A Time to Mend (33 page)
“A motel room!”
“I need to be by myself for a few days. Honey, please don’t cry.”
“Dad’s trying!”
Claire pressed her lips together.
“You could at least give him a chance!” With a sob Jenna hurried from the room.
Her mom had totally gone off the deep end this time.
C
laire carried her violin case and pulled a wheeled suitcase down Tandy’s hall.
Only three more feet and I’m out of here.
If Tandy would ever budge. She had picked Claire up at the house and taken her to rent a car. Claire went to her condo and packed her things. Now ready to leave, she found the exit blocked by her friend, arms crossed, legs wide.
“Claire.” Tandy flicked her fingers beneath one eye, then the other. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
“Please don’t go sappy on me.”
“I can’t help it. Forty-eight hours ago I thought you were dead. I thought Lexi and Indio and Ben were dead. So did everybody else. How do you expect us to let you out of our sight already?”
“Me out of your sight? So it’s you who shouldn’t be alone, not me.”
“Same difference.”
“Tandy, give me a break. I just went through this with my kids. I can’t take care of you all!”
“We need to comfort each other. Sort of a group decompression.”
“You know, I’m the one who thought I was going to die. I’m the one facing ghosts.”
“All the more reason not to go it alone. You’ve heard my pastor speak. He’s compassionate and wise. He’d be over here lickety-split if I ask him.”
“How many ways can I say this? I do not want to talk to anyone!”
“Till when?”
“I don’t know till when! I told you, I’ll be at that Villa place in Oceanside. They have telephones. I will get a new cell phone as soon as possible. I am not going anywhere else.”
“I’ll come over and take you to dinner tomorrow night.”
“No.”
“Max needs you.”
“Ha. Right. Ben was telling me yesterday about ‘foxhole epiphanies,’ how fear makes you see things differently. They can help you set things right, or they can cause you to make worthless promises. Max’s epiphany falls in the latter category. He’ll get over it. He already did. He went to work.”
“I really think he’s changed.”
“Tandy! Get off my back!”
She flinched as if Claire had slapped her. “You’ve turned into a selfish witch.”
“Thanks.”
Tandy moved aside.
Claire went to the door, yanked it open, and strode through it without a backward glance. She heard it click shut behind her.
C
laire’s throat felt scraped raw.
As it should. She’d shrieked and cried and gotten sick in the gold mine. She’d inhaled smoke and ash for days. And to top it off, she’d just yelled at her best friend.
On the balcony of her hotel room a block from the beach, she pulled on her jacket and settled into a chair. Ash was not falling here. The sky remained overcast, but it was a normal gray, not that ugly yellowish tint. The sound of muffled ocean waves racing to shore reached her ears. Their constancy soothed her nerves. She gulped in large amounts of clean salt air.
Poor Tandy. She’d gotten the brunt of it all after Claire managed to hold herself together with her family.
Jenna’s emotional reaction in the bedroom when Claire searched for money and cards had convinced her she needed to talk to her other kids before leaving the house.
Max was at the office. Of course. Ben and Indio were sequestered in the guest room. Jenna and Kevin disappeared outdoors some-where. Claire approached Erik, Danny, and Lexi on the drive in front of the house. They were preparing to go to the hacienda with their grandparents.
Lexi said, “Mom, you don’t look ready for this.”
“I’m not. Actually . . .”
Danny caught her eye. She suspected he knew already, not because Jenna told him, but because he noticed things better than his sib-lings did.
“Actually,” she said, “I’m not ready for any of this. I guess I’m still shell-shocked. This reunion is wonderful. All of you staying overnight here has meant the world to me. But tomorrow or the next day, you’ll get back to your regular lives.”
Danny said, “Mom, he’s trying so hard.”
She held up a finger. “Let me finish. You should get back to your regular lives. My regular life, three days ago, wasn’t here. I was in the middle of finding my own voice again. I have to—” Her energy gave out at that point. She’d told them she was leaving. It was all she could say.
But Lexi nodded. “You have issues to deal with, like that thing in the gold mine. Abandonment. Feeling safe and secure.”
Grateful surprise flooded through her. Lexi had grown by leaps and bounds through that night. “Exactly.”
Lexi smiled and gave her a thumbs-up.
Claire turned to her eldest.
Erik shrugged. “Do what you gotta do.”
Claire’s throat caught at the defeated expression on his face. The night had done something to him. It had muted him. There he was, living with a great special feature story for his evening news, and he refused to allow any reporter or photographer to interview his family.
Already the news was old. His station and others, as well as the newspapers and
People
magazine, had gleaned what they needed from Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. She was glad not to be included and trusted that Erik would recover after a time.
“Mom.” Danny’s tone challenged. “Why not give Dad another chance?”
Toxic words spewed forth. “Because he gave up his right to another chance when he chose to work on Monday and spend that night with Neva instead of coming to the hacienda.”
She shouldn’t have said that.
But she had, and it was the truth, and there was no taking it back. Let them discuss it with their father.
Claire shut her eyes now.
Maybe she’d always been a selfish witch, really, deep down inside. If that were true, she might as well stop trying to hide behind nicey-nice smiles and agreeable words.
It seemed she’d already stopped doing those things. She’d spouted off to everyone—everyone she supposedly loved. She’d alienated them. And now there she was, spending a large chunk of her hus-band’s money—which she claimed wasn’t important—on a beach motel and rental car. She would eat at restaurants and buy books and make long-distance calls to her kids. Of course, if they didn’t answer, there’d be no charge.
One person would answer, though. He’d promised he’d be there for her. He’d said his number was listed in the phone book.
A
lone at last.” Kevin set a gym bag on the floor and shut the apartment door.
Walking toward their kitchen, Jenna threw him a weak smile. She was exhausted every which way. They had spent most of the day at the hacienda with her grandparents, Erik, and the twins. They sifted through the fire’s aftermath, finding very few salvageable items. It all had been too sad for words. Even Papa had wept, more for the loss of chickens and his favorite old horse than for the material things in the house. Nana mourned little—except for the photos, the mementos, the only tangibles of her lost son.
Then, back at her dad’s, they ate pizza, one last meal together before going their separate ways. Of course, her mom had already gone her separate way.
Yes, it was all too sad for words.
Now she was home for the very first time since before the fire, since before she’d gone her own separate way and moved to Tandy’s.
She stepped into the kitchen, stopped dead in her tracks, blinked, and screamed, “Kevin!”
Dirty dishes and glasses lay everywhere—in the sink, on the countertops, on the table. Empty chip bags, boxes of crackers and cereal, and more sat all over the place. A potted philodendron in the window was brown. Not yellow or weepy green, but brown and crusted.
“Kevin!”
“Whoops. Sorry. I didn’t have a chance to—”
“I can’t believe this!” She circled the small area. “My poor philly. Nobody kills a philly. Oh. My. Gosh. Look at that stovetop!”
“Jen.”
“What?” she snapped and looked up at him.
“I missed you.”
“What does that have to do with living in a pigsty?”
“I’ll clean it up.”
“You got that right.”
“Tomorrow.”
“You are not a slob. My gosh, you’re a Marine. You get on me for not being tidy enough. And look at this! Unbelievable.”
“What can I say? I lost my head. I couldn’t think straight without you here. I couldn’t eat or sleep.”
“It looks like you ate plenty.”
“I didn’t eat right. Mostly junk food.”
She stared at him. He wasn’t doing his little-boy, oh-shucks-ma’am routine. He was admitting what she meant to him.
“Because I wasn’t here?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “You saw your dad Monday night at the lookout point? I wasn’t in that bad a shape, but close to it.”
“Oh, Kev. You never let on at school or at that brunch Erik tricked us into.”
“Right. And lose macho face? A guy doesn’t go around saying, ‘Boo-hoo. I’m falling apart because she left.’”
“They do in songs.”
He smiled. “Hey! Wait a minute. Back up. Did you hear what you said?”
“What?”
“You called me a Marine. Present tense.”
“I did not.”
“You did. Come here, pretty lady.” He took her hand and led her out of the kitchen. “Let’s get out of the pigsty. We need to talk.”
They sat on the couch. For a long moment they only stared at each other. In all the hubbub of the past few days, Jenna didn’t remember really looking at him. There hadn’t been a spare moment to be alone.
She touched his bristly jaw. “Did I thank you for coming to Tandy’s Monday night?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been my rock this week. You were just there all the time, helping everybody. You never complained. You always knew exactly what to do.”
“I love your family.”
“It’s not my family. It’s ours.”
“Okay, our family. As long as I don’t have to change my name to Beaumont.” He smiled. “Welcome home.”
“Thanks. It was good to all be together, in the same house, but, whew.” She batted her eyes. “This feels so incredibly good to be home. With you.”
“We’re each other’s home, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, we are. Being away from you was the worst.” She smiled. “And I hated living at Tandy’s. I mean, it was all right. Except for her lumpy mattress and the long drive to school. Not to mention having to check in with two moms all the time about my schedule.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Well, I could have gone to Dad’s. That would have been more comfortable—”
“I don’t mean I’m sorry about Tandy’s. I’m sorry, Jenna. I’m sorry for not discussing with you my decision to reenlist.”
She leaned toward him. “Can you repeat that? I’m not sure I heard correctly.”
He caught her in his arms, turning her until she was across his lap facing him. “Only if you repeat what you said.”
She giggled. “I did not say you are a Marine, present tense.”
“You did.” He pulled her close.
His navy eyes blurred before her. She became acutely aware of how close his mouth was to hers.
“On second thought,” she murmured, “maybe I did.”
“I love you, and I am sorry I hurt you.”
“I love you, and I am sorry I hurt you.”
He brushed his lips over hers. “Does that mean you’ll clean up the kitchen?”
“No way.”
“Jen, I promise to try to talk more about things with you. I’ll try to remember that besides being a Marine—present tense—I’m also your husband, present tense. Will you forgive me for not cluing you in on my decision before I made it?”
She studied his face, drinking in the familiar angles and markings, pushing aside the realization that they still did not agree on what happened. “Cluing” her in on his decision was not exactly all she wanted. They should have discussed the idea for a long, long time. Her opinion should have been given full consideration.
But . . . maybe this was where give-and-take came into play.
“I forgive you, Kevin.”
“Thank you.” He kissed her. “But I might mess up again. Wait. Knowing me, that’s a given.”
She nodded. Of course he would. Of course she would. “That’s life.”
“I mean, I’ll screw up on purpose.”
She pushed back to see his face better.
“Just so we can make up again.”
She watched his lazy grin emerge, one corner of his mouth lifting at a time. The thought struck her that she would not see him for long periods of time. That they would again separate and make up, so to speak.
“Jen, I was kidding. Don’t look so sad.”
“You’re leaving. Because you’re a Marine.”
“Yeah.” He drew the word out, as if he didn’t follow her reasoning. “Not for a while, though. Hey, pretty lady. Will you stick by me, even when I make you sad?”
She saw the worry in his eyes. He feared the unknown future as much as she did. He needed her as much as she needed him.
She said, “I suppose ‘sad’ comes under the category of ‘for better or worse’? Which means I already promised in our wedding vows to stick by you, but I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. You did what you did because you thought I wasn’t sticking by you.”
“But I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you. It all turned out for good. I think we learned a lot about each other, about marriage.”
“Yes.”
“Uh-oh. I just had another thought. Enlisting means a pay cut. You’ll remember the ‘richer or poorer’ part too?”
An almost unbearable weight of sadness pulled the corners of her mouth downward. It had nothing to do with money. She forced a smile and nodded.
Kevin pulled her close again and held her tightly to himself.
For one brief moment, she wondered if the pain of sticking by him would be worth it. If she got up and left right now and never looked back, she would not have to say good-bye and hello, good-bye and hello, over and over and over. She would not have to try to fit into the parameters that defined the incomprehensible being called a “military wife.”
She pressed her face into his shoulder and wondered when life had gotten so hard.
I
n the evening twilight, Max stood on the patio, hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet, appraising the dam-age to his yard and pool.