Dreams for Stones Page 15

  Today, I tried to paint again. The brush felt awkward in my hand, the colors clashed, and I was unhappy with the result. I wonder if I have to be happy in order to paint. Or perhaps there is nothing wrong with the picture, only with the eyes full of sadness looking at it.

  I wanted to ask Jess for his opinion, but he’s always so exhausted when he gets home. He is studying again, this time for a PhD while teaching at the same time. He often nods off over his books after dinner. Still, he is lucky to be working, and it is one of the blessings I count when I try to pray.

  Yesterday was Bobby’s seventh birthday. I thought about when he was still tiny, and we counted his age in days. It was such a happy, hope-filled time. Every day was an adventure that brought changes.

  Jess and I were changing as well, affected by the wonder and delight of seeing our dear Bobby grow.

  That has all stopped now. When Jess comes home, I have no exciting stories to tell him about what words Bobby has learned, or how far he has crawled, walked, or run.

  That awful illness has made a mockery of time, for after all, what is time but the measure of change. Now the only change in my life is that Bobby keeps getting bigger and harder for me to take care of.

  And I feel I have lost Jess as well. We seem to have nothing to talk about anymore. How could we let this happen? Where has the ease between us gone, the sharing of every small detail of our days? Isn’t it enough that we have lost touch with our dear Bobby?

  Chapter Twenty

  The next time Kathy visited the hospital, Delia asked when Alan was coming to see her.

  “He hasn’t come to see her?” Kathy assumed he had been stopping by earlier in the day, so he wouldn’t run into her.

  “He sent a card. And he called.” Grace seemed to be avoiding her eyes.

  Given his reaction to the news Delia was critically ill, Kathy couldn’t understand why he hadn’t come. He’d been so upset, he hadn’t even been coherent.

  “He’ll come soon,” Kathy wrote for Delia. If I have to drag him here myself.

  Easier said than done. Kathy’s connection to Alan had frayed, and now, learning he hadn’t tried to see Delia, it snapped. But Delia, the only person in the world she would be willing to do it for, was asking her to pick up those strands and attempt to reconnect them.

  ~ ~ ~

  It took Kathy most of the next morning to work up the courage to call Alan, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she got his voicemail. A further relief when his voice on the recording had a hollow quality that made it seem unfamiliar. His message said he was away from the university for the summer but would be checking his voicemail on a regular basis. She left a message saying Delia was improving and was asking to see him.

  She debated whether to add that she always did her visiting in the late afternoon, then decided against it. If he wanted to avoid her, let him work that out for himself.

  Two days passed with no word from him. Delia insisted on keeping the stuffed animal he’d sent, a unicorn, in bed with her, and she wanted to see his card at least once a day.

  Kathy gave him points for sending Delia the unicorn, but he lost them with his continuing absence.

  Feeling more and more irritated, she finally called TapDancer Ranch. She braced herself for the sound of Alan’s voice, but it was Stella who answered the phone. They talked briefly with Stella saying they’d been away and had just returned. In response to Stella’s questions, Kathy told her about Delia’s illness.

  “Oh, my. We wondered why we hadn’t seen you. Does Alan know?” Stella said.

  “Of course. I’m hoping to talk him into visiting Delia.”

  “I see.”

  Kathy thought Stella sounded worried, but not surprised to hear Alan hadn’t visited Delia. How curious.

  “He’s out in the pasture with his dad. They’ll be in for lunch in half an hour. Why don’t you call back then.”

  Curious as well, Stella not offering to have Alan call her.

  Kathy almost didn’t call him back. She’d tried twice. Let his mother do the nudging from here on out. But when she pictured Delia asking about Alan, she knew she couldn’t let herself off the hook until she’d actually spoken to him.

  Besides, who was she kidding. She wasn’t just doing this for Delia. She wanted to see Alan again as badly as Delia did, even if she was upset with him. Something wasn’t right about his responses either to kissing her or to Delia’s being ill, and even though she was furious with him, she was also worried.

  A half hour later, she picked up the phone and dialed, her hand shaking, her heart pounding. Once again, Stella answered. “He’s washing up. I’ll get him for you.”

  While Kathy waited for Alan to come on the line, she distracted herself by staring at the way light caught in one of the leaded glass panels over Calico’s front door and transformed into a rainbow of color.

  When she heard Alan’s voice say hello, the phone nearly slipped from her hand. She gripped it tighter and spoke carefully, trying to keep her voice even. “Alan, Delia asked me to call you. She wants to see you. I need to know what to tell her. About when you’re going to visit her.”

  There was a pause, then he cleared his throat. “I. . . umm. . . prob—”

  Anger swept through Kathy. The weeks of worry and stress while Delia fought for her life, and now Alan, not saying he’d be right there, not even asking any questions about Delia. Making her do all the work. It was too much.

  “Have you ever considered getting yourself a warning label?” she said, cutting across his stumbling words.

  “Warning label?”

  “Warning. Do not let yourself care for this man, because although he gives a darn good imitation of having a heart, he doesn’t. That little girl loves you, Alan. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  There was a beat of silence. “You don’t understand.”

  Kathy was too far gone in anger to analyze either his words or his tone. “You’ve got that right. I can’t even begin to understand how you can do this to a child. It’s unforgivable. Delia’s been hurt enough. You can’t just cast her off like this, Alan. She needs you now more than ever—”

  A click. He’d hung up.

  She held the phone in her hand, staring at it, before setting it carefully back in its cradle, knowing if she didn’t move slowly, she might fly apart. She propped her head in her hands, closed her eyes, and took several deep breaths.

  It had felt good, telling Alan off. For sure, he deserved it. But now in the aftermath, the good feeling was abruptly gone, leaving her hollow and shaken, as if she had just smashed something that would never be quite whole again.

  “Hey, girl, you don’t look so good.” Jade slid onto the chair next to Kathy’s desk. “What’s up?”

  “I just called Alan to ask when he’s coming to see Delia.” Her voice shook. She stopped, took a breath, tried again. “He tried to make some excuse, and I. . . I told him off. He hung up on me.” And of all the ways she could have imagined the conversation playing out, that wasn’t one she’d even considered.

  Jade looked surprised. “He hasn’t come to see Delia?”

  Kathy shook her head, feeling too upset even to cry.

  “There must be something powerfully wrong in that man’s life.” Jade sounded pensive.

  It was what Kathy thought herself whenever she remembered the way he’d looked the last time she saw him. But no matter what it was, how could it justify him turning his back on a child?

  ~ ~ ~

  In spite of the fact his mother told him who was calling, when he first heard Kathy’s voice on the phone, Alan’s heartbeat boomed in his ears until he could barely make out what she was saying: that Delia was better, that she was awake and asking for him.

  By then he was a word or two behind, struggling to catch up. As he stammered out the beginning of a response, Kathy’s tone changed abruptly from businesslike to angry.

  The crime she accused him of, not one of commission but omission.

&n
bsp; With a flash of righteousness, he opened his mouth to defend himself. After all, Frank had told him it made no sense for him to drive all the way in from the ranch to see Delia until she regained consciousness. Frank had also said there was nothing else Alan could do at the moment to help. That all any of them could do was wait and pray.

  But with a stab of pain, he realized the truth in what Kathy was saying. He had been unable to deal with what was happening with Delia. Sure, he’d made some of the motions: calling the hospital, leaving Frank and Grace a message, sending Delia a card and a present, finally visiting but talking only to Frank. He hadn’t gone to the hospital again, and he’d worked hard to keep what was happening at arm’s length.

  Feeling the deep fatigue of regret and sorrow wash over him, he broke the connection with Kathy. He continued to hold the receiver against his ear, in case his mother checked to see what was keeping him, while he focused on finding a way to breathe around the huge boulder that seemed to be lodged in his chest.

  When he was finally able to breathe normally, he joined his parents in the kitchen for lunch. After lunch, he drove to Denver to see Delia.

  ~ ~ ~

  “I won’t be around for the next couple of days,” Charles said.

  He and Kathy were sitting on the steps of the Cheesman Park Pavilion, cooling down after a run. “The Olson trial is heating up.”

  Kathy enjoyed hearing about Charles’s cases. She knew from the way he talked, he loved what he did for a living. He told her he viewed his work like a jigsaw puzzle; his job was to fit together the pieces for the judge and jury.

  She also liked talking about his cases because it was a good way to keep their relationship where she wanted it kept. Just friends.

  “What would you do, if you were trying a case and realized the guy wasn’t guilty?”

  He shrugged. “If I discovered new evidence, I’d have to share it with the defense. But if something comes out in testimony, it’s up to the defense and the jury to pick up on it.”

  “And if the jury didn’t see it?”

  When he didn’t answer, she looked over at him and found him staring off into the distance with a meditative look. Finally he shook himself. “That’s why we have an appeals process.” Then he turned and looked at her. “Have dinner with me Saturday?”

  She twisted slightly to look him in the eyes. “Same ground rules?”

  He held his hands up in mock surrender. “See, Ma, no hands.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Charles took her to a quiet Italian restaurant for a leisurely dinner. As they finished eating, he glanced at his watch. “Tell you what, do you like to dance?”

  “Won’t that make it difficult to keep your promise? You know, the one about your hands.”

  “I’ll keep it strictly on the up and up.” He grinned at her. Then he shrugged. “I like to dance, and it’s good exercise.”

  “So what you’re proposing is a workout.” Kathy tilted her head, trying to decide if it was a good idea or a terrible idea.

  “Whatever. The place I’m thinking about plays swing. You ever tried it?”

  Okay. She could do swing. Swing was fast-paced, impersonal. “I’ll have you know Cincinnati was a hotbed of swing when I was in college.”

  “Let’s go, then.”

  At Monk’s Haven they ordered drinks and chatted until the band returned from a break and began playing “Little Brown Jug.”

  Kathy quickly learned to trust Charles’s lead, and by the time the band segued into “A String of Pearls,” they were dancing together as if they’d been doing it for years.

  Then the band switched tempo and played “Moonlight Serenade.” Before Kathy could suggest a break, Charles pulled her into his arms.

  The sudden vivid memory of the last time she’d been in a man’s arms washed over her. Alan. She misstepped, and Charles’s arm tightened, steadying her.

  When the dance ended, she excused herself and went to the ladies’ room. There, she stared at her image in the mirror, remembering Alan kissing her and then the way he had looked saying he was sorry he’d kissed her. And how that made her feel. As if he’d slapped her. The sting of it worse somehow than Greg saying he’d “clicked” with someone named Julie.

  Because after watching Alan with Delia and the animals, seeing how gentle and caring he was, she didn’t believe he’d ever hurt someone deliberately. But he had. He’d hurt her, and he had to know it, because she wasn’t any good at hiding her feelings.

  She had to stop thinking about Alan. It was simple to do, after all. Just no more looking back. And after a while, it would fade, and everything would be all right. As it always had been.

  But this time that approach didn’t seem to be working.

  She ran her fingers through her hair, splashed some water on her cheeks, and, putting on a bland expression, rejoined Charles.

  When the band called it a night, Charles settled the bill and, taking her hand, walked her to his car. In spite of his promises, she expected him to suggest they go back to his place, and she’d already prepared her refusal. But instead he drove her directly to the Costellos’ where he walked her to the door.

  She opened it and turned to tell him goodnight, and he leaned forward and kissed her briefly on the lips.

  “That might be the letter, but it’s hardly the spirit,” she said, pulling away and meeting his eyes.

  A question, one she didn’t want to answer, altered the shape of his eyebrows and mouth. She met his look for a long beat. Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her again.

  It was an expert kiss, and she enjoyed it, but she felt none of the longing she’d felt kissing Alan. She tried to stop thinking about that and concentrate instead on this moment, this man.

  A good thing Charles didn’t know her well enough to realize her heart wasn’t in it.

  But it could be. She just needed more time.

  She hadn’t expected to start dating so soon, didn’t even want another relationship. And yet here she was, drifting into one. But maybe it was okay, this drifting. Neither one of them making any special effort.

  Only that was how it started with Alan.

  And look how that turned out.

  ~ ~ ~

  Charles slid into the booth across from Alan. It was the first time they’d managed to have lunch together in a couple of months.

  “I’ve got good news and better news,” Charles said.

  “Oh?” Alan glanced up from the menu.

  “Tiffany and I finally called it quits.”

  “As if I haven’t heard that before.” Charles and Tiffany, off again, on again ever since they met.

  “No, this time it’s for good. But the better news is I’ve met somebody special.”

  “And why am I not surprised?” Heavy lunch and skip dinner, or light lunch?

  “Her name is Kathy Jamison.”

  Alan froze, the print on the menu going out of focus. No. It couldn’t be. Of all the women in the world. How could Charles. . . He took a breath and plunged ahead. “The Philly sandwich looks good.”

  But Charles refused to be diverted. “I met her jogging. And she plays a mean game of tennis.” He looked at Alan with a loopy grin on his face.

  Alan cleared his throat, hoping he could manage to sound normal. “So, what happened with Tiffany?”

  “She started dropping hints about her biological clock.”

  “And you, as we know, are anti-kid. And why is that exactly?” Alan had wondered for years but never felt comfortable asking. Right now, though, he’d do whatever it took to keep Charles off the subject of Kathy.

  “I was one, remember. Let’s just say kids cause problems. And they tie you down. Limit your options.”

  “So does any relationship.” It was something Alan had never understood about Charles—his inability to commit to a woman. Because Charles had been a good and loyal friend to him, even when he tried to push Charles away.

  “At least with a woman there are compensations.” Charles l
ooked up from his menu, the loopy grin back. “Did I mention she’s a redhead?”

  Definitely not the Philly sandwich. Soup. And he was going to have a hard time swallowing that.

  ~ ~ ~

  That evening, Alan stood in the dark of his apartment, looking out at the sky, knowing it was going to be another night when sleep would be elusive. He didn’t even need to close his eyes to picture Charles talking about Kathy with that happy expression on his face.

  No question, Charles was attracted. And Alan knew how women responded to Charles being attracted to them. The surprise was how Alan had reacted to knowing the woman who was currently attracting Charles was Kathy.

  How could he not have known how he felt about Kathy? So focused on missing Meg he’d missed that entirely.

  But, really, he had known.

  And now, thinking about Kathy with Charles. . .

  Would talk help that? But what else was there?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Elaine showed up at the ranch alone and asked Alan to go for a ride with her.

  “I found a shooting star growing here a couple of years ago,” she said, when they arrived at the lake. She swung off Siesta and turned to loosen the cinch. Cormac trotted off, busily following rabbit, squirrel, and chipmunk trails.

  “Near the aspens,” Alan said.

  When they located the flower, Elaine knelt to examine it then looked up at him. “The folks told me the tenure decision went against you. I was sorry to hear it.” She looked back at the flower.

  Feeling relieved they’d gotten that out of the way so painlessly, Alan walked to the edge of the lake. After a moment, Elaine joined him.