Читать книгу The View From Alameda Island - Robyn Carr, Robyn Carr - Страница 11

Beau carried a forty-pound bag of fertilizer on each shoulder as he walked along the trail of patio stones that led to the vegetable garden. There he found Tim working on building a nice large pile of weeds. “I thought I might find you here,” Beau said. “I brought you a present.” He dropped one bag on the ground and lowered the other. “What are you up to?”

“Just hoeing around,” the priest said.

“You’re hilarious.”

“I know. I haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks,” Tim said. Then he stepped over his plants and gave Beau a firm handshake that brought them shoulder to shoulder. “How’s life?”

“Manageable, but busy,” Beau said, returning the man hug. Tim and Beau had known each other since they were about ten. To say they took different paths in life would be an understatement.

“But is life any good?” Tim pushed.

“Lots of it is,” Beau said. “Work is excellent. I’m almost too busy. Things are quiet at home. I watch sports all night.”

“I guess the divorce is proceeding,” Tim said.

He shrugged. “It’s a little stalled. Pamela wanted to try counseling. I thought it was a waste of time that also cost money. But then Michael asked me why I wouldn’t give it a shot.” He looked down, shaking his head. “I don’t know why Michael gets himself into this—he’s twenty, a sophomore, has a steady relationship...”

“He’s trying to put his life together—the life he wants to have. He doesn’t want the one you and Pamela have. He wants to know how that works.” Tim sank to one knee and stabbed the bag of fertilizer, ripping it open, releasing the rank smell.

“You almost sound like you know anything at all about marriage, Father,” Beau said.

“I’m well trained,” Tim shot back.

“Michael just needs to pay attention to the women he lets into his life, make sure there aren’t any red flags. Maybe he should be in counseling. Just for his future.”

“Not a bad idea,” the priest agreed. “Have you told him the truth, Beau? That you stayed for them?”

“I might’ve suggested that,” Beau said, sticking a shovel in the fertilizer and scooping out a big load, sprinkling it down the rows. “I told the counselor I’m there in body only. I don’t want to fix it. I want to end it. Our mission in counseling should be to help Pamela let go. So she sobbed for an hour, babbling excuses and trying to explain her change of heart. And there was begging. My head hurt for two days. It’s torture.”

“Stop going,” Tim said. He sat back on his heels. “Seriously, stop going. You are the worst victim sometimes. You can’t do this for her. It was her choice, you gave her many last chances. She needs counseling but not marriage counseling.”

“Well damn,” Beau said. “What about the sanctity of marriage and all that?”

“Everything has an expiration date, my brother,” Tim replied. “Really, I’m in the wrong order. I should be with the Jesuits. I’m living in this century. I can’t tell perfectly miserable people trapped in abusive and unholy relationships to stick it out just because the church prefers it that way and we promised to turn the other cheek and all that. I wouldn’t have lasted a year with Pamela.”

Beau grinned. “If the diocese ever finds out about you, you’re history.”

“Eh,” he grunted. He stood and started spreading the fertilizer with his hoe. “How about Drew?”

“Drew’s good. Graduating in a couple of weeks. I’m having a party for him—mostly his friends and my family. Will you come?”

“Of course, as long as no one dies or gets married.”

“Pamela is trying to get involved, combining families, throw in an ex who may or may not show up. I’m expecting Drew will get a card with some money in it from his dad—anywhere from twenty to a hundred, depending on his guilt. It’s so awkward, my family and I’m sure her family know the circumstances but we have to make nice, act like we’re at least getting along, look as if we’re not getting divorced. I talked to Drew about all the subterfuge and he said, ‘No biggie. Let her do it. Then we’re done until I get married, which I promise you will be many years from now. Between now and then, I’m probably not going to make her unhappy.’ You gotta love that kid. Everything rolls off his back.”

“Or it seems to,” Tim said. “Keep an eye on that. Still waters...”

“We spend a lot of time together,” Beau said. “Just me and Drew these days. I think Drew has forgotten we have Michael’s graduation in a year...”

“Things will be better by then. What did you tell the counselor?”

“I told her we’ve been separated four times, Pamela has had other relationships during the separations and when we’re together she’s almost always unhappy and we argue too much. She pokes at me until I poke back, so sometimes I leave the house or go in the garage or detail the truck. I told her I don’t want to do that anymore. And of course she asked if we fixed our relationship so it wasn’t like that, was I in? And I said, I’m sorry, not anymore.” He dug out a shovelful of fertilizer. “I’d like to move on so my friends and family aren’t constantly forced to ask me where we are now.”

Tim stopped moving his hoe. “I’m sorry, Beau,” he said.

“Aw, not you, Tim. I don’t see enough of you for you to get on my nerves. That’s a problem, by the way. I’d like to see enough of you for you to get on my nerves.”

Tim grinned. “Basketball game Thursday night.”

“Can I bring a ringer?”

“Absolutely. I haven’t seen Drew in months.”

“I’m in pretty good shape,” Beau said. “You should pray.”

“I’ll think about it, Beauregard,” he said.

When Beau was a kid, a relatively poor kid, Tim’s well-off family moved into town. Tim’s dad was a lawyer. Beau never went to school hungry but there were lots of times he wanted more to eat than there was and he was impressed by the bounty of Tim’s table. Beau had two sisters and a brother, Tim had two brothers and a sister. Tim lived in a five-bedroom house on a big lot with a brick circular driveway. Tim’s mom played a lot of tennis at their club and had a cleaning lady. But, despite the differences, the boys became friends and stayed friends all the way through school.

Beau’s parents were amazed and impressed that he got himself through college in five years with no help from them. Tim, on the other hand, went to Notre Dame. He’d never admitted it to anyone but he’d always aspired to the priesthood. He was spiritual and wanted to help people. Notre Dame honed that aspiration into reality.

Tim’s parents were appalled. Tim, being so damn smart, would have made a good lawyer in his father’s firm, but that didn’t interest him. He studied theology and counseling. And his mother lamented that he wouldn’t be a father. “But yes, I will,” he answered with a smile.

As it was, Beau became a landscape architect, marrying his love of design with his love of growing things. And Tim, after being away for many years, had finally come home to a parish in California not so far from where he grew up. And he was reunited with his closest friends.

When Tim came back it was to find his best friend struggling with a failing marriage. And while Beau was so happy to have Tim close by, he found the good father at odds with his assignment in his new parish. Tim wanted to help the needy, the hungry, the disenfranchised of the world and here in Mill Valley he was tending the wounds of people with plenty of money and access to everything they might ever need by way of health care, private education and luxuries. True, the well-to-do were not without problems, but Beau knew Tim longed for grittier work. He felt he wasn’t as useful as he could be.

They talked for a while about the vegetable garden and fruit trees, laughed a little bit about how Tim’s boss, the bishop, just wanted him to get people back into church. “He wants the confessional bubbling 24/7 and while there are plenty of Catholics in the parish, they’re more like you,” Tim said. “Not too worried about having a priest guide them and intercede with Christ for them. And most gave up on church doctrine a long time ago.”

“Your ego must be bruised,” Beau said with a laugh.

“I’m bored,” Tim admitted. “There isn’t enough challenge.”

“It’s a rich parish. Surely you can find something to do with the money!”

“This isn’t my dream job, Beau. In fact, sometimes I question my calling. Or better to say, sometimes I ask myself if I’ve done all I can do in this—”

Someone was walking through the garden and the men turned to see a lovely woman standing not far from them.

“I’ll be damned,” Beau said. “Lauren!” And he smiled, thrilled to see her.

* * *

Lauren left work a little early. It was a beautiful spring day and she wanted to stop at Divine Redeemer and see how far along the gardens had come. It wasn’t Tuesday, she told herself. There was no harm in it. But inside she knew she wanted to see him. Just to hear him talk about the gardens. Or his boys. She wondered how his life was going. Maybe he would talk a little about his divorce. If she felt comfortable and even a little secure, she’d ask him how they broke it to the kids. Cassie’s graduation was a mere week away. After that event and the celebration, when things had calmed, Lauren was going to stir it all up by telling her daughters her plans.

She was terrified.

The garden was looking so beautiful. In this part of the world, the humid spring brought everything to life in such a rainbow of colors. She sighed deeply. It made her feel calmer just looking at it.

Then she heard the laughter of men. She rounded the corner and there stood Beau and another man. Dear God, they were both hunks. Tall, broad-shouldered, lean. Beau had thick brown hair and the other man, straw-colored. Both had strong, tan arms; both held gardening tools—a hoe and a shovel. She just filled her eyes with them. Must be Beau’s assistant or one of the church maintenance men.

“Lauren!” Beau said, and there was no mistaking the delight in his voice. Her heart soared and she smiled back.

“I never expected to run into you here,” she said. “I wanted to check out the garden. I haven’t been back here in weeks.”

“Lauren, this is my friend, Father Tim. Tim, this is Lauren. We met here one afternoon. I was replacing a few plants and she was enjoying the garden. Then we ran into each other again at a fund-raiser.”

“Nice to meet you,” the priest said. Oh, he was much too handsome to be a priest. She immediately decided a bunch of women probably sought his counsel. Regularly.

“Nice to meet you, too. It’s all looking beautiful. You must have dozens if not hundreds of people spending time here.”

He shrugged. “When there are daytime functions at the church. Sundays, lots of people wander through. A few people come just to see the gardens. Surprisingly few, considering how beautiful it is.” He gazed around thoughtfully, leaning on his hoe. “We need a fountain. Maybe I’ll suggest it to the board. That’ll give them something to discuss for a year and a half.” He chuckled.

“I guess you like to get personally involved,” she said.

“On a day like today, when I have no appointments, it’s a good excuse. You must live around here.”

“Mill Valley. I work in Oakland so this is on my way home. I discovered this garden a long time ago. My grandmother was a master gardener. She’s gone now and so is the garden, I’m afraid.”

“How have you been?” Beau asked.

“Well. And you?”

“Great. I have a kid about to graduate high school. My youngest.”

She loved the way he talked about his stepsons as if they were his very own. “And I have one graduating college in two weeks. My baby.”

“You must have been seven,” Father Tim said with a laugh.

“Very nearly,” she said. “I was quite young when I married and had children. And here they are—grown. My nest has been empty for a while now but with Cassie’s graduation coming up I don’t see them coming home except for visits.” She took a breath. “It’s bittersweet.”

“I’m finding it only bitter,” Beau said with a laugh. “Drew has no interest in leaving me anytime soon. He’s going to UC Berkeley and it’s close. Close enough to commute.”

“He’ll change his mind in short order,” Tim said. “Once he sees all the good times on the campus, he’ll get interested in leaving home.”

Beau thought about this for a moment. “I’m not sure I take comfort in that idea. Trading one set of problems for another.”

“You wanted to be alone, remember.” Tim laughed.

“Show me what you’ve got going on here,” Lauren asked of the men.

They gave her a nice little tour, introducing her to the lettuces, cabbages, root vegetables, tomatoes and potatoes. Melon and squash vines were growing, flowers appearing where there would be fruit. Cucumber, beans and zucchini vines were snaking all over. Beau had a pumpkin patch started and Tim showed her the ancient apple trees that surrounded the church.

“Impressive,” she said. “The bounty. You guys do good work.”

“I’m only part-time,” Tim said.

“So am I. I didn’t plant the vegetables,” Beau said. “I tried to give them a design that would maximize their space.”

“You have quite a kale farm going there,” she said.

“You know what I heard about kale? That if you chop it and add coconut milk it’s much easier to scrape into the trash.”

She laughed but then she said, “I have some good recipes for kale. Kale and quinoa.”

“Mm. Sounds delicious,” Beau said, making a face.

The three of them talked about vegetables and flowers for about fifteen minutes while Tim and Beau spread fertilizer. Lauren, wearing a skirt and low pumps, couldn’t get into the dirt, though she wished she could join them. She did bend over and pull a weed here and there.

She looked at her watch. “I’d better head home. I was going to stop at the store and I always get sidetracked...”

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Beau said.

“It was nice meeting you, Father,” she said.

“I hope to see you again, Lauren.”

Beau kicked the dirt off his shoes before starting down the walk. At first he had his hands in his pockets but within only a few steps, his right hand rested at the small of her back. It felt so protective somehow, as though keeping a light hand on her to be ready if she stumbled or tripped or was suddenly in the path of a speeding train. Brad always gripped her elbow. A bit too tightly. Not escorting her but steering her.

“I’m glad I happened to be here when you stopped by, though I know it was probably the last thing you expected,” he said.

“It was, but I’m glad, too. I know it’s meaningless but just knowing you’re going through something similar... Really, I planned to wait for a time when I felt secure and comfortable to ask you...”

He stopped walking and looked into her eyes. His were dark, smoky blue and heavily lashed. She smiled. She had extra lashes applied so she wouldn’t need too much mascara but this guy who liked to dig in the dirt had all the lashes in the world.

“I hope I don’t make you feel insecure or uncomfortable. What are you going through that’s similar? You can ask me anything. I’m pretty much an open book.”

She took a deep breath. “How did you tell your boys you were getting a divorce?”

He put a comforting hand on her upper arm. “Our situations are probably different. Pamela told them she was moving out. She needed a breather, she said. She might be filing for divorce, she said, but she hoped a little separation would help. Then I had to tell them I wasn’t willing to try again. But I also told them I wasn’t going anywhere, that they were my boys and I loved them.”

“And that was enough?”

“I thought so at the time. We’ll see.”

“I have to tell my daughters,” Lauren said. “They love their father. They tiptoe around him, but I know they care about him.”

“Good that they care,” he said. “That’s a good thing. I’m sure he’s a great father.”

“No... I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “But that’s all too complicated. I just want to know how to tell them.”

“Lauren, they probably already know. They live with you. Once you know how you feel and what you want, you have to be clear and honest. Don’t expect them to be supportive. Aw hell, what do I know? I’m no expert. Our attempts at marriage counseling have been pretty dismal.”

“Ours, too!” she said. “Brad walks in the door with a mission to win over the counselor! Within ten minutes she’s thinking...it’s almost always a woman...she’s thinking the poor man has a nagging, half-crazy gold digger trying to bleed him dry of all his hard-earned money!”

All Beau could say was, “Gold digger?”

“Brad’s older than I am,” she explained. “He was a surgeon when we married. He’s very successful. His family was rich. As I mentioned, mine was not.”

“But you’re a chemist. A working chemist,” he said. “You’re obviously not laying on the daybed watching your soaps and having your nails done.”

She hid her hands. He smiled and pulled them out. They were lovely, manicured nails, soft hands, but not because she was self-indulgent. She took care of herself. “I do my own most of the time. I get an occasional manicure but I just can’t sit still for it.”

“It’s not a crime to be able to afford something like this. Pamela gets completely redone every six weeks. Maybe we have more in common than I thought,” he said. “Is your husband a little overpowering?”

She nodded.

He chuckled. “If you knew Pamela...”

“Overpowering?”

“She makes the rules,” he said. “Every couple of years she gets restless. Has he left you?”

“Never,” she said. “Not physically. He’s a very difficult, high-strung man. He knows everything. He has a bit of a temper.”

Beau’s face darkened with a low crimson brewing under his tan. “He hits you?”

She shook her head, shame preventing her from talking about what he did. What he did was so subtle. He hurt her in small ways that no one would ever notice. He had to have control. He was in total control all the time and if anyone got in his way or argued with him, he would fight back until he exhausted his opponent and they gave up or gave in. He belittled her. He loved reminding her she came from nothing. “I really should go,” she said a little nervously. She wasn’t afraid of being caught talking to a gardener in broad daylight at a church. She was nervous about exposing herself too much. If people knew how much she’d put up with, how could they respect her? She no longer respected herself.

“Wait,” he said. “Lauren, who do you have to talk to?”

“I have family. My sister. I have friends. They’re not all close but there are a couple I can confide in,” she said. “There’s Ruby. She was my supervisor at work but she’s fifteen years older than I am and she’s retired now and yet we’ve been close for a long time. It’s just that...” Ruby’s husband had been ill.

“I know marriage counseling hasn’t worked out. Mine hasn’t, either. Maybe she’s like your husband, put the two of us in a room and Pamela has to win. She’ll do anything to win. But maybe you should think about your own counselor. Just for you. Someone to help you get through the rough patches.”

She had done that once, on the sly, a secret counselor. Maybe she should revisit that idea. “Do you have your own counselor?” she asked.

“I don’t,” he said. “It’s been suggested and I might go that way yet. Right now, things are manageable. Not fun but manageable.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.

“Listen...” He paused and glanced away. “I’d like to see you again. Is that possible?”

“Probably not. A complication right now...”

“I’m not suggesting anything illicit, but if you want someone to talk to... I know I wouldn’t mind having someone to talk to.”

“I can’t depend on a man right now, not even for talking.”

“I wouldn’t want that, either,” he said. He pulled out a card. “That’s my cell number. If you want a cup of coffee. Or if you’re sitting on a park bench worrying about things...”

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s doubtful I’ll call.”

“I understand,” he said. “It’s an offer.”

“But you’re a busy guy and I’m a virtual stranger.”

“Doesn’t really feel that way,” he said. “Here we are, two people going through divorces with grown kids to deal with and... You know. It just happened that way. Neither one of us ran an ad or signed up for online dating.”

“I appreciate the offer,” she said, smiling.

“We’ll run into each other again,” he said. “Meanwhile, hang in there.”

* * *

Father Tim was leaning on his hoe, waiting for Beau in a stance that looked like the old farmer stance, except that Tim was anything but an old farmer. Plus he was grinning mischievously, ready to give Beau the business. “Your friend Lauren is very attractive.”

“Stop looking. You’re supposed to be a priest,” Beau said, lifting his shovel.

“A priest, not a corpse,” he said with a laugh. “Did you notice her eyes are violet?”

“Must be contacts,” Beau said. “No one actually comes with eyes that color.”

“If they’re born from a god and a high priestess.”

“Spread the manure on the ground, Father.”

He had noticed everything about her. He loved the sound of her voice, her easy laughter, her rich and soft brown hair that fell to her shoulders. It was the color of mahogany. He loved her sass when he ran into her at the fund-raiser and noticed that when the subject turned to her husband, her marriage, it sucked the confidence right out of her. She had that lean and strong look, like a thoroughbred. She was tall and she had kind of big feet, but tall women had to have a sturdy base or they’d blow over in the wind. And that thought made him smile secretly.

“You’re seeing her?”

“No. She’s going through a divorce. Or will be soon. No, I haven’t been seeing her. It’s like she said, we met accidentally a couple of times, that’s all.”

“How do you know about the divorce?”

Beau leaned on his shovel. “I told her I was separated. The next time we met she said she’d be in the same spot before long. So here we are, strangers with grown kids, getting divorced...”

“What are her issues?” Tim asked.

“I have no idea, Tim. We’re not close friends.”

“But you want to be,” Tim said, then wisely shut his mouth and turned back to spreading fertilizer.

It was true. He wanted to be. “That was the last thing I was looking for,” Beau said. “Pamela kind of cures you of women. She doesn’t look like the kind of woman who’d make you want to jump off a very tall building, does she? But she’s—”

“Pamela needs help, Beau. She’ll never get it, but she’s so temperamental and narcissistic, she’s not going to function well in a relationship. Medication and counseling could help her but she’s probably not open to that idea.”

“I don’t know if it’s even been suggested,” Beau said. “The mood swings almost killed me. And trying to make herself happy with things—outrageously expensive shoes or purses. And a better man. She always says she’d left the relationship before the man but I don’t think so... Then when the grass isn’t really greener, she comes home.”

Of course Beau had told Tim all this before. Tim had been back four years now, came home to find his closest friend mired in a mess of a marriage with a selfish and manipulative woman.

“But I’ll be forever grateful to Pamela for giving me a chance with those boys,” Beau said. “They’re good boys. When it’s the three of us, when we go camping or fishing or hiking, we have a good time. One who thinks too much and one who lets everything go.”

“Don’t get yourself in a complicated situation with a beautiful woman who’s trying to leave her husband,” Tim said.

“Don’t sin?” Beau asked.

“That’s probably asking a bit much,” Tim said with a laugh. “It’s just that there’s an intensity about Lauren...”

“Well, what would you expect? She’s obviously pretty worried about what’s coming. She asked me how I told the boys. She has to tell her daughters.”

“I know you want to help her,” Tim said. “I’d just like you to remember, Pamela needed support when you met her. She’d just come out of a bad relationship and found you to help her pick up the pieces.”

“Hey, I don’t know this woman, okay? But she doesn’t seem like a Pamela! Manure on the plants, Father.”

“All right. Don’t get testy.”

“I’m not,” Beau said, digging a shovelful of fertilizer out of the split bag.

But he was. He was annoyed because Tim could be absolutely right. When he met beautiful, sexy Pamela, he didn’t see a selfish, impatient, hard-to-please woman with a short attention span. Oh no—he saw a vulnerable and sweet young woman saddled with two hard-to-manage little boys, a woman so grateful to have a good, steady man in her life, a man interested in the parent-teacher conferences. It was a couple of years before he met the other Pamela. Oh, he’d seen hints of her here and there, but they were so fleeting he convinced himself that everyone has their bad days.

Lauren, at first glance, seemed like a good woman with a strong moral compass. She couldn’t meet him even just to have someone to talk to if it could become a distraction, a complication. She wanted to be sure her daughters were informed in the best way of what was coming. She didn’t trash the husband she was leaving, yet it was clear in her eyes and what little she said, she was in a bad situation. When he asked if he hit her, she rubbed her upper arms and said, “No.” She was beautiful. Sweet and sensitive.

And in two years they could be at each other’s throats. She could be railing at him about how dull he was, how uninteresting, how inattentive. He didn’t dance. He had quiet friends. He didn’t want to party. She could be explaining how her life had become unfulfilling, how her needs were not being met...

...how her sex life needed to be recharged.

“There were red flags with Pamela,” Tim said. “You told me all about them, how obvious they were, how you convinced yourself you were overreacting because most of the time things were good. And besides, no one’s perfect. You admit you have failings. In fact, you’re a little too eager to admit your—”

Beau stopped shoveling and stared at his friend. “Stop reading my mind.”

“Sorry,” Tim said. “I wasn’t sure I was.”

“You do it all the time and it pisses me off.”

“I said I was sorry. So, we can count on you for basketball Thursday night?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Father?” a female voice said from the walk. “I’m sorry to interrupt you. I was just wondering...”

“Angela! How wonderful to see you! What brings you to my neighborhood?”

“A fool’s errand, I think. It’s still so early in the spring, but my shelves are bare of the fresh stuff and my clientele could use some greens. It was just a gamble, that you might have some lettuce that came in early.”

“Beau, meet my friend Angela,” Tim said. “She operates a food bank in Oakland. It’s where a lot of our fresh stuff from the garden ends up.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Beau said. He couldn’t help but notice how Tim’s eyes lit up. He also noticed how beautiful the Latina woman was, black hair in a single braid down her back. Beau guessed she was about thirty. Her eyes danced as she was focused more on Tim than Beau. She wore tight jeans with rips in the knees, hoodie tied around her waist. She was lovely. And Tim’s entire mood changed.

“We don’t have anything yet but I’m friendly with the produce manager at the big Safeway. One of my parishioners. Let’s go see if he’s clearing out produce. I bet we’ll get something, no matter what his stock looks like. Let’s go in your car, then you can drop me back here.”

“I knew you’d help if you could,” she said, smiling so beautifully.

“Let’s go then,” he said. He took her elbow to guide her, walked her away from the garden. He leaned down to talk with her and they laughed together.

Tim never looked back at Beau.

“Interesting,” Beau said. Then he proceeded to spread fertilizer.