Twenty-Eight

“Wow, that’s a cool car. Who is that?” Caroline looked out the front window then back at me.

I peeked over her shoulder at a bright yellow two-seat convertible in our driveway. “No idea. Likely someone at the wrong house. Now quit stalling and let’s get back to your homework.”

I had already turned my attention back to Caroline’s math when the doorbell rang. I opened the door to see a bone-thin woman with tanning-bed dark skin and bottle-blond hair that was roughly the texture of straw. The semi-vacant expression in her eyes and the sandpaper texture of her face made her look like one of the homeless I might see in downtown Santa Barbara, except this woman was driving a nice convertible. “Can I help you?”

“You don’t remember me, do you?” Her voice was just a tad slurred.

I didn’t remember her, but after she asked the question, there did seem to be a hint of something familiar. I noticed then that she had a plate of chocolate chip cookies in her hands, and deduced that she must have been at one of the recent seminars. “I’m sorry, I’m terrible with names and faces. Would you remind me?” I still wasn’t fully convinced that this lady didn’t have the wrong house, but I wanted to be at least polite, just in case.

“I’m Sheila Marshall. You know, Chris’s mother and … Kevin’s wife.”

Did I just imagine it, or did she say those last two words with a bit of added volume? “Oh, Sheila, hi. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has. And how are you, young lady?”

I looked down to see Caroline standing right behind me, curiously watching this scene. “Caroline, get back to your homework.” Whatever it was that had brought Sheila Marshall here, I was pretty sure I didn’t want Caroline to be any part of it.

“Aw, Mom.”

“Wait just a second, young lady. If you’re going to study, you need to keep up your energy. Here, why don’t you take these?”

Caroline’s eyes locked on the tray of chocolate chip cookies. “Wow, thanks!”

I looked at Sheila Marshall, still concerned as to what this visit was all about. “Caroline, go put those on the counter in the kitchen for now.”

“Can I have just one?”

“Not until after dinner.”

“Come on, I didn’t have my usual treat after school.”

There was no way I was going to let my child eat anything from this woman’s hand until I found out exactly what was going on. “Caroline, I’m not going to argue with you about this. Put them on the counter for now and we’ll talk about it later.”

Caroline walked away mumbling under her breath. There would be time to deal with her attitude later. For now, I needed to find out what was going on. “Thank you so much for the cookies. As you can see, you’ve made my daughter’s day.” I smiled at her and waited, hoping that she would explain exactly why she had done this.

She seemed to sway a little on her feet. “When Chris pulled out those pictures, I just realized that we haven’t done enough for you after what happened to the boys. We should have been more supportive. I told Kevin just that very thing this morning.” She looked directly at me, and even though her eyes were obviously a little unfocused, I wondered if I saw something like anger or defiance in there. I couldn’t be sure.

I suppose the polite thing to do would have been to invite her in, but I wanted to be just polite enough to not offend, while getting her out of there as quickly as possible. “I’m just glad that Chris is all right.”

“If you consider walking like a cripple all right, then yeah, I guess he is.” She shook her head once as if to clear the cobwebs. “Sorry, I know we should be grateful. Life is just so hard sometimes.”

A jingling sound came from somewhere inside her purse. “Just a minute.” She reached inside and pulled out a cell phone, which she flipped open and stuck to her ear. “Hey.” I could hear a man’s voice muffling from the receiver, but I couldn’t hear what he said. She made a face, then smiled up at me, sweetly. “Funny you should ask, because I’m in Santa Barbara. In fact, right now I’m standing on the front porch of Alisa Stewart’s house. I thought maybe I’d do something nice for her, too.”

The muffled voice was louder now and it sounded angry, but I still couldn’t make out the words. I looked toward Caroline, who was making no pretense of doing homework. She was sitting on the floor, her books opened on the coffee table, eyes locked on what was unfolding at the door.

“Yeah, I’m on my way home right now.” She stabbed the power button on her phone. “I’ve got to go. I just wanted to let you know that I’m thinking of you, that’s all.” She sauntered to her car, hopped in, and disappeared down the road.

“What was that all about?” Caroline asked.

“I really have no idea. Now, let’s get back to homework.”

A few minutes later I made up an excuse to go into the kitchen. I picked up the plate of cookies and threw them in the trash. I wasn’t sure what Sheila Marshall was or wasn’t up to, but I wasn’t taking any chances with my family.

I thought about what poor Kevin must live with on a normal basis. He worked so hard; it must be awful to come home to someone so unstable. Somewhere during the course of the evening my thoughts turned to how nice it would be to spend time with someone like him. Sheila had no idea how good she had it. I wondered if Kevin thought the same thing about Rick. Did he think Rick should appreciate me more?

I tried to stop the train of thoughts, but they just kept barreling down the track. He said he’d stop by this week. I’d never before spent any serious time thinking about any man other than Rick. I’d always stopped those kinds of thoughts when they started. It occurred to me then that over the course of the last few weeks, deception had begun to get easier than it used to be.

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An hour later, when the phone rang, I was right in the middle of chopping veggies for a salad. I decided to let it go to voice mail, but I looked at the caller ID just in case.

Kevin Marshall.

I scooped the phone off the counter while little white pieces of onion dropped from my hands to the floor. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Kevin.”

“How are you?”

“I’m fine, but I called to tell you how sorry I am about Sheila’s visit.”

What was I supposed to say to this? That I appreciated the cookies that she made? That I understood now more than ever why he could relate with my grief so well? I finally decided to go with, “No problem. It was good to see her again.”

“Yeah, I’ll just bet. Anyway, she’s pretty stirred up about some things right now, including the fact that I’ve been through Santa Barbara a couple of times recently. And one of the guys at the garage mentioned the fact that you got your oil changed. She’s a little fired up about it.”

I started to say that it was all innocent and I would talk to her, but it would have been a lie and we both knew it. “I’m sorry that my visit caused you so much trouble.”

“Your visit was great, and Sheila is always looking for some kind of trouble or other. The only thing is, I’d told you I’d probably stop by to check on you this week, and I didn’t want you to think I was lying to you. It’s just that … I probably need to stay close to home for a few days.”

“I understand. No problem.”

“I’m hoping to make it up there next week. If I do, I’ll call you.”

“Great. Hope to see you then.”

I hung up the phone, half of me torn with sadness that I wouldn’t get to see one of the few remaining bright spots in my life right now. The other part, the part riddled with guilt, told me that Sheila may have just saved me from doing something I’d regret the rest of my life.

Leaving Yesterday
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