The Language of Sisters (24 page)

“No,” I said, feeling guilty for bothering her, but knowing I was in no shape to give Jenny the attention she needed. “But could you please come take care of her? I need to go for a drive or something. Clear my head.”

Mom sighed, holding the doorknob with one hand. “All right,” she finally consented. It was still difficult for her getting up with Jenny; sometimes I had to remind her it was her turn. I don’t think she resented doing it. I think it was more that she had fallen out of the habit. Feeling another stab of guilt, I quashed the urge to tell her to go back to bed, knowing I desperately needed to take this brief escape.

I followed her through the house. “Are you sure this is okay with you?” I asked her as we stepped into the bedroom hallway.

She moved past me to my sister’s door. “I’m already up,” she pointed out. “Go.”

I went back into my bedroom, pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, grabbed the keys, and headed out. The night was still; only a few cars moved along the streets, their headlights bright eyes in the dark. I drove down California Avenue through the Junction, marveling at the changed storefronts. I wondered if the drugstore on the corner still handed out a wooden token good for a small ice-cream cone at their fountain while you waited for your prescription.

I found myself changing directions to head toward the beach. Nova’s house was dark, and though I craved a conversation with her, I thought better of disturbing a rare moment of family peace. A glance at the stars might do me some good, I thought, so I drove slowly toward the strip, parked right on the beach, and looked for hidden messages in the sky. Messages that would tell me what to do about Shane, how to make him understand my choice to adopt Jenny’s baby. I barely understood it myself. It wasn’t something I felt I could explain, but the decision was firmly rooted within me. It was instinct—a voice in my heart that was not my sister’s but my own. A voice I hadn’t heard in years but recognized in the deepest levels of my soul. A voice I knew spoke the truth.

I still hadn’t decided what I would do after the baby was born, whether I would take her back to San Francisco or stay here and try to build a life. I knew Shane wouldn’t move; he had gone too far in his career to make a change now. And if I was honest with myself, I didn’t miss much about my life there; I couldn’t see myself going back. Every sign pointed to the end of our relationship, the brightest of these my feelings for Garret.

I sighed, reaching to pull the seat lever so I could recline all
the way back. I rested my hands behind my head, elbows pointing out, contemplating the pinpoint dots of the car’s interior ceiling. I counted them, as I had always counted things, to gain some semblance of mental control.

Was I giving up on Shane because it was the right thing to do or was I indulging a whimsical attraction that would simply pass with time? Shane’s reaction to the adoption would be the deciding point for our future, and though I felt as sure as I possibly could about the baby, I was shaky in my resolve to end what had been a comfortable relationship. A safe relationship.

I was used to being safe, cutting myself off from conflict and turbulent feelings. Adopting a baby, staying in Seattle, and pursuing a perfection-minded single father was definitely not safe, but the idea of it made me feel more alive, more like the self I had always longed to be. It made me feel strong, authentic. Like my soul had finally settled inside my flesh.

After returning my seat to the upright position, I fired up the car again, thinking it was time to head back home. But before I realized what I was doing, I had driven a couple of blocks down to park in front of the Beach Basket. A soft light glowed in the back of the restaurant, and I saw the silhouette of Garret’s dark head popping around in the kitchen. I debated with myself only a minute before carefully observing whether anyone lurked in the doorway, ready to attack, then sprinted to the front window and rapped on it with my knuckles. I saw Garret jump in surprise, his hand over his chest as he strode to unlock the door. I smoothed my curls, realizing how wild they must look after hours spent tossing and turning on a pillow.

“Hi,” I said meekly, stepping inside. “Sorry if I scared you.”

“That’s okay. Who needs a regular heartbeat?” He latched the door behind me. He wore Levi’s and a plain white T-shirt. “What’re you doing out this late?”

“Ever have one of those nights where your body wants to sleep but your brain has other plans?”

“I’m right there with you. Jackie called tonight.” His face carried a strained look I had not seen before.

“Oh,” I said. He hadn’t mentioned his ex-wife in a while. “Wow. Tough conversation, I take it?”

He shrugged, indifferent.

I tried again. “When was the last time you talked to her?”

“It’s been a while.” His expression was closed, his tone clipped. I was dying to know why she’d called him, but I decided not to push for details. If he wanted to tell me about it, he would. I hoped.

He gestured toward the kitchen. “Anyway. That’s why I’m here. I don’t know how to get my mind clear other than work. Pitiful, huh?”

“Not at all.” I’d spent six months in the bakery doing the exact same thing.

He took my hand. “Come on back. I’m experimenting.”

I followed him. “So Lucy’s still at Nova’s?”

“Yup. Friday night sleepover with Rebecca.”

The kitchen gleamed beneath the fluorescent lights. Garret moved over to the stove, where he resumed whipping a magical-smelling concoction in a heavy-bottomed saucepan. I hopped up onto a stool by the counter, legs dangling. “What are you working on? It smells luscious.”

“A sauce for the chicken special this week. Champagne, butter, heavy cream, and a little garlic with sweet grapes.”

“Sounds like a Weight Watchers entrée.”

“Oh yeah, we take out all the fat and calories. Just a little customer service we provide.”

“I thought you said you tried to keep the menu light.”

“The menu, yes. The specials, no.” He stuck his finger into
the sauce, then his mouth. “Umm-mm. Want to give me a second opinion?”

“Sure.” I jumped down, walked over to stand next to him. I reached for a spoon, but before I could find one, he stuck his finger back into the pan, then held it up to my mouth, his other hand cupped under my chin to catch the drips. I licked my lips and opened my mouth, pulse pounding in my belly.
Oh, God, what am I doing?
I thought as his finger rolled slowly on my tongue, filling my mouth with an exquisite flavor.

His gaze never left my eyes, and as he started to pull his hands back, I grabbed his wrists and touched his palms to my face. His eyes questioned only for a moment before leaning in, soft lips against mine like the touch of a feather, then firmer, more insistent. I closed my eyes and matched my breath with his, our lips moving in what felt like a remembered dance. My hands found his waist, and I rested them there. His entire body pressed against me, and I felt like I had finally come home.

“Wow,” he breathed when we parted.

I smiled softly, my insides gooey and loose. “Definitely what a girl likes to hear after she kisses a boy.”

“I thought it was me who kissed you,” he said, grinning. A sharp, ugly smell suddenly rose up next to us. “Shit!” He yanked the pan from the burner, the tender cream base blackened and bubbled. “There goes that batch.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.” I wrinkled up my nose. “You stuck your drooly finger in it anyway.”

He laughed. “You’re probably right. Want to help me make some more?”

I clapped my hands, rubbing them together. “You bet. Got an apron?”

We passed an hour in front of the stove, chopping and stirring, testing for the quality of champagne by sipping at the bottle.
Eventually, we rested in the dining room in facing chairs, my feet in his lap. The position felt oddly comfortable, as though we’d been doing it for years.

“Nova tells me you’ve decided to go ahead with the adoption,” he said, his hands cupped over the toes of my shoes. He jiggled my legs. “How’s it feel?”

“Honestly?”

“Of course.”

“Scary as hell.”

“Are you still afraid there’ll be something wrong with the baby?”

“Sort of. More that I won’t be able to
handle
something being wrong with her. That I’ll chicken out and leave her the same way I left my sister. Is that terrible of me to say?”

“Not at all. Sounds like you’re being honest with yourself.” He paused. “It’s obviously not the same situation, but when Jackie left us I had some heavy doubts about whether I’d make it alone. At one point, I even called an adoption lawyer.”

“Really?” I couldn’t imagine him even considering such a thing. “What stopped you?”

“Lucy told me she loved me for the first time. I also realized I’d basically been parenting her by myself anyway, even with Jackie there. So I just took a deep breath and decided to do it. I still feel shaky, some days, if that makes you feel any better.”

I grinned halfheartedly. “Not really.” I reached up, tucked my hair behind my ears.

We were quiet for a moment until his gaze drifted to the floor and he asked, “How does Shane feel about the whole adoption?”

I ducked my chin to my chest. “I haven’t exactly told him yet.”

Garret lifted his eyes from the floor and raised his dark eyebrows in genuine surprise.

“I know, I know. I’m a wimp. Let’s just leave it at that.” I didn’t know how to explain all that was spinning in my mind. I wasn’t sure I was ready to tell him just how heavily my feelings for him were weighing in my decision process about Shane. I didn’t want to scare him out of his wits.

“Whatever you say.” He sounded doubtful, but then continued in a lighter tone, glancing toward the kitchen. “Hey. Want some coconut ice cream? The cook whipped up some this afternoon. It should be frozen by now.”

I shook my head. “I think I reached my cream limit tasting that sauce.”

“Are you sure? It’s yummy.”

“Yummy?”
I poked his stomach gently with my foot. “You are such a dad. No childless man would ever use the word ‘yummy.’”

“So? ‘Yummy’ happens to be a good word. Very descriptive of this particular ice cream. But if you’re sure you don’t want any … ” He batted his eyelashes at me in an exaggerated fashion.

“Oh, what the hell,” I said, pulling my feet from his lap and slapping my palms against the tops of my thighs. “It’s two in the morning, right? Perfect time for ice cream.”

Garret jumped up and rubbed his hands together conspiratorially. “All right! I knew you’d give in.” He made a stop sign with an outstretched palm. “Stay right here. I’ll go get it.”

My heart jumped in my chest as I watched him basically skip into the kitchen, marveling over how ridiculously happy I felt. Shane would rather be dead than caught skipping. The thought of him washed over me in a waterfall of guilt, and I glanced around as though he might be standing in a corner, watching me.
I shouldn’t be here,
I thought. But that
kiss.
Oh, my. I stood up just as Garret returned from the kitchen, two bowls in hand.

“I’m really sorry,” I said, “but I should probably get going.”

He stopped, set the bowls down on the table next to him. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. Just feeling the guilt thing, you know?”

He moved over to me, took my hands in his. “Shane?”

I nodded, my eyes glued to his face. “I need to make some decisions. Take care of a few things before … Well, just before.”

“Did I step over the line, kissing you? I thought you wanted me to.”

I squeezed his hands. “Oh, yeah. I wanted you to. That’s not all I wanted, which is probably why I should get the hell out of here.” I paused, tried to read his expression. “Are you angry?”

He smiled. “Just at myself.”

“What for?”

He pulled at my arm playfully. “You know exactly what for.”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t.”

He leaned forward again, his lips against mine before I realized it was happening. My breath caught in my chest when he pulled away.

“Feel that?” he whispered.

“Oh, yeah,” I exhaled.

“That’s why I’m angry. That I might lose my chance at this. Having it happen with you.”

Tears tickled the corners of my eyes, and I smiled at him. “Take a girl’s breath away, why don’t you?”

Garret took my hands, held them against his lips as he spoke. “Just give me the chance, Nicole. You won’t know what hit you.”

•  •  •

As Jenny napped late the next afternoon, I decided I’d better do the same. My birthday was later in the week, but since it was Saturday, Nova had a small party planned for that evening. I wanted to appear well-rested. I knew Garret would be there, and the simple thought of him curled my lips into an indulgent smile. Burrowing under a light blanket and pushing away the guilty feelings that nipped at my heels, I basked in the memory of the kiss we’d shared. Just as I was about to drift off, a sharp, insistent rap at the front door woke me.

“Mom?” I called out. She knew I was tired; she had still been awake when I got home the night before and had gotten an edited version of my time with Garret. Mom had met him at Nova’s barbecue, and though I hadn’t told her of the feelings I had for him, I was pretty sure she suspected they existed. “Mom?” I said again, hopeful she would answer the door so I wouldn’t have to get up.

When she didn’t answer me, I assumed she hadn’t heard the door, so I rolled reluctantly from bed and pulled on a green button-down blouse and my favorite jeans. As I entered the kitchen, I saw Shane coming in from the living room at the same time. Mom was right behind him. “Surprise!” he said as he strode over to kiss me. “Happy birthday!” I stood frozen.

“Shane,” I started, finding my voice. “What are you doing here?”

“He came all the way from San Francisco just to surprise you,” my mother piped up. She went to sit at the table, a half-eaten chef’s salad in front of her. “I told him you were sleeping because you were up with Jenny all night.” Her eyes were bright, trying to communicate something to me. She must have suspected my feelings for Garret; otherwise, she wouldn’t be making such a point of not telling Shane the real reason I was so tired. I felt a twinge of kinship with her.