Finding Isadora (28 page)

“
Which we’ve got.”

Grace nodded.
“Yeah, I guess you do, even though you have different views on a lot of things. But you and Janice have that friendship and respect thing going too, and the two of you aren’t talking about getting married.”

I rolled my eyes.
“You know I’m not lesbian.”

“
And you do want a relationship with sex.”

“
Of course I do.”

“
And with you and Richard…”

I flushed hotly. In the past I
’d avoided having conversations about sex with my parents. They were totally open to the idea, but it made me feel squirmy. Still, today, I could use my mother’s wisdom. “With Richard the sex is good,” I muttered.

“
Good?”

All she
’d done was repeat my word, but it fell like a stone, dragging my fairy tale down with it. “It’s really good,” I protested.

“
Uh-huh.”

The stone dropped deeper. Softly, I said,
“But maybe not good enough?”

“
Only you can answer that one, hon.” Grace put an arm around me. “Do you sometimes feel so hot and bothered you can’t wait to make it into the bedroom, so you just have at it on—”

“
No!” I jumped in quickly, having no desire to hear about some of the strange places my parents had made out. I shook my head. “Not exactly. I mean, when we have sex it’s loving, and arousing and satisfying, but I can’t quite envision, uh, the hot and bothered scenario.”

“
If Richard was right for you, that scenario would be one of the first things you’d be envisioning. Before you thought about kids and houses and furniture.”

“
Kitchens,” I murmured. So what if I fantasized about kitchens? Kitchens were the heart of a home, the place where families came together. Kitchens were far more important than dizzy, dancing, hot-and-bothered feelings. “You’re talking about chemistry, lust, pheromones,” I argued, trying to recapture, to justify, my fairy tale. “That stuff may be exciting, but it wears off. It’s not enough to base a relationship on.”

“
No, of course not. You need friendship and respect, which you say you do have. Trust, the same values, a shared philosophy of life.” She paused, then said slowly, “To be honest, I’m not sure you and Richard really have all those things.” Her arm tightened around my shoulders. “Again, only you can answer that.”

“
We do. Much more than I’ve ever had with anyone else.”

She nodded slowly.
“And you’ll never find a perfect match. But—”

“
It feels easy with Richard and me,” I broke in. “It has from the beginning, when we met at the blood donor clinic.” I’d never felt off balance with him, as I did with his father.

“
It’s easy because you don’t challenge each other.”

“
No, it’s easy because we’re so compatible.”

Grace sighed.
“No, you just avoid dealing with anything that might cause a fight.”

“
That’s not true,” I protested indignantly.

“
Vegetarian versus meat-eater. How are you going to deal with that when you’re married? How’s he going to balance his drive to build his career against his desire to spend time with you and your kids? You both assume that somehow these things will work out, but they’re not going to do it by themselves. You have to both put some hard work into it. Until you do that, how can you be confident in your future together?”

I scowled at her.
“This doesn’t sound like my hippie mother talking. I thought you were a big believer in going with the flow.”

“
That works when a couple’s already faced serious problems and conflicts, and worked through them together. Things haven’t been so easy for Jimmy Lee and me, especially not in the beginning. With my parents, the draft issue, coming to Canada.”

“
I suppose.” I had to admit she was right. Richard and I had never faced any serious issues, and the trivial ones like our food preferences always got shoved aside in the optimistic hope we’d figure them out later. But that wasn’t like me. I was a planner, not a go-with-the-flow person.

“
You have no trouble challenging his father,” she said.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again.
In the short time I’d known Gabriel, we’d disagreed on lots of things—and yet we’d talked the issues through, listened to each other, not avoided our bones of contention. I frowned, bewildered at what this might mean.

My mother studied my face, then bit her lip.
“There’s another thing, Isadora. About that sexual spark? You’re wrong about it wearing off. That won’t happen if the man’s the right one. It’ll change, and maybe lie dormant for periods of time, but it won’t die. If anything, it will grow stronger. Everything grows stronger as you make your way through life together.”

“
You’re just lucky, you and Jimmy Lee. Most relationships aren’t like yours.”

Grace shook her head.
“No, they’re not. A lot of people don’t know any better. Yeah, luck has something to do with it, but so does recognizing your mate when he comes along, and not settling for someone else before he does.”

Close to tears for the second time that day, I buried my face in my hands.
“Richard’s such a nice man. We have so much going for us.”

“
Isadora, I know you want to map out your future. So, try this. Build a picture in your mind of you and Richard ten years from now. Have you worked out your issues in a way that respects both of your needs? And, when the day’s done and the kids are in bed, do you want to make love with him?”

It was a good question and so I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, the better to summon images to mind. The kitchen, our kids, us going off to work. Later, back in the kitchen again, Richard home at a reasonable hour, all of us sharing a meal—vegetarian, hopefully—and talking about our days. It was possible. He
’d said he would cut back on his hours when he made partner, but how many years would that take?

I banished that worry, and concentrated on images of us helping the kids with their homework, reading to them in bed. And then going to bed ourselves. What would Richard and I be doing, in our own bed?

I could see him reading legal papers and me reading veterinary magazines, or old James Herriot books. I could imagine us turning off the light and snuggling up to each other. And then—at least on some nights of the week—we’d make love. And it would be really good, probably even better than it was now.

Behind my closed eyelids, the image changed. I was back in the kitchen doing dishes and the house was quiet around me, settled down for the night. The door opened and Gabriel came in. I turned to him and that crazy energy flared between us and then he was backing me up against the kitchen counter, pinning me with one hand on either side, pressing against me, his eyes burning into me, and then his lips came down on mine and—

I jerked my head up, forcing my eyes open.

My mother was gazing at me, a cat-like smile curving her lips.
“Well, well. You and Richard. Maybe there really is hope for you. You’re a more passionate woman than you want to acknowledge, Isadora Dean Wheeler.”

She thought I
’d been imagining Richard. For one crazy moment I wanted to tell her about Gabriel and ask her advice. But he was my idiotic obsession, my taboo fantasy, my guilty secret. He might fit into my sex-scene fantasies, but not into the homey ones with the kids.

Why couldn
’t I have everything, the way my mother did?

“
It’s past five thirty,” I said woodenly. “You and Alyssa need to get going.”

She dropped a kiss on my forehead.
“I love you, hon. Don’t make any hasty decisions. Trust that things will work out the way they’re supposed to.”

“
Uh-huh. When are you bringing Alyssa back?”

“
Does Thursday work?”

“
That’ll be great.”

For the rest of my shift I tried to concentrate on my patients, but I wasn
’t as mentally or physically sharp as usual. I felt, almost literally, weighed down by my personal issues.

“
Doc?” It was Martin’s voice, and I raised my head from the chart I was completing. “I’m heading home,” he said.

I checked my watch. Past eight; quitting time. I
’d have to go home and sort out my feelings.

“
And,” Martin continued, “Margarida wanted me to tell you there’s someone at reception asking to see you.”

With any luck it would be a last-minute patient, and I could examine an animal rather than probe into the far more complicated workings of my own brain and heart.

But when I stepped into the reception area, I saw Gabriel. No dog this time, no blood, just Gabriel standing at the reception desk, his back to me as he chatted with Margarida in Portuguese. Tonight he wore suit pants and a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, and I guessed he’d been in court. His hair was loose though, freed from its silver clip.

And I remembered my fantasy, where he
’d backed me up against the kitchen counter and pressed his body against mine. Heat flooded through me, rising to my cheeks, tightening my nipples, tingling between my thighs.

Pheromones, I told myself.

Whatever it was, Gabriel felt it, too. I hadn’t made a sound, yet he turned, saying, “Hello, Isadora,” even before he saw me.

Two words, but they made the air crackle. Suddenly I was aware of how rumpled and sweaty I was. Gabriel looked plenty rumpled himself, but on him the effect was sexy. I suspected that, on me, it was just plain rumpled. Not that I wanted him to find me sexy.

And that was an out-and-out lie. I did. I wanted him to find me sexy. Wanted him to feel this dizzy, dancing feeling, too.

Goddess help me. What was I thinking?

“Came to pay the bill,” he said. After a couple of seconds, he went on. “The bill for Valente?”

I
’d been gaping at him, not thinking or responding. Pulling myself together, I mumbled, “Right. Valente. Thanks.”

He could have mailed a check or paid by credit card over the phone. But he was here. Why?

He came over to me and asked softly, “Are you off work now?”

Over his shoulder, I saw Margarida and Martin, not troubling to hide their curiosity.

“Yes, we’re just closing,” I murmured back.

“
Can I give you a ride home? Or do you have plans?”

Was I meeting Richard, he meant. Why didn
’t he come right out and say it?

“
I can walk.”

His lips twitched.
“Or bus or taxi. Believe me, I’m quite aware of all the modes of transportation you’d rather take than accept a lift from me.” His eyes narrowed, his gaze pinned me. “Feel like company on that walk home? We could get a bite to eat on the way.”

What was going on? He was behaving almost as if he was asking me on a date. Or, I told myself, like a prospective father-in-law being kind to a tired prospective daughter-in-law. Which did I want it to be?

I was so damned confused and upset, seeing Gabriel was the absolute last thing I needed. Glancing down at his muscular brown forearm, I felt a shivery ripple move over my own skin.

My brain told me this was the last man I should spend time with. Even if I did decide Richard and I weren
’t right for each other, his father and I had no future. And yet that shivery, dizzy feeling confirmed I wanted him.

I lifted my gaze, met his intense one. If I was a more experienced woman, I
’d be able to read his feelings, to know for sure if his interest was sexual or platonic.

Over at the reception desk, Martin and Margarida were chatting, but their conversation sounded stilted and I knew Gabriel and I were the true focus of their attention. I had to decide, and I didn
’t have the strength to resist the man. “Let me wash up and get my bag. I’ll just be a couple of minutes.”

“
I’ll wait outside.” He was no doubt also aware of our audience.

In the washroom, I sponged off as much of the day as a I could and ran a comb through my hair. The mirror told me my efforts hadn
’t effected a miraculous transformation. I was still a rumpled woman with a face that was unadorned except for purple shadows under my eyes.

Why did I care? I should politely tell Gabriel I wanted to be alone. I should spend the evening musing over the issues Grace and I had discussed. And after all, I was a woman who lived by
shoulds
, not by impulse.

When I came out of the washroom, Martin and Margarida had both gone. Gabriel was outside on the sidewalk, leaning against the clinic wall, one hand in a pants pocket. It was the same stance as the first time I
’d seen him, across the room at the Hotel Vancouver.