Читать книгу Past, Present And A Future - Janice Carter - Страница 10

HE DIDN’T SAY a word until they reached the end of the sidewalk. “My car or yours?”

Clare hesitated. “Maybe we should just forget about this.”

Gil sent her a look—a challenge. “Is that really what you want?” He didn’t pause long enough for a reply. “How about meeting in the park across from town hall? We’d still be taking a walk, getting fresh air and no one has to feel bad about skipping out on the christening reception.”

“We were there for the important part,” she added.

“Definitely,” he said. “I’ll see you at John Calvin’s statue in about ten minutes?”

He walked to his car before she could change her mind again and call a halt to the plan. Clare muttered to herself during the short drive to the park, wondering why she’d agreed to his suggestion. There were plenty of parking spaces around Riverside Park although several families were taking advantage of the balmy day to visit the town’s scenic center. She quickly spotted Gil, lounging against the statue of the town’s founder.

“Looks like we weren’t the only ones thinking of the park today,” he commented as she approached.

Clare nodded. “The children’s play area over there must be a draw,” she said. “Too bad we didn’t have anything like that when we were kids.”

“We hung out at the school playground then. Remember?”

She did. They’d attended one of two elementary schools in town and the whole class had moved to Twin Falls High afterward. There’d been no escape from any of her classmates, Clare remembered. No place else to go, except out of town. Some students, mostly those in a higher economic bracket, had gone to various private schools in or near Hartford.

“Shall we take the river trail?” Gil asked.

“Sure,” she said, knowing how indifferent she sounded but not really caring.

He led the way to the strip of asphalt running along the top of the riverbank. “I think I liked this trail better when it was just gravel,” Gil commented. “It seemed more natural. This makes me feel like I’m in one of those theme parks.”

Clare smiled to herself. She bet Gil had never stepped foot in a theme park. “I think it would take more than an asphalt walkway to qualify.”

“I guess it’s my age showing—I hate seeing so many changes.”

“But a lot of the changes in town look to be good ones,” she said. “They show growth and economic stability.”

“True enough. I remember a time when I was a kid that my folks seemed real worried about making a go of it here. Especially after the lumber mill closed down.”

She’d forgotten about that. By then, her parents had divorced and her mother was working at the bank. “I don’t remember where your father ended up after the mill closed.”

“He took some computer courses at night school in Hartford and eventually managed to get a job in the administration department at town hall. He stayed there ’til retirement.”

“When was that?”

“Five years ago. He was seventy when he had his stroke.”

“I always liked your father.”

They walked in silence a few more yards until Gil said, a bit gruffly, “Yeah, and he always liked you, too.” He motioned to a bench ahead. “Want to sit for a minute?”

She hesitated, sensing the stop might lead to more reminiscing and she wasn’t sure she wanted that to happen. But she was reluctant to decline, especially right after talking about his father. Plus, she and Gil had been friends—more than friends—long ago.

“Sure,” she said and sank onto the wooden seat. A line of trees were strung along the other side of the trail and through them, she could make out the wooden footbridge spanning the river and the steep embankment leading up from it. Her eyes moved up to its high point. “I see there’s a guardrail over there, too.”

Her gaze shifted slightly to the left and she noticed the distant rooftop of Twin Falls High. She bit down on her tongue as she realized what she was looking at. They were sitting directly across the river from the place where Rina Thomas’s body had been found.

Gil noticed where she was looking and, after a moment, said, “I imagine they put it up after Rina died. Maybe to discourage kids from using the shortcut.”

She turned his way but he was still staring at the opposite side of the river. When he finally spoke, his voice was so low she could hardly hear. “It’s taken me a while to be able to refer to Rina with equanimity, but I’ve managed to put the whole thing behind me.” His eyes fixed on hers. “And I suggest you try to do the same, Clare. Otherwise, comments like the ones we both heard today will always bother you.”

Blood rushed to her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was upset because…because some people have focused on a single aspect of my book.”

“Maybe your reaction shows that you’re unsure about your intentions in writing the book. Not that I’m saying you purposely set out to produce a tell-all kind of book. But I do know that the Clare Morgan I remember had a tougher shell than the one I saw today at the christening.”

Clare leaped to her feet. “You amaze me, you really do. I mean, we haven’t seen or spoken for seventeen years and you have the nerve to think you still know me. It’s almost laughable.” She folded her arms across her chest and stepped away from the bench, keeping her eyes on the view ahead. She heard him get up and for a tense instant, thought he was going to move closer and place a hand on her shoulder. But he didn’t. She spun around.

“In fact,” she went on, “you don’t know me any better now than you did then.” She forced her eyes on his, challenging his set, impassive expression to reveal some emotion. Any emotion. But his gaze, coolly resting on her flushed face for no more than a second, shifted to some distant point beyond her.

“You’re right about that, Clare. I thought I knew you then, but I was wrong.” He moved farther away from where she was standing. “Good luck with your signing in Hartford tomorrow and…all the best with your book tour.” He turned his back on her and walked steadfastly toward the center of the park.

She watched him go until she accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to change his mind and turn around. Slowly, her heart rate slowed to normal and the pounding in her head decelerated to a faint pulsing.

Clare picked up her purse from the bench and headed for her car on the far side of the park. When she passed John Calvin’s statue, she noticed the small bench to its right and a rush of memory overwhelmed her. It was the exact spot where she and Gil had parted company two nights after Rina Thomas was killed. The irony didn’t escape her. But it did fill her with a surge of sadness that she knew only time and distance from Twin Falls would vanquish.

“I WAS SO HAPPY when you called to say you could make it after all tonight,” Laura gushed as soon as she opened the front door. When Clare stepped into the hallway, Laura added, “You don’t have to worry about any indiscreet remarks, either, because only my folks are here and they’re totally engrossed in Emma.” Then she whispered, “But did you get a copy of the paper?”

“Yes, I did, as soon as I got back to the hotel. I agree with Anne-Marie. The article was completely off topic. If I wasn’t leaving tomorrow I’d lodge a complaint. But—” she shrugged and worked her face into a big smile “—who’s going to be reading the Spectator outside Twin Falls anyway?”

“Point taken,” Laura laughed. She looped her arm through Clare’s. “Come and get a drink. The food’s on its way and I’ve nothing to do but get caught up on the last couple of years.”

When the deliveryman arrived with cartons of Thai food, they gathered around the dining-room table and talked as they ate. After Laura’s parents left, Laura pulled Clare by the arm into the living room.

“Dave promised to put Emma to bed so we can have a little chat. More coffee?”

“Heavens, no. I’ll be up all night.” Clare sat in the armchair while Laura curled up on the couch across from her.

“So,” Laura said with a big smile, “how did your walk with Gil go?”

Clare laughed nervously. “You get right to the point, don’t you?”

“I always have. You know that. I don’t mince my words. But I was surprised that you took off with him. I mean, after the way you acted Friday night and then last night at dinner—”

“What’s that supposed to mean? The way I acted? Considering the shock of his appearance on your doorstep Friday night, I think I behaved very well. We were polite and courteous. We got through the ceremony without drawing blood.”

Laura laughed. “You both acted as if you were meeting for the first time. I wish you could have seen your face when he walked into the room. Dave was totally oblivious to the electricity zinging around, but I wasn’t.”

“You always tended to exaggerate, Laura. I doubt even a spark could be generated from any contact I might have with Gil Harper.”

“Ouch!” Laura grinned. “I take it the walk was polite and courteous then?”

Clare knew a fishing expedition when she saw one. “For the most part. At any rate, we said goodbye and…well, that’s that.” Clare shifted her attention to the table in front of the bay window where some of Emma’s gifts were on display. “I see Emma got some lovely things.”

Laura followed her gaze. “Yes. And thank you again for the beautiful dress. I noticed the label. It must have cost a fortune.”

Clare flushed. “Only fitting I think, from the godmother.”

“Gil gave her the sweetest teddy bear, as well as a silver locket that can hold a tiny photograph. I was surprised. I mean, he didn’t have much warning about being godfather.”

Gil again. Clare peered down at her watch, hoping Laura would take the hint. “I should go, Laura. Early start in the morning.”

“Oh, yes, you’re visiting the school. How did Miss Stuart sound on the phone?”

“The same. Though I’ve a feeling she’s married now or at least in a relationship. A man answered the phone.”

“That’s nice. Gee, it’ll be strange for you to be back at Twin Falls High, walking those corridors again. What time are you on for?”

“Nine-thirty. I have to leave by ten-thirty to get to Hartford before noon.”

“Did you tell me what bookstore in Hartford you’re going to be signing at?” Laura asked.

“A place called The Dust Jacket.”

“I’ve heard of that. It’s supposed to be an amazing store. Dave’s taken the day off tomorrow, otherwise I’d get him to pop by.”

Clare smiled, trying to picture Dave doing just that on a busy workday. She stood up. “I really should go, Laura.”

“I know. You’ve got glamorous things to do tomorrow while I’ll be nursing a baby and doing laundry.”

There was a wistful note in her voice that surprised Clare. “And doting on your beautiful baby. Don’t forget that!”

“Oh, no. Trust me, now I’ll never be able to see myself in any other role. It’s just that I never expected to…well…settle down like this without doing all the things I once dreamed of. Isn’t it ironic how we both have kind of exchanged places?”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember when we were in our last year at Twin Falls High, dreaming of going off to college and starting new, exciting lives for ourselves?”

Clare smiled. “I do.”

“I distinctly recall one sleepover being entirely devoted to what we wished for in our future. I wanted to be rich, famous and travel the world. But what shocked me—at the ripe old age of seventeen—was that you said you wanted to marry Gil Harper and live in Twin Falls for the rest of your life.”

Clare’s smile froze. “I don’t remember that at all,” she said.

Laura held up a hand. “Now don’t get all worked up, Clare Morgan. But you did say it.”

Clare leaned over to pick up her purse, slung over the arm of her chair. Laura had an uncanny knack for calling up the most embarrassing moments in one’s life, she thought. But she did remember. Her ridiculous wish was uttered a scarce six months after she’d started dating Gil—when she was still madly in love with him. She draped her purse over her shoulder. “If you say so, Laura. You obviously have a much better memory than I.”

Laura cued in to the stiffness in Clare’s voice. She stammered out an explanation. “I was just thinking…you know…how funny it is that I married my high-school sweetheart and bought a house in Twin Falls while you went on to become rich and famous.”

Clare saw the worry in Laura’s face. Neither, she knew, wanted the weekend to finish on a sour note. She reached out and affectionately tapped the end of Laura’s nose. “Not rich or really famous yet but…hopefully…getting there.” When she laughed, Laura’s face creased in relief.

They smiled at one another for a long moment before Laura said, “Thanks ever so much for coming, Clare. I know how hard it must have been for you and I want you to know how much I appreciate it. Promise not to wait another two years before we see each other again?”

“Yes,” Clare said, reaching out to embrace her. “And when you’ve finished nursing Emma and are feeling like you need a break, let me know. I’d love some company.”

“Oh, I’ll take you up on that one for sure!” She walked Clare to the door. “Say hello to Miss Stuart for me.”

Clare waved goodbye and headed for her car. As she pulled away from the curb, she craned around to see Laura waving goodbye from the doorstep. Her adolescent wish from years ago surfaced again. If life had played out the way you’d expected, that would be you at home with a baby. That was the scenario she’d fantasized about while dating Gil, scrawling “Mrs. Clare Harper” over and over in her notebook during Chemistry class.

Instead, she’d led mainly a solitary life, finding fulfillment in teaching and later, success in writing. Success that had come at a price. Her hard work over the past few years had pretty much excluded a personal life. At least, one that sustained love and the promise of a long-term partnership. Now the notion of marriage and children was not only daunting, but completely mind-boggling.

“IT WAS SO WONDERFUL of you to come,” Lisa Stuart said to Clare as her twelfth-grade English class scrambled out the door.

Clare smiled at the woman who had been not only her favorite teacher in high school, but who’d inspired her to major in English at college. She was struck again by how little her teacher had changed over the years. But then, she reminded herself, seventeen years ago Lisa Stuart had been a new teacher and probably not much older than her students. It was odd how once you passed thirty, the age gap seemed to shrink.

“I just hope they weren’t too bored,” Clare said.

“Heavens, no! Did you notice how quiet it was in here when you were speaking? They hung on to every word.”

“Especially the ones referring to royalties,” Clare quipped.

“Yes, very typical of young people these days to get to the bottom line.” She sighed. “If there’s no money attached to something, it seems there’s no value in it. Are you sure you don’t want to come up to the staff room for a coffee?”

“I really need to get on the road. I’m due in Hartford at noon.”

Lisa nodded. “Thanks again, Clare. It was very nice to be able to brag about you. Teachers don’t always have success stories like yours. And it was lovely of you to attribute some of that success to me, though I think you were far too generous.”

“Not at all, Miss Stuart. You weren’t just my favorite. All the kids loved you. By the way, Laura Dundas sends her regards. Remember her? She married Dave Kingsway.”

“Please call me Lisa, Clare. And yes, I remember Laura very well. I saw the birth announcement in the Spectator. She and her husband must be thrilled.”

“They are.” Clare began to pack the sample books she’d brought into her canvas bag. She glanced around her.

“Missing something?”

“My new book. I passed it around but I don’t see it anywhere.”

Lisa frowned. “It’s got to be here.” She walked around the room. “There it is. Someone’s left it on a desk. Kids never seem to listen.” She brought it to Clare. “And thanks for signing my personal copy.”

Clare tucked the book into the bag. “Well thank you for buying a copy. I was going to give you one.”

“You can’t give them away, Clare. Every cent of royalty counts. Have you had a chance while you were in town to see many of your old high-school friends?”

Clare wondered how much her former teacher had been aware of her students’ personal lives. “Not really,” she evaded. “Most have moved out of Twin Falls.”

“I read yesterday’s article in the Spectator,” Lisa said.

Clare fiddled with the clasp on her purse. “Oh, yes? What did you think of it?”

“Typical of that reporter’s usual fare. An attempt to be sensational. To incite public speculation. I hate it when journalists pretend to be writing one thing but really have an agenda all their own. He starts off by claiming to review your novel and suddenly shifts into something that happened years ago. I haven’t finished your book yet, but I found his claims about the similarities between the two to be exaggerated.”

“I’m afraid people will think I was merely rewriting history and camouflaging it as fiction.”

“Well, obviously you drew on your experiences in a small town with your heroine but I never actually thought the story was based on real life.”

Clare swallowed hard, resisting the urge to admit that one or two incidents had actually occurred. “Plus the death in my novel wasn’t a murder.”

“Exactly. I thought Withers was stretching it to focus on the Rina Thomas murder the way he did. Anyway, it happened so long ago I doubt a lot of readers even know about the case.”

“Unfortunately, they do now.” Clare sighed.

“Don’t let people like Withers get to you, Clare. As I said, he was more interested in producing a bit of sensationalism than in giving an honest review.”

“Thanks for that. And thanks, too, for the opportunity this morning. It’s been a while since I faced a group of teenagers in a classroom.”

“Your teacher training was very evident, believe me,” Lisa said. “I’ve encouraged some of the kids to read the book for their novel study this term.”

Clare slipped on her coat, picked up the canvas book bag and her purse and walked with Lisa to the door. There, she impulsively hugged her. “Thanks again, Lisa. For everything.”

She hastened along the corridor to the exit nearest the parking lot. Her low heels clipped along the tile floor, echoing in the muted quiet as classes droned on behind closed doors. She had a sudden flash to another day when she had rushed along this same hall, eager to meet Gil on the playing field after his baseball practice.

She reached the exit and pushed down on the bar of the door, stepping outside. The field stretched ahead of her. It looked the same, she noted, though was now enhanced by tiers of bleachers for spectators.

Clare stared at it, remembering with sudden, vivid clarity the sight of Gil Harper embracing Rina Thomas out there. She had stared in disbelief from the very place where she was now poised, watching Gil and Rina walk arm in arm toward the ravine and the shortcut to the footbridge spanning the river. It was the last time she ever saw Rina Thomas.

Clare took a shaky breath. Relax, Clare. It’s all over and done with. And in a few minutes, you’re out of here.

She rounded the corner of the school to the parking lot, just as she had that day, only this time tears weren’t blinding her way. Striding to her car, she determined to put as much distance between the past and the present as quickly as possible. By the time she reached the sprawling outskirts of Hartford, Clare was thinking only of her book signing.

She parked in the lane behind the store, which was tucked into a beautifully renovated section of the old town. Clare took the canvas bag with some promotional bookmarks and posters and hoped that the shipment of books her publisher had ordered for the event had arrived. A clerk on standby at the rear of the building opened the door for her, greeting her enthusiastically.

There was already a small crowd milling about, in spite of the fact that it was a Monday. The manager took her coat, brought her coffee and a bottle of water, and ushered her to a solid and comfortable armchair behind the table. By the time Clare began, asking the name of the first person in line, she’d already pushed from her mind the morning visit to Twin Falls High.

This was the part of her new role in life that she loved—chatting to ordinary people who not only liked to read, but who liked to read her books. She still had difficulty accepting the idea that complete strangers would want to read something she wrote. She was sipping the last of her coffee when a man’s voice caught her attention and she looked up over the rim of her cup.

“Mr. Wolochuk?” she asked, squinting at the man in front of the table.

He gave a quick nod. “Nice to see you, Clare. And nice to see you remember me.”

“Of course I do. I—I struggled through your chemistry class in senior year.”

His tentative smile revealed an uneven set of tobacco-stained teeth. The years had obviously not been kind to Stanley Wolochuk, Clare thought. Stoop-shouldered with limp, graying hair, he looked close to retirement, although Clare guessed he must only be in his early fifties.

“If I recall correctly, you passed my course. And it appears you’ve gone on to bigger and better things.” He gestured to the stack of books on the table.

“I’ve been very lucky,” she said, knowing luck had been a small part of the process.

“Well…uh…when I saw the notice in the paper here about the signing, I thought I should come and say hello. And buy a book, too,” he added with a strained laugh. His long, sallow face creased into deep ridges. He nudged a copy of her novel toward her.

Clare flipped to the title page, her mind racing for an appropriate inscription. It was so much easier to write something innocuous to a stranger. Acquaintances and friends demanded more personal attention. She felt his eyes on her while she lowered her head to write. Scrawling something about having more success at writing than chemistry, she flipped over the cover when she’d finished.

“So are you still teaching, Mr. Wolochuk?”

“No, had to go on disability a few years ago.” He paused. “Heart condition.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Clare didn’t know what more to say. There was only one woman left in line behind him and she was thumbing through a book, apparently in no hurry. “I did a signing in Twin Falls yesterday,” she said, “and this morning, I paid a visit to the high school. Lisa Stuart asked me to speak to her senior English class.”

His eyes narrowed with interest. “Oh? How did that go?”

“Very well, or so Lisa assured me. Lots of questions from the kids at the end, which is always a good sign. Though most of them had to do with the money and fame aspects of publishing.”

“And…uh…” he paused, noisily clearing his throat, “did you have a chance to see any of your old friends?”

“One or two,” she said, keeping vague in order to cut short the conversation. The woman still in line was now looking up.

But Mr. Wolochuk seemed in no hurry. “Were you in town long?”

Clare shook her head. “Just for the weekend. Are you still living there?”

A flicker of some emotion Clare couldn’t read crossed his face. After a moment, he said, “No. Left there quite a while ago. I live here now.”

“Oh.” Clare saw the woman check her watch. “Well, it was very nice to see you again, Mr. Wolochuk, and thank you for buying my book.”

He gave a slight nod but stayed rooted in place. The woman behind him coughed and Wolochuk suddenly woke up to the fact that someone was waiting. He picked up the book and moved aside for the woman.

Clare smiled at her next customer and, just before inquiring about a name, glanced at Mr. Wolochuk. “Thanks again,” she said brightly.

“Yes. Goodbye then, and good luck.” He turned and walked away.

When Clare raised her head again, she caught a glimpse of the back of his faded denim jacket as he went out the front door. She saw him hesitate briefly on the sidewalk, as if he were thinking about coming back inside. Then he resumed walking and disappeared from view.

Clare blew a sigh of relief. Two former teachers in one day and both so very different. She’d always thought her chemistry teacher to be a bit odd. Now he seemed almost sad, as if life had been sucked right out of him.

Clare was packing her things when the store clerk rushed over to say there was an urgent phone call for her. “You can take it in the manager’s office,” the clerk was saying as she led the way.

Thoughts of who it could be flooded Clare’s mind—her mother, her agent? The one voice she wasn’t expecting to hear on the other end of the line was Laura’s.