Once in a Blue Moon (15 page)

You should have told her
, he berated himself.

He’d wanted to come clean, and a few times over the course of the evening he almost had. But they had been having such a nice time, it had seemed a shame to spoil it. Then at some point the realization had kicked in that it wasn’t just the evening he didn’t want to spoil.

Nothing about this day, in fact, was going according to plan. He hadn’t intended to ask her out when he’d stopped to see her at her store. But chatting with her, he’d felt an instant connection that had taken him by surprise. She wasn’t the type of woman he was normally attracted to, with her understated prettiness and what seemed an almost purposeful attempt to downplay her looks. Yet there was something about her that had made him want to get to know her better. A feeling that had only deepened over the course of the evening. He’d quickly discovered that Lindsay Bishop, aside from being smart and well read, possessed a unique talent: She listened. Not like the women he’d dated in the past—the polite show of someone busy formulating a response that would showcase her in some way, demonstrate how sensitive and caring she was. Lindsay listened in the deeply attentive way of someone taking in every word, those big, solemn eyes of hers fixed on him all the while as if he were the only person in the room.

Like when he’d been telling her about his mom. Any discussion of Alzheimer’s, he’d found, generally had people squirming in discomfort and rushing to change the subject. But she’d seemed not the least bit uncomfortable with the topic, her quiet focus acting on him like a sedative, calming the anxiety he felt at knowing the worst was yet to come. Nor had she stepped in with platitudes or attempted to relate to what he was going through by dredging up some tale about a friend of a friend’s cousin who was in similar straits. She’d waited until he was finished before saying gently, “It’s hard to watch a parent go. Believe me, I know. At times it’s all you can think about—the fact that they aren’t going to be around much longer. But it helps to remember the good times, too. Once you get into the habit of it, you start seeing them for who they really are, not just as an old, sick person you’re terrified of losing.” It was the best piece of advice he’d gotten so far—the
only
advice that hadn’t made him want to chuck some well-meaning but totally misguided person out a window.

With her he hadn’t just been Randall Craig, Wall Street wunderkind turned best-selling author, but son of Barbara Craig and repository of worries as well as story ideas. Maybe because she’d known tragedy of her own. He thought of the old expression
Still waters run deep
. Lindsay Bishop was the stillest person he’d ever met.

Not that the evening had been a somber one, by any means. They’d laughed over some shared observation just as often as commiserated over some tale of woe. They’d discovered that they had a number of favorite authors in common, even obscure ones most people wouldn’t have heard of. She’d told him about her adopted mother’s love of music and treasured collection of LPs ranging from Enrico Caruso to the Bee Gees, and he’d confessed to being a vinyl guy himself—a throwback in this digital age. And they’d both agreed that anyone who claimed to have heard the rumored Satanic message on the Beatles’ White Album played backward was either delusional or a liar.

Had he only known her less than twenty-four hours? It seemed longer than that.

So why didn’t you tell her?
The most important aspect of his life where Lindsay was concerned, and he hadn’t had the guts to be up front about it. Suddenly the withholding of that information seemed more than just an attempt to portray himself in the most flattering light, like the careful editing of his bio: He was a cheat, a fraud. He’d encouraged her to open up to him, all the while knowing she’d want nothing more to do with him were she to learn the real truth about Randall Craig.

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

A
LL HER LIFE
Kerrie Ann had relied on her wits to get by. Like the time a trucker with whom she’d hitched a ride had tried to fondle her and she’d escaped by flashing her breasts and kicking him in the groin while he was ogling them. And the time the cops had shown up at a friend’s house where she was doing drugs, and she’d escaped through the back while they were busting open the front door. But there were some situations quick thinking couldn’t get her out of. Like when her little girl had been taken from her. And the latest: Kerrie Ann had just learned that the Bartholds had put in a formal request to adopt Bella.

At first she was stunned, then outraged.
Who the fuck do they think they are?
But her outrage quickly gave way to panic. She knew
exactly
who the Bartholds were: an upstanding professional couple with a nice house in a leafy suburb who just happened to be black—as was her daughter. What if the judge decided that what was best for Bella was to be with her own people, not some flaky white chick?

The thought was like a knife twisting in her belly.

“Do I look okay?” she asked Ollie. It was Sunday, two and a half weeks after she’d moved in with her sister, and he was driving her to Oakview, a suburb of San Luis Obispo, to see her daughter—a four-and-a-half-hour trip. One she’d been making from LA every other week for the past six months but which today had her as nervous as if she were on her way to an audience with the pope. From now on, her every move would be even more carefully scrutinized, she knew. It was no longer just a matter of when she could get her daughter back but
if
she would be getting her back at all.

“You look fine,” Ollie assured her.

“You’re not just saying that?”

“You’re kidding, right?” He took his eyes off the road long enough to shoot her a look of naked incredulity. “You? You’re, like, an eleven out of ten. How could you possibly look bad?”

He’d missed the point entirely, but she smiled nonetheless. She couldn’t keep from smiling when she was around Ollie. When she looked into those big brown teddy-bear eyes, it was hard to hang on to the belief that the world was a shitty place full of bad people out to get her.

“Thanks,” she said. “And not just for the vote of confidence. I’m sure you must have better things to do on a Sunday than drive me to Oakview.”

“Like what?” he replied without missing a beat.

“Like, I don’t know, watch the Lakers beat the crap out of the Warriors?”

He snorted. “In your dreams, sister. The Warriors’ll wipe the court with those bums.”

“Oh, yeah? What makes you so sure?”

“I have one word for you—Baron Davis. That’s all I’m gonna say. Game over.”

“That’s two words. And you still haven’t answered my question,” she said, staring at him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“You mean would I rather spend the day with you or hang around the house waiting for my mom to find some chore for me to do? Gee, that’s a tough call.” Ollie stroked his chin, adopting a look of deep contemplation as he steered the Willys one-handed around a slow-moving truck.

Kerrie Ann laughed in spite of herself. She was still nervous about what she’d find when they got to Oakview—would Bella be happy to see her, like always, or would the Bartholds have turned her head with a lot of talk about the wonderful life she’d have with her new mommy and daddy?—but she didn’t feel as tense as when they’d started out.

“You like living with your folks?” she asked him.

“Sure,” he said, then sighed. “I know—kiss of death, right? Guys my age who are still living at home have about as much chance of scoring with a chick as Quasimodo. Believe me, I’d love nothing more than to have my own place, but they depend on me, you know? My dad’s got arthritis, so he needs help with stuff he used to be able to do himself. Which means I have to be up, like, way early to help him offload the catch and put away the nets before I leave for work. I do my baking at night, so that doesn’t leave much time for stuff like, say, a
life
.”

“What about your brothers and sisters—can’t they help?”

“They do what they can, but they all have lives of their own. I’m the youngest, which means I’m stuck. It was either take care of
numero uno
, knowing my parents would have to struggle on their own, or do the right thing. I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I left them in the lurch. Which is why, at the advanced age of twenty-four, I still live with my folks.” He looked over at her and added with a rueful laugh, “Pitiful, huh?”

“I think it’s nice.” Though admittedly there had been a time in her life when a grown man living with his folks would have had less chance of getting into her pants than a guy with a prison record. “Anyway, I’m hardly one to talk. Look at me—I’m living with my sister, and I don’t even know how much help I am. Sometimes I get the feeling I’m doing more harm than good.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Ollie said.

“Oh? What about the other night?” Kerrie Ann reminded him. “All I had to do was babysit a bunch of book-club ladies for a couple of hours, and I couldn’t even manage that.”

“Don’t forget I was there, too. And how were we supposed to know one of them was a shoplifter?”

True, none of those women had looked remotely suspicious. They ranged in age from late twenties to early seventies, but they all appeared respectable and trustworthy, the kind of people you wouldn’t think twice about turning your back on in a roomful of merchandise. And yet when she’d done just that, one of them had filched eighty bucks’ worth of books. Worse, since no one was owning up to the crime, there was no recourse. After talking to some of the other ladies, she’d pegged the newest club member as the culprit—a young woman who’d arrived carrying an enormous handbag and who’d ducked out before the meeting was over, muttering an excuse about needing to relieve her child’s babysitter—but without proof, there was nothing that could be done about it.

“Yeah, well, somebody’s still gonna have to pay for it, and unless they catch the thief, that person will be my sister.” Kerrie Ann sighed as she stared out the window at the landscape gliding past—they were passing through King City, along a stretch of highway lined with shopping malls, warehouses, and discount outlets—recalling the look of resignation on Lindsay’s face, one that said,
I shouldn’t have expected more from you
, which was worse than if she’d gotten pissed. “Let’s face it, if I was getting paid for this job, I’d have been fired by now.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Ollie said. “You’re still learning the ropes, and that takes time. The important thing is you’re trying.”

“With my sister, I get the feeling that isn’t good enough.” Or, more to the point, that
she
wasn’t good enough.

“She’ll come around. I know her. It’s just that change is hard for her, and this is a big one.”

“Like it’s so easy for me?” Kerrie Ann shot back with an obstinate tilt of her chin.

What she didn’t say was that in many ways she loved her new life. Her sister’s was the first real home she’d known. She’d even grown to appreciate the peace and quiet of country life, which had almost driven her up a wall her first week living there. And work, when she wasn’t messing up, felt like a real job, not just punching a time clock. She only wished she didn’t feel as if she were walking around on eggshells with her sister.

Yesterday, for instance, they had been getting dressed for work when she’d noticed Lindsay surreptitiously checking her out. Finally it grew unnerving, and she confronted her sister. “What? Do I have a stain on my skirt, a zit on my chin? Am I missing a button?”

Lindsay feigned innocence. “Did I say anything?”

“You didn’t have to. It’s the way you’re always looking at me. Like you’d be embarrassed to be seen in public with me or something.”

“That’s silly. Why would I be embarrassed to be seen with you?” Lindsay ducked her head to button her blouse, but not before Kerrie Ann caught the telltale redness in her cheeks.
Busted
, she thought.

“Maybe because you think I dress like a tramp?”

Lindsay slowly brought her head up, and this time her eyes met Kerrie Ann’s in a level gaze. “I don’t think that. Though I
do
wonder why someone as pretty as you feels the need to show off. You don’t have to, you know. Men would still look at you if you weren’t wearing clothes that gave them X-ray vision.” Pointedly she eyed the tight top and miniskirt Kerrie Ann was wearing.

It was Kerrie Ann’s turn to blush. She refused to look away, though, because it would have been like admitting defeat. She went on staring at Lindsay in defiance until finally it was Lindsay who looked away. But her sister’s words had hit a nerve. She found herself recalling when, at fourteen, she had blossomed overnight from a skinny, flat-chested kid into a fully loaded woman—how amazing it had felt to suddenly be noticed after years of being either ignored or treated like dirt. It had given her a sense of power she’d never before had, one that she could use to her advantage with the opposite sex. And, like a teenager learning to drive, she had sometimes driven too fast.

Getting dressed this morning, she’d been conscious of the image she wanted to make. Bella’s caseworker would be monitoring today’s visit, as usual, and it was more important than ever that she not get any black marks on her report. So instead of reaching automatically for the clothes she felt most comfortable in, ones that made a bold statement in a world where she’d otherwise be fine print, she’d selected her outfit carefully, choosing a pair of midrise moleskin jeans and long-sleeved jersey top, suede ankle boots instead of her favorite kick-ass cowboy boots. The only jewelry she had on were the studs in her ears and the necklace Jeremiah had given her, which she never took off. Looking in the mirror, she’d hardly recognized herself. In her conservative (for her) attire, with the pink streaks in her hair fading and a touch of lipstick and mascara her only makeup, she’d felt as panicky as if she were standing on a high perch looking down.
Who are you?
she’d thought.

Now she looked over at Ollie and thought,
I’m still me
. With Ollie, at least. He was the one person besides Miss Honi who saw the real Kerrie Ann underneath it all. “I suppose I should be happy my sister didn’t think
I
was the one who stole those books,” she said.

Ollie flicked her a surprised look. “Why would she think that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve been accused of worse.”

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever been accused of?” He looked intrigued.

“You know how most kids, if they get kicked out of school, it’s for cheating on a test or copying somebody else’s paper? Well, with me it was for screwing a boy in the janitor’s closet during lunch break.” She paused to gauge his reaction, but his expression didn’t change—maybe he wasn’t so innocent after all. “We would’ve gotten away with it except the janitor opened the closet just as the principal happened to be walking by. Talk about busted.”

She’d expected Ollie to be scandalized, but he only laughed. “That’s nothing,” he said. “My junior year, me and my buddies got caught breaking into a house.”

“Seriously?” Kerrie Ann couldn’t imagine Ollie involved in anything criminal.

“It was actually a cabin out in the woods near Bonny Doon. It looked like nobody had used it in a while because it was all boarded up. Anyway, we thought it’d be the perfect place to party. Except the party turned out to be us and a couple of scary dudes with guns. Turned out the reason the cabin was boarded up was because they were using it as a meth lab. Which was lucky in a way because it wasn’t like they were gonna call the cops on us.”

“You didn’t call the cops on them?”

“We didn’t have to. Somebody else ratted them out before we could.”

“Wow.” She eyed him in amazement. “Who would have guessed you had such a dark past?”

“Why, because I don’t seem the type?”

“Actually, no.”

“Just how
do
you see me?” Ollie gave her a peculiar look as he braked to a stop at a red light. Just ahead was a white pickup pulling a horse trailer. She could see the horse’s rear end through the slatted tailgate, its tail switching back and forth in a lazy, contented rhythm.

“I think you’re sweet,” she said.

“‘Sweet,’” he echoed in disgust, “is about the worst thing you can say to a guy. Right up there with ‘I see you more as a friend’ and ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’”

She laughed. “Trust me, it’s a compliment.” She couldn’t say any more than that without leading him on.

Would that be such a bad thing?

Kerrie Ann pushed the thought from her mind. She closed her eyes and thought of Bella instead. Would her daughter be excited to see her? She’d been shy the last time they’d spoken over the phone, but when Kerrie Ann remembered how happy her daughter was whenever she came to visit and how Bella clung to her when it was time to go, she felt a little less anxious. She couldn’t wait to tell her daughter the good news about her new house and job and the fact that she now had an aunt and a—Kerrie Ann wasn’t quite sure how to bill Miss Honi, but she’d think of something when the time came—which meant that when Bella finally came home, it would be to a
real
home.