Just Over The Mountain (10 page)

“June,” she said earnestly, “it depends entirely on what kind of husband you need. Since I hadn’t imagined having any kind of husband at all, Morton wasn’t really much trouble. And I’ve always enjoyed talking books.” She looked skyward. “I really don’t know what happened to Morton. Suddenly he was gone. There was no getting him back.” She looked at her brother. “I confess, I didn’t try. I knew we’d both be better off if we just let things lie. But I assure you, I didn’t chop him up and plant him in the garden!”

The teakettle whistled and June prepared tea. As she passed a cup to Myrna, she said, “But Aunt Myrna, why have you seemed to kill him off in book after grisly book?”

Myrna looked at her as if she were a total dunce. “My dear child, do you think story ideas grow on trees?”

The quilting circle always met at Birdie’s house because it was centrally located and because she was the most senior member. She was just shy of being the eldest as well, but Tom Toopeek’s mother, Philana, was older by a couple of years. They would not have wanted to meet at the Toopeeks’ house, however, because there were so many distractions there. Quilting, Birdie always said, is a quiet sport.

There was an unenforced rule that everyone would bring some sort of dish or snack and Birdie would be obligated only for coffee. It was not an enforced rule because there were times a person was too busy and rushed to even stop by the bakery for a little something. Thus, about half of them would remember to bring something, and June least of all.

But June, who had been absent for a month, felt the need to make amends, so she was up at 5:00 a.m. putting a chocolate cake in the oven. For her to bring something, given her chaotic schedule, was something in itself, and for it to be homemade reinforced the message that she was sorry to have been away. And while she preheated the oven and mixed the cake, she realized how she had missed them, how she longed for the company of her friends. She had been lonely, after all.

As if that thought carried a message across the country, the phone rang. Somehow she knew. In some psychic way, she never for a second thought her cake would be ruined by a medical emergency. She picked
up the receiver and heard the rich, deep voice of Jim. He said, “God, how I’ve missed you. Are you still my girl?”

She felt a warm flush pass through her. The sound of his voice, so familiar yet far from memory, filled her with new longing. And then a bizarre thing happened. When she wished to murmur back to him in loving tones, instead she sniped, “Barely.”

“Uh-oh. Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

She took a breath and begged herself to be rational. It was not like her to be waspish. “Do you have any idea how many weeks I’ve waited for a call?”

“I’m sorry,” he said patiently. “I’ve wanted to.”

June sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t know why—”

“It’s tough, this situation we’ve gotten ourselves into. I understand, June.”

“You can’t understand because even I don’t understand. It’s just that—” She couldn’t finish. Just that
what?

“I didn’t want it to be so long,” he said. “I know I miss you as much as you miss me. More, probably.”

“Are you in danger?” she asked.

“No. Really, no. I mean, that may come before we’re finished here, but at the moment everything’s cool.”

“If it’s
cool,
then why couldn’t you at least have gotten a message to me that you’re all right?”

She was stunned. Where had that come from? She had been missing him, but she hadn’t been in any way angry. Or had she? Had she stuffed down some penetrat
ing anger that had bounced up at her without any warning?

“June…”

“Oh God, Jim, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I guess I’ve been more upset than I realized. It’s probably because of my aunt. She’s in trouble and just yesterday I was in tears about it. You don’t know this, but I’m hardly ever in tears about anything. Jesus, forgive me. Yes, yes, I miss you, too.”

He was quiet a long moment, then she heard him sigh. “What kind of trouble?” he wanted to know.

“Somebody found bones in her backyard. Human bones. And, well, her husband disappeared about twenty years ago and she’s a writer and in several of her books over the years she’s killed off a husband or ten and buried them in the… This sounds really, really bad, doesn’t it?”

“Oh man,” he said.

“Maybe I’ve run into something I really can’t handle,” June said softly. “Little frail old Auntie Myrna in chains…” She sniffed quietly.

“June, are you crying again?”

It was not necessary to admit it, even though she muffled some of her tears in a handy tissue.

“I was so happy with you,” she said. “For such a short period of time.” And then it came again, the tears.

“Oh brother,” he said. “Look, try to get a grip. This isn’t going to last forever. And this is it, you know. The last time.”

“And you’re coming here?” she asked ridiculously.

“Where else would I go?”

“How do I know? You haven’t even called in a month!”

“I’m
undercover!
”

“Where we need to be is under the
covers!
” she nearly shouted.

Fortunately, what she heard in response was his deep laugh, rolling through the phone line to meet her. So she joined him, laughing at how stupid and out of control she was.

“I have to go,” he said when they finally stopped.

“Already?” she whined. “But you only just—”

“Listen to me, this is important. I’m not going to take any unnecessary chances, because I want to come back to you. You understand? So if I can’t call you, that’s just how it is. It doesn’t mean I’ve stopped wanting you.”

She wanted to tell him, “Say you love me again.” But instead she said, “I understand.” And she wanted to say, “I love you, Jim.” But instead she said, “Please be careful.”

“I will. Aunt Myrna will be okay, June. And I’ll be back with you soon.”

They disconnected and June drew a ragged breath. I’m losing it, she said to herself. Finally, there was just too much pressure. She blew her nose. She needed a long, hot shower to wash away the mood. She took her time, trying to get her thoughts on track. And when she got out of the shower she was greeted by the sweet-smelling smoke of burning chocolate cake.

The women of the Graceful Quilters made something of a fuss over June and Sadie. They would never
know how much June needed the extra attention, after the way she’d started the day, and Sadie never turned down a pet. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen them, for she saw them all the time, in various settings around town. But it was different seeing them here, in a quiet room, alone, sharing secrets and trusting the confidentiality of the group. She presented them with a chocolate cake made by Burt Crandall at the bakery and confessed it was her second cake of the day. And then she noticed that her darling Birdie was looking positively haggard.

June’s bond with Birdie went back to her infancy. Birdie was June’s godmother, her deceased mother’s best friend. There wasn’t a thing June couldn’t tell Birdie, or ask Birdie, except on the subject of her son, Chris. Both Birdie and June had some ragged edges where he was concerned.

Sadie was relegated to the kitchen, where she cozied up to the radiator. When they all sat down to quilt, Corsica asked, “Where are your houseguests tonight, Birdie?”

“Chris put some money on a house out by Roberts’s flower fields, not too far from the Toopeeks’, but it’s not habitable yet. It’s been vacant for years and needs lots of work. Judge, Chris and the boys are doing repairs out there tonight while we quilt.”

“They need to get their own place,” Philana said, not looking up from her stitching. “It would strain anyone to have so much clutter and confusion.”

“You live with five grandchildren!” Birdie argued.

“But I always have done,” Philana said.

That was it, June realized. Birdie was exhausted by the unaccustomed complications of long-term houseguests.

“Chris was always a lot of trouble,” Birdie said quietly. “Oh, I couldn’t ask for a better son. But he’s busy. Always busy. And now there are three of them.”

“When do they expect to be in their own place?”

“Not quite soon enough,” Birdie said, and the tension was broken by laughter.

They shared the news of the town, talking first about Charlotte’s shaky recovery at home with Bud waiting on her, then about Jessie taking her GED test in two weeks to complete her high-school diploma. Harry Shipton came up, along with his gangling good looks and love of poker. Finally the bones in Myrna’s yard surfaced as a topic, and it was unanimous that they could not be any relation to Morton Claypool. Justine’s pallor was mentioned with worry, but June held silent about the possibility of pregnancy, and before she knew it, they were putting away their quilt and having a cup of coffee. It felt so good to be back among them, nurtured and nurturing.

The spell was broken with the crashing disruption of four males bursting into the house, the gamy odor of hard work at carpentry accompanying them. June gave Judge a kiss on his weathered old cheek, said hello to Chris and the boys and quickly made her excuses. But it was not awkward because all the women dispersed. No one wanted to linger over coffee and cake with the men present. The twins headed for the kitchen where they made fast work of what was left of the cake, calling
to their grandmother for milk. Sadie was up and wagging hopefully, but the boys ignored her. What manner of boy didn’t stoop to pet a wagging dog? June wondered with a frown. “Come, Sadie,” she called. “Time for us to go.”

They all said their goodbyes on the porch, June being the only one on foot. Corsica and Jessie had ridden together, as had Ursula and her mother-in-law. Birdie went back into the house to attempt to regain control of her kitchen, while June headed down the street to the clinic where she’d left her little truck. The nights were cooling down faster as mid-September approached and she shivered in the chill air. As she passed under one of the two street lamps, she heard her name.

“Hey, June. Hold up.”

When she turned, Chris came out of the darkness toward her.

I
t’s not fair, June thought. She was moody, teetering on some weird emotional precipice. And lonely. So lonely with Jim so far away and who knew when, or God forbid,
if
he’d be back. And in that condition she had to view Chris walking toward her, approaching her with that damn confidence of his, that sexy grin that had sucked her in as a girl and would threaten the chastity of a weaker woman now. I’m vulnerable! she wanted to shout. Don’t mess with me!

“I just wanted to tell you that I was glad to see you at Mom’s tonight,” Chris said. “She was complaining about hardly seeing you lately. She wouldn’t admit it, but I think she was secretly blaming me.”

“I’ve been really busy,” June said. “And so has Birdie.”

“Yeah. She’s doing too much.”

“She’s looking a little tired, Chris…”

“She’s not used to having a houseful of people.”

“People? Guys, Chris. A cranky old husband, a grown son who’s just left his wife, and teenage twin boys. There’s enough testosterone in her house to grow a beard on a melon.”

That made him laugh. “You’re right. But we’ll be out of her hair soon enough. As soon as the house I just bought is livable.”

“You’re absolutely staying then?” she asked.

They stood under the street lamp on the dark, deserted street. It felt like a spotlight.

Sadie, enjoying her freedom, pranced back and forth across the street, paused beside June briefly, then pranced off again. The world was a place of plentiful smells for a collie, but she always circled back to make sure June wouldn’t leave without her. “I’m absolutely staying. Which is why I wanted to talk to you. For just a minute.” He glanced over his shoulder at the café as if looking for a haven and a cup of coffee, but it appeared to be closed. George didn’t keep regular hours, but if anything was going on—like a town meeting, high-school ball game or special event—you could count on him to be open. He was just about the only game in town. But on this ordinary Thursday night, it was lights out at 9:00 p.m.

“I was just heading back to the clinic for my truck, then home. I have an early morning and…”

“I’ll walk you,” he said. But he didn’t just walk alongside. He took her elbow and steered her in that direction. Out of the spotlight, at least. “I’m really bothered by something. When are things going to be easy again between us?”

“Aren’t they?” she countered, knowing that once again she was faking. There was an unmistakable edge to her voice.

“Seems like we’d run into each other a lot more than we have lately. And when we do, it’s a little tight. Tense. Am I imagining that?” he asked.

Chris. He always had been smooth. Even when he was just a kid.

“One of the things I’m most grateful for,” he went on, “is that everything here is the same. Undisturbed. Even the new businesses haven’t seemed to upset the balance of things. The town looks the same. The people are the same, except maybe a few years older. Even the trails, back roads and farms are just like they were when I left. The only thing that’s different is me and you. I mean, the way you are with me.” He stopped in the street, forcing her to stop too, and looked into her eyes. “Is there anything I can do to make things flow a little better between us?”

A memory was awakened in her. Before they were boyfriend and girlfriend, before they were young lovers talking about marriage, they had been best friends. June, Chris and Tom—and sometimes Greg Silva, when he didn’t have to help on his dad’s farm. They had played hard, camped out, trusted each other and talked about crucial things—their fantasies for the future, their fears and problems and deepest desires. Once they had all cut their hands and became blood brothers, forgetting June was the girl.

Was he still someone she could talk to?

She sighed in defeat. “Okay, I admit it,” she said. “You disrupted me by coming back. Especially the way you came blundering into my life asking if we could try again. Jesus.”

“Disrupted, huh?” he asked, grinning from ear to ear. “I bet you wanted to kill me.”

“Kill?” She laughed slyly. “Don’t be silly, Chris. Death was too good for you.”

“Aha!” he shouted as though victorious. He spread his hands wide. “The lady admits to violent thoughts! I knew it!”

“Well, I’m pretty much over those fantasies red with your blood, but I might still be a little tense. I don’t think that’s too unreasonable. I think it’s going to take some time.”

The look that came over his face was like sheer bliss. Incredible relief blushed with deep happiness. “God, that takes a load off my mind. I know I don’t deserve much consideration, but it hurt to think you might never forgive me. What would I do if I lost you forever, June-bug?”

I would know how that feels better than you, came to her mind. But she didn’t say it. Instead she walked on toward the clinic. She always preferred to hold her tongue for the sake of peace rather than speak up and risk discord. She was never sure whether this was a virtue or a character flaw. Am I of generous spirit or a big fat chicken, she asked herself. Again, his hand was on her arm, steering her through the darkness.

“There were plenty of times over the years that I fan
tasized about what it would be like when I came back, but I honestly didn’t know if I’d ever have the guts to do it. I left a lot behind, you know.”

Not the least of which was a wife, she thought. But again, silence.

“I had my own little neighborhood insurance office. Fortunately, Bob Hanson over in Rockport is going to let me into his shop.”

His hand on her elbow actually felt
good.
What was
that
about? Just more of that loneliness creeping into the picture? She said, “Job, house, school for the kids. You’re just about all set, aren’t you?”

“I thought I’d put up a little booth during the harvest festival. Bob hasn’t done that in the past, but he thinks it’s a good idea.”

“I agree. How are the boys liking it here?”

“So far they love it. They haven’t had this kind of freedom in their young lives. Where we lived in San Diego they were limited to the neighborhood, park and school. Here, it’s like all of Grace Valley is open to them.”

“Like it was for us” she heard herself say.

“It was a great way to grow up, wasn’t it, June-bug? We sure can’t complain of the childhood we had in this town.”

“It’s not a bad adulthood, either.”

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how is it you didn’t get married?”

She laughed hollowly. “Who was I going to marry, you nitwit?”

“Well, hell, you were away at school for about ten years. Didn’t they have men where you were?”

“Yeah, they had men there, but do you have any idea what medical school is like? Or internship and residency?” They reached her truck and she stopped. Be fair, she told herself. Getting along is better than being bitter. “Actually, I had a couple of close calls. But in the end, neither of them would have wanted to come here with me, and this was exactly where I’ve always wanted to be.”

“That’s true, huh?” he said as if he’d just remembered. “There were lots of kids we went to school with, farmers’ kids and loggers’ kids especially, who couldn’t wait to shake the dust of this dumpy little town off the soles of their shoes, but you always said this was the only place you ever wanted to live. So, you couldn’t find a small-town type to fall in love with?”

She shrugged. “There weren’t a whole lot of med students who just couldn’t wait to move to a tiny little burgh where they’d be paid in vegetables or eggs. But for me, it’s the perfect life. Most of the time.” She opened her truck door. “I’d better get home, Chris. I’ve had a long day. I was up at 5:00 a.m. burning up a cake.”

“What?”

She shook her head in exasperation. “Long story. The phone rang, I got distracted, I was baking a cake for quilting, and—”

“Little accident?”

“Big smell. I left all the windows open to air the place out. I hope I don’t find Mama and Papa Bear
eating porridge in my house. Where is that dog? Sadie!” she called. She gave a whistle and was immediately rewarded by the sound of Sadie’s tags jingling. “Good girl,” she said as the collie jumped in.

Chris put a hand on June’s shoulder. “Well, look,” he said, kind of stumbling. “Thanks for giving me, you know, a few minutes. I just couldn’t stand the thought that we wouldn’t be, well, good friends at least. You know?”

“I know,” she said.

“For now, anyway.” He leaned toward her to give her a friendly hug and peck on the cheek, but once he got close, he slowed way down. Hovered. His lips against her cheek, his hand on her shoulder. Cautiously and slowly, he slid his lips around to hers, his hand moving from her shoulder to her chin to lift her face to meet his.

She would ask herself later why she allowed this, for to lead Chris on would be a huge mistake, with him in this condition of wanting a second chance with her. But she was curious, and okay, lonely. What could it hurt to kiss him to be sure she didn’t feel anything for him anymore? Absolutely sure?

But she felt something. She wasn’t sure what it was. Perhaps memory, perhaps longing, perhaps vulnerability to the old boyfriend, or maybe she was just a cheap hussy who couldn’t resist the most attractive, single bachelor the town had to offer at the moment.

Damn, she thought, kissing him back. Some things never change, and Chris’s lips had not. He had always had great, soft lips that moved familiarly over hers. If
her life weren’t so complicated right now, it would be very easy to fall back into a routine with him. This was just what she remembered, and it felt good. But with the good-feeling kiss came the memory of what kind of boyfriend he’d been. When he tried to part her lips with his, she pulled back.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and immediately thought why am I sorry? “I shouldn’t have let you do that because…well, you know. I don’t want to have a romantic, you know—” She stammered and stuttered and couldn’t spit it out. “I was just curious. Curious, not interested. Think of it as…old time’s sake.”

He grinned down at her, but she could see in his smile that he thought he’d scored one. “It’s okay, June-bug. Don’t be sorry. I’m sure not sorry.”

“Chris, listen, you mustn’t think—”

“Hey, don’t worry! I’m a patient guy!”

“But—”

She was cut off by the lights from a vehicle that was heading straight at them. There was a loud whoop and the police SUV pulled up. Ricky Rios rolled down the window. “Mr. Forrest? Chris? You have any idea where your boys might be?”

“At home, brushing their teeth and getting ready for bed, I hope. At my folks’.”

“Well, sir, your mom thinks they might’ve come in the front door and gone right out the back.”

“Damn the little shits. Is she worried about them? They probably just—”

“No sir, she didn’t call me, I went by the house.
Someone was egging some houses over on Fourth Street. The back door to Burt’s bakery is jimmied open and it’s just a half block from Judge and Birdie’s, and—”

“Okay, Ricky, let’s see if we can rein ’em in,” Chris said, walking around the SUV to the passenger side. “Little devils sure can find plenty of trouble in just thirty minutes, can’t they? Bye, June. I’ll catch you later.”

There will be no catching, she thought. “Good luck,” was what she said.

June woke up earlier than usual the next morning, and the very first thing on her mind was that she had kissed Chris while she was seriously involved with Jim. Why had she let that happen? Was it because no one knew about Jim? Was it because he was invisible to everyone but her? and second, mystical—almost nonexistent?

But if she examined her feelings for Jim, they were bold. She was pretty sure she was in love with him.

The hell of it was, with Chris she had history, and with Jim, uncertainty. With Chris there was unfinished business, and it was high time there be closure. With Jim there was hope, but it was clouded by distance and time.

She sat up and shook her head. Maybe it was a good thing that she had to deal with the Chris issue, before she made a permanent commitment to Jim. It gave her a little time. Though she hadn’t pined over Chris all these years—her first love, her first broken heart—he
had never been very far from her thoughts. But now she had time to reckon with this issue once and for all, close it out, be sure she was done with that whole thing. She would be smart; this would finally be over.

She showered and dressed, though it was not yet dawn. The prospect of beating everyone else to the clinic appealed to her. She wanted to think, undisturbed and undistracted, about the kind of life she wanted. She couldn’t help but feel, deep down, that she was on the threshold of a new beginning. And she did her best thinking while alone at the clinic.

To say she had a special feeling about the place was an understatement. When she had come back to Grace Valley, her dad was still practicing out of his house, and that’s where she began her work in the valley. But the little country doctor’s office in his home was not even close to accommodating the growing population. Elmer had been thinking of moving his practice over to Rockport, near the hospital;

June’s idea was build the clinic. She’d been dreaming of just such a clinic for the town for as long as she’d been studying medicine. And the town rallied to support the construction, each person in whatever way possible, no matter how slim their means. Free tile for the floor, a little gratis construction work, donated supplies, a few dollars tossed into the hat. In the end it was Aunt Myrna who secured the building loan and guaranteed it. She also bought the ambulance after June wrecked her Jeep on a dangerous curve while out on an emergency call. Myrna was loaded. And how loaded only she knew for sure.

When June pulled into town, she noticed that the café was already open—a good hour early. And next, with a bit of disappointment, she saw that she wasn’t the first to arrive at the clinic. The ambulance was already parked outside at this predawn hour. The building was dark, however, and when June and Sadie got to the back door, she found it locked.

She opened the door and flipped on the hall light. “John?” she called, but there was no answer. The first room to her right contained two beds and functioned as a recovery room for patients who had outpatient procedures that required sedatives or local anesthesia. The other rooms held examining tables and gurneys. In one of the beds, sleeping in his clothes, was John Stone. He must have had a patient in the middle of the night and decided not to go all the way back home, June reasoned.