Page 14 of Inherited Light
Her arms came around me tentatively. “Sometimes the loneliness makes me wonder if tomorrow is worth it. Sometimes I have to leave the house and go where there are people because sitting with my head in my hands crying doesn’t make the loneliness go away.”
“Ah, sweetheart,” I sighed, rubbing her back. “You’ve got me now. All you have to do is call and I’ll be there.”
“I would like that,” she admitted. “Sometimes all I need is to hear a friendly voice on the other end of the line. It’s one of the reasons I stopped being a hermit and started reaching out to friends from high school again.”
I leaned back and took her chin in my hand. “I want to hear more, but we should go in first, since I’m sure we’re already late.”
“Right,” she agreed. “The tamales are waiting.”
I opened my door and pushed my seat forward again, taking out the chair and doing everything in reverse. I closed my door and rolled the chair around, opening her door. “I can transfer if you put the chair right next to the seat.”
I positioned the chair farther back and she glanced at me with one brow raised toward her forehead.
“And give up the chance to have you in my arms again? Not going to happen,” I said, winking.
She picked up her purse and set it on her lap, then waited for me to scoop her out. I cradled her for only a moment before I set her in the chair. I closed the door and stood behind her. “Just so you know, I used every speck of willpower I had to set you down instead of hold you against me for the rest of the night.”
I grabbed the chair and pushed it past the car so she could reach the hand rims before I let it go. I didn’t see her face, but I would bet my BMW there was a smile on it.
Chapter Six
I laid my napkin down and picked up my glass, sipping the tangy paloma, and enjoying the tartness of the grapefruit juice. Surprisingly, it paired nicely with the variety tray of tamales we shared. When we arrived to the hostess station, she offered us a table on the patio overlooking Lake Blue Shade. Unfortunately, there was no way for Cat to get her chair on the patio without a ramp. I took care of it easily, by lifting her into my arms again and carrying her to a seat, then carrying her chair up and setting it next to the table. She hadn’t stopped smiling the entire evening as we talked and ate as though we had known each other for years.
“I know you want to ask,” she finally said when she laid her fork down.
“Ask what?” I hoped my face conveyed the confusion inside me.
“Why I’m in the chair,” she said, pointing at the sleek, black and gold chair which was practically an extension of her. It hugged her every curve and she barely needed to touch the rims to keep the chair going. Of course, she weighed nothing, which probably helped with how smooth and exquisite she was in it.
“Oh,” I said, leaning forward to set my glass down. “Actually, it hasn’t crossed my mind at all. Either I’m unobservant or else you’re at ease with yourself.”
She laughed a little, but I could tell it was an uncomfortable laughter. “I think it means you’re either lying or—”
“Or I don’t care,” I finished. Her expression changed to confusion and I realized how it sounded. I took her hand and held it tightly. “What I meant is, it doesn’t matter to me why you’re in the chair. I’m enjoying myself and I think you’re enjoying yourself too, right?”
She nodded as the waitress approached us to clear our plates. “Did you enjoy your meal?” she asked, as she stacked the plates on a tray.
“It was lovely,” Cat said. “You always have the most diverse tamales. They taste like the kind my abuela used to make.”
The waitress beamed with pride. “Thank you for sharing how much you enjoyed them. I’ll pass your appreciation on to Chef Coronado,” she said, as I slipped her my card to pay for the meal. “The secret is the banana leaves we wrap them in. Gives them a little added something other tamales don’t have.” She hoisted the tray to her shoulder and promised to be right back.
I pointed down below the patio where a concrete walkway led around the lake with benches and streetlamps spaced evenly along the way. The sun had set and the moon rose into the night sky as we ate. It made for a highly romantic atmosphere. “Would you like to go enjoy the lake for a bit while our food settles?”
“And the alcohol clears our bodies?” she asked and I laughed.
“That too,” I admitted. “They make a damn good paloma here, but it’s also strong enough to knock you back a few steps. I figure I better wait a bit before I drive.”
The waitress reappeared and I signed the slip, adding a generous tip. She slipped the pad back in her apron and picked up the chair. “Would you like this at the bottom?”
I nodded. “Yes, please, we would appreciate it, thank you.”
She carried the lightweight chair down the stairs easily, and I got to hold Cat in my arms once again. She rested her hand on my chest and I could tell the alcohol had relaxed her when she rested her head next to her hand.
“Can I trust you to carry me down the stairs after those palomas?”
I inhaled the scent of her. She wore a flowery, fragrant perfume which hung in the air around us. “You can trust me never to hurt you, Cat,” I promised, carrying her down the stairs to the waiting chair. I lowered her into the seat and she adjusted herself until she was happy.
She took my hand in hers. “I want to hold your hand, but the chair makes it hard. If you walk slowly I can keep up by pushing only one wheel.”
