Things I Want to Say (33 page)

She hurried away, leaving Karen to ponder how much she had in common with her soon-to-be-former sister-in-law, and how differently their lives had turned out.

She was still sitting there when Del found her. “Sheila get tired of bad-mouthing me and leave?” he asked.

“She said she had a date.”

“Humph. I ought to find out who it is and send the guy a sympathy card.” He looked around the bar. The crowd had thinned and the jukebox had switched to mournful Hank Williams. “This place is dead. Let’s go find some action some where else.”

Karen followed him out to his truck. “I think I want to go home,” she said.

“Home? The night is young.” He unlocked her door, then went around the driver’s side.

“I know, but I’m tired. And I don’t like leaving Dad at night like this.”

“Casey’s with him. He’ll be okay.” He started the truck and backed out of his parking space.

“Casey’s still only sixteen.” And not the most mature sixteen-year-old she’d ever met. “What if Dad falls?” Her
stomach clenched at the thought. “Or what if he chokes? He still has trouble swallowing sometimes and—”

“What if he does?” Del’s voice was cold. He turned onto the highway and sped up. “It wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

She caught her breath and stared at him. “Del! You don’t mean that. He’s your father.”

He glanced at her, his expression as calm as if they were discussing whether or not the fish were biting. “How much difference is it really going to make to you if he’s dead or alive?”

“It will make a difference.” Surely it would.

“Not to me it won’t. And if he dies, at least I stand to inherit a little dough.”

“Del, you don’t mean that.”

He glanced at her again. “You think I’m the world’s biggest bastard for using the old man for whatever I can get, but I don’t believe you’re any better.”

“What do you mean? I’ve never asked him for a dime. And I put aside everything to come down here to look after him.”

“Yeah, but why would you do that? It’s not as if you were close to him before. It’s not like he’d do the same for you.”

“You don’t know that—”

“Hear me out.” He held up one hand. “You see, I’m thinking you rushed down here because you want something from the old man. It’s not about him at all. It’s about what you think he’s going to give you.”

“That’s not true!”
Was it?
“Wanting to have a relationship with my father isn’t a bad thing,” she protested.

“What about what he wants? He was okay with keeping his distance for forty years. Why should he change now?”

“I can’t believe he wants to spend the rest of his life alone.”

“Some people do. And some of them are perfectly happy doing it. Or as happy as they ever get.”

He made a sharp turn onto a side road, throwing her against the passenger door. “Del, slow down!”

He ignored her and punched the accelerator harder. “So see, I’m not the only selfish one in this family. Just because you want something more
noble
than money doesn’t mean you aren’t using him the same way I am.”

She braced herself with one hand on the dash. Why hadn’t she had the sense to call a cab from the bar? Del was in no condition to drive. And he had no business second-guessing her motives for being here.

“All right, what if Dad thinks he’s content being so distant from his children? That doesn’t mean he’s right.”

Del eased off the gas and slowed the truck. “Haven’t you heard the expression, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?”

“We’re not talking about learning to sit or roll over. We’re talking about communicating. Getting to know each other. We’ve got time now to try. Time we never really had before.”

He shook his head. “You talk like those things aren’t a lot harder than sitting up and rolling over.” His face had gone slack and he looked tired, and much older. And more like Martin than Karen would have thought possible. “You’d be better off making your peace with the old man, the way I have.”

“You mean giving up.”

“I’m not beating my head against the wall and trying to change somebody who won’t change, if that’s what you mean.”

“People can change.” She’d changed, just in the few weeks she’d been here. She’d started to look at her life and herself differently. To see possibilities she’d never considered before. All these new choices were both scary and exciting.

“Go ahead, then,” Del said as he turned onto the road leading to her father’s house. “It’s your funeral. But stop lying to yourself and pretending you’re only here for him.”

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. “All right, I’ve heard you. You can shut up now.” She didn’t want to listen to him anymore. What if she was here because she wanted something from her father, and not purely out of daughterly devotion? Was that so bad? Considering how many years she’d spent helping her husband, raising children and running a household and a business, maybe it was time she did something that was purely selfish.

Two days later, having given up on Del, Karen asked Casey to mow the lawn for her. He promised he would, then left to go fishing, taking Sadie with him. So Karen found herself one hot afternoon the next week in the shed behind the house, pouring gas into the tank of the riding lawn mower and cursing the men in her life.

Del should have done this. She wasn’t buying any of his excuses. She tossed the empty gas can aside and replaced the tank lid, wrinkling her nose at the sour smell of the gas. This was one more example of the way he slacked off on his responsibilities. Would it have killed him to help her with this one thing?

Her feelings toward Casey were more mixed. She was annoyed with him for not fulfilling his promise before taking off to go fishing. At the same time, she was reluctant to come down too hard on him. How many boys his age would want to spend the summer helping to look after his grandfather and doing chores? He deserved some downtime.

Tom would say she was being too soft on him, that a boy should keep his commitments. And he was right. But Casey was her baby, and he wouldn’t be hers much longer. She didn’t want to be the bad guy all the time with him. Not when he
responded to kindness with smiles and hugs—something she didn’t get nearly enough of these days.

She turned the key and breathed a sigh of relief as the motor turned over. Care fully, she backed the mower out of the shed and started toward the house. As she passed the front porch, she waved to her father, who didn’t wave back. Maybe he’d fallen asleep. She’d parked his wheelchair in the deepest shade of the porch, and made sure his binoculars and a bottle of ice water with a straw were within easy reach. He was getting better at maneuvering with one hand, though his left side was still mostly useless. At the suggestion of the nurse’s aide, she’d hung a whistle around his neck that he could blow if he needed her. She wasn’t sure if she could hear it over the roar of the mower, but she figured it was worth a try.

The sun beat down like a hundred-watt bulb in an interrogation room. She could feel it burning the top of her head even through her hat. Within five minutes, sweat soaked through her shirt and ran in rivulets to pool between her breasts. Conditioned by years of warnings to avoid the sun in Denver’s thin atmosphere, she’d dressed for this job in jeans and a long-sleeved denim shirt, broad-brimmed hat and hiking boots. She didn’t have to worry about sunburn, but heat stroke might very well do her in.

When she was a teenager, she’d mowed the lawn wearing a bikini top, cutoff shorts and grass-stained Keds. The object was to work on her tan while doing her chores. It didn’t hurt her feelings any when the local boys drove by and honked their horns and whistled as she buzzed the mower along the front fence line.

Come to think of it, the most vocal argument she and her father had ever had happened when she was sixteen and she’d headed for the lake wearing a minuscule crocheted bikini and a see-through gauze cover-up. He’d ordered her to return to the house and put on
real clothes.
His face had
turned an alarming shade of red and he’d literally sputtered when he talked. At the time, Karen had dismissed him as a clueless old man out to ruin her life. She smiled, remembering. As a parent herself now, she understood his concern. And it touched her to remember how much he’d cared, even if only about her appearance.

The heat and the steady roar of the mower lulled her into a stupor. Each pass across the yard showed a broader expanse of neatly cropped grass. If only everything in her life was so easily put in order. Maybe that was the real appeal of the landscaping business to Tom. The results of hard work were almost immediately visible and satisfying.

She finished the front yard in less than an hour and drove the mower around back. There was twice as much area to cover here, including the sloping banks around the pond. She shut the mower off and stared at the expanse of over grown grass, tips burned brown by the sun. The pond sat like a mirage at the far end of the lot, its muddy surface smooth as a piece of slate.

She climbed off the mower and went inside to check on her father and get a drink of water before tackling the rest of the work. Dad was dozing in his chair, shoulders slumped, chin resting on his chest. The electric fan she’d set up near the steps stirred a few strands of his gray hair, and she curled her fingers against her palm to keep from reaching out and brushing it back from his forehead, afraid she might wake him. Instead, she indulged in the luxury of studying him while he was unaware of her presence.

The stroke had aged him, etching new lines on his forehead, deepening the furrows along side his mouth, which still drooped slightly on the left side. The skin beneath his jaw sagged into jowls, freckled with age spots, testament to the years he’d spent in the sun. His nose was straight and prominent as ever, and his high, domed forehead made her think
of the busts of elder states men that ringed the rotunda of the state capital in Austin.

She’d have to see about cutting his hair later today. And maybe a shave, too. She didn’t like to see him looking like some unkempt old man. Though un concerned about keeping up with fashion, he’d always been meticulous about his appearance, and even in the jungle wore pressed khakis and starched shirts.

Funny, that she knew so much about him, even after so many years of scarcely talking. It was as if some part of her had filed away every scrap of information about him, until she’d assembled enough to form this image she’d labeled Father.

Did he know as much about her? Were her characteristics and habits as important to him as those of the hundreds of birds he’d cataloged?

She turned the fan to blow less directly on him, and added ice to his water bottle, then went to complete her mowing.

She was making her first pass by the pond when something exploded up out of the grass, startling her. She squealed and rose half out of her seat, killing the mower engine. A bird flew by her, so near she could hear the rub of feather on feather as it turned to make another pass by her. She had an image of a brownish back and white chest with two black bands. A Killdeer.

As she watched, the bird plum meted to the ground and began dragging itself across the grass, one wing trailing behind it. Horrified, Karen thought it must have somehow been hit by the mower.

Then something she’d read in the field guide her father had given her made her relax a little. Killdeer would feign a broken wing in order to lead predators away from their nest.

A nest! She eased off the mower and took a cautious step
forward. There, behind a clump of weeds, she spotted the shallow, dish-shaped nest. The mother bird tilted her head and studied her with one red-ringed eye. Karen was amazed the bird hadn’t abandoned the nest with the mower bearing down on her, but instead had left it to her mate to defend her.

But then, that was the essence of mother love, wasn’t it—that desperate feeling that you would do anything to keep your young from harm, even exposing yourself to danger for their sake.

Shaken by the thought, she returned to the mower and shoved the gear shift into Reverse. Straining, she pushed the heavy machine away from the nest, waiting until she was some distance away before switching it back on. The rest of the mowing could wait, until she’d made sure there were no other mothers and their young in harm’s way.

Back at the house, she found her father awake. “You…through?” he asked, shifting in his chair.

“Not exactly.” She looked toward the backyard, then at him again. “Can I take you to see something? Something I found near the pond?”

He frowned at her, then nodded. “Okay.” Conversation was limited to one-and two-word answers these days, but it was a step above typing everything on the computer.

It took some maneuvering to get him down the ramp out front ( which Del had finally replaced, after much nagging from her and Mary Elisabeth) and around to the backyard. The wheelchair didn’t roll well over the rough ground and by the time they neared the nest Karen was sweating and panting. She drew as close as she dared, then set the chair’s brake. “It’s a nest. In the grass there. Do you see?” She pointed.

He leaned forward a little, squinting. “Kill…deer.” He shaped the words care fully, halting but clear.

“I almost ran over it with the mower. The male flew up
in my face at the last minute. The female sat there, never even moving.”

“Birds…are…good parents. Most of ’em.” He looked at her, his gaze intent. “Better…than some…People.”

It was the longest sentence he’d uttered in months, and the effort visibly drained him. He sagged in his chair, slumped to one side. She hurried to prop him up, her arms around him, hugging tightly as she swallowed tears. Was he talking about the job he’d done as parent to her? Or her efforts to raise Casey and Matt? Whether confession or acknowledgment, his words touched her. “People do the best they can,” she murmured, her lips against the top of his head, where the pink scalp showed through the thin hair. “We all do the best we can.”

The summer monsoons descended on Denver in mid-July and Tom decided he could afford to take a long weekend away from the business to visit Texas. Karen met him at the Houston airport on a scorching Saturday morning. They embraced at the baggage claim, holding each other tightly for a long moment, until he finally broke apart and looked down at her. “How in the hell do you stand this heat?” he asked.

She laughed, and he joined in. “That’s a fine way to say hello,” she said.

“I’m sorry. You look great. I’ve missed you. How’s that?”

“Better. I’ve missed you, too.” She’d forgotten how tall and broad shouldered and absolutely
masculine
he was. Standing here next to him, her body was re minding her of all the wonderful things he could make her feel, and that it had been seven weeks, six days and twenty-two hours since they’d last made love. If it weren’t for the fact that they’d suffocate in
this heat, she’d have been tempted to drive to some deserted forest road and start ripping his clothes off.

They collected his suitcase and walked to the parking garage. “Where’s Casey?” he asked.

“He’s back at the house with Dad.” She looked up at him, searching his face. “He thinks you’re still mad at him.”

“I’m not exactly thrilled with him, but I’m pretty much over being angry.” He glanced at her. “Wouldn’t do any good, anyway, would it?”

“Let him know you’re glad to see him. It would mean a lot to him.”

“What do you think I’m going to do—yell at him the minute I see him?”

“No. Yes.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I can never be sure how the two of you are going to act around each other.”

“You worry too much. It’ll be all right.” He stowed his suitcase in the back and took the keys from her hand. “How’s your dad?”

“Good. He’s talking in sentences more now. He’s eating better and he’s starting to put on weight. I’m really encouraged.”

“That’s good.” He started the Jeep, then leaned over and studied the dashboard. “How do you turn the air conditioner up in this thing?”

On the drive to the house, Tom filled her in on his progress with various jobs at work, and happenings around the house. Her roses were blooming. Matthew had collected all the paper work he needed to register for the fall semester at Red Rocks. He and Audra were definitely dating again. The car needed the front end aligned. The temporary worker was making progress with the paper work at the office.

Karen sat back and listened, absorbing these petty details of her normal life like a dry tree soaking its roots in a flood. This was what she’d missed most, without even realizing it,
this feeling of being a part of the minutiae of her husband’s and son’s lives. Not knowing the little things that affected them had made her feel too much of an outsider.

At the house, Tom parked the car in the shade and followed her inside. Casey met them at the front door, and took Tom’s suitcase without being asked. “Hey, Dad,” he said. “How was your trip?”

“It was fine.” Tom put his arm around Casey’s shoulder and pulled him close. “How are you doing? You look like you’ve grown another two inches since I saw you last.”

Casey grinned. “Three.”

Karen felt more of the tension ease from her body. All the pieces of her life were slipping back into their familiar grooves once more.

“Who’s this?” Tom asked, directing his attention to Sadie, who inserted her body between Casey and his father, her whole body vibrating.

“This is Sadie.” Casey patted the dog’s head. “Uncle Del gave her to us.”

Tom’s eyes met Karen’s over the top of Casey’s bent head. “I thought you didn’t like dogs.”

She flushed. “I didn’t. I still don’t. But Sa die…Sadie’s okay.”

“She’s a great dog,” Casey said. “And really smart. I taught her to sit and stay and she hasn’t messed in the house once.”

If you didn’t count hair, muddy paw prints and the occasional flea,
Karen thought. Still, the dog had turned out better than she’d anticipated.

The creak of her father’s wheelchair on the hardwood floor announced his arrival. He emerged from the hallway and looked up at his son-in-law. “Tom!”

Tom moved forward to take Martin’s hand. “It’s good to see you. I was sorry to hear about your stroke, but Karen tells me you’re doing well with your rehabilitation.”

“Too…slow,” her father said.

Sara arrived soon after that, then Del and Mary Elisabeth, everyone flocking to greet the newcomer. Some times Karen thought her family liked Tom better than they did her. Then again, it was probably easier to like someone with whom you didn’t share so much history.

The rest of the afternoon disappeared in a rush to prepare food for everyone. She and Mary Elisabeth chopped vegetables, marinated chicken, passed out paper plates and fixed glass after glass of iced tea. Normally she enjoyed playing hostess, but today all she really wanted to do was get Tom alone. They ex changed glances over the heads of the others and she could have sworn she saw the same longing in his eyes.

“While you’re here, I should take you fishing,” Del said in between bites of potato salad. “I know some great spots.”

“Maybe some other time.” Tom smiled at Karen. “I’m only going to be here a few days. I want to spend them with Karen and Casey.”

“Isn’t that sweet?” Sara beamed at them over the rim of her coffee cup. “Karen Anne, what did you ever do to land a man like that?”

“Just lucky, I guess.” What but luck could explain how two people who had hardly known each other when they said vows had stayed together all these years?

Luck, or the power of inertia,
A voice whispered in her head.

Finally, the last of the potato salad was eaten, the last piece of chicken con signed to the refrigerator, the last of the tea poured from the pitcher. “All right, everyone.” Sara stood and gathered up her purse. “Time for us to leave these two alone. I’m sure they’ve had enough of us all interfering with their reunion.”

Karen flushed, but gave her mom a grateful smile. “Don’t
do anything I wouldn’t do,” Del said as he and Mary Elisabeth headed for the door.

“Of course, there isn’t much he wouldn’t do,” Mary Elisabeth added with a wink.

“I’ll help Granddad get ready for bed,” Casey said, taking hold of Martin’s chair.

When they were alone at last, Karen felt as awkward as a girl on her first date. She busied herself tidying up the already clean kitchen. “Everyone was really glad to see you,” she said.

“Not half as glad as I am to see you.” He took a glass from her hand and set it aside, then turned her to face him. “Come here. We have some catching up to do.”

His kiss was urgent, telling her in more than words how much he’d missed her. She clung to him, sinking into the luxury of that kiss, yet wanting so much more.

Scarcely moving apart, they fumbled their way to her bedroom and shut the door behind them. He led her to the bed, already removing his shirt as he moved. She lay back, watching him, grinning. Working outdoors had kept him lean and hard, the kind of man who made any woman look twice. More than once she’d visited a job site and found women admiring him, and had the satisfaction of informing them that he was her husband. “Are you going to do a striptease for me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should get you out of your clothes first.” He knelt on the bed beside her and reached for the top button of her blouse.

She stifled laughter, and glanced nervously toward the wall behind her that separated her bedroom from Casey’s. “We have to be quiet,” she whispered.

“I can be quiet. Can you?” He nuzzled her neck, setting her to giggling again.

She tried to relax as he began working on her blouse once
more, but it was impossible now that she’d reminded herself they weren’t alone in the house.

Tom noticed her tension. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I can’t relax with my dad and Casey just a few rooms over.” She sat up and tugged the quilt from around the pillows. “Come on. I’ve got an idea.”

Quilt in hand, she led him out of the room and across the kitchen floor, tip toeing. Once they were out the back door, she grabbed his hand and started across the yard.

The air was only slightly cooler than it had been that morning, but not as heavy. Dusk bathed everything in silver light and the first stars were already showing against the pale sky. They walked the path around the pond, to the back of the storage shed. “No one can see us here,” she said, spreading the quilt on the ground.

He knelt and pulled her down beside him. “We haven’t made love outside in a long time,” he said.

“We haven’t made love at all in a long time.” She took hold of the unbuttoned halves of his shirt and pushed them back over his shoulders, and kissed the bare skin along his collar bone. He smelled of herbal soap and clean sweat and tasted slightly salty.

He finished undoing her blouse, then helped her out of her pants, strip ping off his own clothes soon after. They came together with heat and urgency, done with waiting. They moved with a confidence born of familiarity, yet with a sense of discovering each other all over again. She de lighted in knowing she could still move him, that he remembered where to touch her to make her pant with need, that he could still bring her to a shuddering climax.

When they were spent, they lay together, wrapped in the quilt, looking up at the stars, a dream like quality to the moment. A Chuck-will’s-widow sounded its mournful call: chuck-will’s-WID-ow! Chuck-will’s-WID-ow!

“Dad’s been teaching me about birds some,” she said, her
head resting on his chest. The steady beat of his heart echoed in her ear and she found herself matching her breathing to his.

“I didn’t think you were interested in that kind of thing.”

“I wasn’t. But it gives us something to talk about. And it is fascinating, in a way. All the different birds and their habits. Plus, they’re beautiful to watch.”

“Yeah. I guess so.” His voice was slurred, that of a man fighting sleep and losing the battle. She snuggled closer and his arms automatically tightened around her. It felt so good to be here with him again. She’d known that seeing each other face-to-face would dissolve the barriers communicating only by phone had thrown up between them. Now that Tom was here, now that he could see Dad’s condition and how much she was needed, he’d understand why she had no choice but to be here for this little while. Soon, everything would be all right again. She’d be home, the business would be running smoothly, the boys would be settled. Everything would be as it should be and it would be almost as if this summer had never happened.

The idea brought a surge of relief. Maybe all the unsettled feelings she had since coming here were merely a product of being away from her familiar routine. Maybe the only thing she really needed to change was her location. Back among the familiar, everything would fall into place again.

It was a com forting thought, and she drifted off to sleep cradled in Tom’s arms, relieved to know this was exactly where she needed to be.

Karen woke Sunday morning with the com forting weight of Tom in bed beside her. She rolled over to face him, smiling, and he opened one eye and looked at her. “So I didn’t dream this last night,” he said.

“No, you didn’t dream it.”

He pulled her close and nuzzled her neck. “And that really was you screaming my name under the stars.”

She giggled as he nipped her earlobe. “That really was me.”

“I think I’m ready for a repeat.” He moved closer, leaving no doubt about how ready he was.

She looked at the clock. It was after eight. “I don’t know if I have time. I don’t usually sleep this late—”

“Sure you have time.” He nudged her legs apart with his knee and slipped his hand beneath the oversize T-shirt that served as her nightgown.

“Dad needs help getting ready in the morning,” she protested.

“It won’t hurt him to wait.” He tugged the T-shirt up to her neck. “I came a thousand miles to see you. You can make a little time for me.”

“Of course I can.” She took a deep breath and focused her attention on him. He was right. A few minutes wouldn’t make any difference.

She pulled off the T-shirt and helped him out of his boxers, then closed her eyes and lost herself in the sensation of his mouth on her throat, her breasts, her stomach….

The bell began ringing just as Tom settled between her legs. “What the hell is that?” he asked.

“Dad. He rings the bell when he wants me.”

She started to sit, but Tom pushed her back. “He can wait.”

“What if he’s fallen or something?”

“He hasn’t fallen. He’ll be okay. Besides, Casey will answer him in a minute.”

“You know how Casey is. He could sleep through a train wreck.”

Tom nudged her thighs farther apart. “Pretend you’re a teenager again, getting away with something right under Daddy’s nose. And I’m the bad boy next door.”

His grin was wickedly sexy, and she managed a weak laugh. She wanted to play along with his fantasy, to forget about worries and responsibilities in his arms, but the insistent ringing of the little brass handbell bored into her brain.

She lay back on the pillows and squeezed her eyes shut, straining to focus on Tom, but the moment was lost. She felt stiff and un comfortable, impatient for him to be done.

She went through the motions of making love, saying the right things and making the right moves, but she’d never thought of herself as an accomplished actress, and she was afraid Tom knew her heart wasn’t in the moment.

When he’d with drawn from her, she sat up and threw back the covers. The bell continued to ring. “I guess I’d better go see what he wants,” she said with a smile of apology.

Tom frowned and turned away.

Her father was upset at having to wait. He grumbled at her and refused to help as she maneuvered him into his chair, combed his hair and brushed his teeth. When she took out clothes for him to wear, he rejected her choices. He folded his arms and ducked his head, anger etched in every line of his face.

Tom found her kneeling in front of the wheelchair, trying to put socks on Martin’s cold feet. The old man kicked at her and swore under his breath. At least, she assumed it was swearing. She couldn’t make out the words but his intent was clear.