Disguised Blessing (14 page)

“What?”

“If you go in there looking like you’ve been crying, you’re going to have everyone asking what happened. I don’t think that’s what you want right now.”

Somehow he knew her tears weren’t because she’d hurt herself. She did as he told her and blinked, then took a deep breath. “Now?”

“Now.”

She hung back. “I can’t.”

“Remember the hat.”

“What?”

“Real courage is found in a smile.”

“Screw courage.”

“Physically impossible, but point taken.”

He was right. She had to go in the house and she didn’t want them to see that she was upset. She wiped her eyes, rubbed her cheeks hard to give them color, and took a deep breath. “All right. I’m ready.”

He followed her inside, not so close to make it obvious he was with her, but close enough for her to feel his support. Lynda went into the family room, picked up a glass, and tapped it with a coaster to gain attention.

“Hey, everybody. I want to thank you for coming—and for being such good friends.” If she could say that, she could say anything. “I hate to admit this, but when the doctor told me I’d get tired easily, I didn’t believe her. Guess what? She was right.”

She looked around the room, trying to figure out who was missing. But it didn’t matter. Not really. If some of them were talking about her, they all were.

“I’m sorry to cut out before the party’s over, but it’s that or fall asleep while someone’s talking to me. And if I did that, they just might end up talking
about
me. I certainly wouldn’t want that to happen. Who knows what they might say?”

She could sense Brian when he moved to stand next to her and knew that he was concerned by how
close he stood, but she also knew that she wouldn’t make it through the rest of what she wanted to say if she chanced a look at him.

She looked at Rick instead. He gave her the courage to smile. “Thanks again for the party, everybody. I can’t tell you how great it was to come around the corner and see all of you standing there waiting for me.”

She had to get away before she started crying again. She could feel the tears tightening her throat and burning her eyes. “I’m going upstairs now. I’ll see you all later.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang She used it as an excuse to leave before she had to acknowledge all the phony statements about how good it was to have her back.

When she opened the door her father thrust another huge bouquet of flowers in her arms and leaned forward for a kiss. “I hope I’m not too late,” he said, beaming.

She turned to Rick, a pleading look in her eyes.

“You’re just in time to cut the cake for Lynda while she goes upstairs to take a nap.”

Jack ignored Rick. “You okay, baby?”

“I’m just tired,” she told him. She gave the flowers back. “Would you please have Mom put them in water for me?”

“Sure, okay, whatever you want, baby.”

She came forward to kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks for coming.”

She started up the stairs to her bedroom. Wendy moved to follow. When Lynda saw her, she turned
and spoke just loud enough for Wendy to hear. “Go away. I don’t want to see you. Ever again.”

Wendy looked stunned, then devastated. “What did I do?”

“Find another friend. One who can stand to look at herself in the mirror in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ask Brian. With you two being such good friends he should be able to help you figure it out.” She should have felt good that she got the last word. Instead, she felt a terrible, echoing emptiness.

T
HE GRANITE WAS INCREDIBLE
.
EXACTLY WHAT HE’D
had in mind for the countertops—reddish brown background, charcoal gray, cream, mauve, and brown specks throughout. After five years of planning, of preparing to scour the country for just the right color, Rick had started and ended his search on the same day.

And, best of all, saved over twenty-five hundred dollars of the eight thousand he’d budgeted for the project.

No, the best part was the pressure he’d put himself under to get the cabinets stained and varnished and up before the counters were ready to be installed. A whole afternoon could pass without thoughts of Catherine taking over and leaving him useless and unable to concentrate on anything else.

In the week and a half since Lynda’s homecoming party, he’d put in three shifts at work, completed the base for the new sink, painted the dining room, and ordered the new flooring for the kitchen—a terrazzo
tile that perfectly matched the reddish brown in the granite.

Rick checked his earplugs and put on his protective ear coverings before starting the table saw for the final cut on the face frame for the pantry.

Although he’d stayed busy purposely to keep from thinking about Catherine, nothing could completely erase the errant connecting thoughts that would take him from the smell of sawdust to trees to ribbons tied around trees to Catherine’s eyes lighting up with welcome when she saw him at the party. Or from the stifling afternoon heat to the sweat trickling down his back to the sundress she’d worn the last time he saw her to the way the soft hair at the nape of her neck clung to her moist skin.

He’d accepted that there was nothing he could do to keep from thinking about her at night. A year was a long time to wait when he’d waited his entire life to find someone like her. At odd moments in his day he had an insane desire to talk to her about a hundred inconsequential things—her favorite season or restaurant, whether she was a morning or evening person, if she liked to read, if she had to see certain movies in a theater rather than on video, whether she was a dog person, if she would like Blue…

But Lynda came first. After her party, he’d called a couple of the female firefighters who worked with the association and asked them about the dramatic mood swings Lynda went through and what he could do to help. They’d given him a better understanding of her mental turmoil, her loss of confi
dence and frustration, but not what he could do to make it easier. She needed time to find her own way and to realize the people she cared about would be there when she reached out to them.

Rick finished the cut, turned off the saw, and looked up to see Blue standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He stayed in the house when Rick ran the saws, only making his presence known when he wanted something.

Rick lifted one of the earmuffs. “What’s up?” he asked.

Blue barked once. The telephone.

Twice would have meant someone was coming up the driveway.

He made it to the phone just as the machine was about to pick up.

“Rick, it’s Catherine. I’m sorry for chasing you down at home, but I was wondering…would you mind stopping by…if you happen to be in the area, that is.”

No one was ever “in the area” where Catherine lived. You went there purposely or not at all. “I’m covered in sawdust at the moment, but I can be there in half an hour—give or take a few minutes.”

“I wouldn’t ask, but I really could use your help. Lynda isn’t doing very well.”

“Mentally or physically?”

After a long pause, she said, “Mentally. Something happened at the party, but I can’t get her to talk about it. She’s refusing to see her friends again—even Brian. Ray is the only one she talks to and she only sees him when she goes in for physical
therapy. I was hoping you could get her to tell you what’s going on.”

“How is she doing otherwise?”

“You mean her burns?”

“Is she up to going for a ride?” He wasn’t sure how he was going to get her to talk, just that it would be easier in a neutral environment.

“She seems to handle the trip to the hospital fine. At least she never complains. Doctor Randolph told me she thinks Lynda will be ready for her pressure bandages in another week, which means she’s ahead of where they thought she’d be.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I think she can handle a ride without any problem.”

“Have any meds she needs to take in the next couple of hours ready to go when I get there. But don’t tell her I’m coming.” Since he didn’t know where they were going, he had no idea how long they would be gone. “If we do this fast, she won’t have time to come up with a reason for not coming with me.”

“I keep an extra set in my purse. I’ll give you those.”

Rick thought she was going to hang up when she said, “We’ve missed you.”

He gave too much meaning to the casual remark and only allowed the flush of pleasure to remain a moment before dismissing it. “I’ve been working on my kitchen.”

“I don’t understand. Why would you be working on your kitchen? Did something happen?”

“I bought what was laughingly called a fixer
upper eight years ago and I’ve been working my way through the place room to room since. I saved the kitchen and dining room for last.”

“You do the work yourself?”

“When I have the time.” He knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say.

“I’m sorry. See how dangerous it was to tell me you were always available? I should have asked if you were busy.”

“I would have told you I wasn’t, so it wouldn’t have made any difference.” Blue came up to be petted. When Rick ignored him, the dog leaned against his leg, and then sat on his foot.

“I’d love to see this project of yours someday. That is, if you allow tours.”

He laughed. “Whenever you have five minutes free let me know. That’s about how long it will take.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Rick would, too. More than he wanted her to know.

“Where are you taking me?” Lynda asked, just a note shy of belligerent as Rick backed out of the driveway.

“To visit a friend of mine.” He’d come up with the idea on his way there and called Sandra to see if she was willing.

“I get it—you want me to see what life is like after being burned. If you’d warned me, I could have told you not to bother. The social worker had a whole parade of burn survivors come to see me in
the hospital. I don’t know what makes everyone think being burned is like joining some big sorority. I’m me. I’m not like anyone else. You can’t—”

Rick pulled over to the side of the road and stopped.

“What’s the matter? What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for your off switch.”

“Why? Can’t take it when someone talks back? Or are you calling it quits, too?”

“Too?”

“Never mind.”

Rick shifted in the seat to look at her. “I’m not a quitter, Lynda. And you’re not close to being obnoxious enough to make me even consider it. Now why don’t you tell me who you think has quit on you?”

“Everyone.”

She was hiding behind a wall of anger. If he pushed any harder the wall would crack. “That must be a hell of a way to feel.”

That was all it took. A little sympathy, a little understanding, and she was crying. He reached in the side pocket of his door and dug around until he found a fast-food napkin. “Sorry, this is the best I can do.”

She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, looked at him, and asked, “Where are you really taking me?”

He pulled back onto the road and waved at the guard as they went through the gate. “Like I said, to see a friend.”

“I know—a burned friend,” she said flatly.

“You couldn’t be more wrong. Well, maybe if you invested in
Titanic, the Sequel.
Sandra has never
been burned and doesn’t have a clue what it’s like to be burned. But she’s one hell of a nice woman.”

“Your girlfriend?”

He laughed. “Not even close. Sandra Brahams is one of the most happily married people I’ve ever known.”

“Then I don’t understand why you want me to meet her.”

“I figured you could use some time off from hospitals and doctors and dressing changes and therapy and talk about dressing changes and therapy and doctors and hospitals.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s a teacher.”

“Oh, I get it. She handles problem kids and you think she’ll know what to do with me.”

“Have you always been this suspicious?”

She thought about the question before answering. “No—at least I don’t think so.”

“What happened? It had to be more than being burned.”

“It was lots of things.”

“Like?”

“Tom dumping my mom, for one.”

He hadn’t expected that and was at a loss how to answer.

“He did it because of me.”

“And was his dumping her—as you put it—necessarily a bad thing?” He was taking a chance. He had no idea how Lynda felt about Tom.

She shifted position, smoothing a wrinkle on the synthetic sheepskin pad he’d put across the seat to
cushion her back. “She doesn’t think so, or at least that’s what she wants everyone to believe.”

“What do you believe?”

“She’s
soooo
much better off without him. He’s such a loser.”

“Then it would appear that if Tom did leave because of you, you did your mother a favor.” He pulled into a turn lane and waited for traffic to pass. “I’m not sure I see the problem.”

“That’s what Mom said, too.” She eyed him. “How come you’re not married?”

“I was once, but it didn’t work out.”

“Why?”

She was testing him, seeing if the information highway ran both ways. “I wasn’t ambitious enough to provide the lifestyle she wanted and she was too ambitious to take time off to do things with me. It was your classic under- and overachiever match that neither of us recognized until we were years into the marriage and mired in the process of tearing each other apart.”

“Where is she now?”

“Houston. She has her own computer consulting business.”

“Do you ever see her?”

“We Email every so often, and when she comes to town to see her family we try to get together for lunch or dinner, but we’re starting to discover it’s not as easy to find things to talk about as it used to be. I’m not sure how much longer we’ll keep it up.”

“I think my dad is trying to get back together with my mom, now that Tom is gone.”

Not exactly the best news he’d had that day. There were a dozen things he wanted to say, but none that he should, so he kept his mouth shut.

“He’s been coming over a lot. Every day, as a matter of fact. Mom said it has nothing to do with her, that he’s trying to learn how to be a father, but that doesn’t make sense.”

Rick spotted a deer and slowed the truck. “Look—” He pointed to a stand of scrub oak, saying a silent prayer of thanks for the distraction. “See the doe?”

“Cool,” she breathed. “Oh, look, there’s another one.”

A second doe gingerly stepped forward, its ears cocked, listening, ready to spring at the slightest provocation. Rick knew if he brought the truck to a complete stop they would bolt, so he simply cut his speed to a crawl and passed slowly.

“They used to come around the cabin when I was little but there are too many people up there now,” she said. “At least that’s what Uncle Gene says. Now we get bears. But they come around at night so we never actually see them, just the stuff they do.”

“I understand Gene invited you to visit him in Japan.” Gene’s bank had talked him into a six-month stay to work out the final details of the merger.

She looked at him. “How did you know that?”

“He stopped by before he left to borrow one of my ocean fishing reels.” As soon as they were past the deer, he sped up again.

Lynda picked up a CD case off the seat and
absently looked at it. “How come you never stop by to see me anymore? You used to come every day when I was in the hospital, or almost everyday. Did I do something wrong?”

Shit, she’d done it again—blindsided him and left him scrambling for an answer. “I can see why you might think that, but you got it wrong this time.” He needed a way to tell her the truth without telling her too much. “I backed off because I was getting too close to you and your mother to do my job the way I’m supposed to do it. I was getting too involved in your life to maintain any objectivity. And that wasn’t good for you or me.”

“So you can’t be my friend?”

“I can be your friend, I just can’t be your best friend. That’s Brian’s job. Or Wendy’s.”

She was instantly angry. “You’ve been talking to my mother about me. I hate that. What did she tell you?”

“She’s worried about you.”

“So that’s the real reason you came to see me today? Because she called you?”

“Yes.”

“Take me home.”

“No.”

“Then stop the truck and I’ll walk.”

She was crying again. “Tell me what happened, Lynda. What did Brian do?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Rick pulled into Sandra’s driveway and stopped the truck. Sandra would know not to come out until they were closer to the house, so they had time. “I’m
going to tell you something about men and women that has taken me forty-two years to figure out. It will make your life infinitely easier if you pay attention.”

She wiped her cheeks on her sleeve and looked at him, a challenge in her eyes. She was willing to listen, but not for long.

“My wife’s heart was broken when we lost our baby. I broke it a second time when I brought her pink roses. I knew Barbara loved yellow roses, but I chose the pink because pink is for girls and our baby was a girl. Barbara thought I forgot what she liked, or possibly that I didn’t care enough to find yellow roses for her. She never said anything and I never knew why she didn’t talk to me for two days until three years after we were divorced.”

“She should have said something. That wasn’t fair.”

“That’s easy to say when it involves someone else. A lot harder to deal with when it’s you. Whatever happened between you and Brian might not be the same kind of misunderstanding, but you’ll never know if you don’t talk to him to find out.”

She was quiet for a long time. “If only I hadn’t worn that damned sweater…”