Ex’s and Oh’s Page 9

  Before she talked herself out of it, she reached for her keys.

  Shane’s was one of the few boats in its slip this evening. He sat on deck, his head bowed as he worked on something in a large plastic case on his lap. The setting sun was a ball of orange beyond him, tingeing the sky pink and lavender, fading to gray.

  The cork soles of Caroline’s sandals muffled her approach on the wooden pier, and yet something must have alerted him to her presence. He looked up and didn’t look away.

  “Where did you get the letter?” she asked, stopping where his boat was fastened to the pier.

  “Beneath a loose floorboard in the lighthouse cottage.”

  “When?”

  “Twenty-five minutes before your little don’t speech.”

  Despite the fact that she deserved that, she cringed. “I owe you an apology.”

  “You don’t owe me anything.”

  He wasn’t going to make this easy for her. Ironically, it put her on more even footing. “You trimmed your beard, showed up unannounced, and I jumped to conclusions,” she said.

  There was something deliberate about the way he closed the tackle box and placed it at his feet, something just as deliberate in the way he smoothed a hand over his short beard. “What conclusions?”

  He seemed to take perverse satisfaction in making her say it. Fine. “You surprised me when you kissed me.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Why did you?” she asked.

  “You insinuated you felt old.”

  “Then it was a pity kiss?” How lovely.

  Waves pressed against the cement pilings of the pier, splashing on the boat’s hull, only to be dragged slowly, rhythmically away again. All around them boats were starting to come in.

  “What difference does it make?” he asked. “I’m not your type, remember?”

  “I didn’t say you’re not my type. I said I’m not yours. There’s a big difference. I’m not good at relationships. In fact, I can count my friends on one hand. I’m figuring this out as I go, but this is my flaw, not yours.”

  “What kind of flaw?”

  “It would take all night to explain.”

  She caught him looking at her mouth. “Would you care to come aboard, Caroline?”

  She shook her head, thinking she should have expected that. Covering a yawn, she said, “All I seem to want to do lately is sleep.”

  “I was only suggesting you come aboard to talk. Andy’s below deck.”

  Ah, yes, Andy. Shane’s and Tori’s troubled son.

  “Normally he stays at his mother’s during the week, but I think he took pity on me after riding my butt into the ground tonight. It’s hell getting old. For the record, that wasn’t a pity kiss. I talked. You listened. You talked. I kissed you. That’s just the way it happened to work out.”

  And men claimed women were illogical.

  Shane wasn’t like the men she’d known in Chicago. There was a vein of the uncivilized in him. Something about him brought out the worst in her, and the best.

  She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but there seemed to be an understanding, a kind of camaraderie between them. It was almost as if they were becoming friends. It began with Karl, and spread in ways she couldn’t explain even to herself. Shane didn’t seem to think she was bad at relationships. Or perhaps he just didn’t think it was so unusual to be bad at them. Why on earth that made her feel better, she didn’t know. But as she walked away, she was fairly certain she’d set something right by coming here. She just wasn’t altogether sure what, exactly.

  By the time Tori unlocked the door of the third vacant office space, she and Caroline were both wilting. Switching on lights as she went, Tori said, “They need to keep the air-conditioning on if they want to lease these spaces. What do you think? Can you imagine yourself seeing clients here, providing it isn’t a hundred and ten stifling degrees?”

  Caroline took some time to consider that. The first two offices had been renovated twenty years ago, this one within the past five. The drop ceilings were probably good for acoustics, as was the commercial-grade carpeting beneath her feet. She supposed she could have set up an office here, but the space could have housed an insurance office or a Baby Gap just as easily. “It seems awfully generic,” Caroline said.

  “I thought you’d say that.”

  The last door Tori opened led to a narrow back alley paved in old bricks. The buildings lining the alley were covered in vines stirring on a marvelous breeze. Tori and Caroline were silent for a moment, appreciating the relief from the oppressive heat.

  “That must have special meaning,” Tori said.

  Caroline hadn’t realized she was tracing the edges of her charm. “It was my mother’s.”

  “What is it?” Tori asked, taking it between her thumb and index finger.

  “It’s whatever you want it to be. My mother found it in the dirt on a narrow little street in Seville on her honeymoon. It’s a dollop of pewter she thought looked like an abstract heart. My father had it made into a charm for her. My grandfather said she never took it off. I’ve always wondered why she wasn’t wearing it when the plane crashed.”

  “You said she died when you were small?”

  She nodded. “I found it in the bottom of a large box my grandfather brought to my room my first summer with him.”

  The bangles on Tori’s wrists jangled slightly as she released the charm. Inhaling something sweet on the warm air, Caroline spied a honeysuckle vine growing up the side of the building. The pale yellow flowers were a perfect match for the blond streaks in Tori’s hair, and the scent was synonymous with her bold sweetness. On that day when Caroline’s grandfather had placed the box of her parents’ things on her bed, it had been raining outside, and the air had been heavy with the scent of rain-drenched wild roses on the trellis outside her bedroom window. Until this moment, Caroline hadn’t realized she associated scents with particular events and experiences in her life.

  “It must have been hard on your grandfather, losing his daughter that way, and suddenly finding himself parenting again. What did he say?”

  “He didn’t say anything. He removed his glasses, took an old-fashioned handkerchief from his pocket and dried his eyes.”

  Caroline remembered it so clearly. For the first eight years of her life, she’d been a carefree little girl who took for granted that she was the center of the universe. Her parents had been young. Her grandfather was old. She recalled making the distinction. She’d loved him with her whole heart, and she was so thankful to have him, to have somebody. Watching him dry his eyes that day, she’d vowed to cause him as little worry and grief as possible.

  “Subconsciously I think I’ve been looking for a man like my grandfather ever since.”

  “At least we won’t be competing for the same guys. You can hold out for the saints and I’ll take the sinners.”

  Caroline never knew what Tori was going to say. “You like sinners?”

  “Not abusers or criminals or creepy guys, but I prefer guys who are at least as bad as I am.”

  While Caroline was wondering about that, Tori led the way back through the building. After making sure everything was locked up tight, she said, “What else was in the box that day?”

  They fell into step, starting toward the realty office a few blocks away. “My father’s watch and some framed pictures and photo albums. My father was an amateur photographer, and my mom and I were his favorite subjects. Every time I looked at them that summer, I cried and cried. The hardest part was coming to the end where there were pages left unfilled. A psychiatrist would probably say I began compartmentalizing my life the day I put them away. Lately, I’ve been allowing myself to imagine how different my life might have been if my parents’ plane hadn’t crashed.” Caroline placed a hand over her little paunch. “I want more for my child. Someday, when my baby is old enough, I’ll tell him or her all the stories that make up our family history.”

  “Do it before he’s fifteen. Or
it’ll be too late.”

  They reached the realty office in silence. Before Tori went inside and Caroline unlocked her car, she said, “Does Andy know how often you think of him, how much you love him?”

  Tori looked straight ahead.

  “Don’t give up on him, Tori. I have to believe that when it comes to our children, it’s never too late.”

  Andy’s back was to Tori, but she could tell from the tenseness in his shoulders that he’d heard her. He pretended to look out the window. He got a bag of chips out of the pantry. He reset the clock on the microwave. That thing was always off.

  Eventually he ran out of diversions, but he still didn’t look at her.

  “Come on, Andy. Where would you like to go. Europe? Spain? How about Vegas?”

  “Yeah, right, Mom.”

  She was trying to entice him to take a vacation with her. Most kids would jump at the chance to go to Vegas, and Europe; oh, she would have been dancing around the room at the prospect. “It’s summer. Your dad would give you the time off.”

  He was shaking his head before he’d given it any thought.

  Accepting that, she tried a different tack. “It seems like we never see each other anymore.”

  “I’m here all the time.”

  In your room, she wanted to say. In your own sad silent world.

  “You’re dressed up. You going out?”

  He still wasn’t looking at her, which made the observation all the more telling. “I don’t have to. We could go somewhere. Are you hungry? Or we could take in a movie. I know guys your age don’t want to be seen with their mothers. We could go to Traverse City where nobody would know us.”

  “It’s Friday night,” he said. “I’m riding my bike to Dad’s.”

  “I could drop you off there later. Hey, we could invite one of your classmates to go with us.”

  She knew she’d said the wrong thing the minute it left her lips. Andy drew himself up to his full height, and yet he seemed to retreat before her eyes. Taking a water bottle from the refrigerator, he mumbled a goodbye of sorts.

  She knew he was mad. But he never raised his voice. Most of the time she had to go in search of him to see if he was even home. The only sign that he was gone now was the quiet click the door made as it closed.

  When it comes to our children, we can’t give up.

  Yeah, right, Tori thought. Caroline had meant well, but she didn’t know shit about Andy’s problems. Nobody knew how deep this rift went. Except Tori and Andy.

  She wandered aimlessly through her house. She didn’t know how Andy stood the silence. She hated it. She always had. She needed people, noise, action, excitement, anything but silence. Pattie would be busy with Dave and the kids, but Tori considered calling Nell or Elaine or Caroline.

  Her reflection in the mirror across the living room startled her. Damn, she looked good. Sometimes she forgot just how good.

  Wetting her lips, she smiled demurely at her image, imagining that some attractive man was smiling back. The girls were great. They were fantastic. If she needed a shoulder to cry on, an ear to bend, or unconditional acceptance, she would call them. But she needed something they couldn’t give her. She needed to see that first spark of interest in a man’s eyes, needed to feel strong arms around her, and to know someone thought she was beautiful, even if she knew the truth.

  She forced the need down for now. But she knew it was only a matter of time.

  CHAPTER 9

  Caroline was becoming accustomed to the scent of disinfectant and stale breath that permeated the manor, as the staff and residents call it. It hadn’t made her queasy in a week. Other than a brief episode of morning sickness every day upon arising, she felt wonderful. It was Tuesday. She hadn’t heard from Tori since Friday when they’d looked at those vacant office spaces. Caroline wanted to talk to her, but so far, their only communication had been through voice mail.

  Caroline took long walks every day. She read voraciously and indulged in an occasional nap. And every day she visited Karl.

  She’d found that if she arrived in the morning, he was more alert. True to form today, he was awake when she entered his room. As he had each day this past week, he waited to smile until after he introduced himself.

  She accepted the handshake. Inside, she felt a pang of disappointment because he didn’t know they were family. Still, she arrived every morning at ten, and every morning she asked, “Shall we find some sunshine, Karl?”

  As always, he gave the invitation some thought before accepting, and after a shaky rise to his feet, he began the long walk, steadying himself with his cane. Many of the other men wore knit pants with elastic waists. Most shuffled through their days in their bedroom slippers. Karl dressed every day in old but freshly laundered slacks and pressed, buttoned shirts. His shoes and belt were old leather, his hair sparse and white, his hands age-spotted. He was a nice-looking old gentleman, and undoubtedly had been a handsome devil in his youth. Caroline hadn’t planned to feel such tender affection for him.

  He always tired halfway into his walk to the courtyard. With quiet dignity, he accepted a ride in the wheelchair she pushed. She spoke to several residents and staff along the way, but Karl said nothing until he reached their destination, and then only after she spread the quilt on the ground near his chair in the dappled shade of a flowering crab-apple tree.

  “Tea, Karl?” she asked, taking a Thermos and two teacups from her woven bag.

  “Only if it’s Earl Grey.”

  The brew steamed as she poured. And every morning as she watched him take that first sip, she felt a sense of wonder, for Earl Grey had been her grandfather’s favorite tea, too. Her other grandfather’s. She wondered if Henry had thought of Karl often through the years, and vice versa. Had Karl known that Anna died young? Caroline had so many questions. She’d tried asking a few of them a few days ago, but they’d only confused and frustrated Karl. She hadn’t brought them up again.

  “Are you my new secretary?” His voice was raspy and his finger shook slightly as he pointed at the legal pad she’d been using to take notes of his stories.

  “Actually, I was an attorney in Chicago for twelve years. I’m thinking about opening a law office here in Harbor Woods.”

  “You’ll want to look into reciprocity between Michigan and Illinois. I imagine there’s an exorbitant fee, but it would be more efficient to waive into the Michigan State Bar than to take the exam again.”

  Caroline stared at the old man. Reciprocity was a term used by attorneys. “How did you know that?”

  He looked at her blankly. “How did I know what?”

  “How did you know about reciprocity between states?”

  “Rep what?”

  She was adjusting to the way Karl’s mind worked. He could recall in vivid detail events that had happened ten, fifty, even seventy-five years ago, but couldn’t recall something he’d told her moments earlier. One of the kindly aides compared an aging mind to the intricate workings of a clock whose gears slipped. “Sometimes,” the other woman had said, “everything lines up, and the clock strikes the proper hour, but most of the time you get something else entirely. There’s a delicate beauty in the rhythm of it, if you look for it.”

  Caroline was learning to look for it.

  She was also learning to take each day as it came. She enjoyed her morning visits with Karl. The residents whose rooms overlooked the courtyard kept bird feeders outside their windows. Flowers bloomed everywhere. Hummingbirds and finches and butterflies made the gardens home. Sitting in the sunshine on this warm July morning, Caroline was discovering a new way to understand, a new way to get to know a kindly, gentlemanly old soul.

  “There’s Shane,” Karl said.

  He was full of surprises today, but he was right. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Shane talking to a nurse on the other side of the courtyard.

  “Do you know him?” Caroline asked, curious.

  Karl sipped his tea thoughtfully. “I used to hear his parents yel
ling from my house. Sometimes they screamed at each other, sometimes at Shane. That boy was always into something. Once I went out to get an onion and fresh tomato from my garden, only to discover they’d all been pulled. All the carrots, too. Everything was laying on top of the ground, ruined. I knew right away who’d done it. He couldn’t have been more than five or six years old, but Shane admitted to it right away. I didn’t know what to do with him. It was either take him over my knee or take him fishing. Ever since then, fishing’s all he wants to do. Haven’t known a moment’s peace since, but at least my garden thrives.”

  Caroline laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “Everything.” Looking into Karl’s watery blue eyes, she sobered. “Life, I suppose.”

  Caroline was a little surprised to see Shane waiting for her when she left the manor. He’d dropped in to say hello to Karl, but hadn’t stayed. She’d thought he’d left the nursing home twenty minutes ago.

  It wasn’t even noon yet, and already the sun was so hot the asphalt parking lot felt soft beneath the soles of her shoes. The local meteorologist was calling it the first heat wave of the summer, and was predicting that it would last through the upcoming holiday weekend. The weather was big news here.

  Shane was opening his car door when she reached her vehicle, which was parked next to his. This was the first time they’d spoken since she’d gone to the marina last week.

  “I’m curious about something,” she said. “I noticed books on Karl’s bedside table. Does he like to read?”

  Shane looked at her over the roof of his car. “No.”

  “But he used to?”

  “Yes.”

  Sometimes talking to Shane felt like conducting a cross-examination. Despite that fact, understanding dawned. “So now you read to him,” she said quietly.

  He shrugged, something he often did when she came to close to something personal.

  “What are you reading to him now?”

  “The Old Man And The Sea is one of his favorites.”

  “He likes Hemingway?” she asked.