She and her mother had met Carlynn for lunch earlier that week at a café in Pacific Grove. Her mother had embraced Carlynn tearfully when she saw her, and the three of them had talked about how different they all looked from that day in Rainbow Cabin, so long ago.
Ellen, of course, had been thrilled to learn that Carlynn was using her healing ability on Mara, and even more pleased to know that Liam had agreed to participate.
“He says he will,” Joelle told the two women at lunch, “though I have the feeling he’s doing it out of guilt. Trying to make up to me for what he can’t truly give me.”
“It doesn’t matter why he’s doing it,” Carlynn had said. “Just as long as we can get him there in that room. That’s what will help Mara.”
Liam’s car turned the corner onto her street, and she stood up and walked down the sidewalk to meet him at the curb, very aware of the way the red blouse gently ballooned over her stomach. He stopped the car and she let herself in.
“Hi,” she said, fastening the seat belt.
“Sorry I’m late.” He glanced in the side-view mirror as he pulled into the street again. He looked so good. Pretty, pale eyes, straight nose and slight point to his chin. She tried not to stare. Her body suddenly felt alive and hungry for him. This was the longest she’d gone without seeing him in years, probably since he’d started working at Silas Memorial, and she could barely stand the intense and untimely desire that was ambushing her here in his car.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said, the word a bland mask for the mixture of anger and desire churning inside her. “It feels good to get out.”
“When are you allowed to drive?”
“Probably next week,” she said. “I feel like I could drive now, but since they say five or six weeks, I’ll compromise on four.”
“Good idea,” he said. “They’re talking about five or six for the usual patient. Not someone in…your condition.” He actually smiled when he said those words, giving her hope that her pregnancy would not continue to be the great unbroachable subject.
“How did it go with your mom?” he asked.
“It was really good to be with her,” she said, missing her mother a bit already. “She bought me five thousand different types of vitamins and a few aromatherapy candles and gave me foot massages every night.”
“I’m glad it was a good visit.” He glanced at her, then smiled the smile that put that provocative crevice in his cheek. “You are a really cute pregnant woman,” he said.
She laughed. “Thanks,” she said. That was the warmest thing he’d said to her in ages. “And thanks for doing this, Liam,” she said. “I know you don’t want to.”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a brief nod of his head, acknowledging that she was quite right.
Carlynn met them in the foyer of the nursing home. Liam greeted her with a stiff, but cordial, hello, and Joelle gave her a hug. The older woman felt more frail than ever beneath her arms, as though her bones might crack if she squeezed her too hard. The three of them walked in silence down the corridor to Mara’s room.
Mara was sitting up in bed, getting her face wiped by an aide who had just fed her lunch. She smiled and, when she spotted Liam, let out a little cry of delight. He was first to reach her bed, and he leaned over to kiss her. Mara lifted her right arm up as though trying to hug him, although she could not quite master the maneuver.
“Liam!” Joelle said. “Look at her arm! She’s trying to hug you with it.”
Liam stepped back. “She’s been doing that for the past few weeks. They’ve brought the physical therapist back in to help her work with her arm a bit more.”
Joelle remembered the last time she’d seen Mara with Carlynn, when Mara had appeared to massage the older woman’s palm with her right hand. Was that the day the use of her arm had improved? She didn’t dare suggest that to Liam, at least not right then. She knew he wouldn’t think Carlynn’s visit had anything to do with an improvement in his wife.
“Hi, Mara.” Joelle stepped forward to give her a hug, noticing how Mara’s silky hair brushed against her cheek. “Your hair’s getting longer, sweetie,” she said. “I haven’t been around to cut it in a while, but it looks really pretty. Maybe we should leave it this way. What do you think, Liam?”
He nodded. “I like it,” he said, then he turned to Carlynn. “So, what do we do now?” he asked, the impatience barely concealed in his voice.
Carlynn leaned on her cane in the center of the small room and looked around her, as though trying to make a decision. “Okay,” she said finally. “Here’s what I suggest. Liam, could you see if you could find another chair for in here? Then you and Joelle can sit while I massage Mara’s hands again.”
Liam left the room without a word, and Joelle exchanged a look with Carlynn.
“It’s all right,” Carlynn said, knowing what she was thinking. “He’ll be fine.”
Liam brought back one of the hard, straight-backed chairs from the cafeteria across the hall and set it near the recliner that was next to the bed.
“You take the recliner, Jo,” he said, and she sat down. Then he sat in the smaller chair and looked at Carlynn, waiting for his next instruction.
Carlynn sat on the edge of Mara’s bed, poured baby lotion onto her palm and began to massage Mara’s hands, as she had the last time she’d visited the nursing home with Joelle.
“Joelle and Liam,” she said without looking at them, “please talk about memories you have of your time with Mara. Any situations you can remember that involved the three of you.”
“What’s the point?” Liam asked, and Joelle felt like kicking him.
“I want her to hear you talking about things that involve all three of you that she would also remember, if she were able. We want to stimulate that memory bank in her brain.”
Liam wearily rubbed the back of his head, his eyes closed, and Joelle doubted he was going to put much effort into this exercise. Obviously, it would be up to her to start. Resting her head against the recliner, she stared at the ceiling and thought back over the years to some of the many memories they shared.
“I remember the party Rusty and I gave where I was hoping to fix Mara and Liam up without their knowing it,” she said. She smiled at Liam, and he looked at her. “I remember the exact moment when it clicked for both of them.”
“When?” He looked curious.
“We were all sitting around my living room, remember? And everyone was playing instruments. And you and Mara had your guitars. And you started playing that song…I don’t remember the title…the Joan Baez song that goes, ‘Show me the something, show me the—’”
“‘There But for Fortune,’” Liam said.
“Right. And you were singing, and suddenly Mara started singing and playing the same song, in perfect harmony with you, and you two were looking at each other across the room, and it was like there was this invisible thread connecting you, and neither of you knew anyone else was there. And I was thinking, yes! I just knew once the two of you met it would be like that.”
Pursing his lips, Liam nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “it was a good call on your part. And you were playing a pan and a spoon, right?”
“No, I had the comb and the tissue paper,” she said. “Rusty had the pan and spoon. The instrument of least effort.”
“Rusty was a pill,” Liam said. “It’s good you ditched him.”
“He ditched me,” she said, “but never mind.”
They fell silent, and Joelle glanced at Mara. Her gaze was on Carlynn, and it surprised her that she was not looking at Liam, since he was well within her range. She wasn’t smiling, but her face looked relaxed, as though the massage was soothing her.
“I’ve got one,” Liam said. “Talking about Rusty reminded me of it.”
“Do we have to talk about Rusty?” she asked.
“Remember the time we all went to San Diego for a few days?”
She nodded. “Over Christmas
.”
“Right, and I don’t know where we were, somewhere in San Diego County, I guess, or maybe not, but out in that place you had heard about that had pocket canyons and other strange rock formations and—”
“Oh, no,” she said, starting to laugh as she remembered the hour-long hike that had turned into four rather scary hours.
“You swore you knew where you were going, and we followed you like we trusted you,” Liam said.
“I had a map. It’s just that we got turned around some how.”
“There were those weird hills or dunes or whatever they were. And you kept saying, ‘Our car is parked right over that hill,’ and we’d climb over it, which would take a half hour, and then all we’d see in front of us was…”
“Another hill.” She laughed. “But see? We can laugh about it now.”
“I don’t remember laughing at the time,” Liam said. “I thought Rusty was going to divorce you the moment we actually did find the car.”
“And remember Mara had taken a whole roll of pictures of us goofing around in the pocket canyon and then realized she had no film in her camera?”
Liam laughed. “Oh, I felt so sorry for her.” He leaned over and squeezed Mara’s arm, giving Carlynn a look that said, “Try and stop me,” but Carlynn only smiled at him.
“Do you remember what happened on the beach?” Joelle said. “That same trip. In Coronado, I think. We were lying there and a gull flew over and—”
Liam interrupted her with a groan. “Not my favorite memory,” he said. “Mara wouldn’t kiss me for a week.”
“God, it was funny,” Joelle said.
“Do you remember that E.R. case, where we called Mara in to do a psych consult?” Liam asked.
“Which one?”
“The pregnant woman who was in a car accident and her arm was nearly—”
“Oh, yes!” Joelle started laughing. “Her arm was hanging by a thread, and all she kept saying was that she thought her pierced belly button was infected.”
“I can still hear Mara,” Liam said. “Remember? She went into the treatment room wearing that professional expression she was so good at, and said, ‘Your belly button is fine, but your arm is falling off.”’ He looked at Carlynn, who was not smiling. She appeared to be deeply focused on Mara’s face. Liam shrugged. “I guess you had to be there,” he said, and Joelle chuckled.
“I remember the time we called Mara in for that woman who was using her vagina as a bank,” she said, “and—”
“Don’t go there,” Liam interrupted her with a laugh. He looked at Mara. “Don’t worry, honey, we’re not going there.”
They were quiet for a minute, and Joelle felt gratitude toward him for playing this game. Liam closed his eyes.
After a moment she asked him, “What are you thinking about?”
He took in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “A memory,” he said, opening his eyes. “When you were over at our house, right after you and Rusty split up. And we made you dinner and were consoling you, and then I got that call that my father died.”
His father had been only fifty-nine years old, and he’d simply keeled over at work one day. She could still remember Liam’s shock and sorrow.
Joelle leaned forward and touched his hand, and to her surprise he turned his hand to hold on to hers. His eyes were on her, and he looked beaten down, tired of whatever game it was they were playing. It was time to free him from it.
“Carlynn?” she said. “Can Liam and I stop now?”
Carlynn nodded, stilling her own hands. “Mara?” she said softly, and Mara smiled at them as though she’d forgotten they were there. She lifted her right arm toward Liam. It was an unmistakable, meaningful gesture. That arm had always been usable, but until now Mara had not seemed to know what to do with it. Carlynn stood up, and Liam took her place on the bed.
“Would you like to visit Mara a while longer, Liam?” Carlynn asked. “Quinn and I can drop Joelle off on our way home.”
Liam looked at Joelle. “Do you mind?” he asked.
She shook her head, still moved by the way Mara had reached out to him.
“Next week, Liam, I would like you to bring your guitar, please,” Carlynn asked.
“I don’t play anymore,” Liam said without looking at her.
“Joelle told me that, but I think it’s important,” Carlynn said. “Music can touch so many parts of the mind and heart in a way that nothing else can. So bring it, please.”
In the corridor outside Mara’s room, Joelle said quietly. “I don’t know if he will.”
“I hope he does,” Carlynn said. “I think it can make a difference.”
They walked together down the hallway, and Joelle could still feel the grip of Liam’s fingers on her hand and recall the way he’d looked at her. The moment had been brief, a mere few seconds, but she hadn’t felt that close to him in months.
28
CARLYNN SAT ON THE VERY EDGE OF THE TERRACE FLOOR LOOKING out at the sea. She hadn’t sat this way, with her legs dangling over the terrace’s stone floor, in a very long time. Probably not since she was a child. She could feel the cold of the stone through the fabric of her slacks, and the sensation was not unpleasant. It let her know she was still alive.
“Carlynn?”
She glanced behind her to see Mary McGowan walking toward her from the house.
“Hello, Mary,” she said.
“It gave me a start to see you sitting out here like this,” Mary said as she neared her. “Are you all right? Can I get you something?”
“I’m fine,” Carlynn said. “And no, you can’t get me anything, thank you. But why don’t you sit down here with me for a bit?”
“On the cold ground like that?” Mary sounded a bit stunned at the suggestion.
“Yes. Come on.” Carlynn waved her hand through the air in invitation. “My sister and I used to sit like this all the time when we were children.”
“Not sure I can get down that low.” Mary laughed, but Carlynn knew she would be able to. She’d seen Mary scrub the kitchen floor on her hands and knees more than once.
“Come on,” Carlynn said again, reaching toward her. “I’ll give you a hand.”
Mary held on to Carlynn’s hand and gingerly lowered herself to the edge of the terrace, letting her own legs and her sensible shoes dangle over the side.
“How are we ever going to get up?” Mary chuckled.
“We’ll worry about that later,” Carlynn said. She’d given that some thought herself. She lived in a house of old people.
“Ah,” Mary said, looking out to sea. “This is beautiful. I feel closer to the water down here.”
“And the trees,” Carlynn said. She studied the milky horizon, where the overcast sky and frothy sea met in an indistinct line. “I was thinking before,” she said. “Thinking about the perennials.”
“The perennials?” Mary asked.
Carlynn nodded. “I realized this was probably the last year I’d ever see them.”
“Oh, Carlynn.” Mary gently touched her shoulder.
“Don’t feel bad,” Carlynn said. “I don’t. But it was just a shock to realize that. I wish I’d paid better attention to them over the summer.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment. “I know Alan’s worried about you,” Mary said finally. “He doesn’t think you should be going to that nursing home, seeing that brain-damaged girl.”
“Well, he’s wrong about that,” Carlynn said.
“How is she doing? The girl with the brain damage?”
Carlynn smiled to herself. “She’s at peace,” she said. “Smiles all the time. She’s not the one who needs healing.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s Joelle and Liam who need to be healed, though they don’t realize it yet.”
“Who’s Liam?” Mary asked.
Carlynn watched a pelican fly through her cypress-framed view of the ocean. “He’s a man whose forgotten how to make music in his life,” she said
. “And he’s also the man Joelle is in love with.” She looked squarely at Mary. “And he’s the husband of Mara, the brain-damaged woman.”
“Oh,” Mary said with a knowing nod, and Carlynn heard the understanding in that simple word. Mary knew all about forbidden love, love that must remain hidden.
Just as she did.
29
San Francisco, 1962
CARLYNN STEPPED INTO THE HOSPITAL ROOM, WHERE THE LITTLE boy lay in the bed nearest the window. The room was dark, except for a low-wattage lamp on the boy’s night table, and his mother sat in a chair near his bed. Carlynn did not know this child or his mother, but she’d received a call early that morning from the doctor treating the seven-year-old boy, asking for a consult. Carlynn had a reputation as a gifted pediatrician. No one, save Alan, understood the depth of that gift, but she was called on regularly by her colleagues to see their patients who were difficult to diagnose and harder still to treat.
She and Alan shared a practice in their office on Sutter Street, where Carlynn specialized in children, while Alan saw adults. There was crossover, of course. A great deal of it, actually, because Alan often called her in to “meet” one of his patients, in the hope that such a meeting would lead him to a better course of treatment through Carlynn’s intuitive sense of the patient. It was gratifying work, something she seemed born to do. Still, she was not completely happy. All day, every day, she treated the children of other people, when what she longed for was a child of her own.
A year ago, Alan had learned he was sterile. They would never be able to have children unless they adopted, and neither of them was ready or willing to take that step. Carlynn had wondered briefly if she might be able to use her healing skills to make Alan fertile again, but she didn’t want to subject him to being a guinea pig, and he did not offer.
The news that they would remain childless had thrown Carlynn into a mild depression, which she’d attempted to mask so that Alan would feel no worse than he already did. What kept her going, what still brought her joy, was her continued fascination with the nature of her gift. She spent her days pouring her energy into her patients, but at night she was exhausted and often went to bed early, and she knew that Alan worried about her.