Shit.
“Anyway.” Her grief dulled the rich patina of her gaze. “Thanks for dinner. It’s been good seeing you again, but I really should get going.” She reached in her front pocket and withdrew a wad of cash that she tossed on the table.
“Don’t do that. I’m paying. I invited you.” I retrieved her money and tried to give it back to her.
She shook her head, her gaze as furtive as her movements. I hated that my attempt to impress her from the stage had backfired so horribly. I grabbed her arm.
“Stay a while. I want to talk some more.”
“It’s late, Ramon.”
“Tomorrow then.”
Her expression darkened. “I have plans.”
“Break them.”
“I can’t. It’s Sunday. I teach a surf class for grommets, then I visit Dominic’s dad in the afternoon.”
“Alright.” My gaze slipped from hers. I hoped she couldn’t see how much it hurt knowing she kept close ties to Patch’s father. Not that I didn’t like his old man. He was a great guy, tough, wise and caring, one of the best. I felt guilty for not trying harder to maintain lines of communication with him myself. But, I wondered about her motivation for doing so. Was it her way of keeping her husband’s memory alive rather than laying it to rest? If so that left no place for me.
Some of my panic must have shown in my face.
“How about Monday?” Her expression softening, she touched my arm. That simple act breathed hope back into my chest. “Meet me at the bottom of the stairs below the cliffs.”
Chapter Eight
* * *
Karen
“Good job, sweetie.” I ruffled the five-year-old boy’s platinum blond hair and smiled approvingly. “That was a perfect pop up.”
Arms outstretched for balance atop his foam board on the sand, he turned his head and grinned at me, showing me the big gap left by his two missing front teeth.
“Give me ten more just like that on the sand, then we’ll go out in the surf and try it for real.”
“Yes, Mrs. Campo,” he replied with a lisp.
I moved quickly along to encourage the two other kindergarten students that were my responsibility in the class of five. Simone, bright faced and beautiful in a short sleeved, shorts length wet suit, her long cinnamon sun-streaked hair pulled back in a ponytail, managed the other two with her usual aplomb. Just back into town late last night after an exhausting schedule of radio and television appearances, she seemed unruffled and effortlessly stunning. I had been awake much of the night, tossing back and forth restlessly, replaying every word and response between Ramon and myself. My braid was as frayed as my mind. I felt like a rumpled reject compared to Simone.
Still, I wore a soft smile as I glanced over at her, watching her patiently demonstrate the same techniques I was teaching my students. She and I had been friends since high school. No one was more proud of her newfound success in the music business than I was, except for maybe Linc. But I did envy the second chance she had been given with the man she had been in love with since the summer after her freshman year at college. The same summer I had met Dominic…and Ramon.
There wouldn’t be a second chance for me.
Not that I deserved one.
“I’ll stay here on shore if you’re ready to take Logan out.” Simone’s words and her touch on my arm broke me free from my introspection.
Grateful for the interruption, I nodded. “C’mon, surf king,” I told Logan, the only boy in our class, as I dragged the oversized blue and white striped foam practice board toward the water. Grinning, he jogged alongside me to keep up with my longer strides. “Let’s show the girls how we do this.”
We had to work in a shallow surf. The waves slammed us into the sand beating us both up pretty good, but the little guy soldiered on, holding his position several seconds longer on each attempt. “You rock kiddo. You’re a natural.”
Heart glittering in his baby blue eyes, Logan threw his arms around me. I didn’t hesitate to crouch down in the sand to return the hug, but deep inside I felt the stretching of the scar tissue left by a wound that would never heal.
“Run up and tell Ms. Bianchi to send Kristine into the water.” My voice revealed the tightness inside my chest. The weight of the past heavy on my shoulders I stood slowly, patted the little boy’s head to reassure him when he sensed my unease. I pulled in a steadying breath once more determining to set those longings aside. Picking up the practice board, I pointed with my chin. “Go on. Tell Kristine that it’s her turn now.”
Several hours later, a spot on my neck hot from where I must have missed it with the sunscreen, I hung up the last of the tiny wet suits beside my own inside the storage room at the back of the surf shop. I stepped into the alley where Simone and I had washed everything down and collapsed onto a beach chair beside her. “Whew.” I blew out a tired breath. “That was a workout today. I’m exhausted.”
“For you, you mean.” Her beach chair creaked as she turned to face me. “You’re the one who did all the work fighting the surf.”
A bottle clattered on metal before I could comment. We both turned our heads to the dumpster behind Hodad’s hamburger joint, two shops up the alley from where we sat. A familiar purple and gold knit cap with its iconic team logo briefly rose above the grimy rim, then disappeared. The woman. One of the street people. Sadly, part of a small contingent of them who hung out by the pier. This one was much younger than most. We called her the Laker’s girl. We didn’t know her real name. She always ran when we tried to approach her.
I gave Simone a puzzled glance. “Why didn’t she take the stuff we set out for her?”
“She ate the fresh fruit, but she only took one of the cans of food. She left the clothes and the rest of it.” Among our offerings had been a new Billabong hat with a brim. We had hoped it would keep her fair skin from getting burned. My brows drew together. “That wool cap has to be hot. I wonder why she didn’t swap it out.”
“Who knows?” Simone gave me a pointed look. “She never does more than nod at me.”
“Maybe she doesn’t have a lot to say.” I pressed my lips flat.
“Maybe,” Simone allowed. “But I wonder if she would tell me the truth if I asked her a direct question. She seems suspicious and secretive mostly.”
I frowned. I knew she wasn’t talking about the mysterious girl anymore.
“The kids and the lesson,” she continued. “We usually spread the work out evenly between us. Why the change today?”
“I just wanted to be busy, I guess.”
“Hmmm,” she mused. “I wonder if it has anything to do with a certain someone who just got back into town?”
I stopped bouncing my nervous knee and glanced away from her.
“Ash told me,” she confessed.
“Don’t,” I warned her. The same way I had warned Ramon when he had stepped too close to topics I didn’t want to discuss.
“I imagine him being around brings back old memories.”
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and nodded. Too many memories, ones that I took out and relived inside my imagination far more often than I should. A succession of images suddenly flashed through my brain. My eyes watered as I reopened them.
Simone’s gaze narrowed in concern. “I heard he went on stage at the Deck Bar. Heard you danced with him.”
Patrick or Tasha must have blabbed. I shrugged noncommittally.
“You two used to be real close before…”
“We were,” I cut in. So close. Too close. “And then we weren’t. You know the details.” I hadn’t held much back from her, except for the incident at the OB Hotel and what had happened the last time Ramon and I had been alone together.
“Well, he’s back now.” Her brows drew together. “You’re here to stay. What if…”
“Do we really have to get into this?” My tone was sharp. I stood abruptly. Folding my chair, I avoided her gaze as I hung it back on the hook on the building. Nothing had changed w
ith Ramon and me, except that we were both older, meaning I should be wiser where he was concerned. “You just got back from LA,” I told her, glancing her way to find her frowning at me. “I missed you. I would much rather talk about you and Linc and your happy future, than Ramon Martinez and my depressing past.”
“Ok, honey.” She stood, closed the distance between us and wrapped her fingers gently around my upper arms. “I just worry about you.” She cocked her head to the side as she studied me. “Spending so much time together this past month has been great, but I can tell that you’re still hurting. Maybe just barely keeping your head above the water.”
“I lost my husband.”
“I know that.”
“Everywhere I turn there are memories I can’t escape,” I admitted. “And not just ones with him.”
“I understand,” she confirmed. “Linc and Ash think maybe you should go back into counseling.”
I tensed. I knew those three were close, but I didn’t like that they were talking about me. “I’ve had enough of counseling. Nearly three whole years to be exact. I don’t want to talk about my feelings anymore.”
“So you say. But maybe you need to if you’re not moving forward. Right?”
“I am moving forward, but I can only take it day by day.” I held her gaze. She released my arms, but only to capture my hands in hers instead.
“You once gave me some good advice when my life had stalled out after Linc. You told me to get a dog or get a man.”
“My situation is different.”
“True. But in a lot of ways it’s similar. You’re holding onto your grief like I was, and that’s unhealthy.”
I tugged my hands free of hers, but I nodded. She was right. I got that. I wasn’t clueless, just in carefully structured denial. I had done some good things. I had stopped using drinking as a crutch. I was working on getting back to myself the best that I could. “It was a big step to come back to OB,” I declared, my tone probably a little too defensive.
“I agree.” She smiled at me, but it wobbled. “Don’t be mad. I don’t want us to be at odds. I love you. We all do. I think you forget how important you are to all of us. We all want what’s best for you. I want what’s best for you, and sometimes that means confronting you when I think that you’re hurting yourself.”
• • •
As I turned to take the walkway that led to Dominic’s father’s home, my stomach still churned on the things Simone had said. I knew she was right. It was easier to hide behind my grief than to get past it.
Feeling sluggish, I climbed the set of steps and stopped on the front stoop. The small bungalow before me was much the same as it had always been. Well-tended oleander lined the walk. The louvered shutters still opened to let in the breeze from the ocean a couple of streets away. But inside of the house time and circumstances had taken their toll. Mostly on Dominic’s father, his heart like mine in a state of chronic disrepair. The loss of his only son and also the woman he had remained devoted to long after her death had shrugged Franklin Campo’s strong shoulders and stamped sadness within his once steely gaze. Sure his body was still fit for duty, his haircut high and tight, but it was his eyes that betrayed the ruin. They misted readily when he opened the door. Mine did the same though I blinked through it.
“Hey, pretty Karen.” His assessing gaze swept over me as he motioned me inside. “How’s your father today?”
“He’s good. More good days this week than bad.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Tom is so happy to have you back home. Every time I run into him at the market he tells me. But you look tired. Are you still having trouble sleeping?” He took the sack of individual meals my mom had packed for him and gestured to the sofa. Perceptive as always. My circular thoughts last night had kept me awake and led me nowhere. “Have a seat.” Franklin had a way of looking at me that made it seem as though he could see right inside of me. “I’ll put these in the fridge and be right back.”
I took a seat on one end of the sofa and stared blankly out the window, but not really seeing anything but the worn thoughts inside my head until he returned. He sat on the opposite end, straightened his faded Semper Fi t-shirt, put his hands on his knees and swiveled to face me. “Tell Linette thank you for me.”
“I will.”
“I love her peach pie. Your mother spoils me. You do, too. Coming to visit me every week, as often as you called from New York when you lived there.”
“I enjoy talking with you, Sir.” I smiled softly. “I always have.” In a lot of ways, he and my father were similar souls. Each loyally committed to one woman. Each fond of dispensing advice that I tried my best over the years to follow.
“Just call me Dad. I thought you agreed on that.”
I glanced away. As my own father’s illness progressed, I would lose the wisdom of his counsel. It terrified me to imagine life without him. I wasn’t ready for that foundation to be shaken at a time when I felt like everything else had fallen apart. “You’ve earned the right to be respected, Sir.”
“I have. That’s true, but the older I get, the more I realize that I prefer relationships over respectful titles. Love is what matters most. It endures even after those we loved are gone. I think you understand that.”
I nodded. “Ok…Dad.” I loved him no matter what title I used. But I still found it uncomfortable to call him that. For many reasons. Maybe because I was losing my own. Maybe because as a retired staff sergeant in the Marines, it seemed overly familiar. But mostly I felt like I shouldn’t have that privilege because of how I had failed his son. “How’s the planting going?” I needed to find less emotionally charged topics to discuss. “Are your roses budding yet?”
“Almost. It won’t be long now.” His wise eyes narrowed. I think he knew I was redirecting him. “How about you? How are the little ones doing in the surf class?”
“Logan stood on the board several times today. You should have seen his face.”
“That’s wonderful. Are the girls in the class still giving him a hard time?”
I nodded. “But he does alright. We have a system for handling their teasing.”
“Really? What’s that?” he queried.
“He smiles at them to disarm them, then figures out a way to turn the teasing into a compliment. And I add a green Jolly Rancher to his jar every time he does.”
“You think he knows they’re just trying to get his attention?”
“He’s too young to realize that yet.” I shook my head. “But he’ll learn.”
“That’s for sure. But how about you, pretty Karen?”
“What do you mean?” I squinted my eyes at him, not because I couldn’t see him clearly. I only wore glasses for reading.
“When are you going to realize how much good is stored up in your heart and what a tragedy it is to waste it year after year blaming yourself for what happened with my boy?”
I froze like a solid block of ice. We never talked about that. His day. Mine. Surf. Flowers. Safe and approved subjects. Never Dominic’s death or the way I felt about it.
“You’re mistaken.” I shook my head, tears pricking my eyes. “Dominic was the good one. Strong. Kind. Pure hearted. Not me.”
“He was all those things, I agree. I couldn’t have asked for a better son. But give yourself some credit. He chose you. I know my boy. He would want to see you happy again. Living your life. You’ll reach the age when you realize that there is no greater joy in this world than seeing the ones you love happy. Dominic loved you. So do I. Honor us both by allowing yourself to love again.”
“I don’t think it’s in the cards for me anymore. I had my chance at it. That’s gone now. I have a life that’s fulfilling. You’re in it. My parents. Simone and Linc. Ash.”
“What about Ramon?”
I stiffened. “What about him?”
“I suspect he hurts nearly as much as you do. He and my son were best friends for many years. Everyone you mentioned has someone to lean on. Linc has Ash. You
have Simone. Who does Ramon have?”
“He has his dad. His brother. His niece.”
“Yes. But not a friend. Someone who sees the real person behind all of the fame. Someone who shares a history. I’m glad he’s returned to OB. Glad you two are spending time together again. I think you could be good for each other.”
“Who told you we were spending time together?”
“I used to work at the Deck Bar, remember? A buddy of mine still does. He and I have coffee before church on Sundays. He told me he saw you two eating dinner together last night.”
“Yes, we did. We haven’t seen each other in years. It was nice to catch up.” Nice but hurtful at the same time. To be near someone who meant so much, but to always know you could never be as close as you wanted to be. “But I’m not sure when I’ll see him again.” I regretted leaving that open invitation for him to join me at the cliffs. That was my time. Surfing was my only therapy. He wasn’t the key to me moving forward, any more than I was the linchpin to his happiness. We were more like anchors that dragged each other into the past. He had his life. His women. He didn’t need me getting in the way. I was just a reminder of the best friend he had lost, and an obligation he had earned the right to be unshackled from.
Chapter Nine
* * *
Ramon
Hands in my pockets, I stood staring through the glass panes at the blue slate of the Pacific while thinking of her. The view from the living room windows had sold me on this house in the cliffs. So had the fact that I knew Karen would love it.
(Complete Rock Stars, Surf and Second Chances #1-5) Page 33