twelve

BIRMINGHAM, AL

2010

Morning came with a sudden gasp. Kate sat upright, briefly disoriented. Sunlight streamed onto her face, into her eyes. She shouldn’t have spent the night at Jack’s house. Everything that needed to be said had been said and now she would have to go make small talk over cereal or eggs. It would have been best to have a nice good-bye the night before and move on with their lives.

The clock read 5:30A.M.—it was still early and she didn’t want to wake Jack. How awful would it be to sneak out?

They’d talked. They’d summarized the past. What was left? The truth of course. She’d only told him the best parts, leaving out the pain and disorientation of those years. Like how that first year after the adoption, she’d folded into herself like a flower that was too fragile and too complicated to ever open. How she’d dipped into a deep darkness, a place where she’d wondered what there was about her aimless life that was so important that she couldn’t have raised her little girl. How only one vow had helped her get through that year—to never love again. All that romance, fairy tale, love forever and ever was crap. Loss: it was the period at the end of every sentence.

She hadn’t told him how, during that year, she’d taken a job at the marina in Hilton Head, cleaning yachts, babysitting kids, and serving at cocktail parties. It was a job, pay and busywork. She’d tried not to think about Jack living his life in Birmingham and loving his wife as if nothing had ever happened. She’d hated him. She’d loved him. She’d missed him. She’d then hated him. All in a never-ending cycle.

She didn’t tell Jack how much—how deeply—she’d hurt her parents. Luna was the first-born grandchild, one they held and then let go. Kate had known it was their fervent prayer that Luna would be restored to their lives. In her worst moments Kate was annoyed with their hopes for “one day.” She felt that her parents yearned and pushed into the future, into the day they would see Luna again as if this day wasn’t good enough, because this day didn’t have Luna.

She’d understood, of course. Didn’t she feel the same? And yet she’d been frustrated again and again when her parents brought Luna into the conversation. “Oh, we planted a tree for her, darling.” “We found those pictures last night and looked at them again. She is so beautiful.” “Did you fill out that paperwork that will allow her to find us when she’s twenty-one?” And the worst of all the comments was from her dad. “I hope I live long enough to see her again.”

And why would Jack want to know how Molly and Tara had had opposite reactions, as if they’d sat down and Tara said to Molly, “Okay, you talk about it almost every time you can and I’ll never ever bring it up. Okay? Good. Now we’re balanced.” It wasn’t because Tara cared less and Molly cared more. No, it was because of who they were. The sisters shared the same hurt. They just showed it in very different ways.

She skipped the part where on Luna’s first birthday, she’d sat alone at the large restaurant table, staring out over the water, wondering what her one-year-old daughter was doing at that very moment. Sitting in a highchair with a little piece of pink cake? Ripping wrapping paper off a doll?

Was she really supposed to tell Jack all of that? Kate groaned, cuddling up further into the pillows, wishing for sleep. She’d told him the best parts, erasing the harder truths. He’d probably done the same. What good was there in reliving it all?

They both wanted to know that Luna was well and happy. They both wondered and lived with the what-ifs and the could-have and the should-haves. It didn’t matter what they said or did.

Somewhere down the hallway, a door clicked open. Kate rose from bed and slipped on her jeans and white tank top. She entered the living room; it was awash in morning light that simultaneously softened the edges and exposed every flaw in the glass and furnishings. She walked to the windows.

“Spring is such a show-off.” Jack’s voice came from behind.

Kate turned and smiled. There he was—in his jeans and black T-shirt, the same Hornets baseball cap on his head. And the smile, the impossible smile.

“Good morning,” Kate said.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Great. So much that I had no idea where I was when I woke up.”

“Coffee?” he asked.

“Of course.”

And then the nervousness disappeared as they walked into the kitchen. A calm cadence of conversation reappeared and Kate sat on the barstool waiting on her coffee and watching Jack move around his kitchen.

“So,” he said with his back to her. “Which first, studio or boutique?”

“Studio,” she said. “Because I’ll drive back to Bluffton after the boutique. I left a message with the owner that I’d be there late morning.”

He turned and handed her a mug of coffee. “I’ve wondered about Norah. So, she works with you?”

“Yep. When the boutique really took off, I needed a partner. We expanded and now we co-own. She came after she quit her yacht stewardess job and married this great guy, Charlie.” Kate shook her head. “It’s weird how fast time can go.”

“I know.” Jack sat across the bar. “There are things I say I’m going to do every year and then the year is over. Just done.”

She nodded. “The only times a year seemed like more than a year and not less than one was the couple of years after Luna. Maybe time moves slow when you feel awful and time moves fast when you feel good.”

He laughed. “Or something.”

“I really shouldn’t spout philosophy before I finish my first cup of coffee,” Kate said and smiled. “Maybe keep some thoughts to myself.”

“Your thoughts are nice,” he said.

They sat in silence until they both stood simultaneously, as if on cue, as if a bell or whistle had signaled their leaving time.

*   *   *

LUNA STUDIO. The sign was made of a ten-foot-high piece of dark wood and the letters were fashioned of bright zinc reflecting the morning sun in sharp swords. Kate glanced up at Luna’s name high and bright on the signage, and shivered.

“You okay?” Jack asked.

She nodded. “Yes. It’s quite something to see her name up there like that. All big and proud.”

He opened the thick glass door to let Kate walk in first. The foyer was brightly lit with tiny sconces sending indirect light onto canvas and wood. Kate walked through the small studio while Jack told her about it.

“The idea of this started seven years ago. Maggie wanted to have a place to show her photography and the art of some friends she’d come to know. After the divorce, I dismissed the idea. But then it wouldn’t leave me alone, so even though she has nothing to do with it now, it was Maggie’s idea.”

Kate stopped in front of an angel painting so misty and surreal she thought the angel should be able to fly. “She never asked about the name?”

He shook his head. “I thought that when we opened the studio I would tell her, but now I don’t feel any need to explain.”

The desire came over her too fast. To touch Jack. To kiss him. To reach behind his head and rest her head on his shoulder. Kate averted her eyes.

“Only Alabama artists,” he continued. “We have shows about every eight weeks or so.”

“Who takes care of all this while you’re working your real job?”

“Mimi Ann,” he said, and then stopped and called out the same name.

A woman came from the back room, smiling and full of energy. She was all blond and platinum, all smiley and crisp. “Hi, y’all,” Mimi Ann said as she walked toward them.

Jack hugged her and then introduced Kate. “This is Mimi Ann Davolt. Luna Studio is nothing without her.”

“No,” Mimi Ann said, “Jack has that backwards.” She smiled at him. “I keep it going. Jack is Luna Studio.” Mimi Ann looked at Kate then, and it seemed as if this was a terribly hard thing for Mimi Ann to do, as if it hurt to look away from Jack. “He has a fantastic reputation for finding the newest geniuses and showcasing their work first.”

“Nice,” Kate said.

A silence fell over the three of them, an uncomfortable emptiness that made Kate turn away, pretending to look at other work. Her heart was up underneath her throat, beating against her collarbone, an old and devastating feeling she’d avoided.

The studio was too warm. Or the name Luna in bright letters had caused alarm. Either way, Kate felt light and dizzy, off balance. She sat on a bench at the end of a short hallway and stared at a coastal scene painting. Jack and Mimi Ann’s voices were murmured and light, coming down the hallway like music turned low, laughter as punctuation.

Kate pulled out her cell phone, which she’d turned off at dinner the night before. The phone’s light flashed back on, and she saw that Rowan had called six times. Lida had called four. Text messages and voice mails had arrived from both of them.

Without checking the voice mails and with a single click, Kate called Rowan back. He answered on the first ring.

“Are you okay?” he answered without preamble.

“I’m totally fine. What’s going on?”

“I’ve been trying to call you since yesterday afternoon. Where the hell have you been? Why aren’t you answering?”

“I’m fine. I told you, I’m in Birmingham. I’m about to go by the boutique and then come home. Is something wrong there?”

“Where were you last night? What did you do all day?”

“I drove around. I looked at Birmingham. I ate. I slept.”

“Where did you stay?” he asked.

Kate’s heartbeat doubled knowing she must again tell an untruth. She had no way to explain the situation in a brief phone conversation, never mind in Jack’s studio, which was named after their lost daughter. “The Regency,” she said. “I stayed at the Regency.”

“I wish you would’ve called.”

“I’m sorry,” Kate whispered, sinking into herself. And she was. Sorry for the lie. Sorry for her inability to explain her story. Sorry that only seconds before she’d wanted to touch Jack Adams.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I just worry.”

“Don’t. I promise I’m fine.”

“Call me on your way home this afternoon and maybe we can figure out a way to meet for a late dinner.”

“I will.”

Kate hung up and scrolled through Lida’s texts, each one a short question about something that needed to be handled at the boutique. She answered and then looked up to see Jack walking toward her. She stood to face him, embarrassed that she had thought to reach for his hand, or touch his face, anything to have her skin on his.

“You ready to go?” he asked.

She nodded without finding her voice.

*   *   *

Wisteria boutique sat nestled in the middle of Mountain Brook Village. The old English architecture matched stonewalls where ivy crawled in random patterns of its own making. Kate sat on a large white couch in front of an iron-framed mirror large enough to cover the entire wall. The owner, Colleen, sat across from Kate. “So, how did you hear about us?”

“My friend, Susan Neal, was recently here and she told me I must see what you’re doing. Susan thinks you have some secret you won’t tell anyone.”

“Secret? Ha. I wish. Really, if I had a secret I’d duplicate this store all over. But the only secret I have is that I’m in a great location surrounded by great people and we’ve become a sort of gathering place.” She stretched out her hands. “That’s why I have the couches and chairs. Sometimes the women come here to hang out, and that’s okay, because eventually they buy something.”

“And great taste,” Kate said. “I mean you carry lines no one else does. And Susan says you’re always the first.”

“Yes.” Colleen nodded. “No one had ever heard of Flaming Torch or Haute Hippie until I brought them here, but I can explain that.” Colleen smiled and leaned forward as if she were about to divulge a world secret. “I am obsessive about clothes, new lines, designers, and style. I’m preoccupied by it all, completely to the detriment of my life. And you can’t teach obsession.” She grinned.

“I get it. I know,” Kate said.

As Colleen and Kate talked about their mutual passion, about New York buying trips and fashion designers changing houses, Jack signaled that he was going next door for coffee. The front door shut and Colleen asked. “How do you know Jack Adams?”

Kate stared at Colleen for longer than comfortable as she had no idea how to answer. Oh, we had a baby together thirteen years ago. Finally she spoke. “I knew him years ago, and then ran into him yesterday when I came to town.”

“Can’t believe that man is still a bachelor,” Colleen said. “Lucky girl who nabs him.”

“Do you mind showing me around and talking a little bit about your layout?”

Together Colleen and Kate wandered the store and back rooms. When they’d finished, Kate looked toward the front door to see that Jack had returned and was leaning against a large table covered with shoes and belts. Kate turned to Colleen, grateful. “Thanks for everything. “I’ll stay in touch,” she said, hugging Colleen good-bye.

Kate reached Jack’s side, smiled. “Was that torture?”

He shook his head. “Nope. I loved hearing you talk about your work. Who knew you were so crazy about fashion?”

“I’m not going to take that as an insult.” Kate opened the door, waving over her shoulder to Colleen.

“Not an insult at all,” Jack said, handing her a cup of coffee. “This is a new part of you, that’s all.”

“Life changes us, doesn’t it?” Kate asked, lifting her face to the afternoon sun.

Cherry blossom snow fell around them, and the sidewalk appeared like a forest floor. Tulips burst from the ground in gatherings of bright faces. Dogwood trees bloomed white from green, an umbrella.

“This is the most beautiful time of year here,” Jack said, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, oblivious to the people walking past who halted and walked around him.

“It must be,” Kate said.

He stared at her and then touched her cheek with the palm of his hand. She didn’t move. She didn’t breathe. Then, in the middle of a spring afternoon, outside a boutique in Alabama, Jack leaned forward and kissed her. She tasted coffee and warmth. It was a soft and short kiss, almost as if he merely wanted to brush against her lips, not stay to rest. Kate leaned forward, an instinct of wanting more.

Jack took a step back and Kate looked away, embarrassment and need combining in tender combination. He took her chin to make her look at him. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw you at the concession stand.”

“I think I’ve been wanting you to do that since I decided to drive here,” she whispered.

“But it was not a good idea,” he said.

“No, it probably was not.”

“I’d really like to do it again, but I promise I won’t.”

She stepped forward and dropped her head onto his shoulder. He placed his hand on the back of her head. “Don’t go. Just stay one more night.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

She lifted her head and looked at him. “I told Rowan that I’d leave as soon as I was finished at the boutique. I’ve already lied to him once.” She cringed, squeezing shut her eyes.

“You don’t have to lie. Tell him the truth. You ran into an old friend and you want to stay one more night.”

“You make it sound so simple,” she said.

“There’s nothing about this or us that’s simple. But hell, I don’t know when I’ll ever get to see you again, so don’t leave.”

“Okay,” Kate said, nodding. “Okay.”