In Memoriam (17 page)

“Why are you telling me this?” Cara asked.

“It’s just conversation,” he replied.

“Well, stop it, or don’t call me again,” she answered. “I’m not your sounding board when you’re lonely or bored, got it? As a matter of fact, unless you have something to offer me, don’t call me again.”

They’d hung up, and then that morning she heard a knock on her door while she was making coffee. Looking out the window, she saw his car.

“I’ve got something to offer you,” he’d said. And later, when he pushed into her, he said, “There, is that enough? Can I call you again?”

Sex with Dan was amazing. He was affectionate and gentle but wild, grabbing her ass with both hands. He’d ruined sex for her with anyone else. It had taken three years to get over him, and now she’d let him back in.

“What the hell did you do that for?” she asked her reflection. Quickly putting her dressing gown on, she’d shower again after he left. Sitting at the counter drinking coffee when he came back down, she tried to be cool and kind, when she felt used and stupid. It was difficult, but she pulled it off.

“Well, thanks for stopping by,” she said.

“Thanks for having me,” Dan said and then, putting his foot in his mouth, “Six weeks won’t seem so long now.”

Cara didn’t get it at first. “Six weeks for what?” And slowly it sank in. His discomfort, fidgeting like he was looking for something in his pockets spoke volumes when he didn’t answer her.

“Oh, I see. You mean you have to wait to have sex with your wife for six weeks. Get out, Dan. Get out and don’t come back, or I’m going to tell your wife. I might tell her anyway.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, scrambling.

But she was up, pushing him to the door, furious. He looked back as she slammed the door on him.

“You asshole!” she screamed through the closed door. And then she did something he’d never expect of her. She even shocked herself. Running back up the stairs to her bedroom, she got her phone off the nightstand. Although she’d erased the text message, the contact number from Lisa Chua was still there. She pressed on the telephone icon, and the phone began to ring. When the voice mail picked up, she hung up. Leaving a message wasn’t smart; there’d be plenty of opportunities to call back. Pacing, she decided the best revenge against the jerk was to befriend Lisa. She’d get up in his face as often as she could and make him sweat a little.

Pleased with her plan, she got back in the shower for the second time and prepared to start the day over.

Chapter 16

Pam still liked Mondays. The first real day of the week, she had the chance to make restitution for the stupid things she did the week before. She woke up just in time to see the sunrise, trying not to think about what it was like to watch it with Jack. Not everything had to have a connection to Jack.

The pink light peeked over the tops of the drapes, thrilling her, so she sprang out of bed to see. The sky was magenta and bright orange from the horizon, stretching over her house. It was the most amazing display of color; she wished she knew how to paint so she could immortalize it. Then, excitedly, she remembered her phone. Forgetting to check her appearance in the mirror as she did every morning, Pam grabbed her phone and ran out to the dunes in back of her house. One of the last things Brent had done for his mother was to teach her how to use her phone to take pictures. She pressed through the menu until she got to the camera and aimed it at the sky, pressing the photo button. So pleased with the results, she didn’t realize someone was observing her as she looked at the picture until she heard her name being called.

“Mrs. Smith?”

Pam looked up, forgetting that she’d run outside with her pajamas and no makeup on. He was the handsome, white-haired fellow she’d seen on the beach the day before.

“Yes?” she answered, a little concerned. She stepped forward, away from the unlocked door. If he meant to do her harm, he’d have to do it in broad daylight, not push her back into her house.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said, stepping over to the wooden walkway. “I’m Jason Bridges. Jeff Babcock is my brother-in-law. My former brother-in-law. But we’re still close friends. He’s been meaning to introduce us, but we’re never here at the same time.”

Pam remembered the state she was in and put her hands up to her face. “Oh my, you’ll have to excuse me; I ran out without even combing my hair! Wait right here, and I’ll be back in five minutes.” She ran back to the house, remembering to lock the inside veranda door just in case the guy was a murderer.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” she sang as she ran to the bathroom. “Oh no!” She looked in the mirror at her cockeyed ponytail and pale face. Grabbing her toothbrush, she brushed her teeth and then washed her face.
If he waits, he’s interested. If he leaves, he’s not.
She didn’t put on full war paint, just powder, lipstick, and some eyeliner. Her hair was hopeless, so she neatened up the ponytail and put a straw hat on. She picked gauze pants and shirt, her favored outfit for the beach on days she was home alone. In less than five, she was back outside, tying her straw hat under her chin, seeing that he was waiting patiently for her.

Outstretching her hand, she smiled at him. “Jason, Jeff mentioned to me that he had someone he wanted me to meet. I’d just rolled out of bed and wanted to get a picture of this beautiful sunrise. I never come out in public looking like that, so the one time in my life I do, well, you get the picture.” She was so embarrassed that she yammered on and on about her appearance, and he was so kind, listening and smiling at her.

“I am so sorry that I thought I could interrupt you at seven in the morning! You looked lovely for having just gotten out of bed,” he said.

Pam started laughing, completely at ease. “Whew! That was close, then! What if you thought I looked terrible?” she said, teasing. “Would you like to walk the beach with me?”

“Of course,” he answered. “That sounds perfect.”

She needed coffee but wasn’t keen on inviting him inside just yet. What if he’d dropped Jeff’s name just to get inside the house? She realized she was acting like a paranoid old woman. If they had anything left to talk about after they walked, she’d invite him in for coffee.

“I usually start walking north,” she said.

“North it is,” Jason answered. They walked for miles north, talking about how they spent their time.

“We better turn around,” Pam said when she noticed how far they’d gone. “We can’t get beyond the causeway without taking our life in our hands.”

They headed south, walking in silence for a while.

“I’ve talked the whole time,” Jason said, embarrassed. “Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know? I’ve lived a rather boring life.”

“Well, I know you’ve lived here for a long time. I actually came to one of your Memorial Day parties with Jeff right after my wife died.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry about your wife,” Pam replied.

“Thank you. She’d been sick for a while, so it was a bittersweet time. I don’t want to say it was a blessing when she died, but she’d suffered for a while. I think the most difficult thing for her was that she had unfinished projects that meant a lot to her.”

“How long ago did she die?”

“It’s been almost six years,” Jason answered.

Hearing about his wife made Pam sick. She was shocked at her response, too. What was it about the woman’s story that affected her so intensely? “What was her name?” she choked out.

“Emily. Gosh, I haven’t talked about her in such a long time, it feels strange. I buried it; do you know what I mean?”

“Yes, unfortunately, I do,” she replied.

They walked in silence for a while. Pam felt so depressed and sad. If she died tomorrow, Lisa would be the only thing she’d care about leaving behind. Emily Bridges had so much to do that she didn’t want to die without finishing.

“Do you have children?” she asked.

“Yes, four. Two of each. They’re grown and gone with families of their own,” he answered gently. “Have I upset you?”

“Yes,” she answered honestly. “But probably not for the reasons you’re thinking. I’m upset because your wife had such an interesting, full life that she didn’t want to leave it unfinished. That both intrigues me and devastates me.”

She bent over to pick up another piece of glass. “You probably don’t know this, but I lost my son a year ago.”

He grabbed her hand. “I do know, and I’m so sorry. I’m especially sorry that my story about Em made you sad. It was very inconsiderate of me.”

“Not at all, Jason. I think the reason your wife’s story is making me sad is that my
own
life is so empty that I don’t care if I die tomorrow. My daughter is the only thing in the world that I would hate to leave behind, and she and I have a strained relationship now, so I’m not sure she would even care.” The idea that she’d just blurted out the terrible truth about her and Lisa to a complete stranger shocked her.
What is wrong with me?

“I am so sorry,” he said again. “I’ve had my ups and downs with our kids, so I get what you’re saying. Finally, I’ve decided they are grown up and making their own way. It doesn’t make much difference what I say or do now; the damage, so to speak, is already done once they leave home.”

“Boy, have you got that right,” Pam replied. Maybe every family had their secrets. She’d lived in denial for so long, trying to project the perfect life, that she had no idea if other families struggled.

“My middle boy, Aaron, is a drug addict,” Jason admitted.

Pam didn’t think she could handle any more bad news, but now that he’d opened up about it, she didn’t see how she could shut him up. Maybe it was hopeless to think she’d ever meet a man she was compatible with again. She certainly didn’t want one who had so many sad tales to tell.

“The only good thing about it is that he lives in L.A. and never comes back east. Out of sight, out of mind.”

“I pretend my son is still alive,” Pam blurted out, doing one-upmanship. “He went to college in Pasadena, so I just pretend he’s still there. It’s easier than facing what really happened to him.”

“Where does your daughter live?”

Pam told him about Lisa losing her husband the day before Brent was murdered, marrying Pam’s old boyfriend, and having his baby two days ago. Then she laughed. “Can you top that?”

Jason guffawed. “No, ma’am, I cannot top that. I think you win,” he said, laughing.

Pam felt delightfully free. A stranger knew all her secrets, well, just about all of them, and gravity still held her down to earth. She was afraid she might float away if she spoke of the dark pit out of which she’d been trying to climb.

“Oh, look! Red glass,” she said, squatting down to dig it out of the sand.

He bent over to look at it with her. “It’s such a tiny piece,” he said. “How do you keep from losing it?”

“I keep it all together in my kitchen with other treasures,” she answered. “This will go on a little square of mirror where I keep all the red glass.” She’d forgotten to bring a bag with her, so she put it in the breast pocket of her shirt.

“I have to remember I have it.” Looking up, she saw the weathervane in the distance, on top of her house. It was almost lunchtime, and Pam still hadn’t had morning coffee. She still wasn’t sure about inviting him in when he invited her instead.

“Would you like to come back to the house for coffee?”

“I’d love it.” Walking to Jeff Babcock’s beach house, they would spend the rest of the day talking and getting to know each other.

~ ~ ~

Sandra put baby Brent’s car seat into the back of Tom’s squad car after they had the DNA swabs done at a lab. She could tell the staff at the doctor’s office was dying of curiosity when she arrived to pick up the referral slip, but she was not divulging a thing to satisfy them.

The baby was cooing to her as she pulled the buckle over the seat. “We’re going to work,” she sang to him.

Although he’d made no decisions yet, Sandra wondered how Tom was going to do damage control with his family if the baby turned out to be his after all. It both annoyed her and titillated her. On one hand, Gwen Adams was a pain in the ass with her runner’s body and two dozen donuts every Sunday morning. It didn’t take Sandra long to figure out what she was up to; it was sabotage, pure and simple. She surrounded everyone with fattening, sugar-laden foods, knowing she was going to run a half-marathon later in the day and burn it all off. Sandra had stayed long and lean, even when she was nine months pregnant.

“Boy, your girlfriend is sure in good shape for being ready to hatch,” John Adams had remarked to Tom.

Gwen perked right up hearing it. “Make sure she isn’t purging.”

Tom frowned. “What would make you say a thing like that?” he asked, laughing. “She doesn’t have any problems with food or
with exercise.
” Hopefully, she’d get the hint.

While Sandra buckled the baby seat in the backseat, Tom stood behind her, holding the door open. “Do you need help?”

“No, I’ve got it,” she said.

He was watching her ass bobbing around, trying to remember the last time they did it. Why had he acted like such a jerk? He’d tortured himself, trying to overcome his behavior. She backed out of the car, bumping into him. She turned and looked up at him, and he was grinning down at her, clearly in her space on purpose.

“Ah, excuse me,” she said, smiling. “You certainly are a little fresh today.”

He grabbed her arms again and pulled her up to him. “I miss you,” he said huskily. “Let me back in your bed.”

“All in good time, Tom. You might never speak to me again when the test results come back, and I don’t want to regret one more thing.” A couple walked toward them. “We have company.”

He let her go and looked over his shoulder. “I promise to speak to you. I’m feeling more and more like I need to get therapy and be a father to both kids, no matter what.”

“Tom, that is so generous of you, but we have to be realistic. Let’s just wait. The lab tech said four days. We can wait until Friday, can’t we?”

“Oh god, I
guess
so. I won’t sleep.”