Between Us Girls (18 page)

Liv lowered her head and blinked rapidly until the tears stopped pooling. Jasmyn had a calendar. It had garden scenes and hung on her kitchen wall. It made things seem almost established, although of course they weren't. Jasmyn needed the calendar to keep Liv's appointments straight. The girl only stayed because, first of all, Keagan probably scared her into it. Secondly, she loved the beach. And last, she didn't have anything better to do.

For the moment.

For which Liv was grateful because, if not for Jasmyn's companionship, she feared that—well, she wasn't sure what she feared. The doctor said she was fine. She knew better. Something was off. Her emotions ran amok. She couldn't get a handle on herself.

She blamed the medical procedures. They had put that
thing
inside her body, that
stent
. Blood flowed freely now, going full speed. What else could her heart do but push out one extreme emotion after another, good and bad?

Jasmyn said, “It's October, but the weather is the same as when I first got here in August.”

Liv shifted in the lounge chair, trying to get an internal grip. “Well, there are subtle differences. Look at the morning sunlight hitting the fountain.”

“Okay.”

“Squint. What do you see?”

“Morning sunlight hitting the fountain.”

“Notice, though, it's at an angle. It comes in low between those palms, from the south-southeast. It was completely different just a couple of weeks ago.”

“That's how you can tell it's October and not August?”

“Nor September. There's a nip in the air too.”

“Nip? Liv, it'll be seventy-two degrees by noon. I swim in the ocean most days. Chad says I need a wetsuit, but I'm not cold.”

“You still have a Midwestern thermostat. It'll change.”

“How do the pumpkins know it's time to ripen? Tasha went on a field trip to the pumpkin patch and she brought home a nice plump one.”

“You should ask Beau. He's the brainiac.”

“Brainiac, electrician, plumber, mechanic, gardener. Whew! Aren't you glad you convinced him to put in more hours?” Jasmyn's dimples creased deeply.

Liv smiled, but it was a small, tight effort.

That was another thing. After all her years of independent decision making, she noted others' opinions. Suddenly Keagan's Clint-like gaze and Samantha's arguments about living smarter nagged at her. Jasmyn researched every medical question and talked to the doctors as much as Liv did. Piper, Chadwick, and Inez implored her to give up what they called her one-woman show. Noah voiced adamant opinions about everything under the sun. Even little Tasha clapped when she saw Beau in the courtyard two days in a row.

They all swayed Liv's decisions about business and about everyday things. Everyday things like tea.

She sipped from the cup Jasmyn had brought her, some sugar-free, dairy-free, caffeine-free concoction. She held back a grimace. “Hmm. Something new added?”

“Stevia. Piper brought it over. It's a sweet herb. And we put in some almond milk too. What do you think?”

“It's not half bad.”

“How bad is it?”

“Seven-eighths.”

Jasmyn laughed. “We'll play with it.”

“I bet I could walk to Jitters today.”

“That's about two blocks.” Jasmyn paused, her lower lip puckered.

Liv had seen the expression often in recent weeks. Jasmyn was weighing the consequences of the idea.

Liv sighed inwardly. They all meant well. Still…

At last Jasmyn said, “Okay. Two blocks is a reasonable goal.”

“One small latte sounds reasonable too.”

“As long as it's decaf, fat-free milk, no sugar.”

“How about half a glazed donut?”

“Liv!”

“A fourth. Two bites of a plain one.”

“Don't you want to get better?”

She opened her mouth, but closed it before something stupid came out like
I have my moments.

Jasmyn patted her hand and stood. “Of course you want to get better. It just takes time and a lot of hard work. I have to call Quinn. Inez said she'll be out to visit in a bit. And remember, the ladies from church are bringing lunch.” She smiled and walked off to the office.

That was another thing. They all took turns babysitting her.

Lord…

Liv shut her eyes. She really didn't have anything to say to anybody.

Twenty-Nine

Seated behind Liv's desk, Jasmyn surveyed her domain. Behind the computer monitor was a round crystal vase filled with flowers she had picked that morning: alyssum, daisies, a white rose, and a fern. The sunshine, with its peculiar October slant, came through the back window in the kitchenette area and touched her shoulder.

She wasn't sure how she had gotten to this place in life, but it seemed strangely natural. Liv and Keagan acted as if they just assumed she would step into the manager's role. Once, while still in the hospital, Liv had said,
Jasmyn, dear, would you mind organizing the mail and checking on Coco? And Tobi probably needs an extra cuddle or two.

One thing led to another. No one else indicated they wanted to do it or that Jasmyn was a poor choice. Of course, they all had lives to continue, whereas Jasmyn didn't exactly have another life.

And so there she sat, Temporary Manager of the Casa de Vida.

She might not be perfectly tuned in to Liv's way of seeing and doing life, but she couldn't be happier trying. It gave her a purpose for staying in California, at least for three more weeks. She had just rebooked her flight home.

Not caring to dwell on that schedule, she turned her attention to the computer. Managing the complex was easy-peasy. Automatic online rent deposits and bill paying required little beyond getting Liv into the office and at the computer now and then. Beau Jenner—a delightful guy about Jasmyn's age—came daily now and made his own maintenance lists.

The Casa was a well-oiled machine. Technically speaking, it could go
on without Liv for a while. But heart speaking? Well, that was a different matter. And that was her biggest challenge, filling in the other.

The
other
…Such a small word, but it encompassed everything else which was, really, the essence of Olivia McAlister.

Not that Liv had asked Jasmyn to consider such things, but that acronym Sam created had grabbed hold of her imagination and would not let go. WWLD. Keagan had called it a woman thing. Jasmyn called it complicated.

There was Liv's mothering influence on most of the residents. How could Jasmyn, a childless thirtysomething, mimic that? Little Tasha was not a problem, of course, but wild Chad? Confident Piper? Cool Sam? And
Keagan
? Yeah, right.

Then there were Liv's relationships with countless others, from the mail carrier to the trash collectors to the baristas down at Jitters to vendors at the farmers market to street people. Some of them recognized Jasmyn and asked about Liv. Already she was giving medical updates to virtual strangers.

But the toughest of all was following in the footsteps of Liv's prayer life.

Jasmyn tried. She still felt like a flake and a fake, although she was getting pretty good with the gratitude. Who wouldn't, considering her situation: a wonderful home in a hobbit-like garden with an instant community of likable folks?

She thought of blessing people late at night, not in the moment. She didn't know if that still counted. And the bit about asking for things from the One who created the ocean? That remained far, far fetched.

But, as Sam would say, she was not Liv. She was Jasmyn Albright. She might mimic Liv, but it would be in her own way, which had always been a little backward.

She hoped it was enough.

“Hey.”

Jasmyn looked up from the desk where she was sorting the mail and saw Keagan in the open office doorway. “Hey, yourself,” she said.

“I have a surprise for you.”

Jasmyn blinked a couple of times, unsure what to reply. In recent
weeks, he would appear as he had at the airport and in the alley, out of nowhere, quiet as a mouse. He would ask about Liv, Casa matters, how Jasmyn was doing. Sometimes she imagined she heard a wink or a smile in his voice, though his face never outwardly expressed such things.

The guy was a little bit disturbing and a little bit comforting with no space in between the two.

“I don't like surprises.”

He stared at her for a moment. The slanted sunlight caught in his eyes, making the unique blue-green color sparkle. “I imagine you don't. I apologize.”

She shrugged. The tornado had been the biggie of surprises. Before that it had been her grandfather's volatile anger, her grandmother's sharp and embarrassing tongue, her mother's illness at such a young age. The car theft.

“I could go an entire lifetime without another surprise.”

“This is a good one, though.” He ducked outside and immediately returned, a suitcase in his hand.

A large, grape-purple suitcase.

Keagan set it down, pulled up its handle, and wheeled it around the desk to where she sat. “Good surprise?”

She gasped. “How— What—? Oh my gosh!”

“The police found your rental in a parking garage. Your luggage was still in the trunk, apparently not touched.”

She leaned over, unzipped a front pocket, reached inside, and pulled out her purse. “They didn't take my purse?” She unzipped the big yellow-and-orange handbag she had splurged on for the trip. Her wallet and cell phone were nestled in their special pockets. She gasped again.

She laid the suitcase down and knelt. It felt heavy, as if everything she had packed so many weeks ago must still be in it. She unzipped the top and lifted it. Beneath were neat piles of clothing strapped in. Her clothing. Her jeans. Her tops. Her pajamas. Her sweater. Her cosmetic bag. Her shoes.

“Oh, Keagan. It's all here.” She looked up. “How did you get this?”

“A friend.”

“A friend?”

He tilted his head, obviously done explaining.

“How can I thank him? Or her?”

“Already taken care of.”

Jasmyn looked again at the luggage before her. Never in a million years would she have thought she would see her things again. Not that there was anything special in the suitcase or her purse. Just everyday necessities that had been replaced easily enough. Still, it felt like a treasure.

“Keagan, thank you.” She stood.

He wasn't there.

She hurried out the office door and scanned the courtyard.

He was nowhere to be seen.

Typical Keagan. He wouldn't hang around for a thank-you.

She wondered what sort of thank-you would mean something to him. Cookies? Cake? Liv would know.

Jasmyn turned to go back into the office and spotted her door. Like all twelve cottages, it was painted its own unique color. Hers was purple. Of course she knew that. Purple being a particular favorite of hers, she had seen that right away. What she hadn't noted until that very moment was its shade of purple. It was not lavender. Not violet. Not orchid.

Nope. It was grape. Deep, luscious dark grape, a Concord variety ready to be plucked off the vine. It was an exact match to her luggage.

What a curious coincidence.

Even more curious was the rush of sweet contentment flowing through her now, as if matching door and luggage mattered.

Jasmyn shook her head. This was like having a conversation with Liv.

Honestly, filling in for the woman was affecting her in really, really strange ways.

Thirty

Sam did not mean to eavesdrop, but given the proximity of Jasmyn and Liv, it could not be helped. She stood at the counter; they sat at Jasmyn's kitchen table within arm's reach. Their voices carried above others who filled the living room, balancing dinner plates on their laps and having their own conversations.