The Carson Springs Trilogy: Stranger in Paradise, Taste of Honey, and Wish Come True (78 page)

What made it so unsettling was that Aubrey, unlike some of the men she’d been with since her divorce, had no ulterior motive. He was merely being
nice.
Which worried her more than if he’d been angling to marry her. Dammit, why couldn’t he have been a shit? Or, at the very least, a shit with redeeming qualities.
That
she could relate to.

“We’ll never get there at this rate,” Claire fretted.

“If I go any faster, we’ll be eating that guy’s exhaust.” Gerry glared at the dark blue Subaru creeping along in front of them as if it were the cause of the jam.

“I wish I bit my nails. It’d be something to do.”

“Justin cracks his knuckles.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“It drives me up a wall.”

Claire gave a tiny smile. “I’ve noticed that, too.”

“You’ll see when you have children of your own.”

“That might not be for a long time.”

Gerry caught a note of yearning in her voice. She asked pleasantly, “How does your boyfriend feel about kids?” The traffic had slowed to a near standstill, and she eased her foot off the accelerator just in time to keep from kissing the Subaru’s bumper.

“Oh, he wants them … one of these days,” Claire said.

“Well, that’s a start at least. By the way, when am I going to meet this guy?”

Claire stared distractedly out the window. “Soon, I hope. It’s hard for him to get away.”

“He’ll be here for the opening, won’t he?”

“He said he’d try.”

Gerry sensed there was more to it than her boyfriend’s busy schedule, but she let it drop. Whatever was going on with them, Claire didn’t need her putting her two cents in. She thought, too, of Matt. She couldn’t help but notice he and Claire had gotten pretty chummy. Was he giving the boyfriend a run for his money?

She was surprised when Claire volunteered, “The truth is, Byron’s not exactly thrilled about all this.”

“The tearoom?”

“Let’s just say it wouldn’t exactly be to his advantage if it’s a roaring success.”

“How so?”

Claire frowned. “Well, for one thing, Carson Springs isn’t exactly where he planned on opening a practice … and I wouldn’t exactly be in a position to move.”

“They’re building a new medical center out near Dos Palmas,” Gerry told her. “I’ve heard they’re looking for doctors.”

“It’s a thought.” Claire perked up a bit, then went back to staring gloomily out the window. “Either way, we’ll be strapped for cash. Let’s face it, even if I can pull this off, you’re not likely to see Tea and Sympathy in the Fortune 500.”

Gerry gave a knowing laugh. ‘“The same is true of Blessed Bee. I guess neither of us is in it for the money.”

Her stomach did a nosedive at the thought of Sister Clement, who’d arrived earlier in the week. What would she say if she knew about Claire?

“Byron and I’ll work it out,” Claire said. “We always do.” It sounded more like bravado than conviction.

“The real test comes when you’re married.” Gerry thought of her own marriage, which had been a rude shock after the wine and roses of their courtship. “This might sound strange, but I sometimes think that if Mike and I had lived apart, we’d still be together.”

Fog was rolling in off the bay in soft gray bales, cocooning them in a heavy, gray mist, and making the cars ahead look as if they’d been sketched in pencil. After a moment Claire said, “Would you have married my father if he’d asked?”

Gerry shrugged. “Let’s just say I’m glad he didn’t. It would have been a disaster. The one thing I
do
know is that I wouldn’t have married Mike if it hadn’t been for Jim.”

“Why is that?”

“I couldn’t see past the fact that he wanted kids. And I was desperate to be a mother.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Claire’s voice was flat.

Gerry felt something come loose inside her chest, like a cog holding some vital piece of machinery in place. She asked softly, “Do you think you’ll ever forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Claire shot her a cool glance.

“What is it, then?”

Claire hesitated a moment, then said, “It’s not about what happened then. It’s just that I can’t help wondering if you’re ashamed of me
now.
”

Gerry was so startled she nearly plowed into the car in front of her, and had to bring her foot down hard on the brake. “Ashamed? Why on earth would you think that?”

“That first weekend, when you didn’t introduce me to your friends, I got the feeling you didn’t want me to be the scarlet A on your chest.”

Gerry was stung by the unfairness of it. All this time she’d been holding back because she’d thought
Claire
was the one who’d have been embarrassed.

“If you only knew,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’d have shouted it to the heavens if I’d thought …” She pulled in a deep, steadying breath. “I was afraid that if I came on too strongly you’d run in the opposite direction.”

Claire was looking at her in a new way—thoughtful and considering. “I guess we were both wrong.” She seemed to be struggling to hold her emotions in check. A moment later she pointed toward a sign up ahead. “It’s the next exit.”

It was well after dark by the time they turned off Highway 17 onto the Pacific Coast Highway, which became the main road into town. They cruised past tourist shops and boat dealerships and eateries with names like Rusty Anchor and The Crow’s Nest. Gerry found Miramonte to be pretty much as she’d remembered it except for the newer-looking houses and condos now interspersed with the older beachfront cottages.

Dominican Hospital lay at the southernmost end of town: a modern concrete-and-glass building with a steel cross above the lighted sign out front. Gerry pulled into the parking lot to find it full, the only spaces available those for staff. She circled it several times before nosing their rented Taurus into the slot labeled
CHIEF ADMINISTRATOR
.

“If we get towed,” she said, “we might as well go out in style.”

Claire looked as if she were about to protest, but said nothing.

They walked along the juniper-lined path to the main entrance, where they pushed their way through thick plate glass doors into the lobby. Wall-to-wall glass soared to meet the solar-paneled ceiling, which at this hour gave it the look of a cavern. At the far end was a reception desk flanked by rows of chairs. Claire hurried over to it, returning moments later wearing a distraught look.

“She’s in the CCU.”

“Go on. I’ll wait here,” Gerry told her.

Claire shot her a grateful look, then made a dash for the elevators, leaving Gerry to wonder if this would turn out to be a wasted trip.
No,
she thought. If nothing else, she’d been given the opportunity to set the record straight with her daughter—a misunderstanding that, if left to fester, would have had consequences far beyond anything the Brewsters could dream up. As she made her way over to the waiting area, she offered up a little prayer of thanks. God did indeed work in mysterious ways.

She found an empty seat and fished her cell phone from her purse, punching in Sam’s number.

“ ’Lo,” Sam sounded distracted.

“How’s it going?”

“Fine. We just had supper. Listen, Gerry—”

“The kids behaving themselves?”

“Justin’s good as gold. But—”

“Andie?”

“She’s not here.”

From the agitation in her voice, Gerry knew that Andie wasn’t out with Simon or over at Finch’s. She felt her heart lurch. “What do you mean? Where is she?”

“At her dad’s. I just got off the phone with Mike.”

“There’s nothing wrong, is there?” Gerry struggled to remain calm.

There was a beat of silence, a solitary beat, no more, but enough for Gerry to feel her world start to crumble. “According to Mike, she wants to stay with him. For good.”

Gerry gripped the edge of her seat. “Are you sure he wasn’t just saying that?”

“I don’t think so. She was at the house when I went to pick up her and Justin. She got pretty upset when I told her where you’d gone.” Sam’s voice was muffled, as if she were holding a hand cupped around the receiver.

“Oh, God, I didn’t think.” Gerry felt sick. She’d been so busy blaming Andie for what had happened at the wedding that she hadn’t seen this coming. Why couldn’t she have given Andie the benefit of the doubt?

“It’s not too late,” Sam said. “If you talked to her …”

Gerry’s head spun. Since when had it become Andie’s decision? Wasn’t
she
supposed to be in charge? She tried to remember the last time they’d had anything close to a heart-to-heart talk. Days? Weeks? Months? She couldn’t recall.

“Would you put Justin on?” She’d die if she couldn’t talk to at least one of her kids.

She spoke briefly with her son, who seemed oblivious to all that was going on with his sister. An equal opportunity hero-worshiper, he was delighted to be able to spend time with Ian. Listening to him babble on excitedly was like warm water rinsing the salt from her wound.

Being a mother was like triage, she thought. You were constantly forced to choose, doling out hugs and kisses and precious private time to whichever child was most in need at any given moment. Which meant that someone was always going to feel left out. And what did you say to
that
child? That life isn’t fair, and the sooner they realized it the better?

An hour passed. She flipped through outdated magazines and glanced up from time to time at the TV, on which captions scrolled across the bottom of the screen in lieu of sound. It was tuned to the news, and she saw just enough to get the drift: police shootings, protests, Middle East terrorist attacks. Just when she was beginning to give up hope of Claire’s return, she caught sight of her emerging from an elevator. Gerry scarcely recognized her. She seemed to have aged a dozen years. Her head was down and her shoulders pulled up around her ears, her gait as deliberate and heavy as if she were lugging a heavy bundle on her back.

Gerry walked over to meet her. “How is she?”

Claire seemed almost surprised to find her still there, then quickly recovered, saying, “It’s not as serious as they first thought.”
You wouldn’t know it from your face,
Gerry thought. “The preliminary diagnosis is angina. Her doctor wants to do some more tests, but if everything checks out, she can go home tomorrow.”

“You must be relieved.”

If she was, it had done nothing to ease whatever was weighing on her. “I told her you were here.”

“And?”

“It took some convincing, but she finally agreed to see you.”

Gerry’s heart went out to Claire. “I won’t stay long. I imagine she’s pretty tired.”

Claire’s only reply was to smile grimly, as if to say that Gerry couldn’t possibly make things worse.

As they rode up in the elevator, Gerry thought of Millie Brewster steeling herself against her unwanted visitor as she must have the results of her EKG. She smiled at the irony of it. Years ago
she’d
been the one consumed with jealousy. Now it was up to her to put Millie’s fears to rest.

The CCU was on the third floor, just around the corner from the nurses’ station. It had four beds, each sectioned off by a curtain, and enough glowing monitors to light the room without benefit of fluorescents. Millie Brewster was in the bed nearest the door: a gray-haired woman so small and frail she left barely a dent in the mattress. She lay very still, her eyes closed, the hand hooked up to the IV resting pale and weightless on her bosom.

The line on the monitor overhead undulated in even waves.

Claire’s father sat in the chair beside the bed, a large balding man running to fat. He’d been staring vacantly ahead, lost in thought, but started at their approach, a momentary alertness animating his sad, defeated-looking face. He looked from Claire to Gerry, his gaze lingering only a second longer than was polite.

“She just dropped off,” he whispered.

Gerry had a sudden urge to flee. What had she hoped to accomplish? “I could come back later if you like.” She kept her voice low, not wanting to wake Millie.

But Millie stirred, her eyes fluttering open—small and anxious. She stared at Gerry, waiting for her to make the first move.

Gerry touched her hand. She saw no need for introductions. “Claire tells me you’re going to be okay.”

“So they say.” Millie’s voice was a dry croak, her face as pale as chalk. If Gerry hadn’t known better, she’d have thought the woman was at death’s door.

Lou patted his wife’s shoulder. “You’ll feel better when you’re in your own bed.”

“My mother always says hospitals are no place for sick people.” Gerry’s feeble attempt at leavening fell flat; Millie stared at her blankly. She tried a different tack. “I’m sorry. This must seem like the world’s worst timing, but Claire was so upset …” She hesitated, panic setting in. But the words came easily. “I’m glad we finally had a chance to meet. I want you to know how grateful I am. You did a fine job raising her.”

It clearly wasn’t what Millie had been expecting to hear. “I don’t need
you
to tell me that.”

“Mom—” Claire took a step forward.

Gerry put a hand out. “No, it’s all right.” She looked back at Millie. “I’m not trying to take your place, Mrs. Brewster. I couldn’t if I tried. All I want is to be a part of her life.”

Millie’s face twisted, a hard, gray knot against the pillow. “Well, you got your way, didn’t you?”

“Mom. It was
my
decision.” Claire looked stricken.

Millie’s gaze fell on her daughter. The angry look faded, replaced by an expression of almost unbearable tenderness. “Oh, honey, I don’t blame you. If anything, I blame myself.” Her voice was a thin little treble. “I know we leaned on you more than we should have. It’s like you … completed us.”

She melted into the pillow as if spent. Claire stood looking down at her mother, arms hanging lifelessly at her sides and her eyes filling with tears. On the monitor over the bed, the LCD readout showed a slight but noticeable spike.

“I didn’t ask for this.” Claire’s voice was small and choked. Gerry didn’t know if she meant her parents’ excessive love … or Gerry’s refusal to take no for an answer.

“I know, honey. I know.” Lou slipped an arm about his daughter’s shoulders.