by Sarah Morgan
Revived after lunch, Kathleen joined them to explore the town of Winslow.
Martha waved her phone in front of Kathleen’s face, bubbling with excitement. “Look at this! You’re trending!”
“Trending?” Kathleen, struggling with the heat, removed an old-fashioned fan from her bag and opened it.
“On social media! Our last post was seen by a TV presenter—must have been the hashtag—and she shared it, and reached out to see if she could cover the story and interview you and now it’s all blowing up—” Martha checked her phone again, “well, FOX! You’re famous, Kathleen. You’re going to need an agent.”
“I hereby appoint you to the role.” Kathleen fanned herself as Martha scrolled through her messages.
“You can’t possibly give interviews to all these people or you’ll never get to enjoy your road trip. Why don’t we offer an exclusive to one, for now—to the channel you worked for? And then you can see how you feel about doing more once you get home. I can handle that for you. Hey, maybe they’ll offer you a book deal.”
“I’d rather do something than write about it.”
“I’ll ghost write it for you.” Martha was still scrolling, and Josh shook his head, amused.
“Have you thought about applying for a job in public relations, or media relations?”
“Nah, I already have a job, thanks. I’m Kathleen’s personal assistant. I am going to handle her media inquiries.” Martha typed a reply to someone, her fingers flying so fast that it seemed like magic to Kathleen. “I am her first line of defense.”
“Defense against what?”
“Anyone who tries to give her tea that isn’t Earl Grey. Also the paparazzi.” Martha sent one message, and then another. “We can’t have them knowing about Kathleen’s giddy lifestyle.”
“Talking of giddy lifestyles, this heat does make me feel a little strange.” Kathleen slipped her arm into Martha’s and she immediately put her phone away.
“Is it too hot for you? Do you want to go back to the hotel?”
“No. Let’s walk for a little.”
Whatever would she have done on this trip without Martha?
Josh strolled ahead, but Martha stayed with Kathleen.
“You asked Liza to read the letters, didn’t you?” She kept her voice low. “You don’t have to tell me about it. But if you need a big hug or anything, I’m here.”
A big hug.
Martha was still willing to give emotionally, despite what had happened. It gave Kathleen hope for her.
“It was the right thing to do. Thank you for encouraging me.”
Adam hadn’t left Ruth.
She knew for sure now that she’d done the right thing.
Ruth had enjoyed a happy life. Adam had stayed with her, although something in the phrases Ruth used so carefully had made Kathleen wonder if there had been an affair in there at some point. It wouldn’t have surprised her, just as the fact that Adam had enjoyed a distinguished career didn’t surprise her.
Kathleen pictured him, sure and confident standing at a lectern. A little thicker around the middle, perhaps, hair with a few silvery streaks. But he would have had presence. Adam always had presence.
Martha reached across and gave her hand a squeeze. “Did it upset you, Kathleen?”
Upset? No.
“It unsettled me, but it was the right thing to do.”
“And are you going to get in touch with Ruth?”
“That, I haven’t decided.” And it had been weighing on her since Liza had read the last letter.
Martha nodded. “I suppose that depends on whether you want this to be the end, or a beginning. It could be either.”
Kathleen stopped walking. The heat pressed down on her.
An end or a beginning. Martha was right.
Which was it to be? Should she view the letters as closure, or should she make contact with Ruth?
She hadn’t replied to a single one of Ruth’s letters. Her old friend knew nothing about her life, or even that she was still alive.
She thought about it for the whole afternoon, and while she was dressing for dinner. Her room was delightful, with antique furnishings, a hand-woven Zapotec rug and a cast-iron tub.
Ready early, she sat on the chair next to the bed and called Liza, who answered almost immediately even though it was past midnight.
“Did I wake you?”
“No. I was finishing off a painting in the summerhouse so Sean and I ate late. We only just finished clearing up. We stole a bottle of wine from your cellar.”
Kathleen smiled. “Steal away. You know how much I approve of indulgence.”
“I’ve been thinking about you all day. Are you all right, Mum?”
“Yes, although I’ve been thinking about those letters of course.”
“I’ve been thinking about them too.” There was a clatter in the background. “She had a happy life. You were partly responsible for that.”
“I don’t see it that way, but I’m pleased she was happy.”
“How is Arizona?”
“Hot.” Kathleen gazed out the window. “Tomorrow is the Grand Canyon, and I’m hopeful that Martha and Josh might get together.”
“Are you still matchmaking?”
“Shamelessly.”
Liza laughed. “Keep me posted on that. Sounds as if Martha could do with some fun in her life. And how about you? Have you decided whether you’re going to contact Ruth?”
“I’m still thinking about it.”
“Well, if you want to talk about it, or think it through aloud, you know I’m here.”
“Thank you.” That wave of homesickness was back, unbalancing her. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“You would have managed fine, the way you always have.”
“No.” She heard the clink of a glass and thought about Liza sitting in the kitchen of Oakwood Cottage, sipping chilled white wine from one of the pretty glasses she’d picked up on a trip to Venice. “I miss you, Liza. I wish you were here.”
“I miss you too—” Liza’s voice sounded strange. She cleared her throat. “You’re much better off with Martha. You know I’d be nagging you about your alcohol intake, too many burgers and late nights.”
“I’m lucky to have a daughter who cares so much.”
There was a pause. “Are you sure you’re all right? You don’t sound like yourself.”
Was she all right? Kathleen wasn’t sure.
“I’m fine, but—I love you, Liza. I love you very much. I don’t tell you that enough.” And now she’d finally said it, she wondered why it had taken her so long. It wasn’t as if her feelings had changed or deepened. The only thing that had changed was her ability to share those feelings.
It took Liza so long to respond Kathleen wondered if she’d hung up.
“Liza?”
“Yes, I’m here. I love you too. You know that.” There was another pause. “Are you sure you’re all right? If you’d like me to come, I can fly out tomorrow. I’ll get on the first flight.”
Kathleen felt emotion squeeze her chest. Oh how she wished her daughter was here, but she couldn’t ask that of her. “You have France soon. There must be so much to do.”
“Would you like me to come?”
Yes, yes. Please come. She thought how reassuring it would be to have Liza by her side if she decided to see Ruth again after all these years. But Liza had France and her family to think of. Sean. It would be selfish to ask her to come, and Kathleen had put her own needs first more than enough in life. “No.” She said it firmly. “There’s no need, but thank you. I should go. We have a table booked and it’s a popular restaurant.”
“Enjoy your evening. Love you, Mum.”
“I love you too.” Feeling better for the conversation, Kathleen headed to the re
staurant. It was crowded with people, the air fragrant with chili, garlic and roasted meat.
She ate red corn posole and it reminded her of the time she’d traveled to Mexico to film The Summer Seekers. When would that have been? 1975? No, later.
Martha and Josh were deep in conversation about their Grand Canyon trip, which left Kathleen time to enjoy the food and the view of the pretty garden.
Ruth had mentioned her garden in California, and her terrace with the view of the Pacific Ocean.
I love to cook, and I still drink Earl Grey tea, as we did all those years ago.
I often think about you and wonder where you are.
I wonder whether you ever think of me, the way I so often think of you. Writing these letters has been my way of staying close to you. When I write them, I feel as if you’re listening.
Kathleen put her fork down. “I want to see her.”
Martha and Josh stopped talking.
“Ruth?”
“Yes, Ruth.” Her heart beat a little faster and she took a sip of water. “I’m here now. I may never make it as far as California again.”
Martha smiled at her. “I think she’ll be beyond thrilled to hear from you.”
“There you go again. Hyperbole.”
“Well, let’s assess her reaction before you correct my grammar.” Martha reached across the table. “Trust me, she’ll be thrilled.”
“Or she might think it strange that I’d make contact after all this time.” Kathleen felt a little shaky. “Maybe she won’t remember me.”
“Kathleen—” Martha was gentle “—she never stopped writing to you. If she didn’t want to hear from you, she would have stopped writing. If you asked me to guess, I’d say she’s been hoping to hear from you for a long time.”
“She might be dead.”
“Or she might be alive and thinking of her old friend.” Martha put down her napkin and stood up. “We’re finished here, so why don’t we go back to the room and do it right now?”
Josh grabbed his beer and Kathleen’s drink. “Good plan.”
And that was how Kathleen found herself sitting on the edge of her bed, between these two people who she’d grown so fond of. Martha on one side, Josh on the other, supporting her like bookends.
“This might be foolish. You can never go back.”
“This isn’t going back, Kathleen. It’s going forward.” Martha opened the message Liza had sent her, with Ruth’s address and phone number.
“That’s easy for you to say. I might regret it.”
This time it was Josh who spoke. “I think in life we tend to regret the things we don’t do more than the things we do, at least that’s how it has always been for me.”
Kathleen knew he was thinking of his brother. She gave his hand a squeeze but didn’t say anything. Her command of the English language and her diction might be superior to Martha’s, but her ability to say the right thing in emotional situations was vastly inferior. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Josh with her clumsy attempts at platitudes.
“And it’s because I don’t want you to feel regrets that we’re rafting on the Colorado River.” Martha earned herself a look from Josh before he turned back to Kathleen.
“If you call, I’ll treat us to the best bottle of wine you’ve tasted.”
“French?”
Josh winced. “Californian.”
Kathleen gave an exaggerated shudder. “What a life you must have led. But you’re right, of course. Let’s do this.” She sat up a little straighter. “Martha. Make that call.”
She held tightly to Josh’s hand as Martha dialed, and held her breath as Martha spoke to someone on the other end of the phone.
There was a long pause during which Kathleen’s chest ached and she concluded that her ability to handle intense emotion hadn’t improved with age.
Finally, Martha handed her the phone. Her eyes glistened.
“It’s Ruth. She can’t wait to talk to you.”
Kathleen took the phone, wishing she’d asked Josh and Martha to leave her alone to talk to her old friend, but they must have known instinctively that was what she wanted because Josh stood up and gave her shoulder a squeeze and Martha gave her a kiss on the cheek and whispered that they’d be “right outside.”
As the door clicked quietly shut behind them, Kathleen was left alone.
Her hand was shaking so much she could hardly hold the phone to her ear.
“Hello? Is that you, Ruth?”
21
MARTHA
GRAND CANYON
“I don’t like leaving her.” Martha and Josh had driven the two and a half hours to Peach Springs, leaving Kathleen asleep in the gorgeous rustic lodge with its views across the Grand Canyon.
She’d assured Martha that she could happily spend a month admiring the view from her suite, and that spending a day alone would be a pleasure not a hardship, but still Martha felt unsettled.
How was it possible that she’d grown fond of Kathleen so quickly? It was partly the circumstances—being closeted together in a car—partly because she reminded Martha a little of her grandmother, but mostly because Kathleen had given her back her confidence.
She no longer doubted her ability behind the wheel of the car. Instead, she looked forward to the driving. She’d stopped punishing herself for past decisions. Thanks to Kathleen, she’d stopped thinking of them as bad decisions. They were her decisions, and if her family didn’t approve that was their problem.
But this morning she’d felt torn between her fondness for Kathleen, and her desire to do something to help Josh.
“I know she’s worried about meeting Ruth. I had a feeling she would have liked Liza to be there.” They’d put the top down and Josh tugged his hat down to shade his eyes from the hot Arizona sun.
“Ask her to fly out?”
“Not an option. She has family of her own. They’re going to France.”
“Then we’ll go with Kathleen to Ruth’s. If she looks as if she wishes she’d made a different decision, we’ll drag her out of there and take her for a walk on the beach instead. Or we can take her home.”
“Home?”
“My place. I live up the coast from Santa Monica. I have a great view of the ocean from my deck.”
She had an unsettling vision of him sprawled on the deck wearing nothing but board shorts. Her imagination had always been her downfall and now it was presenting her with vivid images of Josh naked. She tried to switch it off and replace it with less provocative images of Josh hunched over a computer screen, looking serious. But that didn’t work because he didn’t hunch and although he often looked serious, when he smiled it was as if someone had switched on all the lights full beam.
“You live near the sea?” Her voice sounded strange and she cleared her throat. “I thought you hated water?” She wasn’t going to think about him emerging from the ocean, with droplets of water clinging to those broad shoulders.
“I like looking at it. Not experiencing it.”
“So if I was drowning, you wouldn’t save me?”
“I’d save you by alerting the lifeguard.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“You’re alive at the end of it, so it counts. The secret of success is the ability to delegate a task to the most qualified person. If I tried to save you, we’d both drown. Talking of which, you might be right about today. We shouldn’t have left her,” Josh said. “Let’s go back. Who wants to go rafting on the Colorado River, anyway?”
Why did he have to make her laugh? She was doomed. “We do.”
“You do. It always seemed like a bad idea to me. Still does. Particularly now I know I’m expected to save you. Turn the car around.”
Was he serious?
The sudden stab of sympathy pierced those unsettling images. “Is this very hard fo
r you? Doing this without your brother?”
“Being without him is hard—it doesn’t matter much what I’m doing.”
She wanted to stop the car and give him a big hug, but instead she kept the conversation light. “In that case, we might as well go rafting. You can’t back out now. Not when I’ve spent my life savings on this experience for you. You’re welcome, Martha.”
“You’re persistent, Martha. You’re a pain in the neck, Martha.”
She patted his thigh and then wished she hadn’t because the moment her fingers made contact with hard muscle those images came rushing back, along with a scorching rush of attraction. You’re a fool, Martha! “No need to be scared. And no need to worry about saving me. I’ll save you.” Although she had a feeling she was the one who might need saving, and not from the water. But she didn’t regret doing this, no matter the cost to her. She hated the thought of him taking this long trip alone, hitching a ride from place to place, making small talk with whoever picked him up, thinking about his brother the whole time. He would have carried that sadness with no one to help bear the load.
Although it had to be said that right now he didn’t seem particularly pleased that she was by his side. She could feel him glowering at her from under the brim of his baseball cap.
“You’re trained in white water rescue?”
“Not specifically, but the people I’m paying to escort us are, and I’m generally resourceful. If you promise to stop complaining, I’ll promise to rescue you if you fall headfirst into the water. You’re going to love this. And I honestly think it will be good for you.” And unless the searing burn of sexual attraction didn’t fade soon, she’d be glad of the excuse.
“Oatmeal is good for me. Doesn’t mean I love it.”
“Would you have been like this if Red had been sitting in this car with you?”
Josh gave a reluctant laugh. “I would have been worse. Red never would have let me get away with a day trip. He would have booked a week on the toughest part of the river. Probably unguided.”
“Terror can bond people, I hear.”
“Is that why you’re doing this? So I’ll cling to you?”
“I don’t need an excuse for that. When I’m ready to grab you, I’ll grab you.” And at this rate, it was going to be sooner rather than later.