The Jewel Box (39 page)

“I’m not as bold as you about putting all my cash into business gambles.”

“Haven’t you listened to that tape on Risk I recorded for you?”

“Yessssssss. . . I’m still a coward though. And I have lots going on in my life.”

“You’ll always have lots going on.” Beau stared into my eyes. “Don’t leave this life with regrets, baby.”

“I won’t. I’m just trying to make up for lost time with Nikki.”

“Don’t worry about her childhood.” He read my mind. “Nikki turned out exceptionally well and you should be proud. Damn proud!”

“She’s been the highlight of my erratic life whilst I created problems in her I assumed only years of therapy might correct. In her younger years, I overheard her tell a friend, “Sometimes my mom and I get confused on the mother/daughter, authoritarian/apprentice role.”

Beau chuckled. “Nikki always was a cerebral kid.”

“Yes. And an even smarter adult,” I bragged.

Sitting there with Beau, I felt thankful Nikki and I had finally developed a healthy relationship. Only took twenty-four years. “Do you have any regrets, Beau?”

“Just wished I’d saved more money. Otherwise I’m content. After Celeste and I divorced, I spent a lot of money on several gold diggers. Especially Lola. You’d have thought I knew better, but there’s no fool like an old fool. Still, Gilles grew into adulthood better than my highest expectation, and I’m so proud of him. Beau’s eyes misted. “Celeste and I put him through medical school, but she allowed him to live underfoot for twelve years. You’ve seen him so you can imagine her grocery bill.” Beau beamed.

“He’s the spitting image of what you must’ve looked liked in your youth.”

Beau nodded his head, proudly. “Know what I dream about almost every night, baby?”

“Opening a restaurant or nightclub,” I answered with a smile, thinking how often he revealed those dreams to me.

“Yep.” His eyes brightened. “Sometimes it’s a gigantic dance club, sometimes it’s a tiny neighborhood bar, and sometimes it’s a normal size restaurant. Sometimes I build them from the ground up, and sometimes I just remodel an existing place. Some are successful and some are complete failures.” He laughed.

Oh, I loved hearing his heartfelt bass laugh and seeing the lines around his eyes deepen. Then he coughed. I patted his back, and signaled the waiter for our check. Beau would never allow me to pay, and knowing his funds were limited, I always tucked a fifty dollar bill somewhere in his apartment when visiting. “You sure I can keep these?” I asked when he rejected my attempt to return the Tim Sandlin novels he’d loaned me.

“All yours. I’m glad you liked him so much.”

“I loved him. Might even become one of his groupies.”

“Here, baby.” Beau insisted I take his metal detector, which he’d previously offered me. I gave him an extra hug instead of wasting time arguing. He wasn’t up to seeking hidden treasure anymore.

Beau valued his privacy, but the minute I got home I called. “Why don’t you come stay with me til you get healthier?”

“I’ll be fine, now stop worrying. We’ll spend more time together before I leave for Vegas. Hell, maybe I’ll teach you to count cards and bring you
along so we can make a small fortune. I say small because we’ll have medical bills when they break our legs for cheating.”

“Me on crutches? Beau, I’m a total klutz.”

“But wouldn’t the thrill of it be cool?”

“Hey, you know how Katie-Laura described you years ago?”

“How’s that?” He managed to ask between coughs.

“She said ‘Beau burns cool’ which initially mystified me. But I totally agree.”

“Sounds like her. She was a good girl. I hope you find her again and rekindle your special friendship.”

“I’m trying. Ladies are tough to find due to our last names changing with marriage. Now, let me get off this phone so you can rest.” I could hear him struggling for breath.

“I love you, baby.”

In all my years of knowing Beau, he’d never once said those words. “I love you too! Now go rest your lungs and call me when you feel better. Goodnight, Beau.”

26

Shortly after our trip to Galveston, I couldn’t reach Beau by phone and his answering machine wasn’t on. Eventually I drove by his apartment. My heart dropped when I found it vacant. Intuition told me he had not gone to Nevada, but still, I dialed numbers he gave me of places he might stay in Vegas. No Beau. I chastised myself for not insisting he come live with me. I spent an entire Saturday calling local hospitals before attempting to reach his ex-wife or their son. Unlisted. We had become too close for Beau to lose touch with me and I knew something was terribly wrong. Still, I refused to believe he went to the big poker game in the sky without saying goodbye, and kept waiting for him to call.

Aidan went overboard trying to keep my thoughts from Beau’s disappearance, which also helped keep my mind off Gabriel. The native Californian considered his state the greatest in the union, so occasionally I had to outshine his Golden State bragging with Texas trivia.

“You know, Texans don’t just eat squirrel for breakfast and armadillo for dinner every night. We have culture and a few famous folks.”

“Oh yeah, Bonnie and Clyde, Tex Watson, and Lee Harvey Oswald?”

“Howard Hughes, Walter Cronkite, Carol Burnett.”

“Weak on athletes, though,” the smug sports aficionado interrupted.

“Only if you don’t count World Heavyweight Boxing Champion George Foreman, Indy 500 race car winner, A.J. Foyt, golfers Babe Didrikson Zaharias, Lee Trevino, Ben Hogan and Tom Kite, baseball great Nolan Ryan. . .” I took a breath, hoping to recall others.

“Well, Texas
is
a big state.” Aidan looked around the room.

“And birthplace of Tom Landry, illustrious coach of the Dallas Cowboys, not to mention coach and athletic director of Rice University, John William Heisman who just happened to get a trophy named after him. Ever hear of the Heisman Trophy, Aidan?”

“You’re killing me. Can I buy you a shot? Maybe one of those ‘mind erasers’?”

I was revved up. “Houston built the first sports stadium with a dome in 1965, and speaking of domes, Austin’s capitol building dome stands seven feet higher than the nation’s Capitol in Washington, D.C.”

“Bring this girl a shot of anything.” He motioned to a waitress.

“The King Ranch is bigger than the state of Rhode Island; Austin is considered the live music capital of the world; and Texas-born musicians are too numerous to mention. But let’s start with Selena—the Queen of Tejano music, since she’s from my home town of Lake Jackson. And your favorite, Woody Guthrie is a fellow Texan to Barry White, Buddy Holly, The Eagles’ Don Henley, Janis Joplin, Meatloaf, Roy Orbison, Stevie Ray Vaughn, ZZ Top, Willie Nelson.” I paused to continue the long list.

“Shut it.” He lightly placed his finger across my lips.

“And did I mention the word “buttload” is an official Texas measurement?”

This time Aidan used a kiss to quiet me. Yum.

Friends began saying it was nice to see me happy again. For the first time in ages, I was actually smiling from the heart. Until that weekend at the Westheimer Art Festival. After meandering through the artsy shops, Aidan and I went inside a booth filled with handmade wooden items where the craftsman was busily carving wood into whales. The smell hit me like a double Patsy Cline CD. Confronting the pitiful reality that my erotic epiphanies would always arise at the scent of sawdust, I rushed out of the tiny building and leaned against a tree, leaving Aidan alone for a few minutes.

“There you are,” said Aidan when he found me. “Whatcha doin?”

“Pondering the crisis in the Gulf.”

“Well you can do that at Griff’s. I’ll even let you win a game of darts.”

“I’ll win more than one game, without handicap from you.”

“Whatever you say, Ms. Steinem.”

I’d heard that line before. “I say it’s time for a drink and you’re buying.” I swept his hair from his forehead, wishing I could’ve been one-tenth as independent, strong, and intelligent as Gloria Steinem. My false bravado and stubbornness had deceived Gabriel years ago, and now Aidan.

“When have you ever bought?” He pulled my hand into his, heading to his car.

“Just making it clear.”

Nikki, my nephew Jim, and his wife Roxanne were the ones who brought the tragic news of my dad being killed in an auto accident. I’m not being callous by saying this seemed a befitting departure, since Dad drove like a bat out of hell and like myself, could eat or read as he sped around town. We never had a strong closeness, but bonded some in the years after he turned his life around, stopped drinking, and flourished into a wonderful soul. I stepped up visits with Mother and realized that despite decades of dealing with his drunkenness, she never once said a negative word about Dad. She was the epitome of a gracious Southern woman—a trait she had fortunately passed to one of her two daughters.

Losing my dad brought immense sadness, but nothing comparable to the grief I felt when Sean died. For days after Dad’s funeral I functioned on auto-pilot, which is likely why I answered my phone on first ring.

“You okay, Blondie?” Gabriel asked. “I’m sorry to hear about your dad and just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m okay,” I answered, unable to hide my grief. “Thanks for asking.”

“You’ll never believe what I did last week.” His voice switched to “Cheer her up” mode.

“Probably not.”

“I drove by the St. Patrick apartments—well, they’re named something else now. Christ, they’re old and dilapidated and should be condemned.”

My heart fluttered. “Do you remember where I lived? And did you go by and see if the peep-hole was still in the door?”

“Of course I remember
our
apartment; number one-twenty-six. And no, I didn’t get out of my van. Christ, Blondie—you tryin’ to get me shot?”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“Believe me, you wouldn’t wanna go there unarmed.”

“Oh, that makes me sad. Those apartments were so special to me.”

“I know what you mean,” he said softly, as though tripping back in time.

“Gabriel, I need to go now.” My heart was about to pounce out of my chest. “Take care of yourself.”

“You do the same, okay? Again, I’m sorry for your loss. Please call me if you need anything.”

I hung up and took ten deliberate breaths, as if fresh air would eradicate my longing for him. He still loved me. Why else would he go out of his way to go by those apartments?

Only months after Dad’s death, Ellen and her husband Charles uprooted and moved back to Lake Jackson, near our mother. It wasn’t a sacrifice for Ellen, who enjoyed small town living and was a spitting image of our straight-laced mother. But at age seventy, Mother’s fun side emerged and she began answering the phone in her immaculate home, “Joe’s mule barn.”

“I’m worried she’s getting senile,” Ellen said.

“No, we’re just seeing the perky personality that Dad fell in love with. I think Mom toned down to raise us kids while Dad ramped up and started raising hell.”

“Maybe,” Ellen agreed with a smile. “Let’s just hope Mom doesn’t get wild like he did.”

“Not to worry, with her chromosomes.”

Dad’s DNA got me banned from a few bars in my earlier years, whereas Mother’s DNA yielded virtuous Ellen. Saints and sinners. Beau always said life would be boring without both.

Aidan’s job offer was reaching the stage where he had to decline or accept, which would entail his move to California. He seemed hesitant about taking the job, especially considering his love for the state and his small ranch there. Maybe it was salary or benefits or a combination. I was ambivalent about his news, not really caring if he’d accept the job and move. Soon, I was feeling apathetic toward him. Maybe it was losing my
dad, missing Beau, or exhaustive furniture refurbishing, but soon my marvelous feelings for Mr. Great Sex dwindled. Okay. Aidan just wasn’t the real thing.

I went back to screening
all
calls to avoid conversations with Gabriel. Beau’s words about me being in an emotional downpour of unsalvageable love, echoed in my head and gave me strength to stay clear of Gabriel’s heart wounding zone.

27

I spent months reconnecting with pals from my past, and searching for others (like my daughter’s beloved sitter Rachel, amazing Patrice, and even my dear Katie) while spending time with Nikki when she wasn’t with Tad. Nikki still communicated with Gabriel, but respectfully kept their conversations to herself. Until Gabriel told her Gloria was hospitalized with a serious heart condition. Nikki conveyed Gabriel’s concern. I had to call him.

“Gabriel, I’m sorry to hear about Gloria.”

“She’s not doing well,” he said. “Thanks for calling.”

“Gloria was special to me for many years. What’s her prognosis?”

“Dilated cardiomyopathy. Naturally she’s determined to beat it.”

“I’m sure she will. I don’t know much about heart disease, but know Gloria’s a fighter.”

“This condition weakens and enlarges the heart, keeping blood from pumping efficiently. If they don’t get things under control, it’ll affect her lungs, liver, and so forth.”

“I am truly sorry, Gabriel.”