Backcast (28 page)

10

Heal Thyself

Shawn had a plan. And it wasn't a plan she was ready to share with Kate—at least not until she had her ducks in a row.

That's what today was about—getting her ducks in a row.

Kate's revelation that Linda had made her a job offer was a game changer. Shawn understood that. What wasn't clear to her was how well Kate understood it. Shawn knew Kate well enough to realize that trying to force any kind of decision would be a mistake. So the best she could do was go ahead with her own plans, and hope they might eventually intersect with whatever path Kate finally decided to follow.

The house was incredible. A Craftsman. It sat on three acres of land with two hundred feet of lake frontage. Everything about it was perfect—proximity to town, exquisite Green Mountain views, the warmth and simple beauty of the architecture, a big fenced yard for the dogs. This place had it all.

And it was here. Vermont.

She looked out across the lake. The ridges on the opposite side were clearer today. She could even make out the slow revolutions of the windmills that sat atop Georgia Mountain. Doug Archer was still pissed about how they spoiled the landscape whenever they drifted into view from the islands. “Calvary,” he called it. Shawn laughed at his description, but it really was pretty apt. They did look like crosses. The only problem with his analogy was the math.

“What's the fourth one for?” she asked him.

“Me,” he opined.

That seemed to work, too. Doug was a good man with a big heart, but he worried about things. He had what Ursula Le Guin called “French diseases of the soul.”

Just like her.

Shawn never expected to fall in love with Vermont. That part of this trip had been a surprise. A revelation. Being here reminded her of all the happiest parts of her childhood. Being here reminded her that lives, like the months in a year, made more sense when they were measured in seasons. Living in a place where summers felt endless and winters never amounted to more than annoyances left her feeling incomplete. She remembered once reading a story about this phenomenon in a grad school writing class. It was something about a woman who read Wallace Stevens—and how she died a slow death from living in a place where the climate never changed.

Lately, her life had become a badly constructed sentence—a dangling participle that modified an unintended subject:
work.
Her work had overspread everything like the ubiquitous kudzu vines that filled up the hot, summer landscapes of North Carolina. And it had happened so gradually that she hadn't even noticed its creeping progress. She was being strangled by work. Death by kudzu was like death by a thousand cuts. Slow. Interminable. But steady. Certain.

It was time to change that.

She knew the physical part of the transition would be simple. Her Charlotte house was in the Dilworth neighborhood—an area proclaimed to be “highly desirable” by all the real estate magnates. She'd been approached more than a dozen times about selling it. And the truth was that she had no real ties to the area. She'd landed in Charlotte mostly by accident. It was the first place she got a job after grad school in Chapel Hill. Since then? Once she published her first book,
Bottle Rocket
, things had started happening so quickly that she never took the time to think about what came next.

Then she met Kate, and everything changed. Now thinking about what came next was practically an obsession.

She needed to change that, too.

Buying this house was her first step. She'd make the move, and then Kate could decide whether or not she wanted to join her. If Kate chose to keep her job in New York, then at least Shawn would be closer to her than she now was in North Carolina. And maybe she could even keep Patrick, so he wouldn't be consigned to life in a third-floor walkup apartment.

But the most important thing was that Shawn would be living her life intentionally. Not waiting around for something that might never happen.

She looked down at all the paperwork in her lap.

Yeah
. She was going to do this.

“You look lost in thought.”

It was Linda Evans. Shawn hadn't noticed her approach.

“Hey. What are you up to?”

“Not much.” Linda smiled down at her. “Thought I'd avoid work a bit longer by taking a stroll before lunch.”

“I thought you'd already finished your piece?”

“I have. That's not the work I was referring to.”

“Oh.
Lily
stuff?”

Linda nodded.

Shawn indicated a vacant chair that sat several feet away from her spot on the lawn. “Why don't you join me?”

“Sure I won't be disturbing you?”

“Of course not.”

“Okay.” Linda held out her sweaty glass. “Hold this for me while I pull that thing closer?”

“Sure.” Shawn took the glass from her. It contained some kind of straw-colored liquid and a few melting ice cubes. She had no idea what it was. Linda's morning beverage concoctions were becoming legendary.

“What are you drinking?”

Linda laughed. “Tonic and bitters.”

“Really?” Shawn sniffed it. “Is that any good?”

“It's a digestive. Helps settle a queasy spirit.”

“There's a drink for that?” Shawn handed the glass back to her. “Who knew?”

“Stick with me kid.” Linda settled herself in the big, white chair. “I can teach you things.”

“I don't doubt it.”

They sat quietly and studied each other. Shawn understood that they were having a nonverbal conversation—and the topic was Kate.

Linda finally broke the silence. “So, how are things?”

“You tell me. You know her as well as I do.”

Linda smiled. “I wouldn't go that far.”

Shawn sighed. “I don't know, Linda. I love her, but figuring out what's going on inside that head of hers is like trying to read tea leaves.”

“I can imagine.”

“How did you manage it?”

“I guess I never tried to figure her out.” Linda shrugged. “I just gave her space to get to wherever she'd eventually end up. It's not a very dramatic approach, but it saved a lot of rubber.”

“Yeah. My tires are about worn to the rims.”

“Maybe that means it's time to park the car.”

“That's exactly what I'm thinking.” Shawn held up the listing details for the house. “I'm moving.”

“Moving?” Linda took the papers from her. “Moving where?”

“Here.”

“Okaaayyy.” Linda was scanning the information. “This is gorgeous.” She looked up at Shawn. “But don't you think it's a tad dramatic?”

“I'm not doing it for dramatic effect. I'm doing it for me.”

“Fair enough. Still. It seems—sudden.”

“I suppose it is. But I love it up here. And I want to make a change.”

Linda nodded. “Change can be good. But it also can be a lot easier if you approach it in smaller steps.”

“I'm not looking for easier.”

Linda didn't reply. Shawn felt bad about her brusque response.

“I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound so arrogant. I just know myself. It's going to take something—
dramatic
—for me to shock my system into getting off this gerbil wheel and moving forward with my life.”

Linda handed the papers back to her. “Without Kate?”

“I hope not.”

“I hope not, too. You're good together.”

“I think so.”

Shawn wanted to ask Linda if Kate had made a decision about the job at
Gilded Lily
. But she knew she couldn't. It wasn't right. Kate would tell her when she was ready.

“She hasn't made up her mind yet.”

Shawn looked at Linda in surprise.

“I could tell you wanted to ask but weren't going to.”

“I hate being so pathetic.”

“You're not pathetic.” Linda took a sip of her drink.

“Is it working?”

Linda lowered the glass. “Is what working?”

“Your drink. Is your spirit less queasy?”

Linda laughed. “Not yet. But it's getting there.”

“Maybe I should give it a try?”

“No.” Linda patted her on the forearm. “Stick with your plan. Buy your house. Different kinds of problems take different kinds of tonic. I have a feeling you may have just found yours.”

“Are you going to tell me why you disappeared?”

Darien and V. Jay-Jay were walking along the cliffs that rose above the water on the north side of the property.

“I didn't disappear. I needed time to think.”

“So you left without saying anything?” Darien waved a hand. “I call that disappearing.”

“If you're going to use epic terminology like this, there's no point in trying to have a conversation.”

“Okay. What would you call it?”

“What would I call what?”

“Come on, Vee.” Darien was trying hard to muzzle her frustration, but it was getting harder to rein in. “I woke up and you were gone. No note. No nothing. What was I supposed to think?”

“Maybe you were supposed to think that I was confused, and I needed time to think?”

“Well, you sure didn't seem ‘confused' when we were together.”

V. Jay-Jay didn't reply right away.

“Well?” Darien prodded her.

“You're right. I wasn't confused. Not about that part.”

“Thank god. A breakthrough.”

V. Jay-Jay stopped and faced her. “I won't deny that our physical intimacy functioned fairly seamlessly.”

Darien rolled her eyes. “Physical intimacy?”

V. Jay-Jay nodded.

“Why the hell do you sound like you're writing an article for the AMA?”

“Look. This isn't easy for me.”

“Forgive me if I have trouble understanding how
that's
possible. You're the author of four of the most popular—and I might add,
erotic
—sex romps in our entire genre. Yet when you and I spend the night together, you primly brush it off as ‘fairly seamless' physical intimacy.”

“I'm not brushing anything off.”

“No?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, what the hell is the problem, then?”

V. Jay-Jay shook her head. “Let's go down to the beach and find a place to sit.”

“Why? What's wrong with where we are?”

“Look. I don't particularly want to have this conversation standing on the edge of a precipice.”

Darien laughed. “Too metaphorical for you?”

“You might say that.”

“Are you afraid I might push you off?”

“Too late for that one. It already happened.”

Darien felt herself begin to relax a little bit. She gestured toward a shady path that wound its way down to the water. “After you.”

They picked their way down to the rocky beach and found a large, flat rock that could accommodate them both. This one was
safely inland, so there'd be no possibility of falling into the water. Darien was sorry about that. She wouldn't have minded another waterlogged encounter. Not even a little bit.

Once they were settled, V. Jay-Jay pointed out a dotted line of boats moving across the water.

“I can't get over how much traffic there is out there today.”

Darien followed her gaze. “It must be the tournament. It starts tomorrow. I suppose everyone is out scouting their spots.”

“So I guess Quinn's big day is finally at hand?”

Darien nodded.

“It's hard to believe our time here is winding down. Two weeks seemed like an eternity to me when I first got here.”

“Me, too. I don't normally stay in one place this long.”

“I gathered that.”

Darien picked up a smooth, flat stone and threw it at a low angle. It skipped across the surface of the water six or eight times before disappearing from sight.

“You're pretty good at that.” V. Jay-Jay sounded impressed.

“I'm pretty good at a lot of things.”

“So I noticed.”

They smiled at each other.

“Tell me why you left my room?” Darien asked the question slowly. Quietly. She wanted Vee to know she was serious, and that she cared about her answer.

“I don't know. I woke up, and . . .”

“And?”

V. Jay-Jay shook her head.

“You can tell me.”

V. Jay-Jay met her eyes. “That's just it. I
can't
tell you. I can't tell you because I don't know myself.”

“You mean you don't know why you left?”

“No. I mean I don't
know
myself. I don't recognize who I am right now. And that scares the hell out of me.”

Darien stared out across the water. As much as she wanted to argue the point with Vee, she knew she couldn't. Not with any kind of conviction. The truth was, she pretty much felt the same way.

“I'm sorry.”

“Sorry?” Vee looked confused. “What about?”