Never Too Late (11 page)

Carla flinched when the phone slammed down and backed away from the door when Jamie uttered another expletive. She retreated to her office, her thoughts in tatters. She wrapped her sweater tighter around her shoulders and was deep in thought when a voice startled her.

“You don’t have to come in early.” Jamie’s voice was tight and she looked tired.

Carla gripped the edge of the desk to keep from wrapping her in a hug. That was someone else’s job. “I like the quiet before everyone comes in.” Maybe tomorrow would be a better day to tell her she was leaving. “Gives me a chance to get a jump on the billing before I have to put out fires.” She could at least get the billings caught up before she told her.

“Never a dull moment. Betty’s last day is Friday. Will you be all right on your own?”

The perfect opening. Carla hesitated.

“If not…” Jamie’s face tightened, and her brown eyes were full of worry.

“I’ll be fine, Dr. Hammond.” Jamie’s face relaxed, and Carla created a smile she hoped looked genuine. The smile faded as the truth she’d been avoiding poked through. Deep down she wanted to help Jamie. Deep down she wanted a little more time with her. She trembled. She wanted so much to tell Jamie they’d met once. She wanted her to say, “Oh, my gosh. I didn’t recognize you. Of course I remember that night.” If she laughed and said, “We had some fun, didn’t we?” that would be enough.

*

Sitting in her chair, Jamie stared at her father’s picture.
One problem solved, Dad
. Now, how did she solve her relationship problem?

All weekend she’d been plagued by loneliness—not just short-term, Sheryl’s-gone-for-the-weekend loneliness, but a deep sense of aloneness she realized had been there for a while. She fingered the blue mug with What’s Up, Doc? hand-lettered on the side in Penni’s curly script and took a sip of the lukewarm coffee. It would be terrible even if it were hot. Would the end of the embezzlement problem breathe new life into her relationship? It had to. She couldn’t shake the feeling they were in trouble.

Sheryl had come home jazzed by her seminar, but instead of sharing what happened with Jamie over dinner and a glass of wine, she’d given her a quick kiss on the cheek and said she needed to work while it was all fresh in her mind. She’d still been typing away in the office when Jamie went to bed. How had they ended up living their lives in separate rooms of their home?

Jamie looked at the stack of patient files on her desk. It seemed taller every day this mess went on. She was tired of arguing with insurance companies. She was tired of losing precious time with Sheryl. Wasn’t she supposed to be reaping the rewards of middle age instead of struggling everywhere in her life? Fighting to hang on to what she’d worked for? What mattered? She turned up the volume on the iPod and didn’t care if it boomed through the clinic. Her first patient was still an hour away.

Jamie heard someone come in the back door as she stood in Carla’s office, searching through patient files, pulling out ones she wanted to examine. She tossed another one on the pile. Without the EOBs, she was looking for a needle in a haystack, and she was tired of making calls to the insurance companies that left her feeling like she’d already been tried and convicted. How could she not have noticed EOBs were missing from patient files? Or had Marjorie known she was about to get caught and tried to cover her tracks by destroying them? She clenched her jaw, barely containing the urge to punch the file cabinet. She could lose everything she’d worked for. Why had Marjorie done this to her?

She took a sip of coffee and grimaced. It was an insult to drink, but the caffeine kept her going. Maybe she should turn over more of the burden to her accountant. She slammed the file cabinet shut. No. She’d allowed this mess to happen right under her nose, and she was going to clean it up. The room smelled faintly of Carla’s perfume and she paused for a moment, resting her hand on the sweater draped over her chair.

“Good morning.”

Jamie startled. Carla was standing in the doorway in the same suit and peach blouse she’d worn to the interview. Not even two weeks, but it seemed like she’d always been here.

“What? Do I have lipstick on my blouse?”

Jamie realized she’d been staring. “No.” She picked up her coffee and the files and backed out of the office, trying not to brush against Carla. “You really don’t have to come in early.”

“I brought Kona coffee and thought I’d get a pot made before you got here. Have you ever tried it?”

“It’s my favorite.”

“Good.” Carla set her purse on her desk. “I brought back ten pounds from Hawaii. I don’t know what I was thinking. Why don’t we dump that out and I’ll bring you a fresh cup?”

“Um, okay.” Jamie handed her the mug and took the files to her office.

A few minutes later Carla set a mug of coffee on Jamie’s desk, holding another one. “Try this.”

Jamie took a long sip. “God, that’s good. So, you were in Hawaii recently?” It seemed polite to ask.

“I don’t want to take up your time.”

“It’ll give me an excuse to enjoy the coffee.” And maybe she wanted a peek inside Carla’s life.

Carla sat across from Jamie and crossed her legs. “I took Lissa and Steph over for a month. Graduation present.”

“Is Steph your other daughter?” Jamie had always wanted to go to Hawaii.

“Lissa is my only daughter. Steph is her girlfriend.”

“Um…good for them.” Jamie looked away. She’d assumed the conversation would be about vacation destinations. What were the odds Carla’s daughter was a lesbian?

“I agree. They met freshman year on a soccer team. Started out rivals and ended up best friends.”

“I remember quite a few friendly rivalries that turned into friendships when I played softball at that age.”

“The summer before their senior year they realized their feelings were more than friendship. It was an interesting summer—teenage angst coupled with coming-out issues—but they were clearly falling in love, and I encouraged them to follow their hearts.”

“Commendable,” Jamie said, unsure what else to say. Had someone told Carla she was a lesbian? Should she tell her?

“Coming out was harder on her than it was on me. I’ve always supported gay rights.” Carla’s gaze was uncomfortably fixed on her. “It was also an interesting year. I had my first experience of being called to the principal’s office.”

Jamie’s heart skipped a beat and she swallowed the coffee wrong. She knew who that principal was. She coughed, wishing she hadn’t invited this conversation.

“Are you all right?”

“The caffeine just hit me wrong.” Jamie sank back into the chair. She cringed, remembering some of the things Sheryl had said about the girl’s mother. “Go on,” she said cautiously, unable to deny she was curious to hear the other side of the story.

“Their principal demanded they stop showing affection in public because she’d received complaints from parents that their behavior was offending other students. The girls are conservative with PDAs so that didn’t make sense. And her unwillingness to support their rights outraged me. We threatened legal action against the school district, and she finally backed down.”

“And now your daughter is in college?” If Jamie was doing the math right, Carla already had a family when they met. She stared at Carla’s hands.
Why hadn’t she been wearing that ring? If I’d known…

“They both are. At San Diego State. I miss them so much.” Tears filled her eyes. “Aghh. Ignore me.” She pulled a Kleenex out of her pocket and dabbed her eyes. “This empty-nest stuff is hard to get used to.” Carla stood. “I’ll get to work on the insurance stuff.” She turned back at the door. “I’m glad you like the coffee.”

Jamie nodded, but her thoughts were on the disaster this would become when Sheryl found out who her new office manager was. The relief she’d felt at having her office-manager problem solved flew out the window. The thought of replacing Carla without Betty’s help was too overwhelming to consider. Sheryl never came by the office. Could she make this work until she got the embezzlement problem under control?

Jamie slammed a file down on her desk and opened it.
When do I get a break?

*

Marci was standing in her doorway and Carla signaled that she’d be off the phone in a minute. “Thank you so much, darlin’. Southern gals gotta stick together. You get me those billing records, and I’ll keep you in See’s candy for the rest of your life.”

Carla set the phone back in its cradle and crossed her fingers. She’d been calling insurance companies every spare minute, often from home before she came in, trying to find someone who would help her get copies of what Marjorie had submitted. Most times she got the run-around, but when she heard Pearl’s accent, she’d played the Southern card to the max.

“We’re all taking Betty out to dinner tomorrow to celebrate her retirement. You’ll come, won’t you?”

“Sure.”

“Seven at Maggiano’s. Spouses included.”

“Oh, gosh, I can’t. I forgot. We have tickets to a play.” Carla looked back at her computer screen. Her ears always burned when she lied, but she couldn’t face meeting Jamie’s partner.

“That’s too bad. We’ll miss you.” Marci squeezed her shoulder. “We’re all glad you’re here, Carla. The office is running smoother than it has in a long time, and Jamie seems less stressed.”

“Thanks.” Carla sighed. Maybe she should call Vanessa. She could use another dose of dancing. If only she could banish her attraction to Jamie. Shaking her head she entered the data for the next patient. Might as well finish up today’s billings.

An hour later Carla locked the file cabinets. It had been a productive day. She was caught up on current billings and had made progress in her plan to help Jamie. As soon as those EOBs got here she could match what was billed against what should have been billed. She had a pretty good idea how Marjorie had been embezzling. Jamie probably had the same suspicions, but Carla wanted facts to present to her.

She pulled her sweater from the back of the chair and picked up the insurance forms Jamie needed to sign. Everyone else had left, and Jamie had retired to her office after her last patient twenty minutes ago. She knocked and, when she didn’t get an answer, went in. She was lying on the couch, eyes closed, hands clasped over her stomach. Carla watched her for several minutes before clearing her throat. Jamie didn’t stir.

Standing over her, she studied the woman whose face held a slight frown even in sleep. She wanted to sit and cradle her head in her lap, run her fingers through her hair. Was it as soft as she remembered? Lifting the file off Jamie’s chest and not seeing a blanket, she laid her sweater over her. Her heart filled with the same regret she’d felt that morning watching a younger Jamie sleep. Her mouth went dry and her pulse pounded in her throat. She wanted to touch Jamie again with a ferocity that scared her.

Carla rushed out of the building breathing hard, aching with need, aroused in a way she hadn’t been in twenty years. Why had she thought she could set Jamie aside and move on with her life?

She drove home in a fury of desire, barged through the front door, and threw her purse on the dining table. Kicking off her shoes, she strode down the hall to her bedroom, pawing at the buttons on her blouse. The bra confining her breasts was unbearable, and she bit back a curse of frustration as she ripped it off over her head, then discarded her pants in a heap. She rummaged through the CDs on the dresser and put one in the CD player. Melissa. It didn’t matter which one; they all connected her to Jamie.

She turned on the faucet to the Jacuzzi tub, pacing, surrounded by memories of another tub, another anxious wait for it to fill. She cupped her breast, massaged it, and pinched her nipple, groaning with frustration. It wasn’t her hand she wanted on her aching flesh. She slipped her other hand inside her panties and dove between her lips. Spreading her wetness over her clit, she started the stroking that would release her from the need burning through her.

Tossing her panties aside she slid into the steaming hot water. She wanted to feel scalded. As the jets pounded her back she stroked herself to a hard, fast orgasm, devoid of any pleasure other than release. Tears fell into the water surging against her. She wanted all the passion she’d missed out on. She wanted Jamie. Ten minutes later she stepped out of the tub, angry. No more memories.

Bundled in her favorite pink chenille robe, she marched to the kitchen. Wine first. She opened the refrigerator. Not going to mope over what she couldn’t have. Pasta. She set out eggs and flour. Going to get on with her life. Pesto. She went to her backyard for the last of the basil. There were other women besides Jamie.

At midnight she sat down, exhausted, and stared at the kitchen. Cookies covered the counters. More cookies were bagged and in the freezer. What was she going to do with enough spaghetti sauce to feed ten people? She turned out the lights, set the coffeemaker, and walked to her bedroom, wishing Mike wasn’t out of town. She didn’t want to be alone in the house, alone with memories of laughter and good times.

She slid beneath soft yellow sheets. Maybe she’d get a smaller bed so it didn’t feel so empty. She hadn’t thought about redecorating the bedroom, but that would give her something to do. She reached for the romance novel on the nightstand. After a few pages she set it aside. She was tired of reading about passion instead of living it, and she was tired of reading about heterosexual romance. She’d seen a paperback on the counter in the girls’ apartment, surprised the cover showed two women embracing, even more surprised when Steph explained about lesbian fiction.

What else didn’t she know about? She needed to look at that website and order some lesbian romance novels. That was something she could do for her future. Sadness engulfed her. Did she want a future that consisted of reading about women falling in love? She wanted to feel love—her lips raw from kissing, her skin flushed from orgasms, her fingers wet from…She turned off the light, hugged her pillow to her chest, and cried for the uncertainties of her future.

*

Jamie woke with a start. What was that fragrance? Carla. Sitting up, she looked around the room. The sweater fell to her lap. She fingered it and then held it to her face. Was it the same perfume she’d worn that night? It was close enough to bring a flood of memories. Tossing it on the coffee table, she fled the office.