California Dreaming: Four Contemporary Romances (72 page)

He was nuts.

Hunter fed the 2 × 6 through the table saw. The smell of pine rose from the spinning blade and he breathed deeply, soothed by the aroma of creation. Only a few more cuts and then he’d be able to stain the pieces with a dark walnut he’d picked up yesterday when he’d gotten supplies to fix Sarah’s wall.

His lips curled as he remembered how Sarah had tried to help him with the lamp. He’d finally had to send her off to do something else before she hurt herself. It had taken a chunk of the next day to fix the walls.

His smile slipped. The whole thing had been great until he’d finished and was ready to go. She’d given him an impromptu hug as a thank you. It had taken all the will he had to simply accept the gesture instead of pulling her into his arms and kissing Rick out of her memory.

Damn!
The blade whined as it hit a knot and broke the final few inches of the board he’d been cutting. He shut off the saw and examined the damage.

“What are you doing in here?” Joe asked as he stuck his head in the room. “You’re going to wake the dead with all that noise.”

“Knot.”

“Bummer. You going to need to redo it?”

Hunter shook his head. “It broke on the scrap side.”

Joe came in and leaned against the wall. He looked like he had when they’d been in junior high together. All he needed was a cigarette to match the cool-guy look. “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“Nothing. Just working with the wood.”

“Hey. Remember me. I’ve known you most of your life. When you were sick over what was her name in eighth grade?”

“Mariah?”

“Yeah, her. You’ve got the same look.”

Hunter rolled his eyes. He set up two sawhorses and began to lay out the strips of wood across them. “Where’s the Shop-Vac?”

“Nope. Not telling you,” Joe said.

“C’mon. I got to get the dust out of here before I start staining. You know that.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on with you.”

“I told you. Nothing’s going on.”

“I would have thought you’d learn to lie better overseas,” Joe said with a big grin on his face. “You were always terrible at it and you haven’t gotten any better.”

Hunter glared at him. “Shop-Vac.”

“I’ll sic Mary on you.”

Hunter didn’t stand a chance against Joe’s wife and he knew it. He leaned against the workbench and wiped his hands with a rag. “I’ve had the stupid luck to become attracted to a woman who is pregnant and hasn’t decided whether she wants the father around or not.” He glanced up at Joe. “Satisfied?”

“Ah, the innkeeper.”

“The innkeeper.”

“You’re so — ”

“Yeah.”

“Shop-Vac’s in the other room. I got a burst of energy and cleaned. Mary was happy.” As Hunter went to retrieve the vacuum, Joe called out after him. “So what are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re not going to fight for her? She’s still free until she’s got a ring on her finger.”

“She’s
pregnant
.”

“And alone.”

“Kinda.”

Joe cocked his head and Hunter took the opportunity to rev up the machine and clear out the sawdust. The simple task gave him a measure of satisfaction.

He was accomplishing something, no matter how small.

Joe didn’t leave. Instead, he waited until Hunter was finished.

Hunter pursued every last speck of sawdust with the vacuum.

Joe didn’t move. If anything, his grin got bigger.

When the machine finally wound down, Joe asked, “What do you mean ‘kinda’?”

Studiously putting the machine back where he found it, Hunter tried to think of the best reply.

“It means,” he said with a sigh, “that the ex is sniffing around.”

“Pretty vulgar way to put it.”

“I don’t like him. He’s coming to see her every other weekend, trying to get her back. She says she keeps making him mad.” He pushed his palms into the work table to keep from pounding it in frustration. “When she opened the door and saw me standing there, she looked as if I’d brought her a million dollars.”

“The ex must be a real gem.”

“Yep.”

“And — ”

“I still have to give him a chance. It’s the right thing to do.”

“But you’re making furniture for her and helping her around the place” Joe looked at him as if he was as dumb as the lumber around him.

“When I can.” Hunter began to wipe down the boards.

“Uh-huh.” Joe left the room and Hunter gave a sigh of relief.

• • •

On Saturday Hunter sped past the Sausalito exit, unable to face his parents, although he knew he’d have to stop by before going home. As he drove, Sarah’s question rumbled over and over in his mind. Would he have been better off if his parents had split up rather than having to witness their ongoing misery?

The early morning fog was beginning to lift when he took Highway 1 toward Mount Tamalpais. The twists and turns over the mountains held his concentration until he got to Stimson Beach, where he stopped for coffee and a paper.

Seagulls squawked overhead, mingling with the damp smell of sand and marsh. Die-hard cyclists in bright colored gear crowded the coffee shop, prepping for their assault on the mountain. Amidst the spandex he caught a glimpse of a strangely shaped prosthetic leg.

He met the woman’s eyes. The gray irises held experience. He rose from his seat and went over to her. “When did you serve?” he asked.

“Still in,” she said. “Mostly intel now, but used to fly a chopper. That’s how I got this. You?”

“IED.”

They were silent for a moment. Hunter was engulfed with memories and he imagined the woman was as well. “You doing the highway or the mountain?” he finally asked.

“Mountain. I used to race competitively before. I’m trying to get in shape to apply for a team on the Amgen tour.”

“Serious biking.”

“Yeah.” She moved as if to go.

“Your prosthesis. Where did you get it?”

She smiled. “Cal Poly in Santa Barbara. They’re doing some innovative work there. I told them what I wanted to do and they built it for me.”

“Think they could do one for surfing?”

“I think they already have.” She waved at a guy standing by the door. “Gotta go. Good luck with the surfing.”

She left and he stared at the door while his mind raced with possibilities. Maybe the only one limiting him was himself.

He drove to the west entrance of Mt. Tamalpais State Park with his windows open, letting his mind drift. The color of the sky segued from gray to blue, like a montage from the start of a sci-fi movie. A hawk emerged from the dissipating clouds and circled, its telltale screech piercing the air.

When he reached the Bootjack parking area, he parked and got out. Cool air filled his lungs. Slapping a cap on his head, he took off.

He went slowly at first, unsure of his footing on the uneven ground, but he was determined to begin to live again, to do the things that brought joy into his life. After the close brush with suicide by Mavericks, he wanted to get his mind and his body into shape to accomplish his ambition.

Working on the hall stand for Sarah had rejuvenated his fascination with wood, the way its heart emerged in his hands. The idea of his creations standing in people’s homes for generations empowered him. The trick would be to convince people in this bottom dollar, discount-store world that an heirloom piece of furniture was worth the price.

Sarah came to mind. She seemed confident in her marketing ability and could probably show him how to develop a marketing campaign for his company.

He smiled.
His company.
It had a nice ring to it. He knew the way Sarah felt about her inn.

What he didn’t know was how she felt about him. How could she feel anything? Her mind was tied up in knots with that Rick guy. How could she even think of taking the snake back?

When Joe had found out Mary was pregnant, he was overjoyed. Hunter’s best friend was made to have kids. He was an easygoing guy, yet a hard worker, and he was doing his best to find a job for Hunter. Hopefully, with the weather breaking soon, the economy would loosen up a little more and Hunter would be able to do more than sheetrock. The fine dust particles were beginning to embed in his skin and he was tired of the monotony.

Hunter reached the end of the trail and turned around. The hike had cleared his head, but he still hadn’t come to any conclusions about his childhood. Who could say? His family was what it was. There wasn’t any do-over.

Once he was back in his car, he slid a Secret Garden CD into the player. Someday it would be nice to have a fancy radio, with all the Internet gizmos, but today the soothing music pouring through his membranes was perfect.

“Hi, Mom,” he said when he walked into his parents’ living room a few hours later. “Dad home?”

“Oh. Hi, dear.” She looked up from her book. She looked thinner than the last time he’d seen her and a spark had left her eyes.

“You okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine, honey. Just tired today. Your dad’s at the San Francisco office. Should be home after four if you want to see him.”

Not likely.

“I’m going to get something to drink. I’ll refresh your tea.”

“Thanks.”

How was he going to broach the subject? The whistle on the kettle blew and he made the tea. While it was steeping, he rummaged in the refrigerator and found some sparkling water he’d left there the last time he’d come home.

Returning to the living room, he set the teapot on a table and settled on a chair near his mother.

“Thank you,” she said and reached for the tea. The hand that clasped the cup was bone-thin.

“Mom? Can I ask you a question?”

Stupid way to begin. A question to ask a question. No better way to telegraph that the follow-up was going to be bad.

She knew it, too. She glanced at him from under her hooded eyelids and nodded, almost imperceptibly.

“Before we moved up here, I thought, well, I had the impression that you and Dad weren’t getting along.”

“We weren’t.”

“Why did you stay?”

She pursed her lips as if trying to make a decision. Setting the teacup down, she put her hands back under the blanket. “I suppose there’s no use in keeping it secret anymore.”

He held his breath.

“I … I had met someone. I thought I was in love with him and I wanted to leave your father.”

She blinked her eyes rapidly. “He told me he’d fight me for custody of you and leave me penniless. Because your father is a lawyer, he knows all the tricks. He would have won and I’d have lost you.”

She looked at him and smiled. “But that’s old history. Like I said, it doesn’t matter anymore. Let’s not talk about it. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

He studied her for a moment. Should he let her off the hook that easily? She looked worn out. What was the point of pursuing what might have been? “Okay, mom.”

She smiled as he told her about his job and the cabinet he was making. “Who are you making it for?”

He looked out the window for a minute, before turning back to her and answering. “No one really. I’m doing it on spec. See if a businessperson wants to display it along with my business cards.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrows raised and he caught a glimpse of the society woman she’d once been. “Isn’t that risky? Does this person get a lot of traffic? What kind of business is it?”

“Um. It’s an inn.” Really too bad his mother had to have the heat up so high. The room was getting stuffy.

“Where’s the inn? Who’s the owner? Someone we used to know?”

His shoulders slumped in defeat. “It’s our old house, Mom. A young woman bought it and she’s making it into an inn.”

“I see.” His mother picked up her tea. Even though she tried to mask it, the pain of memory flitted across her face and he noticed again how thin she was.

“Mom, is something wrong? I hate to say this, but you don’t look well.”

She set the teacup down with a rattle. After a moment she turned to him, her dark brown eyes luminescent with tears. “It’s the cancer, Hunter. It’s come back.”

“Then why aren’t you in a hospital? What do you need? I’ll kill dad if he’s not helping you get better!” Hunter stood, ready to do battle.

She waved her hand at him. “Sit. Stop being so dramatic. Your father will do anything I ask now that it’s come to the end.”

Hunter’s breath became raw. “What do you mean, the end?”

“They can’t do much. It’s spread everywhere.”

“What about radiation?”

She shook her head again. “I refused it. The treatment makes you sicker than the illness. I want to die in dignity, in my home, watching the ferry boats cross the bay and the lights come on in the city, not in some sterile room somewhere.”

All the peace he’d gotten on Mount Tam deserted him. “Oh, Mom.” He fought back the tears.

There’d been very little left to say after that, Hunter reflected on his way back to Santa Cruz. This time he eschewed the slow route. Speed was what he needed and fortunately the traffic was light and the road clear. Although he expected a swirling red light at any moment, he made it home — or what passed for home — by nightfall.

He went straight back to his residence motel, exchanging a few words in Spanish with the other residents. Eating held no appeal and he knew drinking would be a mistake.

Instead, he took out his laptop.

For the next few hours he surfed the web to learn about the latest in prosthetics. What he saw gave him hope. The tinkerers and scientists, bless them, were inventing techniques to help paraplegics to do almost anything. He shot off an email to his medical coordinator to find out the process to get what he needed at a price he could afford.

He tapped his fingers on the hard plastic and stared at the cracks that ran from the ceiling molding. The motel was old and had been through the 1989 earthquake. Obviously, repair had been sketchy.

He really needed to find a new place to live. He’d been holding out hope for the inn, but now that Rick was back in the picture, that wasn’t realistic. Sarah’s ex probably wouldn’t take kindly to a competitor living in the same house with the woman he was trying to woo.

The thought brought Hunter up short. Despite what he’d said to Joe, did he want to convince Sarah that Rick was wrong for her?