California Dreaming: Four Contemporary Romances (12 page)

“What are you so afraid of?” he asked softly.

“Nothing. My life is in control, like I told you. I don’t have to like it, but I’ll do what needs to be done. I always have.”

The defenses were up again. He went back to neutral territory.

“I loved Montana, but I knew it’d be tough to stay. After Jessica died, I saw our lives together everywhere. We’d met at the university and our lives as a couple were there.” He broke off a piece of the cookie and savored the soft sweetness before continuing. “Jessica had been gone a little over a year when I got involved with a friend of hers.”

“What happened?”

He shrugged. “We were both still hurting and it seemed natural to comfort each other. One thing led to another and we started going out. I didn’t think I’d ever find the love I had with Jessica again, but we learned to care deeply for each other. At least I thought we did. I’d asked her to marry me when a job came through for her in Bozeman at Montana State. Deborah was a biology professor — non-tenured — and it was the perfect chance for her. We figured we could make it through the first year — see how it panned out — and then I could move down there and find a job.”

“And … ”

“And … it didn’t work out. She became involved with someone else and that was the end of that.”

Funny, the betrayal still got to him in ways that Jessica’s death didn’t. He picked up his coffee cup. It was his turn to put up some walls. He looked at her.

She stared at the table, her mouth turned down, and a wrinkle furrowed the spot between her eyebrows. He could fall in love with that wrinkle.

“Oh, John, I’m so sorry that happened to you.” She raised her head. “Why on earth would you want to get involved with me? Especially when I’m planning on moving?”

That was an excellent question. One he didn’t really have an answer for. He sat in silence for a few moments, sipping his coffee. She let him be, drinking her coffee and staring at the traffic in the parking lot.

He put down his coffee. “I don’t really have an answer to that. All I know is that you stir something in me, something I haven’t felt since Jessica died. I never felt this way with Deborah. It seems important to me to give it a chance to blossom.”

She put her hand over his. “I really am leaving, John. I have to.”

Placing his hand on top of hers, he looked into her eyes. “Why? Silicon Valley must be filled with opportunities for you, even in this economy. Take a chance with me, Annie.”

She shook her head. “You don’t know much about the valley. When the economy goes down, there aren’t any jobs anywhere — except maybe contracting jobs. And they don’t give me the medical benefits I need.” She paused. “And what happens if it doesn’t work out between us, John? What do I do then?”

He didn’t have an answer to that, either. He knew in his heart of hearts that it would work out. He just had to make her believe that.

She withdrew her hand from his. “Why did you want to own a bookstore?” she asked.

They were back to neutral territory.

“I always wanted to write, but it’s a hard slog. So I worked odd jobs, including working at Fact and Fiction, our local bookstore. I was there so long that they finally made me manager — took pity on me because they could see no one was ever going to publish the drivel I wrote.” He finished off his cookie. “At some point I realized that I wanted to be my own boss. So I started looking for a bookstore to own. This one came up and here I am.”

“I wish you well with it.” She swallowed her last sip of coffee. “Look, John. I wish it were different. I like you, too. But it doesn’t look like it’s going to work out for us, so why don’t we leave it alone?” She glanced at her watch. “I have to pick up David. Thanks for the coffee.” Her voice hitched. “See you.” She walked toward the parking lot. At the corner of the building, she turned and gave him a weak smile and a small wave.

He could swear he saw a tear on her check.

Damn.

• • •

Even the chirpy greeting from the flight attendant couldn’t lift Annie’s mood. Grunting a hello, she staggered down the narrow aisle with her heavy carry-on bag banging her knees in front of her. She jammed the bag in the overhead bin and sidled to her window seat. Strapping her seatbelt around her, she grabbed the water bottle and thick book she’d purchased at the only open airport kiosk. A thin, balding man sat in the aisle seat, gave her a brief smile before stabbing at his Blackberry with a stylus.

The airplane was almost full when a tall gray-haired woman in a soft purple blouse strode through the cabin to stand at the end of their row. Annie groaned inwardly when the woman settled in the middle seat beside her.

“Carol Eos,” the woman said. “It’s going to be a long flight in cramped quarters — may as well get to know each other.” The broad smile on the woman’s face reached her sparkling deep blue eyes.

“Annie Gerhard. Nice to meet you.”

She turned, rested her head against plastic fuselage and closed her eyes, hoping the woman would take the hint. Six-thirty in the morning was too early to be on a plane, and definitely too early to be that cheerful. She shifted to get more comfortable, propping her head up with her sweater. Soon the murmur of voices around her lulled her to sleep.

The engine’s roar during take-off brought her back to consciousness. Half-awake, she rehashed the previous evening.

David had been moody the entire night, barely saying a word while they finished dinner and loaded his bags into her car. When they’d gotten to Elizabeth’s, he’d slammed the passenger door, yanked open the rear door, and grabbed his stuff, slammed that door, too, and stalked toward Elizabeth’s front door.

She caught up with him on the doorstep. “What’s wrong with you? Stop acting like this!”

“I’m not moving to New Jersey.”

“You’ll do what I tell you.”

“I’ll sleep on Dad’s floor. I’ll run away. I’m not moving.”

The door opened. Elizabeth looked at each of them. “Something wrong?” she asked.

“No,” David and Annie chorused.

“I can see that. C’mon in.”

“Thanks for letting me stay,” David said, plunging past Elizabeth toward the spare room he always used.

Annie poked her head into the room. “David, I’m leaving now.”

“Bye,” he said without turning away from his hand-held video game. She walked over to his chair, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“David, don’t be this way. I love you. I’m trying to do what’s best for both of us.”

“Then stay here.”

She took a deep breath. “We’ll talk some more when I get home. Give me a hug. You know I can’t get on a plane without a hug from you.”

He’d stood and thrown his arms around her in a half-hearted hug. “I love you, too, Mom.”

She’d said her good-byes to Elizabeth and hurried home, tears once again stinging her eyes. Life was getting to be too many good-byes.

She opened her eyes and stared out the plane window, shifting to relieve the stiffness in her neck. “Want anything?” a voice thundered in her ear.

“What?” Annie asked.

“Food. It’s eight dollars,” Carol, the woman sitting next to her said, gesturing to the aisle. A flight attendant was leaning over holding a paper box.

“I guess.” She fished out a ten-dollar bill from her purse, exchanging it for the box and change.

“Anything to drink? That appears to be free.”

“Oh. Coffee.”

“Good thing they don’t charge us for going to the bathroom … yet.”

Annie chuckled. “Actually, I just read that Ryan Air is going to charge to use the toilet.”

“Really?” Carol gasped. “Obviously the airline is run by a man with a big bladder.”

Annie’s chuckle turned into a laugh. She managed to get the tray table down before the attendant handed her the hot coffee. She opened the box and poked at the skinny egg burrito.

“I’ll try mine first,” Carol said. “If I don’t gag, you’ll know it’s safe.”

Annie had to grin. “Okay.” She watched as Carol unwrapped the paper from the burrito and took a bite.

“Safe,” she declared after she finished chewing. “I suppose now that we have to pay for it, they have to give us better food.” Annie bit into her own burrito.

“Why are you flying to Philly?” Carol asked.

“Job interview.”

“Opportunity or necessity?”

God, this woman was nosy.
“Necessity.”

Carol’s laugh startled her. “Sorry. Occupational hazard. I’m a life coach — we’re trained to ask lots of questions. I should start every conversation by saying, ‘I ask too many questions. You don’t have to answer me!’” She laughed again.

“What’s a life coach?”

“Someone who asks lots of questions to help you realize that you have to do some work if you want to change your life. Then we hold you accountable for doing it.”

“Sounds tough.”

“Sometimes it is, but I love it. Watching people change is quite amazing. I guess I love it so much that I never quite leave it behind. I’ve become sensitive to people who hedge what they’re saying, trying not to reveal too much.”

“Like me.”

“Could be. We’ve got a long flight. What’s the story?”

Annie glanced over at the man in the aisle seat, who was engrossed in the latest best-selling business book. After a few moments of silence, she began, telling the total stranger in the seat next to her everything about her transfer and David’s reaction.

“Wow,” she said, finishing up the last sentence. “I usually don’t dump like that. Sorry.”

Carol waved her bejeweled hand. “It sounds difficult. I’m glad you felt safe enough to ‘dump.’ The economy’s been a bear. Many of my clients have experienced layoffs … they all react differently. The ones who do the best are the ones who use the opportunity to take a look at what they really want to do, regroup, and try something new.”

“More coffee?” the attendant asked.

“Sure,” said Carol, passing both cups for refills. When she handed a cup to Annie, she said, “I’d love to be able to help you, but this isn’t the time or place. I do most of my coaching by phone. If you want to talk about this more, give me a call.” She handed Annie a business card.

Annie put it in her purse.

The next hour of the flight passed quickly as Carol told Annie stories about her small town of Surf City on Long Beach Island, a smaller East Coast version of Santa Cruz, complete with tie-dye shops, surfers, and a lighthouse.

Somewhere over the Rockies, the drone of the engines, drama of the last few weeks, late night, and early morning trip to the airport caught up with Annie and her eyelids began to droop.

“I’ve taken up enough of your time,” Carol said. “I’ll let you get back to your book, or take a nap.”

“Thanks. And thanks for listening.”

She stared out the window at the snowcapped mountains for a long while and tried closing her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. Carol’s words echoed in her head:
The ones who do the best are the ones who use the opportunity to take a look at what they really want to do, regroup, and try something new.

What did she really want to do?

When she’d become pregnant with David, Annie’d stayed in school long enough to finish the spring semester. Fred had been in his sophomore year working toward a philosophy major while she’d been a freshman music major. At night she’d sung folk music in small clubs and house concerts in the area; she’d begun to build up a following and began to write her first songs, until pregnancy forced her to give that up. No room for both a baby and a guitar on her lap.

After David was born, Fred used it as an excuse to drop out of college. He spent most of his days hanging out with surfers, travelers, and other tellers of tall tales while she worked as a temporary secretary to pay for necessities. When he got a night bartending job at a local beach hangout, he started drinking more heavily. Each night he came home later, heaving himself up the porch steps to their apartment, loud groans accompanying every heavy footstep. In the beginning he came right to bed; later a clinking glass, the slam of the refrigerator door, and the low drone of the television announced his homecoming.

After a few months of waking up to him sprawled on the couch, dirty dishes everywhere, she reached her first breaking point. “It’s like my dad,” she told him. “Drinking every night. You’re going through half a gallon of vodka a week. It can’t be healthy. Maybe you should see someone.”

Fred’s face turned red. “You’re always on me about something. First it was finish school, then get a job. Now you’re bellyaching about how much time I spend relaxing. You’re not my mother. Hell, you’re sounding like
your
mother. You don’t get to tell me what to do.” He’d slammed out of the apartment, coming home even later after work that night.

She was not going to be like her mother. She’d hired her first babysitter, begun night classes at the local college, and upped her exercise routine, believing if she worked harder, he’d stop drinking. She’d been sure of it. Maybe he’d even love her again.

It hadn’t worked. No matter what she did, he’d continued to drink. The only affection she’d gotten from him was a slobbery alcoholic kiss after groping her breasts in the kitchen. When he had come to bed, he’d passed out snoring the moment his head hit the pillow. She’d learned to be grateful for the loss of consciousness.

An ache that threatened to engulf her opened in her chest.
I lost myself. It was his insanity and I bought into it, believing his version of the truth. It was lies, all lies. Piercing pain brought tears to her eyes. Not now. Not on a plane. Later.
She slammed the door shut on memories, using the napkin to wipe the dampness from her eyes.

“Tears are okay,” Carol said. “It’s the ones we don’t shed that cause us problems.” She patted Annie’s arm. “Call me. We’ll talk.”

Annie gave her a wan smile. She spent the rest of the trip reading her book, staring out the window, and napping. Her mental door remained tightly shut. Carol must have sensed her need to be quiet, because she stayed immersed in her own book or chatted with the man in the aisle.

“Coffee cups?” asked the flight attendant as the head attendant droned on about arrival times, transfer gates, and baggage locations.