Things I Want to Say (36 page)

“In!” Martin commanded. His voice was much stronger now, though he still favored one-or two-word sentences, the minimum number of words to make himself understood.

Karen entered and dragged a chair around to sit in front of him. “We need to talk,” she said.

He looked at her, eyes alert, like a crow waiting to snatch the fragments of a picnic lunch. She smoothed her palms down her thighs. “When you had your stroke, and Mom asked me to come look after you, I didn’t want to at first.”

He nodded, expression un changing, as if this information wasn’t new or surprising.

“But then I thought, I should do it. Because…because you’re my dad and…and because I thought this might be our last chance to really get to know each other.” She looked at him, silently pleading with him to help her out here. Meet her halfway. “You were gone so much when I
was growing up. And even when you were home, I—I never felt like I was very important to you.” Her voice broke on the last words, and she choked back a sob.
Oh God, please don’t let me break down.

She snatched a tissue from the box on the desk and blew her nose loudly, then took a deep breath, determined to get through this. “You were the one person I most wanted to love me. To
like
me. But I never felt that. So I thought, this is our second chance. But now that I’m here—all these weeks…” She shook her head. “Has it made any difference at all?”

He looked away from her, down at his lap, his expression as unreadable as ever. Her spirits sank and she bit her lip to keep from crying out, drawing blood, which tasted like the tears she refused to shed. They were a pair, weren’t they? Crippled by reticence, hearts encased in protective shells that distanced them from everyone else, even each other.

His hand trembled as he reached for her, but his grasp was surprisingly strong. “I’m…sorry,” he said, his voice gruff. “I…care. Took…for granted…that you knew.” He squeezed harder. “I don’t know how…to say things…right.” He shrugged, and met her gaze, his eyes glossy with tears. “This is how…I am…too old…to change.”

“I know.” She leaned forward to embrace him, the strength of his arm around her conveying as much as his words. “I just had to hear it. Once.” She patted his back, and rested her head on his shoulder, his bones feeling fragile as a bird’s against her cheek. “It’s all right now.”

She’d wanted more, but would take what she could get. He was probably right, that he was too old to change. But was she? Was she too old to find away to break this family curse that held her feelings hostage behind brittle walls?

After a long moment, Martin pushed away. He picked
up his binoculars from the desk and rolled his chair to the picture window. He raised the glasses to his eyes and scanned the scene outside, looking for birds.

Looking away from her. Always looking away.

The intense exchange with Karen left Martin drained. He retired to his room and lay down, pondering the rare moment of intimacy with his off spring. He was filled with the same feeling of privilege and elation he had when he had seen a rare bird. Karen was like a bird in that respect—he had moments when he felt he truly saw her and understood her, but these moments were all too fleeting.

As the air-conditioning hummed against the late-afternoon heat, he drifted to sleep, and dreamed of the jungle. The air was thick and heavy in his lungs, his vision obscured by tangled vines and leaning tree trunks. A bird darted past, and his heart pounded as he recognized the chunky silhouette of the Brown-chested Barbet.

He took a step forward to follow, and found himself falling through the air. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound emerged. No one would know when he died here, alone.

But as the ground rushed toward him, he was suddenly caught, as if at the end of a string, and he began to rise again, soaring under his own power. He was flying! He had no wings, only his arms extended in the manner of a child playing airplane. Yet miraculously, he was held upright, floating on a current of warm air. Exhilarated, he searched for the Barbet and spotted it ahead. It seemed almost to be waiting for him, hovering in the air. He zoomed after it, coming so close he could see the feathers lying along its back like scales. Then it raced ahead.

Effortlessly, he pursued it, swooping and gliding, laughing out loud with joy. He had never felt so weight less. So free. Warm air blew his hair back from his face and pressed his clothes against his body. His fingertips brushed the velvet petals of orchids, and he breathed deeply of their rich perfume. A pair of long-tailed Capuchin monkeys eyed him curiously from their perches in the trees.

The Barbet flew ahead, always just out of reach. Martin followed, not caring where they ended up, de lighting in the moment. Why had he never done this before?

The Barbet landed on the end of a branch and began to preen, thick beak ruffling its wing feathers. Martin slowed, and readied for a landing beside the bird, instinctively knowing how to bank and aim for the branch. He stretched out his legs, ready to make contact, some small part of his brain wondering if the narrow limb would really support his weight.

He woke with a start, eyes opened wide to the sun streaming through his bedroom window. He shut them again, willing the dream world to return, but the orange glow of sunlight against his closed eyelids told him sleep had escaped him. He spread his arms, remembering the feel of flight, but his left side remained leaden and unresponsive.

Tears of frustration spilled from beneath his closed eyelids and rolled down his cheeks, wetting the pillow. After the freedom of flight, he felt imprisoned in his damaged body, bereft as a child who has lost the only source of happiness in his world.

Casey decided he’d better try to make it up to his mom for coming home drunk the other day, so he offered to finish mowing the backyard.

“You can’t,” she said. “There’s a Killdeer sitting on a nest near the pond.”

“Not anymore. Grandpa and I checked it out the other day. The babies are grown and flew away.”

“Already?” She checked the calendar. “It’s only been two weeks.”

He shrugged. “I guess that’s all it takes with birds.” He slipped on his sunglasses. “Anyway, think I’ll go mow.”

“Be careful. It looks like a storm is coming up.”

He glanced out the window. The sky did look dark in the distance. “I’ll have time to finish before it gets bad,” he said.

“Okay.” She looked a little dazed. Maybe she was shocked he’d volunteer to do a chore. So maybe he wasn’t that crazy about work—who was? That didn’t mean he couldn’t do it when he needed to.

He was filling the gas tank on the mower when Mary Elisabeth wandered over from Uncle Del’s trailer. “Hey,” she said, stopping beside the mower.

“Hey yourself.” He grinned at her. She was wearing Daisy Dukes and a sleeve less denim shirt that tied under her breasts. The ring in her navel glittered in the sunlight. “What’s up?”

“I heard about your fishing trip,” she said.

He flushed. “Yeah, Mom’s pissed at Uncle Del. Nothing new about that, I guess.”

“Smart people do dumb things sometimes.”

“Yeah.” He set the gas can aside and screwed the cap back on the mower. “I told her Uncle Del didn’t mean any harm.”

She poked him in the shoulder. “I’m not talking about Del, I’m talking about you.”

He stared at her. “You think I’m smart?”

Her smile could have melted chocolate. “Of course you’re smart. I bet you make As in school.”

He made a face. “You’d lose that bet. I hate school.”

“Why? Because it’s boring?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Just suck it up and get through it.” She shrugged. “You have to do that sometimes.”

“I don’t see why. I mean, why not do what makes you happy, as long as you’re not hurting anybody?” He figured she could understand that philosophy.

“But sometimes you end up hurting yourself.” Her expression was serious now. If not for the whole short-shorts and navel ring thing, she might have looked like somebody’s mom. “If you don’t finish school, how are you going to support yourself? And what if you meet someone and want to get married and have a family? Then you’ll need to support them.”

“Whoa. I’m not thinking about sup porting anybody right now. I can deal with that when the time comes.” What was it with women? Did they all have this mom-thing inside their brains? Something tripped a switch and this perfect mom-speech came out? It was wild.

“The choices you make do affect your future,” she said. “Realizing that is part of growing up.”

Was she saying she didn’t think he was grown-up? He stared at the ground between his feet. “I guess sometimes it’s more fun to stay a kid.”

“Yeah, we all feel that way sometimes.”

She nudged his shoulder again, the smile back in place, and he relaxed a little. “Do you feel that way?” he asked.

“Oh, sure. I bet even your mom feels that way every once in a while.”

“Mom? No way. She was born grown-up.”

She laughed. “No, I bet she sometimes thinks of ditching all the responsibility and just doing what she wants for a change.”

This idea was both frightening and intriguing. His mom, a free spirit? He shook his head. “If that’s the way she feels, why doesn’t she?”

She leaned against the mower and crossed her arms under her breasts. “Maybe because it’s too scary. Or maybe because she loves you all too much not to keep looking after you.”

He fiddled with the gear shift knob on the mower. “Mom’s not one for a lot of mushy talk. I mean, I know she cares about us, she just doesn’t say it all the time. Not like some women. I have this one friend, Joe—his mom hugs and kisses him and tells him she loves him every time he leaves the house. Like he’s going to forget or something.” He shuddered. “I always feel kind of embarrassed for him.”

“Some people are more expressive than others,” Mary Elisabeth said. “It doesn’t mean they love any more, they just like to talk about it, I guess.”

“If something’s the truth, I don’t think you have to keep saying it.”

“Yeah, but you should say it every once in a while, just to remind yourself.”

He fiddled with the gear shift some more, watching her through half-closed eyes. He got the feeling something was on her mind. “So did you just feel like giving me a bunch of advice today?”

“No, silly.” She looked at him sideways, almost shyly. “Actually, I came to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” His heart hammered in his chest. “Are you going away?”

“Yeah. My sister in California invited me to come out and stay with her for a while. I think I’m going to do it.”

“What about Del?”

“Oh, he’ll be all right. A man like him never goes long without a woman around.”

The casualness of her attitude bothered him. He’d thought she really cared about his uncle. “Aren’t you going to miss him?” Wasn’t Del going to miss
her?
“Sometimes. We had fun.” She straightened. “But I’m not ready to get serious about someone right now. And he isn’t, either, which I guess is why things worked for us. Maybe I’ll hook up with a surfer dude in California.”

Too bad Casey wasn’t a surfer. And about ten years older.

“So what about you?” she asked. “Are you going back to Denver soon?”

“At the end of the summer, I guess.” He looked toward the house. “Grandpa’s doing better.”

“He is. I’m glad. He’s an interesting guy.”

“I guess he is.” He glanced at her. “Most people are interesting, if you get to know them a little.”

“I like the way you think.” She brushed off her shorts. “I guess I’d better be going. I told my sister I’d leave in the morning and I still have packing to do.”

“Thanks for stopping by.” He wiped his hand on his jeans and offered it to her. “Have a good trip.”

“You, too.” She took his hand and held it in both of hers. “Remember, you can get through anything if you have to. Even boring school.”

“Yeah.” Though he still wasn’t so sure about that.

She surprised him then, by tugging him toward her and stretching up to kiss his cheek. Then she was gone, walking across the yard without looking back.

He put his hand to his face, still feeling the soft brush of her lips against his skin, her flowery perfume filling his
nostrils. He felt warm all over, and as if his feet might not be touching the ground.

Wow.

Karen watched Casey and Mary Elisabeth out the kitchen window. The young woman had already stopped by the house and said her goodbyes. Karen wondered how Casey would take the news of her leaving. She was pretty sure her son had a crush on his uncle’s girlfriend. What teenage boy wouldn’t? Mary Elisabeth looked like a
Playboy
center fold come to life.

Karen was surprised by how much she was going to miss the younger woman. Mary Elisabeth was the kind of person who calmed the atmosphere just by being in a room. Dad was less argumentative when she was around, and even Del could be pleasant under the influence of his younger girlfriend.

She envied Mary Elisabeth, too, for going off on her own, the way Karen never had the courage to do. She’d had big dreams of traveling and making her way in the world, but in the end she’d stayed right here in Tipton after graduation, leaving only when Tom had provided the opportunity.

Now here she was, her children almost grown, her husband angry with her for not giving more of herself to him, her brother disgusted with her because she’d made the mistake of thinking life should be neat and orderly and people’s reactions predictable.

She had done one thing right, at least. She and Dad understood each other now. No, he hadn’t been the perfect child hood father she’d wanted, but neither had he been the horrible one her selective memory sometimes made him out to be. He’d done the best he could with what he had in him. Something she’d tried to do for her boys, too.

She left the kitchen and wandered down the hall to
Martin’s study. She was surprised to find him, not at the computer as she’d expected, but at the window.

“Storm coming,” he said. Every day his speech was clearer, though he was still unable to use his left limbs.