Too Far to Say Far Enough: A Novel (18 page)

He, too, gazed down the beach. “I think the fact that she isn’t wearing a string bikini shows you have a pretty strong influence on her already.”

“You can do this, Allison,” Liz said.

“I’ll have to think about how.” I dug my hands deeper into my pockets. “What about in the meantime? I’m breaking the law by not turning her over to the authorities.”

“Let’s just go with the assumption that whoever is supposed to be responsible for her isn’t going to care about that.” Liz put her hand on my arm. “Just remember—”

“I know. I didn’t hear that from you.”

Bonner slid his arm around Liz. “We need to get going. I have to look at a house in Vilano that’s going on the market. Although I’m not counting on people lining up to buy anything down there.”

“You two lovebirds go ahead,” I said.

Liz wrinkled her nose at me. Bonner’s face went blotchy. They left me longing for that kind of simplicity.

Instead I had about the most complicated life of anybody I could think of. It was enough to make me kick off my sandals and head straight into the surf. I would have if I hadn’t sensed someone else approaching from the direction of Kade’s house. I didn’t have to turn and look to know it was Chief.

“You okay, Classic?” he said.

“No,” I said.

“Neither am I.”

I had to look then. He was wearing sunglasses so I couldn’t see his eyes, but I knew there were no crinkles there. The sad set of his mouth gave that away.

“Did you … have you … are you—” I snapped off that string of eloquence and just looked at him.

“I’m working on it,” he said. “I did come up with one answer.” He folded his arms across his chest and gazed in the direction of the horizon. “Last night was the first time I ever saw you with Irwin.”

“No. Really?”

He gave me a brief glance over the top of his sunglasses. “I would have remembered.”

“I wasn’t
with
him. He bulldozed himself into the situation. That’s his MO. Trust me, I was doing everything I could to get away from him.”

“You want to hear this or not?”

“Sorry,” I said. “Tell me.”

Chief buried his hands in his armpits, eyes still pointed out to sea. “Until I saw you together I always just pictured you in my mind as two people fighting a courtroom battle.”

“That’s basically what we are.”

“No, I saw the connection.”

“A
what
?
We don’t
have
a connection! Okay, we did at one time, when we were kids. And there’s Kade, only that definitely does not connect us. Chief, this is absurd
.
I cannot stand the man. You watched me almost
hurl,
for Pete’s sake. What more do I have to do—open a vein?”

He didn’t answer. He was silent for so long, the ocean’s heartbeat nearly drove me mad. I couldn’t tell whether it was God or just pure stubbornness that kept me waiting until he finally spoke.

“I don’t see how we can make a commitment to each other when you still have that kind of intense feeling about another man. Even if the feeling is hate.” Chief squinted over my head into the sun. “
Especially
if the feeling is hate, because you told me yourself you
hate
hate.”

“I guess you do want me to open a vein.” I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “Yes, I hate what Troy’s tried to do to our ministry. I hate what he did to Ophelia. I hate that he tried to use interfering with the adoption to get me to give up the houses. It’s what he’s
done
that I hate. But Troy hasn’t won and he’s not going to.”

“I get that, Classic.” Chief said.

“Then
what
is the
problem
?”

He turned to face me, and before I could back away he had his hands on my shoulders. I could feel my anger head for the drain and I couldn’t let it, because right now it was the only thing that was making any sense.

“You’re not going to make this go away by holding me,” I said. “We have to figure it out.”

“That’s what we’re doing. I believe you don’t let what Irwin has done make your decisions for you. Otherwise you’d be in Kade’s camp.”

“Then—”

“The problem is what you
can’t
let go of.”

“And what would that be? That Troy made it impossible for me to keep our baby and raise him?” I could feel the tears coming into my throat. “I could have. I made the choice not to.”

“And you chose not to trust another man for twenty-five years. You chose not to have another relationship—”

“Until now. Until you.”

“And what am I to you?”

“Mr. Chief!”

Desmond’s voice was shrill on the air, even from the fifty yards left between him and us as he ran toward Chief.

Chief took a step closer to me and held me in place by one shoulder as he talked into my ear. “I love you. But I can’t be—”

The rest was lost in the cry, “Hey, Mr.
Chief
!”

A pair of lanky arms came around Chief’s waist from behind. I could see Desmond’s hands squeezing until the color disappeared from his fingers.

“I’ll catch you two later,” I said. “I’m going to go see what Kade needs.”

I took off running toward the house, but I could still hear the unfinished sentence.

I can’t be—

You can’t be what? Everything I ever needed? Everything I’ve missed? The person I have trusted my life with? And Desmond’s? After all we’ve gone through together, you can’t be that?

I might have gone on running and asking questions I couldn’t answer if Kade hadn’t met me between the beach and the steps where Mercedes was leading the Sisters up to the house. I made sure my sunglasses were in place and I put on a smile.

“So what happened with Desmond and Flannery?” I said.

Kade shrugged. “She laughed at him because he wouldn’t go in the water. He pretended he didn’t care. It’s cool.”

“How do you know it’s cool?”

“Been there.”

“Oh?”

“Her name was Ashley,” he said, eyes bright. “She made fun of me because I couldn’t dance.”

“And what did
your
mom say to you when you pretended you didn’t care?”

“She didn’t say anything. She just put on a CD the next day and started teaching me to waltz.”

“
Waltz
?
Who waltzes in high school?”

“Who said I was in high school? That was my sophomore year of college.” Kade wiggled his sandy eyebrows. “A number of young ladies have fallen under the spell of my waltz.”

I didn’t doubt it for a minute. I laughed, because I, too, could pretend. Pretend I didn’t care that another, probably wiser woman had made Kade Capelli the man he was. This day was falling apart in large chunks.

Mercedes took complete charge of the rest of the unpacking process and had Jasmine organizing Kade’s closet and Gigi pairing socks and lining them up in the drawers of the dilapidated dresser he’d obviously hauled out of someone’s trash. I heard Chief ask Kade what he was doing with the money he was paying him.

Hank had the kitchen done so she marshaled Desmond and Kade into hosing off deck furniture. Rochelle cleaned the bathrooms without being asked to. I felt a little sorry for the toilets as she all but scrubbed off the porcelain. She was obviously learning
something
from Mercedes.

I started in on the sliding glass doors with a container of Windex and a roll of paper towels, but Hank took both from me, handed them to a less-than-enthusiastic Flannery, and nodded me back toward the beach.

“I’ve been stuck in here all day,” she said. “I need a walk.”

I let her coax me all the way to the bottom of the path before I said, “I’ve never known you to take a walk in your life.”

“This is far enough. Let’s sit.”

She pointed to two low beach chairs tucked just beyond the dunes.

“All we need is Patrice with a couple of lattes,” I said as I lowered myself into one of them.

“Is that all you need, Al?” Hank said.

“Please don’t make me start crying again.”

“I don’t think there’s much I can do to stop you.”

I swallowed until I could talk. “I guess you know.”

“That he didn’t propose? That was pretty obvious last night.”

“Do you know why?”

“No. I take it you do.”

“Not really.” I told her what I did know, while she sat there with her folded hands and her endless patience. I ended with, “I told God I’ll go as many extra miles as I have to.”

“With your enemy.”

“Huh?”

“I looked up the scripture that comes from. Jesus is referring to your enemy when he says ‘If anyone forces you to go one mile—’”

“Chief’s not forcing me. It feels like
God
is forcing me, not my enemy.”

“Who makes you do
that
?”

“What?”

She pointed to my hands. I could almost see my knucklebones through the skin where I was gripping the arms of the chair.

“Who makes you do that, Al?” she said.

“I only know one person. I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to go another mile with Troy Irwin.”

I waited for the knowing nod or at least the refolding of the hands, but Hank’s gaze drifted over my shoulder. I twisted to see Kade standing there.

“I’m firing up the grill,” he said. “A little salmon. Some kabobs. See you in thirty?”

“He heard, didn’t he?” I said when he was gone.

“Does it matter?” Hank said.

I watched him disappear onto the deck. “Show me something that doesn’t,” I said.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Going an extra two
feet
with Troy Irwin wasn’t even an option in the next few days. As for finding out the ending to Chief’s sentence, there wasn’t space for that either.

Monday morning I had to deliver Desmond for his first day of in-school suspension. He was cavalier about it in front of Flannery, but if she was grateful that he was taking a hit for her, she didn’t show it.

When we got to the school I had to walk him to the office and sign a document saying I understood that he would be separated from his schedule for three days and would be expected to do his work in a room across from Vice Principal Foo-Foo’s office. There were two other boys in there, both of whom looked like they ought to be on a chain gang, and a girl in a hooded sweatshirt with several holes in her nose where rings had obviously been removed for the occasion. Desmond plopped right down beside her, handsome smile fully operational. For once I was relieved. If this girl could take his mind off Flannery, I’d be happy to take
her
in as a foster child.

But Flannery was the one I was Nudged to, and I basically had to drag her everywhere that day.
Drag
is no exaggeration. She didn’t want anyone outside our circle seeing her purple face, and that was coupled with her absolute terror of riding on the Harley. I got her out the door by telling her she could wear the pink canvas hat India had given her anytime she didn’t have the helmet on—and the sunglasses went without saying. I probably could have used the van, but I hoped a little dependency on me for her safety might open her up.

Our first stop was Ms. Willa’s. Fortunately the ride was short, because Flannery very nearly cut off my circulation on the way. When we pulled into Toques Place and I peeled her arms away, she left two handprints of sweat on my denim vest.

“Go ahead and get off,” I said to her.

“Gladly.” She stood on the pegs to swing her leg around.

“It’s pretty obvious you’ve been on bikes before,” I said, “so why are you so scared? Is my driving that bad?”

Flannery pulled off the helmet, releasing the torrent of curls that was now somewhat flattened. “They’re obnoxious.”

“Watch it now. Classic doesn’t like to be insulted.”

“It has a name?”

“
She
has a name.”

Flannery squinted what she could of her puffy face. “You are so weird.”

“A little weirdness can keep you from freaking out.”

“I told you—”

“That you don’t freak out. But you do, and the sooner you own that, the sooner it’ll stop controlling you.”

The china chin came up. “I’m never letting anything control me again.”

“Then this is a good place to start.”

She gave the Harley a long, dubious look like the child she was. The bike was the bogeyman as far as she was concerned, and as she surveyed it fear licked at my own gut. Whether I took this kid on or not, somebody needed to get to the bottom of what brought her here.

Owen greeted us at Ms. Willa’s door and, to his credit, did a fine job of masking his initial horror at Flannery’s face. She didn’t appear to notice the cover-up; she was too busy taking in Ms. Willa’s digs. It was obvious she’d never seen brocade wallpaper and velvet drapes, the swimming and gymnastics lessons notwithstanding.

“Is he the butler?” she whispered to me as we followed Owen into the parlor.

“No. He’s her boyfriend.”

“No stinkin’ way!”

Those were the first words Ms. Willa heard out of Flannery’s mouth. I almost chewed a hole in the inside of
my
mouth as the bluish mane came back and Flannery was greeted with a squint that outclassed anything she could form.

“Who is this child with the potty mouth?”

“Potty mouth?” Flannery said. “You want potty mouth, I’ll give you potty mouth.”

“And I’ll give you a dose of lye soap. Maria!”

Ms. Willa was yelping like a Jack Russell, and as much as I was enjoying it, I was also struck by the frayed edge on her voice. As Ms. Willa’s maid skittered into the room, I said to Owen between my teeth, “Is she getting sicker?”

“She hasn’t had any more spells,” he whispered back.

“I cannot abide people talking about me while I’m sitting right here,” Ms. Willa said, waving a bewildered Maria back out of the room.

“Really?” Flannery said. “Then why do
you
do it?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You just did it to me. ‘Who is this child with the potty mouth?’ and I’m, like, two feet away.”

Ms. Willa turned to me. “She’s been spending far too much time with you.”

“See?” Flannery said. “You’re doing it again.”

Despite the sickly weariness around Ms. Willa’s eyes, they took on a gleam. “What’s your name, child?”

“Flannery Donohue.”

“Are you Catholic?”

“
What
?”
I said.

“The Irish are usually Catholic.”

“I used to be,” Flannery said. “But I got over it.”

“What are you now?”

For a moment Flannery was without a sassy reply, until she floored me with, “I’m a Sacrament Sister.”

“Did your last customer give you that shiner?”

I thought Owen was going to choke to death, and I wasn’t far behind him. Flannery just shook her head and said, “You need another cushion.”

“A what?”

“Another cushion. For your neck. You’re all scrunched down. I don’t see how you can breathe that way.”

“I’m breathing just fine,” Ms. Willa said, and then succumbed to the red velvet pillow Flannery took from the settee and positioned behind her neck. Some of the color returned around the old woman’s lips.

“Why is it that you know what the rest of these people are clueless about?” Ms. Willa said, waving a blue-veined hand at the rest of us.

Flannery flopped herself onto the gold couch. “I used to hang out at a nursing home a lot when I was a kid. This is a weird sofa.”

“What I want to know is why you aren’t hanging out at school.”

Because the authorities would be on me so fast I’d be calling her for bail money.

Ms. Willa jabbed a finger at me. “What’s being done about her education?”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Flannery said. “I’m good.”

While Ms. Willa went on to set Flannery straight on all the ways she clearly wasn’t good, an idea came into view. Homeschooling would be just the thing to keep this young’un focused while I followed up on what Liz said I should be doing.

“What could you teach her, Ms. Willa?” I said.

“Hello!” Flannery said.

Ms. Willa turned the arthritic finger on her. “I would start with penmanship. You young people aren’t taught that anymore.”

“You mean like writing in cursive?”

“That is exactly what I mean.”

Flannery blew air through her lips. “Who needs that when you can text and email?” She shot me a look. “If I ever get my cell phone back.”

“Bring her to me tomorrow afternoon, Allison,” Ms. Willa said. “Owen will go out and get the necessary supplies and we’ll go to work.”

“Consider it done,” Owen said. “A
fait accompli
. It’s history already.”

We were barely out the door after the required tea before Flannery was tugging at my arm.

“I will do anything—anything—if you won’t make me come here and take penmanship.”

“Okay. Let’s start with you telling me about your parents.”

Her good eye went into a slit. “Give me a pen.”

Desmond was far less gallant about going to ISS the next day, Tuesday.

“The Mosquito was in there three periods yesterday,” he told me as we were getting the bike ready.

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Unh-uh. That’s parta her
job.
” He shrugged on his leather jacket. “I ain’t done nothin’ to make her hate me like she does.”

“I don’t know that she actually hates you—”

“Yes, she does, Big Al. And I think she hates you, too.”

I tried to sound casual. “What makes you say that?”

“’Cause I heard her telling Vice-Principal Foo-Foo you be takin’ in serial killers next. I ’bout told her—”

“Don’t tell her anything, Des. You can’t kill hate by feeding it more hate.”

“What Imma feed it with then?”

I paused, helmet in hand. “Love, I guess.”

Desmond’s eyebrows practically folded over his cheekbones. “No,
ma’am,
Big Al. I am
not
gon’ love the Mosquito. I won’t say nothin’ to her, but I am not gon’ love her.”

He looked like he was about to lose his Cheerios. I figured I could count on him to give the woman a wide berth.

The next thing on the agenda was a scheduled meeting with Hank, Kade, and Chief at Sacred Grounds to form a plan for dealing with Flannery until I could get some information from her, which so far I’d been unable to do. She obviously couldn’t be at that gathering, and it was too early to take her to Ms. Willa’s, so my only option was to park her upstairs at Second Chances with Mercedes and Jasmine and Ophelia. Flannery wasn’t thrilled with that idea, but she admitted it was better than learning how to make fancy
T
s and
S
s over at that rich lady’s house.

Getting her out of
my
house, onto the Harley, and finally up the steps to the boutique kept my mind occupied. But as I went back down the stairs to the coffee shop, I could hear Chief’s bass underscoring the conversation already in progress and I could no longer evade what I’d been mentally dodging for three days.

I’d seen Chief since the beach. We went on a ride with the HOGs Sunday, but I had the Flannery watch while he stuck with Desmond. Monday he came by to see how Desmond fared at ISS, but he didn’t stay long. Even if I’d tried to convince myself he wasn’t avoiding being alone with me, Flannery was there to inform me I was in denial.

“You keep saying you guys didn’t break up,” she said when she was helping me load the dishwasher while Chief and Desmond talked on the porch. “But it sure looks like it to me.”

“You have a lot of experience with relationships, do you?” I said.

“I’ve just seen my mom and her—”

She’d caught herself and gone back to scraping a plate into the trash can.

I steeled myself now for the next hour when I would have to sit near enough to see the beloved creases around Chief’s eyes and the twitches in his jaw muscles. When I got there, Hank and Kade had done me no favors; they’d saved the seat next to Chief’s just for me. At least Patrice was there taking orders so that when Chief reached over to squeeze my hand I had an excuse not to look at him. Instead of,
Please don’t touch me until we get this worked out,
I said, “The usual, Patrice.” I looked at Hank and added, “Two shots.” Hank gave me the nod.

Kade, bless his heart, kept a banter going until Hank had her typical feast in front of her and the rest of us were supplied with coffee and the chocolate biscotti Kade insisted we had to try because they were “stupid good.” When Patrice was finally gone, I filled them in on what Liz had told me.

“Have you made any progress getting her to spill her guts?” Kade said.

“Lovely image,” Hank said.

“I know she spent a lot of time at a nursing home,” I said. “And her mom has had some relationship … difficulties.”

“We could be talking about a stepfather or a live-in boyfriend,” Hank said.

“Or a series thereof,” Chief said.

“This is going to take longer than I thought,” I said. “She just won’t talk to me. Believe it or not, I think she’s scared.”

“That girl?” Hank said.

“I feel it.”

“I don’t think we can argue with that.”

I looked at Chief, whose eyes were as filled with faith-in-Allison as they always were. So what the—

“In the meantime,” Hank said, “what’s the plan?”

I told them about the homeschooling idea. They all stared at me for a full fifteen seconds before Kade volunteered to tutor Flannery in math when he worked with Desmond, and Hank suggested I get Owen to teach her botany. Chief just kept looking at me.

“Come on, Big Guy,” Kade said to him. “You must have somethin’.”

Chief shook his head. “I don’t think so. She pretty much steers clear of me.”

“Really,” Hank said.