Chasing Sunsets Part 30

As Rosa entered the house she'd practically called her second home during our childhood, I closed the door and then followed her into the living room. "It looks so different," she said. She dropped her purse-a real-deal Dooney and Bourke if I'd ever seen one-onto an end table, crossed her arms, and allowed her eyes to give the room the once-over.

"It does, doesn't it?"

She walked past me to take closer notice of a seash.e.l.l wreath on the far side of the room. The scent of expensive perfume trailed behind her, making me suddenly aware of just how well-dressed she was in comparison to the JCPenney's shorts set and insect bite ointment I'd donned earlier. "The work of your stepmother?" she asked. She looked over her shoulder at me. "The whole makeover, I mean?"

"Yes."

"A get-rid-of-the-former-wife sweep?" She turned back to the wreath.

"I'm not sure I'd say it that way, but I do think Anise wanted a place that didn't have Mom written all over it."

Rosa turned fully to me then and jutted her thumb toward the wreath. "This is kind of tacky, though, isn't it?"

I couldn't help but laugh, even in my uneasiness about Rosa's visit. "Well, that was Heather's gift when Anise had finished redecorating."

"Heather?" Rosa strolled back to her purse and then, without another word, casually slipped one ankle behind the other and dropped into the chair beside the table. "How is Heather? I haven't seen her in . . . forever." She smiled at me, and her expression indicated I should feel free to sit as well.

I took a seat on my father's sofa. "Heather is . . . good."

Rosa's smile turned almost sardonic. "My mother told me that-some time ago-Dr. Claybourne had suggested she might be drinking too much." She c.o.c.ked her head. "Is she?"

"Dad told Eliana about Heather?" I ran my fingertips through my hair, from the forehead back, and felt it as it instantly slipped back into place. "I would say I'm surprised, but with what Dad has told me about his and Mom's history with your mom, I guess it makes sense."

Rosa's lips pursed. "And what did Dr. Claybourne say, exactly, about my mother?"

I cupped my hands around my knees and allowed my eyes to focus on the action rather than the woman sitting so close to me, the one I'd happily grown up with and now felt to be only a menacing stranger. "That she was . . . instrumental in helping with my mother."

"You mean when Joan was drinking so much."

My head jerked up; my eyes locked with hers. "You know about that?"

"Mom told me all about it."

"When?"

"After Joan died." She shrugged. "Your father came by Mom's shortly afterward. They spent hours together, talking. I'm sure about everything that happened . . . back then."

I leaned over, replaced my hands with my elbows, and said, "What else did she say? Your mom?"

Rosa shook her head dismissively as her lashes fell and rose as though in slow motion. "No more than that, really. Any other questions I had were shooed away. But . . . Dr. Claybourne continued to . . . employ my mother, as you know. And I know, because of that, they talked from time to time . . . It was never just about the business of this house, you know. They were friends."

"I know."

"And Mom had some really nice things to say about your stepmother too."

I smiled. "Anise is hard not to like. She's been good for Dad." When Rosa had no response, I added, "Manny seems like a nice man."

"He's the best." The answer came almost too quickly.

Silence fell hard in the room. "So why are you here, then, Rosa?"

Rosa's chest rose as she inhaled. I scarcely noticed her releasing the breath. "I want to talk with you about Steven Granger."

I straightened. "What about him?"

"Just how serious are you, chica?"

Chica . . . I smiled. "He's asked me to stay the summer."

"And are you?"

"Yes. Dad and Anise will be here sometime next month. My sons too, so we'll all be here and, hopefully . . . Why do you ask?"

I watched as her tongue slipped from between her lips, ran along the lower to moisten it. The matte mahogany lipstick s.h.i.+mmered in the sunlight, and I couldn't help but think how different the girl-short and skinny and awkward-was from the sophisticated, voluptuous adult. "I think you should rethink your relations.h.i.+p with Steven."

I felt my brow furrow. "What? Why would you say such a thing?"

"Because there are things you don't know. Not only because of how wrapped up you were in him when we were children but also because you haven't been here . . . in Cedar Key . . . for some time."

My breathing became shallow. "Like what?"

She shrugged. "Where do you want me to start, chica?"

I felt white-hot anger pinging from one side of my brain to the other. "Just tell me what you came to tell me, Rosa."

"Very well, then. Steven Granger is known as a player on this island. Did you know that?"

I didn't answer.

"I see from your lack of response that you didn't. Because the Kimberly I knew wouldn't be so foolish as to share her man, at least not knowingly."

The knot in my throat had started to grow, but I managed to find my voice around it. "Define 'player'?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "I bet you can't name an unmarried woman on this island who he hasn't dated and discarded once he's gotten what he's wanted from her. Oh, he's suave, all right. When he wants what he wants. But when he gets what he gets, he's . . ." Rosa flicked the fingers of her right hand as though she were pus.h.i.+ng a nagging insect again. "Bye-bye, baby."

I shook my head. "That doesn't sound right," I whispered. "It doesn't sound like the man I've gotten to know since I've been here."

She shrugged the shoulder again. "And just how long have you been here? Never mind, don't answer that. We both know the answer." Her brows arched. "It's fine if you don't believe me, if you think you know him so well." She reached for her purse. "Go ahead. Keep seeing him. Find out for yourself."

I reached out a hand as though to stop her from leaving, or at least from appearing to leave. "Wait. How do I know you're telling the truth? Why, exactly, should I believe you over Steven?"

"I can answer that with one simple name. Brigitte Granger."

I raised my chin against the reminder. "He's explained all that to me," I said.

Rosa rolled her eyes. "All right then. Allow me to give you another name." She smiled. "Rosa Rivera."

I s.h.i.+fted until my back hit the sofa. "What are you talking about?"

She raised her perfectly manicured index finger. The nail looked like a claw. "Do you remember that time when we were on Atsena Otie, when you tried to get me to tell you who I was seeing?"

I shook my head. Of course I remembered, but I refused to believe what she was saying.

"It was Steven Granger I was seeing, chica." She crossed her arms. "And I would have married him too, had Brigitte not gotten pregnant." A half-smile returned to her lips. "Before I did."

I stood. "I don't believe you, Rosa."

Rosa raised herself ever so gracefully from the chair. She took her purse by the strap and draped it over one arm before lowering her eyes and saying, "Yes, you do, Kimberly. Right now, your heart is wrestling with your head because you do believe me." The eyes came back to rest on mine. "Take time to think about it. You and I were like sisters so long ago. We share so much. More than you know."

"And what does that mean?"

She didn't answer right away. Finally, her chest fell and she said, "It means, we both loved and we both lost the same man." Her fingertips grazed her chest, just below the strands of multi-colored crystal beads wrapped around her throat. "Now, I have married and moved on, so I have no reason to care about his present day antics. But you . . . Boo . . . you have a lot at stake. And now that I know your sons will be here, exposed to Steven Granger, a possible father figure . . . I have sons too, you know." She walked toward me, placed a gentle kiss on my cheek, and said, "Lo siento mucho, chica." As I stood unmoving, she glanced at her oversized watch and said, "I'll show myself out. Luis and Fe will be here any minute, I'm sure."

And with that, she walked out of my father's house.

I managed to collect myself long enough to greet Luis and his younger sister Fe and to show them where Anise kept the cleaning supplies, the vacuum, broom, and mop. "I won't stay underfoot," I said, my voice shakier than I desired. "I'm sure you know what you're doing."

"I'll start stripping sheets, Luis," Fe said. "Nice to meet you," she said to me before making her way down the hall.

Luis, however, lagged behind, looked on me with his piercing dark eyes, and said, "What's wrong, chica?"

I shook my head. "Nothing." But even to my own ears, it wasn't convincing.

He jutted his chin toward the door. "My cousin. Did she say something? Do something to upset you?"

"No." I cleared my throat. "Listen, I just need to run next door to check on the lady who lives there." I started to walk toward the door, then turned. "First, I need my purse."

Luis smiled, but his eyes remained somber. "If there is anything I can do . . ."

I had no reason to trust the man. After all, he was Rosa's cousin. Even though he had known her when she claimed to have dated Steven, I couldn't say for sure that he'd be honest with me. For all I knew, the two of them were in cahoots. She'd possibly planned all along to come here immediately before Luis was to arrive.

I smiled at him weakly as I pa.s.sed him on the way to the front door. "I'll be back shortly. Before you're finished." I reached for the door handle, but my hand shook so, I struggled with opening it. I dropped my hand, squeezed it into a tight fist, then flexed it. I attempted to open the door a second time, this time successfully. "Oh," I said turning toward Luis. "If you hear scratching at the door, it's my dog, Max. He's allowed inside."

"Sure, chica," he said.

I closed the door behind me. My legs quivered as I took each step toward the sh.e.l.l-covered ground below. I clenched my purse's strap so tight I felt my fingernails digging into the pad of my palm. If I drew blood, I thought, I wouldn't care.

I walked across the lawn to Patsy's, climbed the stairs, and knocked on her door. I took in a ragged breath and blew it out ever so slowly before she answered. "Why, hon," she said with her first look at me. "Whatever is the matter?"

"Patsy," I said. "I'm sorry to bother you but . . . I need advice." I swallowed. "G.o.dly advice from a woman who is wiser than I."

"Come on in," she said, stepping back. "And I'll see if I can't fill that order."

After making sure Patsy was feeling all right, I briefed her on what Rosa had told me. We sat at her kitchen table-a favorite place for her, it seemed to me. I gripped the sweating gla.s.s of iced tea she'd poured for me and stared at my fingers as I spoke. When I was done, she said, "Have you asked your young man about it?"

I looked up at her. "I don't know if I can, Patsy."

"I don't know if you can't." She pointed an age-marked finger at me. "Many an argument I would have saved myself from having with my beloved if I had just asked instead of presumed."

I shook my head. "I'm falling in love with him again." Tears burned the back of my eyes. "How could she have done this to me?"

"Done what, child? Lay down with a boy all those years ago or come now to tell you about it?"

I had to think before I answered. Finally, I said, "Both."

"Well, now," she said. "There's no accounting for the foolish things we do when we are young and impulsive."

"Did you, Patsy? Did you ever do anything impulsive when you were young?"

"Did you?" she countered.

I thought back to that summer when I'd done everything within my power to make Steven mine and about the times I'd worked so hard to trick Mom. "Of course."

"We all do. I did, you did." She smiled. "And I'd be willing to bet your sons will and your grandchildren will too. This is the time of life when we test the waters, so to speak. We push against the boundaries just to see if they'll budge."

I smiled at her. "I can hardly imagine you doing that, Patsy." Then I shook my head. "And I surely don't want to think about my boys . . ." I sighed. "But I suppose they will."

"Well, now, I don't know what your boys may get into, but I can tell you that I got into plenty. I was angry and untrusting and-being that-I almost lost my Gilbert before I even had him good." She reached over and patted my hand. "But that's another story for another time. For now, you have to ask yourself why Rosa would want to hurt you so. Why does she want to pull the rug out from under your feet, so to speak, when she's already got a husband?" She pointed the finger at me again, this time with a wink. "And I'll tell you something else. Her sweet mother had a time with her, she clearly did."

"She did?" I felt myself sit up a little straighter.

"Oh yes. Now I don't mean to repeat what Eliana told me in private. That'd be gossip. But I'll tell you this, she used to come over here after she was done at your daddy's place. We'd sit right here and drink iced tea just like we're doing now and she'd tell me her worries and concerns. Eliana was a good woman, but she was awfully troubled."

"About what . . . or is that the part you can't talk about?"

Patsy shook her head. "Not in detail, no. But I can and will tell you that based on what she told me, I don't know if I'd trust anything Rosa had to say."

I took several breaths, aware of each one, as if, individually, they counted for something. "So, I should go talk to him."

"The sooner the better, I'd say."

I looked at my watch. "It's going to take Luis and Fe a while to finish up . . . Dad would kill me if I left the house for any real length of time with them in it." I sighed. "Not to mention Steven is working."

"Do you have a date tonight?"

I nodded. "But I don't know if I can wait that long."

"The Good Book says patience is a virtue, Kimberly."

She was right there. "Patsy, will you do something for me?"

She reached across the table and patted my hand. "If it's within my power."

"Will you pray with me? For me?"

"Right here, right now," she answered, then bowed her head and spoke to G.o.d on my behalf.

Luis and Fe did a good job on the house, and I couldn't wait to call Dad to tell him. Not only did I want the accolades I was sure to receive, it was a way to kill time. "Max approves of them too," I told him.