Chasing Sunsets Part 15

"My mother told me once-only once-that her parents were quite up in age when they had her." She looked at me again. "She was the surprise, she said, after nine others." Patsy laughed. "Can you imagine? The baby before her was nearly ten when she was born. Yes, my grandparents were quite surprised when she came along. They doted on her, don't you know. Pinned a lot of dreams on her too, Mama said." Patsy's voice faded before she added, "She was only fourteen when she met my father. Only fifteen when they married."

"Fifteen?" I reached for the photo again. "She doesn't look fifteen. She looks . . . twenty, maybe."

"They worked very hard in those days to look older. Marlene Dietrich was a big influence. Actresses like her."

From what I could remember about Marlene Dietrich, I could see a faint impersonation of the cla.s.sic actress in Patsy's mother's photograph. "I see," I said. Then, "So, what did happen?"

"Mama told me that her parents didn't want her to marry Daddy, but she was determined. So, they threw a wedding unlike anything you've ever seen, then told her she and my father were on their own. Daddy, Mama said, made a good living for the times-he was older. Did I say that?"

"No. How much older?"

"By about twelve years."

"My goodness, Patsy. Today he'd be arrested."

Patsy laughed. "Times change. If you were living in their day, when you and your husband got divorced, he'd just more or less disappear from your life. And your sons'."

I took another sip of tea. "That kind of arrangement just might make my life easier. I admit to being torn . . ."

Patsy patted my hand. "Daddies are important, little one."

I nodded as I looked out over the marsh and the shimmering water. Several gulls played in the air-dipping, diving, soaring. I thought of Dad. He was demanding at times, clueless at others. But always with plenty of love to give to his family. "I can't imagine life without my father," I said.

"I not only can, I did."

I looked at the older woman. "Did your mother remarry?"

Now it was Patsy's turn to look out over the marsh. "Yes."

"Do you have any photos of him? Your stepfather?"

"No." She reached for the third photo I'd brought out with me. This one was of a younger Patsy-clearly seen in the shape of the eyes and her square chin-and a boy. "I was fourteen in this photograph." She held the photo of her mother and the one of herself side by side to show the difference. "I looked like my father," she said. "Nothing like my mother."

"But beautiful in your own right."

Patsy's face wrinkled with her smile. "You are too kind."

"I'm just calling it like I see it. Who's the boy? Your brother?"

"Yes. This was taken shortly after we came back together."

I shifted my weight and felt the sweat that had formed between my bare legs and the chair. "What do you mean?"

"After he was born, my mother gave my brother Lloyd to a couple who didn't have any children of their own. They raised Lloyd as their own son, and then when I was thirteen I moved away from my mother and lived with them too."

I blinked several times. "You're kidding. At thirteen your mother just let you go live with someone else?"

She took a long swallow of her tea before nodding.

"You mean you never saw her again?"

Patsy shook her head. "No. Shortly after I went to live in the Buchwald household, Mama and Mr. Liddle-her husband-moved away. They left no forwarding address. My adopted father-Mr. Buchwald, who I called 'Papa' like my brother did-took me to try to find them once. We talked with neighbors but . . . no one knew anything. And then . . ." Her voice trailed, as though there were nothing more to say about the subject.

I sat back in my chair. "Patsy, I just can't imagine . . . as a mother, I mean . . ."

Patsy sat up then, stretching her back as best she could. "I can't either. But that doesn't change what was." She patted the armrest of her chair. "I think I'll go inside now," she said. "What are you planning for the rest of your day?"

I shook my head to clear my thoughts, then said, "I'm going to the market in a few minutes. Need anything?"

She thought before speaking. "Oreos," she said. "I just love Oreos, and I haven't had any in weeks."

I smiled at the dear. "I'll bring you two packages, then," I said.

"Sounds like a good plan," she answered, then stood and shuffled into her home, leaving me alone for a moment to collect the gla.s.ses and three framed and telling photographs.

Moments later, I joined Patsy in the house. I placed the tray and gla.s.ses on the kitchen counter and returned the photographs to where I'd earlier found them. Patsy stepped out of her bedroom and into the living room, asking, "So, how did the date go last night?"

I shook my head. "It ended poorly."

Patsy pinked. "Oh, dear."

"No, no, no. Not like that!" I laughed. "It was my fault, really. Steven is a great guy and all, but . . ."

Patsy pointed to the sofa. "Sit," she said.

I did as I was told. Patsy went to a chair-I imagine her favorite from the looks of it-and sat. "Talk to me," she said, settling in.

My shoulders hunched as I brought my clasped fingers to rest on my knees. I smiled at the wiser, older woman as I said, "I haven't even talked to Heather yet."

"Heather?"

"My sister. She and I are pretty close." She'd called the night before, shortly after I'd returned home from Coconuts, but I hadn't answered. I didn't feel like explaining anything to her or hearing her make any derogatory comments about Steven, whom she apparently never forgave for hurting me when we were young.

"What's to talk about?"

"Patsy, Steven and I . . . well, I've known Steven my whole life practically. We grew up here on Cedar Key. Him, literally, and me during the summers and off and on during the year."

"I suspect someone had a summer romance, perhaps?" she said with a knowing smile.

I nodded. "He was eighteen and I was seventeen. I thought . . . well . . . that he was . . . that we were special."

"But . . ."

"But then he went off to college, met some girl, and got married."

Patsy appeared to study me for a moment. Uncomfortable, I peered around the room. Tapped my sandaled toes on the end of a throw rug. Pressed my lips together.

"There's more to that story," she said. "When did he marry the girl?"

I felt my cheeks grow warm. I shook my head and felt my ponytail brush the sloping of my shoulders. "Not too long after he met her." I took a deep breath. "The thing is, Patsy, is that Steven and I . . . we never . . . you know."

"Ah."

"I mean, it wasn't for lack of wanting to . . . or not wanting to."

"But you didn't."

"No."

"And then he went off to college and he did."

"Yes."

Patsy paused again. "What is it that Dr. Phil keeps on saying?"

Dr. Phil? "Oh. Um, I don't know, Patsy. I don't have time to watch television much."

"How is that working out for you? That's what he says."

Now it was my turn to pause. "So, is that what you're asking me now?"

She bobbed her head once. Her hands lay loose along the length of the armrests. I noticed her hands. Slender. Thin-skinned. The wedding rings hanging onto her finger winked at me. "I am," she said. "Are you holding some sort of grudge because he made a decision that didn't include you?"

"I thought we were special, Patsy." I shook my head and chuckled. "My gosh, this is silly." I brought my hands together at my face, resting the tips of my index fingers at my nose. "It was a long time ago. Why should it bother me?" My hands returned to my lap.

"How does it bother you?"

I shook my head again. "I don't know, Patsy. Last night, we were having a good time, and I felt comfortable with Steven, like I did when we were teenagers. I showed him pictures of my boys and then he showed me a photo of his daughter-Eliza is her name. She's . . . she's in college. In college."

"And your sons are just young'uns."

"Yes. Looking at that picture, I was reminded of why I never heard from him again after . . ." I laughed again. "This is so silly."

"How come?"

"How come it's silly?" Patsy nodded at the question. "Because I'm just too old to be feeling these ridiculous feelings. Why am I jealous of a college student?"

"Jealous of a-jealous of a college student?" Patsy shook her head side to side as though she were watching a ping-pong tournament. "No, honey. You aren't jealous of that child. You're jealous of the reason she's walking on this earth. But that wasn't her fault, now was it? What her parents did to bring her to this life was no more in her power than when you brought your boys into the world."

I hung my head low. "Patsy, Patsy." I said. "You have such a way of looking at things."

"Good. Then you just go over to your house and call Steven and tell him you'd love nothing more than to see him again. Have him take you out on that boat of his."

My head snapped to attention. I blinked. "No," I said. "Not quite yet. Granted, my att.i.tudes and actions are a little juvenile, but I'm still a little touchy on the subject." I stood. "Thank you, Patsy."

She reached for my hand with hers, and I took it. We both squeezed. "Don't waste time, Kimberly. Time is something we all think we've got in abundance until suddenly the clock stops ticking. Don't waste a single minute of your life, you hear me?"

"I hear you."

"Especially not when it comes to matters of the heart."

"Yes, ma'am," I said. "I hear you."

16.

I returned to the house, played with Max for a few minutes, then left for the market. Maddie looked up as I entered; she greeted me, and I waved back. My eyes automatically went to the bulletin board. A man stood before it, gently tearing away one of the strips with my phone number.

I looked at Maddie, who winked at me, and then back to the man. He was richly tanned, with hair so black it was nearly blue, and full lips that were naturally cherry. "Hi," I said, nearly skipping toward him. "I'm Kimberly Tucker."

He jumped at the sound of my voice, turning fully toward me. "I'm sorry?"

I laughed lightly. "No, no. I'm sorry." I extended my hand and steadied my breath. "I'm Kimberly Tucker. You just tore my phone number off that little poster there."

He looked at the poster and then to me again. A smile spread lazily across his face, showing straight white teeth and a deep dimple in his right cheek. The topaz in his eyes-almond shaped and deep brown-twinkled in the sunlight coming through the windows. "Well, then," he said. He waved the little piece of paper near his shoulder. "I guess you just saved me a phone call."

"Do you know someone who may be interested in the job?"

Another dimpled smile. "Me," he said. Then he shook his head, which caused his thick hair to shimmy. "Actually, my new company, of which there are two employees. Myself and my sister."

I thought for a moment. "Do you have a card?" I asked.

He reached into his back pocket, drew out a leather tri-fold wallet, removed and then extended a business card toward me. I took it between my fingers and read it. "Luis Munoz."

"That's me."

I smiled up at him. "I like the name of your company. 'Keeping It Clean.' Cute."

"My sister," he said. "She is the one who came up with it."

"Well, tell her I like it." I paused, then added, "I've got to pick up a few things here, but if you have time and can follow me back to the house . . ."

"Be happy to."

Luis drove his car, following mine until we reached the house. I asked him to wait outside a minute while I ran the Oreos over to Patsy. He nodded in agreement. I didn't bother to tell Patsy that I might have found someone to take care of the house. I only knocked, then opened the unlocked door as I called her name.

"I'm in the bathroom," she called back.

"I'm putting the Oreos on your kitchen counter," I said.

"Okey-dokey!"

When I returned to the house I found Luis standing on the cement platform, his feet spread wide and his arms crossed over his muscular chest, looking out at the water. I'd run from Patsy's, so I stopped long enough to catch my breath then approached him from behind. When he heard me he turned and smiled. "This is some view, chica."