Authors: Danielle Steel
I'm sorry, Licia. There were tears in her eyes now too. I just can't go back.
I know. It's okay. She laughed through her tears and gave Kate another fierce squeeze. Take good care of my godchild, kiddo.
You take good care of you.
And with that, Felicia saluted, tossed her bag into the car, and slid behind the wheel with a smile. She stopped for a moment and looked at Kate. Both women smiled a long quiet smile full of love and understanding. Their ships had set sail. And they waved to each other as Felicia faded from sight.
Kate looked at her watch as she walked back inside the house. She had another two and a half hours before Tygue woke up for his next feeding. That would give her plenty of time to work on the book. She had already written thirty pages, but she hadn't wanted to admit it to Felicia. The book was her secret. And one day she smiled to herself at the thought one day ' she already knew.
Kate? Kate!
Kate jumped in surprise at the sound of her name, as she sat barefoot at her desk in an old shirt and a worn pair of jeans.
Hey, lady, is your hearing going too?
Licia! She was standing in the doorway, looking as trim and fashionable as ever in a wine colored suede suit You didn't tell me you were coming down!
I wanted to take a look at the Santa Barbara store, so I thought I'd surprise you. That's some outfit. Things getting as bad as that? Kate flushed in embarrassment and zipped up her fly.
Sorry. I was doing some work. I wasn't expecting guests.
How's it coming? Felicia hugged her and cast an eye at the typewriter.
Okay, I guess. It's hard to tell. She shrugged and followed Felicia into the living room. She hadn't seen her since Christmas, two months before, when Felicia had spent a week with them, spoiling Tygue rotten.
Don't be so hard on yourself. If you sold one, you can sell another one.
Tell my publisher that, Licia.
I'd be happy to. Care for a martini? Kate grinned but shook her head. Felicia never changed. Her outfits followed the fashion of the moment, the men in her life came and went, and once every few years she rented a slightly larger, more expensive apartment, but essentially she hadn't changed in years. It was reassuring. The martinis, the husky voice, the style, the loyalty, the solidity, the good legs, none of them changed a bit.
I don't know, Licia. I'm serious. The first book stank, even if it did get published. And they wouldn't even take the last one. I'm getting nervous.
Don't be. Three's a charm. And besides, your first one did not stink.' It sold very nicely, as I recall.
Bullshit. Kate looked glum.
Don't be so insecure. How many women your age have even written two books?
Hundreds probably. But Kate liked the reassurance; she had no one else to give it to her, no one to talk to, in fact. She was careful to avoid getting past the Hi, how are you? stage with anyone in town. She had Tygue, and Felicia, and her work, and her visits to Tom. And no room for anything else. I'm just beginning to wonder if I have what it takes to write a successful novel.
Maybe you don't want to. Felicia looked over her shoulder as she expertly poured her martini into a glass from the pitcher she kept in Kate's cupboard. Whenever Felicia arrived, it seemed to them both that she had just been there the day before. Kate loved that about their relationship. Maybe you just don't want the hassle of success. Wouldn't that force you into a lot of choices you don't want? It was a question Felicia had long wondered about.
What choices? Whether or not Tygue goes to college?
That's a benefit, love, not a choice. I'm talking about what would happen to you if your book was a smash. Could you go on living here? Would you expose yourself to publicity? Would you condescend to visit the big city' for interviews? Those, my love, are choices.
I'll deal with them when I have to.
May it be soon. Felicia toasted her with the martini, and Kate laughed.
You never give up.
Of course not. It had been three and a half years, and she still wanted Kate to come back. She admitted Tygue was thriving and happy, a beautiful child with healthy pink cheeks and his father's huge cornflower-blue eyes. He hadn't suffered yet from the cultural deprivation of the life his mother had chosen, but in time he would. That had been Felicia's latest tack, but it hadn't worked any better than the others. You are the stubbornest woman I know.
Thank you. Kate looked pleased.
Where's my godchild, by the way? I brought him a present.
If it weren't for you, Licia, the child wouldn't have a thing to play with. But thanks to you Kate grinned at her friend he has more than all the kids in town. The train got here last week.
Oh did it? Felicia tried to look innocent. Maybe he was a little young, but she'd felt he ought to have one. After all, living in this wasteland, the poor child needs something to amuse himself with. So where is he?
At nursery school.
Already? He's too young!
He started right after Christmas, and he loves it.
He'll get germs from the other kids. But Kate just laughed at Felicia as she finished her drink. It was a sunny Friday afternoon in late February, and in Kate's part of the world, it already felt like spring.
He should be home in half an hour. He goes from two to five, after his nap. Want to take a look at the new manuscript while you wait? Felicia nodded acquiescence with a slow happy smile. What are you staring at?
I was trying to remember if I looked that good at twenty-six. But I just remembered. I didn't.
That's because I live here, and not in some wretched city,
Bullshit. But maybe it was true. And in any case, Kate did look well. Even the visits to Tom didn't seem to weigh her down as they used to. Nothing had changed there, she had just adjusted.
Tom was still at Mead, and Mr. Erhard was still taking extraordinary care of him. Tom was still playing the same games, reading the same books, working out the same puzzles it was like an eternity of first grade. Now that Kate had Tygue to compare him with, Tom's stagnation was more noticeable, but he remained gentle and lovable. She still saw him twice a week. Tygue thought she went away to work. It was just something his mother did.
Kate looked at her watch as she handed Felicia the manuscript. She still had a little time before Tygue came home, and she was anxious to know what Felicia thought of the new book. Licia made some surprisingly perceptive comments about her work. It was almost twenty minutes later when Felicia lifted her head with a look of surprise.
How did you manage the sex scene?
What do you mean, how did I manage it?
You been having more fun down here than I credit you with? Felicia looked over with a sly smile, and Kate was annoyed.
Don't be ridiculous. I just wrote it, that's all. It's fiction.
Amazing. Felicia looked impressed, but there was mischief in her eyes.
Why? Is it lousy? She was worried.
No. Surprisingly good. I'm just surprised you can remember that far back. You know, with the wonderful, normal, healthy life you lead down here, all the men you see '
Felicia Norman, up yours. But she grinned as Felicia went back to the book. For a minute, she'd had her worried. Felicia was always bugging her about her sex life, or lack of it. Felicia might never have had a mad passion in her life, but there was always someone at hand to keep the juices flowing properly. Kate hadn't made love with a man in four years. She didn't even let herself think about it anymore. That wasn't part of her life. She put all her energies into Tygue, and the books. Maybe it even made the books better. Sometimes she wondered about that. The books were her lovers. And Tom and Tygue were her kids. It was an hour later when Felicia put down the manuscript with a serious look on her face. Kate trembled looking at her.
You hated it.
For a moment, Felicia only shook her head. No. I loved it. But kiddo, you're walking right into something you're refusing to look at.
What? A plot problem obviously. Dammit, and she'd been so careful.
Exactly what I warned you about success. Felicia's face remained grave, and Kate grinned.
You mean it?
I do. But do you mean it?
Oh, stop being such a worrier. I'll face it when I get there.
I hope so.
And then the conversation ended abruptly as the school bus arrived with Tygue. He came bounding into the house in blue jeans and a red flannel shirt, little cowhide cowboy boots, and a bright yellow parka. Aunt Licia! Aunt Licia! He bounced into her lap, cowboy boots and all, and Kate cringed at what would happen to the suede suit, but Felicia seemed to mind not at all.
Wait till you see what I brought you!
Another twain? His face lit up like a spotlight, and both women laughed.
Nope. Take a look. There's a big box in the car. Can you get it yourself?
Sure, Aunt Licia. He went thundering outside again, and Kate watched him go. He was growing so fast ' and then she caught a funny look on her friend's face.
Okay, you, warn me now what did you bring him? A live cobra? White mice? Tell me the truth.
Nothing like that, Kate. Really. But she could already hear the squeals from outside the house. Felicia had been nervous about it since she'd arrived. She'd even sneaked out to the car once with a saucer of water. But he had been asleep. He wasn't asleep now though, he was being passionately squeezed by Master Tygue.
It's weal!
Of course it's weal! Felicia grinned at the look on the boy's face, and for a minute Kate rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too. Is he yours, Aunt Licia? It was the droopiest sad-eyed basset hound puppy Kate had ever seen, and just looking at him made her want to laugh. Tygue put him on the floor, and the dog's legs seemed to slide out from under him. His ears fanned out and he looked mournfully up at the little boy and wagged his tail.
Do you like him, Tygue?
Tygue nodded ferociously and then sat down next to the little black and white dog. You're so lucky. I wish we had one too. I want one, Mommy.
You've got one, Tygue. Aunt Licia was on her knees next to her godchild, holding both the boy and the dog.
I got one too? Tygue looked confused.
This one's yours. Just for you. She kissed him softly on the top of his blond head.
For me?
For you.
Oh! Oh! It was all he could say for minutes, and then he threw himself on the dog with delight. What's his name?
That's up to you!
I'll have to ask Willie. Willie, the treasured teddy bear, had become his best friend. Tom still had his too, and it was hard to decide which one looked more loved and weather-beaten, Tygue's or his father's. Tygue bounded out of the room a minute later and Kate stooped down to pet the little dog.
Are you furious, Kate? Felicia looked only slightly remorseful.
How could I be, you nut? Just don't bring the kid a car next time you visit. Save that till he's six. The dog was irresistible though, and she lifted him happily into her lap. Tygue was back in a minute with Willie.
Willie says his name is Bert.
Then Bert it is.
Tygue squeezed him again, and Bert wagged his tail. The family was complete. And Felicia had even liked the beginning of her new book. Kate felt as though good things were in store. And Licia was crazy with that bullshit about success. Hell, if the publisher just accepted the book, that would be enough. It didn't have to be a best seller That only happened one time in a million, and she knew it wasn't for her. She could feel it. This was her life.
Going to teach today, Mom? Kate nodded and handed Tygue another piece of toast. I thought so. I can always tell. He looked pleased with himself, and Kate watched her son with a warm glow. Graceful and sturdy and thoughtful and bright, and so pretty, but in an appropriately boyish way. He looked a little less like Tom now. And he was nearly six.
How can you always tell when I'm going to teach? They had long since established a chatty rapport over breakfast, and on this beautiful spring day she was feeling playful. Tygue was the person she spoke to most. Now and then it made her respond to him on his own childlike level, but most of the time they found a mutually acceptable middle ground.
I can tell cause you wear gooder clothes.
I do, huh? She was grinning at him, and there was a fierce sparkle of mischief in his eyes, not so very different from her own. And the word is better,' by the way.
Yeah. And you wear that goopy stuff on your face.
What goopy stuff? She was laughing with a mouthful of toast.
You know the green stuff.
It's not green, it's blue. And it's called eye makeup.
Aunt Licia wears it too. As though that would make it okay.
Yeah, but she wears it all the time, and hers is brown. He grinned broadly at her. And you only wear yours to teach. How come you only wear it then?
Because you're not old enough to appreciate it hot stuff. But neither was Tom. Anymore. She just wore the eye makeup and the gooder clothes, as Tygue called them, because she felt she ought to, for visiting Tom at Mead. It seemed suitable. There she was Mrs. Harper. Here she was only Mom. And occasionally ma'am at the supermarket
She had long ago explained to Tygue that she taught writing at a school in Carmel for disturbed children. It allowed her to talk about Tom sometimes, or some of the others she saw. She had often told him stories of Tom, of his drawings, of Mr. Erhard the stories were dusted off just enough so that she could tell Tygue and feel some relief. Or sometimes when Tom had had a moment of great victory, done a wonderful drawing, learned a game, or completed a puzzle that had seemed so much beyond him sometimes then, she could share the triumphant feeling with Tygue, even if she shouldn't have. And by telling him that she taught at a school for disturbed children, she could also provide an excuse for going to her room and closing the door after a rough day. Tygue understood that. He felt sorry for the children she told him about And he thought she was a good person for going there. Sometimes she wondered if that was why she had told him that story' poor Mommy' good Mommy ' she drives all that way to work with retarded children. She shrugged off such thoughts. It was crazy to need strokes from a six-year-old child.