California Dreaming: Four Contemporary Romances

by Casey Dawes

  “Oh.” She pursed her lips. “Ruiz is with my parents. If I’d known you were coming…” She glanced at David.

  A flame of anger arose in his belly. Theresa was finally doing what he’d asked and moving on. Why did it piss him off so much?

  He hardened his gaze and stared at Theresa, wallowing in his anger without really understanding its cause.

  “James, this is David. He’s a friend of mine from work.”

  “I see.”

  She frowned. “Mateo’s gone, and you, well, you’ve made it clear you’re not interested in a relationship with me.”

  He’d done exactly that because he didn’t want to be involved with her ever again. But he hadn’t really thought through the consequences of his rejection. Of course she’d move on. “What about Ruiz?”

  “I like kids.” David’s voice had an edge to it. “Theresa told me the situation.”

  Territorial already.

  James clenched his teeth. This man was going to be more involved in his son’s life than he was. Why had he agreed with Theresa? Stupid.

  For now he’d go along. He put out his hand, and after a brief moment, David took it and shook.

  “If you know the situation, you know I’ll be stopping by often.”

  David nodded. “All I ask is you call first and make arrangements with Theresa.”

  James looked back at Mateo’s widow.

  She nodded agreement.

  James stuffed his pride in his back pocket. “Got it. The trip down here was unexpected. I needed to pick up supplies. I’ll be sure to give you a call before I come next time.”

  “That would be good,” she said.

  “Give Ruiz a hug for me.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  James turned and walked down the sidewalk to the gate in the chain-link fence. As he drove down the street toward the freeway, his heart was heavy with sorrow. When he was done with the movie, he’d need to think hard and long about renegotiating with Theresa. Maybe Ruiz should know the truth.

  God, it was so difficult to know what was right. If he’d known about the baby, he would have married Theresa, but he wasn’t given that opportunity. At some level he still hated Ruiz’s mother for her deception. His friendship with Mateo had never been the same either.

  And yet, he’d gone along with them. He was an idiot to even allow himself to be talked into it.

  James pounded the steering wheel in frustration. Should he see a lawyer? A child psychologist? He’d never told anyone about Ruiz. His child was a secret that ate away his insides.

  Would Mandy understand? She was a good listener—sympathetic and kind. She’d demonstrated that over and over, even when he was being an ass.

  A whisper of hope lightened the angst in his heart as he took the entrance to the south, to head to his parents’ home for the evening. A home-cooked meal without any egos would be a treat before he headed back to Yosemite in the morning.

  His mother was in the kitchen when he got there. She enveloped him in a big hug when he walked in. “How nice to see you!”

  “You, too.” He returned the hug.

  “How long are you here?”

  “Stayed at the apartment last night and I have to leave tomorrow morning.” He headed to the refrigerator. “Where’s Dad?”

  “At the shop. Some rush order for the army.”

  James pulled out sandwich makings—salami, ham, sliced provolone, mayo, lettuce, and tomato. With three boys, his mother always kept the fridge stocked. He pulled a sourdough roll from the breadbox and began assembly.

  His mother chattered on about his brothers, his successful, married brothers. James let the words waft past him. While his mother never pushed him to settle down, she never stopped oohing over his brothers’ wives, jobs, and her grandchild.

  Subtle.

  Like a brick.

  He finished making his sandwich and took it to the table.

  “Not that I don’t like to see you,” his mother said, “but why are you here and what’s the matter? You look like the weight of the world is on your shoulders.”

  In between bites of his sandwich, he told her about the incident on the set.

  “Was it sabotage?” she asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Against you or someone else?”

  Her question made him think. The only people the delay hurt were Beth Ann, the producer, and James. The producer and Beth Ann would lose money; James and potentially Beth Ann would have their reputation damaged.

  “Everyone likes Beth Ann,” he said. “She’s tough, but fair, and makes a good movie. The producer is too distant for someone to do something this petty. That leaves me.”

  “Could it be random? Someone doing it for kicks?”

  “God, I hope not.” James pushed back his chair and got some coffee. He raised the coffee pot and looked at his mother, his eyebrows arched in question.

  She nodded, and he filled her cup.

  “Could it be revenge against someone in the cast?”

  “Maybe, but the incident doesn’t hurt any of the actors or crew.”

  Only me.

  “Be careful,” his mother said.

  “I will, Mom.”

  She leaned back and studied him. “You seem really unhappy. Is there something else? Having problems with your grand plan?”

  He shook his head. “Everything’s fine.”

  She stood and went to the sink to rinse her cup. “Let me know when you’re ready to talk. You staying the night? I’m going to the store. Anything you want in particular?”

  “Yes, I’m staying, and anything you fix is fine with me.”

  “Good. I’m making lasagna. David, June, and Chrissy are coming for dinner.”

  More pressure.

  He leaned against the counter, hoping to portray a casualness he didn’t feel. “Mom, there’s this girl.”

  “Ahh.” She pulled a list from under a refrigerator magnet and put it on the counter. “An actor?”

  “No. She’s working for Sally. I met her in Costanoa and got her the job.” He shrugged. “Sally needed someone and this gal was looking for something.”

  “This gal have a name?”

  “Mandy.”

  His mother added a few things to the list. “So what’s Mandy got that’s perked your interest?” She looked at him for a second. “Besides the obvious.”

  “Obvious?”

  She laughed. “She’s attractive to you in—” She waved her hand. “That way.”

  “Who says she perked my interest?”

  His mother put down her pen and gave him “the look,” the one that could pry any truth from his mouth. “Other than the fact you never mention women since Theresa left you for Mateo. Other than you gave a perfect stranger a job on your set when you’re trying to achieve perfection so you can get ahead in your career? You mean other than that?”

  She had him.

  He stared at the ceiling, searching for the phrases that would get him the answers he wanted without revealing too much. All he needed was his mother hounding him about Mandy.

  “She’s cute.”

  “I see.” She wrote a few notes on her list.

  He cracked his knuckles.

  His mother hissed out a breath.

  “Sorry. She’s … I don’t know, she makes me want to look out for her. She’s sweet and vulnerable. She makes me want to give her everything she’s ever wanted, and I haven’t the faintest idea why.”

  He rolled his own words around his head, sucking on their truth.

  “You do have a protective streak. Kind of like your father. All you boys have it, but you were the one who always brought home injured birds and stray kittens. But it sounds like it’s something more than that. You might be falling in love.”

  Hell, no. He shook his head.

  “I think you’re afraid of the entanglement because it might mess up your plan.”

  “I doubt it. I let women know the score before we get involved.”
r />   “So why can’t you do that with Mandy?”

  He didn’t have a good answer for that, which was why he’d started the conversation in the first place. Bad move.

  She scribbled a few more notes, put down her pen, and stared at him. “Sounds pretty cold, James. I don’t know what happened to make you shy away from relationships so much. You used to love girls.” She picked the pen up and tapped it on the counter a few times. “You seemed pretty serious about Theresa until Mateo swept her off her feet. You’ve never said what really happened there.”

  He shrugged. “Nothing. She just liked him better.” His mother could use all the looks she wanted, but that was all he was ever going to tell her. He put his plate in the dishwasher.

  “I see.” She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “What are you going to do about this girl—Mandy?”

  “I’d like to get to know her better, have fun—you know, just be friends. But I don’t seem to be able to keep it light. She says I’m confusing her, wants me to leave her alone.”

  His mother laughed and leaned against the counter, mimicking his stance. “Sounds like you’re confused yourself; no wonder she’s unhappy with you.” She tapped her pen against her lips. “You know, you’d make a great husband if you could give up this nonsense about life needing to be in a certain order.”

  “I’m not ready to get into a serious relationship.” He made his words as forceful as he could. “I’ll get married once I get an assistant producer’s job.”

  “What if you fall in love before that?”

  “Not going to happen.”

  “Life doesn’t work that way, and it’s going to kick you in the rear one of these days to remind you of that fact.”

  He shrugged.

  “And leave Mandy alone.” She pointed her pen at him. “She sounds like a nice girl who doesn’t need you riding roughshod over her.”

  He pushed himself off the counter. “I think I’ll see if the mailman came yet.” Misery accompanied him out to the mailbox on the front porch. Instead of opening the box, he sat on the porch swing and stared at the distance, not really seeing anything.

  He had a choice looming in front of him: keep to his life plan or get closer to Mandy. He wanted both, but he suspected his mother was right.

  Life didn’t come in a neat, tidy, package.

  Chapter 13

  A week after her hike with James, Mandy drove to Costanoa. She’d made an appointment with a therapist Monday morning. Sally had been accommodating about her time off, but handed her a grocery list before she left.

  The trip from Yosemite to Costanoa was without problems. Mandy spent an hour with Hunter, Sarah, and Hannah, before she slipped into her own bed and feel asleep.

  After a leisurely breakfast catching up on inn events, Mandy followed the directions to the therapist’s office in a nondescript office park and entered his waiting room. A sign directed her to take a seat and wait.

  Within a few minutes the inner door opened, and a slight man in a button-down shirt and pressed gray pants stepped out. “I’m Doctor Graham. Mandy Parker?”

  She nodded.

  “Come on in.”

  With shaking hands she laid the magazine down on the end table and followed him into the other room.

  “Why don’t you have a seat?”

  Mandy eyed the black couch before perching on one end.

  Dr. Graham sat in a chair opposite, crossed his legs, and settled a yellow legal pad on his lap. “From what you said when we set up the appointment, you’re concerned you might be bipolar. Can you tell me more about that?”

  Mandy’s mouth was dry. “My—my mother was diagnosed with the disease.”

  “I see. When was that?”

  “When I was a teenager.”

  “Was she hospitalized?”

  Mandy nodded. Then the words began to spill out. She told the doctor what she remembered about her mother’s frantic episodes, days when she’d disappear from their home, followed by days when she’d never get out of bed.

  “Where was your father during all this?”

  “My parents divorced when I was five. Dana—my father—I never saw him again.”

  Dr. Graham’s eyebrows arched to an impossible degree. “How is that? Didn’t he call you? Have visitation?”

  She shook her head. “Lola—my mother—hated Dana. She moved us to New Jersey after the divorce was final. Somehow she got full custody. Probably slept with the judge to get it.” Her laugh was bitter.

  “And?” Dr. Graham prompted. “Your father still should have had some rights.”

  Mandy shrugged. “Lola found me trying to call him once when I was about eight. I must have found his number in her papers somewhere.” She looked at the therapist. “I was a terrible snoop.” She took a deep breath. “Lola spanked me and sent me to my room without supper. I never tried it again.” Her breath hitched.

  Dr. Graham gestured toward the box of tissues on the couch. “Did your father ever try to see you?”

  Mandy searched her mind. “Maybe. Lola used to send me to a friend of hers for long weekends. It would happen all of a sudden, without warning. Maybe Dana tried to see me then.” A faint flicker of hope wafted into her heart.

  She extinguished it. Lola was the only parent she knew. She may be crazy, but she wouldn’t lie to her child, would she?

  “Where were you when your mother was institutionalized?”

  “At my mother’s friend’s house. I stayed there while my mother was—you know.”

  “Did she go in voluntarily?” Dr. Graham’s questions were relentless.

  Mandy couldn’t remember. “I don’t know. She always blamed Dana for committing her, but how could he have? He was never around.”

  “Have you been in touch with your father since you moved out of your mother’s house? He might be able to help you clear up what happened.”

  “No. Lola told me all I needed to know about him. He didn’t want me, and I don’t want him.”

  “I see.” Dr. Graham studied her for a moment, then smoothed his paper and then wrote notes.

  I’m glad you can.

  “What’s your life like now?” he asked. “Are there things you do that remind you of your mother?”

  “Sometimes I want to sleep all day—just shut it all out and forget my problems.”

  Dr. Graham smiled. “All of us have those days. Do you spend a day in bed? More than one?”

  She looked at the floor. “A day. Sometimes.” She looked up. “But then everything gets brighter all of a sudden, and I feel like I could do anything.” She smiled at Dr. Graham. Would he tell her she was imagining things?

  His face was impassive.

  Realization struck. “Oh, God. I’ve got it, don’t I? I’m bipolar.” Tears began to fall, and she grabbed a tissue.

  “It’s too early to tell.” He waited until she stopped crying. “I’m going to go through some diagnostic questions with you. Okay?”

  Mandy nodded.

  Dr. Graham asked her several specific questions about her sleep habits and how much energy she had at times. As she answered “yes” to many of the questions, Mandy’s spirits dropped. She was bipolar—doomed to be a vapid characterization of her mercurial mother.

  When he was finished with the survey, she said, “I have it, don’t I?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so, but the answers are borderline, so I’m going to do some physical tests.” He pawed through a folder and pulled out a few sheets of pre-printed papers. He signed the one on top and handed it to her. “Here’s a request for lab tests. We’ll check your blood and urine to see if there’s a physical cause for your symptoms.”

  “You mean, like cancer or something?” She imagined herself wasting away on a couch, her friends gathered around her to admire her braveness in face of the devastating illness.

  He chuckled. “You should see the expression on your face. It appears your mother’s acting genes weren’t lost. No, I don’t think you
have cancer.” He handed her another sheet of paper. “I’d like you to spend the next two weeks tracking your moods. That will give us a better idea of where you are.”

  He was quiet as she studied the form. Simple enough to do. “Okay,” she said.

  “I wish you could come in more often than every other week so we could get to the root of this quickly and relieve your anxiety.”

  “Sorry. I’m only able to get a few days off every other weekend, but it’s only for about four more weeks. Then I’ll be back in Costanoa, and you can shrink me as much as you want.” She tried to smile with her lame joke.

  He chuckled. “Good. I think you’ll be just fine, Ms. Parker.”

  A little bit of heaviness left her heart.

  When the session was over, Mandy stopped by several of the supermarkets in the area for fresh produce and the few staples Sally had asked for. The glimmer of hope stayed with her. If she wasn’t bipolar, life would be a lot simpler. She could stop worrying and move forward.

  Once the chores were completed, she checked her watch. No time to stop at the inn to have another chat with Sarah. Instead she headed toward Highway 17 for the four-hour drive to the park.

  • • •

  “Your time on the coast must have done you some good,” Sally said as she cracked eggs into a bowl. “There’s a glow in your cheeks, and you’re a little calmer.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Sally whisked the eggs into a froth. “In a small space like this, moods rub off.” She whisked the eggs harder.

  Mandy laughed. Sally was right. Emotions cycloned in the tiny trailer.

  Her boss put down the whisk, grabbed their coffee mugs, poured, and handed one to Mandy. “Spill. What happened?”

  Mandy put her mug on the counter and bit her lower lip.

  “Look,” Sally said. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m not here to judge you—I want to celebrate with you! Something significant happened.” She placed her coffee cup down. “Either you got laid by a seriously hunky guy, you inherited a million dollars, or you discovered something that eased the pressure. Am I right?”

  “I’ll pick door number three.” Mandy’s laugh sputtered from her lips.

  Once their mutual laughter died down, Mandy told Sally the gist of her conversation with Dr. Graham. Then she pulled her mood sheet from her purse, noted the time, and wrote “happy.”