Dreams for Stones (10 page)

Once I made that decision, I discovered I
had a whole raft of dreams that would never come true if I stayed
in Red Oak. Dreams of travel and of meeting people who did other
things for a living besides farm. Dreams of hearing music played by
a hundred instruments instead of the single rickety piano in our
parlor. And dreams of seeing paintings, full of color, hanging on
cool white walls.

Getting on that train to go to Omaha for the
teachers’ certification course was the most thrilling thing I’d
done in my whole life.

After the course, I taught in Ames for five
years, saving every penny I could, because I knew what I wanted to
do next. Study art.

Lucky for me, when Bill finished his studies
at Creighton, he moved to Chicago where he was teaching at a high
school.

The day I arrived there for my art studies,
he met me at the train. He had a young woman with him. She had
curly black hair and dark eyes. Her name was Kiara Sullivan.

I saw the way Bill’s face changed when he
looked at Kiara, and I knew right away they were more than friends.
Then that evening, when Bill and Kiara came to take me to dinner,
Bill brought along one of the other teachers to be my escort. His
name was Jess Kowalski.

I went to bed that night thinking what an
amazing day it had been. There was the excitement of arriving in
Chicago and seeing Bill again, of course. But even more exciting,
was meeting Kiara and Jess. From the very first, I knew they were
going to be an important part of my life.

And so they were.

Bill and Kiara married in late summer, and
Jess escorted me to the wedding. Then, after we’d already made it
past the darkest, coldest part of the following winter, Kiara fell
ill. It was shortly after she discovered she and Bill were
expecting a baby.

At first we all thought she had a bad cold
overlaid with morning sickness, but the doctor came out of Bill and
Kiara’s room looking grave. She had pneumonia.

We took her to the hospital, and I kept
telling myself and Bill she was going to be fine.

Only she wasn’t.

I had to stop writing yesterday to have a good cry. I miss Kiara
something fierce. She was the best sister a girl could ever hope to
have. Being happy with Jess, well sometimes I feel so terrible sad
for Bill.

After Kiara died, it was a hard time, even
though Jess and I had fallen in love and had begun to plan our life
together. We got married that next summer, and shortly after that,
Jess came home to say we were moving to Cincinnati.

My biggest concern was leaving Bill, but it
was such a wonderful opportunity for Jess to teach at Xavier
University. We just couldn’t turn it down.

I surely do miss Bill, and I worry about
him.

Here in Cincinnati, we have a big house,
bigger than I ever dreamed I would have, and a huge yard. On the
weekends, Jess puts up fencing and clears out the woods while I put
in a vegetable garden and plant flowers.

It is the perfect home for all the children
we plan to have.

Kathy shut the small book and placed it on
her bedside table, wiping moisture from her eyes. Emily’s joy at
the thought of the children she hoped to have always made Kathy
want to cry.

But maybe that was exactly what she needed
from Emily tonight. Permission to cry.

When Kathy arrived at Calico Cat Books on Monday morning, she found
Grace waiting in the hallway. The other woman was wearing as much
makeup as she had on Saturday, and she pulled Kathy into a hug,
then stepped back, grinning. “
Mira
. I thought this would be
better than putting it in the mail.”

Kathy stifled her instinctive response—an
oh, good grief—
as her good manners reasserted themselves.
But, after all, it was hard to take offense at someone so
spontaneously affectionate. She gestured for Grace to come in.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“No, no.
Gracias
. I don’t want to
take any more of your time.” Grace handed Kathy the large envelope,
then backed toward the door.

Since she was in the middle of an edit with
a deadline looming, Kathy didn’t urge Grace to stay. “I don’t know
exactly when I’ll have time to look at it. Don’t worry if you don’t
hear for a while.”

“
Está bien
. Take your time.” Grace
grabbed Kathy’s hand and shook it. “
Gracias
. Thank you so
much.”

Kathy ushered Grace out, went to her desk,
and set the envelope containing Grace’s manuscript to one side. She
hadn’t been happy when Alan maneuvered her into talking to Grace in
the first place, and the personal delivery of the offending
manuscript simply compounded that sin.

Jade looked over from the desk next to
Kathy’s. “What’s up?”

Kathy grimaced. “An aspiring author.”

“Well that much, I figured.”

“I met her this weekend at my riding lesson.
I told her to send me something. I just didn’t expect her to hand
deliver it.”

“At least she didn’t stay long,” Jade
said.

Kathy went to work, but the envelope kept
catching her eye.
It rhymes, and it’s a mix of English and
Spanish
. So it could be the worst thing she’d ever read. Or. .
. it could be just the kind of book Calico was seeking.

By lunch, the envelope had taken on the
character of a present, wrapped and waiting under a Christmas tree.
And the suspense was killing Kathy. Eventually she could no longer
deny the urge to take a look.

She pulled the pages out and, setting aside
the cover letter, began to read.

High in the Andes, in the
verde
folds

of valleys mid
montañas

La familia Tocado
lived peacefully raising

chickens, children,
y llamas

She stopped and went back to the beginning,
this time reading out loud. With growing excitement she finished
the first page and then the first chapter. There were thirty pages
of manuscript, and she flew through them. When she finished, she
sat back, her face stretched in a wide grin.

It was wonderful.

Jade’s eyebrows rose in twin arcs. “You
know, some places would call in the guys in the white coats for a
person who mutters to herself and smiles at nothing.”

Kathy doused the grin. “Take a look at
something for me?”

“Sure.”

“Right now?”

Jade shrugged. “Why not? It’s a slow
day.”

Kathy knew Jade was busy, but she was too
anxious to get Jade’s response to feel guilty about it. She handed
over the pages.

“This the hand-delivered manuscript?”

“The very one.”

Jade took the pages and swiveled her chair
so her back was to Kathy. Kathy watched that back as Jade began to
read. After the first two pages, Jade straightened abruptly and
turned to look at Kathy. “Is it all like this?”

“Actually, it gets better.”

Jade’s lips twitched. “I think you’ve got a
hot one, kid. But you already knew that.”

Kathy let the feeling of delight grow and
spread. She did know Grace’s story was good, but having Jade say it
made it real. “Yeah. I almost blew her off, you know.”

Jade gave her a questioning look.

“I don’t like the person who introduced
us.”

Jade laughed. “I’d say, in this case, it’s a
good thing you let your good manners get the better of you.”

Kathy had meant to mail the payment for the riding lesson to Alan
Francini on the way to work, but she was out of stamps. And now she
faced a dilemma, because she no longer owed him a simple payment
for a riding lesson. She owed him a thank-you for referring Grace
and
Verde Mountains
to her.

Polly and Columba had looked at the
manuscript and quickly agreed it was precisely the kind of book
they were looking for to add to Calico’s bilingual list.

By the end of the day, Kathy had the
go-ahead to contact Grace and make an offer.

That was the easy part, although all she’d
gotten when she called Grace was an answering machine. More
difficult was deciding what to do about the thank-you she owed
Alan.

That uncertainty nudged at her all
afternoon. She finally decided she’d stop by his office on her way
to the library. If he was still there, she’d thank him. If he
wasn’t—which was the more likely scenario—she’d write a note,
append it to the check, and leave it under his door.

Once she made that decision, the nudgy voice
shut up, and she was able to get back to work.

Kathy didn’t arrive at DSU until after six, but she found Alan’s
light still on and his door ajar.
Darn
. She’d been so sure
she wouldn’t have to actually face him, she’d already written the
note. She hesitated, trying to decide what to do.

Coward. Wuss.

No, she wasn’t. She could do this. No
biggie. Just a few words, hand over the check, and leave. Then
she’d make sure she avoided his vicinity in the future.

She lifted her hand and hesitated before
forcing herself to knock. At his “come in,” she pulled the door
open, her heart beating quickly, her palms beginning to sweat.

He was sitting tipped back in his chair,
reading a manuscript, with a fierce scowl on his face.

“That bad, huh?” she said.

He looked up, his feet came off the desk
with a thump, and he set the papers down. “Student essays.” He
cocked his head, his expression questioning.

“I forgot to pay you Saturday. For the
riding lesson.” She stepped closer and held the check out to
him.

He stared at her hand for a moment, as if he
couldn’t quite understand she meant for him to take it. Then he
waved it away. “Keep it. You got only a partial lesson,
anyway.”

“I still got a full complement of sore
muscles.” She let the hand holding the check drop to her side.
She’d slide it on his desk when he wasn’t looking.

He shrugged, giving her a slight smile. “You
have to ride regularly before you get over that.”

“Yes. Well. I only planned on one
lesson.”

“Why?” He looked as if it were inconceivable
anyone could possibly be satisfied riding only once. But probably,
as far as he was concerned, it was.

“It was research.”

“Research?”

“I’m writing a novel. One of the characters
pushed me into it.”

“Oh. That explains it.”

She thought his look was patronizing, and it
annoyed her. “Hasn’t one of your characters ever pushed you into
anything?”

“Not lately.” His voice was suddenly flat,
his face blank.

Feeling uneasy, she spoke quickly. “Speaking
of writing, I owe you for sending Grace our way. Her book is
wonderful. We’re going to publish it.”

He raised his eyebrows in apparent
astonishment. “That was fast.”

She found herself meeting his eyes. Deep
brown but with a sadness in their depths that pulled at her. She
shook off a feeling of sympathy. She was definitely
over-interpreting, likely a result of Grace saying she thought he
was lonely.

“She hand-delivered the manuscript this
morning.”

“Sounds like Grace.” He smiled, breaking eye
contact, and fiddled with a pencil.

She liked the smile. She wondered if she
could get him to do it again. “You know, Calico doesn’t pay finders
fees, but I think they’d spring for dinner. How about it? A dinner.
To thank you for referring Grace.” Now where had that come from,
the invitation tumbling out before she could stop it? Not
attraction. More like desperation. She
really
didn’t like
the feeling of being in debt to this man.

He sat back and examined her over steepled
fingers. “You afraid of horses?”

Was this the latest way to let a person down
easy? Ignore the invitation? Annoyed, she spoke crisply. “Let’s
just say I had an unhappy experience with one, and it skewed my
opinion of the entire species.”

“Must be one gem of a character to have
pushed you into another encounter.”

“Actually, Amanda’s an idiot. I’m deleting
her.”

He shook his head, looking serious, but his
eyes gleamed with humor. “Not going to work.”

Was he laughing at her? “How do you know
that?”

He gave her a knowing, superior look. “If a
character’s got the
cojones
to push his creator into doing
something the creator would never do otherwise, he’s got the
cojones
to hang on.”

She shook her head, her mouth twitching
without her permission into a smile, surprised to realize she was
enjoying the interaction. “As far as I know,
cojones
are not
part of Amanda’s equipment.”

“Make you a deal,” he said, outwardly
serious again. “I’ll go to dinner with you, if you come back for
another riding lesson. I think you’re going to need it to handle
Amanda.”

She thought about his suggestion as she
looked around his office. It was bare, as if he were only a
temporary tenant. She remembered once again Grace’s diagnosis.
Lonely
. Pushed the thought away, still considering.

A riding lesson to go along with dinner.
What would it hurt? And he was probably right, another lesson might
help. Besides, she’d enjoyed that first lesson. Had even thought
she might enjoy doing it again. . . only not at TapDancer. But,
after all, why not?

“Okay. Deal. I don’t suppose you like Indian
food, do you? Or Chinese. Or maybe Italian?” Really, it would have
been so much better if she’d given this whole thing more thought.
Spontaneity. Not all it was cracked up to be.

“Indian would be fine,” he said, stopping
the useless spinning of her thoughts.

“You’re sure? A lot of people don’t like it.
And that’s okay. It doesn’t have to be Indian.” And why couldn’t
she stop babbling?

He, if anything, was looking more relaxed.
He leaned back, his hands lying loose in his lap, watching her.
“Indian’s fine.”