"I could stay here," he ventured, but I nixed the idea. He knew what the score was, and that didn't include overnights at my house just yet.
The front door slammed, and Miranda came in. "I called the Skies & Scopes store; they have one telescope left, and I asked them to hold it until tomorrow."
"That's great, honey."
She gave me a smile, grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl, and took off upstairs.
I glanced at Andrew; he was scowling at the television. "I know you aren't happy with the way things are. Neither am I, but for now, this is the way it is."
He snorted. "Uh-huh. Let's just skip it, huh? What's on Nova tonight?"
I let it drop, and the evening passed with an uneasy truce, but there was no way I could avoid facing the fact that we were on a collision course, headed for "the talk."
AFTER WE RETURNED from a successful trip to the astronomy shop on Sunday, I left Andrew to listen to Randa bubble over about her new—and even better—telescope, and Kip brag about skating with the big kids.
The Sunday crowd was light at the IJrown Bear Bar & Grill, supposedly a family diner. The lounge saw more action than the grill, I thought, as I skirted the bar, avoiding the leers from the guys lined up at the counter. There was a baseball game on TV, and it looked like half of the male population of Chiqetaw had shown up to drink beer and shout at the umpire. As I slipped into the dining room, I felt overexposed. I was sporting the new skirt and top I'd bought over a month ago but hadn't yet had the guts to wear. When I woke up feeling like I needed a pick-me-up, I decided that new clothes might do the trick. Now, I wasn't so sure about my decision.
The skirt was a gauzy plum broomstick design, the top a snug ivory camisole made out of cotton eyelet lace that tied up the front. Even though I'd worn an ivory bra, I felt bare-naked underneath. What had gotten into me? I never bought frilly clothes, but when Joe pointed at a catalog sitting on my coffee table and said, "You'd look great in that," vanity won. I'd ordered the duo. As I looked at myself in the mirror, the whole effect was definitely more froufrou than I usually liked. However, the ensemble did accentuate my curves in a positive light, and I felt like I should be out in a meadow, running barefoot through wild-flowers with a wide-brimmed straw hat in hand.
I looked around, searching for Harlow. As usual, she was perpetually early. She'd edged her wheelchair up to the table and had already ordered lemonade for us. I gave her a quick hug and slid into the opposite seat. "You are so gorgeous," I said. And she was: rounded and healthy, with no sign of the anorexia that plagued her for so long. Her long, crimped golden hair had been woven into cornrows— much easier for her to take care of. "You look like a pregnant Bo Derek in her younger days. Only your hair is shinier."
She chuckled. "Thanks, chickie." Her eyes flickered over my skirt and top. "Speaking of looks, that's certainly a different style for you. Trying something new?"
I shrugged. "I've been feeling all topsy-turvy lately. Thought maybe this would give my spirits a lift, but I'm not so sure. I think I just look goofy."
She ran her eyes over me, appraising my outfit. If I looked silly, I could count on her to be brutally honest. "Actually, you look ravishing. The ivory sets off the
highlights in your hair; it makes the chocolate deeper and the silver sparkle. And the skirt is gorgeous." I beamed. Harlow always knew what to say. She lifted her glass and toasted me. 'To the new Emerald. I'd love to see you look like this more often. I bet Andrew loves it."
I reluctantly lifted my glass and took a sip. "Andrew ..." I sighed. "Now there's a touchy subject." If I smoked, I'd be toying with a cigarette by now, but my vice was a little less dangerous; I tore open a packet of sugar and poured it on my tongue.
Harlow winced as she leaned back in her seat and shook her head. "Stop that. It's not good for you."
"Yeah it is. Sugar gives you energy, so why not go one hundred percent pure?"
She clucked and reached across the table to grab the packet out of my hand. "You still haven't told me what's wrong, and don't lie and say 'Nothing,' because I know perfectly well that you're upset."
"I know you think I'm making a mistake; that I should just forget about Joe and dive into the relationship with Andrew."
"So why don't you?" Her voice was soft. She'd been responsible for my meeting Andrew, and he was her husband's best friend. I could understand why she felt torn.
I tried to explain. "I adore him, but let's face it, no way is he mature enough to handle two kids and a wife who talks to ghosts. In fact, last week we were talking about our hopes for the future—not for us as a couple, mind you, just individual goals. He came out and told me he doesn't believe in marriage. I can't see myself in a long-term relationship without marriage, Harl. And when the sparks aren't flying, we don't have a lot in common. We talk a little, and then we argue."
The waitress interrupted to take our order. "My name's Alicia, ladies, and I'll be your waitress tonight. My, don't y'all look pretty." She gave Harl a wink and me a smile and jotted down my request for fish and chips and Harlow's order for soup, then stuck her pencil behind her ear and took off toward the kitchen.
"Can we talk about something else?" I pleaded. "How's it going for James?"
"He's in the Shewa area. Local rebels have shut down the one runway they call an airport, and he and the crew are stuck until the plane can get through to them. Ethiopia's a powder keg, with all the deaths from famine and the problems with the government." She leaned toward me, and I could see the fear in her eyes. "James heard shots outside the compound; he thinks that there may have been executions. I'm hoping to hell he's okay. It doesn't take much to spark off a war over there."
I decided she didn't need me reinforcing her worries over something she couldn't control, so I brought the conversation back around to me. Harl loved gossip, and I gave her the full treatment. I told her everything about Daniel's visit and subsequent death, about Miranda's telescope, and Kip losing his best friend. "The last thing I need is a string of bad luck. But it'll pass. Nanna taught me that everything comes in cycles, and life's been so good lately that I'm not surprised the universe is throwing a few curves my way. I just hope the curves don't explode into crises." I shifted in my seat, vaguely aware of a growing sensation that I was being watched. I leaned forward and whispered. "Is there somebody staring at me?"
Harlow glanced over my shoulder, then gave me a gentle nod. "Yep, big guy. Uh-oh, red alert, he's coming your way, and either he's drunk or has an ear infection that's throwing him off balance, because he's bouncing off the walls." She busied herself, poking in her handbag for her compact.
I steeled myself as a shadow fell across the table.
Slowly, I raised my eyes. He was big, all right. Actually, this dude had it all over Paul Bunyan. Dark, flashing eyes, long beard, graying ponytail, black leather chaps and jacket. Oh yeah, we were talking Mr. Bad Biker in the flesh.
"Yes?" Leaving all traces of warmth out of my voice, I forced myself to stare him down. Never show fear in the presence of wild beasts, children, or lumberjacks.