Home to Harmony (18 page)

Sometimes he was glad. Other times, he felt like a rabbit in a dog’s mouth—shaken, hurting and exhausted.

He hoped he’d been useful to her, too. She seemed more relaxed, less anxious, more centered and confident, and less overbearing with David since he’d entered her life.

They’d be together just six more weeks. Christine would go and he’d leave Harmony House soon after. He hated to think about saying goodbye to her, but at least he had plenty to occupy himself after she was gone. That afternoon, he’d met with Carlos to go over the grant applications Marcus was submitting, thanks to some advice from Elizabeth.

He’d managed a meeting with Winston Barlow and a rural health grant from the state of Arizona was in the works. He’d also talked with a few colleagues in L.A. His fund-raising mission helped break the ice. He could see that returning to L.A. would not be difficult.

Elizabeth had recommended some face-to-face meetings with key people. She’d sounded calm, self-possessed, back in charge of her life. They did not speak one word about their divorce or Nathan or even Lady. Probably for the best. It struck him in the end how little lasting impact they’d had on each other.

Marcus caught up with Christine as the fireworks were about to start. People were seated in lawn chairs in the front yard, eating the Harmony watermelons and goat-milk ice cream.

“Great party, Christine,” he said, standing close, but not close enough to raise eyebrows.

“I know.” She smiled at him, her eyes shining with pride. “You and David sounded great. Thank you so much.”

“It was my pleasure.” They were still staring at each other when the first Roman candle streaked the sky, bursting into a blossom of gold and green light.

The crowd exclaimed its awe, faces faintly lit by the glow. He couldn’t take his eyes off Christine as she reacted to each burst of fire. She meant so much to him. Simply seeing her made him smile. He felt good around her, better than he’d felt in longer than he could remember.

Looking into the color-brightened sky, he had to admit the truth to himself: He’d fallen in love with her.

When she turned to him, lips parted, face expectant, he almost said so. But what good would that do? Ultimately what could he offer her? Not enough. Not even close.

“What is it?” she asked him.

“I’m just enjoying the fireworks,” he said.

The flash and crack of a rocket made Christine look up. A ball of blue stars burst into the sky. Watching its reflection in her eyes, Marcus realized it was true what Christine had said about him. He was in. All in.

She pushed out of his arms. “Are you okay?” He’d looked at her strangely during the fireworks, too.

“I’m happy to hold you,” he said, kissing her with the heat she expected. Desire wound around and through them, a hot ribbon binding them tight. Their hands moved on each other’s bodies in the now-familiar dance, touching skin, pressing muscle and bone, sparking a need that built and built and built.

Once in bed, Marcus entered her like a deep sweet breath. Oh, how she loved this. Marcus was fire and calm. Exactly what she’d always needed, but never found—or even known to look for. They moved together, climbing toward release. Marcus looked at her with such tenderness she wanted to cry.

He made her feel so cared for, important, almost vital to him. He listened to her, calmed and steadied her, helped her see her own strengths more clearly.

This thing between them was supposed to be simple—meet each other’s physical needs and enjoy a friendly intimacy—but it had become far more than that. Too much more. And in six weeks, it would all be over.

Marcus stopped moving. “What is it?” He’d noticed her distraction. The man never missed a twitch or a sigh.

Don’t ruin this,
she warned herself. “Nothing. Just don’t stop, okay?” She locked her heels onto his backside to show him she meant business.

A few minutes later, after their personal fireworks had burst open, hot and bright, inside her body, as wonderful as ever, Christine knew she had to tell Marcus the truth. She braced herself on an elbow, lying on her side facing him, as he mirrored her position.

“Here’s what it is, Marcus,” she said. “I’m in love with you.” She felt like crying. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be. It just happened. It got complicated.”

Marcus laughed. “That’s a hell of a thing—to be
sorry
to be in love.” He leaned close and kissed her, keeping his lips close when he spoke. “I’m in love with you, too.”

“So, you’re saying it’s a good thing?”

“I wish to hell I knew.” His eyes brimmed with the same mixed feelings she was having.

“I want it to be.” Maybe she knew what she was doing this time. She was so tired of being scared and lonely, of guarding her heart from another stupid mistake. Maybe Marcus was sturdy enough to put up with her. “I don’t know how we’d be together. I could be too much for you.”

“Oh, you already are.” He smiled.

“I’m serious.” She searched his face.

“So am I.” He linked fingers with her and kissed the back of her hand. “I want this, Christine. I want to be with you.”

“So maybe we’ll be all right,” she said. He loved her and she loved him back. Why couldn’t this work? She felt strangely light and hopeful and excited.

And something else, something new. It came to her in a burst, like fireworks in the sky: She felt
happy.

She made him smile. He’d been so lonely here without having one person who understood him. Delia gave him hope. He needed hope because he dreaded seeing Brigitte again in Phoenix. Delia was like cool medicine on that burning sadness.

A bunch of kids, including Delia, were going to Preston tomorrow for a music festival. The twins had an extra ticket for him they wanted to trade for some of Bogie’s bud. No way, he’d told them. He’d pay with the money from his gig.

They thought he was joking when he told them they were too obsessed with weed. The truth was that he hardly smoked at all anymore. He no longer wanted to throw away the hours. Besides, weed sent him into sad and paranoid thoughts about Brigitte, which did not help one bit. Marcus was right about keeping busy.

At the moment he was sweating like a fiend, since he’d had to run out to the far garden to ask his mom for his pay.

He had a ride to town with Mitch if he hurried. He had to buy some blank CDs to make a copy of an album Delia said she liked and he wanted to give it to her on the way to Preston.

His mother was annoyed about the rush, but she told him to go ahead and take the emergency fifty she kept in her address book. Sometimes she did get him. And she
had
thought up the gig idea, which he was pretty happy about.

There was a door between his room and hers, so he used it to get into her room. It was the saddest, silliest-looking room in Harmony House. It made him feel kind of sorry for her as a kid stuck in this weird, fake-princess space.

She’d been going to fix it up but Aurora said to leave their living quarters alone for the time being. Instead of being mad, his mother had actually laughed. Bizarre. She’d been acting bizarre in general, all happy and cheerful for no real reason. But, whatever, she wasn’t hassling him that much and that was fine with him.

He found her address book on the bureau. He flipped it open. She said
in the flap,
but which one? The front flap had receipts, so he flipped to the back of the book. No cash. Just a pink message slip that said
Skip
in black Sharpie.

Skip? His father? Adrenaline slammed through David like an electrocution. He saw there were two phone numbers and an address in San Diego.

His father had called? The message was dated in April—a month before they’d left Phoenix. That made no sense. Christine had told him she didn’t know where his father was.

David’s blood roared in his ears. He had his father’s number in his hand. He could call him. Right now.

First, the money. He found a clear plastic pocket and saw the folded-up fifty inside. He took it, then headed for the kitchen, the message slip trembling in his fingers, his stomach a hot ball of nerves.

He dialed the area code, his heart in his throat, glad no one was around to overhear. What would he say?
Hey, Dad. Long time no see. What’s up?
What if his father didn’t want to talk to him?

But he’d called, hadn’t he? And left a message. It had to be David he wanted to reach, not Christine, who hated him. He dialed again. One…six…one…nine…

He slammed the receiver. He needed to plan his words first. This was too important to blurt whatever was in his head. Plus, he had to catch a ride with Mitch.

Okay, he figured it out. He’d take his cell phone with him and get the twins to drive him to the highway so he could call his dad on his cell phone in privacy.

He folded the message slip into a small square and tucked it into his pocket. What had happened was
huge.
His father had called to talk to him, but Christine had refused to let him. How could she? When she knew how much this meant to David?

Outrage boiled in him, higher and hotter every second. How dare she do this to him? Deny him his own dad? He was so mad he wanted to hit something. Maybe even her.

Marcus’s tips for anger popped into his head.
Walk away from the situation. Take five slow breaths, in and out. Match the speed of your thoughts to your breaths, slow, slow, slow. If you need a physical release strike an object that won’t break or hurt you
.

Okay,
David told himself,
do this right.
He took the breaths, slowed his thoughts. Gradually, his fury eased. The main thing was he would get to talk to his dad soon. He would get to know him, plan a visit. He had the key to the biggest mystery of his life in his right pocket. He patted the spot. It was all good.

An hour later, David left the twins in the car listening to tunes at a rest stop while he sat at a picnic bench where he had a solid signal. He clicked in the digits, his breathing jerky in his ears.
Please be there. Please.

“Yeah?” An impatient male voice answered on the first ring.

“
He-e-ello?
Hi, um, is this Skip Scanlon?”

“Who is calling?”

He closed his eyes and blurted, “David. Your son, David.”

“David?” There was a long pause. “David. God. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Fine. I’m good.” Relief rushed through him like wind. His father sounded shocked but glad. “How are you?”

“I’m good.” There was a pause. “It’s great you called.”

“I just found your number. I didn’t know how to reach you.”

“I left the deets with Chris. Actually, I was in Phoenix the first of May and wanted to maybe hook up with you, but Chris never called back. I figured you weren’t interested.”

“
Sure
I’m interested.” He wanted to scream in frustration and disappointment. “I would have wanted to see you. Definitely.”

“That’s good to hear, David. Very good. So how are you? You sound so grown up. You’re…what? Four teen now?”

“Fifteen and a half. I’ll be a junior.”

“That’s great. Wow. You know, the last time I saw you, you were, what, five? You probably don’t remember me much.”

“Yes, I do. I remember everything. We played hide-and-seek and shot Nerf arrows and ate cookies for breakfast.”

“We did? I guess so.” He laughed. “I bet you’re tall now.”

“Kind of. Five foot seven, I think.”

“I need a photo of you.” He probably carried a sad, cracked preschool shot in his wallet. Christine was so mean she probably hadn’t sent him any school pictures ever. The thought made David’s throat hurt so much he was afraid he couldn’t speak.

“I bet the girls are all over you,” his dad said.

“Not really. No. I mean, I had a girlfriend. And we broke up. But there’s this other girl I like.” He felt his scalp heat. “I wish I could have seen you when you came to Phoenix.”

“We can get together, no problem. My schedule’s hectic, but we can work it out. We’ll do that one of these days.”

“That’d be great,” he said, feeling hot all over, happy and lonely and sad at once. He was afraid he’d start bawling like a baby.

The line went dead for an instant. “Can you hold on? I’m expecting an important call.”

“Sure.” David was actually relieved for the break. It was almost too much to have his actual father on the line, happy to hear from him, wanting to see him.

There was so much he wanted to tell him—about his music, about who he was, what he wanted in life, about Brigitte. It was all bottled up inside, dying to burst out in a flood of words.

“You still there?” his father asked a few seconds later.

“Sure.” Did he think he’d hang up?

“That was the guy and I gotta jet. Give me your number and I’ll call you back tonight maybe.”

“I’ll have to call you. We’re at Harmony House for the summer, out in the boondocks with no cell reception.”

“Oh, okay.
You
call
me
then when you can. We’ll catch up.”

“Yeah.” There was so much to catch up on. Years and years.

“’Bye, son. It feels good to say that…
son.
”

“Yeah, it does. It feels—” But the phone went dead before David could say it felt good to say
Dad,
too.

It didn’t matter. It was all good. He was so proud he’d made the call. He felt stronger, bigger, whole, like he fully existed in the world for the first time in his life.

Back in the car, he told the twins what his dad had said and by the time they got back to town, David was mad again at his mother. He’d spent years afraid his father didn’t even
want
him, especially after all the crap Christine had told him.

Instead, the guy had called and called and Christine had said no-no-no, while David begged her to look for his dad. Christine knew where he was all along.
All along.

By the time the twins dropped him off, he was full-on, red-brained furious. He wanted to scream at Christine, shake her, hit her even. That scared him a little.

He tried the anger process a couple times, but this was too much, too awful. He needed help. He needed Marcus. Marcus would walk him through the bad stuff. He would be on David’s side against Christine, too. Maybe he’d even tell her off.

He’d told David that his father should be in his life. Well, not exactly. More like that it was confusing to not have contact with a parent. Then some B.S. about the risk of investing too much energy on imagined perfection or whatever.

Marcus could be full of it at times. And he never said what he thought, always turned it around to David.

He scanned the yard, the garden, the animal barn, looking for the guy. Then he spotted his tall form at the far pump under the mesquite trees. He was filling up a bucket.

Christine was there, too, dammit.

David started walking that way, then noticed the way they were laughing. Too friendly, almost like they were—
no,
not that. To his shock, Christine leaned in and kissed Marcus on the mouth. Worse, Marcus pulled her into his arms and kissed her back.

David felt glued to the spot, electrified into stone. His mother and Marcus were…together. That meant sex, too. They’d hidden this from him. Scammed him. Marcus probably told his mother everything David said and the two of them laughed at David behind his back.

He felt like he had to puke. He’d been betrayed, lied to. First about his dad. Then about Marcus. Marcus had lied, too. That hurt worse. Marcus had been his friend.
His.
Not Christine’s. Nothing was his. Nothing and no one.

Even worse, Lady was lying in the shade beside the two of them. Even the dog had abandoned him. Before they could see him, David spun away and headed for his room, sick with hurt.

Except, as he ran, a golden idea came into his mind. He had his dad. His father would understand this betrayal more than anyone, since Christine had betrayed him, too. His dad
wanted
to see him. Anytime, he’d said. Anytime. So how about now? After the lies Christine had told him, it would serve her right if David went to live in San Diego, which was a great place. He’d learn to surf and fish, water-ski, maybe sail. David had a ride into Preston tomorrow with the twins. Did he have enough cash for the bus fare from there?

It was a possibility, at least. Just thinking about it eased his agony a bit, enough to keep him from smashing his hand into a wall, his head through a window. For now anyway.