Chapter Twenty-Three 12 page

She stared into his face, probing his honesty. Ten years before, when she’d suspected he was already cheating, she’d asked him to go to a counselor but he’d blasted psychology and said it was ridiculous. If he was truly willing to work on their marriage, it was a huge leap. He could see her lip trembling, a symbol of her shaky resolve, and as he had done so many times during their marriage when she was upset—usually with him—he took his finger and with the gentle touch of a surgeon, traced her lips slowly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against her ear.

He leaned toward her, waiting for permission. She raised her eyes and the decision was made. Their lips met and in a matter of seconds his tender kiss turned fierce and he consumed her. Her eyes closed, Heceta’s bright beacon imprinted on her mind. Lawrence’s tongue pushed into her mouth, demanding that she acquiesce to him forever. The beacon turned its three-hundred-sixty-degrees—around and around—while his hands brushed against her breasts and lingered on her hips. The light dimmed. Lawrence pressed against her and in the moment she thought to pull away and remind him that they were in a public place, the beacon extinguished and darkness surrounded her. Astonished, she broke free. He was laughing, obviously pleased with himself.

“Well, I’d say we still have some chemistry.” He looked like a little boy, his head drooping with a silly grin on his face. He put his hands in his pockets. “Please, Steph? Can we try? If it doesn’t work, I promise I won’t stand in your way. I’ll even help you pack and I’ll sign whatever divorce papers you shove under my nose.” She said nothing. She only stared into his amazing green eyes, glowing in the late day’s sun.

She’d brought very little so it took only a few minutes to repack her things. Lawrence handed her clothes from the bureau, determined to expedite the process.

“Is this yours?” he asked, holding up a gold jewelry box.

She nodded, hiding her disappointment that he didn’t recognize her mother’s special trinket box that had sat on her dresser throughout their marriage.

She froze when someone knocked on the door. Lawrence opened it and a smug smile covered his face as he motioned for Paula to come inside. He’d won and was gloating.

When their eyes met, Steph realized Paula had been crying and she wondered how much of the little show Paula had seen on the lighthouse trail. Had she seen him groping her? Kissing her? She was certain he’d think it was nothing more than payback for the other morning. If he was subjected to watching then she should be too.

“Will you give us a moment, please, Lawrence?”

“Of course. I’ll take these out to the car.”

He picked up her packed suitcases and faced her, standing between her and Paula. When he leaned forward she almost backed away, but she held her ground. She’d made her choice. His kiss lingered on her lips far too long. When he stepped away she was intensely aware of Paula’s stare and the tears in her eyes. Steph stood perfectly still until he left the room, more ashamed and sad than she’d ever been in her life.

Paula’s gaze flitted around the room and she tugged nervously at her shirt collar, clearly embarrassed. Eventually she looked at her and offered a little smile.

“I guess this is goodbye again,” Paula said.

Steph almost fell to the floor. She put her hand on the dresser and took a deep breath.

“Are you all right?” Paula asked, coming to her, resting her hand on her shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

They stood there, suspended in the moment, listening to the roaring wind outside. The creak of the weather vane provided an awkward soprano line to the melody rushing between the tree limbs.

“He said he’d go into counseling,” she offered. “He wants to make it right.”

Paula stared at her blankly, showing no emotion, her lips a straight, unreadable line. Steph was becoming more uncomfortable by the minute, half of her fearing that she was making the wrong decision and the other half terrified of facing the dark future, the one where Heceta’s beacon had extinguished.

Steph removed Paula’s arm from her shoulder and a surge of emotion poured out of her when Paula stared at her, turned and headed for the door. If it was at all possible, Steph was certain Paula had kidnapped her passion, lust and desire.

Paula’s beautiful chestnut hair disappeared around the corner and Steph dropped to the bed. The wind pitched to a new octave, higher and more forceful. An odd sound overhead, like wood ripping, jolted her eyes to the ceiling, and in the time it took to gaze upward, she pictured the roof flying off the B and B. But nothing was different.

A second later an enormous crash made her jump. She ran out the back door and nearly ran into Caroline who was standing on the small porch staring at the cause—the old weather vane protruded from the Hummer’s windshield. Half of it was buried deep inside the front seat but the north and west spokes waved at them from the hood of the car.

“Too bad it didn’t just hit the top,” Caroline said acidly. “It would’ve bounced off.”

Steph knew how she felt about gas guzzlers and vanity vehicles. Her attitude was shared by most Oregonians who pioneered the green movement. Lawrence, though, was from Arizona, the state with more golf courses than recycling bins.

Where was he? She raced down the steps as he and Rick crossed in front of the car, examining the damage. Neither of them seemed overwrought by the entire incident, only amused.

He looked at her and gestured to the destroyed Hummer. “I guess the great green god is trying to tell me something,” he said. “We’ll need to take your car.”

He and Rick resumed their small talk while he transferred her suitcases from the Hummer to her BMW.

Caroline turned toward her, her face full of concern. “You’re sure about this?”

“Not at all.” She embraced her. “Thank you so much. Your friendship is priceless and I promise to keep in touch.”

“You’d better.” She glanced toward the window of her little room. “I think I’ll leave that place alone for a while. Just in case.” Steph nodded, grateful. “Are you going to see Debbie before you leave?”

She snorted and shook her head. “Are you kidding? I’ll just call her when I get home. It’s easier to deal with her scenes from a few thousand miles away.”

Lawrence was already in the car, the engine running. He couldn’t wait to get her away from Oregon and Paula.

She offered a slight wave to Caroline and Rick as they backed out and started down the drive. In the side mirror she glanced at Heceta, receding in the distance, and she felt her heart sink. As Lawrence made another turn, Heceta disappeared out of view and was replaced by the picturesque front of the B and B. Movement caught her eye. The upstairs drapes parted, revealing a figure in a white dress. She whirled around to stare through the back window, but as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone.

Lawrence touched her shoulder. “You okay, honey?”

She closed her eyes momentarily, wondering if the last vision she’d had of the Heceta Head Lighthouse was that of a ghost.

Chapter Twenty-Two

From the windows of Victoria’s Room, Paula had watched the entire encounter between Lawrence and Steph on the trail. As someone who was a smooth talker, she recognized the quality in others and judging from the exchange between the couple, she knew Lawrence’s persuasive tactics were exceptional, and from her vantage point his behavior was entirely transparent. His gestures and body language fluctuated from wounded puppy to macho caveman. She imagined that the topic of conversation was Eric, the greatest weapon in his arsenal. She knew Eric would be her undoing. She couldn’t compete with him. Steph wouldn’t be happy anywhere if she believed her son hated her.

Paula’s stomach knotted when Lawrence kissed her, grabbed her—and won. She turned away from the window and fell onto the bed. It was over and she would leave. A part of her was furious with Steph for not asserting herself but in another second she thought of Eric. Yes, he was nearly an adult, but she remembered how young seventeen really was.

The scene in Steph’s room had been half-hearted. She knew she’d lost and so did Lawrence. The only one who didn’t seem to recognize there’d been a contest was the prize herself. She willingly let her husband kiss her in front of her lover and she made no apologies, no declarations of love. She had done nothing to ease Paula’s pain.

The weather vane falling into the Hummer had been fabulous comic relief and she laughed out loud. She wondered for a split second if Lawrence was inside. She’d actually frowned when she realized he was still alive and then shook her head in shame. She stood by the side window and watched the car pull away.

A noise from above caught her attention. Someone was in the attic but she couldn’t imagine who. Caroline and Rick were outside with Lawrence and Steph. Who would be in the attic without them? The guests were off sightseeing, strolling on the beach or gazing at Heceta.

She glanced up as the floor above her creaked. Rue. She didn’t want to think about it and she didn’t care. If I’m lucky she’ll grab something really heavy and send it through the ceiling. It can kill me quick. Let the charities get all of my mother’s money. She flopped down on the bed and closed her eyes, falling into a deep sleep.

“Paula?” a voice asked, accompanied by a knock.

She sat up. It was nighttime and the windows were dark. “How long have I been out?”

Caroline smiled sympathetically. “It’s about eight.”

About six hours. “Crap.” She wiped her eyes and stretched her arms. She’d slept in an uncomfortable position and her body wasn’t thrilled about it.

“I thought it would be best to let you rest. You seemed so tired and I know you’ve had a hell of a week.”

Paula glanced at her, her meaning clear. “Thanks.”

“Uh, well, two things. First, if you want something to eat, I left some pot roast for you in the fridge and Ted Ruth is downstairs. He’d like to talk to you if you’re available. He says you missed an appointment with him this afternoon.”

She nodded. The scene with Steph had consumed her.

“Do you want me to tell him you’ll call him tomorrow?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” she murmured. “I need to get back.”

“Of course,” Caroline said softly. “Why don’t I just tell him you’ll call?”

She waved a hand in the negative. She wanted to leave Eugene without any loose ends.

She went downstairs and found him gazing at Heceta through the window. “Hello, Ted.”

He turned and nodded. “Hello, Paula. Have you made a decision?”

Somehow it seemed harder to say the words out loud. There was such finality in her decision and she could see her mother nodding from heaven—victorious. She’d managed to stave off her daughter’s sick lesbian tendencies. Not really. I can have as many one-night stands and meaningless affairs as I want. That’ll be more fun. Mom’s ashes can spin in her little urn while she watches.

“I’ll take the inheritance,” she said swiftly. “What do I need to sign?”

He blinked, clearly stunned. “I’ll admit I’m surprised. You seemed so sure of your decision the other day when you were in my office with Stephanie.”

She remained expressionless, unwilling to discuss the details. She wanted to sign, ask him to leave and head home in the morning—back to her great job, a new salary and endless opportunities with fabulous women like Drea. He motioned to the dining room table and they settled into the antique chairs. He removed the codicil from his briefcase and presented it to her. She reread the short paragraph that stated she agreed to refrain from long-term relationships as determined by Mr. Theodore Ruth, Esquire or she’d forfeit everything. Her eyes drifted to his kind face.

“Before I sign I’d like to know what you really think of this. You’ve said that you tried to dissuade my mother from writing it but you’re determined to enforce it. How can that be?”

Ted cleared his throat and stared at the paper. “There are unpleasant tasks in every profession. This was one of them. And honestly, I’m not sure if I agreed because of my professionalism or my need to please your mother.”

When he looked up, his eyes were full of pain.

Paula smiled wryly to break the tension. “So, what if I meet Miss Right? Any chance you’ll look the other way?”

Ted’s tight smile conveyed discomfort. “I couldn’t do that, Paula. I’d be ignoring the wishes of my client, regardless of what I think of her choices,” he said softly.

She took the pen he offered and quickly signed the document. “I’ll be leaving for Seattle tomorrow. So you’ll need to fax me any other papers I need to sign.”

“I thought you weren’t leaving until Friday.”

Paula shook her head. “Everything’s packed. I need to get back.” She leaned back in the chair. “I do have a question for you, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

“Did you know about my mother and John South?”

He seemed to shrink in his chair, hanging his head. She’d definitely caught him off-guard. He wiped his hand across his face and looked away. “How did you find out?”

“She kept everything in a safe. I had it opened.”

He shook his head and exhaled. “Why am I not surprised? She couldn’t let it go, not even when she should have.”

“Why do you say that?”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “I don’t know how much I should tell you.”

She snorted. “You can tell me everything, Ted. There’s nothing you could say at this point that would surprise me. Was my mother a streetwalker? Did she pole dance on Saturday nights?” He didn’t laugh at her jokes and she looked down guiltily. “I’m sorry. I know you cared about her.”

“Can we take a walk?”

She followed him outside. The beacon showered the trail with just enough light to illuminate the path but Paula was grateful that the severity of her expression and the depth of her pain remained hidden in the overwhelming darkness. The wind had died and she thought rain might soon follow.

“Your mother and I began our affair after your father’s death but by then her heart belonged to John. She’d been having an affair with him for several years but neither of them had any intention of leaving their respective spouses. I think that was largely because of you and Stephanie.”

“I don’t understand. Why did that matter?”

“The two of you were best friends. Your parents worried that it would destroy your friendship and they couldn’t stomach that. You were children, innocent victims to their passions. It wasn’t right to involve you.”

“I suppose.” She knew he was right. It would’ve devastated them and fingers of blame would’ve pointed in all directions.

“So they continued on with their little charade. Your father was absent so much that he never suspected anything when he was home.”

A thought occurred to her. “Do you think Mom was grateful he died?”

“Absolutely not,” he insisted. “Your father’s death devastated Francine. She loved him and if he’d been around more often I don’t think she ever would’ve given John a second look. Your father was a handsome, dashing man but absence didn’t make the heart grow fonder.”

“Did Debbie know?”

He frowned. “Debbie was a victim. She knew if she demanded a divorce it would crush Stephanie. It was easier to drink so she did.”

Paula shook her head. “How do you figure into this triangle?”

He chuckled. “There wasn’t a triangle. There was only John and Francine. I was no part of it. Debbie wasn’t either, really. John and Francine were a true love story and the rest of us were bystanders. I was naïve enough to think that your mother might choose me over him since I was actually single and she was a widower. I was a respectable attorney and in love with her.”

Paula stared at him. In the light of the beacon his goodness surrounded him. His mild nature, pleasant face and shrewd intellect made her question her mother’s sanity. “She should’ve picked you. You’re a catch.”

The compliment drew his sad face into a smile. “Thanks.” They reached the lighthouse and settled onto a bench underneath the beacon. “If it were only that simple,” he continued. “Your mother only had eyes for John. For a while she dated both of us but eventually she told me to step back.”

“Weren’t you angry? Did you think about going to Debbie?”

He held out his hands. “And say what? She already knew. There was nothing I could do except bow out. Making a scene would’ve only hurt you and Stephanie. Your mother belonged with John. I really believe that now. Their love was timeless.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please.”

“I’m serious. Once I got past the hurt and pain of losing her I saw the truth. Do you know that she visited his grave every day after his death? She brought him flowers once a week and would sit in front of his tombstone, telling him about everything that was happening in her life. It was the kind of romance that movies are made about.”

“And Stephanie never suspected.”

He looked up, panicked. “Are you going to tell her?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think any good could come from it. Besides I’m leaving tomorrow. I can’t see devastating her and then walking away.” She hung her head and added, “I’ve already done that to her once.”

He glanced at her. “So I guess things with Stephanie didn’t work out?”

“No. She’s gone back to her husband.” She swallowed hard and changed her tone. “I’ll probably come back in a month to clean out the rest of the house. I’ll need you to recommend a good real estate agent.”

It surprised her how quickly she shifted to business and how easy it seemed to talk about. She stood to go, assuming their business was concluded, but he remained on the bench.

“Is there anything else, Ted?”

“Has Stephanie left Eugene?”

She took a deep breath. “Tomorrow, I imagine.”

“Do you think there’s any hope for the two of you?”

Paula chuckled. “Doubtful.”

“Doubtful doesn’t mean hopeless,” he said. “Sit, please.” She joined him again, realizing that the glorious beacon was like a spotlight and Ted could plainly see her anguish.

“Paula, your mother knew she was dying.”

“What do you mean? I thought she had an unexpected heart attack.”

Ted nodded. “It was unexpected in terms of the exact time, but your mother had seen a cardiologist a few months before. She had severe issues with artery clotting and they told her she only had a little while left. She took comfort in the fact that she would go quickly. She came to see me and told me that she’d made a few more decisions.”

Paula sighed. “Fabulous. Another codicil?”

“Not really a codicil, but it was a letter clarifying her wishes.” He pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket which she took but didn’t open. “She also said that she wasn’t going to tell you. She’d made arrangements with Mrs. Gunn next door and it would be Mrs. Gunn who would contact you.”

Tears pooled in her eyes. “Why would she do that? Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

“She believed you would insist on coming home for the duration to care for her, to be present when it happened and to do everything in your power to delay it from coming.”

Paula nodded fiercely. “Damn right. That’s exactly what I would’ve done.”

“And she didn’t want that.” He offered a gentle smile. “She was ready, Paula. She’d made her peace. She didn’t want to disrupt your life for something you couldn’t control or change. She knew that despite the differences the two of you had, you were an amazingly loyal person who loved her. She felt that in her heart.”

Tears streamed down her face and she took some deep breaths. “Yes,” she said finally.

He handed her his handkerchief and patted her knee. “Knowing was enough for her. It completed her, if you will. She didn’t need you to prove your love by leaving your job and moving back. Your mother, for all of her faults, loved you until the very end and she believed you were a person capable of great love.” He pointed at the envelope. “You need to open that.”

She fumbled with the seal and removed a single sheet of her mother’s stationery. She almost cried again when she saw her mother’s elegant old-school handwriting. With the glow of Heceta behind her, it was easy to read in the darkness.

Dear Paula,

I imagine you cannot fully describe your feelings for me at this moment—but I can. Betrayal, anger, sadness, bewilderment and shock are just a few of the emotions I know you’ve experienced since my death. You see, I’ve had much more time to imagine my passing and its effect on you. It’s one of the unavoidable activities that engage the mind of the elderly each and every day. Now that my life is ending there is much time for reflection since all I’m doing now is waiting for the moment when I see your father and John again.

You’ll be surprised to know that I’m not evaluating my life or judging my choices. What would be the point? Everything is in the past and I cannot change it. All I can think about is how your life will be affected and the pain or joy my existence will bring to you.

I will admit that I do not understand your love of other women. I did not raise you this way. I cannot help but think that somehow I caused this. After I learned of your lifestyle, I spent so many mornings staring out the kitchen window while I drank my coffee, thinking about what I could have done to make you normal. I do regret that I was unable and unwilling to discuss this with you but I could not. Perhaps it was too embarrassing and potentially painful.

I am certain that you do not approve of many of my choices as well, including the codicil in my will. I imagine it hurts you to be judged so harshly by me, and since I have learned of my imminent death, I have questioned my decision and found a sense of peace in the middle ground.

Amid all of those mornings at the kitchen table I thought as much of Stephanie as I did of you and I started to wonder why. After much thought it occurred to me that you loved her, and when I replayed all the important moments of your youth, Stephanie was always there. She loved you too, even if she didn’t know it.

She may have told you that she initially came to me when she got pregnant and I urged her to keep the baby. At the time I didn’t know what she meant to you or you to her, but the child was all that mattered. I still believe that. However, she promised me that one day she would return as your friend. The fact that you are reading this letter means that this has happened. Stephanie has returned to your life.

While I do not condone your lifestyle, I love Stephanie almost as much as you do. She brings out the very best in you, darling. She is a beacon of light for you, and if I had been paying attention, I would not have needed an angry phone call from your insane ex-girlfriend to convince me. (What could you have ever seen in her? She didn’t seem to be anything like Stephanie.)

I’m rambling now. I have reread what I have written and I have yet to state the point. Such is the price for growing old. Here is my final decision: if you choose to spend your life with Stephanie, you may have the entire inheritance—every penny. She belongs with you. If you find someone else, the codicil stands.

I understand how hypocritical I sound and I don’t care. I don’t expect you to understand how I could love two different men just as I don’t understand your lifestyle. I’m old, outdated and dying. I can decide whatever I wish. I don’t know anyone else you may choose to love but I know Stephanie. While I don’t approve of your lesbianism, I do approve of Stephanie. She is to you what John was to me. Be with her, honey. Love her as she loves you.

All my love,

Mom

After reading the letter twice, she looked up at Ted, mouth agape. “She’s nuts.”

“She’s certainly complicated.”

She looked down at the pages again. She belongs with you. “Why did you show me this? Steph’s going back to her husband.”

A smile crossed his lips. “Incentive.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Steph’s fingers trailed over the luxurious soft cotton terry cloth robe that covered her flesh. She wandered out to the balcony of the Eugene Hilton and stared westward toward Heceta. Only a trace of the afternoon’s severe wind remained and it cooled her skin and wet hair. She sipped the scotch and thoughts of her father surfaced.

He’d cheated on Debbie and she’d known but she’d stayed with him anyway. She knew who the woman was and she still stayed. An idea desperately tried to ignite, like two pieces of flint that just wouldn’t catch. Steph knew she was missing an important detail but she couldn’t see it.

She leaned over the balcony and stared into west Eugene. Only Lawrence could secure a suite at one of the nicest hotels on a big football weekend, but he almost always got his way.

“He certainly does,” she muttered into the highball glass.

He’d talked nonstop from Heceta to the hotel, catching her up on all of the hospital gossip and planning a trip to Belize—not Bermuda. He made a quick stop at a drive-through liquor store, complaining that the second-rate hotels in Eugene didn’t have a decent minibar. When he requested a bottle of Glenlivet for her, the rest of the evening became clear. She knew his expectations and after everything that had happened he knew what she’d need to get through it.

She drained the glass and stumbled back inside to search for the bottle and change the radio to an upbeat station. Once she’d poured her fifth drink of the evening, she returned to the balcony with the bottle and propped her legs up on the table. The robe slid open and she was grateful Eric was out with Lawrence, enjoying a steak somewhere.

When they’d arrived back at the hotel, Eric was holed up in his room, the door locked and music blaring. Steph imagined Lawrence had given him specific instructions to stay away. Lawrence poured her a double, which she downed quickly while he prepared the bed. She guzzled another one and was quite tipsy when he finally came for her. Her mind went elsewhere, to the beacon at Heceta, but when she tried to imagine the huge lens washing across the land and sea, all she could see was the light dimming and flickering until it finally went out.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it more when we get back to our regular life,” he said when it was over, kissing her on the cheek before he disappeared into the bathroom. She lay in the bed, listening to the mood music he’d selected, a classical guitar.

When he reappeared, she quickly took his place and locked the bathroom door. She used only the hot water, scorching her body, ridding herself of him. When she finally stepped out, angry red blotches covered her back and torso from the powerful spray of the showerhead. She opened the bathroom door slightly but Lawrence had left, probably with Eric. A rushed note confirmed that they’d gone out for a “boy’s night dinner” and would be back in a few hours.

She leaned back in the balcony chair, allowing the robe to slide open indecently, the cool breeze a welcome kiss to her overheated skin. She tried to look ahead to what awaited her back in Phoenix.

After a three-month absence, she had undoubtedly been replaced by others for her committee chairmanships. Her exceptional doubles ranking at the tennis club was gone and she was certain that there would be a lengthy period of awkwardness between her and the other members of their social circle, as they continued to whisper about what a horrible wife she’d been to Lawrence and how ungrateful she was, despite her marvelous life and beautiful home. It would be annoying for a long time but then all would be forgotten, probably by the time the Christmas parties began. Then they would all impress themselves with their ability to forgive her and welcome her back into the group. Leslie, her doubles partner and true friend, would keep her sane. She knew Lawrence and hated him.

She finished her drink and poured another. She lost track of time and didn’t care. What else could she do? The answer was simple—nothing. Pink’s “So What?” blasted from the speakers and she sang along as she trashed her ex-husband. Anyone coming out on a neighboring balcony was in for quite a show—a drunken woman flashing everyone with her open robe and belting out a song.

She was so into the performance that she didn’t notice Lawrence step onto the patio until the song ended and he applauded wildly. Eric leaned against the wall, frowning. She quickly set the glass down and covered up, wondering how much of her body she’d exposed to her son.

Lawrence’s face held that same sexual expectation that he’d worn earlier when they’d arrived from Heceta. His hands caressed the back of her neck and he kissed the top of her head.

“You’re very talented,” he said. “Just like your mother.”

She shot him a look. “What?”

He noticed the change in her voice. “I’m just saying that you look like Debbie, singing and drinking.”

Date: 2015-12-18; view: 509