The Truth About Air & Water (Truth in Lies #2) (35 page)

It is suddenly down to the three of us—me, Tally, and Cara. There’s an awkward silence forming like smoke slowly builds up in a closed room, and you finally start to notice. For something to do, searching for some reason to remain here as the uninvited guest, I start picking up the party trash bags someone left behind in the kitchen and take them outside.

Taking out the trash. See? Look how useful I am, Miss Cloves and Vanilla.

I’m just coming through the back door when I hear Tally trying to convince Cara it’s a good time to take a bath.

“Only if Daddy stays.” Cara gets this defiant stance and crosses her little arms and looks expectantly at us both.

“If he wants to stay, that’s fine,” Tally says without looking at me.

“I’ll stay.”

There is only one girl squealing with true joy over that announcement, the other stands perfectly still and stays absolutely silent.

Giving Cara a bath is an experience. A wet one. She gets more water outside the tub than is in it. She plays all these games with these imaginary friends made from bubbles. Tally drops a colored tablet in the water, and it turns pink. Then later, she drops a blue tablet in which turns the bath water purple. Each tablet drop produces fresh fun for Cara. She squeals and splashes and laughs with every color change. This kid makes you believe in magic. She tells me in great detail all about the movie
Frozen
. “You should be Kristoff because he’s the guy, but how does that work?” She laughs. “Because he likes Ana. And Mommy is the queen, and so you’ll be the king, but neither of you will die,” Cara says thoughtfully. “Okay, Daddy?”

“Okay. I’ll be the king, and Mommy will be queen and neither of us will die.” I look up at Tally but she’s turned away from me.

We spend the rest of bath time talking about colors and reviewing her day and the birthday party while Tally stands to one side with her arms crossed with her mouth half-open looking utterly amazed.

“What?” I finally ask.

“She’s
talking
. It’s a…miracle really.” She laughs a little and then brushes at her face and quickly walks away muttering she forgot Cara’s pajamas.

A half-hour later, Cara is changed into her new Elsa nightie and crawling into her big-girl bed. I stroke her long dark hair as it fans out on her pillow. “Sleep well. Daddy has to go to Fresno for baseball. It’s a long way from here. But we’ll talk soon if it’s okay with Mommy. Don’t worry, Cara. I’m right here.” I touch her little chest and feel her heartbeat.

Cara nods. Slowly, her eyes close and within sixty seconds, she’s breathing evenly and appears to be asleep already. “Is she…okay?” I turn to Tally with alarm. “Does she always fall asleep this fast?”

“It’s like a switch with two modes—on and off. But let’s face it; she’s had quite a day.” She gets this slight smile and then heads for the open door.

I slowly follow her into the hallway and down the stairs.

Now what?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Paper Doll -LINC

Nervous, as we confront an unfamiliar scene for one of us—
me
— we take to the opposing leather chairs and sit directly across from each other like we’re conducting an interview.
Maybe we are.

She gets this anxious face again but refuses to say why when I ask. “She really wasn’t talking before this?” I’m amazed at all our little girl has said to me today.

“Not really. We worked out this sign language thing, and she would use the word, ‘
Mommy
,’ every once in a while. ‘
Daddy’
when she wanted to know about where you were.” She sighs. “We’ve been going to the counseling sessions. She—the counselor—couldn’t figure it out either, but she did say Cara would talk when she was ready. I guess she was ready…after she saw you. Thank you.” Tally shakes her head and goes silent.

Then she moves to undo her hair which she’s worn up since I arrived running her fingers through it all the way to ends. I push myself back further in the chair and hold my breath and just watch. She gets self-conscious and colors a bit under my unintended scrutiny, and eventually stops.

“She’s incredible,” I say as an opening line.

Cara is our safe topic. Our safe word.
I secretly smile at that thought and Tally responds with a smile of her own.
If she only knew what I was thinking about.

“She is.”

“Look, I don’t want to make things more difficult with you and Sam.”

I’m such a nice guy and apparently out to convince her of this on all levels. Why don’t I just serve Miss Cloves and Vanilla up on a silver spun mattress for Sam’s personal pleasure? Stop trying so hard, bro.

“You’re not,” she says softly.

“Okay. Then.” She flinches again. “What’s up with you and those two little words? You did that before,” I say.

“Sam says
okay then
. Like
all the time
. You’re freaking me out.”

“Sam
owns
the words
okay
and
then
?”

“Kind of.” She smiles ever so slightly.

“Well, shit I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You swear a lot more now,” she says softly.

“I do? I’m sorry. I don’t know why I swear so much. I guess I’m pissed off. About many things.”

“I like it. I swear a lot more now too. Out of earshot of the little one most of the time of course, but I wouldn’t be surprised if
fuck
isn’t her favorite word some day.”

“Fuck is everyone’s favorite word.”

“You think so.
Everyone’s
?" She teases.

“It’s mine.”

“It’s mine too, Elvis.”

So. Where do we go from here, Tally Landon,
Miss Cloves and Vanilla
?”

“The card with the flowers,” she says. “
Miss Cloves and Vanilla
. So. You nicknamed me. Why? And how did you come up with that title?”

“You already took Elvis.” I shrug. “
Miss Cloves and Vanilla
is how I remember you from the hospital. It’s stayed with me. The memory of you and how you smelled that night like cloves and vanilla stays with me. It’s my favorite scent now. You ruined me.”

“My smell stays with you? I
ruined you
…for what?”

“Your smell keeps me going all the time. I’m in a clutch game or at practice and it’s full count? Your cloves and vanilla scent calms me down. I spray it on the front of my uniform and rub my right hand across like this.” I demonstrate by rubbing my chest and she watches me in fascination like a starstruck teenager watches a rock star play his bass guitar. “I went to three different stores before I found the exact scent. Expensive. French perfume.
Chamade
by Guerlain.”

She nods looking fascinated or charmed by me at least for a few seconds. “I got it in Paris when I was there a few years ago. I love it.”

“I do too. So yes, you
ruined
me. For anyone else.”

She’s smiling but then it slowly disappears like a countdown does as it goes from ten to zero. “What are you doing to me, Elvis?” She asks, looking troubled.

“I’m not trying to
do
anything to you. I’m sitting on your sofa and talking to you like it’s a first date or something.”

“I don’t date. I don’t think we ever dated. Not really,” she says, twisting her hair.

“That’s too bad. I’m a good dater. At least, I think I was.
Dater.
Is that even a word? Dinner, a movie, ice cream. I would do it all with you.”

“Disneyland, pancakes, bubble baths?” She asks playfully.

“As to imply an
overnight date
of some kind at Disneyland complete with bubble baths at night and pancakes in the morning? We can do that too, but only on our third or fourth date. First base. Second base. Third base. Home. I’ve always been partial to baseball in all aspects of my life.” I laugh and at last so does she.

But then, she stops and looks uncertain again. “What are you doing to me, Elvis?” She asks again slower this time.

“I’m not sure.” I hesitate. “
How
am I doing?” I reach in my back pocket and pull out my wallet and take out the note. It’s a dry cleaners receipt from almost five years ago. She’d written: “
Thank you, Elvis
” on the back of it in this fine script handwriting. “Can you tell me
why
you wrote this note to me and what you were
thanking
me for? It’s your handwriting. You wrote it; I checked your message board in the kitchen earlier. What you were thanking me for?”

She takes the note from me and stares at it for a long time.

“Such a sleuth,” she finally says with a resigned sigh and gets this solemn expression.

Our friendly banter is now over.

“I was in a dark place. My sister had just died in a car accident on Valentine’s Day. Marla wanted me to go to Charlie’s party Memorial Day weekend. He invited her. Two years of heartbreak over that guy and she comes running as soon as he called. Anyway, of course, I didn’t want to go, but I was her wingman so I was there, drinking the punch, intent on getting thoroughly wasted, and somewhat desperate to feel something with somebody again. My goal was to get lost, lose my tragic story, and be someone else for the night. And you were there. We hit it off—you and I. We danced. And let’s face it; I am a hot young thing on the dance floor. You were definitely my conquest for the evening. I had you at hello.” She laughs at her clever movie reference.