Southern Hearts (19 page)
“Well, shit, I’d need a damned printed program with large bold lettering to keep up with you. Well, that explains why you got so moody that day at the music festival. It must have been upsetting to see her there with another woman. Did you ever find out who she was?”
“It’s her girlfriend.”
“Oh!” Tami said, shocked.
“Yeah. Like I said, it’s a mess. But sometimes things are better left just as they are, whether that’s the way you want it or not.”
“Have you told Mom—about your sexuality?”
“I decided against it,” I said without elaborating. I knew Tami would more than likely think that my decision had been based on our mother’s failing medical condition, and that was fine with me. I couldn’t confide in her about the letter, or tell her that Mother already knew and had probably since I was a child. It was our secret, and as I thought of it again, a smile rose to my lips.
“I wish you would decide to move back home. I’ve missed having you around. I’ve felt like we’ve been growing apart the last few years. We used to be so close when we were younger. What happened to that?” Her voice was low and filled with emotion.
“It was me, Tami. When things started happening with me, when I felt like I was changing, I didn’t know how to deal with that. I panicked and I ran to keep from having to face what was really going on.” I pulled out a chair and sat down next to her.
“I know it’s been hard for you. I always hoped I was the type of sister that you could say anything to and that I would be supportive no matter what.” She struggled with the words. “I guess I haven’t been that type of sister, have I?”
“You’ve been a great sister. There isn’t anyone in this world that I would want to have by my side more than you. I’ve just never been good at expressing myself. It’s always been my downfall. I guess I’m just like Mom in that way. The sentiment is always there, I just need to learn to put my feelings into words. But I’m learning!”
“I guess we all have more of the Southern heritage in us then we consciously realize.” Tami grinned.
“I refuse to wear the floppy hat and boa, but I guess we do.” I laughed.
I crammed as much stuff as I could into my duffel, until the sides were bulging. They were the same shorts and T-shirts I had packed on the way down. I hadn’t added anything to my wardrobe, and the few souvenirs I had bought were now decorating the shelves and bookcases throughout my room. I yanked harshly on the tongue of the zipper until the teeth bowed shut. I was feeling sad about leaving, Tami and Megan each had asked me to stay, and though my mother hadn’t asked in so many words, I knew she wanted me stay too.
From the third riser of the staircase I heaved my bag to the side and flung it down over the banister onto the landing beside the door. My mother was in the den knitting, Tami was just to the right of her reading a book, and Megan sat at my mother’s feet putting one of the many pieces of puzzle that were lined up across the wooden floor into the completed frame.
“What time is the cab coming, Kari?” Tami looked up when she heard my bag fall to the floor.
“He should be here any minute.”
Megan looked up. “Do you have to go, Auntie Kari?” she asked, pulling herself up onto her stockinged knees.
“I wish I didn’t, sweetie, but I have to get back to work,” I said, walking over and leaning down to embrace her. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.” She looked back down at her puzzle.
“Make that a double on the missing you part.” Tami set her book to the side and stood up to hug me, then we both turned to watch our mother as she knitted.
She looked up, her face thin and pale as her eyes turned toward mine. For the first time I could see the hurt in her face, and I knew how much she would miss me. Her expression was revealing, though slight. All the words from her letter flushed over me as I stared into her eyes. The love that I had always wanted to see was pouring over me. I thought of Madeline and I could see the pain of their love that had remained captive in my mother for so many years. I thought of Lani and how I had let her affection slip away from me, just as my mother had. My mother’s eyes scanned over me and as she swallowed, she looked back down and continued her knitting.
I walked to stand before her, looking down at the clutter of different rolls of yarn in her lap, her basket of assorted knitting needles next to her.
“I love you, Mother.” I put my hand on hers, then leaned over to wrap my arm around her neck. I could feel her go limp beneath my touch and her body shook gently as I kissed her on the cheek, then she stiffened and with one hurried sniff pulled her yarn tighter to her and continued with her stitching.
“Have a good trip, chèr,” she said quickly.
Her briskness brought a broad smile to my face. I looked at Tami, who stared at my mother as if surprised by her display of emotion.
“I love you, sis,” Tami said, fighting back the tears.
“I love you too.”
chapter SEVENteen
Every ounce of sunlight vanished behind the gray clouds, and I removed the covering from my Jeep Wrangler just as the rain began to dribble from the sky. There was something about the touch of it to my skin, soft and rejuvenating.
I was glad to be back in Seattle, though as the months wound on, I missed Lani more and more. There had been many moments when I thought of calling, listening to her voice as she answered the phone and then hanging up before a single word could be uttered between us. I just wanted to know that she was all right. But as many times as I had tried, before I ever picked up the receiver to dial, my nerve had deserted me. I didn’t know how I would react in those first moments, whether I would burst into tears or if a hint of anger might creep from me and taint the already marred memories that we had shared. Maybe I wanted things to stay the way they had ended, on an up note with a smile beaming from our lips, no matter how false its appearance.
Raindrops bounced off the windshield. I pulled off of Northlake Way and tucked my car between the narrow lines of a spot in the parking lot near Gas Works Park. I had spent the afternoon feeling sorry for myself, being drowned by the satin percale of my plush comforter and listening to the soulful tunes of Natalie Imbruglia to help douse my sorrow, until my most flamboyant friend, Charlie, had called and invited me to dinner.
I double knotted the laces of my tennis shoes and then sprinted up the Burke-Gilman Trail toward the waterfront. As the day descended into twilight, I jogged past the rusted machinery that sat, scarred by graffiti, along the many pathways that zigzagged the acres of grassland. After cutting through the converted Boiler House, now a concrete picnic shelter, I jumped on the lonely slide in the sandbox of the children’s playground, then turned and looked out at the lights flickering across Lake Union. They were a scatter of color and shape as they shone from every side of me. I was mesmerized as I strolled down to the edge of the water. The shore was ruggedly rocky and crackled under my weight as I stood gazing out at the Ship Canal Bridge, which was still bustling with Friday night traffic. The wind was silent as the rain dotted the lake’s surface in the distance. I stared vacantly out over the water until my knees buckled and I dropped down onto the hard sand, crying.
I could never remember a time when I had been so freely struck by emotion, so easily brought to my knees by tears. But since my trip home, since Lani, every day seemed to be fogged with a sense of unhappiness, and as I thought back, there were more questions and few answers. Yes, it had a lot to do with her, but perhaps more it was centered around me. I was grieving the loss of my mother, even though she was still very much living. I knew that I would one day, perhaps sooner then later, be without her. I would be alone, and that frightened me. I thought of never finding the ideal person—that wonderful woman who would share my dreams and aspirations, the partner who would hold me near when life became too overwhelming—and that scared me even more.
I had good friends, a decent job, and a life here in Seattle that was by most accounts acceptable. But I had realized at the end of September that I wasn’t happy. I wanted more, but I had no clue what that more consisted of.
I made my way back to the parking lot and kicked the sand from the soles of my shoes, then hopped up into the bucket seat of my Jeep. I turned the radio’s volume up until it blared and headed west along the coastline, roaring my way toward Queen Anne. Once there, I threw my car harshly into park and jumped out as the valet held the door slightly open for my exit.
“Welcome to the Melting Pot,” the slender young man said.
“Thank you.” I took hold of the brass door handle and slithered my way through the crowd that was gathered in the foyer, making my way to the hostess’s podium.
“Hello, I’m meeting Miss—” I stopped myself cold. “I’m meeting Mr. Charlie Albright. I’m sure he’s here already; I’m a little late.”
“Yes, right this way,” she directed, leading me to the far wall of the quaint restaurant and into a tiny romantic cubicle in the rear.
“Kari,” Charlie called out, quickly jumping up to greet me.
“Okay, good, it is Charlie today.” I smiled. “I just about told the hostess that I was looking for Miss Charlene TooBright, then I stopped myself.”
Charlene TooBright was Charlie’s splashy feminine alter ego, and on the few occasions when she had been present instead of Charlie, the evenings had been full of crass jokes and outrageously sexy conversation.
“Honey, she is at home getting a steam beauty treatment for her dusty synthetic locks,” he said wildly, cocking his hands over his hips. “Besides which, I never bring Charlene out on Friday nights, you know that. She is strictly a Saturday evening diva.” He smiled brightly.
“You’re nuts.”
“Yeah, and you love every minute of my madness.” He put his hand up to his short hair as if he were flipping the ends.
We ordered the Fiesta Fondue, then turned on the burner that was part of the table’s top and heated the Teflon-coated pan, watching the cheese melt as we talked. Charlie sprinkled the diced squares with seasoning and I picked up my skewer, jabbing it nervously into the table as he asked me about Lani.
“I don’t know what I can tell you.”
“Well, start at the beginning. Hopefully that means sex. And then take it from there, and don’t leave anything out, included the details of your consummation,” he teased.
“We’ve never consummated anything. It’s deeper then that, and it’s hard to explain.”
“I thought you said you finally had your first experience?” He narrowed his eyes in disappointment.
“I did, but not with Lani.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. Details, please!” He arched forward eagerly, leaning his elbows on the table and grinning until every one of his teeth was visible.
I shook my head. “I met another woman too. Her name was Regency. She was doing some work on my mother’s property, and we just sort of...ran into one another.”
“Hmmm, how Harlequin.”
“She was...” I didn’t know what term to use. She had been nice at first, and then the more I got to know her, the less interesting she became. “She was very attractive, and when she came up to the back porch that first afternoon—God, it was like I was instantly wet at the sight of her.” My faced flushed with color.
“Yum!” Charlie grunted.
“We sort of just...had passionate sex, and that was about it.” My voice tapered off as I pulled a crust of bread from the loaf in the basket beside me and stabbed it onto the prong of my fondue fork.
“That’s enough!” Charlie smacked me lightly on the back of the hand. “But I suppose there are people out there who are interested in the other stuff, myself excluded from
that
group. And so, Regency is a sex goddess for whom all of your inner burnings yearn, and Lord knows since she was your first, it must have been quite an inferno.” He laughed loudly. “So who is Miss Lani, then? Sex goddess number two?”
“Lani is the daughter of my mother’s friend, the one she wanted me take around and spend time with while she was visiting.” I stopped, clearing my thought. “I didn’t even like her at first, she was so...I don’t know, different then me. We didn’t even have anything in common.” I took a sip of water, stuffed my dipped bread square into my mouth, and chewed thoughtfully before I continued. “There was just something about her, something that I felt when I was with her. It was like down feathers of a pillow—you put your head on it and it feels so nice. That’s how I feel when I’m around her. I’m intoxicated by her energy and her warmth, and she isn’t even my type.”
“Sweetie, you don’t have a type. You have been out and about in the community for as long as I have known you, and you turn away every good-looking woman who comes your way. It’s unhealthy.” He whipped me a limp-wristed dismissal. “So unless she is minus fingers to touch you with, she is your type. In fact...” He put his index finger up over his lips and rubbed them. “I remember this guy I met in Amsterdam back in the eighties. Both of his hands were clubbed, and my God, how he had a way with those things. I came so many times that night I thought my brain was going to spill from my ears.”
I put my palm in front of his face. “Spare me the highlights.”
“Yum, he was fabulous!” He licked the cheese that had leaked down to the stem of his skewer and growled.
“Okay, I’m eating here, and hearing about men having sex is not quite appetizing dinner conversation for this gal,” I joked.
“So what happened between you and Miss Lani?”
“Nothing happened. I mean, nothing started. First of all, she has a girlfriend.” The word caught uncomfortably in my throat.
“Ooh, and when you told her how you felt, she told you that she wasn’t interested?”
“I never made it that far...I never told her.” It finally dawned on me what a mistake that had been. Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference, but at least she would have known that I cared about her.
“Girl, you need to tell her.” Charlie’s voice changed, shifting from teasing to calm as he spoke.
“I was afraid. I guess I felt more comfortable not knowing how she felt.” That way I couldn’t be rejected. Or maybe I already had. That night in the water, she ran from our kiss and from me as if I were covered in raised dots and contagious. “And she accepted this new job in New York...I didn’t want to complicate things for her.”
“To hell with that! If I found a man that made me feel like that, I’d hop on his shoulders like a backpack—and honey, there would be no gettin’ me off.”
The waiter arrived with our dessert. As Charlie and I spooned the hot chocolate onto the strawberries, jokingly flicking it from the ends of our spoons onto each other’s faces, I thought about what I had done where Lani was concerned and how disappointed I was in myself that I hadn’t been more forthright with her.
