Someone Like You (13 page)

“Does he live here all alone?” she asked.

“Yes. He has no family. I think it's sad that he only has energy to be angry about the fence.”

“Have you asked him to dinner?”

Juan stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“If your mother-in-law's cooking is as good as you say and Mr. Harrison is alone and lonely, a family meal might go a long way to helping with negotiations.”

She could see Juan weighing her suggestion. She was sure his neighbor had made his life hell and that Juan didn't want the crotchety old man in his house, but if it helped…

“I'll talk to my wife,” Juan said. “Who
are
you?”

Jill winced. “Please don't take this personally, but I'm Jill Strathern, Mr. Harrison's attorney.”

Juan took a step back as his expression hardened. “Are you trying to trick me?”

“Not at all. I just hate to see the two of you at odds over the fence. If you could be friends instead of enemies, neither of you would need me.”

“She's very nice,” Emily said loyally.

Juan smiled at her. “Thank you for telling me. Then it must be true.” He looked at Jill. “I'll talk to my wife,”
he repeated, then hesitated. “If there's no lawsuit, then there's no money for you.”

“In this case, I would be delighted to be fired.”

 

“A
RE YOU SURE ABOUT THIS
?” Jill asked as Emily continued to roll curlers into her hair.

“Uh-huh. I saw it on TV.”

“But I already have curly hair. I'm not sure curlers…”

Emily walked around in front of the chair and raised her eyebrows. “I'm in charge,” she said with a certainty that, under other circumstances, would have made Jill laugh.

“Yes, ma'am.”

Emily returned to her task, first brushing out a strand of hair, then rolling it in the curler. Jill was grateful that the humidity was low and her hair had stayed straight. If it frizzed, she might have to cut the curlers out.

“I like your hair,” Emily said, her small hands tickling as she brushed against Jill's neck. “It's pretty and long. My mommy's hair is short.”

“Like yours?” Jill asked.

“Sort of. Hers is darker.”

The curse of getting older, or so Gracie complained. Natural blond hair got darker. Jill's had stayed pretty much the same brown color, which was probably the curse of being boring.

Emily tugged as she rolled up another strand and Jill tried not to wince. “We have pie to eat,” she said by way of a bribe.

“Can we eat it during the movie?”

“Sure,” Jill said in defeat, as they'd already arranged to watch the movie
after
playing beauty salon. She figured she might as well resign herself to a serious trim later in the week and relax.

“Dinner was good,” Emily said. “I liked my hamburger.”

“Yeah, those folks down at Treats 'n Eats know how to make a good burger.” She wondered about stating the obvious, then decided to go for it. “You didn't seem to mind that your food didn't match your clothes. Does that mean you're not doing that anymore?”

Emily's hands stilled. A curler fell to the floor.

Jill turned and saw the little girl staring at her with big eyes. “Emily?”

“Sometimes I still want my food to match.”

Not hard to figure out when. “With your dad?” Emily nodded.

Jill sensed they were treading in dangerous territory. Should she let it go? But something inside of her told her it might help Emily to talk.

“Are you angry with your dad?” she asked quietly.

Emily sucked in a breath and tucked her hands behind her back. Then she slowly nodded.

Jill shifted in the chair so she could draw the child close and put her arms around her.

“It's okay to be mad,” she said, hoping it was. But if adults couldn't control their feelings, was it reasonable to expect an eight-year-old to? “Is this about something he's doing now or before?”

“Before.”

Jill drew Emily onto her lap and brushed her hair
off her forehead. “Want to talk about what happened or not?”

Emily shrugged. “Daddy was a cop before. He kept good people safe from bad people. But after a while he was quiet. He would sit in the living room and he wouldn't talk or play. Sometimes I'd go look at him be cause I was scared he'd disappear. You know, like a ghost.”

“I can see how that would scare you,” Jill said. “But he didn't become a ghost.”

“I know. But Mommy got mad and she would yell and he would yell back and Elvis and I hid in the closet, but it was dark and we didn't like that, either.”

Jill ached for the little girl with nowhere to go. “Their fighting wasn't about you,” she said. “You didn't make them mad at each other.”

Emily didn't look convinced. “One day Mommy and me went away. I waited and waited for Daddy to come that night, but he didn't. Mommy said he couldn't for a while. I didn't know if he was lost. I used to pray every night. And I wrote him letters.”

Tears filled her blue eyes. Her lower lip quivered. “After a long time Mommy said he was coming to see me. That I got to spend the whole weekend with him and it would really be fun. But he didn't come.”

The tears spilled onto her cheeks. Jill pulled her close and rocked back and forth.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, knowing that while Mac might have gone through a tough time, there was nothing, save death or serious injury, that excused disappointing his daughter.

“He didn't come the next time, either, and I stopped asking when he would see me. And then Mommy said I had to spend the summer here.”

Jill felt more out of her depth than she'd ever been in her life.

“Did you and your dad ever talk about this?” she asked, wanting to help, but not sure how.

“Yeah.” Emily sniffed. “He said he was sorry and that he'd never do it again.”

“But you don't believe him.”

Emily didn't answer.

Jill wondered if there could be anything worse than wanting to trust a parent and not being able to.

What could have happened to keep Mac from Emily? She'd seen them together and knew how much he loved his daughter. Nothing about this made sense.

“Are you having a good time here?” she asked.

“With you and Bev.”

“With your dad?”

Emily shrugged.

Jill wished she had a psychology expert on call to help with this.

“When you're mad at your dad, do you feel funny in side?” she asked. “Sort of bad?”

Emily looked at her and nodded several times.

Guilt, Jill thought. It strikes at any age. “Do you think your dad loves you?”

Mac stood just inside the kitchen and held his breath. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but neither Emily nor Jill had heard him knock. Now he stood
frozen in place, un able to move and desperate to hear his daughter say yes.

But there was only silence.

Inside he ached with the pain of what he'd lost. What he could only blame himself for and how much it had cost Emily. There was no excuse. There couldn't be.

If he could go back, he would change everything. Not an option, he reminded himself as he continued to wait.

“Maybe,” came the whispered response.

“Maybe, huh?” Jill said. “I happen to know he loves you a lot. He told me and you know it's wrong to lie to lawyers.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. So he had to be telling the truth.”

Something hit the floor.

“I think that was one of my curlers,” Jill said.

“We need to finish.”

He heard a thump, as if Emily had jumped to the floor. Mac backed out of the kitchen and went home to wait a few minutes before claiming Emily. He needed to figure out how to handle what he'd heard.

How did he explain to an eight-year-old child that he'd been in such hell, it had hurt to keep breathing? That nothing had mattered, except her, only he hadn't known how to show that? How did he explain screwing up and hurting her? How did he make it right?

He had loved Emily from the moment he'd found out Carly was pregnant. Most men wanted a son, but he'd been delighted by his perfect daughter. He'd shared
responsibilities, changing his shift to be home while Carly worked. Emily had been everything.

He'd lost her because he hadn't been able to face what he'd become. And in losing her, he'd destroyed the love they shared.

He would get it back, he vowed. He would prove himself to her. If only he knew how.

J
ILL FOLLOWED
the human resources director down the carpeted hallway and did her best not to do a little happy dance right there between the kitchen and the supply room. The Century City law offices weren't just beautiful, they were blissfully
familiar.
Even the smell was just right—a combination of leather, wood and musty paper with a hint of carpet freshener thrown in for good measure.

She liked everything about the location—the floor-to-ceiling windows, the graduated sizes of offices which clearly spelled out authority, the amazing law library, even the little man who'd gruffly directed her to visitor parking in the cavernous underground lot beneath the building. She liked how everyone wore suits and was busy doing things and that there wasn't a fish in sight. She didn't even mind that just like in San Francisco, she was sitting in the middle of active earthquake faults and that, should a decent-size tremor occur, the building was going to sway like a theme-park ride.

Jill shifted her Tumi briefcase, the one she'd bought herself on her last promotion, to her left hand and squared her shoulders as her escort paused in front of a large, carved double door.

“First names,” the woman told her with a smile, “but Donald, never Don or Donnie.”

“Thanks.”

The HR director shook her head. “I'm the one who's grateful. You have an incredible résumé and you pre sent yourself so well. We would be delighted to have you join us.”

“Thank you.” She put her hand on the door and pushed it open, then stepped into the privileged office of the senior partner.

The open office had been paneled in rich wood. The Oriental carpet underfoot had probably been handmade nearly a century before. Jill knew all about the dangers of navigating old rugs in high heels, so she kept much of her weight on her toes.

She crossed to the massive desk where Donald Ericsson rose and offered his hand.

He was a few inches taller than her, late fifties, with graying hair and thin features. He looked pleasant enough but there was plenty of steel in his gaze.

“I'm glad you came down on such short notice, Jill,” he said. “Everyone has been very impressed with you.”

“I've enjoyed meeting the team,” she told him sincerely. Back-to-back interviews with
eight
employees had only exhilarated her. She could see herself working here, fitting in, climbing the law ladder. She had this fantasy—okay, it was completely crazy, but one day—maybe—she would like to be a judge. L.A. had about four billion or so, so there was definitely room for one more.

“Let's get comfortable,” Donald said, motioning to a grouping of leather furniture in the corner of his office. “Would you like coffee?”

“No, thanks,” she said as she walked across the rug. “I'm on cup twelve or so. If I had any more caffeine in my system, you could use me as an energy source.”

He chuckled and waited until she was seated before lowering himself into a club chair. “What do you think of our law firm?” he asked.

“I'm so impressed, especially with the level of commitment you have from your associates and partners, especially in terms of satisfying your multinational clients. I worked with several Japanese companies when I was in San Francisco.”

“I read that, and to be honest, Jill, that's what attracted us to you. We need more expertise in that area.”

As he spoke, she nodded to show she was listening, but as her head bobbed, she caught sight of something shiny out of the corner of her eye. What on earth?

Carefully, slowly, she shifted in her seat and glanced to her right.

Oh…my…God.

No way. She returned her attention to Donald, but it was impossible to focus. This was
not
happening.

He chuckled. “You noticed her. Isn't she a beauty?”

“Yes. Amazing.”

“She is. I harpooned her myself off the coast of Mexico about fifteen years ago. Bet you haven't seen any thing like her before.”

Jill didn't know what to say. The stuffed swordfish hung in a place of honor, right above the door. As for not seeing one like that before, she would be willing to swear that the one in her office was the twin or at least a sibling.

“Do you fish a lot?” she asked.

He grinned. “It's more of a passion with me. Some partners prefer to conduct business on a golf course. Give me a powerful boat, a couple of tanks of diesel and I say, let's take on the world.”

“Sounds exciting,” she said, trying not to giggle. Imagine coming so far only to find herself in a very up scale version of Dixon and Son.

 

E
MILY CURLED UP
in the kitchen chair, her knees pulled to her chest, Elvis on the table by her shoulder. Her dad chopped tomatoes for the salad and dumped them into the bowl.

Watching him was different than watching her mom, she thought. Mom made cooking look easy and fun. She talked and laughed a lot, letting Emily help. But her dad always scowled and seemed to work really hard at making everything come out. Everyone always talked about how great boys were and a lot of people said they were better and smarter than girls, but Emily didn't think so. There was a lot of stuff boys couldn't do at all.

“I'm not working on Saturday,” he said, when he'd finished with the last tomato and reached for a red pep per. “I thought we could go sailing together.”

She'd been about to point out that her shirt was more
orange than red, but the thought flew right out of her head. They'd seen boats today, when she and Bev had been at the beach. Boats with big, white sails racing across the water.

“On the ocean?” she asked, too excited to pretend it didn't matter.

He glanced at her over his shoulder and grinned. “I'm not sure we could get a whole sailboat in a pool, so we're pretty much left with the ocean.”

“You know how?”

“I've captained a boat or two in my time. A lady named Wilma at my work owns a sailboat and she said we could borrow it. Sound like fun?”

“Yeah.” She glanced at her pet rhino. “I guess Elvis shouldn't come. He could fall overboard and get lost.”

“Good point. Even the small life vest would be too big for him.”

She squirmed in her seat, thinking about how much fun sailing would be. “Can I make the boat go?”

“Sure.” He finished with the pepper, then carried the salad to the table.

Emily had already set it, carefully putting out plates and napkins and forks. She and her dad each had a glass for milk.

He crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out the chicken dish Bev had given him earlier. It was wrapped in plastic and ready for the microwave. Emily noticed the red sauce that had been poured over the whole thing.

Looking at the sauce made her feel kind of bad.
At Bev's or when they went out, she ate whatever she wanted, but when she was with her dad, she still made sure her food matched her clothes. She didn't think Bev had told him, but she wasn't sure. Would he be mad if he found out? Would he tell her mom?

Emily didn't like thinking about that. She didn't like feeling funny inside. Maybe she should say something to him. Maybe…

“I like being in Los Lobos,” he said unexpectedly. “I like my new job. It's different from what I did before.”

“You mean because you were a cop and now you're a sheriff?”

He punched numbers into the microwave and pushed the start button, then turned to face her.

“That's some of it. Where I worked before was different. There were more bad people. I didn't like dealing with them. Do you remember how I worked a lot of hours?”

She remembered him being gone. She remembered him and her mom fighting about all the times he wasn't home. She nodded slowly.

“You were tired a lot. Mommy used to say we had to be quiet so you could rest.”

He leaned against the counter. “Something bad happened at my work, Em. A man I worked with died.”

She stared at him. No one had told her. She thought about his friends—the ones he'd brought home. The one she hadn't seen in a long time. “Uncle Mark?”

He closed his eyes briefly. “Yeah.”

“Oh.”

She didn't know what to say. She'd met Uncle Mark a few times and he'd always been nice to her. He was dead now, but she didn't really know what dead meant. Gone. Not coming back. Was there more than that?

“Were you sad?” she asked.

“For a long time. I couldn't stop thinking about what happened—how he'd died. I'd been there.”

Emily shivered. She didn't want to see anyone die. It sounded too scary.

He folded his arms across his chest. “Deep inside, a part of me got real quiet. Like being asleep. I knew that if I woke that part up, I would think about Mark being gone and I'd get sad and I didn't want to. So I let it stay sleeping. But by letting that one piece be asleep, I couldn't really see what was happening around me. That's when you and Mom left.”

Emily leaned back in the chair. She didn't want to talk about this. She didn't like the way she felt icky in side.

“It's okay,” she mumbled.

“No, it's not. I'm sorry, Em. When I realized what had happened, that you were gone, I wanted to bring you back. But that sleeping part of me made it hard.”

Her eyes burned and she bit hard on her lower lip. She didn't want him to say he was sorry. She wanted him to tell her how much he loved her. How he wanted to be with her every day.

“I'm all awake now,” he said. “I'm glad we're together. I want things to be different.”

She shook her head, not sure how to tell him they couldn't
ever
be different. Not if he hadn't missed her
more than anything. Not if he didn't tell her how much he loved her.

She hurt inside, like a big hole had opened up in her chest. She felt scared and small.

“I want things like they were,” she said before she could stop herself. She stood and glared at him. “I wish I could be with Mommy instead of you.” Mommy, who told her how important she was all the time.

Her dad didn't say anything. She watched his face change and knew she'd hurt him real bad. So bad she got even more scared, and the hole inside of her threatened to swallow her up. She started to cry and, rather than let him know, she ran out of the room.

Her heart ached so much, because whatever she might have said, she knew that while she did want to be with her mom, she liked being with her dad, too. But he didn't know that anymore. And maybe now he was going to send her away.

 

J
ILL ARRIVED BACK
in Los Lobos around ten. After her interview, she'd treated herself to an afternoon of shop ping and then a nice dinner before driving north. While the BMW might not have been her idea of how to spend sixty-five thousand dollars, she had to admit it was a pretty fabulous road car. Cruise control was the only thing that kept her from zipping along at ninety.

Despite her bad parking in the Century City parking garage, the enchanted vehicle was still scratch-, ding-and dent-free.

“Talk about a miracle,” she said as she turned onto her street and pulled up in front of the house.

As she parked, she noticed a shadow on the front porch. The shadow stirred and rose, becoming a man she instantly recognized. Talk about an adrenaline rush, she thought, as she stepped out into the night and headed for Mac. He was just the thing she needed as a pick-me-up after the long drive.

She'd pulled off her panty hose and kicked off her high heels before leaving Los Angeles. The grass was cool on her feet as she approached the porch.

“Are you lost?” she asked. “You live next door.”

“I know. I wanted to hear how things went. You look good.”

She glanced down at her suit, then dropped her panty hose and pumps on the stairs. “Clothes make the woman and all that.” She tugged the pins from her hair and shook the strands free. “What's up?” she asked as she sat on the top step and patted the space next to her.

“Nothing.” He sank onto the painted wood. “How was L.A.?”

“Interesting.”

“Did you like the law firm?”

“The senior partner had a giant stuffed fish in his office. Am I being punished or what?”

He smiled. “You're kidding.”

“Not even close. It stared at me through the whole interview. I have no idea what I said.” She tugged down her hem. “I don't think you were sitting out here waiting for me to hear the particulars about my trip. What's going on?”

“Nothing. Everything. I'm trying not to get drunk.”

“Speaking as someone who was recently in that condition, it sounds more fun than it is.” She angled toward him. “Want to tell me what happened to make that seem like an option?”

He raised his hands to chest level, then let them fall. “Emily.”

Jill sighed. She knew his daughter wasn't making things easy. Not that she knew enough about what had happened to judge.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked.

“There's not much to say. She told me she's sorry she's here and that she wishes she were with her mother.”

Jill winced. “She loves you, Mac, but she's a little girl. Her world doesn't always make sense to her. I'm sure, as much as she's enjoying her time here, she's also bound to miss her mom.”

“I believe everything you're saying. I know it's logical. I've even been thinking I should call Carly and ask her if she wants to see Em some Saturday. But I'm scared, too. What if Emily doesn't want to come back to me? What if she convinces her mother to never let me see her again?”

“Oh, Mac.”

Jill took his hand and squeezed it. She couldn't think of any words to help him right now. He knew what he was saying was crazy, but that didn't lessen the impact of the words.

“I love her so much,” he said quietly. “She's the best thing that ever happened to me.”