Authors: Julie Carobini
Sweet Waters (14 page)
“Mel is here!” Camille leads the way into the house, Mel behind her, followed by one spit-and-polished Shane. “She called from the airport in SLO, so Shane drove me down to get herâand we got burgers!” She holds up two grease-stained sacks.
Mel's hair falls in cascades on and around her shoulders. I've always been a bit envious of its lushness, and tonight is no exception. She looks prettierâand happierâthan ever. She hugs me, and I squeeze her back, wishing this reunion wasn't filled with so much uncertainty.
“You made it here a day early,” I say.
Mel glances around, her eyes stopping randomly, staring at the kitschy beach décor that came with our cottage. Her attention turns to me. “It works. And close to the beach too. You didn't have to fight it out with someone else, did you? There's no little old lady crying in her soup over losing this one, I hope.”
I shake my head. “Being on your own hasn't changed you one bit.”
“In other words, I'm still as nasty as always.”
“Hey, admitting it is the first step.”
Shane's already helping himself to a burger as Camille pulls plates from the cabinets and sets them on the table. “Would you two quit it? Here you haven't seen each other in weeks and you've started bickering already.” She tosses forks and napkins onto the table, surprising me with a rarely seen take-charge attitude. “You're both stubborn, if you ask me.”
We answer in unison. “Am not!”
We scooch ourselves into the built-in booth, and I snag a fry, thankful for the lightness of the moment. Mel takes a whammy of a bite from her burger. “Ahm. Stahved.”
“Don't talk with your mouth full,” I scold.
Camille wags her head, curls flopping all around her. “Nothing's changed here.” She turns to Shane. “Of the three of us, Tara's always been like the mom . . .”
Mel swallows her bite. “Yeah, like the mean, old mom.”
Camille laughs. “And Mel is her bratty child. I, on the other hand, am the angelic baby of the bunch.” She bats her eyes, which looks quite adorable until Shane wiggles his eyebrows at her and I have to resist the urge to slap him.
I clear my throat until all eyes look my way. “Mel, you have more stuff on the porch than Camille and I have together. Almost looks like you're planning to move here indefinitely.” I laugh, as if that's absurd.
Mel shrugs, but then her shoulders deflate and she glances away.
Camille looks to me, then to Mel. She sets down her hamburger and wipes her fingers on a paper towel. “Shane, honey. Help me drag in Mel's things, will you?”
The screen door bounces against the frame, and I reach across to touch Mel's wrist. “I am sorry, you know.”
“About what?”
A sigh escapes me, and I'm not sure if it's for herâor for me. “I just meant that although the interviews didn't go well, there's something better out there for you. I know it, Mel.”
“Who says they didn't work out?”
Through the open doorway, I can see Shane tottering through the living room carrying more bags than any rational person would.
Probably didn't want to make two trips.
Camille's behind him, pulling a single case on wheels. “Well, they obviously didn't, because why else would you be here?”
Probably didn't want to make two trips.
Camille's behind him, pulling a single case on wheels. “Well, they obviously didn't, because why else would you be here?”
“Both companies wanted me, but I . . .” She shrugs, her gaze landing nowhere. “I turned them both down.”
“Oh. Oh? Then there must have been something wrong with the working conditions.”
“Not really.”
“The money. They were offering you a pittance. In this day and age, that is just . . .”
Mel sits back, her arms crossed. “The money was pretty fabulous actually.”
I stand, and walk over to the garbage can, filling it with the paper that had held our meal, confused. Turning back to her, I flip my palms upward. “Then what in the world was wrong?”
She studies the fingernails on one hand, as if checking for dirt. Her eyes flash briefly, before her gaze catches with mine. “I missed my family. You have a problem with that?”
Despite everything I've learned in the last few days about my parents' past in this supposed Shangri-la, I find myself further surprised. Ever since she was a teenager, Mel has been planning her escape from our family. I always thought she'd make her move during college, but instead she attended school nearbyâalthough we rarely saw her face around home before 11:00 p.m. When she finally earned that degree last year, I thought,
She's out of here.
But then she helped her friend Mary Jane set up and run her own line of organic baby clothing. And now, after setting out on her own and finding terrific work in marketing, she's come back across the country . . . because she missed us?
She's out of here.
But then she helped her friend Mary Jane set up and run her own line of organic baby clothing. And now, after setting out on her own and finding terrific work in marketing, she's come back across the country . . . because she missed us?
I slide into a seat across from her. “We missed you too, Mel-Mel.”
“Don't get all sloppy on me. I'm not staying forever. Just thought I'd, you know, come check the place out. See what's the big deal.”
“I'm so glad to hear you say that.” I gesture to the side deck with my head, and Mel follows me out. We settle into the Adirondacks, the night enfolding us. I sigh. “Frankly, Mel, things really aren't working out here, and I want to head back to Missouri.”
I hadn't realized that Camille stood just behind the French doors. She charges onto the deck. “You
what?”
what?”
Mel's arms stay crossed across her body. She shakes her head. “You're going to have a tough time with this one, big sister.”
Camille tosses her curls to one side. “You dragged me all the way here and now you want to leave? I don't think so.”
Tension wraps itself around my forehead and temples like a thick leather strap. “Camille, I've thought thisâ”
Her eyes grow big and round and angry, and her normally bouncy voices cuts into the night quiet. “You never give anything a chance!”
My fingers clench. “I give
everything
a chance.” I try hard to control the emotion in my voice. “I worked at the same auto parts store for five yearsâthat's chance. I believed Trent when he said he wanted to marry me, and I asked Mom many times to take us back to Otter Bayâall chances.
And
I came all the way out here only to find out that, hey, it's not the happy place I remembered. At least I
gave
it a chance!”
everything
a chance.” I try hard to control the emotion in my voice. “I worked at the same auto parts store for five yearsâthat's chance. I believed Trent when he said he wanted to marry me, and I asked Mom many times to take us back to Otter Bayâall chances.
And
I came all the way out here only to find out that, hey, it's not the happy place I remembered. At least I
gave
it a chance!”
Camille scrunches her round face until her cheeks turn red. “That old woman said one thingâone mean thing about Dad. You didn't have to be so snarky with her. Why does what she has to say matter anyhow?”
Mel stands and walks back into the kitchen. I hear the fridge door open and her steps back out to the deck. She holds a bottle of water, opens the cap, and takes a long, lingering drink. “So much is clear to me now, Tara.” She recaps the bottle, sets it on the large, flat arm of her chair, and sits back down next to me. “You want everything to be easy. Controllable. And when it's not? You run.”
“Oh brother, that's just not true.”
“Oh no? What about your old job? I couldn't have stood being in that drab office all day, but you withstood it mainly, I think, because it was easy. You knew the job, they paid you well, and you didn't have to spend anything extra on a new wardrobe to work there. So why leave? And Trent. I couldn't have made it more than a year of that boy's half-hearted commitment, but youâyou lasted five.”
I'm incensed. “You're the one who said he was the best thing that ever happened to me!”
She shrugs. “I always figured that's the way you wanted it, but now I see that it was just easy. You knew him and his family and didn't have to stretch yourself at any time. If it weren't for a little thing called a marriage license, you'd still be there with him in a relationship that had less passion than two pieces of fruit.”
Camille giggles, then sobers. “Sorry. That was funny.”
I smooth my hair back in place, gathering my temper with it. “I told you from the start that this was a long vacation, that we'd see how it went. Look around you, Mel. Camille and I are still living mostly on the paltry supplies we brought with us.
You're
the only one with more luggage than the Queen of England. Okay, sure, I admit that I'd hoped we'd love it hereâI even rented this cottage, for goodness sakes!”
You're
the only one with more luggage than the Queen of England. Okay, sure, I admit that I'd hoped we'd love it hereâI even rented this cottage, for goodness sakes!”
A throat clears, and all three of us turn to see Shane standing in the doorway looking as uncomfortable as a preteen boy seeing his mom in a bikini. “Uh, thanks for the burger. Cam, I gotta go.” He steps out onto the patio and slips down the stairs and almost out of sight to the street. Camille follows him and catches him by the corner of the house. She does nothing to hide the drawn-out kiss they share.
When she returns, her face remains flushed, probably not from our conversation. “You're not fooling me, Tara. You planned on staying here all alongâjust like I said that day at the diner, when we first met Nigel. But I've been thinking, and Mel is right. It would take a burning bush for you to do anything new. I think you've been wanting to come out here ever since Dad died, but you were too scared. When Mom left, you somehow found the courageâ”
Mel cuts in. “And now that it's not going the way you planned, you're giving up and crawling back to your old, dull,
predictable
life.”
predictable
life.”
Camille flops into the empty Adirondack, her eyes on me. “I'm not going anywhere.”
Mel joins her. “And neither am I.”
WhHAT WOULD ELIZA DO?
The girls are in bed, but once again I'm up into the night because no sleep will come. The laptop whirs against the quiet. My sisters are against me, and other than a brief, vague “yes” about Coastal Christian from Mom via Facebook, and a promise to call me “just as soon as I sign up for international calling,” I'm alone. Thankfully, the plucky Eliza Carlton has kept me company with her philosophies on life and all its idiosyncrasies.
From the daily digest I learned how Eliza handled a similar situation when her older brother, Emil, was accused of plagiarism. So he was guilty? He'd always been her protector, the one who took care of her and another brother when their parents died in that Guatemalan plane crash. Because of his devotion and care of her, and because she knew his heart had been spun from gold, she'd decided to defend his honor, no matter what he may or may not have done.
I sigh. Part of me still wants to pick up and move back to Missouri, to forget about this crazy thing I've done and go back to the comfort of familiarity. Mel and Camille accuse me of running, but who doesn't wrap themselves in their favorite wool sweater when they're cold? Or take a sip of their mother's chamomile tea remedy when they're sick? No, the girls have me all wrong.
And yet, I have to admit, another part of my heart longs to be here, despite what appears to be a mistake my father once made. Whatever my father actually did, well, it happened many years ago. His life is a testament to something so much more, so much better, than old sins. Like Eliza, I long for the world to know the real man.
And so they shall. My mind is made up. I will defend my father's honor, no matter what. Peg, and anyone else who questions our family's right to be here, better get used to the idea.
Fast.
Chapter Fourteen
“Well, well, big sister. You've been holding out on me.” Mel peers over the menu at a parade of surfers strolling through the Red Abalone Grill, their bodies carved lean, and tan. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
Camille giggles. “Tara's not interested in them. She's got her eye on a fireman.” She stretches out
man
like she's some flirty country singer.
man
like she's some flirty country singer.
I smirk. “Can I help it if he knows hotness when he sees it?”
Mel and Camille scream, their volume cutting through the diner's din and drawing all eyes on us. Mel slaps me on the head with her menu, and Camille flops back against the booth, her curls falling all over her face, peals of giggles refusing to stop.
I lean forward. “For heaven's sake, it's not that funny.”
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