by Greta Boris
Mike. She set down the lotion with a thud. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner? Mike would know what to do about Proctor. He’d retired from the Orange County Sheriff’s Department three years ago. He had knowledge and connections. More important, he was a free agent now and could be discreet. Last year when Art and Gwen had run into problems, he’d helped them out. She was sure he’d help her mother. She’d talk to him when she picked Brian up that evening.
Olivia walked into her bedroom and pulled a fresh pair of leggings and a new yoga top from her dresser. The only hitch was she didn’t want Davy to know about the newspaper clippings, or what had happened at the Mission. He and his dad were close now that Davy had turned over his new leaf. She stuck one leg into her exercise pants and stared at the wall.
But why would she have to mention any of that? She wasn’t absolutely sure Proctor was behind the threats, or the warnings, whatever they were. Blackmail was sufficient reason to seek help. She continued dressing. No sense in muddying the waters with things she wasn’t one-hundred-percent positive were related.
She slid her feet into a pair of slip-on sneakers, fluffed her damp hair with her fingers, and ran out the door. And if they were related, both problems would be resolved with a single solution—getting rid of Proctor. Maybe it was the sleep, maybe the latte, but she felt more optimistic than she had in weeks.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE WEEKEND HAD been quiet. Too quiet. Davy picked Brian up at eight o’clock Saturday morning and didn’t bring him home until eight o’clock Sunday night. She’d cleaned. Olivia was on the messy end of the neat-messy spectrum and had never understood people who felt a need to sterilize things when they were anxious. But Tom’s words about order and peace going hand in hand had rung in her head while she mopped, and dusted, and rifled through closets.
Olivia put a stack of library books she’d found under a pile of Brian’s dirty clothes into a tote bag. Several were overdue. Davy had signed Crackers up for search and rescue classes, and Brian was obsessed. He’d read every book on the topic that his new best friend, Miss Travers, had found in the school library, then moved on to the Dana Point library. Olivia would return them on her way to the studio. She was closing that evening.
She glanced around her living room making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. It looked a bit naked without the usual clutter, but she liked how organized she felt. Her laptop, planner, and the files she’d been working on were in the tote by the door with the books. The only thing she was missing was the Ball jar. She’d left it in the kitchen.
The doctor wasn’t enthusiastic about the herbal concoction Sage had given her, but he didn’t think it would hurt Brian either. After doing her own research, Olivia decided to try it. Since he’d started taking it, Brian had been right where he was supposed to be every time she picked him up from school or soccer. He’d gotten all his homework done without being nagged, and he hadn’t confabulated.
Whether it was the tincture, Davy’s presence in his life, the dog, the natural process of healing, or all of the above, she didn’t know. But she wasn’t going to argue with success. Brian was up to the twelve drops a day recommended for his age, and the Ball jar was empty. She was taking it to Sage’s after work for a refill.
She picked it up off the dish drainer, swiped it with a towel, and reentered the living room in time to see Tom’s dark green Honda pull up to the curb through the front window. He’d offered to take Brian to the soccer team’s away game in Santa Ana. She’d said yes. It was Tuesday, so it was Davy’s night with Brian, but he’d called yesterday to tell her he had a work conflict.
It was the first time he’d given up an evening with his son since he’d started the new schedule. She wasn’t worried, not yet. But it had created a conflict, until Tom came to the rescue.
“Coach Hartman is here,” she called out. A moment later, Brian appeared with his gym bag slung over his shoulder.
“Got your cleats?” she said.
“Yup.” He opened his bag and showed her the shoes.
“Clean socks?”
He pulled out a pair and waved them at her.
Olivia opened the front door and followed him to the street. He jogged around to the passenger side of Tom’s car. She leaned into the driver side window.
“Hi.” Tom’s right cheek sprang a dimple.
She reached into her pocket and handed him a folded twenty. “For dinner and gas.”
Tom waved the money away. “I got it.”
“No. Really. It’s so nice of you to—”
Tom’s smile faded. “Come on, Olivia.”
“I’m just saying...”
“I thought we were past that.”
“I don’t want to assume.” She stammered over her words.
“I wish you would.”
“Don’t be upset with me.” She stuffed the money into her jeans. He sighed and looked at her. “I’m sorry.” She bent over and kissed him on the cheek.
A car pulled up behind Tom’s. Davy ejected from it. Olivia straightened and felt her face flush.
“What’s going on?” Davy said.
“Hi, Dad.” Brian waved through the window.
“Hey bud, where’re you going?”
“Coach Hartman is taking me to my game. It’s in Santa Ana, and Mom has to work.”
Davy looked at Olivia through slitted eyes. “It’s my night.”
“You said you had a business meeting.”
“My meeting was canceled.”
“How was I supposed to know?”
“I don’t think we’ve met.” Tom stuck his hand out of the window. Davy ignored it. “Crackers has a training class tonight. I wanted to take Brian.”
“That sounds totally sick. Can I go, Mom? Please?” Brian leaned across Tom to peer at her through the driver side window, his face pleading.
“No, honey. You have a commitment to the team. You need to go to the game.”
“It’s my night.” Davy’s voice was tight.
Olivia met his glare for several long seconds. “You guys better get on the road before the traffic hits.” She patted Tom’s arm.
“Bye, buddy.” Davy waved to Brian as the car pulled away, then turned to Olivia. “Really, Olivia?”
“Really?”
“Why wouldn’t you ask me to take Brian to his game before sending him off with some strange guy?”
“You said you couldn’t make it tonight. And Tom isn’t some strange guy. He’s Brian’s coach.”
“I know. I know all about him. Brian told me you were dating one of his coaches, and he doesn’t like him.”
“We’re not really dating. How do you know he doesn’t like him?”
“He told me. How do you think? We talk. I’m his dad. Dads and sons talk.”
“Of course he’s going to tell you he doesn’t like Tom. Brian wants us to get back together. Nobody else stands a chance.”
“Maybe it’s because the guy is a jerk to our kid. Did you ever think of that? Wait, forget I asked.” Davy turned from her and strode down the sidewalk like he needed to put distance between them. He spun around. “You didn’t think of it, because you’re not thinking right now are you?”
Anger ignited, hot as a torch, inside her chest. She opened her mouth to blast him, but he beat her to it. “If you were thinking, you wouldn’t be making out with the man in front of our kid. What if Brian gets attached, and it doesn’t work out? It could traumatize him.”
His words were like lighter fuel. “Wait, let me get this straight.” Sarcasm streamed from her lips. “You’re worried about our child being traumatized? The man who stopped coming home, who abandoned us, is worried about traumatizing his kid?”
Davy’s face turned scarlet. He raked a hand through his hair. “I blew it, okay. I know that. I’ve admitted it. I’m trying to do better. But this guy... this guy isn’t our kid’s father. He doesn’t love Brian. In fact, it sounds like he doesn’t even like him.”
“I don’t have time
for this right now. I have to get to work.” Olivia stomped up the path to her front door.
“What do you know about this man? I mean, really know?” Davy followed her. “Where does he come from? What did he do before he moved here? What kind of person is he?”
She answered over her shoulder. “He grew up here, in San Juan Capistrano. I know his mother. She’s a lovely woman. He teaches high school math at St. Barnabas. Anything else?”
“Yeah. Lots. Where did he work before St. Barnabas? Brian says he’s new this school year. How come he’s never been married? Or, has he been? For all you know, he could have a wife and kid in another state.”
Olivia crossed the threshold of her apartment and turned to face him, one hand on the doorknob. “You’re reaching, Davy. Tom’s a nice guy. He’s stable and responsible. He has a good job. He’s good with kids, and he likes us—Brian and me. He might be around for a while, so you better get used to it.”
She closed the door in his face. Her words surprised her. She hadn’t realized until that moment that she did want Tom to be around.
She slid behind a window drape where Davy couldn’t see her and watched him. She didn’t want to leave until he drove away. This was the first fight they’d had since he’d gotten Crackers, and it left her shaken. She’d promised herself she’d do her best to get along, maintain the status quo. The last thing she needed right now was a trip to family court to discuss their custodial schedule.
Davy stood with both hands on the front hood of his car, chin on his chest, for several seconds. Then he threw open the door and got in. The car lurched from the curb and sped down the block. She watched it until it entered the shadow of a big oak on the corner. Its midnight blue blinked to colorless gray in the deep shade.
Her breath caught. With the color muted, she noticed its shape for the first time. The lone car that lay in wait for her in the Fishbowl’s parking lot three weeks ago and Davy’s sedan could have rolled off the same assembly line.
***
The last class of the day was canceled, so Olivia closed up the Fishbowl at eight instead of nine and headed to Sage’s for a refill of Brian’s tincture. As she made the right at the end of Los Rios, she noticed the statue of St. Francis she’d seen on her first trip to Sage’s house. He wasn’t as welcoming tonight. A single bulb beamed up from the dirt at his base wreathing his face in eerie shadows. He made her think of a child about to tell a ghost story with a flashlight held under his chin.
Olivia parked on the gravel drive in front of Sage’s and turned off the car. The world was submerged in that deep, midnight blue of moonless nights that eats up all other colors. When she opened the car door a cloying floral scent wrapped around her, and she wondered what it was.
She walked up the path toward the stand of oaks that sheltered Sage’s home. As she entered their gloom, she heard a sound—the scratch of tin on tin. It came from the direction of the neighboring house. Olivia stepped deeper under the dark canopy where she could see without being seen. A figure clothed in a shirt so white it glowed in the light of a distant street lamp stood at a mailbox at the edge of the driveway. Nothing threatening, just a woman getting her mail.
“Abby.” A tired male voice called from behind a screen door.
“Yes.” The woman’s voice was soft and sweet.
“Check for the paper, would you? I never got it this morning.”
The woman walked, bent, retrieved a gray object from the grass, then disappeared into the house with a slap of a door.
Tension she hadn’t known she’d been carrying dropped from Olivia’s shoulders. She climbed the peeling stairs to the porch and opened the screen door. A voice came from a dark corner of the porch. “Olivia.”
Olivia started.
“Sorry.” Sage sounded amused. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ve been sitting here since the sun set. I like to watch the lights come on and listen to the crickets and the frogs wake up. Have a seat.” She gestured to a rattan chair covered in deep cushions.
“It’s peaceful out here,” Olivia said.
“Isn’t it? Better than a Pilates class, but don’t tell Fiona I said so.”
“I won’t.” Olivia sat. “What’s that scent? I smelled it as soon as I got out of the car.”
“Angel’s Trumpet,” Sage said. “I have a big bush in the yard. The blooms don’t release their perfume until after the sun sets.”
“Do you use it in creams or lotions? It’s very strong, but nice.”
“No, all parts of the plant are poisonous. I only keep it around because the scent brings back memories.”
They sat and listened to the night songs for several moments, until the sound of a train in the distance disrupted the melody. “Well, that’s that.” Sage stood. “The seven o’clock from Irvine has arrived.” The noise grew steadily louder until it sounded like the train was bearing down on the house itself, but it thundered past and screeched to a stop somewhere up the track.
“I didn’t realize how close you were to the tracks,” Olivia said.
“Living near a train station was a real bonus when the city sprang up. Kind of like living on a seaport before airplanes and tractor trailers took over the delivery business. Now it’s mostly commuters going between LA and San Diego, but it used to be the city’s connection to the world.”
Olivia followed Sage into the house. The kitchen was bathed in cheerful yellow light and a kettle simmered on the stove. “Herb tea, or black?” Sage said.
“What are you having?” Olivia sat on a metal chair covered with a red plastic cushion and pulled up to an old Formica table. The dinette set, although free of rust or wear, looked like something out of the fifties.
“Herbal, I think. I make a special blend that helps me relax. You look like you could use a cup.”
“Sounds good. I’m a bit stressed tonight.”
Sage selected one of the canisters on her counter, filled two metal teaspoon diffusers with some of its contents, and placed them into ceramic mugs. “Why are you stressed? Tell me to mind my own business, if I’m nosy.”
“No, you’re not nosy. I’m the one who mentioned it. It’s just life. Lots of little things.”
“I hope it has nothing to do with that son of mine. He can be...,” she sat across from Olivia and placed the cups in front of them, “... bossy. He means well, but he’s a teacher. I guess they get used to telling people what to do all day long and forget to stop when the work day is over.”
Olivia inhaled the fragrant steam rising from her cup and took a tentative sip. It tasted of flowers and garden loam and honey. “Tom isn’t the problem. On the contrary, he’s a big help. He took Brian to an away game this afternoon.”
“Tomas loves spending time with kids.”
What do you really know about the guy? Davy’s words echoed through her mind. This was a golden opportunity to find out more—drinking tea with his mother. She worded her next question carefully, not wanting it to seem like she was pumping Sage for information. “Did Tom always know he wanted to be a teacher? Or, did he find out by happy accident?”
“He had no idea what he wanted to do. I think the main reason he ended up in Idaho was to get out of Southern California for a while.”
“How did he figure it out then?”
“Tomas had to work his way through school. I didn’t have the funds to pay for it. His first year he tried all the typical college jobs; waiting tables, house painting, furniture moving. But they all have their drawbacks.” Sage took a sip of her tea. Olivia waited for her to continue.
“Then one day in his sophomore year, he saw an ad on the school bulletin board. A tutoring start-up was looking for math tutors. Tomas had always been good at math. He applied. They took him, and he found his calling. He declared his major the next year.”
“I’m envious of people who find their calling.” Olivia leaned her elbows on the table, cradling her warm mug with both hands. “I love my work, but I’m not sure it’s a calling.”
; “You’re fortunate to have a lucrative business you enjoy. Some of us have callings that don’t pay the bills,” Sage said.
“You mean your garden? The things you make from it?”
“Yes. I’ve done a bit of work at the local nursery, but it’s not the same. I like planting things and watching them grow. I like to walk around a garden, point to a tree, or shrub, or flower bed and tell you its history. Nurseries are exactly what the name implies; baby plants in incubators waiting for adoption.”
“I’ve never thought about it like that,” Olivia said. How did Sage survive if she didn’t work or sell her lotions and potions? She must have some source of income. Olivia couldn’t ask, but she was curious.
Sage supplied the answer. “I inherited my home, so I have no mortgage payments. Because of that, I’ve been able to make it on my husband’s life insurance and the odd job here and there.”
Olivia looked at Sage with questioning eyes.
“Tomas never told you about his father?” Sage didn’t seem surprised.
“No. Honestly, I wondered. He talks about you all the time, but he never mentioned a father.”
“Doug, my husband, was in a car accident. Drunk driver hit him. Like Brian, he had brain damage, but unlike Brian, he never recovered.”
A shadow seemed to pass over the kitchen, muting its bright colors for a moment. “I’m so sorry,” Olivia said.
“It was a long time ago. Can’t mourn forever, can we?”
“Did he die from the injuries?”
“I guess you could say that.” Sage rose from her seat and crossed the kitchen to the kettle on the stove. “More?”
“No, I’d better get going. Brian will be home soon.”
Sage opened a pantry door, walked in and came out again with a jar of amber liquid. “Your tincture.”