Dreams for Stones (21 page)

Cormac squirmed and, whining softly, reached
up and swiped a tongue at Alan’s face, catching him on the nose. He
sucked in a breath, then stood up.

Elaine stepped closer and laid a hand on his
arm. “I love you, Alan, and I can’t stand by watching you continue
this way.”

Cormac stuck his head between them,
demanding Alan continue to play with him. Rubbing Cormac’s head,
Alan moved away from Elaine’s touch.

“Alan. . . Please. There are things that can
help you.”

“Don’t.” He bit off the word, took a breath,
and tried to speak calmly. “You can stop worrying. I’m fine.”

“Fine? You think you’re fine? How can you
think that? You abandoned that child, Alan. Where’s the ‘fine’ in
that?”

Not Delia. He hadn’t abandoned her. But he
had abandoned Kathy. He dragged in a ragged breath.

When did it end? Being half alive.

“I know you loved Meg,” Elaine said, a catch
in her voice. “But you can’t spend your life mourning her. You do
that, you might as well have died too.”

Yeah. Without Meg he was as good as dead
anyway. He stared blindly at the lake.

“You’re dishonoring Meg’s memory.”

He turned abruptly and walked away.

“And you’re turning into a sour,
disgruntled, ugly person no one is going to want to be around.”
Elaine began to cry. “You have to stop it, Alan. Please stop
it.”

Why couldn’t she understand? He would stop
it, if he could figure out how. He took a quick hitch on the girth,
swung into the saddle, and kicked Sonoro into a lope.

Running away. From Elaine. From the meadow
and its tiny lake. And from the memory of a cool, bright morning
that had dawned so hopefully and ended so hopelessly.

“This weekend’s supposed to be beautiful,” Charles said, slowing to
a walk as he and Kathy finished their run. “We could go to the zoo,
if that isn’t too dorky a suggestion for you.”

“I love the zoo. But I already have a date
to go there.” She didn’t know why, but sometimes an urge to tease
Charles just came over her. “You could join us if you like.”

“Wouldn’t want to horn in.” His tone was
stilted.

“No. Really. I mean it. It’s time you met
Delia.”

“Delia?”

“The person I promised my Saturday to. She’s
almost six going on sixteen.”

He wiped a hand across his mouth. “You have
a daughter?” Did his voice sound odd or was that her
imagination?

“She’s the daughter of a friend. But Delia
and I are best buddies. Why don’t you come with us?”

He hesitated another moment before he
answered. “Sure. Okay.”

Kathy glanced sideways at him, but Charles
was taking a drink from his water bottle, so she couldn’t see if he
looked as uncertain as he sounded.

“There’s something you need to know. Delia
just got out of the hospital. She was terribly sick, and she’s
still pretty weak.” Then Kathy took a breath and said the hard
part. “And it left her deaf.”

He was momentarily silent. “I, uh, don’t
know any sign language.”

“That’s okay. We’re all just learning. Can
you be at my place at ten thirty?”

“Sure.”

When they parted, Kathy watched Charles walk
to his car, thinking how odd it had been—Charles sounding unsure
about spending time with a little girl versus a big girl.

Saturday at the Garibaldis’, Kathy introduced Charles to Grace.

“
Mira
. Come on in. Frank’s getting
Delia dressed.”

They stepped inside as Delia came down the
hall with her father. Delia’s eyes lit up, and she rushed up to
Kathy, giving her a fierce hug.

After introducing Charles to Frank, Kathy
turned to Delia and, using gestures, spoke slowly. “This is my
friend, Charles.”

Delia gave Charles a solemn look, then
extended her hand and said, “Hello.”

Charles looked startled, but he recovered
quickly and took her tiny hand in his large one. Kathy’s heart
squeezed with pain at the memory that evoked of the way Delia and
Alan always greeted each other. She pushed the thought away. It
belonged to the past.

Later, as they wandered around the zoo,
Delia and Kathy practiced signs, and Charles joined in. Watching
Delia make a sign, Kathy was amazed, as she had been from the
first, at how quickly Delia was adapting to the loss of her
hearing. Much more quickly than the adults. Delia was learning to
read lips when people spoke slowly and, while Kathy’s signs felt
awkward and slow, Delia’s were already quick and fluid in spite of
her shortened fingers.

“Grace Garibaldi,” Charles said, as Delia
watched the polar bear swim. “I’m trying to think where I’ve seen
her before.”

“Grace wrote a children’s book. The
Post
had an article about it recently with her picture.”

“Umm. That could be it.”

Kathy glanced at him and saw that he had a
preoccupied look. But when he turned and saw her staring, he
smiled. “Can you teach me how to ask Delia if she’s hungry?”

They took a ride on the miniature train.
After that, it was obvious Delia was tired. Charles gave her a
piggy-back ride to the car. He set her down and moved his hands the
way Kathy had shown him.

Delia laughed in delight at his clumsy
signs, then nodded an emphatic yes.

Charles turned to Kathy. “I don’t know how
to ask her what she’d like to eat.”

“Not necessary. We always go the same place.
The café at the Tattered Cover Book Store. Then if she’s not too
tired, we look at books.”

“You didn’t mind having Delia with us, did you?” Kathy asked
Charles after they’d dropped Delia at home after lunch.

“She’s a cute kid. I enjoyed it. . . a lot.”
He sounded surprised.

Kathy was relieved Charles and Delia had
gotten along. Given the way he’d reacted to her first mention of
the little girl, she had wondered if he didn’t like children. But
he’d treated Delia with the same care and affection Alan did.

Alan. She was through thinking about him.
Wasn’t she?

The phone rang at Calico. The caller, a woman, asked to speak to
Kathy.

“My name is Elaine Francini-Galt. I believe.
. . that is I think you know my brother, Alan?”

Surprise, quickly followed by dread and a
mélange of awful images, almost cut off Kathy’s breath. “Is he. . .
all right?”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. Sorry. I-I hope it’s
okay I called. I need to see you. To talk to you.”

Kathy loosened her grip on the phone. “I
don’t understand.”

“Please. Meet with me and I’ll explain.”

After she hung up, Kathy sat for a time, her
heart still beating too fast, thinking about it. The strangeness of
Elaine wanting to see her, and her own panic in that first moment
when she thought Elaine was calling to tell her something had
happened to Alan.

When she arrived at the restaurant Elaine had chosen for the
meeting, Kathy knew immediately the woman sitting in the corner had
to be Elaine. Her resemblance to Alan was unmistakable.

Clamping down on the flight of butterflies
taking off in her stomach, Kathy greeted Elaine as she slid into
the seat across from her. Seeing the other woman had a glass of
wine, Kathy ordered one as well.

Close up, Elaine’s resemblance to Alan was
even more startling, and it made Kathy feel like crying.
Ridiculous, of course. She was over Alan. Still, if that were true,
why had she agreed to this meeting, and why did she still wake up
at night, her chest tight with the memory of weeping?

“Sorry I’m late.” Kathy said. “A phone call
ran long, but I didn’t know how to reach you, to let you know.”

“Here, let me give you my card.” Elaine
pulled a holder out of her purse as the waitress set a glass of
white wine in front of Kathy.

Kathy paid for her drink then accepted the
card from Elaine.

Elaine Francini-Galt, PhD

Clinical
Psychologist

The busyness of getting out the card had
camouflaged Elaine’s nervousness, but now it hit Kathy in waves—the
lip biting, the flickering glances, the fidgety hands. Not that
Kathy was feeling all that calm and cool herself.

“Thank you for coming.” Elaine’s voice was
jerky. After a quick glance at Kathy, she stared at her wineglass
as if it were a teleprompter that had just failed.

Kathy waited. Finally, Elaine took a breath
and looked up, her eyes full of distress. “I wanted to see you. To
ask why. . . why you’re no longer coming to the ranch.”

Kathy drew in a quick, surprised breath, but
because of the misery in Elaine’s eyes, she spoke gently. “You need
to ask Alan that.”

“He won’t talk to me.” Elaine looked down at
her wine, blinking rapidly. “Please. I don’t usually do this sort
of thing, but I really need to know. Was it your choice? To stop
seeing him.”

Kathy looked away from Elaine, struggling
with a mix of feelings. There was no easy answer. She may have
chosen, but only after Alan made it impossible for her to choose
otherwise.

“It’s just. You’re the first woman he’s
spent time with since—” Elaine stopped speaking and swiped at her
eyes while Kathy tried to figure out the missing part of that
statement. The first woman he’d spent time with since. . .
what?

“Did he ever mention Meg to you?”

“Meg?” The single syllable took all Kathy’s
effort.

“His wife.”

Kathy stared at Elaine, letting the words
sink in and take on weight and substance. Alan married. An answer
of sorts. Not that it should matter any longer. But it did
somehow.

“So he’s married.” She shivered and wrapped
her arms around herself.

“No. You don’t understand—”

“Why?” Kathy’s voice caught, and the word
came out as a whisper. But after that one word, she had no idea
what came next, what was left to know.

Feeling dizzy, she closed her eyes, but it
only made the vertigo intensify. Why was Elaine asking questions?
She’d done her job. Told Kathy Alan was off limits. But since
Elaine also knew they were no longer seeing each other, what was
the point?

“She died. Meg did.”

Kathy’s eyes snapped open, and she stared at
Elaine, feeling whipsawed, trying desperately to fit it all
together.

“Five years ago. We thought when you started
coming to the ranch. . . We all thought, maybe. . . ” Elaine
focused on her wineglass as she rolled it back and forth between
her hands.

Kathy took a breath to steady her voice.
“Why are you telling me?” And why hadn’t Alan told her? They’d been
friends, after all. He could have just said it, that night in the
garden, or the time they went to the lake, or the day in the barn.
But maybe he’d tried...
You don’t understand...

Elaine’s eyes glittered with tears. “We used
to be so close. I miss him so much. Last fall and this spring were.
. . better.” She stifled a sob, then sat clutching her arms. “I’m
sorry. I didn’t mean to. . . ” She stopped, her lips trembling.
Then she loosened her arms and leaned her elbows on the table, her
hands covering her face as she sobbed.

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t though. Nothing was
okay about any of this. And watching Elaine weep, Kathy wanted to
weep as well. But her tears seemed to be as frozen as her
emotions.

“I’m sorry.” She reached out and laid a hand
on Elaine’s arm, waiting while the other woman took deep steadying
breaths.

Elaine raised her head and, again, her
resemblance to Alan took Kathy’s breath away. Only this time, the
resemblance was to Alan as he’d looked that last day, with haunted
eyes and sharp lines of pain etched in his face.

It hurt to look at Elaine, and it hurt to
breathe. “I’m sorry,” Kathy said again.

“No. I am. I had no right.” Elaine’s mouth
quivered, and she took a careful breath. “Grabbing at straws.
Stupid. I know better. I just thought, or didn’t think. Not your
fault.” She scrubbed at her eyes.

Kathy wondered how Meg had died, but it
wasn’t something she could ask. She sat waiting until Elaine
stopped crying, then she stood, trying to come up with something
more to say, but there was nothing. Nothing that could lift the
sorrow that filled both their hearts. She reached out to touch
Elaine, but pulled her hand back and spoke brief, conventional
words of farewell instead.

Outside the restaurant, she took a deep
breath and looked toward the mountains. As she watched, the sun
slid behind the clouds piled on top of purple peaks. When it
reached a small gap and blazed through, it dazzled her, startling
her back into motion.

Getting into her car, she glanced at the
clock. Only six thirty. And yet it seemed as if hours had passed
since she sat down across from Elaine.

She started the car and waited for a break
in traffic to turn onto Colorado Boulevard, trying to push away the
conversation with Elaine and focus on her driving, telling herself
to stop when lights turned red, to start again on green.

By the time she arrived back at the
Costellos’, she knew there was no way she could walk into the
kitchen and answer cheerful questions about her day while Mrs. C
bustled about reheating her dinner.

Instead, she parked the car, got out, and
turned in the opposite direction, toward Cheesman Park, to the
white pavilion on the eastern edge that looked like a Greek temple.
She picked a spot on the steps well away from the scattering of
people and sat down, leaning forward, resting her elbows on her
knees.

The clouds had thinned, and the sun cast a
golden sheen over trees, grass, and people. She watched a man
playing Frisbee with his dog as the sounds of cars, an occasional
burst of music from a radio, the yelp of the dog, and fragments of
conversation blurred together, into silence.