Just Over The Mountain (7 page)

Susan and Julianna looked across the table at each other, their mouths set in grim lines. The idiots they were married to had no idea they’d just completely insulted both women. After a long night of bashing, this was the last straw. If Susan had been younger, she would have fled from the room crying. If Julianna weren’t so tired from taking care of a house and five kids, she’d have picked up her fork and stabbed Mike. Instead, they both got up from the table and took their cake plates and coffee cups into the kitchen.

“That tears it,” Susan said. “I’m not letting him get away with that.”

“I don’t know which one of them is worse, the one who doesn’t want his wife to go to work or the one who thinks his wife
isn’t
working.”

“And all that stuff about Myrna and Blythe and running off the preacher…”

“Loose tongues. Beer brains. I’m going home.”

“I’ll bring Lindsey home tomorrow after a big breakfast.”

“Thanks. Have a good sleep.”

“I’m sleeping with the girls.”

“Good idea.”

They embraced and said goodbye in the kitchen. When they exited the kitchen, Susan went down the hall to her bedroom where the little girls lay sprawled on her king-size bed, the popcorn bowl half emptied on the floor and the movie over.

Julianna went to the baby, wrapped him up, held him on her shoulder as she got the keys out of her purse. “Mike,” she said sharply. “Bring the diaper bag. Now.” And out the door she went.

Dumb and Dumber sat at the table in confusion. Mike was the first to recover. “Uh-oh,” he said. “We’re in trouble.”

“No way! What did
we
do?”

Mike stood from the table. “I think it’s what we didn’t do, pal. I think we didn’t have, you know, humor.”

“Oh, man,” John whined. “I was just joking around!”

Mike grabbed the strap of the diaper bag and headed for the door, left open. “Good luck, bud. You’re gonna need it.”

The door was barely closed when Susan returned to the living-dining area. She held a pillow and two blankets; late-summer nights were chilly in the valley. She tossed them on the sofa.

“Aw…Susan…”

“If you get uncomfortable, Sydney will be in my bed, so hers will be vacant.”

“Susan, honey…”

“Every time you opened your mouth tonight, things got worse. So do yourself a favor and shut up.”

“But Susan…” he said to her departing form. He was stopped by the closing of his bedroom door. It closed with soft but unmistakable finality.

June had had a quiet Saturday on call. She attended one asthma attack that had turned out to be minor, and one small head laceration on an active eleven-year-old boy that took a few stitches. She had the boy’s mother bring him to the clinic so she could use the treatment room rather than work out of the ambulance.

She was just putting the treatment room back in order—wiping the counter and thinking about calling the Toopeeks to see if she could drop in for coffee later—when she heard the clinic door open. If there was a car outside the clinic, the assumption was that the doctor was in. She poked her head out of the treatment-room door and looked down the long hallway toward the reception area and front door. During office hours the door between the waiting room and hallway would be closed, but after hours it was
propped open so that one could see from the front door to the back door.

“Hey June-bug,” Chris Forrest said.

She felt her cheeks grow immediately warm at the sight of him coming in the door. His years in San Diego had caused him to lose those small-town looks, leaving him a little more citified. The pants he wore were pleated and cuffed, his shirt was a Polo, his watch was gold, his shoes loafers. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow. And he was tall. So tall. When they’d dated in high school Elmer used to refer to them as a couple of noodles, for June wasn’t short and she was whip thin.

He came down the hall, and as he drew nearer, he ran his hand through his errant dark brown hair, not as curly as it had been in his youth, but still plenty thick.

“You have a few minutes to talk, June?” he asked.

“What’s up?” she asked, resisting the urge to fan her cheeks. Why was she flushing anyway? she wondered.

He took a deep breath. “This is way overdue. I have lots of explaining to do.”

She tossed the paper towel she had used on the counter into the trash and washed her hands. “You do? I don’t understand.” But she did understand.

“It’s been twenty years, we never talked about it, and—”

“Hey, Chris.” She turned to him, held up a hand and forced a smile. “Let it go. It was a long time ago. Forget about it.”

“But you’re still mad. And you have every right to be.”

“Mad? Me? Don’t be ridiculous!”

“June-bug, I know you. And you’re still mad at me.”

“You
don’t
know me! You might’ve known some kid who had a childhood crush on you a couple of decades ago, but believe me, I’ve gotten over you. I’m not mad. I’m simply not interested!”

And he smiled. Despite her efforts, she
sounded
angry. And if she was honest, she would have to admit to it. But what exactly it was that made her angry was a blur. Was it the fact that he ran off and got married to someone else while they were practically engaged? Or was it the fact that he never, in twenty years, attempted to explain why? Perhaps because, even now, after all this time and all this poorly concealed anger, she still noticed how damn good-looking he was? How
dare
he smile at her! Did she want to hear his excuses? Certainly! But she wouldn’t make it easy on him, because he just didn’t deserve that.

“Can we go somewhere?” he said. “The café? A park? Just so we can sit down. And talk.”

“We can sit in my office, if you insist there’s something you have to tell me.” Without waiting for his assent, she went to the office and placed herself behind the desk. Sadie perked up at the prospect of company and wagged a greeting to Chris, who responded with a friendly pat.

“My mom told me you had old Mikos Silva’s dog.”

“Sadie was willed to me, actually. I was treating Mikos for congestive heart failure. He left a note asking me to take her. Now she’s my very best friend. Have a
seat.” June folded her hands on top of her desk and waited. She hoped she looked like a parole officer.

“You look good, June. You haven’t gotten a day older.”

She grimaced. Fishing for compliments, probably. Well, she wouldn’t oblige him. In fact, he looked better with a little maturity. Why did men do that? “Thanks,” she said.

His grin only grew wider and he chuckled. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

She sighed in exasperation. “Chris, what is it you want to say to me?”

“That I’m sorry. That I want to make amends. That I’ve spent more years regretting what I did to you than you’ll believe.”

“Okay, forgiven,” she said, placing the palms of her hands on her desk as if to rise.

“Come on, June. Give me a break. Please?”

She sat back down.

“When we were kids, I was really in love with you. Really. When you went away to college and I stayed behind, I could hardly stand the separation. On top of that, even the little community college was a huge struggle for me. I always struggled in school, you know that. My folks thought I wasn’t trying, but I was. I only lost interest in school because it was so foreign to me. I’m slightly dyslexic, as it turns out. So, I was doing okay, writing love notes, waiting for weekends, while you were attending the big college and getting straight As, but I felt like a big dope. I felt entirely not smart enough for you.”

“As it turns out…”

“I really didn’t expect you to be sympathetic…”

“Wise of you,” she said.

“See! You
are
mad!”

“Well, if you have to know the truth, I was somewhat pissed that you promised to marry me and then ran off with another girl. And not just
any
other girl, but the very one who tried to get you away from me for all the years of my youth.”

“Because you cut me out of your life,” he said.

“What are you talking about?”

“We were going to get married after college, June. It was all mapped out. I was killing myself trying to pass stupid junior college so I could go to Berkeley after two years, to be with you, to maybe live together on the sly, and what did you do? You decided to be a doctor.”

“My teachers all thought—”

“And I heard about it from Doc. Not from you. ‘Well, she changed her major to medicine,’ he said. ‘I should have known,’ he said. ‘Now you’re looking at about eight to twelve years of study, Chris, old boy,’ he said to me.”

She was quiet. Hadn’t she told him? Had she really expected him to keep all his promises while she just did whatever? “I was only eighteen,” she said.

“Yeah, me too,” he said.

“I gave you my virginity, you son of a bitch.”

“Well, I gave you mine, too, you know!”

“Oh. You did?” It was easy to forget that guys even had virginity, they were always putting such effort
toward acting like old experienced studs. “But I didn’t
leave
you!”

“Yeah, you did. And instead of either one of us talking about this rift, we went our separate ways. I joined the navy, you became a doctor.”

“You didn’t just join the navy, Chris. You got married.”

“I’m still not exactly sure how that happened,” he said. “But it was a huge mistake. The marriage wasn’t good. Nancy came with me to San Diego and got pregnant, so we got married. She had a miscarriage, and there you have it. It was another six years before the boys came along. Then her folks moved to San Diego to be closer to her and the kids and the rest is history. I’m sorry, June. I know how much I hurt you.”

“Like I said,” she said, but without that edge in her voice, “I’m over you.”

“I like that word, ‘over.’ Think you could put a ‘start’ in front of it?”

She laughed humorlessly. “Can you be serious? Do you really think you can come back to town after twenty years and say, ‘Whoops. Let’s give it another try’?”

“Well, not just like that. I thought we’d…you know…date. Or something.”

She leaned back in her chair. It would be so much more convenient if she could just say she had someone in her life and was not available. But when you were sleeping with an undercover cop no one was supposed to know about, things got dicey. She found herself smiling. How like Chris to waltz back into her life like
that, explain in less than ten minutes how this little misunderstanding had resulted in one bad marriage and one broken heart, and how simple it would be to just start over and make it right.

The phone rang and she picked it up. “Dr. Hudson,” she answered. She listened, threw in an occasional uh-huh, scribbled on a pad and finally said, “Sarah, give him an aspirin and if he stops breathing, do you know CPR? Good. I’m on my way.”

She stood up and headed for the door. “Come on, Sadie. Gotta run, Chris. Gotta lock up, let’s go.”

“What is it?” he was asking, running out the door so she could lock it.

“A patient with chest pains.” She locked the clinic door, let Sadie jump into the ambulance ahead of her and then started it up. She lowered her window and said, “Oh, Chris. We’re not going to date. Or anything.” She raised the window and turned on the bells and whistles.

J
une called the police department for assistance at the Kelleher farm and asked Deputy Lee Stafford to meet her there. June couldn’t imagine what Daniel Culley would be doing at the Kelleher place.

Sarah was an artist in her early fifties who had moved to the valley from the Bay Area ten years ago. She was divorced, had grown children and a couple of grandchildren. After years of creating, teaching and showing her work in the chaos of the big city, she had decided on the quiet beauty of the country.

She had purchased a big old farmhouse on the edge of town and converted the garage into a mammoth studio with skylights and windows. There she painted, sculpted, threw pots, sewed and crafted. She also gardened voraciously and shared her produce. And her baking was to die for. She kept pets—cats, dogs, a couple of large birds—and had frequent visitors of family and friends from all over the country, establish
ing that she was loved by those near and far. She was a round, plush woman of deep beauty with a soft spirit that one felt like sinking into. Sarah was like a warm blanket. Though she was a newcomer of ten years, she had been immediately accepted and embraced.

June knew that Sarah had added a pair of riding horses to her menagerie a couple of years ago, but they weren’t the type of horses Daniel trained. She couldn’t fathom the connection between Sarah and Daniel. Was he buying art from her? Were Blythe and Sarah friends?

These questions were soon answered when Sarah came to the door in her dressing gown. “Thank goodness you’re here,” she said. “He scared me to death. Every time he tried to get up and dress, he said he felt like one of his horses was sitting on his chest.”

Bag in hand, June followed Sarah through the house to the bedroom. Propped against a few pillows, and wearing only his undershirt and boxers, was Daniel Culley.

Poor Daniel didn’t even have the energy to blush. His pallor was grayish and his eyes sparkled with fear that he might be dying. June sat on the edge of the bed, pulled a vial of nitroglycerin out of her bag, and slipped it into his mouth. “Hold this under your tongue, young man, and let me get your blood pressure.” He sighed and sank back into the pillows, relieved. “I’m here, Daniel. You’re going to be all right. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He nodded, as though he knew this. “Lee Stafford is on his way, in case I need assistance in moving you.” He nodded again, pinching his eyes
closed. A lot of people were going to soon be in on this secret. Too soon, the question of what Daniel had done to rile Blythe to the point she’d shot at him would be answered.

His pressure was understandably a little high, but his pulse was normal and strong. June listened to his heart—nice and steady, no congestion.

Within a few minutes his chest pains had subsided. “It’s gone! What was it?” he wanted to know. “Gas? Heartburn?”

“No, Daniel. Probably angina. I don’t think you had a heart attack. I have a portable EKG in the ambulance, but we don’t even need to bother with that. I’m going to take you to the hospital and let them give you a workup.”

“I feel pretty good now,” he said. “You sure I can’t just get back to the stables? As long as I go easy?”

“Absolutely sure. You’d be taking a major risk.”

“To the hospital, Daniel,” Sarah said firmly. “You’ll do exactly as June says. Thank you, June,” Sarah said, tears in her voice. “I don’t know when I’ve been more scared. I was afraid I was losing him.” She caressed Daniel’s face with her soft palm. “So soon after finding him.”

“I’m probably too mean to die,” Daniel said. “Sarah, you’ll have to call her.”

“I will, Daniel. But I’m going to go with you to the hospital.” She looked at June. “Can I call Blythe from the hospital?”

“Um, look, I don’t mean to get into your personal
business here, but do you think it might be better if I called her?”

“Blythe knows all about Sarah. They’ve talked before.”

“We’re friends, actually, though she’s been a little tense with me lately,” Sarah said.

A little tense? June thought. She had to stop herself from laughing out loud at the absurdity of it. “Yes. Well, understandably, this must be a little difficult for her.”

“We could have the situation all straightened out, but Blythe is being pigheaded,” he insisted. “Sarah, go call her and tell her I’m going to the hospital.”

“Shall I follow the ambulance or ride along?”

“Um, follow, if you’re okay to drive,” June said. “Then you’ll have a vehicle to get home in, in case I get tied up and can’t drive you back.”

“Good. Fine.” She leaned down, clutching the loose bosom of her dressing gown together over her full breasts, and kissed Daniel on the head. Daniel looked up at her with the eyes of a man in love, and June saw Sarah for the first time as both nurturing and sensual. “You’re going to be okay now,” she told him with confidence. “I’ll get dressed and call Blythe.”

“Hello?” Lee called from the front door of the house.

“Back here, Lee,” June called. Sarah slipped into the bathroom before being seen and Lee appeared at the bedroom door. “Can you bring in the gurney? We’re going to give Daniel a ride to the hospital. He had some chest pains.”

“Sure thing. Hey, Daniel.”

“Hey, Lee.”

The two men appraised each other for a moment, as if to say, “Guess we both know why Blythe pummeled your arse full of buckshot.” Then Lee went after the gurney and nothing more was said.

By the time Daniel was loaded and June and Lee were rolling him through the living room and past the kitchen, Sarah was dressed and on the phone. “Yes, of course you should be at the hospital, Blythe, and I’d like to meet you there… No, I’m afraid this time I can’t stay away… Well, dear, I don’t mean to seem unkind, but haven’t we given you all the time in the world for that? Hmm? You’re going to have to accept this change sooner or later because Daniel and I are committed to being together. The sooner you come around, the sooner the three of us can have a nice relationship. This terrible scare proves that we can’t wait any longer just because you’re uncomfortable…I do hope you understand, because you’re very important to us both. We love you, Blythe.”

June had heard of modern couples, but this was taking things a bit far, she thought. Sarah was chastising Blythe for taking so long to accept this affair, calling it a “change?” On the one hand, she seemed so gentle and patient, but on the other hand, the concept was just plain mean. June honestly didn’t know what to make of it.

“I’ll be right along, darling,” she called to Daniel as he was wheeled out the door.

An hour later, Sarah was sitting close to Daniel’s bedside, holding his hand, explaining that Blythe couldn’t bring herself to appear at the hospital. June
asked if she could speak to Sarah in the hall. It was difficult to think of Sarah as a predator, a woman who would go after another’s husband. She was so sweet, so loving, so devoted to peacefulness. But still…

“Sarah, forgive my outspokenness, but surely you can see why this is hard for Blythe to accept. Can’t you?”

“It’s not at all what you think, June. I’d never take another woman’s husband.”

“But it appears that you have,” June said.

“Things are not always what they appear to be.”

“Well, then, what is it I don’t understand?”

Sarah put a soft, warm hand on June’s arm and looked pleadingly into her eyes. “We gave Blythe our word that we wouldn’t speak of her situation. We promised to give her time to accept our love for each other, and to decide how she would like to handle letting the community know that Daniel and I are going to be a couple. She’s embarrassed, understandably so. I’ve been slinking around in the shadows for two years now, June. Soon, I won’t be able to honor that promise anymore. Soon, Daniel and I will have to explain if Blythe won’t.”

“Explain? Some special circumstance?”

“Exactly so.”

June chewed on this for a minute. “What a mess,” she finally said.

“Yes, it is. It doesn’t have to be, but it is. And I’m concerned about Blythe. She’s not facing reality. Maybe you could talk to her?”

June’s mouth dropped open. “What would I say?”

“I don’t know, but she should have some help with
her dilemma. If only she’d talk about it with someone besides just me.”

June fought shock again. “She talks to you about the situation?”

“Of course. She doesn’t really have anyone else. When you have time, June, will you check on her?”

“I’ve known Blythe and Daniel for years, Sarah, but until a couple of weeks ago when I was called out to the stable on an emergency, neither of them has ever been my patient. It might be out of line for me to say anything at all to her.”

“Isn’t it appropriate to speak to Daniel’s family? He’s obviously your patient now.”

“I don’t know. Let me think about it for a while.”

“Okay,” Sarah said. “Then I’ll get back to Daniel. I wouldn’t be surprised if the stress of all his trouble with women gave him his chest pains.”

While June was driving back to Grace Valley, she thought about nothing else. These domestic crises, romantic triangles and the like, could be extremely volatile. For all the joking the town did about Daniel’s butt full of buckshot, real tragedy could erupt out of a situation like that. She didn’t want to talk to Blythe. She didn’t want to be in the middle. On the other hand, she’d never forgive herself if something terrible happened that she could prevent. She thought she might have to ask her dad’s advice on this one.

Sunday morning at the Forrest house, Birdie was up frying bacon and listening to her favorite spiritual
station. It got her in the mood for church, and now that there was a new pastor in town, they could all go back to the Presbyterian at the center of town.

Judge, already in his starched white shirt and tie, brought the paper from the porch to the table. “Don’t expect much,” he told his wife. “That pastor doesn’t know any of us yet, so it isn’t likely he’s going to have a sermon that caters to the town.”

“He doesn’t need to,” Birdie said. “In fact, it doesn’t matter what he has to say today. All that matters is that the church is open and people can gather there again. How do you want your eggs?”

“Any old way. Scrambled,” he said, snapping the paper open.

She cracked a couple of eggs into a bowl and said, “Where are those boys? I called them fifteen minutes ago.”

“I heard a shower. Someone’s up,” Judge said.

The Forrest house had a master bedroom on one side of a kitchen-dining-living area that they’d added a master bath to about seven years back. It saved steps, especially in the morning. On the other side of the living room were two bedrooms separated by a bathroom. That was where she’d put her son and grandsons.

When she knocked on her grandsons’ door, Chris opened his door. He was wearing a terry robe and toweling his hair. “Let ’em sleep, Ma,” he said. “They don’t want to go this morning.”

“But we always go, Chris,” she said. “It’s a family thing.”

“They’ve been through a lot. With Nancy and me and all that. Give ’em another week or two, huh?”

“Well, all right. You know best, I suppose. How would you like your eggs?”

“Any old way,” he said, grinning. “Scrambled.”

She patted his cheek, so happy to have him around. “I think you should have them up, dressed and eating, but you know best.”

Routine was important to Birdie, and at her age one didn’t change easily. She liked to get up early on a Sunday morning, have the one big breakfast of the week, clean up the kitchen, appoint the dining table and put in a pot roast or chicken and vegetables. She’d set the timer on the oven, dress for church, have a little time with the Sunday paper and go off to church, leaving the radio on. They would come home to soft spiritual music, a tidy and welcoming home and the savory smells of their Sunday meal.

Pastor Shipton did all right for his first Sunday. The church wasn’t half-full; it would take time for people to get back into the routine. Some may have found other churches over the summer and might not return. But she was so relieved to have their church back, nothing else mattered.

When Birdie, Judge and Chris approached the house, it was to the sound of rock music. Rock noise. “What the hell is all that
racket?
” Judge wanted to know.

“That, Dad, is the sound of teenage life,” Chris said.

When they walked into the kitchen through the back
door, Birdie gasped. Her kitchen was a disaster. Cereal bowls, plates and glasses half-full of milk lay scattered everywhere, and the refrigerator door was ajar. The music was too loud to think. Chris turned it down, which brought the boys from the back. “Hey!” one of them protested. “What’d you do that for?”

“Because it’s too loud,” Chris said.

“Well, we ain’t got our own system anymore, you know! You made us leave it behind. What are we supposed to do?”

“Boys,” Birdie said. “Come in the kitchen and clean up. This is a terrible mess.”

“Later,” Brad said.

“Yeah, Dad,” Brent said. “What’d you expect us to do?”

“Make do,” Chris said. “This is Grandma and Grandpa’s house, and they aren’t used to loud rock music. We’ll get you a radio set up as soon as we get settled.”

“Yeah, sure,” Brad said, turning in a pout to go back to his room.

“Later?” Birdie questioned, looking first at Chris and then at the remaining twin, Brent.

“Later,” Brent said, then turned and followed his brother.

Birdie looked at Chris in confusion. Later? Had they really just said that?

“Come on, Ma, they’re teenagers. Tough nuts. I’ll help in the kitchen.”

“Chris, you shouldn’t let them talk like that.
You
would never have been allowed to talk like that.”

“Times have changed, Ma. Come on.”

It was when they started cleaning up that Birdie noticed there were no savory smells coming from the oven. Upon inspection, she saw that it had been turned off. She opened the door and the interior was barely warm. She reset it and went to her grandsons’ room while Chris continued washing dishes from the kitchen table—dishes that had been taken right off the dining-room table and used.