Larkspur Cove (40 page)

“I’m sorry about Joe. I know it must be hard.” The words were without emotion. In truth, I wasn’t sorry – not for Karl, anyway. Not for his pain.
You deserve this. It’s your own fault that you haven’t seen him
in all these years. It’s your own fault for being such a jerk.

He nodded, mistaking the words for genuine sympathy. “I thought there’d be . . . time.”

He looked at me, and for just an instant, I felt his anguish, even though I wanted to be numb to it. I imagined myself in his shoes. What if it had been my parents? Wouldn’t I have the same regrets? Wouldn’t I be right where Karl was, wishing there were more time, wishing we’d had a better relationship? I’d been so busy resenting the things my parents weren’t, that I’d never tried to appreciate them for what they were. I’d been so offended by their advice and their criticism that I’d never even thanked them for standing by me after the divorce, for showing up in Houston with a moving van, for having the lake house cleaned and ready for Dustin and me.

What if suddenly all my chances to say
thank you
or
I love you
were taken away?

Clenching a hand over his face, Karl sobbed softly. He slumped forward, and his elbow hit the horn, causing it to shriek out a loud complaint. I jerked away. Next door, a light turned on in Sydney and Ansley’s room, and across the street, a dog barked. I needed to get Karl out of the driveway. Now.

“Come inside,” I whispered, without taking time to think about what might happen after. If I didn’t do something, one of the neighbors was likely to call the police.

Stepping back as he opened the car door, I tried to find a measure of grace. The man had just lost his father, after all. Joe was gone. In my mind, I could picture Joe sitting on the porch of the old ranch house, his jeans dusty from a day’s work on the family land, his gnarled fingers clasped over the handle of a coffee cup.

Before things went so wrong, we’d spent some wonderful vacations at the ranch, first visiting Karl’s grandparents there, and then his parents after they took over the place and moved back to North Dakota. I still remembered those visits as if they’d happened yesterday. There was
that
bond between Karl and me, if nothing else.

I watched as he pulled the keys from the ignition and exited the car. He was dressed in a golf shirt and shorts, as if he’d come straight from the course. His arms were tan below the sleeves. Obviously, he’d been on the course a lot.
He has money for golf. He has time and
money for golf, but he can’t come to see his own son and send the child-support
checks on time.

I turned toward the house, trying to leave the baggage in the driveway and see Karl only as a man who was grieving. He wasn’t in any shape to be driving right now. Walking slowly past Taz’s truck, I kept my arms wrapped around myself, moving ahead of Karl on the path to the front door, so that our shoulders wouldn’t touch.

Inside the house, we stood in the entryway, uncertain what to do with each other. I couldn’t remember the last civil conversation between us.

“You look like you could use a cup of coffee,” I said quietly.

“Thanks.” He followed me to the kitchen, his feet shuffling over the tile as if he were already burdened by the weight of his father’s casket.

I occupied myself with preparing the coffeepot, while he slid onto a stool. My mind was spinning toward morning, trying to decide if it would be better for Dustin to see Karl and share memories of Grandpa Joe, or if I should make Karl leave before then. “How is your sister?” I asked as he leaned on the counter, waiting for the coffee to brew.

He watched the rich, brown liquid drip into the pot. “Not doing very well, I think. I need to get up there to take care of the funeral arrangements.”

“It’s good that you’re going.” Perhaps, at this point, he could at least salvage the bond with his sister. I couldn’t imagine being estranged from Meg that way. “She loves you, you know.”

He nodded, seeming reluctant to confirm or deny it. We waited in silence for the coffee to brew. Finally I sneaked a cup and handed it to him. “Here, go on into the living room and sit down. I’ll be there in a minute.” I needed a second to clear my head, to decide what to do next, where the conversation should go. Did I ask about Delayne and her girls? Did I act like they didn’t exist? Why wasn’t she with him? Why was he driving across the country by himself in such a state? I nodded at the cup. “Black, right?”

He started toward the living room, tipping his head over the steaming liquid. “Same as always.”

I stood alone in the kitchen after he was gone, watching the mist rise over the boathouse, outlining it in silver. The lights of a houseboat shone in the cove, and I thought of Mart. Where was he now? What was he thinking? Would he ever speak to me again after I’d handled things so badly?

For now, there was Karl’s problem to deal with. At the very least, he should know that Dustin was upset. Karl shouldn’t have blurted out the news of Joe’s death without preparing Dustin. If Karl was here with the intention of talking to Dustin about Grandpa Joe, I wanted to make sure he didn’t say anything negative about Joe or rehash old family wounds as a way of explaining his own stubborn behavior. I wanted Karl to be willing to admit that even if he didn’t agree with his father’s choices, he should have risen above it, that now it was too late and he was sorry. Maybe somewhere during the conversation Karl would realize that if he didn’t start nurturing the bond with his own son, history would repeat itself.

I poured another cup of coffee, added cream and sugar, and proceeded to the living room. When I got there, Karl was sound asleep on the sofa. I stood above him, wondered if I’d ever really known who he was. He seemed such a stranger, his thoughts, his actions, his choices a mystery to me, even yet. How was it possible to have known someone most of your life, to have lived in the same house, and still be strangers?

I considered waking him but finally decided that perhaps it was better that he’d fallen asleep. He wasn’t in any shape to drive, and if we sat there together, I didn’t know what we’d talk about. Everything would be clearer in the morning, and Karl would be in a more rational frame of mind. Dustin always slept in until nine or ten on the weekends unless I woke him, so there would be plenty of time to talk to Karl before Dustin came out of his room.

Throwing an afghan over the man who had been my husband, I stood looking at him again, trying to remember how things used to be between us. Mostly it was the externals of our life that came to mind – the goals we had together, the things we did, the life we built, the house we decorated, the vacations we took, the achievements we coveted, the son we raised. It was as if we had been playing roles with no real emotional investment, never really feeling it. I could count on one hand the times we’d ever had a conversation that went below the surface. We’d been roommates and acquaintances, rather than helpmeets, soul mates, and lovers.

I finally left him there and went to bed, letting sleep soothe my wondering.

In the morning the sun was well up before I awoke. I heard voices in the living room, a woman talking in a loud, angry hiss.

My mother?

Then my father’s voice, then Karl’s.

I was fully awake before my next breath. Throwing on sweats, I rushed up the hall, checking Dustin’s door on the way. So far, whatever was going on, at least he hadn’t become caught up in it.

In the living room I found Karl on the sofa, twisted into an unnatural sitting position, his hair askew, his eyes blinking rapidly, as if he’d just been rudely awakened and was trying to determine if my parents were really there or he was having a nightmare.

Mother whirled toward me when I came into the room, her hand snaking out, a rigid finger pointing toward Karl. “What is
he
doing in
my
house?” Her nostrils flared, indicating that his very presence had polluted the air. Beside her, my father was angry red from the neck up, his lips clamped into a fierce line.

“Mother,” I placated, keeping my voice low.“Ssshhh. Calm down, please. Dustin’s still asleep.” So much for having a rational conversation with Karl. Suddenly everything was a mess. What were my parents doing here?

“I want to know
what is
the meaning of this?” Mother clicked the volume down a notch. “How long has
this
been going on?” She waved a hand from Karl to me in an appalling indication that we were sneaking around in some intimate way. My father nodded, seconding the horrifying insinuation.

“Shhh!” My own forcefulness surprised me. Mother blinked and drew back, offended. “Let’s go out on the porch, all right? There’s nothing to be upset about.”

Karl stood up, and we marched single file through the living room, my father swinging his arms at the front of the line in a territorial gesture reminiscent of King Kong.

On the porch, Mother quickly repeated her demand for information. I explained that Joe had passed away suddenly, and Karl was headed to North Dakota to make funeral arrangements. I left out the part about his arriving here at three in the morning, an emotional wreck.

Mother stood with her mouth hanging open, torn between offering proper condolences and starting a spitting match.

“Dustin is very upset, of course,” I pointed out, attempting to soften her resolve. Joe wouldn’t have liked all the fighting. He had been a gentle, even-tempered man with a big heart, which was how he’d ended up getting dragged into his daughter’s financial mess.

Mother opened her mouth, as if she were about to say something unpleasant, then she clamped it shut again, rethinking. “Well, I suppose it was
decent
of you to come tell Dustin in
person
.” She bit off the end of the sentence.

As much as I hated for them to think the best of Karl, I didn’t contradict her version of the story. Karl cast a grateful, slightly surprised glance my way. Now fully awake, in the bright light of morning, he looked more like himself. Cooler, more aloof, more in control. At this point, he was probably embarrassed about last night.

“Mother, why are you and Daddy here?” I posed the obvious question. Mother’s chin went up immediately, so I quickly added, “Did you need something?”

“We just came to fill the feeders.” She flashed a look that said,
And it’s a good thing we did!
As if she and Dad needed to defend me. “And we’re going to Dallas for the day, shopping. We thought Dustin might want to come along and pick out some things for
his
new school.
” She aimed the last words at Karl, no doubt to point out that not only did Dustin have to adjust to a new school, but
they
had to buy school clothes for him. It was all Karl’s fault for being a fraud, a philanderer, an embezzler, and now an inconsistent check writer when it came to child support.Thank goodness Mother hadn’t noticed the golf tan yet.

“I really appreciate that.” My gratitude was genuine. A grandma and grandpa shopping trip for school clothes would definitely help out. “But I think Dustin had better stay here this morning, so he can have a few minutes with his dad before Karl leaves for North Dakota.”

Mother huffed softly. She and Dad exchanged glances, indicating that it wasn’t safe to leave Dustin and me alone here with the monster who had broken their daughter’s heart and ruined her life. “We need to fill the feeders, at least.”

“Just leave the seed, and I’ll do it.” I caught my mother’s gaze, then my father’s, pleading with them to trust me for once, to believe that I could handle the crisis on my own.

They vacillated for what seemed an impossibly long time, caught between repeating old patterns and taking a leap of faith. Thirty-eight years old, and my parents were still deciding whether I was ready to do grown-up things.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Everything’s fine. Really.”

My father swallowed, his lips trembling. Slipping an arm over my mother’s shoulders, he attempted to turn her toward the door.

Mother stiffened, then emitted a sigh of acquiescence. “Well, at least walk us out, Andrea.”

“Sure,” I said. We exited the porch and crossed the living room, leaving Karl standing on the porch alone, gaping bleary-eyed into the morning mist, like a man who’d just dodged a speeding bus.

On the front walk Mother leaned close, whispering, “Are you certain you’re okay? We can stay. Don’t you let
that man
take advantage of your sympathies. You don’t owe him
one thing.
He doesn’t deserve anything from you.”

She was right, of course. A part of me wanted to bless Karl with the truth of whose fault his situation with his dad really was, and then kick him to the curb. Another part said that if I could dig down deep and extend a measure of grace, even to Karl, I’d be healing myself in some way – proving that his actions didn’t have to dictate my responses. I’d be taking back control.

I stood at the car with my mother and my father, thinking that there was no way I could possibly explain that oddly circular bit of logic. “I’m fine. I really am. I feel sorry for him, having things end up this way with his father. That’s all.”

Mother spat a puff of air as Dad unloaded the birdseed. Rather than just leaving the bag, they made a production of filling the front feeders, and I waited uncomfortably on the walk, anxious for them to depart.

Mother glared toward the house when they’d run out of excuses to stay. “I’d like to tell him what I think of him,” she muttered. Dad nodded in agreement as he shut the trunk and rounded the car to stand with us.