Chapter Twenty-Three 8 page

“Ted, I appreciate your help. I’ll call you after I read through all of this. I doubt I’ll change my mind, though.”

Ted’s gaze again fell on their intertwined hands. “Just think about it, Paula. It’s a lot of money. Um, are you two involved?”

Steph immediately dropped her hand and shook her head. “No, we’re just friends.”

Paula frowned but refused to respond. She looked back at Ted. “One more thing. Do you have the combination to her safe?”

He looked quizzical. “I didn’t even know she had one.”

Paula started to go but turned around in the doorway. “And for the record I think you were plenty good enough for her.”

Chapter Fourteen

They pulled back into Francine’s driveway but Paula remained still, holding the manila folders on her lap, staring out the windshield. She’d asked Steph to drive and then said nothing else. Steph couldn’t imagine what she was thinking. While her life was a mess and she’d hated it for a long time, she’d only had one curve ball thrown at her—Eric. The rest she’d signed up for. Paula had been blindsided.

Paula made a guttural sound, jerked open the car door and threw up. She raced into the house, discarding her fortune on the front seat. After Steph hosed off the driveway and collected the folders, she went inside. Paula wasn’t in the bathroom but Steph noticed the mouthwash had been left on the sink.

“Paula?” she called.

Paula screamed and there was a tinny thud. Steph jumped and knocked the mouthwash bottle onto the floor. She ran through the house and found her in the office behind the desk, wielding a sledgehammer. She brought it down against the safe barely making a dent in the top. Bleary-eyed, she bashed the metal repeatedly with little effect. Her screams evaporated as she concentrated on her swing. When she could no longer lift the hammer over her head, she dropped it and rested against the desk. She’d managed to break off the dial and crack the door but she couldn’t open it—even with a crowbar.

“You fucking bitch!” she yelled. She kicked the safe several times until she grabbed her foot in pain, falling onto the carpet.

“Shit, Paula.”

Steph took off Paula’s shoe and checked her foot, which was already turning black and blue but didn’t seem to be broken. She tossed the crowbar and sledgehammer out of reach and pulled her into her arms.

She sobbed. “I suppose you think I’m insane.”

“No, I’m stunned by what your mother did with her fortune and the will. I don’t even know what to say.”

“Well, I do. She was a horrible, prejudiced, awful woman who obviously never loved me.” She wiped her eyes on her shirt and stared up at her. “I don’t care about the money, Steph. I really don’t. In fact I don’t want anything from her—not one cent.”

Steph said slowly, “I can’t even imagine how hurt you are but I think you need to think this through clearly.”

“I am,” she said confidently. She stood up. “Let me show you something.”

They wandered into the guest bedroom and she picked up a picture from the dresser. It was a black-and-white photo of her and Steph on the day Paula won the regional spelling bee. They stood arm in arm, staring into the camera.

“Tell me what you see,” she said.

Steph chose her words carefully, fearful that any response could cause Paula to hurl the photo into the dresser mirror. “It’s us on the day you won the regional bee.” She squeezed her arm. “I was so proud of you.”

“Do you remember the dress you’re wearing?”

She looked closely at the gingham dress. “Oh, yeah. When my mom found out I could go with you to the County Courthouse, she insisted I have something worthy of such an important occasion. She was so worried I’d embarrass you or Francine.”

Paula laughed maniacally. “I was the embarrassment. Your mother took you out to buy a new dress. Do you know what my mother did? Nothing. She said my pink skirt and white blouse were fancy enough. It wasn’t like I was meeting the governor.”

Steph looked closely at the picture, noticing the difference between their expressions. Paula’s smile was tight, almost painful, while she was joyful over Paula’s good fortune.

She stepped behind her and wrapped her in a hug. “Hey, it doesn’t matter. You won, regardless of what you wore.”

She shook her head and stepped out of the embrace. “I won but I was totally humiliated. When I went to take my place on the stage before it started, the woman who was running the bee gave me this disapproving look and pulled me into the bathroom. She grabbed some paper towels and soap, trying to shine my scuffed shoes and rub out a paint stain on the sleeve of my shirt. She told me that she thought it was great that a poor girl like me could be so smart. Maybe I could get a scholarship to college.” She picked up the picture and Steph thought she might smash it against the dresser, but instead she tossed it into a nearby box. “Apparently my mother had enough money to buy properties and lighthouses but she didn’t care enough about her own daughter’s pride.” She stared at Steph, her eyes on fire. “You weren’t even in the fucking bee and Debbie made sure you looked nice.”

She went back to the office to work on the safe but the door wouldn’t budge. “I don’t know what the hell is in here but I don’t need any more surprises. She probably hired a PI to take pictures of me kissing my girlfriends.”

For the next hour they tried to pry the door with any tool they could find. Admitting defeat, Steph went to the kitchen and retrieved the bottle of scotch Paula had found. It reminded Steph of her father, who preferred scotch to any other drink.

“I can’t understand what the hell your mother sees in that terrible JD crap,” he’d often said.

She took the bottle and some highball glasses with ice to the office. Paula was on the floor, propped up against the wall, looking dejected. She handed her a drink and sat down next to her.

“You must think I’m an ungrateful bitch,” she said, gulping the scotch.

“No, I think I get it. You had this whole understanding of your life and it’s not true.”

Paula reached for the bottle and poured another glass. “It’s more than that. That codicil was the most hurtful and terrible thing she ever could’ve done. She’s slapping me from the grave.” She turned and faced her. “I won’t lie. I’d like that inheritance. It’s security for the future. But I won’t pay the price. By adding that condition she proved that it was more important to control me than make a better life for me once she was gone.”

“You’re right,” Steph agreed. She sat quietly next to her. There was absolutely nothing she could say to help and she was just as mortified by Francine’s homophobia.

Paula swirled the scotch, watching the brown liquid melt the ice. “Right now your mother is looking like a fucking saint.”

She had a point. After Steph moved to Scottsdale and had Eric, Debbie was a decent grandparent, always sending gifts and calling. Even when she came and visited she never embarrassed Eric or Lawrence.

“I’m not sure I’d use the word saint but you’re right. Debbie wouldn’t do anything like this. She’s not mean, she’s just…”

“Debbie.”

They finished their drinks, staring at the safe. She wondered if Paula was right and it contained the proof of her lesbianism.

“How do you think your mother found out about you? Was it just a hunch?”

Paula shook her head. “I know exactly how she figured it out.” She laughed. “Well, she didn’t figure out anything. I’m positive my ex told her.”

“Shelby?”

“No, Nia. She was the only other woman I’ve ever loved, other than you.”

She was stabbed with jealousy. “Why would she do that?”

“Hell hath no fury…”

“Did you break up with her? Was she pissed?”

She set down her glass and crossed her legs. “The simple version of the story is that I wouldn’t tell my mother about us. We were deeply in love and looking to spend our lives together. Nia even wanted to have a child. I’d almost convinced myself to call my mom and tell her the truth but every time I picked up the phone, I couldn’t punch in the numbers. My hand froze. Nia got angrier and angrier. Our worst fight happened when she threatened to call Francine herself. I was enraged and threw things. I scared her and she backed off for a while but soon we were fighting again. Eventually she walked out and I couldn’t blame her.”

“But why do you think she told Francine?”

She sighed. “She told me she had. A week after we broke up she called me from a bar. She was wasted. She said she’d done me a huge favor and told Francine the truth. I hung up and immediately called Mom but she seemed entirely normal on the phone. I assumed Nia was bluffing and didn’t think about it again. I wouldn’t believe that someone I’d loved so much could ever do something so cruel. Apparently she did.”

“So she thought you chose preserving your mom’s delicate nature over a life with her.”

She offered a guilty smile. “Didn’t I?” Steph opened her mouth but she waved her off. “I did what I had to do. Nia didn’t know Francine and she’d never seen all of this.” She gestured toward the antique desk and the old-fashioned chairs that sat in front of it. Steph’s favorite accessory was the nineteen-sixties era stapler that was heavy enough to be a weapon.

Paula took a breath and looked at her. “Do you think I did the right thing?”

She kissed the side of her head. “I can’t answer that, sweetie.” She thought of Eric and her decision to keep him—and the role Francine had played in that decision. “We all do the best we can,” she said.

“That’s true,” she agreed.

Steph sighed. “Look, I don’t think anyone is all good or bad. Francine had a tough road, dealing with your dad’s death and raising you alone…” She let the sentence fade away. She wouldn’t deny what she knew was the truth. She’d told Paula a hundred times during their youth that she envied her relationship with her mother. Francine was normal.

“She certainly had her faults,” Paula said flatly.

She wanted to move Paula away from the suffocating darkness she faced. “Yes, but did your mother ever spike the punch at a high school dance when she was the chaperone?”

Paula couldn’t stifle the laugh brought on by the effects of the scotch. They were both feeling no pain. “God, that was so funny. And do you remember how Principal Drury drank the most? He thought it was the greatest punch he’d ever tasted.”

They snuggled together and eventually Paula fell asleep, her chest rising and falling. Steph closed her eyes and thought of the hundreds of times she’d joyfully trudged up the hill, relieved that she’d escaped Debbie’s chaos. So often Paula had anticipated her arrival and was sitting on the window seat against the huge bay window near the front door, usually reading a book. Steph would stand on the sidewalk, watching her beautiful face through the glass until she looked up and laughed. It was a little game that they played for years.

She thought that bay window was her looking glass inside the Kemper house. She thought she understood Francine and the kind of person she was. She’d believed that as Paula saw her family raw and exposed, she’d seen hers. She never fathomed that Francine’s kindness and decorum were intertwined with a moral superiority that she wielded like a knife, excising pieces of Paula’s self-esteem and pride.

As the day paled into twilight, splashing light and dark across the office, she gently pulled away from Paula and went to the living room. She gazed out the window at the well-manicured yards surrounding the Kemper house. It was a lovely picture and perhaps that was why Paula was always smiling when she saw her on the sidewalk. It was her chance to look out and forget what existed over her shoulder.

Chapter Fifteen

Several hours later Steph loaded Paula into her car and drove her back to Heceta Head. They trudged up to Victoria’s Room, Paula’s arms wrapped around her shoulders. Steph was reminded of her childhood and carrying Debbie up the stairs after her nightly binges. She tucked Paula in and debated whether to crawl underneath the cozy comforter with her but decided against it. She didn’t want to complicate her living situation with Caroline and Rick.

Steph fell into her own bed certain that she would face another sleepless night. She hadn’t put three thoughts together when her eyes closed and she was on the light rail in Phoenix going through a tunnel. Francine was next to her, holding her hand as she did the day she went to her for advice. The train’s lights flicked off and she was lying next to Eric in the racecar bed he owned when he was eight. He wore a look of terror from a bad dream. She kissed his head and stroked his hair until he fell back to sleep. She turned over and Lawrence was next to her, kissing her and pulling at her panties. He mounted her and pushed her deeper into the darkness until she fell through a hole and landed on the path to Heceta.

Fog enveloped her and she could only see the outlines of trees and plants. The beacon flashed and she moved toward it, unsure of every step. If she veered too far to the left, she could tumble down the steep ravine that bordered the trail. The mist thickened and she could barely breathe. It was as if a length of crepe cocooned her, a veil over her eyes. The sensation disoriented her and she was dizzy.

Then she heard a woman’s laugh and a figure brushed past her, directing the fog toward Heceta Head. Wild hair fluttered in the mist, surrounding a faceless visage. The beacon grew closer, its light brilliant and comforting. She stepped forward, freed from the mist—and found herself at the cliff’s edge. She lurched backward, a scream bursting from her lips, and fell onto the soft grass. When she gazed up at the lighthouse, two figures stood against the glass next to the giant lens—her mother and Paula.

She sat up in bed covered in sweat, the sheet wrapped around her body like a swaddling blanket. She untangled herself and padded to the kitchen for a drink of water.

Standing at the window she gazed at Heceta, a stalwart sentinel in the distance. A chill passed through her and a low giggle nibbled her ear. The glass slipped through her fingers and shattered on the tile floor.

“What happened to you?” Caroline asked as she hobbled into the kitchen the next morning.

She leaned against the counter, favoring her left foot. “I had a little accident with a glass last night and I cut myself but I’m pretty sure I got it all picked up. You don’t need to worry.”

She’d been barefoot trying to maneuver around the broken glass in the dark kitchen and she’d stepped on a large shard when she went for the dustpan. It took nearly an hour to clean everything up since her hands shook so violently. She was certain she’d heard a giggle and it kept repeating in her brain as she attempted to make sense of it.

“Rue didn’t startle you, did she?” Caroline asked.

She whipped her head to the side and saw Caroline’s smirk. “Of course not. I’m just a klutz.”

Caroline grabbed a melon to slice, the smirk sliding into a grin. “It wouldn’t be the first time she’s made somebody jump. I thought Rick cut his finger off one night when she giggled in his ear.”

Steph gripped the counter and said nothing. Feet on the staircase made them both look over at Paula, who hugged the handrail. “I could really use some aspirin,” she mumbled.

“First shelf of the cabinet over the toaster,” Caroline said.

Paula shuffled past Steph, planting a kiss on her lips. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” she said, eyeing Caroline, who wore an amused expression.

She said nothing and Steph assumed her morning baking duties, albeit slowly.

“What’s wrong with your foot?” Paula asked.

“Rue scared her,” Caroline said before she could respond.

“She did not. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“I disagree,” Paula said, downing four aspirins. “I’m a big a believer in the spirit world. And I’d think you’d be happy to finally have an exchange with Rue, seeing as you’re the only one who hasn’t seen her.”

“I didn’t see her this time, either. I only heard her,” she conceded.

Caroline laughed. “I knew it. That means she likes you.”

Steph thought about the odd dream and the wild-haired woman leading her down the path to Heceta. Was that Rue?

“What are your plans for today, Paula?” Caroline asked. “Don’t you leave in a few days?”

“On Friday.”

Steph looked down, hoping Paula couldn’t see her sad face. Despite the madness that surrounded her mother’s death and her own divorce, being with Paula was heavenly. And the idea of her friendship—and her lips—drifting two hundred miles away instantly depressed Steph.

“I still need to make more progress on the house but I’m curious about the other properties my mother owned.”

“What other properties?” Caroline asked, and Paula updated her on the will, carefully avoiding the codicil. Caroline nodded and said, “I think I heard your mother bought Tillamook. I’d just forgotten.”

Paula wrapped her arms around Steph. “Will you go with me and look at these places?” She kissed her cheek and Steph laughed. “Please?”

“Sure, but I promised Caroline and Rick I’d help them with some gardening first.”

“A lot of help you’ll be now that you’re injured,” Caroline said.

“I’ll pick up Steph’s slack,” Paula offered. “I’m really tired of packing boxes.” She nuzzled her neck.

Caroline shook her head. “God, it’s like when the two of you were teenagers.”

“Really?” Steph asked. “Were we that obvious?”

She snorted and picked up the beverage tray. “You were inseparable. It was the late eighties so I don’t think people immediately thought you were gay but you fawned all over each other all the time. And I’m not counting on either of you being much help outside,” she added as she left for the dining room.

Once they were alone, Paula’s mouth found Steph’s. Her kiss turned Steph to mush. She groped her breast and pressed against her.

“Why didn’t you stay with me last night?”

“You were too drunk to do anything and I didn’t want Caroline and Rick to know.”

“Oops. Sorry.” She stepped back and leaned against the opposite counter.

“I think it’s a little late.” Steph thought of the minutes ticking away until she flew back to Seattle. She didn’t want to waste any time so she floated back into her arms. “What if you don’t finish by Friday?”

“Then I’ll have to come back.” A smile broke through Steph’s depression and Paula caressed her cheek. “Would that be okay with you, if I spent a little more time in Eugene?”

She kissed her again, Paula’s hands stroking her shoulders, her arms. Steph heard a car door slam and ignored it. If Rick was back from the gym, he’d just have to enjoy the show. She intended to kiss Paula much more—and frequently. She buried her tongue deep in her mouth until she moaned.

A pounding on the window made them both jump. “What the hell!” a voice boomed.

It took Steph a few seconds to recognize the people on the other side of the glass. She fell away from Paula’s embrace and stared at Lawrence’s face, red and irate—and the slack-jawed expression of her son.

She rushed through the house, stopping them at the front door before they could disturb the guests, who would be coming down for breakfast. Lawrence seemed twice his size, his rage and surprise inflating him like an inner tube. Eric was just the opposite. He hunched over and his gaze remained glued to the ground, his hands in his pockets. Steph couldn’t imagine how embarrassed and betrayed he must feel.

“You’re not even going to let us inside?” Lawrence bellowed.

She led them around to the side yard, cradling her body, feeling suddenly chilled. She looked at Eric, who followed slowly, dragging his feet through the grass.

“I’m so sorry, son. I know you must be shocked.”

“Mom…” His voice broke apart. He obviously couldn’t put words together to explain what he saw. She reached for him and he stepped away. She thought she might collapse at his abandonment.

Lawrence paced back and forth, making a tread through the grass. He stared at the ground, his arms crossed. It was his customary response to an uncomfortable situation. Steph was used to it but the hospital executives had to constantly remind him about appropriate bedside manner since his patients didn’t appreciate his cold and often tactless summation of complications that occasionally arose after a gastric bypass or face-lift.

She took a breath. “Putting aside the little show you saw in the window—”

“What the hell is going on with you?” Lawrence bellowed. “Since when do you kiss women?”

Steph noticed Eric was standing off to the side, holding the fence. At the sight of her only child helpless and hurt, she started to shake and sob. She could care less about Lawrence but Eric’s pain was unbearable.

Lawrence clearly saw her tears as weakness. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her close. “I came to take you back, to plead for your forgiveness and this is what I find?”

She looked at Eric. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said between sobs.

Eric shuffled back to the rented Hummer and climbed inside. Steph moved to follow him but Lawrence tightened his grip on her wrists.

“You leave him alone. What are you now, a lesbo?” He spewed the question through clenched teeth and she barely understood him.

She glanced at the Hummer’s windshield but she couldn’t see Eric. Anger flared in her belly and she leaned closer to him. “You get your hands off me or I’ll knee you in the balls.”

A sick smile crawled on his face. “Is that what you learned with your dyke friend? How to play rough? I like rough,” he said, shoving her away so hard that she almost fell to the ground.

“Why are you here?” she asked slowly, trying to control the tremor in her voice.

“Like I said, we came to get you back. Eric wants his mommy,” Lawrence said, frowning like a child.

She shook her head. “That’s bullshit. Eric’s accepted our divorce. He hates your guts. He’s the one who encouraged me to leave you. How did you get him here?”

Lawrence grinned wickedly. “I told him that I was so distraught that I might do something to myself or get so drunk on the plane that I’d be arrested. He felt sorry for me.” Lawrence stuck out his lower lip.

“You are horrible. You deceived your own son. You lied to him to get him to leave school and come here.”

He snorted. “I’m thinking now he’ll forgive me. I may have been his least favorite parent five minutes ago but I think you’re at the top of the list now.”

She wanted to smack the smug expression off his face but a seed of vulnerability lodged itself in her heart. She’d rarely talked to Eric about gays but she knew he was rather open-minded and mature. But he’s also seventeen. It had to be shocking to see his mother making out with another woman.

“Why are you really here?”

“I’m telling the truth. I want you back. I kicked that slut out of the house so we can get on with our lives.”

“Really.”

“Really,” Lawrence said. He moved toward her and rubbed her shoulders. “C’mon, baby, you know you want me back. Don’t you miss me?” He pulled her against him and she could feel his erection. “And for the record,” he added, “you can bring any woman you want into our bed. I’m all for threesomes. Just the thought of it makes me hard.”

She jerked away, disgusted. Think, Steph. Why is he here? Then it hit her.

“What did your divorce attorney say? He agreed with mine, didn’t he? Arizona is a community property state and I’ll get half the practice. As much as you want to kick me to the curb, you can’t. I get half and I deserve it, Lawrence. A judge would see that.”

His smug expression vanished and he pushed his glasses further up on his face. He chewed on his cheek and pursed his lips. She’d figured out his motive and now he was thinking, analyzing, doing what he did best. Lawrence was an asshole, a cheater and a terrible father but he was brilliant. He had the best mind of anyone she knew and his business acumen had transformed his father’s simple surgical practice into a multimillion dollar corporation. And he didn’t believe she deserved a penny.

He turned to the Hummer and stared at it for a long time before he faced her again. When he did, his expression had softened, devoid of emotion.

“Okay, cards on the table. Yes, I came here to get you back because it’s cheaper for me. And I still think we should get back together, Steph. We’re a good team, even I’ll acknowledge that. You look good on my arm when I have to go to all those stuffy charity dinners and medical conferences. I wish you’d get your boobs done again,” he added, “but they’re still pretty perky for a woman who’s had a child.”

“Thanks.”

He lifted his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I know that didn’t come out right. Look, if you keep on with this divorce, it’ll hurt, and until I peeked through that window I couldn’t think of what you’d gain from divorcing me.” He pointed at the house. “Is she the reason we’re over? Did you leave me for her?”

“No, Paula is an old friend. We’ve gotten close. I didn’t intend for it to happen but it did. I left you because I don’t love you and you don’t love me.”

Recognition crossed his face. “That’s Paula? Francine’s daughter? How interesting.” He clasped his hands behind his back and attempted humility. “Well, you’ll do whatever you want but this new lifestyle certainly doesn’t help your position—not with the courts or your son.”

Her mouth went dry as his master plan became clear. That kiss in the kitchen could be quite costly.

“Arizona courts don’t look too kindly on lesbian romances, particularly if it’s the cause of the problem.” He spoke like an attorney making a case before the judge.

“But that’s not true. My divorce doesn’t have anything to do with Paula and there aren’t any other romances as you put it.”

He shrugged. “You say that but I don’t know if you’re telling the truth,” he said, an innocent look on his face. “You say that but Paula was your best friend during your youth. Perhaps the two of you experimented a little, huh? And I seem to remember a certain tennis pro who became your best buddy. What was her name? I wonder how hard it would be to find her and make her testify in open court.” His eyes turned to ice. “Don’t mess with me, Steph. You’ll lose. Come home. Do it for Eric. It’ll be the only way he’ll forgive you. Call me when you’ve changed your mind.”

He walked back to the Hummer and drove away.

When he was out of sight, she collapsed to the ground. As a child she’d sometimes run behind the granite rock at night and gaze up at the sky. She’d imagine how many other people were craning their necks in awe of the bright stars or full moon at that exact same moment. She pictured people in San Diego lying on the beach or a family at a campsite in Colorado sitting by the fire while the father or mother pointed out the Little Dipper or the W of Cassiopeia. Whenever she needed to feel connected to the universe or she wanted to stave off the terrible loneliness that came from being an only child, she gazed at the heavens above.

The grass swished and crunched as someone approached.

“He didn’t stab you in the back with a knife, did he?” Paula asked sarcastically. When she added a nervous chuckle, Steph knew she was genuinely concerned.

She pulled her up and they headed back to the house. “No, he’s already done that,” she said, answering her question. “He came to make threats and try to rattle me.”

“Did he succeed?”

She nodded slightly. Her heart was pounding and she couldn’t stop shaking. She put her hands in her pockets so Paula couldn’t touch her and feel her vulnerability. What if he’s not kidding? What if he can find the tennis pro?

“I’m definitely concerned that he saw us kissing,” she said, carefully choosing her words. “That could hurt my standing with the court.”

Paula scowled. “Why would the courts care?”

She took a breath, trying to be patient. “Paula, you’ve lived your entire life in the Pacific Northwest, a place that openly accepts gay people. I live in Arizona. It’s a little different there.” She’d raised her voice unintentionally and taken a sharp tone. “I’m sorry,” she added, climbing up the porch steps. “I just need some time to think.”

“Do you still want to take a drive with me today?” Paula asked before she could slip inside. “I thought we could go up to Tillamook with the ashes and maybe spend the night. It’d be nice to get out of here.”

Her heart was splitting in half. She wanted to spend every minute with Paula but she pictured them pulling up to a diner for lunch just as Lawrence and Eric came out.

“I don’t think so. Not today. I know I promised I’d go with you but I’m not feeling well.”

Paula looked away, saying nothing. Steph knew that she wasn’t a good liar and Paula wanted to call her on it like when they were kids. But Paula always swallowed her tales since they usually involved an embarrassing moment with Debbie. She recognized that sometimes Steph just needed to save face.

Date: 2015-12-18; view: 512