A Time to Surrender (22 page)

“It’ll get easier,” he said.

She jumped. “What?”

“Us. It’ll get easier.” He spoke in a low voice. No one else was near them in the hall.

“Huh?”

“Neither one of us wants to go down that road.” He cocked his head.

She nodded, then shook her head. Yes, she agreed. No, neither wanted to go there.

“I came here for two reasons: to check on Amber since they won’t tell you a thing on the phone, and to see you. I didn’t want this to happen at school. There’s nothing between us, all right?”

“Mm-hmm. No.” She looked down at her feet. She needed a pedicure. Those heels she’d worn the other day mussed the polish.

Cade cleared his throat. “Your nurse friend is here.”

Jenna raised her chin and focused beyond his shoulder. “Cathy.”

“Yes. She informed me that you’re family, but I’m not.”

“Is anyone else here?”

“No real family yet. There were some friends, but they’ve gone. You might get in to see her if you want.”

Jenna nodded and moved.

Cade grasped her elbow. “The other way.”

His touch burned her skin. A heat wave engulfed her.

She wanted to fall into his strong arms. She wanted to depend on him. He would take care of everything. Amber’s situation. The hospital staff. Jenna’s classes. A ride to her car or straight home. The loneliness . . .

She knew all those things,
knew
Cade Edmunds could fill every empty space, calm every anxiety.

Was that faith?

Probably not.

God, help.

Jenna said to him, “Thanks.” She moved away. His hand slipped from her arm. She walked. And kept on walking.

She walked toward the nurses’ station. She would find Cathy. She would sit with Amber and talk to her. She would take a cab to her car and drive herself home. She would fix herself dinner. She would make new friends who were in the same swamped military boat as she. She would wait for Kevin to come home.

All of that she
knew
was impossible.

Which could mean, perhaps, if Danny was right, that she had just recognized God speaking to her.

Forty

D
ear.” Indio beamed at Skylar across the tiny table.

Skylar couldn’t help but return the smile. Indio’s endearments always ignited a warmth within her. It didn’t matter that they sat in a fast-food chain restaurant eating a questionable taco. Its fried breaded fish was of undetermined variety, its overly white cabbage of the mechanically shredded sort, done nowhere near the premises nor within the past week.

“Look at this.” Indio held her taco up in both hands, obviously happy to have her cast off.

Skylar had driven her to the doctor’s office. They’d stopped for lunch at this horrid place because Indio declared she hadn’t had good junk food in ages. It was Monday, the day after Sunday, the day after church. A part of Skylar lingered in the twilight zone, unsure what was real and what wasn’t. She probably would have said yes to a request from Indio to fly to the moon.

Indio said, “God is so good. Maybe I broke my wrist just so you and I could meet.”

“How do you do that, Indio? Add an optimistic sidebar to everything?”

“Might as well as not.” She shrugged a shoulder and munched on her taco.

She was a curious sight in her “going to town” outfit of suede-fringed skirt and vest. Her hair in two long, thick braids accented her pudgy face. Skylar had noticed passersby either stared rudely or smiled in delight at her. The latter, she figured, related because they had their own senile weirdo hanging from the family tree.

A quirky appearance meant nothing. Indio was the farthest thing from senile or frail or wacko that Skylar could imagine.

“Anyway,” Indio said, “I was afraid that once my wrist healed, you might think we wouldn’t need you any longer at the hacienda.”

Skylar saw the gleam in those bottomless pools. As she so often did, Indio was talking about more than the obvious, drawing upon a knowledge she gained by who knew what. It was like she had an osmotic relationship with some unseen entity.

Entity? She might as well admit it: Indio was all about God.

A chill went through Skylar. She thought of her knapsack, still packed, still shoved under the bed. Somehow, Indio
knew
. Like Danny. Uncanny the resemblance between grandmother and grandson.

“Skylar, I must confess, I don’t have the energy or interest in doing what I promised Claire I would do to help run the center. I’ve spent most of my life in that kitchen. It’s where I first met my mother-in-law, Lord rest her fractious soul. She reluctantly passed her home on to me. Then I raised my boys there. Then Ben and I turned it into our retreat.” She sighed. “Now I believe that season is over.”

“I can’t promise—”

“Oh, dear heart, I don’t want you to! And I am not laying a responsibility on you. Claire will understand. And as my son says, he knows the staffing business. He can staff the Hideaway kitchen like that.” She snapped her fingers. “No, I just want to say that you have been a godsend in countless ways.”

A too-large bite of tortilla worked its way down Skylar’s throat. “Thank you.”

“Thank
you
.” Indio tilted her head. “Do you mind if I talk straight?”

Skylar stirred a plastic fork through the glob of lardy refried beans on her plate, waiting for her heartbeat to slow. She looked at Indio. “Do you ever not talk straight?”

“You have no idea how much I hold inside.”

Skylar burst into laughter. The woman won. The woman would win every time Skylar dared try matching wits with her. “You play with a stacked hand, Indio.”

Her smile was nothing less than enigmatic. She understood what Skylar meant although Skylar herself did not. At work was that unseen entity for which there were no words.

Indio said, “Yes, indeed I do.”

Skylar knew it was pointless to hope for a sudden drenching of senility to hit Indio and make her forget what she’d been saying. She didn’t bother trying to change the subject.

“As I was saying, Sky—Danny calls you that, doesn’t he? ‘Sky.’ It’s nice. It makes me think of endlessness and timelessness, kind of like God.” She smiled. “But I won’t steal Danny’s nickname. Anyway, you’ve been a breath of fresh air to him and to all of us. We adore you. We hope you’ll stay just because you’re you, not because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to that kitchen.”

“I’ll-I’ll think about it?” Her voice went up. What was with the wavering? She couldn’t stay. She simply could not stay. “M-my schedule isn’t quite set yet. I’ll, um, I’ll let you know?”

“That’s all I can ask. I just wanted you to know what we were all thinking.” She winked. “I took a poll. Even Nathan and Rosie agreed.”

“How come?”
Uh-oh.
Skylar was falling where she didn’t want to go. “I mean, why would they all—I am not a good person, Indio! You must know that.”

Indio reached across the table and patted her hand. “Jesus wiped your slate clean, Skylar, like He did all of ours. You must know that. Now.” She smiled. “Let’s have some of that fried ice cream.”

Skylar pressed her lips together and blinked, gazing about the dining area. At last the garish colors and faux Mexican décor came back into view. Indio had put her through a wringer once again and now it was time for dessert.

“Fried ice cream.” Skylar nodded. “Sure.”

Whatever. Maybe she could remain at the hacienda a few more days.

S
kylar neither unpacked her bag nor put back in the clothes she removed from it to wear day by day. She felt like she had one ruby-red- slippered foot in Kansas and the other on the Yellow Brick Road leading out of town.

Was Fin searching for her? How could he ever track her down? More to the reality of his ability, how long before he tracked her down?

Maybe, though, maybe, maybe,
maybe
he doubted the person he’d seen was, after all, her. There was that chance.

By Thursday evening her equilibrium was, in a word,
off
.

As she poured red cake batter into the last of three round pans, Danny entered the kitchen from the courtyard door.

A reddish puddle formed on the countertop and she cursed softly.

“Oops.” He strode over and slid a finger through the spilled batter she clumsily spooned into the pan. He licked his finger. “Yes. Nana’s recipe, right?”

She didn’t bother to reply. Yes, it was Nana’s recipe. With both hands free, Indio had been spending more time cooking at the hacienda. She was a phenomenal hybrid of Rachael Ray, Paula Deen, Julia Child, and some unknown wise herbalist.

“Sorry, Sky.” He crossed his arms on the counter and leaned on it. “I’m here to help, not to pester.”

“Really? Then you might want to take a hike.”

“Your enthusiasm astounds me.”

She carried one of the cake pans to the wall oven, opened the door, and slid it inside.

“Right behind you.”

She sighed and gave Danny space to put in the other two pans. “Thanks.” She shut the door and set the timer. “I’m sure that’s all the help I need.”

“You haven’t left us.”

Brushing past him, she returned to the counter, picked up the dishcloth, and began cleaning the mess. Maybe if she ignored him, he would get lost.

Obviously she hadn’t left them. Too much unfinished business interfered with her plans, adding too much confusion.

There was no change in Jenna’s friend, Amber.

Claire expected her largest group of guests tomorrow. Even with Indio’s added help, they were scrambling.

Max, Ben, and Tuyen were preoccupied with their upcoming trip.

Lexi wasn’t around much either. After the hike with Nathan last week, she had spent most of her free time with him in the city. Since first meeting the two, Skylar had seen hints of forward strides in their romance.

Erik was just downright fun. But busy. His activity seemed to revolve around filming a documentary. Although no one knew what it was about, he made everyone swear not to mention it to Rosie.

And so Skylar needed to stay. For now. To see what happened with the Beaumonts. To dwell in that space where the echo of Indio’s welcome enveloped her like a fleece blanket.

She lived deeply in each moment, acutely aware of every sight, sound, smell, and texture. Her bedroom felt like a queen’s palace with luxurious towels and sheets and quilt, a full view of her kingdom right outside the door. Every time she entered the kitchen, she thought she must have said, “Open sesame” to have such a treasure at her disposal.

She tucked the moments away for future comfort. The weight they added to the constant expectancy that she was leaving nearly broke her.

“Skylar.”

She jumped at Danny’s voice. He was at her shoulder, taking the dishcloth from her. She realized she was standing completely still, unaware of his presence or the mess on the counter.

He rinsed the cloth in the sink and then wiped the countertop. “Nana thought you might leave after she got her cast off.”

“She told me.”

“Evidently she doesn’t want her kitchen back.” He dried his hands on a towel, inspecting his work. In profile his lashes were long. They curled upward.

She didn’t remember noticing them before.

He turned. Standing very close, he seemed taller than she’d imagined him.

“It’s after ten o’clock, Danny. Why are you here?”

“I know you like the kitchen to yourself late like this, after my folks are usually done for the night.”

She should walk away right now. Go to her room and not come out until the cake was done. He would most likely be gone by then.

But she didn’t want to walk away. Danny brought with him a peace that she realized had been missing all week.

He said, “I wanted to say some things in private.” He stood still, not saying anything.

In the silence and motionlessness, Skylar sensed words and movement. Something was happening, something intangible.

When at last he moved, she was ready to receive the soft kiss he gave her.

“Mm.” He straightened, a tiny smile on his face, and whispered, “That was why I drove forty-five minutes up here tonight.”

Smart retorts about if it was worth the gas money fizzled long before they reached her vocal cords. A smile kept slipping out of place.

Danny pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “I guess I’ll go take a hike now.”

She nodded.

He nodded and backed away. “Uh, take care.”

Again she nodded.

He turned and walked out the door.

Several deep breaths later she heaved an enormous sigh.

That,
that
, was why she hadn’t yet left the Hacienda Hideaway.

Forty-one

J
enna gazed out the window of the fifties-themed diner and saw, not twenty feet away, a man standing at the very end of the Oceanside pier. A fishing pole was propped against the rail beside him. He resembled a dried fig wearing a ball cap. One gnarled hand curled around a knife, the other around a hunk of fleshy bait. As she watched, he skewered a piece of it onto the pole’s hook.

Jenna looked down at her shrimp salad and her stomach turned.

A cute young woman seated across the table clanked her spoon against a water glass. “I’d like to make a toast.” She held up the glass and smiled. “To Jenna.”

As Jenna watched, the seven other cute young women at the rectangular table raised their glasses. “To Jenna!”

“I didn’t do anything,” she protested.

Beside her Miranda smiled. She had sun-kissed light-brown hair and dimples that showed whether she smiled or not. “But you will do something, right? You promised to buy us all lunch.”

Jenna laughed with them. True, lunch was on her.

She wished she could do so much more. Buy them groceries. Take them shopping. Send them to a resort, day care included. Her new sense of semper fi had unleashed a host of maternal emotions toward the younger wives.

The women knew each other. Most of them lived on the base at Camp Pendleton. Miranda at twenty-five was the oldest, but she, too, like the others, looked to be eighteen. Their little kids—a whole slew between them under the age of three—played together.

Their husbands were deployed with Kevin, all members of his squad. As their sergeant, he was their leader. Which meant he was concerned about their wives. Which meant he figured his wife should hang out with them and be an influence on the younger women.