Things Remembered (9 page)

“Do as much shopping as you like. You don't have to worry about me.”

“I was going to make an appointment at the bank for this afternoon to get into your safe-deposit box, but I think you've been through enough today. It can wait until tomorrow.”

“I've been giving your being here some thought.”

Karla exited and turned left, taking them under the freeway. “Oh?”

“I've decided you're right. There are some things that I need to put in order.”

Karla had butted heads with Anna too many times to be drawn in by her seemingly easy capitulation. “What made you change your mind?”

“You have something I want. It seems only fair that I give you what you want in exchange.”

“Okay, I'll bite. What do I have that you want?”

“All those years I missed with your mother.”

Karla gave her a puzzled look.

“I want you to tell me about them. I want to hear everything you can remember, every detail, every moment.”

If Karla had been instructed to draw up a list of a hundred possibilities, Anna's request would have been at the very bottom. “That doesn't make sense. What difference could it make now?”

“Why does it have to make sense?”

“As you said before, you'll be seeing her yourself soon. Why not ask her then?”

“I want the stories to come from you.”

Karla felt as if she'd been backed into a corner. “If this is your idea of a way to foster some last-minute reconciliation between us, to . . . to . . . create some common ground to build a relationship on, it's too late, Anna. We can't erase nineteen years in four weeks. It's foolish to even try.”

“Why?”

“Because you'll just be disappointed.”

“At least I'll know we tried.”

“The doctor said you're supposed to avoid things that upset you.”

“If that's true, then the answer is obvious. Let me have what I want.”

“I'm not going to let you blackmail me into this,” Karla said. “You may be—”

“Why is it so hard for you to talk about your mother? I've tried since the day you first came here to get you to open up, but you were just as stubborn back then as you are now. Why?” The more agitated she got, the shorter and faster her breaths.

Upset at Anna's physical distress, at the obvious signs of her grandmother's failing heart, at her own inability to control the situation, Karla burst out, “Because it hurts too much to talk about her.”

Anna's eyes widened in surprise. “Even after all this time?”

“Even after all this time,” she repeated woodenly. Her memories hadn't faded. They were as clear now as they had ever been, as poignant. She could still hear her father's laugh and see him coming up to put his arms around her mother as she worked at some chore. The way her parents had looked at each other, the smiles they gave no one else, the kisses they shared that had nothing to do with arriving or leaving were the guideposts Karla used to define love. After she started dating, it hadn't taken long to realize she'd set her standard impossibly high. If she wanted a man in her life, she would have to find a way to settle. And she had.

She waited for a car to pass and then turned into Anna's driveway. “If you were thinking about telling me how much better I'd feel if I got it all out, don't bother. I've already heard it from the best psychiatrist my HMO would provide.”

“I didn't know you'd had therapy.”

She stopped in front of the house so that Anna wouldn't have to walk from the detached garage. “If you want to call five sessions with a man who couldn't take his eyes off my chest long enough to look at my face ‘therapy,' then I guess you could say I've had therapy.”

“As much as I'd like you to believe this is for you, it's not,” Anna said. “It's for me.”

Karla sensed it was an argument she was going to lose. Anna had time and stubbornness on her side. Without her grandmother's cooperation, Karla wouldn't get to finish half of what she'd planned to get done before she had to leave. “All right,” Karla said, yielding. “You can ask your questions, but I reserve the right not to answer if I don't want to.”

“Agreed.”

Karla got out and went around the car to open Anna's door. She was about to add to the list of conditions that the questioning wouldn't start until they'd finished whatever Karla had planned for the day, when she saw how slowly Anna moved and decided it could wait. As she helped her out of the car and into the house, Karla was once again struck by how small Anna actually was. In her mind her grandmother was a giant figure, dominating the landscape of their time together. Karla wasn't sure where this diminutive, fading woman belonged in her life.

“Thank you for today,” Anna said as Karla helped her into bed and turned to leave. “I know how you hate anything to do with doctors and hospitals.”

There were some things she couldn't deny. She'd rather clean a friend's house than spend five minutes visiting her in the hospital. “You're welcome,” she said.

Karla was inside her car, her seat belt in place, when she realized she hadn't given Anna her cell phone number in case she needed to reach her. She returned to the house, wrote her number on a slip of paper, and went to Anna's room. She was already asleep, propped up on a small mound of pillows, softly snoring, a pill bottle clutched in her left hand.

Karla had already propped the paper against the telephone and started to leave when she noticed a hand-knit afghan at the foot of the bed. The house was warm now, but in an hour or two the redwood tree beside the garage would put the bedroom in shade. Karla carefully opened the blanket and laid it over Anna, trying not to disturb her.

As she was leaving she heard a softly spoken, “Thank you, sweetheart.”

No one had ever called her sweetheart. No one but her mother. The voice sounded so much like the way she remembered her mother's that she actually turned to look.

She and Anna were alone.

A terrible longing came over Karla. She was again the frightened fourteen-year-old who had lain in bed upstairs and cried silent tears for a mother who could not hear. Why now, when she was grown and strong and independent, had her mother finally answered?

Chapter

7

K
arla stopped by a Starbucks for a double espresso, went outside to one of the shaded tables, and called Jim at the shop.

Her hand tightened on the receiver when the phone rang at the other end and Jim answered with a cheerful, “Coffee Shop on the Corner—Jim speaking.”

“It's Karla.”

“It's about time. I was beginning to worry about you.”

“I just got here last night and I told you I wouldn't call until I got to Anna's.”

“You're usually so hands-on about this place. I don't know, I guess I thought you'd be checking in more often.”

“Is that why you tried to reach me at Heather's?”

“So she told you? When I didn't hear, I thought maybe she hadn't.”

He would never change. Their whole marriage, whenever there had been something wrong between them, he would wait for her to make the first move, to initiate the conversation, to start the fight. Now he was waiting for her to tell him she knew about the girlfriend.

“Are you there?” he asked.

She stared at a woman dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, wiping sweat from her forehead as she went inside the coffee shop. Halloween was less than a week away and it was ninety-one degrees. “How's the shop?” she finally asked, knowing she was only postponing the inevitable. “Any problems?”

“Not so far. Although we're down to our last ten pounds of French roast. When did you say the shipment was due?”

“Friday.”

“We may run out before then.”

She couldn't ignore the “we” any longer. By the warmth in his voice it was obvious that he meant someone other than the two part-time workers usually there. “Have you hired someone to help you?”

“What makes you think that?” he asked slowly.

“You keep saying ‘we' as if you had someone there.”

A long pause followed. “Heather didn't tell you?”

“What was Heather supposed to tell me, Jim?”

He knew her too well for her to get away with leading him on. “Damn it, Karla, don't make me do this.” His voice dropped to a more private level. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“Since when?” She lowered her head and saw a penny lying faceup on the asphalt. “Forget I said that. The last thing I want to do is rehash old times. I do think you could have asked before you moved your girlfriend into my house, however. That was a new low, even for you.”

“She surprised me. I had no idea she was coming. Say the word and I'll find another place for us to stay.”

It wasn't the answer she'd been looking for. She'd wanted him to say he would send the girlfriend back to Los Angeles. “Sounds serious,” she said, knowing he would understand.

“I think she's the one, Karla. I know I've said it before, but I haven't even looked at another woman since I met her. What's even more amazing, I haven't wanted to.”

If she believed for a second that he had any idea how much his words had hurt, she would be devastated. Instead, she said, “I hope it works out, then.”

“Amy's been terrific about helping. She said to tell you what a great place you've got and how much she's enjoying herself.”

Karla wasn't sure how much more she could take. “I can't pay her, Jim.”

“She knows that. She's doing it for me. You know, learning the ropes and all.”

“Why would she care about ‘learning the ropes'?” She might not have the right to feel possessive about Jim anymore, but the shop was hers. She shared that with no one.

“I've decided I was an idiot for leaving this place. I love being back. Now don't laugh, but I've been thinking about finding a corner somewhere to set up a shop of my own.”

“In Solvang?” She couldn't imagine anything worse.

“I wouldn't do that to you, Kay Bee,” he said using his old nickname for her.

He wanted to be her friend. He actually
thought
he was her friend. She'd been so good at making room for him to be in that position in her life that he didn't have any idea how she really felt about him. “You might want to look into it a little more. With the chains expanding the way they are, a lot of the independent shops are having a hard time staying in business.”

“Maybe I'll look into a franchise.”

“From what I hear, they're pretty expensive.” She meant to be helpful; instead she came across sounding negative even to herself.

He wasn't going to be discouraged. “I guess I forgot to tell you that I came into some money a while back, and for the first time in my life, I didn't immediately run out and spend it all.”

“That's wonderful,” she said with forced enthusiasm. Now that he was becoming the man she'd always encouraged him to be, he was in love with someone else. “I really should get back to Anna now. You can call me there if something comes up. Otherwise, I'll get back to you in a couple of days.”

“Are you sure it's all right for me to call you there? What if she answers the phone? The way she feels about me, it's not going to do that heart of hers any good to hear my voice.”

“She has bigger problems than hearing your voice.”

“So this whole thing wasn't some ploy to get her wayward granddaughter to come home? She really is dying?”

She didn't want to face the answer by saying it aloud. “I'll tell you about it another time.”

His voice serious, he asked, “Is there something I can do?”

“You're doing it.” He could have been doing it alone, but it was plain that that bird had left the nest forever. Having Jim show up with a woman in tow was precisely the push she'd needed to get on with her life. “But I appreciate the offer.”

“I know this is a crazy time to be saying this, but I never fully appreciated what we had until it was gone. I love you, Karla. I guess in a way I always will. You're the best friend I ever had.”

How was she supposed to answer him? What could she possibly say except the obvious? “I'm glad you feel that way. I do, too.”

She promised to call and they said good-bye. Not knowing what else to do, she drove to a park near a new brick church, sat by herself on a bench under a heritage oak as old as the town itself, and cried until all the tissues in her purse were a soggy mess then got up and went on with her day.

Karla was standing in line at the pharmacy section of the grocery store waiting to turn in Anna's new prescription when she heard someone call her name. She turned and saw Susan headed her way.

“How did the appointment go?” she asked, wheeling her cart closer.