Page 91 of No Kind of Hero
When he turned around, the gray Audi was pulling up to the curb. Facing the wrong way, like its driver was a woman who didn’t follow the rules, or a woman who’d thrown caution to the wind. A woman who wore copper-colored shoes with bows around the ankles and lavender nail polish and gold ankle bracelets. A woman who jumped in, even though the water was over her head, even though she was scared to do it. A grown woman with a woman’s courage and a woman’s heart.
She climbed out, looking stiff. Her skirt—which was gray, like the car—was crumpled and stuck to her, and she tugged it loose as she walked. Her pale-blue blouse didn’t look too great either, and it was hanging out of the waistband of the skirt. Her feet were bare, and her hair was loose.
She walked up to him, swaying a tiny bit, stopped a few feet away, and said, “I came back.”
“I see that,” he said. “For the weekend? Or what?”
She didn’t seem to have heard him. “It doesn’t have to mean anything to you,” she said. “Or wait. It does. I mean, it doesn’thaveto, but I want it to. I’m not going to be scared to say it. I’m going to say it. I came back for me, but I came back for you. You and Gracie.”
“Beth—” he began.
She put up a hand. “No. I’m going to say this. I quit my job. I quit—myjob.”She was shaking some, and he wondered when she’d eaten. When she’d last stopped. “I left. Six years. And I don’t care. Because you’re right. Next year, I’ll be a partner, and then what? How will my life change? How will it be better? It won’t. It won’t be better. I’ll have more money. I’ll do less work.Someless work. And there won’t be anybody to take me to see dragonflies. There won’t be anybody to hold my hand. There won’t be anybody to dance with me on the dock. And I won’t see Gracie’s smile. What kind of life is that going to be? No life, that’s what. No life. So I came back. I came back, and maybe I can get on with Joan’s firm. Or maybe I can’t. My name’s Schaefer, I’m in Wild Horse where that matters, and I’m a good lawyer. I can learn real estate law, too. The lake is going to get developed, whether that’s Brett Hunter doing it or somebody else. The town’s going to need a good real estate attorney. I’m not one yet, but I wasn’t a good estate-planning attorney either, and now I am. And then thereisthat estate planning. Development on the lake means rich people. People with money. Californians. And regular people, too. People who need wills. People who get sick and need help applying for their Social Security disability. Big people and little people. All kinds of people, and companies, too.”
“I—” he said, but she talked right over him.
“So that’s me,” she said. “That’s what I’m doing. If nobody wants me, I’ll do it by myself. The thing about Idaho is, it’s not Portland. You know it’s not.”
“Yes,” he said. There was a helium balloon filling up inside him, and in another minute, he was going to be floating straight up into the sky.
“It’s cheap,” she said. “And I don’t need a yacht. I don’t need a boat, and I don’t need a house. Not if you’ll take me in your boat. Not if you’ll let me live in your house. And if you won’t? Then I’ll get a house. A little house.”
“Beth,” he said. “Baby. Stop.”
“Oh.” She swallowed, and then she looked at Gracie. Evan looked down, and there Gracie was, smiling like the sun. Smiling, and holding her arms out. And Beth’s face was crumpling. “Oh,” she said. “Well, I don’t care. I’m moving anyway. Iam.I quit. I’m here.”
He put an arm around her and kissed her forehead, and she put her hands up over her face and started to shake. “I can’t—” she said. “I can’t—”
Evan handed Gracie to his mom, took Beth in his arms, and held on. She shook, and she cried, and he didn’t say anything. He rocked her, and he held her, and he felt his T-shirt getting wet. And he felt like he could fly.
“Baby,” he asked when the sobs had died down at last, “when did you eat?”
“I . . .” she said. “I had some coffee. And a . . . one of those peanut butter cracker things. Some of those.”
“Uh-huh. And how many times did you stop?”
“Uh . . . one time, I did. To get the coffee. And I’m sorry, but I have to pee. Really bad. Just wait a minute, OK?”
He had to laugh. No choice. He was buzzing like a . . . like something that buzzed. “Yeah. But wait. Door’s locked.” He ran ahead of her and opened it.
“But you never lock it,” she said. She was dancing some. She reallydidhave to go. He wondered how long ago that coffee stop had been. Four hours? Five?
“I had to, though,” he said. “Because I was leaving. I was coming for you.”
She came out about three minutes later, and he handed her the glass of water he’d poured for her while she’d been in there. She drank the whole thing down, and she wasn’t looking quite as shaky when she handed it back.
His mom came over with Gracie and said, “I’m going to take off, you two. And I’m just going to say that I’m happy to give up square dancing for this. Tonight, I am. But not every time. You’re going to need to get Russell to babysit some, honey.”
Beth said, “But let me kiss her first,” and Angela smiled and handed Gracie over. Beth cuddled the baby close, rubbed her cheek over her fine blonde hair, and kissed her cheek, and Gracie “kissed” back.
“Hey,” Beth said. “What was that, baby girl?”
“Brand-new trick,” Evan said. “Giving kisses. She doesn’t pucker up yet, but she’s learning. And watch this.” He waved at his daughter. “Bye-bye, Gracie.”
The baby smiled, her two teeth gleaming white, and opened and closed her hand. “Da dada.”
“She’s got the dance down,” Evan said. “But not the music.”
His mom took Gracie back and said, “Come on, sweetie. Let’s leave these two alone and go have some girl time. You want to watch Grandma’s shows? You know you do.” And then she did the thing she never had. She put her arm around Beth, kissed her cheek, and said, “I’m glad you came back, honey. I know that was scary, but sometimes, love’s worth it. The trick is knowing when. But I think this might be it.”
