The Summer Seekers

by Sarah Morgan

  Kathleen saw Martha smile at him.

  After the drama of the night before, they’d developed an easy camaraderie. It seemed that her funny turn had forced them together in a way she’d failed to manage with her heavy-handed attempts at matchmaking.

  Oh how well she remembered those days of flirtatious looks, the air heavy with sexual tension and anticipation.

  It cheered her to think that although her own life might be a tangled mess, at least Martha’s was looking hopeful.

  She focused on that, in the hope of calming the emotional turmoil churning inside her.

  “How are you feeling, Kathleen?” Martha glanced in the mirror, asking the same question she’d asked at least ten times since leaving the motel.

  “I’m alive,” Kathleen said. “I took my pulse to confirm it. You may continue, reassured.”

  Martha grinned. “You sound like you again. Don’t you think so, Josh?”

  “Yes.” He turned. “If you need to stop—”

  “You’ll be the first to know.”

  Dear boy. Although “boy” was hardly the right description. Josh was a man, and a fine specimen at that.

  Like Martha, she was relieved he’d opted to travel with them a little longer, and not only because she hoped it might culminate in a little romance for Martha. Josh had proved himself to be steady and capable.

  In some ways he reminded her a little of Brian, although Josh appeared to have a drive and ambition that her husband had lacked.

  It hadn’t bothered her. She’d had drive and ambition enough for both of them.

  After Adam, she’d never let herself become too close to anyone, and her job had facilitated that approach. Maybe that was part of the reason she’d chosen that line of work. Even before The Summer Seekers, she’d traveled around the country as part of her work.

  And here she was, doing it again. Dwelling on the past.

  Maybe it was a feature of age, that the past seemed more relevant than the future.

  They stopped for lunch at a roadside diner, and Kathleen found she wasn’t hungry.

  And of course Martha noticed.

  “You’re not eating. You need to eat.”

  “I ate a large breakfast.”

  “You eat a large breakfast every day and it has never interfered with your lunch before. Can we order you something else?” Martha was obviously poised to fuss over her and Kathleen gave her what she hoped was a quelling look.

  “If I feel the need for something else, I can order it myself.”

  “I know.” Martha, never easily quelled, beamed at her. “But I thought I’d save you the bother.”

  To avoid an argument, Kathleen nibbled a few pieces of salad.

  Josh excused himself to go to the restroom and Martha leaned forward.

  “I’ve been thinking—”

  “Should that admission make me nervous?”

  “You could ask Liza to open the letters. That way you’d know what was in them.”

  It was unsettling to know that Martha’s mind had been moving in the same direction as her own. “And she would also then know what was in them.”

  “What’s wrong with that? Why not let her share it with you? You’ve said you’re not close. Sounds as if you’d like to be. She might like the fact you’re involving her. It might bring you closer.”

  Or it might have the opposite effect.

  “If I’d wanted to open the letters, I would have opened them.”

  “You didn’t want to open them before—I get that. You must have been so mad with Ruth. Trying to move on. But things change, don’t they? I mean, if you asked me now if I wanted to marry Steven I’d say definitely no way, but there was a point where I wanted to, obviously, or I wouldn’t have done it. People are allowed to change their minds.”

  That wasn’t it. That wasn’t it, at all.

  Kathleen felt something flutter inside her.

  Martha had no idea.

  She didn’t understand that the reason she hadn’t opened those letters wasn’t out of some childish wish for revenge, or even a wish to keep the past in the past. It was because she’d been afraid of what they’d say.

  She was still afraid.

  Martha thought she should read the letters, but Martha knew only a tiny sliver of the story. That was all Kathleen had shared.

  “I appreciate your concern.”

  “But you want me to stop talking now.” Martha gave a good-natured smile. “I don’t want you worrying, that’s all. And I know you are worrying, even though you won’t admit it.”

  “I don’t know why you would think that.”

  “You’re quiet. And you’ve stopped actively trying to fix me up with Josh.”

  “I consider my work in that area to be complete. If you can’t see what a perfect rebound experience he would provide, then I’m at a loss to know what more I can do to convince you.”

  “I’m not going to have a rebound experience, Kathleen.” Martha finished her fries. “But I admit it’s good having him with us.”

  Yesterday Martha had given Josh the silent treatment. Today she’d been chatting away, very much back to her usual self.

  Sometimes it took a while to get used to an idea, Kathleen thought. You had to plant a seed, water it and let it grow.

  Josh returned to the table and he and Martha promptly started arguing about dessert.

  Adorable, Kathleen thought.

  She tried to push thoughts of Ruth to the back of her mind, but her old friend hovered like a dark cloud on an otherwise bright day, her presence threatening change.

  She could ignore those letters, Kathleen reminded herself. She didn’t have to read them.

  But then Liza might read them.

  Oh if only she knew what they said, she would know whether she needed to read them or not.

  The ridiculousness of that thought made her laugh.

  “What’s funny?” Martha glanced up from the menu with a smile.

  “Nothing.”

  Martha ordered ice cream, and Josh did the same. “What was Brian’s favorite food, Kathleen?” Martha handed the menu back. “Are you a good cook?”

  “I’m an appalling cook. Brian wasn’t overflowing with talent in that area either. Liza was always the one who showed a skill in the kitchen. She still does. She treats food like art. Everything she puts on the plate looks pretty.” Had she ever praised her daughter for her cooking skills? That day she’d sped down to the West Country after Kathleen’s accident bearing a casserole, had Kathleen even thanked her? She had an uncomfortable feeling that she might have said something impatient.

  Liza had probably thought her rude and ungrateful. It was only now with some distance that she could understand the reason for her less than admirable behavior. She’d been terrified. Terrified that they might persuade her to sell her home and move into residential accommodation. Terrified that it might, in fact, be the best decision for her.

  The house had been the best gift Brian had ever given her, apart from love.

  When she’d finally accepted his proposal, he’d taken her on a car ride to Oakwood and pulled into the curving drive.

  I’ve found a house with nothing between you and the sea.

  The fact that he’d understood her deep need for independence and freedom had cemented her decision to marry him.

  She hated the idea of staying in one place, but then she’d fallen in love with her cottage by the ocean. It made her feel that she was on the edge of a journey. That she could sail away at a moment’s notice.

  Why had she not said that? Why had she not said, Liza, I’m afraid.

  Because she handled life by not letting it get too close.

  In their last phone conversation Liza had said I love you, and what had she said in return? Not I love you too, even though she did love he
r daughter very much. She’d said I know you do.

  It was evidence of Liza’s great love for her that she hadn’t given up on her mother.

  Kathleen’s heart ached.

  She should do better. She would do better.

  She watched as Martha dipped her spoon into Josh’s chocolate ice cream and he tried her strawberry.

  Sharing. Sharing was an essential part of fostering a good relationship. It wasn’t enough to tell Liza she loved her, she had to show her. Actions meant so much more than mere words, although of course words mattered too.

  She needed to show Liza that she trusted her and valued her opinion.

  And there was a good way to do that.

  She needed to ask her daughter to read Ruth’s letters.

  She needed to be honest about the past.

  17

  MARTHA

  AMARILLO~SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO

  Martha glanced in the mirror. They’d spent the morning touring Amarillo’s historic district, and now Kathleen was sleeping in the back of the car as they headed across the top of Texas toward New Mexico.

  Since her dizzy spell, Kathleen had been more subdued. The day before they’d driven from Oklahoma City to Amarillo and Kathleen had dozed for much of the journey. Martha had asked if she was feeling quite well, and been told that she was, but she’d insisted on an early night, leaving Martha and Josh to spend another evening together.

  Josh had suggested a steakhouse, but Martha hadn’t wanted to be too far from Kathleen, so they’d ordered in pizza again, played cards and watched a movie.

  “Do you think she’s matchmaking?” Josh had asked at one point but Martha had shaken her head.

  “I wish she was. She’s very unlike herself. Anyway, I could never be with someone who didn’t eat the crust from the pizza.” She eyed the crusts on his plate and he shrugged.

  “I hate crusts. Give me gooey cheese any day. This is a tiring trip for her. Could be that.”

  “Maybe.” But Martha didn’t think so.

  She felt uneasy. She had a strong feeling that the reason Kathleen felt out of sorts wasn’t physical, but emotional, and it didn’t feel right to share that with Josh.

  Was she thinking about Ruth? About the letters? They’d talked about it enough for Martha to know what a big deal it was.

  She glanced in her mirror again and saw Kathleen’s head resting against the back of the seat. Sleeping?

  Martha turned her attention back to the road.

  To stop herself worrying about Kathleen, she focused on Josh. “What are you going to do at the end of this trip? Are you worried that you don’t have a job to go back to?”

  “No.”

  “I admire you. Must feel good to be able to walk out and slam the door in your boss’s face, metaphorically speaking. Not many people would do that. I’m guessing he won’t give you a reference—” She glanced at him, saw something in his face and suddenly she knew. “Oh—”

  “Oh what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “It’s you, isn’t it? This awful boss of yours—”

  “I never said he was awful.”

  “Scary and focused then. It’s you! You were the boss.” She felt foolish and embarrassed. “I see it clearly now. The way you paused a little too long when Kathleen was telling you what she thought of your ‘boss’, as if you weren’t sure whether to defend him or not. Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Because this is a vacation.” He sounded tired. “I needed a break from it all. Work. Being the boss. All of it. I didn’t want to talk about it.”

  This car was crowded with things no one wanted to talk about, Martha thought. And what good did that do? Kathleen had obviously been carrying the weight of her past around with her for decades. As far as she could see, nothing got fixed by burying it.

  “So basically although you’re hitchhiking, you’re a gazillionaire.”

  “I never said that.”

  “But you’re super successful, and not exactly having to wonder where your next meal is coming from.” And she almost wished she hadn’t figured it out because now she felt intimidated.

  No way would she have a fling with someone like him.

  They were totally wrong for each other, and not only because he didn’t eat the crust from his pizza. He was a career person. Driven. Probably ruthless. The type of man who chose work over a good time. The type of man her mother would kill to see one of her daughters with.

  That itself was enough to put Martha off. He probably had a million qualifications. He’d judge her, the way her family judged her. He’d tell her to get a proper job and take life seriously. With him, she’d never feel good enough.

  “Life isn’t all about money.” Josh sounded relaxed and she rolled her eyes because of course he was relaxed. He wasn’t the one who had made a fool of himself.

  “That’s easy to say when you have plenty. Believe me, when you don’t, it becomes something of a focus. Not that I’m greedy. I don’t need diamonds or anything—not that I’d say no to diamonds—but money, even a small amount, does give you choices. If I had money, I wouldn’t have to live with my family, and that would be good for everyone’s mental health. You’re able to take a break because you don’t have to worry about where your next meal is coming from.”

  Underneath her humiliation was a layer of envy.

  Josh gave her a long look. “I hope my next meal is coming from that diner up ahead, because it’s recommended in the guidebook.”

  Martha barely managed to raise a smile. “You can joke, but this changes everything.”

  “What does it change?” He was calm. “You want me to pay for the burgers? I was going to do that anyway. My contribution.”

  “This problem goes a lot deeper than who pays for the burgers. I was comfortable with you, but now I’m not.”

  “Why? What does my job have to do with anything?”

  It was probably a lot easier to be casual about success when you’d experienced it. “Tell me about your company.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to know.”

  He sighed. “I design and sell DBMS.”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “Database management software.”

  “Still no idea what that is. Time to stop the conversation. It’s not making me feel good about myself. I don’t even understand what it is you do, let alone how you do it.”

  “Basically I design software that make databases run smoothly.”

  “So you don’t make something I’m likely to have used, or any individual.”

  “Not directly. Our products are used by big companies.”

  “And you set up the company.”

  “Yes.”

  Martha felt herself shrink. “From nothing.”

  “Yes.”

  “And now it’s worth—a lot.”

  “I guess. The diner we talked about is up here on the right so you need to turn.”

  Martha turned, and parked outside the diner. “I’m not sure I can drive knowing I have a tech tycoon in the seat next to me.” She was hit by a wave of depression. She’d been enjoying the trip so much, but it was all an illusion. Or maybe delusion would be a better word. This wasn’t a new life. It was a pause in her old life. Yes, she was having fun but it wasn’t real. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life driving old ladies across America. What lay ahead wasn’t a sun-soaked adventure in California, but a return home to the less than welcoming arms of her family. It was all very well realizing that she needed to distance herself from people who made her feel bad about herself, but how?

  “What does my job have to do with anything?”

  “Let’s put it like this—if my body was my ego, right now I’d be skinny.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
>
  Wasn’t it obvious? “Being with you makes me feel small. You’re intimidating.”

  “Intimidating?” He looked astonished. “How?”

  The fact that he could laugh made it worse.

  “You may find this funny, but I don’t.” When she’d been with her grandmother she’d never seen the importance of striving for a career, but even she had to admit that what she’d achieved so far in her life couldn’t be described as impressive. “Maybe you should be a little more sensitive.”

  “Maybe you should have a little more self-confidence. You’re too easily intimidated, Martha.”

  “That’s easy to say when you’re a massive success.”

  “There are many definitions of success, Martha, and they don’t all involve money. You’re making assumptions about me based on your own prejudices. I’ll go get us a table.” He left the car and slammed the door behind him.

  Martha flinched. Prejudices? He was accusing her of having prejudices? His success was a fact, not opinion.

  What did he have to be angry about?

  She watched as he strode across the parking lot and saw him pause outside the diner. He ran his hand over the back of his neck and she saw his shoulders move as he breathed deeply and composed himself.

  Behind her, Kathleen stirred. “What’s the matter with Josh?”

  “When he talked about a boss who wouldn’t let him take a vacation, he was talking about himself. He’s the boss.”

  “I know.”

  “You know?” Martha turned to look at her. “And you didn’t think it was a fact worth sharing?”

  “I knew you’d be intimidated, and I didn’t want that to happen. I wanted you to get to know each other a little first. Did you fight about something?”

  “Sort of.” Why did she feel guilty? Because she’d upset him in some way, and he’d been nothing but kind. It was a strange situation because being closeted together in the car created a false intimacy. They were close, and yet not close. The fact that she’d upset him and had no idea why was a sharp reminder that they didn’t know each other at all.

  It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.