Chapter Twenty-Three 3 page

“Hello, Ms. Kemper? This is Lettie Gunn, your mother’s next-door neighbor. Your mother gave me your cell number in case there was ever an emergency and I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour.”

“Is my mother all right?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line and Paula could hear Mrs. Gunn wheezing. “I’m so sorry, sweetie, there’s been a terrible tragedy. Your mother had a heart attack this morning in the front yard. I hate to tell you this but she’s passed away.”

Chapter Five

When Steph saw the door to the church social hall, a nineteen-year-old memory clicked into place. Debbie had insisted Steph’s sweet sixteen birthday be a huge production and most of the junior class had been invited, people that Steph, Paula and Emilio secretly called the outer circle. As they’d scurried to finish the preparations, Paula picked up the enormous custom sheet cake Debbie had designed and created—one arm supporting each end—and it folded in half, as if she were closing a book. The picture of Paula and Steph that had been drawn in the middle was ruined, an enormous frosting crease splitting them apart.

“I’m so sorry, Steph,” she cried.

Steph assured her it was no big deal. She wasn’t superstitious and seeing the picture divided by a pile of confectioner’s sugar meant nothing. She never thought that moment could be slightly prophetic, but much like the cake everything had fallen apart after she went to Berkeley two years later. She’d never called Paula before she left for her grandparents’ place and the words certainly didn’t come easier as more time passed. Steph learned that Paula had never returned to Eugene, deciding to settle in Seattle permanently and enroll at the University of Washington. Her life had ascended into the stratosphere of corporate success while Steph’s plummeted into the toilet.

Over the years the tenderness of Paula’s lips had faded from her memory as she reinvented herself as a doctor’s wife and socialite. The greedy monster that was time ate up their friendship and left Steph with bittersweet memories that only surfaced by accident, surprising her at unexpected moments. She’d see a woman who resembled Paula or she’d stumble upon a lesbian couple kissing as she channel-surfed late at night and she was drawn back to the afternoons behind the granite rock.

Now she sat in the Beemer while water pellets plopped onto the windshield. Francine’s mourners slowly made their way into the church, most of them native Oregonians oblivious to the light rain that dusted their dark clothing. The visitors were obvious, with their sheltering umbrellas as they hustled toward the doors.

She debated whether to join them and face the awkward reunions she was sure to find inside the vestibule, particularly with Paula. Would she be angry? Would she throw her out? Unlikely. Their friendship was the anchor to the past and gave her permission to intrude on this intimate occasion. She was here for Francine—her friend, her second mother. She couldn’t believe it’d been only a week since she’d visited her. Francine had obviously been very ill, but she’d still wanted to see Steph. And Steph had promised to make amends with Paula.

She sighed and reached for her compact. She glanced through the windshield at a balding, handsome man with a buff physique standing in front of the car. It took a second to recognize her old friend Emilio Santos. He’d been one of only two boys brave enough to join the cheer squad, and she and Paula had instantly befriended him. On many Friday nights he’d literally held her life in his hands as she vaulted to the top of the pyramid at the end of a routine. He was always the base and she was always the cherry on top, according to Paula.

He held out his arms until she got out of the car and hugged him tightly for a long time.

“I expected a phone call from you about fifteen years ago,” he said. “I’ve missed your homemade muffins,” he added, referring to the blueberry muffins she traditionally brought to practice.

She gazed into his chocolate brown eyes. He’d always had the face of a model and time had been kind. Traces of gray marked his temples and laugh lines outlined his mouth. She suspected he spent life with a perpetual smile on his face, like the one he offered her now.

“Would you believe me if I said I’d been kidnapped by wolves and living in the Amazon?”

He laughed. “You know that wolves are not indigenous to the Amazon?”

“Caught.”

She blinked away tears and he chuckled. He made an approving sound while his eyes wandered up and down her body.

“Girlfriend, you look hot. Is this Armani?” he asked, gesturing to the simple black silk dress she wore.

“No, it’s Chanel.”

“Ah, well, it’s perfect on you.”

He kissed her on the cheek and it wasn’t until that moment that she realized how much she’d missed him. They’d dated for a short time during junior year but it never felt right and she couldn’t explain it. Like everything else, Emilio just accepted it and they went on as friends until she abandoned him along with Paula. Years later she learned he’d come out of the closet and their dating frustrations finally made sense.

He took her hand and they climbed the steps leading into the vestibule. “You know that I called and wrote?”

She nodded. “This is all on me.” She stopped and stared at him. “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought of you.”

“Yeah, I do.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and said, “So I expect us to catch up, but for now will you be my date to this gig?”

“Is it appropriate to bring a date to a memorial service?”

He peered inside the church at the multitude of people, only some of whom she vaguely recognized. “I’m figuring that you want an escort.”

She took a deep breath. “You got that right.”

“Have you spoken to Paula?”

She nearly tripped and he steadied her. “Not since high school.”

He offered a wise, sad smile and led her down the center aisle. In a group clustered near the front she recognized Paula’s gorgeous chestnut hair from the back. A throng of acquaintances separated them. Etiquette demanded she acknowledge the others, greeting each one with warm courtesy. She was certain that they’d stayed in Paula’s life, for she’d always been fabulous about maintaining relationships. Steph imagined Paula had a few hundred friends on Facebook and Twittered regularly while taking pictures with her cell phone was a struggle for her.

The outer circle of friends had grown and multiplied. Many had married and their children wriggled between Mom and Dad. Steph knew none of their names, and in many cases she was totally unaware that they existed. She felt old in an instant, despite the fact that she was the parent of a teenager too.

As she engaged in pleasantries with these virtual strangers, her gaze flitted to Paula constantly. While she herself was a tiny blonde, Paula was her opposite, a tall, olive-skinned, dark-haired beauty. Her black pantsuit was clearly tailor-made and clung to her curves perfectly. She looked fit, as though she could lead everyone through a cheer at any moment. Her Blackberry rang and she drifted away from the group to take the call.

A younger woman dressed in a button-down shirt and dark pants moved next to her and wrapped her arms around Paula’s waist. She immediately removed the woman’s arms and stepped out of the embrace but a pang of jealousy pinched Steph.

Before Steph could approach her, the organist’s sad melody began, signaling everyone to their seats. She’d intentionally arrived with only a few minutes to spare, to avoid lengthy, painful introductions and non-sequiturs that could never bridge the many years of distance that separated her from the high school crowd. But now she found herself longing for a moment alone with Paula before the emotional goodbye to Francine.

There wasn’t a casket at the front and Steph remembered that Francine had mentioned often that she wanted to be cremated and scattered somewhere near the ocean. Her love of all things nautical, particularly lighthouses, had brought her to Oregon years before and probably accounted for her attraction to her husband Paul, a Navy man.

The program reflected Paula’s attention to detail and her intelligent nature. Many of the outer circle read poetry and sadness tugged at Steph’s heart. She was no part of this, although many years before, she and Paula had been practically sisters, as close as any two people could be. When one of their fellow cheerleaders read Thanatopsis, Francine’s favorite poem, Steph knew that if she were still a part of Paula’s life, she would have been awarded that honor.

Movement caught her eye and she noticed a well-dressed man had slipped into the pew across from her. She watched him carefully, trying to place him. He wiped a hand across his face and she realized he’d spent a lot of time at Paula’s house. He was Francine’s attorney—Ted something—and a good friend apparently.

As the poetry reading ended he removed a handkerchief from his suit jacket and dabbed at his eyes. It was such a touching show of sentiment and she couldn’t pull her gaze away. His shoulders hunched and he hung his head. He’s sobbing. Apparently overcome with grief, he hurried out again.

When it was Paula’s turn to speak, her voice cracked as she shared some memories of her mother, and Steph felt they were once again united in their mutual loss of a parent. She learned things about Francine she’d never known. She’d been questioned by Joe McCarthy in the fifties and met her husband while she worked for the CIA overseas. Steph knew Francine was nearly forty when she’d finally married, and the first time Steph met her, she’d mistaken her for Paula’s grandmother.

The age difference between their parents often made for some funny stories, because what Francine thought was hip or popular, such as furniture or clothing choices, was about fifteen years out of style. Steph knew the generation gap had caused Paula some embarrassment over the years, like the time when her mother gave her an Etta James record rather than Rick James’s latest album.

As Paula recounted a humorous anecdote, a cell phone chimed and everyone glanced about, wondering who was callous enough to leave a phone on.

“Sorry,” Paula said quietly, checking the Caller ID before turning it off and continuing her eulogy without losing a beat.

She spoke about her mother’s love of lighthouses and reading but Steph sensed a detachment in her voice. She remembered Francine hadn’t mentioned Paula when she’d visited, except to ask her to reconnect with Paula. She wondered how long it had been since Paula had visited her mother.

“I guess the most important quality my mother possessed was her helpful nature…” Her voice trailed off when her eyes locked on Steph. She fumbled with her notes until she found her place. “Sorry, again,” she said absently before she continued.

After the benediction everyone filed out into the rain, which had become thicker during the service. A lunch was planned in the social hall and the procession of mourners filed out, passing a picture display depicting Francine’s life, a great span of time Steph knew nothing about back then and never cared to know. They were young and their parents were old. It was painful enough to endure their own family anecdotes but to subject their friends to each other’s boring histories would’ve been unthinkable and uncool.

Another acquaintance cornered Emilio while Steph flipped through the old photo albums, finding many pictures of Paula and herself and the years leading to their graduation. Steph’s sudden absence in the later photos was probably noticeable to no one but herself, and she wished a pictorial existed that could explain what had happened and at what exact moment they abandoned their friendship for good. When had too many years passed to send an I’m Thinking of You card? And why had she never sent her an e-mail?

“I wouldn’t be angry if you ducked out.”

Paula’s voice surprised her and she jumped slightly before she turned around. Paula greeted her with a strained smile, so unlike the innocent grin she’d always worn as a cheer captain. Her eyes were tired and her expression was tainted by the emotional upheaval of losing a parent.

They embraced and Steph whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Paula held her at arm’s length while her eyes probed her body. Steph couldn’t breathe. She was accustomed to men leering at her but a wave of energy surged through her as Paula jumpstarted her libido and reminded her that she was still sexy.

“You look…great. It’s good to see you but like I said, if you want to go, I’d understand.”

“Do you want me to leave? Would that be easier?”

Paula was clearly shocked by her bluntness. It was a quality Steph had only developed in the last ten years after learning to stand up to Lawrence about his affairs.

“Is the luncheon that bad?” Steph added.

Paula laughed slightly and the tension broke. “I could always count on you, Steph. You made me feel better whenever I was upset.”

“Well, not always.”

Paula’s gaze swept about the room, assessing the other mourners. She touched her collar absently, a nervous habit she’d picked up senior year when she quit smoking.

“I want to catch up but I don’t think I have time for the entire seventeen years. So I’ll just ask if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. You need to make the rounds. Go.”

“Are you staying for lunch?”

“Um, well…”

Steph hadn’t intended to stay this long but she’d been caught in the line of people headed to the display. The thought of old friends peppering her with questions she had no desire to answer was not appealing.

Paula drew her into a corner, away from the crowd. “I imagine it’s difficult to be back here but it means a lot to me that you came.”

“I had to be here,” she said honestly.

Paula looked away again and Steph followed her gaze, toward the woman in the button-down shirt and chinos. She was talking to Melissa, a fellow cheerleader from high school. The stranger whispered something and Melissa burst into laughter.

“Who’s that?” she asked.

“My girlfriend, Shelby.” Paula’s expression remained neutral, free of jealousy despite the open flirting that was occurring between the two women. “She insisted on coming even though my mother had no idea she existed and half the people here had no idea I was gay until now.” She added with a sharp tone, “It would help if she’d stop announcing to everyone that she’s my lover.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Steph said casually. “I didn’t even know, at least not officially,” she added.

Paula flashed a wry smile. “That’s because you and I haven’t spoken for nearly twenty years. A lot of these people send me Christmas cards, stop by and visit when they’re in Seattle or e-mail me regularly. They didn’t need to find out I was a lesbian at my mother’s memorial service. This is supposed to be about her, not me.” She held up her hands and shook her head. “Why am I telling you all of this?”

“Because you can tell me anything.”

Steph thought Paula might cry. The years of separation crumbled around them and they stood surrounded by the past.

“God, Steph, I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

Paula glanced back at the mourners before she said, “Come with me.”

She led Steph through the back door to the meditation garden. Fall flowers burst around them, enjoying the slight drizzle the rain had become.

“It’s nearly stopped raining,” Steph observed as they sat on a bench away from the windows.

Paula shook her head. “Please don’t talk about the weather. I know we haven’t spoken in forever but let’s not sink that low. There are a hundred different things I want to ask you and another hundred memories I’d like to share with you again. But I don’t want to pretend or be casual.”

“Okay,” Steph whispered, not knowing where to begin.

After seventeen years she was inches away from Paula. Suddenly everything she remembered about her flawless skin, full red lips and deep blue eyes seemed a ridiculous caricature compared to the natural beauty who sat beside her. She’d envied Paula’s effortless good looks through high school and time had sculpted wisdom and laugh lines that added to her loveliness.

Paula leaned against her and sighed. “I’ve missed you,” she said again in a dreamy voice.

She brought Steph’s hand to her lips and Steph thought she might fall over after the first kiss. She suddenly felt dizzy and grabbed the edge of the bench.

Paula’s fingers traced the rings she wore—a diamond and a ruby in each respectively. While Steph had removed her wedding ring, she wouldn’t surrender the ruby Lawrence had bought for her thirtieth birthday or the simple diamond chip that Eric purchased for her thirty-fifth.

“You’ve obviously done well for yourself,” she said.

“Rich husband.”

Paula raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Steph glanced back at the social hall, wondering what Shelby would think of this moment. Or Francine.

“You don’t think your mom ever suspected you were gay?” she thought to ask.

“No, I was very careful. I treated myself like one of my own PR clients, someone who had to be sold to an audience, namely my mother. She had to believe I fit a certain persona.”

“So what did you do to sell yourself?”

Paula laughed. “All kinds of things. I had fake boyfriends and we took fictitious vacations and there was even a pretend proposal that just didn’t work out. And of course I never brought anyone home for her to meet except my fake boyfriends.”

“Didn’t you feel like you were living a lie?”

“Absolutely, but I certainly couldn’t tell her. Steph, you have to remember that my mother was born an entire generation before everyone else’s parents. She never fit in.” She leaned back, craning her neck upward, exposing the fine curve of her chin. “My mother was so backward that she still called black people ‘colored.’ Can you believe it?”

“Well, I know she was a little old-fashioned—”

“A little? When I got my period, Mom was so out of touch she didn’t know about tampons. For two months I wore those thick pads. Until you finally got your period. Your mother was the one who showed us how to use tampons, remember?”

Steph nodded, thinking about that Saturday afternoon when she’d gotten her period while Paula was over at the house. She was mortified but Debbie never blinked. Fortunately it was early enough in the afternoon that she was still sober. She huddled in the bathroom with them and pulled out her box of Tampax. They were mesmerized by the process and asked several embarrassing questions that Debbie answered with true sincerity. It was her mother at one of her best moments.

“Francine could barely say the word menstruation,” Paula said. “She would have fainted if she’d walked in on us with your mom holding the tampon over her vagina.” They both laughed, imagining the usual pained expression Francine wore when confronted by a nouveau idea that shocked her.

“Look, I know that it was politically incorrect for me to keep this from her, but I just couldn’t tell her and I don’t regret it. Maybe it would’ve been different if my dad hadn’t died…”

“Did she ever give you a hard time about grandchildren?”

She made a face. “Sometimes. She blamed my career and told me that I worked too hard and that’s why I couldn’t keep a man.”

“So is Shelby your wife?” she asked reluctantly.

“Oh, no, she just came down to help me with the house. We’re in the midst of deciding about our relationship.”

“Deciding what?”

“Whether we’re ready to take that next step—living together. It’s a long story.”

It’s a long story. That’s what you say to someone you hardly know and don’t want to bore with the details. Steph realized they were strangers. Seventeen years had flown by and they’d evolved into different people with new biographies, new views on the world and probably different tastes in music and art. If she had to step into a store and buy her a gift, she wouldn’t have the slightest idea what to purchase.

“I should really go,” Steph said and pulled her hand away. “I loved your mom. She was a great lady and always so kind to me.”

Paula started to cry. “Thanks.” She took a breath and centered her emotions again. “How long are you in town? Maybe we could get together?”

Her cheeks warmed. “Actually, I moved back a few months ago.”

Paula made no attempt to hide her shock. “You live here? I’d have thought a world-famous doctor with a degree from Berkeley would be practicing in New York or Chicago.”

“Not quite,” she whispered. “I’m not a doctor. I only went to Berkeley for a year.”

“What?”

“It’s like you said. It’s a really long story. I need to go.”

Steph started to leave but Paula grabbed her arm. “Oh, no, wait a sec. You don’t get to leave after that, no matter how long the story is. You’re not a doctor?”

“No.”

She obviously sensed her embarrassment. “Doctor’s assistant?”

Steph chuckled slightly and shook her head. “Nope. Doctor’s wife.”

“Ah,” she said. “Happily married?”

“Getting divorced—finally,” she added, but she didn’t know why. That one word caught Paula’s attention and she raised an eyebrow. “I do need to go,” Steph said again, glancing at Paula’s fingers gripping her forearm.

She let go but stepped closer until their lips were only inches apart. “Steph, can I ask you one more question?”

“Sure.”

“You knew I was gay, right? After everything that happened between us?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I thought it was obvious. And that’s why after all these years I find it hard to believe that your mom didn’t suspect. Her beautiful daughter never marries—”

Paula ran a finger down her cheek and her touch burned a path to Steph’s chin. “You think I’m beautiful? I’ve always thought you were. I loved wrapping my finger around your hair and just… being near you. Do you remember the afternoons behind the rock?”

Steph knew she was blushing and the memory of their last afternoon together flooded her mind. The two of them half-naked. Paula’s hand between her legs. When she finally looked up into Paula’s intense blue eyes, she couldn’t answer. Her mouth felt as if it were filled with glue.

Paula lifted her chin and the heat between them intensified. Just walk away, Steph. That’s all you need to do. But she couldn’t move and she couldn’t speak. When Paula brought their lips together, the nerves in her toes reacted. It was an easy, comfortable kiss, reminiscent of the ones they shared years ago.

She looked into her eyes. “Well, you didn’t run away screaming and you’re not swearing at me. Those are positive signs. Maybe I’m crazy but I’ve thought about kissing you every day for the last seventeen years.”

Steph stepped back. “You shouldn’t read too much into… that. You caught me totally off guard. And what about Shelby? Should you really be kissing me? We’re at your mother’s memorial service.”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure it matters to Shelby. She’s having an affair with the woman sponsoring her art show. Maybe it’s just business but I’m not sure.”

Steph couldn’t understand how sex equated to business. It was clear that Paula lived in a different world, one where the two intertwined. Steph’s experience with Lawrence had taught her that sex was recreational, his escape from work and his life with her.

Paula took her hand again. “I don’t want to talk about Shelby. And you didn’t answer my question. Do you remember our last afternoon behind the rock?”

Steph looked down at their intertwined fingers and laughed. “Seriously, Paula, you know I’m not gay. I was married for almost twenty years. I have a son.”

How many times during their youth had they grabbed each other’s hands and run across the playground? During high school Paula routinely took her arm as they walked through the halls, always laughing and giggling. They were inseparable.

“I know you think I’m crazy and maybe I am. I just got through telling you that I was pissed at Shelby for outing me to our friends, and yet here I am holding you in my arms wanting to kiss you again at my mother’s memorial service.” She looked up with a sardonic expression. “Sorry, Mom.”

But Steph could sense she wasn’t sorry at all and she heard that detachment again. She willed herself to move away or run to the parking lot but she couldn’t. Given the choice between the comfort of distance and the emotions crackling between them each time they moved closer, she chose nearness.

Paula parted her luscious lips and licked them. Please kiss me again. I want to feel something inside. Instead she whispered, “Steph, honey, you may have been married and you may be straight, but you kissed me back.”

Chapter Six

Paula’s kiss had changed everything, bringing forth memories Steph had packed away years before. Standing in the garden and staring into her gorgeous blue eyes had been like opening the door and locating something she’d lost—passion.

She blushed when she thought of what might’ve happened had Paula invited her into the church, tool shed or the backseat of her car. She gripped the steering wheel tighter as she zoomed down the highway, realizing that she probably would’ve done anything with her, ignoring the sacred place or the solemnity of the occasion.

But Paula had restrained herself and walked Steph out to the Beemer. She asked to see a picture of Eric, who, she declared, was as perfect as his mother. She’d invited Steph to help with her mother’s house the next day and quizzed her for another twenty minutes about her life. Before Steph had pulled away, she promised to tell Paula more details of her real life, essentially undoing all of Debbie’s stories, and Paula promised to kiss her again.

Steph’s fingers absently touched her lips. It was ridiculous but she still felt the heat of her kiss. Her lips were the epicenter and the rest of her body swirled in desire. She took a deep breath and shifted in the bucket seat.

She enjoyed driving highway 126 the artery that connected Eugene with the coast. The road stretched through a long valley dotted with wineries and towns like Veneta and Walton. Along the hillsides endless rows of grapevines ensured that the Willamette Valley would remain a supplier of fine Pinot Noir. It was always a battle to stay focused since the drive was easy, the entire ribbon of highway visible for miles. Few patrolmen monitored the Valley since accidents were infrequent and speeders would easily recognize their cruisers half a mile away.

The Siuslaw Mountains loomed in the distance and the straightaway eventually became an obstacle course of winding uphill curves. She navigated the turns, passing the tiny hamlets that dotted the highway until she ran out of land. She turned onto the 101, the Pacific Ocean straddling her left shoulder. The road meandered along the coast and up a hill toward Heceta.

She found Caroline in the kitchen preparing apple strudel for tomorrow’s breakfast. Every room was booked primarily by straight or gay couples looking for the same romantic experience that had initially enchanted Caroline and Rick.

“How can I help?” Steph asked, shedding her purse and keys onto a sideboard.

Caroline’s gaze swept about the room, assessing progress. “At this point I’ve got it all under control. The rolls you made earlier are baking for dinner and you got a great compliment this morning from the Steiners. They absolutely adored your banana bread and want some to take with them when they leave tomorrow morning.”

“So noted. I’ll make two loaves tonight.”

“But that’s it for now. In another hour I could use you. I’ll be ready to set the table. How was the funeral?”

Steph grabbed an apple from a bowl and studied it, avoiding her gaze. “It was nice. Paula did a great job celebrating Francine’s life.”

“And how’s Paula?”

She took a bite and stalled. How could she answer that? She’s more beautiful than ever and we dishonored her mother by kissing in the garden. Although Caroline knew nothing about the details of their destroyed friendship, she’d asked enough general questions to surmise they were no longer in touch.

“Under the circumstances, I’d say she’s holding up pretty well. They were always so close.”

Caroline nodded. “I know. I’d see Francine in Eugene periodically and she talked incessantly about Paula. ‘Paula just got a promotion,’ or ‘Paula’s managing some big accounts now,’ or ‘Paula just bought a great condo.’ But she never said it in a stuck-up way,” she quickly added.

Steph knew what she meant. Francine didn’t have a pompous bone in her body.

“Damn it, where’s the salt!” Caroline looked about, her hands on her hips. “I used it right before you came in.”

“Maybe Rue took it.”

Rue was the famed Grey Lady ghost that haunted Heceta Head and preferred Victoria’s Room. Everyone had seen her except Steph, and although she believed Caroline and Rick were perfectly sane people, until she saw the old bat herself she wasn’t buying it.

Date: 2015-12-18; view: 554