Facelift (38 page)

“I’ll be lucky to do one.”

He puts an arm over my shoulder and I seek out Pam in the crowd. Do Jack’s actions upset her? She seems oblivious, talking to Gabe and Izzie. Maybe she’s not the jealous type. She’s a lot closer to the Proverbs 31 woman than I am.

“I’ve got my money on you.”

His statement stuns me. “You do?”

“Absolutely.” He steps away and onto the block. Before I can come up with a clever response, he makes a clean dive. Inwardly I groan imagining the belly flop I’ll do in a few minutes. But hopefully he’ll be too busy to notice.

Keeping my robe over my swimsuit, I watch Jack a few minutes as he overtakes the swimmer in my lane. Heat works its way up the back of my neck. It feels as if everyone is watching me watch Jack, so I wander off toward the bleachers in hopes of catching Marla. It’s not hard to spot her. She’s lurking around a corner, keeping to herself. She wears a scarf over her head and around her neck, resembling a burka.

“Marla!”

She hesitates, looks as if she might make a run for it but then stands still while I walk toward her.

“Thanks for coming today to support Izzie. I know she really appreciates that.”

“Sad thing about that little girl.” Her lips press together as she shakes her head. “Hard to understand something like that.”

Nodding, I thumb over my shoulder. “I saw Harry. He gave a very generous donation.”

“We went in together.”

She always wants the credit. But I suppose it doesn’t matter today. So I force a smile. “That’s very nice of both of you. Thank you. It’s for a good cause.”

“Isabel has her swim cap on. Is she still hiding her bald head?”

“Actually her hair is starting to grow. But it creates drag. For faster score times she keeps a cap on in the pool. It won’t be long before she’ll be sporting a short do.”

“Well, she’s young. It’ll grow.”

I manage not to roll my eyes the way Izzie would. There’s not much else to say. “What are you going to do about Harry?”

“Harry?” Marla waves a hand as if he’s an afterthought. “Oh, he is congenial.”

“You mean he does what you want?”

Her lips purse, and she gives me a hard glare. “I don’t appreciate that remark.”

“He really loves you.”

“I know.” Her voice is quiet, not triumphant the way I imagined.

“Do you love . . . care for him?”

“In a way. Not like Bradford. Not like Anderson. But now I’m beginning to see that was superficial. Fun and freeing, but shallow. Since my surgery . . . well, it’s over with Anderson. But Harry . . . is different. He sees me . . .”

“As you want to be?”

“In ways I never imagined. I don’t even think my husband did that. Bradford only saw what he wanted to see.”

My heart expands toward her. It’s the deepest nonconfrontational conversation we’ve ever had. “He loved you too, Marla.”

“For a long time after his death, I doubted that. But I suppose he loved me as much as he could love anyone.”

“Isn’t that all there is for any of us?” I look up in the stands and see Isabel sitting with friends. She learned the hard way that parents disappoint. As I did. “We’re all flawed. And we just do the best we can. We have to rely on God’s grace.”

Marla slants a gaze in my direction. “Does that mean you’ve forgiven Cliff?”

I take a slow breath and release it, surprised that I don’t feel that old tightness in my diaphragm. “I suppose I have. Honestly, I haven’t thought about him much. I’ve been too busy. And I’m not sure I felt like I needed to forgive him. He’s acted the way he usually does. I shouldn’t have expected more from him. Unrealistic expectations were my fault. So maybe I simply needed to forgive myself.”

The corners of her mouth remain tense. “For trying to change him?”

“For choosing him in the first place.”

Her eyes widen, one more than the other. But then she nods. “I chose poorly too. But there’s always a second chance.” Her gaze drifts toward Harry, who’s talking with a couple of swimmers. My gaze veers like the pull of a strong magnet toward Jack. His strokes are strong and smooth, sure and confident. It feels as if my blinders have been removed. A bit of an old hymn comes back to me, “I was blind but now I see.”

I do indeed, just as Dorian Gray finally saw the sin in his own life rather than projecting onto others. And amazingly, it’s okay. More than that . . .

It’s freeing.

It’s not much of a race when I make my pseudodive off the boards and into the cool water. Jack’s several laps ahead of me. I had a chance to appreciate his long, smooth strokes, his strong kick—good form. Not that I’m an expert, but I have watched my share of swim meets and practices. My form is lacking, casual at best, and I find myself angling to the left and end up bumping into the ropes. Jack pauses, treading water.

“Keep your eye on the wall.” His coaching style is natural. Then he kicks out and moves a few feet away. “Or were you trying to distract me?”

I splash water at him and try to kick off something . . . but there is nothing, and I go under the water and come up spluttering. Thankfully Jack is further down the lane and spares me any more embarrassment.

After I’ve managed another lap, Jack passes me, makes his flip at the wall, and gives me a thumbs-up.

Already I’m gasping for air but I push off the tiled wall and switch to a backstroke. This time I bounce from the right rope to the left and end up treading water for a minute in the middle of the pool. I switch to a lazy sidestroke and watch Jack move past me several times.

By the time I reach my goal, my legs wobble and my shoulders ache as I pull myself out of the pool. I swam more laps than ever before, probably in my whole life put together. Jack is still going strong, but I turn my lane over to the next swimmer, a younger, leaner candidate, who makes a splash as she hits the water.

Someone has moved my cover-up, so I wrap my towel around me, wishing it covered a bit more of me. I log my laps and contribution to Lily’s Cause. It’ll be up to me to contact all who sponsored me and collect their payments. Turning, I see Pam sitting on the front row of bleachers and talking to another mom, but her gaze follows Jack as he continues swimming. A tightness seizes my stomach. Her eyes shine, her smile full. It’s not a muscle cramp, but suddenly I can’t draw a deep breath. Raw, unfettered emotion bubbles to the surface. Feeling disjointed, like I’ve got a light case of the bends, I need some fresh air and a minute alone.

When I reach the warmth of the outdoors, I sit on the sidewalk, pull my knees to my chest and rest my cheek against my knee. Fall in Texas is full of extremes with temperatures ranging from low forties to the nineties, much like my emotions these days. But oak leaves have changed to yellows and browns and have begun fluttering to the ground.

Closing my eyes, I feel a slight breeze stir the hair at my nape as it begins to dry. And suddenly tears spring forth. I’m not sure where they are coming from or why they continue but they are from a deep place of loneliness. I feel as if all my dreams come pouring out. Some dreams, like Jack, I was never even aware of until recently. I let the disappointment and sorrow wash over me. I suppose it’s a day for tears.

I don’t understand. Why after all this time, after trying hard to make things work, am I left alone?

But you’re not.

The still, small voice is not so much in my head as in my heart.

In that moment I realize the truth: that’s been my fear all these years. But I’m not alone. I look up at the sun-bleached sky until the sun’s rays make my eyes burn and water even more. As I squeeze them closed, I feel a smile emerge and spread across my face. I’m not alone. I never have been. And I’m okay with that.

“I’m okay with that, God,” the words whisper out of me. “If it’s just You and me, God, from here on out, all right. I don’t need a man to make me feel complete. I can’t depend on Izzie to always be here with me. I don’t understand all that has happened, but You’ve changed me. I can’t see the road ahead, but I trust You. I trust You.”

I’m not sure how long I sit there before I sense I’m not alone anymore. A hand presses on my shoulder, and I open my eyes to Jack’s concerned face.

“You okay?”

I rub the corner of the towel over my face, and still my cheeks feel stretched in some goofy grin. “Exhausted, but . . . yeah, okay.”

The words are not fake as they might once have been, but authentic.

Jack sits down beside me, a towel draped over his shoulders. His skin is cool but dry. His hair sticks out in all directions. “You sure?”

“Never better, actually.” I stare out at the blue sky that seems endless and unfathomable. “How’d your swim go?”

“I exceeded expectations.”

I turn my smile on him.

His brow crinkles. “Okay, what’s up? You win the lottery?”

I laugh and shake my head, feel a water droplet roll down the side of my face. “I can’t really explain it. I just feel . . . good.”

He rubs his flat belly. “I’m starving.”

“You sound like Gabe.”

“Just a growing boy.”

“There’s pizza and sandwiches inside.”

He shakes his head. “After all this I need a real sit-down dinner.”

“Okay.”

“So you’ll join me, then?”

I glance back over my shoulder at the natatorium’s brick wall. “What about the swim-a-thon?”

“It’ll keep going until we get back.”

“Do you want to see if Gabe and Izzie want to go?”

His gaze electrifies me. “Not really.”

“What about Pam? I saw her . . . inside.”

He tucks his chin down and studies me beneath heavy lids. “Gabe’s mom? Why Pam?”

“I thought . . . well, it seemed to me . . .”

“What?”

“That you two were . . . that y’all were maybe seeing each other.”

“You’re full of funny ideas, Kaye.”

“It makes sense.”

“Because I was her husband’s best friend? And she’s a lonely widow?”

I try to read his expression but can’t. “I guess, yeah. But . . . you know . . . the kids too?”

“Oh, yeah, right. Of course. It makes sense.” He shakes his head. “We dated before she and Luke started seeing each other.”

“Yes.” And duh!

“We weren’t right for each other.”

He’s quiet for a long minute while a couple of teens pass us and head toward a car across the lot. “You didn’t think I could be interested in you?”

“N-no.” My voice stutters.

“We’re going to have to work on that.”

Suddenly I understand what he’s asking me, and my heartbeat quickens. The corner of my towel slides off my knee and I place it back, my hand trembling ever so slightly. “So you’re asking me to dinner . . . as a date?”

He nods, his eyes wide as if I’m mentally slow. Which I guess I am. “Yes, Kaye. I want to take you out on a date. Remember that kiss?”

My face flames. “Which one?”

“Exactly. I wasn’t kidding when I told you I was willing to suffer through another one any time you wanted.” He’s watching me as if my emotions are playing across my face—shock, denial, shock, understanding, shock, exuberance. “
Now
what are you grinning about?”

“Just an inside joke.” I glance up at the sky again and wink.
Thanks, God.

“I
do
stand a chance.”

Epilogue

The house is quiet, almost too quiet. Izzie has taken Gabe driving, showing off her new license. I’ve got my cell phone in my robe’s pocket. Just in case. I pour a fragrant cup of coffee and carry it outside. A mild spring breeze ruffles bits of hair that have fallen out of my Velcro rollers.

The cough and whir of a neighbor’s lawn mower erupts nearby. It sputters and the clean scent of freshly mown grass wafts toward me. A twig sticking up in the flower bed snags my attention. Frowning, I notice several twigs sticking up out of the ground where once my rose bushes bloomed copiously. But Cousin It saw to it they never bloomed again.

I set my coffee cup on the patio table and walk over to the bed with new mounds of dirt piled up around several twigs. A breeze makes the gate swing open. What is going on?

Before I can close the gate, Jack backs his way through the opening. Behind him rolls a squeaky red wagon. Inside it are good-sized twigs sticking out of green gallon cartons. He sees me and his hazel eyes brighten. “Morning.”

I should have known. A smile emerges even as I touch a roller on top of my head. “What are you doing here? I thought you said last night you had work to do.”

“Believe me, this is work.” He waves toward the plants. “I’ve been waiting a good six months to take care of this.”

While he situates the red wagon where he wants it, I yank out my curlers, toss them beside the coffee cup then fluff my hair, trying to finger comb it into some semblance of order. “And what’s that?”

“Roses. I’m replacing the ones that Cousin It dug up last year.”

I walk toward him again. “What makes you think she won’t dig these up?”

“She wouldn’t dare.” He grins, then touches one of my curls, causing a ripple in my belly. “What happened to your rollers?”

“I thought I’d hold off on the Halloween look till October.”

“I kind of liked it.”

I shake my head, then glance behind him. “Where’s your buddy?”