Kate Jacobs (29 page)

"Gran, you've gone soft," Georgia teased.
"Maybe so," Gran conceded, biting into a hard square. "But it's
better to loosen up as you go or you risk turning brittle."

twenty-one

Dinner was finished and cleared away, and
Georgia and
Gran were whispering in the kitchen, drying the last of the dishes. The two of
them had spent many hours alone together since the Big Talk at breakfast over a
week ago, and Georgia seemed noticeably different. She laughed more often.
Listened for fifteen, even twenty minutes at a time, as Cat laid out her latest
ambitions, stifling any unkind comments even as her old friend insisted she
would make a great life coach: "You know, I could really help women get
their lives on track!"
"And so you could," Georgia replied with gravity, doing her best
Granny imitation.
The trip had been the perfect vacation, she realized. Sure, she checked in
almost daily with
Peri
, knew that Anita had—as predicted—taken
an early train and gone right back to work at the store. The club, they'd told
her, was still going strong on their project, though the summer weather had
resulted in uneven attendance. It was a fantastic June in the city, they said.
And it was a glorious month in the Scottish countryside as well.

* * *

With Georgia and Gran talking at every turn,
Cat found herself spending several evenings alone with Dakota, chatting about
fashion and looking at magazines that she had purchased at the airport. At the
little girl's urging, Cat helped her experiment with the tubes and tubs in her
cosmetics bag, sweeping on a light blush and dusting on a little shadow
underneath her brows, trying on reds and pinks on her lips.
"That can't be Dakota?" Gran said every time Cat called for their
attention as Georgia's daughter strode in, looking so much like a young woman
and so little like a girl playing dress-up that Georgia felt shocked each
night. But she didn't criticize, could see how much Dakota enjoyed having Cat
all to herself, touching her expensive clothes and hearing about glamorous
parties and dinners. To Dakota, Cat was like a movie star. For Cat, Dakota's
admiration kept her inspired when she felt overwhelmed by all the changes
ahead. The coming divorce still didn't feel quite real, she'd admitted to
Georgia one night after Dakota's bedtime. There was nothing like a separation
to realize that maybe you did still have feelings for the guy, after all.
"I wouldn't know about that," Georgia replied frostily, still putting
up defenses even after her armistice with Cat.
"That's okay," said her friend, so relaxed she was letting the orange
tabby lie on her lap, pressed cream trousers and all. "I know you're
lying, Walker girl."
And the women simply sat together, in comfortable silence, petting the cat and
relearning how to enjoy each other's company.

* * *

The phone startled the women out of their quiet
repose; it was their second-to-last evening and they were spending it as they
had so many others, with Gran at her knitting, Cat at her planning, and Georgia
reading and dozing, all curled up in the armchair in the corner. Dakota,
exhausted from a day of weeding with her great-grandmother, had taken herself
off to sleep even though it was not yet nine P.M.
"I wonder who's ringing at this hour?" muttered Gran as she made her
way to the telephone—an older, black model, mounted on the kitchen wall,
receiver attached to the base by a cord. (Dakota had marveled at the sight of
it, suggested it ought to be donated to a technology museum.)
"Yes?" Gran had that peculiar habit, so common to the elderly, of
shouting into the phone. "Yes, she's here. Who is this? I see. And you're
where? Uh-huh. Indeed. Well, continue on the M60 until you see the monument in
the middle of town, and then keep straight on for another two miles down the
road. It's the farm with the whitewashed brick and the yellow trim. You'll
recognize the house because the rhubarb flowers in the front garden are looking
quite spry. Yes, yes, all right."
Cat felt shivers go up and down her spine, a mix of fear and excitement. He'd
found her. Adam had called the credit card company to find out exactly where
she'd used her plastic and had come to get her. With time and distance, he'd
finally come to see clearly just how much he needed Cat. And she'd make him do
his penance, of course, but maybe with the help of her therapist they could
find a way to come together, maybe he could even help her with her new career.
She walked over as if to take the phone and was surprised when Gran placed the
receiver back in its cradle on the wall.
"Was it Adam?"
"Adam? Oh, no, dear." Gran settled back into her chair. "No,
that was Dakota's father. James. He'll be along shortly."
Georgia was bolt awake, looking quickly to Cat for confirmation that she hadn't
misunderstood.
"Gran, I wasn't expecting, I don't know, James and I
aren't…together," Georgia said with emphasis. "Where is he? And why
did you tell him how to get here?"
"Because he's already nearby, at the petrol station. And I thought you
said he was seeing Dakota again? I thought you said you'd kissed him?"
"Yes, but it was stupid. I told you that part, too."
"Oh, but I thought…" Gran was becoming upset. "Now I've gone and
done the wrong thing. Well, I'll just send him packing. I won't let him in.
I'll tell him you're busy."
"So we're just going to pretend we're washing our hair?" Cat was
amused. "How very Harrisburg High."
She went to get herself a cold drink even as blinds were being pulled down in
the kitchen and the lounge around her; Gran was also turning down the lights
and whispering.
Cat sipped her Coke, watching the two Walker women dash through the compact
house.
"Hey, Georgia, didn't you just tell me James was no big deal?" She
shouted just to make a point. "Sure seems like you're going to a lot of
trouble to avoid the man. And by the way, your rental car is still outside.
Shall we hide it in the barn?"
Georgia stopped moving, paused, and then lunged toward the keys on the kitchen
counter. Cat put out an arm to stop her.
"I have a better idea." Her voice was quiet now. "Let's just put
on a little lipstick and quit acting like maniacs. So James is here. You can
deal. Besides, you're turning Granny into a hysteric."
The older woman was puffing now, having collected up all of her guests' coats
and boots from the front closet and dumped them onto her own bed, seeming to
think she needed to sweep the house clean of any trace of Georgia.
"Gran? Let's just forget it. We'll let him in, it's okay."
The ninety-year-old dabbed at her face with a tissue, nodded. Relieved. The two
younger women went off to the sewing room, emerging minutes later with Georgia
outfitted in dark indigo jeans and a body-hugging V-neck silk sweater in
celadon, her curls tamed back with a multicolored scarf tied as a headband. A
touch of mascara and a bit of shine on the lips gave her that perfectly
"natural" look.
"You're a picture," said Gran, restored to her seat in the lounge but
too keyed up to knit. Cat offered to put on the kettle as Georgia hovered
around, not wanting to wait by the front door but reluctant to be too far away,
too. They saw the headlights come up the drive, shining through the farmhouse
window. And then he was there.

* * *

"I was in London on business," said
James, then shifted his weight in his chair. They were sitting in the kitchen,
the place where all big talks took place in
Gran's
world. He cleared his throat.
"Actually, I went to London a few days after you left the city, trying to
work up the courage to come here. I stopped into the local V hotel on made-up
business just so I wouldn't end up unemployed." He laughed
self-consciously.
"I wanted to see you, Georgia. I had a great plan. I was going to come up
here and whisk you off to Sweetheart Abbey—"
"The medieval ruins. I know it; we did the
Solway
Coast with Dakota last week."
"Well then you know the story: Lady
Devorgilla
builds a monument to her beloved husband in twelve-hundred-and-something,
creating a final resting place for her and his embalmed heart she carried
around after his death."
"Rather gruesome. Dakota couldn't decide if it was cool or gross. And a
little, uh, over-the-top maybe? I mean, come on, James…Sweetheart Abbey?"
"Well, some plan it was. I flew up to the airport and rented a car and
promptly drove off in the wrong direction. I was halfway to North Berwick
before I realized I was heading east instead of south."
Georgia laughed. "I had some trouble driving around here, too."
The tall man stretched out his legs; the compact kitchen chairs made him seem
more substantial than ever.
"Just so you know it wasn't my plan to show up here late at night. But I
knew if I went to a hotel, I'd lose my nerve by morning."
"Your nerve to what? Harangue me at my grandmother's house?"
"Is that what I do? I bug you?" James sounded tired. Defeated.
"Well, maybe I do. I'm trying to, I don't know, do something. Reconnect. I
guess." He twisted a napkin to a point. It was unbelievable. How he could
walk into a room armed with blueprints and ideas and convince a team of
skeptical corporate types to spend multimillions on glass and steel. How he
felt so vulnerable in this spotless little kitchen, surrounded by knitted dish
towels and pictures of Dakota stuck to the fridge with magnets.
"Georgia," he said. "Georgia, Georgia, Georgia. Could we take a
walk?"
Why not? Her daughter was safe in bed, and Gran and Cat were conspicuously
eavesdropping in the other room. They could head down the lane to the road and
back; she'd tuck a flashlight into her pocket, though she suspected there was
enough moonlight to see their way. Nodding, she went to get her jacket from the
closet, then remembered it was on
Gran's
bed. She
rushed to grab it so James wouldn't wait too long at the front hall, wouldn't
find himself questioned by the other women.
"Don't worry, we'll definitely wait up," called out Cat as they
exited.
Zipping up against the cool night air, Georgia remarked that she was surprised
James hadn't commented on her old friend's presence.
"Nah, it's not shocking," he said. "You used to talk about her a
lot in the old days."
Georgia threw him a quizzical look.
"It's true. You talked about how she hurt you, but mostly you talked about
how you had a hard time getting to know people in New York. And how you missed
your friend Cathy."
"I did miss her. I do. But Cat is growing on me. Slowly."
James stopped walking and angled his body to face hers.
"Do you think you have room in your life for another old friend?"
"James, we've been through this. More than once. Why do you show up here
and go through it all again?" Georgia was blunt. "Is it an ego thing?
Am I the girl you want to keep around in case nothing else works out?"
"That's fair, but it's not the truth." James shook his head. "I
did everything back then out of fear we would work out."
"Huh?"
"It was so good with us back then. I was really happy. But I thought, oh,
different cultures, different colors, it will never last, so why even bother?
Eventually we'll split up, so just get it over with now."
"So you dumped me?"
"
Nooo
," said James, speaking carefully.
"I cheated on you so that you would get mad and dump me."
Georgia felt like throwing up. "Guess it worked then," she said,
walking away from him and back to the house.
"It's about being honest. For once. Look, I didn't know that's what I was
doing at the time," he called after her. "It took me a long time to
figure it out. But that's all I've been doing for years. Thinking about
you."
She slowed her steps, listening to his voice.
"I'm sorry. Really and truly sorry. To hurt you. To not be around with our
daughter." He strode after her, catching up quickly. "I made excuse
after excuse, about me being black and you being white and then about how you
never answered my letters and how I'd made too many mistakes to go back."
He glanced back toward the road, watching a car drive along, trying to keep
composed.
"But then, a few years ago, I was sitting in a sidewalk café in Paris and
there was this family walking down the street, a black woman and white man, and
these gorgeous kids, and they were all laughing and holding hands, and I began
to cry. Right then and there. In public."
James wasn't about to stop now. He had to let her know.
"I began stockpiling presents for Dakota in a closet, planning for some
day when I'd see her. I had
Barbies
, pink ponies,
paint-by-number books, Pokémon cards, Monopoly, soccer balls. Storybooks in
French, in English. I'd go into a children's boutique and buy clothes in every
size because I didn't know what would fit." James was practically choking
out his words. "My lifestyle, all that partying, it was kaput. And thank
God for that, if you know what I mean. I had this idea that I would become a
better man, a good man, the best dad, and then I'd come back to New York and it
would all be okay."
"James, that is so…" Georgia hesitated. "Naive."
"I'll do you better. It was presumptuous," said James. The two of
them were on the move again, away from the lane and into the flowered side of
the backyard, over to a bench near the rhododendron.
"Arrogant and foolish and pretty darn rude," he concluded. "And
then I show up and realize she's almost a teenager; she doesn't want that
collection of
Barbies
, and all the clothes I bought
weren't her taste anyway. Because I don't know her at all. And it's not about
spending money, anyway."
"You did send us checks, though, and that helped."
"That's what I told myself for years! 'I'm not a deadbeat, because I pay
child support,'" said James. "But that was just another
rationalization. It still didn't make up for me not being there."
"No," Georgia admitted, motioning for James to sit down. He shook his
head.
"Go ahead." She settled in, willing to listen. She'd had good
practice with Cat lately.
"I made a mistake. A big one. But I've gone from thinking I should just
walk away from Dakota to mourning that I could never go back to hoping there's
another chance out there for me and my daughter," he said. "And for
me and you."
"We're not a two-for-one deal, James."
"Then that's okay. It's up to you."
"Yeah," said Georgia. "So answer me a question: Who was that
woman who called on the way to Cat's party?
Lisette
,
I think." Georgia knew darn well what the woman's name had been.
James gave her a funny look.
"
Lisette
?" He paused. "She was my
secretary in Paris. We logged a lot of time together."
"Your secretary?"
"I'll have you know, Georgia, that she's very attractive," James
said, cracking a smile for the first time that evening. "But she's
somewhere upward of sixty years old. She was more like my mom, as likely to
criticize my choice of tie as to type up a report."
"Oh." Georgia was embarrassed. But James felt a surge of hope,
encouraged that Georgia felt a little jealousy.
"I need to know that I told you how I really feel." He was imploring
her now, his voice soft and gentle. "I love you. It never went away. You
just amaze me. You're so smart and funny and sexy and tough. Dakota adores you.
Anita adores you. Cat's afraid to let you out of her sight. And I chase you
around the globe like an idiot. Georgia Walker, you are the kind of person who
sears into the soul. I have never been able to get you out of my mind."
"I doubt that."
"Don't. You, all of you, you're so beautiful." He reached out to her,
but she held up her hand and turned away. There wasn't much more to say. He
felt in his pockets, nervously rubbed a quarter between his thumb and
forefinger. A distraction.
"I've got to go." His voice was almost inaudible. "Don't want to
take up any more of your time."
"James," she said. A statement. James. Standing in front of her. In
Gran's
backyard.
It couldn't really happen back at home, back in New York, surrounded by all the
memories and lingering grief. Here she could see him, finally, not as the
enthusiastic up-and-comer he was once and not as the selfish guy who had left
her, but really and truly as the man he was today. Older. At once more
sophisticated and less sure of himself. With a maturity to match his graying
exterior, the flecks of salt-and-pepper at the temples. There was no boyishness
left around his edges; Georgia could see his entire life story in the tiny
wrinkles around his eyes, see the memories of good times and the crush of
regret when she looked into his eyes. How can you forgive the unforgivable? She
didn't know. Yet, somehow, she already had. (Thank you, Gran!)
Georgia rose, walked slowly around to the back of the bench, and began to
gently touch the polished wood. Without looking at him.
She thought about his letters. She thought about late nights sitting up with
Cat talking about the men they would marry. All the ramblings of a teenager.
The certainty. The insistence that she'd never take back a man who'd cheated on
her. Cat had agreed. And then spent fifteen hellish years with a philandering
jackass. Now, in front of Georgia, stood her own heartbreaker. The great love
of her life. One and the same.
And Georgia knew. She would take him back. Not because he was Dakota's father,
though that counted for something. A lot. And not because she'd been single all
these years. She'd had herself for company and that had turned out to be
enough. Just enough. Nor was it because he'd been trying so hard to make
amends, or because she'd read those long-ago letters, or because he'd grown up
and she knew that, truly, this was a person she could trust. Though, yes,
surely, all those things had an impact. Offered her closure, promised a
beginning.
But there was a greater reason, one that Georgia could openly and honestly
admit, now that the posturing and the defenses and all the misunderstandings
were out of the way.
She loved him. Simply and completely, with an intensity and purity that
startled her awake. She loved him, too.
And she knew then that she would take him into her arms and reveal that he'd
always been in her heart.
Georgia loved James. And that's all there was to it.