a shoe crisis.”

  “Oh. Um … Are those yours, over there?” She pointed to a spot next to the fireplace, where a pair of Timberland work boots were sitting askew beside the hearth.

  Orin followed her finger to where she was pointing, and noticed the
boots with a start. “Oh! Well.” He hurried over to the boots and snatched them up.

  Lucas and Michael, apparently attracted by the presence of a new person, ran over to where Gen stood.

  “Michael, Lucas, this is Gen. Do you remember meeting her when she was here to have tea with Grandma Sandra?” Breanna spoke to them in a tone of love and infinite patience.

  “I like your hair,” Michael said. “It’s all curly and bright.”

  “Well, thank you,” Gen said.

  They ran off again, chasing one another around the coffee table.

  She heard footsteps on the stairs, and looked up to see Ryan coming down in jeans and a flannel shirt, his dark hair still wet from the shower. He smiled at Gen, and she marveled at how his smile always made the blood rush to certain parts of her body that she couldn’t mention in front of his parents. Or the kids, for that matter.

  “Hey,” he said as he descended. “It’s good to see you.”

  Any further conversation was forestalled as the boys rushed to Ryan, throwing themselves at his body. With the ease of someone who’d done it thousands of times before, he hoisted Michael up onto his shoulders, and lifted Lucas up into one arm.

  Laden with boys, Ryan came the rest of the way down the stairs and kissed Gen on the cheek as the boys giggled and squirmed. “Eww! You kissed her!” Michael cried.

  “I did,” Ryan confirmed. “And I’m gonna do it again.”

  This time, he planted a quick, chaste kiss on Gen’s lips.

  “Ewww!” both boys cried out in unison, earning them a chuckle from Ryan.

  Sandra appeared at the doorway to the kitchen again. “Well, I don’t know what’s taking you so long to get in here,” she said to Gen.

  If Gen hadn’t already spent some time with Sandra, she’d have taken the comment as a rebuke. But as it was, she understood that this was Sandra’s way of making Gen feel welcomed into the heart of the family—the kitchen.

  Pie in hand, Gen went into the kitchen and found Sandra working over a big Dutch oven. Gen set the pie down on the butcher block table in the center of the kitchen.