“I’ll walk you,” he said. But he didn’t just walk alongside. He took her elbow and steered her in that direction. Out of the spotlight, at least. “I’m really bothered by something. When are things going to be easy again between us?”
“Aren’t they?” she countered, knowing that once again she was faking. There was an unmistakable edge to her voice.
“Seems like we’d run into each other a lot more than we have lately. And when we do, it’s a little tight. Tense. Am I imagining that?” he asked.
Chris. He always had been smooth. Even when he was just a kid.
“One of the things I’m most grateful for,” he went on, “is that everything here is the same. Undisturbed. Even the new businesses haven’t seemed to upset the balance of things. The town looks the same. The people are the same, except maybe a few years older. Even the trails, back roads and farms are just like they were when I left. The only thing that’s different is me and you. I mean, the way you are with me.” He stopped in the street, forcing her to stop too, and looked into her eyes. “Is there anything I can do to make things flow a little better between us?”
A memory was awakened in her. Before they were boyfriend and girlfriend, before they were young lovers talking about marriage, they had been best friends. June, Chris and Tom—and sometimes Greg Silva, when he didn’t have to help on his dad’s farm. They had played hard, camped out, trusted each other and talked about crucial things—their fantasies for the future, their fears and problems and deepest desires. Once they had all cut their hands and became blood brothers, forgetting June was the girl.
Was he still someone she could talk to?
She sighed in defeat. “Okay, I admit it,” she said. “You disrupted me by coming back. Especially the way you came blundering into my life asking if we could try again. Jesus.”
“Disrupted, huh?” he asked, grinning from ear to ear. “I bet you wanted to kill me.”
“Kill?” She laughed slyly. “Don’t be silly, Chris. Death was too good for you.”
“Aha!” he shouted as though victorious. He spread his hands wide. “The lady admits to violent thoughts! I knew it!”
“Well, I’m pretty much over those fantasies red with your blood, but I might still be a little tense. I don’t think that’s too unreasonable. I think it’s going to take some time.”
The look that came over his face was like sheer bliss. Incredible relief blushed with deep happiness. “God, that takes a load off my mind. I know I don’t deserve much consideration, but it hurt to think you might never forgive me. What would I do if I lost you forever, June-bug?”
I would know how that feels better than you, came to her mind. But she didn’t say it. Instead she walked on toward the clinic. She always preferred to hold her tongue for the sake of peace rather than speak up and risk discord. She was never sure whether this was a virtue or a character flaw. Am I of generous spirit or a big fat chicken, she asked herself. Again, his hand was on her arm, steering her through the darkness.
“There were plenty of times over the years that I fantasized about what it would be like when I came back, but I honestly didn’t know if I’d ever have the guts to do it. I left a lot behind, you know.”
Not the least of which was a wife, she thought. But again, silence.
“I had my own little neighborhood insurance office. Fortunately, Bob Hanson over in Rockport is going to let me into his shop.”
His hand on her elbow actually felt good. What was that about? Just more of that loneliness creeping into the picture? She said, “Job, house, school for the kids. You’re just about all set, aren’t you?”
“I thought I’d put up a little booth during the harvest festival. Bob hasn’t done that in the past, but he thinks it’s a good idea.”
“I agree. How are the boys liking it here?”
“So far they love it. They haven’t had this kind of freedom in their young lives. Where we lived in San Diego they were limited to the neighborhood, park and school. Here, it’s like all of Grace Valley is open to them.”
“Like it was for us” she heard herself say.
“It was a great way to grow up, wasn’t it, June-bug? We sure can’t complain of the childhood we had in this town.”
“It’s not a bad adulthood, either.”
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how is it you didn’t get married?”
She laughed hollowly. “Who was I going to marry, you nitwit?”
“Well, hell, you were away at school for about ten years. Didn’t they have men where you were?”
“Yeah, they had men there, but do you have any idea what medical school is like? Or internship and residency?” They reached her truck and she stopped. Be fair, she told herself. Getting along is better than being bitter. “Actually, I had a couple of close calls. But in the end, neither of them would have wanted to come here with me, and this was exactly where I’ve always wanted to be.”
“That’s true, huh?” he said as if he’d just remembered. “There were lots of kids we went to school with, farmers’ kids and loggers’ kids especially, who couldn’t wait to shake the dust of this dumpy little town off the soles of their shoes, but you always said this was the only place you ever wanted to live. So, you couldn’t find a small-town type to fall in love with?”
She shrugged. “There weren’t a whole lot of med students who just couldn’t wait to move to a tiny little burgh where they’d be paid in vegetables or eggs. But for me, it’s the perfect life. Most of the time.” She opened her truck door. “I’d better get home, Chris. I’ve had a long day. I was up at 5:00 a.m. burning up a cake.”
“What?”
She shook her head in exasperation. “Long story. The phone rang, I got distracted, I was baking a cake for quilting, and—”
“Little accident?”
“Big smell. I left all the windows open to air the place out. I hope I don’t find Mama and Papa Bear eating porridge in my house. Where is that dog? Sadie!” she called. She gave a whistle and was immediately rewarded by the sound of Sadie’s tags jingling. “Good girl,” she said as the collie jumped in.
Chris put a hand on June’s shoulder. “Well, look,” he said, kind of stumbling. “Thanks for giving me, you know, a few minutes. I just couldn’t stand the thought that we wouldn’t be, well, good friends at least. You know?”
“I know,” she said.
“For now, anyway.” He leaned toward her to give her a friendly hug and peck on the cheek, but once he got close, he slowed way down. Hovered. His lips against her cheek, his hand on her shoulder. Cautiously and slowly, he slid his lips around to hers, his hand moving from her shoulder to her chin to lift her face to meet his.
She would ask herself later why she allowed this, for to lead Chris on would be a huge mistake, with him in this condition of wanting a second chance with her. But she was curious, and okay, lonely. What could it hurt to kiss him to be sure she didn’t feel anything for him anymore? Absolutely sure?
But she felt something. She wasn’t sure what it was. Perhaps memory, perhaps longing, perhaps vulnerability to the old boyfriend, or maybe she was just a cheap hussy who couldn’t resist the most attractive, single bachelor the town had to offer at the moment.
Damn, she thought, kissing him back. Some things never change, and Chris’s lips had not. He had always had great, soft lips that moved familiarly over hers. If her life weren’t so complicated right now, it would be very easy to fall back into a routine with him. This was just what she remembered, and it felt good. But with the good-feeling kiss came the memory of what kind of boyfriend he’d been. When he tried to part her lips with his, she pulled back.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and immediately thought why am I sorry? “I shouldn’t have let you do that because…well, you know. I don’t want to have a romantic, you know—” She stammered and stuttered and couldn’t spit it out. “I was just curious. Curious, not interested. Think of it as…old time’s sake.”
He grinned do
wn at her, but she could see in his smile that he thought he’d scored one. “It’s okay, June-bug. Don’t be sorry. I’m sure not sorry.”
“Chris, listen, you mustn’t think—”
“Hey, don’t worry! I’m a patient guy!”
“But—”
She was cut off by the lights from a vehicle that was heading straight at them. There was a loud whoop and the police SUV pulled up. Ricky Rios rolled down the window. “Mr. Forrest? Chris? You have any idea where your boys might be?”
“At home, brushing their teeth and getting ready for bed, I hope. At my folks’.”
“Well, sir, your mom thinks they might’ve come in the front door and gone right out the back.”
“Damn the little shits. Is she worried about them? They probably just—”
“No sir, she didn’t call me, I went by the house. Someone was egging some houses over on Fourth Street. The back door to Burt’s bakery is jimmied open and it’s just a half block from Judge and Birdie’s, and—”
“Okay, Ricky, let’s see if we can rein ’em in,” Chris said, walking around the SUV to the passenger side. “Little devils sure can find plenty of trouble in just thirty minutes, can’t they? Bye, June. I’ll catch you later.”
There will be no catching, she thought. “Good luck,” was what she said.
June woke up earlier than usual the next morning, and the very first thing on her mind was that she had kissed Chris while she was seriously involved with Jim. Why had she let that happen? Was it because no one knew about Jim? Was it because he was invisible to everyone but her? and second, mystical—almost nonexistent?
But if she examined her feelings for Jim, they were bold. She was pretty sure she was in love with him.
The hell of it was, with Chris she had history, and with Jim, uncertainty. With Chris there was unfinished business, and it was high time there be closure. With Jim there was hope, but it was clouded by distance and time.
She sat up and shook her head. Maybe it was a good thing that she had to deal with the Chris issue, before she made a permanent commitment to Jim. It gave her a little time. Though she hadn’t pined over Chris all these years—her first love, her first broken heart—he had never been very far from her thoughts. But now she had time to reckon with this issue once and for all, close it out, be sure she was done with that whole thing. She would be smart; this would finally be over.
She showered and dressed, though it was not yet dawn. The prospect of beating everyone else to the clinic appealed to her. She wanted to think, undisturbed and undistracted, about the kind of life she wanted. She couldn’t help but feel, deep down, that she was on the threshold of a new beginning. And she did her best thinking while alone at the clinic.
To say she had a special feeling about the place was an understatement. When she had come back to Grace Valley, her dad was still practicing out of his house, and that’s where she began her work in the valley. But the little country doctor’s office in his home was not even close to accommodating the growing population. Elmer had been thinking of moving his practice over to Rockport, near the hospital;
June’s idea was build the clinic. She’d been dreaming of just such a clinic for the town for as long as she’d been studying medicine. And the town rallied to support the construction, each person in whatever way possible, no matter how slim their means. Free tile for the floor, a little gratis construction work, donated supplies, a few dollars tossed into the hat. In the end it was Aunt Myrna who secured the building loan and guaranteed it. She also bought the ambulance after June wrecked her Jeep on a dangerous curve while out on an emergency call. Myrna was loaded. And how loaded only she knew for sure.
When June pulled into town, she noticed that the café was already open—a good hour early. And next, with a bit of disappointment, she saw that she wasn’t the first to arrive at the clinic. The ambulance was already parked outside at this predawn hour. The building was dark, however, and when June and Sadie got to the back door, she found it locked.
She opened the door and flipped on the hall light. “John?” she called, but there was no answer. The first room to her right contained two beds and functioned as a recovery room for patients who had outpatient procedures that required sedatives or local anesthesia. The other rooms held examining tables and gurneys. In one of the beds, sleeping in his clothes, was John Stone. He must have had a patient in the middle of the night and decided not to go all the way back home, June reasoned.
She glanced at her watch; it was almost five-thirty. Since George had the café open and her stomach was growling, she decided John could probably also use a cup of coffee and a treat. June and Sadie beat a quiet retreat.
The clinic had a coffeepot, of course, but it wasn’t used very often because June’s ritual was to walk across the street where her coffee and morning pastry were always free, a custom that brought George much pleasure. He would let her pay for lunch and dinner, but he took care of the doctors, the law and the clergy. And they took care of him.
“George?” she called. She heard some clamor in the back, behind the grill.
“Morning, June, morning, Sadie,” he called. “It’ll be a minute ’fore she’s brewed.”
“What are you doing here so early?”
He grunted angrily. “Some little heathens threw eggs at the front window. Ricky Rios was doing his drive through town, spotted the mess and called me. He figured I’d want to get it washed off before the start of business, which I did. That’s the second time.”
“No way!” June exclaimed, then remembered the night before. “George, do you have any idea who—”
“I’ve got a pretty good idea, considering we ain’t never had that kind of trouble around town before those two little hellions and their daddy moved up here from San Diego.”
“I wonder, does Chris know?”
“Don’t think there’s much mystery about that. He knows. He just don’t take it too seriously. But he will. Because if I catch ’em, I’ll see ’em arrested.”
All June could think was poor Birdie. No wonder she was looking so tired. They weren’t just a handful, they were bad!
“Little bit early for you, isn’t it?” George asked.
“It is. I was awake before five. And John’s already in, so I’ll take him a cup and whatever pastry he likes.”
“He usually favors the bismark. Let me get your bear claws. You all running a special today or something?” George asked, going back behind the grill while the coffee perked.
“No, I just couldn’t sleep and John was on call last night. He must have had a patient at the clinic—he’s conked out on one of the beds.” June sniffed the air. “George, what is that awful smell?”
George peeked around the counter, his face wrinkled in question. “Smell?”
June put a hand on her stomach. “Blllkkkk! What is that? It’s putrid.”
“I’m just frying up a little bacon, is all. I thought I’d beat the rush, have some breakfast.”
“You’d better check that bacon or I’m going to be treating you for food poisoning later today. I think it’s gone bad.”
George sniffed. “Smells okay to me, June. You sure?”
“I have a good nose,” she said. “Is that coffee ready yet? Can you cheat the pot so I can get out of here?”
“Sure thing, June,” he said, hurrying back around the grill. “Gee, it sure don’t smell that bad to me. But if you think so, I’ll pitch it and start again.”
“Do yourself a favor,” she said. She took her coffees and sweets and got out of the café before she turned green. George made a mean pie, but he’d never been much of a cook. Passable was all.
She went into the room where John slept. She sat on the stool between the two beds, her tray of coffees and pastries on her lap. She hadn’t turned on the light; she didn’t want to startle him awake. The only light in the room came from the hall.
He opened one eye and peered at her.
“Late night?”
 
; He groaned and pulled the blanket over his head.
“I brought you coffee and a bismark. George said that’s your usual. He’s frying up roadkill over there and it stinks to high heaven, so be glad you got room service.”
John groaned again and slowly came to a sitting position. Known for his GQ good looks, John was rumpled, bristly and his hair was spiky.
“Gee, you don’t look that great first thing in the morning, do you?” she observed.
He reached for a cup of coffee, took a sip and scratched his head.
“So,” she said, “who was in?”
“In where?” he asked.
“Here. What brought you to the clinic?”
He looked at her with a hard, level stare. “I was tired of the lumps on my couch.”
Her mouth fell open. “No way!” she said when she’d recovered. There were tiffs and then there were tiffs. “Haven’t you two made up yet?”
“We have brief cease-fires. Then I try opening my mouth again.”
“Jesus, John! You must have really stepped in it good!”
“You can’t imagine…” He sipped his coffee again.
“What the hell did you say?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “It’s just that, when I try to address the subject of women and work, work and women, I screw it up so bad, it’s to the point now that I’m lucky to be alive.” He reached for the bismark, held it with the napkin it came in and took a bite. Red jellied filling bubbled to the top. “I tried a new approach. Guess how this one worked. ‘Susan,’” he quoted, “’I don’t want you to have to endure the stress of working outside the home. I want to take care of you. I want you to have everything I can give you and I don’t want you to worry about all the pressures of a medical career.’”
June leaned forward on her stool, astonished. She frowned. “John, you didn’t say ‘worry your pretty little head,’ did you? Because I’d be picking shot out of your butt, if you had.”
He sighed in helplessness. “I might as well have.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “God, are you stupid. ‘I don’t want you to have to worry about being an adult, dear,’” she mocked. “‘Just let Daddy do all the worrying and you just rest your teeny, tiny little brain.’” John frowned. The deeper his frown, the harder she laughed. “‘And while you rest your teeny little brain, do you mind doing the housework, laundry, shopping, ironing, cooking, landscaping, child care. And could you manage the budget, write to my parents and get the car repaired? Thanks, and don’t fret, honey. I’ll worry about the important things.’” She howled. She thought she was extremely funny.