Falling Angel

“Hi.” Her voice was unnaturally high. “Come in.”

  “I think I’m illegally parked,” he said. “My truck’s out front. Maybe we could go someplace?”

  “Sure. Let me get my bag.”

  In the car, they were silent. She felt as though she were sitting next to a stranger. His hands on the wheel, with their thick, calloused fingers and fine sproutings of blonde hair on the knuckles, were familiar to her. Judging from the look of them, he had returned to manual labor.

  One thing she didn’t recognize was the gold band he wore on his ring finger.

  “I’ve been working at a co-op farm,” he said, as though she had spoken aloud. “Been doing it about two years now.”

  “How do you like it?”

  “I like it well enough. Matter of fact, I’m buying into it. So, if you’re sticking around here,” he cast her a sideways look, “we can see a lot more of each other.”

  He drove through the University District and headed north to 65th Street before turning left. They passed a sign for the Woodland Park Zoo. Cara sat up straighter. Oh, no, she thought.

  Minutes later, her father pulled into the South parking lot, already filling up with mini-vans, buses of schoolchildren and harried full-time moms and nannies with tots in tow.

  “Here we are,” he said, opening her door for her. “I thought it would be fun to check it out.”

  She took his hand without a word and he helped her from the truck.

  She remembered sitting on a wall one frigid Chicago morning almost two decades ago when he told her he was leaving. Stunned immobile, ice cream dribbling down her mitten into the sleeve of her parka.

  “Two adults please,” Daniel told the woman at the entrance.

  He paid their admission and they walked through to the East African village exhibit. Native music piped through a sound system as they stood by a plate glass window that looked onto a verdant hillside.

  Directly in front of them, ducks floated in a small stream, while giraffes, gazelles and zebras roamed the “savannah” slopes above. Small children pressed snotty noses and sticky fingers against the glass for a cursory look before dashing off to explore the thatch-roofed huts of the village.

  “Boy,” said her father. “There was nothing like this at Lincoln Park. Remember how you used to love that working farm?”

  “I remember.” Cara turned away from the glass and stalked out of the village, her father loping along easily beside her on his long legs. They took the main loop, heading north.

  At the hippo pond, her father laughed as one of the huge mammals broke the surface, snorting air through its nostrils with a flatulent sound. Cara rolled her eyes.

  Noting her lack of amusement, Daniel moved away from the pond. “Let’s go see the elephants,” he suggested.

  The enclosure was empty. A sign informed them that the elephants were at their annual veterinary checkup. Small groups of people showed up expectantly and then drifted away, disappointed.

  Cara walked a few feet down a dirt trail and sat on a wooden bench. After a moment, her father joined her.

  “You’re not enjoying this,” he stated flatly.

  “What did you think?” She couldn’t bring herself to call him dad again; it sounded too awkward. “That we could pick up where we left off? I’m not a child anymore.”

  Daniel hunched his shoulders. “You’re right. It was a stupid idea.”

  Cara traced a line in the dirt with her shoe. She felt as though she were seven years old again, sulky and fretful.

  “If it makes a difference, losing you was hell on me.”

  “You certainly didn’t try very hard to stay in touch.”

  “Your mother asked me not to. She said it was better for you, less painful, if I kept my distance. When you moved out, went off to college, I tried to find you. I figured you were old enough by then to make up your own mind about seeing me. She wouldn’t tell me where you were.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “It’s the truth. You can ask her yourself.”

  Cara shook her head. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters a lot. If I could go back and do things differently, I would.” He took off his cap, twisting it in his hands. “Even after all that happened, I tried to make it work. I loved you both.”

  Cara met his gaze for the first time. “So why did you leave?”

  “Louise didn’t want me around any more. She made that pretty clear.”

  “How?”

  He twisted his lower jaw to the side and winced as though suffering from a bad toothache. “She had other men. When I was on the road. Didn’t even make an effort to hide it. It was like she wanted me to know.”

  Cara let out a long breath. “So that’s what it was.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you knew.”

  “I didn’t. But lately I’d started to suspect something of the sort.”

  “I couldn’t take it,” he said. “So I quit my job. I hoped if I found something closer to home she wouldn’t get so lonesome. That’s when she told me the job wasn’t the problem. It was me. I would have stayed, even then. But our problems were bigger than that. Your mother was never satisfied with life as a farmer’s wife. She wanted more. I sold the family farm, tried to please her, but I finally had to recognize that I wasn’t happy doing anything else.” His forehead crinkled at the recollection. “For a while there, we made each other pretty darn miserable. After I quit my job, we both said a lot of things we probably shouldn’t have. And I left.”

  Cara could relate to that. She remembered, after catching Barry cheating on her with her best friend, her main impulse had been to get as far away as possible from him and everyone associated with him.

  Her rift with Ben made her feel the same way; like a trapped animal desperate to escape. No doubt about it, she was her father’s daughter.

  Putting an arm around Cara, Daniel gave her a tentative squeeze. “I know I can’t make up to you the time that’s been lost. But now I’ve found you, I hope you’ll let me come and see you sometimes. If you’re comfortable with it, you could come and visit us, too.”

  Cara gestured at the ring on his finger. “You’re married again?”

  “Marsha and I tied the knot last year. I started out working for her, and now we’re running the farm together. You’d like her, I think. She’s very natural, very kind. She’s got two grown sons of her own. Real nice boys. There’s plenty of room in the house for visitors.”

  “I’d like to meet her,” Cara said.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  After Daniel dropped her off, Cara brewed a cup of tea and took a long, hot soak in the tub.

  Then she called Ingrid.

  “I met my dad,” she said. Briefly, she filled Ingrid in on how she had discovered his whereabouts, and the first afternoon they had spent together since she was a child.

  “Oh, darling!” said Ingrid. “Are you ok?”

  “I’m fine. In fact, I feel good. It took me this long to understand that it wasn’t my fault he left. He told me about the affairs.”

  Ingrid let out a long breath. “I’m glad. I don’t think it was right to hide that from you. It gave you such a skewed perspective of what happened between your parents. I hope you won’t judge your mother too harshly for behaving the way she did.”

  “I gave up believing my parents were infallible a long time ago. Anyway, I really called to thank you for giving me the photos. Without them, this wouldn’t have happened. I would still be thinking he had abandoned me because he didn’t love me. I know it was stupid of me to ever think that, but it’s hard to get some ideas out of your head. Understanding the context of his leaving really helps.”

  “None of us should feel trapped by our past,” said Ingrid. “It can distort the present to an unhealthy degree. I’m so happy you’ve found some closure.”

  “Me too. Now, if only the rest of my life weren’t a complete mess.”

  When Ingrid pressed her, Cara filled her in on wh
at had happened between her and Ben, and how she had fallen out with Ann. It was a relief to tell someone the whole story, and Ingrid was a sympathetic listener.

  “I’m so sorry, Cara. Now, listen. I want you to pack your bags at once, and come and stay with me. No arguments! You know how much Paul travels, and how much I enjoy your company. Stay as long as you like. You can have a whole wing of the house to yourself.”

  Cara’s spirits rose at the sincerity in Ingrid’s voice. “Wouldn’t I be in the way?”

  “Don’t talk rubbish! You’ll be a breath of fresh air. Not to mention you’ll have no excuses for being late to work!”

  After the call, Cara sat down heavily, exhausted by the ups and downs of the day. How strange it was, she mused, that when she had felt at her lowest, letting go of David and Ann, her father had come back into her life, and Ingrid had stepped up to support her.

  She longed to go to bed and put this emotional volcano of a day behind her. But before she did, she had one more phone call to make.

  . . .

  Andrew Walker answered the phone. “Nice to hear from you, Cara. Louise is out walking Jemma.”

  Cara was disappointed. She had worked herself up to making the call and knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until she’d spoken to Louise.

  “Please tell her to call me tonight, would you?”

  “Of course. Wait a minute, I hear someone at the door. Ah, there you are. Cara’s on the line for you.”

  She heard her mother’s voice, excited and slightly breathless, as she fussed over the dog for a few moments before taking the phone.

  “I’ve just been out with Jemma, dear, and now her little paws are all muddy. Get me a towel, Andrew, would you? There now, how’s that, my little pumpkin? All clean!”

  Cara struggled to contain her impatience. “Hey mom. Do you think you could talk somewhere private?”

  “Why? Is something wrong?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about dad.”

  “All right, hold on a minute . . . There. I’m in the study. Now what’s all this about?”

  “Well, I just wanted you to know, I found him.”

  There was silence on the line.

  “He lives in Tacoma. Really close to here.”

  “I thought he was still in New Mexico.” Her mother’s voice had a tremor in it, full of an emotion Cara couldn’t interpret.

  “We me. We talked about the divorce. He told me everything.”

  “And you believed him.” Louise had her voice under control now.

  “What motive could he have to lie?”

  “To make me look bad.”

  “Are you telling me it’s not true?”

  There was another long pause. “I’m your mother,” Louise said with heat. “It’s not your place to judge me.”

  “Isn’t it?” Cara stood up and walked over to the window. Outside, a cool, wet wind swayed the branches of the trees, and the sky was dark with brewing storm clouds. “All my life, you made dad out to be the bad guy. You painted all his qualities and values in a negative light. You made me think he was evil, and that I was wrong to care about him and miss him.”

  “I only ever wanted to protect you from getting hurt. I didn’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”

  “But we’re very different people, mom. Did it ever occur to you that the things that would make you miserable in a relationship may be exactly the things that I’m looking for?”

  “Your father was an obstinate dreamer. He was unable to function properly in the real world.”

  “Unable to function in your world, you mean.”

  “Look, Cara, this is ancient history now. It’s all in the past.”

  “It isn’t for me,” Cara said quietly. “This is what’s defined me. For far too long.”

  “You’re grown up now. Free to interpret the past however you like, and to make whatever choices you want in the present. I can’t stop you. I don’t want to stop you.” Louise sighed heavily. “I always wanted what’s best for you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  Cara felt frustrated when she hung up the phone. Why couldn’t her mother see the way she had warped her vision? Why couldn’t she at least acknowledge that Cara’s feelings were as valid as her own?

  Then she smiled ruefully to herself. It was pointless to try and get her mother to change or to become more self-aware. The only person Cara was capable of changing was herself.

  Moving to her purse, she took out the special ceramic glue she had purchased at the hardware store. She pulled open her dresser drawer and carefully retrieved the broken statue pieces. It was time to try and put the pieces back together.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Alicia smiled serenely as she glided into the gallery on the arm of Ben Kilpatrick.

  It had taken a long time for her to convince him to trust her again, after the way she had unceremoniously dumped him last year. She still bitterly regretted that she hadn’t held on to him a little longer before writing him off. But how was she to know that his star would rise so quickly in the local and international art world; that he would go from struggling artist to commercial success practically overnight? Now, he routinely brought in six-figure commissions for his larger works on canvas, and his smaller sculptural pieces were in great demand in private collections across the nation. Alicia could scream with frustration that she’d ever told him that he couldn’t afford her. Why hadn’t she kept her big mouth shut?

  Well, it’s all turning around again now, she told herself. She squeezed his arm.

  “Everything all right?” he asked.

  “Wonderful,” she said, flashing her brightest smile.

  Ever since the reception at the Fineman’s house last week, Ben had been much friendlier to her, and Alicia harbored a secret hope that they would soon pick up again where they had left off. Too bad he was taking off to Paris for the summer. Although, come to think of it, a summer vacation in the most romantic city in the world wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

  Even though Ben was leaving in a few days, he had agreed to accompany her to the Art Walk. She, Alicia, and not that hysterical blonde waif he’d been so hung up on a couple of weeks ago.

  Despite her attempts to engage him in conversation, he’d seemed distracted all evening, but Alicia chalked it up to his imminent departure. There’d be plenty of time for them to get reacquainted on his return.

  As they stood at the entrance to the gallery, a skinny, black-haired girl dressed in a red kilt with a garish red bow in her hair tapped Ben on the shoulder. “Excuse me. It’s Ben, right?”

  Ben turned, and Alicia tightened her grip on his arm. She watched as his lip curled at the sight of the strange girl. “Hello, Ann,” he said, and turned away again.

  Ann tugged insistently at his sleeve. “Please, would you hear me out?” She glanced at Alicia, as though wishing she would go away. Alicia glared back at her.

  “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry for messing things up between you and Cara,” Ann said.

  “How did you mess anything up?”

  “By telling you she was out with David.”

  “Hey, you did me a favor. Knowing her, she never would have told me she was engaged to someone else.”

  Ann frowned. “Engaged?”

  “Excuse me.” Alicia cut in smoothly. “I’d like to see the show now.”

  “Go ahead,” said Ben. “I’ll be right there.”

  Alicia didn’t move. She had no intention of missing this conversation. Ann looked at her appraisingly before turning to Ben again.

  “Cara was really upset about what happened. She really liked you. And she’s definitely not engaged to David.”

  “Really.” Ben’s face was inscrutable.

  “In fact,” Ann said slowly, “I may have exaggerated her relationship with him a little. I don’t know for sure if anything was going on between them. She was furious at me for telling you about it.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore,” Ben said. “I’m l
eaving town on Saturday for Paris. I’ll be there for six weeks, maybe longer. Tell her it’s all water under the bridge.”

  “I would, but she’s moved out. I don’t even know where she went.”

  Ben leaned closer so she could hear him in the noisy room. Alicia had to strain to hear his words. “If you see her, tell her I said goodbye. Tell her I hope she finds what she’s looking for.”

  Alicia shot Ann a cool glance as she and Ben moved further into the gallery.

  “What was that all about?” she asked him lightly, accepting a champagne flute from a passing tray.

  “Nothing,” said Ben. “Let’s look at the art.”

  But as they moved through the gallery, pausing to look at the paintings and installations, Alicia knew she had lost him. His eyes were fixed, seeing nothing, his mouth set in a hard, thin line. She felt a stab of anger. Even though she clearly was out of the picture, Cara might as well have been right there in the room with them. She would have to find a way to take Ben’s mind off his unhappy love affair. Alicia smiled grimly. If there was anyone who could, it was her. She was nothing if not resourceful.

  . . .

  Relieved to find her old key still worked, Cara opened the door to the apartment. Ann looked up from the couch across the room. Even though Cara no longer had any say in the matter, she stubbed out her cigarette with a guilty expression.

  “I thought you worked Fridays,” Cara said, dismayed to find her there.

  “They changed my schedule.” Ann pointed. “Your box is on the table.”

  “Thanks.” Cara hefted the oversized cardboard box in her arms, keeping the door open with one foot as she attempted to exit the apartment.

  “I ran into Ben last night,” Ann said.

  Cara froze in the doorway.

  “At the Art Walk. He asked me to tell you something if I saw you . . . “ Ann crinkled her nose, trying to remember. “That he hopes you get what you need, or something like that. He’s leaving town this weekend.”

  Cara dropped the box, which landed squarely on her foot. The top flew open, and books, clothes and toiletries spilled out onto the floor. “Damn!” Cara cried, and kneeled down to gather everything up again. Ann came over to help.