ROAR (46 page)

“I doubt I’ll remember anything.”

“No worries.” Not wanting to take the fantasy any further now, he said, “I wasn’t much into sports, either, but I spent a couple seasons on the wrestling team as well.”

“Seriously?”

“Why would I lie about something that important?”

“I just find it a coincidence. Any other activities I should know about?”

“In addition to the investment and chess clubs—yeah, I was one of those—I developed my passion for sailing in high school. A friend of mine owned a sailboat.”

“When’s the last time you sailed?”

“Probably in high school. Gunnar didn’t have a boat.” He glanced at the photos again. “I’d say you must have had some kind of athletic ability if you made all those teams, whether varsity or not.”

She shrugged. “I did it mostly to make Dad happy.”

He turned to her. “But not for you?”

She shook her head.
How sad was that?

“Anyway, I came in to tell you dessert’s ready.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and walked with her to join her mother in the dining area.

*     *     *

“You’re going to love these cupcakes, Kristoffer. Thanks again for remembering, Mom!”

The chocolate-raspberry flavored Bundtlets were piped with sour-cream icing and always her must-have treat during a visit with Mom in Carmel.

They sat, she and Kristoffer, side by side across the table from her mom. Out of Mom’s eyesight, he squeezed Pamela’s knee, and she smiled at him.

“Sunshine’s great in the kitchen, unlike me.” Pamela cringed to see Kristoffer’s smile as he heard her nickname for the second time. Would she be hearing it again—from him?

“She’s also methodical, whether working on a recipe or a surgical procedure,” Mom added.

Pamela flushed, wishing Mom would find some other topic of conversation than bragging on her daughter. Next thing she knew, Mom would be bringing out the photo albums and showing her life in agonizingly incremental detail. Actually, she’d been surprised to see some of those photos displayed on the bookshelf. They hadn’t been there the last time she visited. She’d always been puzzled why Mom kept her childhood photos anyway, but, oddly enough, it made her feel special, too.

“I just like order in my life, Mom.” Pamela hadn’t been able to maintain control in her childhood so she made up for that in her career and adult life.

“You take after your dad in that regard.” While Mom’s words weren’t said in a bitter way, Pamela didn’t want to talk about Dad behind his back.

“What brought you to California, Maribeth?”

Kristoffer’s question took Pamela off guard. Had he forgotten what she’d told him about her mom? No, he never forgot anything she said as best she could tell. He must be trying to steer the conversation away from Pamela. She beamed at him to show her appreciation.

Mom’s hand had stopped midway to her mouth with a forkful of cupcake. She glanced at Pamela before setting the fork down. Pamela’s heart pounded. Would she reveal anything more about herself than what Pamela already knew, which was so limited?

“I was raised just north of San Francisco. I inherited this house from a maiden aunt at a time I needed a place to…live, so it became my…haven.” Why was she choosing her words so carefully? Pamela did know Mom met Dad in northern California, but not about her great-aunt’s bequest.

Mom continued. “I’ve come to love this area. I’m working now at a center in Salinas Valley that provides services to migrant families. Keeping middle-school girls in this after-school program motivated and away from drugs and gang violence is a challenge, but rewarding.”

“When did you start doing that, Mom?” She hadn’t heard her mention it before, but Mom had always had large gaps in her life unknown to Pamela.

Her mother picked at a dog hair or something on her slacks before turning her gaze to Pamela again. “Six months ago.” Pamela had noticed her mom seemed more relaxed and content now than she had during her last visit. Was her new job responsible for the change? Whatever the reason, Pamela was happy about it.

“Enough about me. Tell me, Sunshine, how have you been feeling? You scared me to death when you told me you’d caught some kind of rare fever.”

“Not rare in that part of the world, only difficult to diagnose under the primitive circumstances. But I’m fine now.”

Pamela told her mother about the medical-equipment project she and Kristoffer were working on, which morphed into talk about Heidi’s school for Afghani girls and Fakhira’s imminent arrival in the States for further surgery. They then launched into a lengthy discussion about the deplorable plight of girls in that region of the world and made comparisons to some of the conditions faced by immigrant girls here.

“Among other things I do at the youth center in Salinas is lead a book club once a week. We recently read and discussed Malala’s remarkable story of courage against the Taliban. The Mexican-American girls felt empowered by her story and her choosing to face unthinkable dangers in the quest for an education for her and other Muslim girls. I think they began seeing parallels between their lives and hers and are making some connections as to what might be possible for them if they pursue their educational goals.”

She and her mom hadn’t talked about anything that mattered this much in a long time. Sharing a common interest made Pamela feel a bond with her mom she’d rarely experienced since her childhood.

Mom grew pensive, though, and the conversation ended as they finished eating their enormous cupcakes. Kristoffer, who hadn’t been talking as much, finished first. “Dessert was delicious, Maribeth. Thank you.”

“I can’t take the credit.”

He laughed. “I have several restaurants on speed dial myself. Knowing which ones are good takes a certain knack, too.” They smiled at each other in understanding before he turned toward Pamela. “I have to agree your daughter’s cooking is fabulous. I don’t rely on takeout as often as I once did.”

“Tell me, Kristoffer, what is it you do?” Maribeth asked.

“I’m the chief financial officer for a government contractor. Basically, I find ways to make money so that the CEO and his team can carry out their missions.”

“Contractors? Does that include military involvement like Blackwater in Iraq?” Pamela heard the edge in Mom’s voice. That her mother kept up with what had happened in Iraq didn’t surprise her, but the sudden tension between the two of them did.

Kristoffer laughed off her concern. “Today’s contractors are under much more scrutiny, I assure you. You wouldn’t believe the amount of regulations and paperwork involved these days.”

Mom remained silent a moment before relaxing her shoulders again. Even though she smiled, Pamela saw strain on her face. “You both sound equally committed to humanitarian work. I like that.”

“Kristoffer’s cousin runs the firm and is doing some wonderful things in Afghanistan, Mom. He’s making a difference. If not for his generosity, Fakhira, the girl I told you about, wouldn’t be coming to the States for more advanced surgeries.”

Kristoffer nodded in agreement. “Many missions, like his current one, are focused primarily on providing the school Pamela mentioned with adequate supplies, security, and food, but they also work to obtain the release of Allied Command prisoners, rebuild infrastructure destroyed during the war, and such.”

“And the project to buy equipment for the hospital where I worked is making a huge difference, too, Mom.” Pamela didn’t want to digress into whether the war was right or wrong or whether it had done any good.

Mom leaned onto the table. “Sunshine, if you’re involved with them, I’m certain they’re aboveboard.”

This might be a good time to change the subject.

“Mom, we were thinking about going down to the beach. Are beach fires permitted tonight?”

“Sure. Monday through Thursday. There’s some seasoned driftwood in the garage. Help yourself. Perfect night for it.” Mom seemed happy to send them off, not used to having anyone around perhaps.

They cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher before taking the dogs for a walk up and down the street with her mom. The sound of the waves called to her. Pamela noticed half a dozen fires lit on the beach already.

Back at the house, Mom shooed them toward the door leading to the garage. Kristoffer went out to gather what they’d need as her mom pulled her aside. “I only have the one bedroom upstairs. Unless you want me to kennel the dogs that usually sleep on the sofa.”

Pamela had originally planned to sleep on one of the couches, but saw the Doberman and Great Dane curled up in those two spots now.

“Don’t worry about us. I’ll talk to Kristoffer, but we’ll probably take the upstairs.” If Kristoffer didn’t want to share a bed, it would be a beautiful night to sleep under the stars on the balcony.

Pamela closed the space between them and hugged her mom. “Night, Mom. Thanks for everything. It’s so good to see you again.”

Uncharacteristically, her mom didn’t push her away first, but seemed to want to hold on a little longer. “Love you, Sunshine.” When they separated, her mom pressed the house key into her hand. “Enjoy your time on the beach.” She started to turn away, stopped, and faced Pamela. “I like Kristoffer. Hang on to him.”

Pamela had never asked her mother to weigh in on anyone in her life before, but having her support meant a lot.

After giving her mom another quick squeeze, Pamela turned toward the garage as Mom picked up the dachshunds to take them to her room at the back of the house. Before Pamela joined Kristoffer, Mom tossed back over her shoulder, “See you at breakfast!”

Inside the garage, Kristoffer picked up a small bundle of firewood and the butane lighter while Pamela grabbed the beach blanket, a bucket to extinguish the fire, and a flashlight. They crossed Scenic Road lured by the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. She could never live at the beach year-round, but did enjoy occasional visits like this one.

The air was chilly, not unusual for Carmel. If the daytime temperature reached seventy degrees this time of year, it was considered a heat wave. Good thing she and Kristoffer had worn jackets while walking the dogs.

“The moon’s almost full enough that we don’t need the flashlight,” he said. The stars twinkled above, and she spotted the Big Dipper, too.

At his suggestion, she turned it off after both had reached the bottom of the steep rock steps. There were only two fires burning in this area, rather close together, so they ventured closer to the crashing waves to find themselves a secluded spot. Kristoffer soon had the fire blazing, and they stretched out on the blanket, curled together for added warmth.

“I can’t believe how cold it is here. It’s almost July,” he remarked.

“Carmel’s temperatures vary only slightly in any given season, but tend to be on the cool side year-round. After today’s warmer-than-usual temps, the marine layer probably will roll in tomorrow morning and leave everything blanketed in fog until at least afternoon. San Francisco gets that fog, too.”

Leaning against him, his arms wrapped around her, she relished being held by him again. Would they share a bed tonight? Before she could bring it up, he spoke.

“This week has been quite an adventure. Who’d have thought we’d wind up here in Carmel when we set out on this adventure last Friday? I’ve enjoyed traveling with someone spontaneous like you, Sprite, and I’m going to hate to leave.”

“I feel the same way. We’ve had an amazing time. Even though our week is only half over, when can we run away together again?” She grinned, but found herself waiting for his response.

“I haven’t managed to get any work done out here. Gunnar might not grant me another vacation for a while.” He laughed.

“Don’t you hate for a good vacation to come to an end?” She hadn’t had many, but this was at the top of her list of favorites. Would they do this again someday?

They sat quietly and listened to the waves. “Want to take a stroll?” he asked.

“Not tonight.” His arms around her, strong and protective, with the sound of his beating heart against her head was all she wanted. If only they could stay like this forever.

They wouldn’t return to Sonoma for four days. Where should she take him next? “Want to drive down to Big Sur tomorrow, Kristoffer? There’s a fabulous restaurant overlooking the ocean. Maybe we can still get reservations since it’s not a weekend.”

“Sounds good to me. Whatever you want to do.”

She sighed.
That
was off limits.

A strand of hair whipped against her face, and Kristoffer’s fingers brushed it behind her ear. Her heart beat erratically at his touch.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence.

*     *     *

Listening to the sounds of lovers on the beach, Kristoffer ached to make love to Pamela, but was helpless with a fear of failure. Their fledgling relationship needed more time before they made a decision that might leave her hurting. What if this was a vacation anomaly and not something they’d be able to sustain back home? Had he truly broken down walls for good?

Pamela had been clear she wasn’t looking for casual sex. Hell, neither was he. They’d wait.

Even if it kills me.

Holding her like this in such a romantic setting, his defenses lowered even more. Perhaps he should shift his thoughts in a safer direction and douse his libido. Talking about her mom ought to do the trick.

“Your mom is quite interesting. I can’t help but feel there’s a lot more to her than meets the eye.”

“Join the club. She’s always struck me that way, too. I’d love to know more. She did share things tonight that were new to me, including those photos on the bookshelf.”

“Why don’t you ask her specific questions?”

“Lots of reasons. Deep down, I don’t think I want to hear the answers. I mean, what if she left because she hated having me as her kid?”

“I don’t get that impression with her at all. She’s proud of you and clearly loves you.”

“I know. Logically, I don’t believe she left because she didn’t want to be my mom. Something must have scared her.”

Silence settled around them until he asked what was foremost in his mind. “What are the sleeping arrangements tonight?”