Spring Tide (24 page)

“This is your family?” Jackie asked.

“Uh-huh.” Stef leaned against the kitchen counter, facing Jackie. “The one on the left is my maternal grandmother. Grandma Mattie. She’s been gone awhile now. The other one is my mom and brothers, Jay and Bruce.”

“Your mother’s very tall. Where does she live?”

“Hayward. Same house I grew up in. Grandma Mattie lived in the next block, so whenever I was angry or sad or hungry I ran over there for comfort. I always thought of her as my refuge.” A brief, distant smile passed across Stef’s face. “Mostly from my brothers.”

“It’s always good to have a place to run to,” Jackie conceded. “Does your mother still work?”

“Yes. She works in a doctor’s office. General office stuff.”

Jackie nodded. “What about you? What sort of work do you do?”

Stef hesitated, looking suddenly troubled. “I’m unemployed,” she said, averting her eyes.

The teakettle let out a shrill whistle. Stef lifted it off the burner and poured the hot water into a glass pitcher, into which she dropped a tea infuser.

“That’ll need to sit there awhile,” she said, turning back to Jackie, who sat with her hands on either side of her, pushing down against the couch cushion.

Jackie wondered what unhappy thoughts she had triggered with her question. She stood and walked up to Stef, slipping her hands loosely around her waist, then kissed her tenderly on the mouth. She looked into those tragic hazel eyes, wishing she could see what lay beyond. Stef stood limply, seeming not to know how to respond. Jackie had expected more enthusiasm and wasn’t sure what this ambivalence meant. It seemed that for every step forward with Stef, she slid two steps back.

“So why didn’t you call me back?” Jackie asked, trying to sound more curious than accusing. “I thought we were going somewhere.”

Stef attempted a smile and touched Jackie’s cheek gently. “Maybe because I’m not sure where we’re going. Maybe you’re going somewhere I’m not. You said the other day you’re looking for somebody to be serious about. I’m not that person, Jackie.”

“How do you know? We’ve barely gotten started.”

Stef look conflicted, as if she were arguing with herself. Jackie wished she could hear that argument, wished she could understand what ghosts haunted Stef’s mind. She hoped this was the moment Stef opened up to her. But instead of talking, Stef pulled her close to kiss her, and Jackie gladly cooperated. They stood beside the kitchen counter in a close embrace, their kisses long and sensuous. Everywhere their bodies touched, Jackie’s skin tingled with raw energy.

“Kissing you is incredible,” Jackie breathed when they pulled apart.

Stef smiled. “It’s not bad from my point of view either. Do you think this is what Marcus meant when he suggested we go do ‘girl stuff’?”

“I doubt it, but I’ll take this over painting your toenails any day.”

Stef snorted. “You just try to paint my toenails and I’ll—”

“Hey!” called Marcus near the kitchen window.

Stef and Jackie broke abruptly apart. Stef leaned toward the window and hollered out. “What’s up?”

“There’s a lot of crud. Floats are shot. We’ll need new ones. Fuel filter too. Gummed up.” He walked up the steps to the sliding glass door and peered through.

“That was fast,” Stef remarked to Jackie. She slid the door open.

Marcus wiped his hands on a rag. “I’ll need to get carburetor kits and rebuild the whole dang things. That should do the trick.”

“Are you sure?” Stef asked.

“Sure as eggs is eggs.”

“Will that be expensive?”

“Naw! Less than forty bucks for the kits. Just a bunch of gaskets, mainly, and then you got your fuel filter. A few bucks more. The thing is, parts for this classic won’t be sitting on the shelf at Jim’s Marina. I’ll make some calls and see if I can find ’em. Might have to order ’em.”

Stef nodded her understanding.

“Is there a head in this thing?” Marcus asked. “I’d like to wash up before we go.”

Stef pointed. “Straight down the hall on the right.”

Marcus held up his grease-covered hands. “You got anything to cut this grease?”

“There’s a bar of lava soap in the drawer under the counter there,” Stef said, indicating the shelf next to where Jackie stood. “Jackie, can you grab that?”

“This is a nice little place,” Marcus announced, glancing around appreciatively. “Not bad at all.”

Jackie pulled open a drawer. Lying face up inside was a five-by-seven framed photo of two uniformed police officers, a man and a woman. She lifted it out of the drawer, recognizing Stef’s face, all smiles, leaning familiarly against a handsome Hispanic man with a thin mustache. He had his arm slung around her shoulders. Near the bottom of the picture was scrawled the message, “Next time, Hot Stuff!” Before Jackie could process what she was looking at, Stef seized the photo from her hand, saying, “The other drawer.”  Her voice was sharp. Jackie looked at her face as she shut the drawer on the photo and opened the one next to it to retrieve a bar of soap. Her expression was full of frustration. She was clearly unhappy that Jackie had stumbled on that photo.

Soap in hand, Marcus walked down the hall, whistling.

“You’re a police officer,” Jackie stated, suddenly comprehending how much sense that made.

Stef shook her head. “No, I’m not. Not anymore.”

“But you were. That’s you in that picture.”

“I used to be a cop.” Stef turned to the sink, avoiding Jackie’s eyes.

“It looks like a recent photo,” Jackie persisted. “How long ago did you quit?”

Stef turned back to face Jackie, her face full of conflict, as if she were battling an internal debate. She was so changed from a few minutes ago, as if she’d fallen from her soaring place in the sky, like a kite that had lost the wind. Jackie was sorry she’d stumbled onto something that was clearly painful, but she was encouraged to think she was on the verge of a discovery. Stef looked, for a fleeting, promising moment, like she was going to open up. But then, just as suddenly, she closed.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said softly. “It’s all in the past.”

Frustrated, Jackie was unable to let it go. “Did something happen? You can tell me. I’ll understand.”

“Look,” Stef responded, an edge of anger in her voice, “I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“It’s a little tight in there.” Marcus was on his way back to the main cabin. “But gets the job done. I’ll let you know when I find the parts. Then I’ll get her going. Guaranteed. You’ll see.”

Stef nodded. “Thanks again, Marcus.”

“You’re welcome.” He turned to Jackie. “I’m ready if you are.”

Marcus led the way out and Jackie followed, feeling injured. She paused in the doorway to make a silent connection with Stef. She looked slightly apologetic, but Jackie understood the apology was for her harsh tone of voice, not for her refusal to let Jackie into her world.

“Bye,” she said quietly, then followed Marcus to the truck.

Gail and Jackie sat down on the bench in front of the bait shop with their ice cream cones, concentrating on licking them down to cone level before they melted. It was morning, just starting to heat up, and they were passing time while deciding what to do with their day. As often happened on Saturday, Pat was working and Gail was on her own. They’d narrowed their choices down to kayaking or a movie, but Jackie, whose mood was dipping below normal, wasn’t enthusiastic about either.

The bench they sat on was the front seat from her grandfather’s
1957 Chevy Bel-Air. The rest of the car had gone to the junkyard years ago. Jackie had never seen it, but she had seen photos—a chunky looking turquoise and white classic with wide whitewall tires, convertible roof, chrome trim, and pronounced fins in the back, like a rocket ship. The seat was two-tone, turquoise panels surrounded by ivory trim. Grandpa came by and washed it on a regular basis, but the vinyl was cracked in several places and discolored by age.

“Maybe she’s on the lam,” Gail said between ice cream licks, continuing a conversation from earlier. “Running from the law.”

“She
is
the law.”

“She used to be the law. Maybe she was one of those dirty cops who got caught and made a break for it.”

“I doubt that. I don’t think she’s a criminal.”

“If there’s no crime, why won’t she talk?”

Jackie shrugged. “Something bad happened. Something that hurts too much to talk about.”

Gail bit into her cone with a crunch. “Then maybe you shouldn’t push her. I know it hurts your feelings that she won’t tell you, but if it’s that painful, maybe you should respect her need to keep it to herself. Maybe someday she’ll tell you. In her own time.”

“The thing is, I could help.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. For a lot of things, the only cure is time.”

Jackie sighed resignedly. “You’re right. But I could at least make the time go easier. You saw how much she enjoyed that day out on the river.”

“You’re taking credit for that?” Gail raised an eyebrow.

“Not entirely. But the next day, out at Disappointment Slough, I’m taking credit for that. She seemed really happy. Maybe I could just help get her mind off it, that’s all.”

“Maybe you could, just by being with her. Make her laugh, distract her and try not to worry about the rest. It’ll work itself out.” She sucked liquefied ice cream from the base of her cone. “You too. Try to have fun. You definitely have her interested. She’s tasted the bait. Now land the hook and reel her in.”

Jackie looked askance at Gail before concentrating on her ice cream and silently considering her advice.

After popping the last of her cone in her mouth, Gail leaned against the back of the bench contentedly. “This thing,” she asked, returning to the subject on both of their minds, “whatever her dark secret is, are you sure that isn’t the attraction?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how you are, Jacks. You can’t resist a homeless mutt. The more messed up they are, the more you want to take them in and cuddle ’em up.”

“That may be true of animals, but it isn’t true of women. Loser women don’t appeal to me at all. Besides, I don’t think Stef’s like that, a messed up mutt. I think she’s just going through a rough period.” Ice cream dripped on the wooden floorboards of the porch next to Jackie’s feet. She finished her cone before continuing her train of thought. “Maybe she’s like a champion horse with an injury. With a lot of care, she can be a champion again. She still has all the potential. She just needs someone to believe in her capacity to heal.”

Gail sputtered sarcastically. “A champion horse?  You’re so confident she can be healed, even though you don’t know what she needs to heal from.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes! What if she’s a homicidal maniac or a drug addict or…she’s got a fatal illness? Whatever it is, it’s bad enough she can’t tell you. You don’t know anything about her, really, do you?”

Jackie frowned. Gail was right. It could be anything. But she hadn’t even considered the idea of a fatal illness. What if Stef quit her job because she was dying? Floating along the tranquil waterways of the Delta might easily be someone’s idea of a good way to use up her last few months alive.

About to lapse into despair, Jackie suddenly realized that was a ridiculous idea. Stef was strong and vibrant, the picture of health.

She punched Gail in the arm.

“Ouch!” Gail complained, grabbing the spot. “What was that for?”

“For trying to kill off my girlfriend.”

Gail scowled her bewilderment before releasing her arm and sinking back into the car seat.

“You want to see what I got for my mother?” Jackie asked, not waiting for Gail’s answer. She pulled a two-piece shorts outfit from her tote bag and held it up by its hanger. The shorts were yellow with white piping and the shirt was white with yellow sleeves and collar. A simple swirl design in yellow and green adorned the front of the shirt, an abstract floral motif.

“That’s really cute!” Gail said. “Is it her birthday?”

“No. Just something I picked up for her. I thought I’d give it to her this morning, but she’s not here, so I’ll just leave it with Dad.” She folded the outfit and tucked it back in her bag.