Between Us Girls (20 page)

Out of nowhere Keagan appeared beside her. He spoke in a dead calm voice. “You'll be moving along now, boys. You won't be returning.”

Without a word or backward glance, they scurried off.

Those boys never returned. Not a trace of graffiti ever appeared on her wall or the gate or the light pole or the dumpster. The neighbors' properties remained clean.

Those events cemented Keagan's role at the Casa. Liv hadn't asked for
it, but she didn't mind. He wasn't obnoxious about it, and honestly, who wouldn't want an angel nearby? Or, as Inez called him, a knight? A little Clint Eastwood never hurt either.

On second thought, maybe she
had
asked for it. She'd complained enough about the Syd-shaped hole in her life, that male presence that complemented her role as a single female apartment manager. Voilà. Sean Keagan showed up on her doorstep one spring day.

Angel or not, he had earned the right to speak things she did not want to hear.

The stars flickered, above and below. Waves kissed the beach. Quiet beauty danced around her and eventually, slowly, it seeped inside.

She let go of his arm. She'd show him who had one foot in the grave. “Okay. Do you want to hear my side of the story?”

“Only if it might help.”

“I'm scared, Sean.” She seldom called him by his first name. He tolerated it from her, although she had the impression it carried sad memories for him. Still, at times like now, she desperately needed a son-type intimate more than an angel or a knight.

They walked several steps in silence.

Finally he said, “Of course you're scared. You experienced a lot of pain and a brush with death.”

Silence built between them.

“Is there more?”

“No.” She fidgeted. “Yes. What it's really about is losing control. About depending on others for the simple basics of preparing food and cleaning my home and walking across the courtyard and pulling my weeds. It's about feeling like God is so far away. So very, very far away.”

He touched her elbow, steered her around, and they headed back toward the parking lot.

“Well,” he said, “what can I say? Life is difficult.”

“Yeah, and it stinks too.”

He laughed. “At times.”

Liv did not. “That's all you have for me?”

“Yes, Mama Liv, that's all either one of us has. Life is difficult and at times it stinks.”

Thirty-Two

Jasmyn sat on a retaining wall. Below her feet lay mounds of boulders that protected a section of shoreline beneath the pier. The tide was low, leaving a stretch of beach and exposing barnacle-covered pilings. A steady stream of joggers and walkers paraded past her. Out in the water, surfers paddled toward the horizon, rode waves, were tossed off their board, and then started the process all over.

Filling in for Liv as a manager was coming easy for her. Even organizing last night's potluck—nowhere near her forte—had been a breeze. Of course, she knew how to serve people in a restaurant, but she had never ever entertained at home in her entire life. Having Quinn over for tuna-and-noodle casserole did not count.

But she wanted to express family support for Liv. She posed the WWLD question to herself. What she had seen Liv do was gather the residents together. The day Jasmyn first arrived, the annual Labor Day picnic was in progress, and Liv had been absolutely radiant. It was easy to see how much she adored her Casa family, how much it meant to have them all together.

And so Jasmyn decided to go way outside her comfort zone. Everyone had jumped on board at her suggestion, offering food and drink, promising to help set up and clean up. They obviously thought the world of Liv.

Reflecting on the evening, Jasmyn saw that the only downside was that the guest of honor had not exactly rallied for the occasion. There was no radiance or adoration coming from her. In fact, she'd even gone
home early. Apparently, Jasmyn's efforts fell short of what Liv expected or wanted.

Maybe she wasn't cut out for managing an apartment complex. Not that it mattered. She would be leaving before too long.

“Don't worry about it.”

Jasmyn jumped at the low voice in her ear and turned, coming almost nose to nose with Keagan.

He sat down, swung his legs over the wall, and faced the ocean. His profile revealed its usual deadpan expression.

She suspected he felt at least smidgens of emotion. After all, he had reached out for help from her, a stranger, because of his concern for Liv. He had even come to the potluck, a rare thing, according to Piper, for Liv's sake. And he had gone to the trouble of tracking down her luggage and retrieving it from his police friend, a kind gesture toward her.

But that set jaw of his and the dark sunglasses still threw her for a loop. She wasn't sure how to respond to him. Angel and knight talk were out of her realm.

If he were a customer at her table in the Flying Pig, she'd figure him for a drifter and a loner. He'd order the daily special—hold the sauce—and leave at least twenty percent. They would not make small talk because he would have his sunglasses off and he'd be looking at her with those intense peacock-blue eyes—more unnerving than the sunglasses—and her natural flow of small talk would dry up on the spot.

Then he would rev up his motorcycle, and within sixty seconds Valley Oaks would be a speck in his rearview mirror.

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“The potluck.” He glanced at her and shrugged. “About Liv. It was a good party.”

She stared at him, speechless.

“She didn't respond well. That's not your fault.”

“Did I look like I was worried?”

“A little.”

“I guess my timing was off. She wasn't ready to be cheered up.”

“Liv is…how shall I put it? Independent to a fault sometimes. It's hard for fiercely independent people to have heart attacks and depend on others to cheer them up.”

Jasmyn sighed. “Should I not even try?”

“Only if you resent her for it.”

She looked at him. “Oh! I would never do that.”

Beneath his sunglasses, his nose twitched and then his lips moved, quick as a flutter.

“Don't laugh. Really, I wouldn't.”

He turned toward her. “I know you wouldn't, not on purpose. I wasn't laughing at you.” He paused, as if he had something else to say, but the moment passed and he faced the ocean again.

Jasmyn studied his profile. He had a nice nose, slender and not overly long. He could have done with a shave. His hair hadn't seemed to grow one iota since they'd met almost two months ago. Maybe he shaved his head more often than his jaw. As usual, he wore athletic shoes, blue jeans, and a dark T-shirt—navy today—with faded lettering across the front,
Seaside Village Gym
, the name of the place he co-owned.

Why was she so silly about him? He wasn't scary. A little different maybe, a little odd, but thoughtful nonetheless.

His nose twitched again.

“So what are you laughing at?”

He didn't answer for a moment. At last he replied, “Your naïveté. Sorry. It's refreshing. Bottom line, Jasmyn Albright, you're doing a good job. Believe in yourself.”

Naïveté? Refreshing? Good job? Believe in herself? Well…she had nothing to say.

They sat in silence. And after a while, the silence became comfortable.

Thirty-Three

From the passenger seat in Sam's car, Jasmyn watched the scenery zip by along the two-lane highway. Except for distant mountains, it was curiously similar to Illinois country: wide open, full of trees, rolling hills, cows and horses, little traffic.

She was so excited about her first visit to the desert that she could hardly sit still or stop jabbering about every tree they passed. “Sorry. I'm a little bouncy.”

Sam glanced over, the scenery reflected in her sunglasses. “A little? That ‘what would Liv do' business is nowhere in sight.”

Jasmyn thought she heard teasing in her friend's tone, but she should probably give up trying to read Samantha Whitley. The only thing she understood for sure was that Sam most often resembled the big Jeep they rode in: dark, moody, and full of attitude, her interior concealed by tinted windows.

“You mean Liv wouldn't be excited about going to the desert with you?”

“She wouldn't be going in the first place.” Sam scrunched her lips together and muttered under her breath, “Probably because I wouldn't invite her.”

Jasmyn didn't bother to ask why. Sam was the most private person she had ever met. Jasmyn doubted she would invite anyone except maybe Chad. She hadn't exactly asked Jasmyn. “See, there's the difference between Liv and me. I didn't wait for an invitation. I barged my way in.” She raised her voice to a falsetto. “ ‘Sam! For real? You're going to the desert? I've never,
ever
been to a desert!' Hint, hint.”

Sam smiled at her, a full-on, un-Sam-like smile. “No problem, as long as you don't need me to play tour guide. Besides, you needed a day off. You've been playing Liv for two weeks straight. Which, by the way, you do really well.”

“I'm not so sure. I could keep the courtyard and laundry room clean in my sleep. The ‘mama' part totally escapes me.”

“You throw a pretty mean potluck, though. Very Mama Liv style.”

Jasmyn felt her face blush. “I was so far outside my comfort zone.”

“Really? You seemed like a natural, being all social butterflyish.”

She laughed. “I guess it's similar to waitressing. But at the restaurant I'm only responsible for putting food on the table, not asking people to come to my place and then making sure they're comfortable. That's what Liv does so well. That's her ‘mama' persona.”

“Okay, no ‘Mama Jasmyn' nickname. But honestly, the Casa would have fallen apart by now without you.”

Two compliments from Sam? Quinn would tell Jasmyn to shut up and accept them. “Thanks.”

“It's true. You're not Liv, but you are you and that's what we needed. Like a ray of sunshine. Hey, that fits your name, doesn't it? All bright.”

Jasmyn groaned.

“You've been told that before.”

“Once or twice.”

Sam chuckled as she slowed the car and turned off the pavement onto a narrow dirt path.

They drove for several moments, up a hill, winding around boulders and low-lying bushes. The Jeep easily rumbled over rocks and crevices.

She braked and turned off the car. “Follow me.”

The instant Jasmyn stepped outside, a sudden quiet hit her. It was physical enough to feel like hands clapping over her ears, deafening her.

She scrambled behind Sam on blond-colored dirt strewn with rock up a steep incline. Ahead she could only see its rim and above it the bluest of blue skies. She caught up to Sam at the top, saw beyond the rim, and gasped.

“Welcome to the desert, Jasmyn Albright.”

The vista before them seemed larger than even the ocean. It stretched on and on and on. It was bigger than enormous. There were mountains in the distance painted in reds and browns and purples…boulders of all
shapes and sizes scattered about like confetti…plants in gray-greens and browns, small and low to the ground. The highway looped like a thread in and out, behind and through it all.

Jasmyn exhaled. “Oh my gosh. I thought it would be…I don't know. Dull. I never imagined…” How could she have imagined? The desert was too vast and too beautiful for words.

“Next March this will be a carpet of flowers. The scents, unbelievable.”

“Can we come?”

Sam chuckled. “Jasmyn, you can drive yourself here anytime you want. You saw how short and easy the route is.”

“I could, couldn't I? I'll bring Liv. The ride would do her good. Maybe Tasha and her mom. Inez would enjoy it. Oh, Sam, thank you for showing this to me.”

“You're welcome.”

They stood for a while longer. Sam seemed to soak it in as much as Jasmyn did.

Jasmyn remembered how Sam had agreed the city felt confining, like a straitjacket. She wondered then why Sam didn't leave it more often. And if her home in Arizona was anything like this, why wouldn't she go back there, at least for visits.

Which begged the question, if Jasmyn also thought the city felt like a straitjacket, why would she dread going back to Valley Oaks and her beloved green fields?

She was dreading it.

But who needed to wonder about that right now? She was in the
desert
.

“Hey,” Jasmyn said. “I thought you weren't going to play tour guide.”

“I'm not. It begins and ends here. I just wanted you to see this.” She pressed her lips together. She appeared to be having an emotional moment.