Making Up for Lost Time Read online

  “Sure. Lead the way.”

  She followed Jan’s Toyota into the outskirts of Healdsburg and decided that Jan’s long legs and quirky smile were endearing. Certainly worth getting to know. Highway 101 was clogged heading north from San Francisco, but the southbound journey was easy enough.

  The steakhouse was crowded, giving them time to down beers and attempt conversation over the bar babble. Val learned that Stan and Jan were indeed siblings, and that Stan was also “family.”

  “He said you were cute,” Jan shouted in Val’s ear.

  “Typical man.” Val had to lean back awkwardly around a pole at the bar to get into Jan’s audible range. “Who wants to be cute?”

  “I’d settle for cute. But you’re…not cute.”

  Val grinned. “Thanks.”

  Jan’s eyes sent a You’re Welcome as she took her time assessing Val’s not-cute qualities. Five months, Val thought. She was really enjoying this even though she was out of practice.

  By the time they had eaten, neither making any bones about being hungry after the day’s labor, Val was very conscious of Jan’s knee pressing against hers under the table. They were sitting far closer than the size of the booth warranted. When the waiter offered dessert and coffee Jan declined.

  “We could take in a movie if you like,” Jan suggested.

  Val nodded to make the waiter go away, then said with a quirk of her lips she couldn’t suppress, “A movie is not quite what I had in mind.”

  Jan’s eyes half-closed and Val heard her catch her breath. The booth was not nearly dark enough to do what she wanted, which was to kiss Jan thoroughly, and damn the consequences to her sinuses.

  “Did you notice the motel across the street?”

  Val nodded. She let her knees part as Jan’s hand slid slowly between her thighs.

  “Why don’t you get us a room,” Jan whispered, her palm firmly against the seam of Val’s jeans, “and I’ll get breakfast.”

  “It’s a deal.” Her hips tilted to give Jan more access. They tipped all by themselves. Val’s ability to make conscious decisions was fast slipping away.

  They left the restaurant at a slow walk. Each step felt like foreplay—the sound of Jan’s thighs rubbing together, the light brush of Jan’s shoulder against hers. As they crossed the motel parking lot Val took advantage of a patch of shadow to put her arm around Jan.

  “Wait for me right here,” she said. She didn’t want to be too abrupt, but she couldn’t help but give in to the urge to brush her lips across Jan’s neck and earlobe.

  Jan was obviously not feeling very patient either. She hummed her pleasure and slipped her hands under Val’s sweater.

  Val’s nuzzles turned quickly to half-biting kisses as she worked her way to the hollow of Jan’s throat. She went weak-kneed when Jan’s fingertips deftly found and encouraged Val’s swelling breasts.

  “You want this, don’t you?” Jan’s question required no words. Val’s body answered in quivering yesses.

  She tore herself away from the delicious attention Jan was paying to her breasts only when she knew she had two choices—get a room or do it on the ground.

  She was back as quickly as possible and they stumbled toward the room. Jan’s jeans were unbuttoned and Val’s bra undone by the time they got the door unlocked and stumbled through it. Val kicked it shut as Jan pulled her to the floor.

  They didn’t make it to the bed right away.

  They went right to what they needed. Jan shoved Val’s sweater out of the way and feasted on the swollen flesh of Val’s breasts. Val shuddered and bit back an unnecessary plea, then groaned with delight as her hand finally made its way past too much cloth and buttons to the heat of Jan’s clasping thighs.

  She slid her fingers through Jan’s shuddering wetness and offered up her breasts for all the attention Jan wanted to give them. It was hard to concentrate. The part of her that controlled her fingers was losing focus.

  Jan gasped. “Hurry!”

  “Hold still for a moment,” Val managed to say, but Jan ignored her. Val managed to tear her breasts away from Jan’s mouth and get enough of a grip on Jan’s jeans to pull them down. She slid under Jan until she could curve her hand inward.

  Jan froze as Val entered her, then ground herself onto Val’s fingers. “Jesus. How did you get me like this?”

  Val could have asked the same question. She was aching for the same delicious treatment she was giving Jan.

  Jan’s orgasm was sudden and convulsive. Val wrapped her legs around Jan’s thigh, bringing the energy of Jan’s shaking against her own need.

  Jan finally rolled off her onto the floor. “Jesus.”

  “I assure you, he’s got nothing to do with it.”

  “Shaddup,” Jan said, her voice edged with fondness.

  Val raised herself up on one elbow and shared a smile with Jan in the dim light from the window. Then, knowing that Jan was watching, she brought her hand, covered with Jan’s essence, and slowly ran her tongue along her index finger. She felt drunk on sex, and it was a fantastic feeling after five long months without even a kiss.

  Jan said huskily, “You can get that right from the source.”

  “I should tell you that I—” Val began. That wasn’t the right way to go about it. “I haven’t had a chance to, I mean I have, well, there’s a chance that, I guess I’d say I don’t know if—shit.” She slumped on the floor. She congratulated herself for having thoroughly ruined the mood.

  “Are you trying to tell me you’ve never done this before?”

  “Not with this nose.” Val, you idiot. You know she’s going to laugh.

  Jan laughed. And why wouldn’t she? “Well, I suppose a new nose could make certain things different.”

  “I have a temporary condition,” Val admitted miserably. “At least I hope it’s temporary. I can’t really breathe through my nose for any long period of time.” She really didn’t want to belabor this. Why didn’t I just do it and make the best of it?

  “I suppose you’ve never had sex with a head cold.”

  Val’s sense of humor reasserted itself. “Head colds only stick around for seventy-two hours. They drink all the milk and don’t bring their own Kleenex. Lousy lovers.”

  Jan tickled her, then suggested they move to the bed. She shed the rest of her clothes and lounged on the sheets with her body accessible from every angle. “I don’t care if it takes you all night to reperfect your technique.”

  Val hid a nervous swallow as she pulled her sweater over her head, kicked her shoes off, and shinnied out of her jeans. She straddled Jan’s bare thigh. “Maybe I need a refresher course before I give it a try.”

  Jan sat up and drew Val’s mouth to hers for a sensuous kiss. Her lips descended to chin, to jaw, to throat.

  “Please,” Val whispered. She lifted her breasts to Jan’s mouth, then threw her head back in surrender. She was soon on her back and ecstatically aware that she’d forgotten nothing about what it felt like to be with a woman.

  “It seems to me,” Jan said, after Val had recovered her composure, “that you just spent a long time breathing very hard through your nose.”

  “I did?” Val thought about it. Paper-thin apartment walls had taught her to clamp her mouth shut when she wanted to scream. Jan was right. A slow smile spread over her face. Her sinuses were just fine—she should have tried this sooner. “Well then, come here, woman.”

  “I intend to,” Jan said. She put her hand on the nape of Val’s neck, lightly massaging the taut muscles. Val purred her approval, then let Jan pull her head down.

  Jan was so upfront about having enjoyed Val’s company for the night that Val was only the teensiest bit annoyed when Jan made it very clear that there were no emotional strings attached—Jan was stealing her lines. But they did agree to call each other. It had been too good not to.

  Back in her apartment Val settled in for an afternoon of reading, glad that no one was around to see the silly smile she couldn’t stop. It was good to
know she was fit as a fiddle and ready for love. Plastic surgeons no longer needed to be shot. Yesterday’s gray skies had given way to blue and she pushed the sofa over into the sunlight and stretched out like a cat.

  She woke up ravenous and in a panic because she heard a strange voice in her apartment. A woman’s voice. After a moment she realized it was the answering machine.

  “So let’s have a weekend, okay? Ever been up the coast at all? We could dine out and sleep in.” Jan laughed.

  Val scrambled for the phone. “I was asleep,” she confessed.

  “Funny, I needed a nap this afternoon, too. Then I got to thinking about why and decided to call you.”

  “I’d love to go away for the weekend. Which one?”

  “Weekend after next. Do you want to stay someplace romantic and cozy or—”

  “Someplace with thick walls.”

  Jan chortled. “You read my mind, you wicked girl.”

  “Do we have to wait until then to see each other?”

  “I have a family thing to do next weekend. Sorry.”

  Val sighed. Well, she’d gone without for many moons, so two weeks was a piece of cake. Besides, she had her own work to do. “We’ll just have to make the most of it, then.”

  “I could make a suggestive reply to that, but phone sex is really not my thing.”

  “Okay, I hear the sound of goodbye.”

  “Never goodbye, mah precious one,” Jan oozed, in a thick French accent. “Just ta-ta for now.”

  Val chiseled a box of macaroni and cheese out of the freezer and crossed her fingers while it microwaved that she wouldn’t blow a fuse. She peered at the bubbling contents and decided it wasn’t as old as she had thought. She burned her tongue on the first bite, then gobbled the rest.

  She settled down in front of the computer for the evening to write the core of her next Sunrise article. Tomorrow she could go for a long walk in Golden Gate Park, then out to a renovation project she was overseeing for an absent owner. Monday she had two more appointments with agents. Maybe Mike would get her the demo tape in time for those meetings. If she kept at it long enough someone would take some interest. Surely someone would. Of course they would. Wouldn’t they?

  Chapter 3

  The first glimpse of the small town perched atop the gray-green headlands brought fresh tears to Jamie’s eyes. She willed them away. She wanted to have some semblance of equanimity when she saw Liesel.

  The whitewashed buildings were dazzling in the late-afternoon sun. Offshore, a tall bank of fog waited for its moment to blanket the town in quiet, sending the tourists back to their lodgings or into one of the half-dozen restaurants. She turned off Highway 1 onto Lansing Street. When she passed Union she didn’t turn, but instead continued down the slope of the headland toward the bluffs. When she turned off the engine the first thing she heard was the low lament of the foghorn.

  KatzinJam wandered away from the car to do some private cat business, but Jamie stayed in the car for some time, watching the sun drop behind the fog. In a single moment the bright afternoon dimmed to early evening, and the wind curling through her open window snapped cold against her cheeks. Aunt Emily had loved that moment. How many times had she stopped everything she was doing to step out onto the porch with her coffee to feel the day reclaimed by the relentless pattern of coastal weather? Poor Liesel, she thought suddenly. Another afternoon over and she’s all alone.

  Mendocino was too far from San Francisco for a casual visit. Distance, and a ten-hour workday six days a week, had kept her from visiting Aunt Em since her return from Philadelphia last year. Since deciding to leave Mendocino for cooking school she’d only returned once, over two years ago, and the inevitable meeting with Kathy had damaged her self-esteem so much she just couldn’t risk it again, not until she’d done something, made her mark, anything that helped her hold her head up under the torment of Kathy’s flaying tongue. She wondered if learning to cope with Marcus would help. She was sure to meet Kathy if she stayed in Mendo for any length of time.

  She’d written Aunt Em weekly—sometimes more often. She sent her a videotape the school made of her class. Aunt Em mentioned Kathy only in passing in her letters. She knew why Jamie stayed away so long. In one letter Aunt Em sent a recipe for spanakoppita, noting, with a touch of wistfulness, that she hadn’t made it in thirty-five years because it reminded her too vividly of her first love. All wounds heal, she’d written, but they do take time. Jamie had wondered then if she was trying to comfort her. Most likely. And what a letter writer Aunt Em had been. Almost a lost art in an electronic world.

  Her thoughts wandered as she watched the mist gain its first inch of rocky land. As it crept toward her car she inhaled the salty aroma on the wind and let the sound of seagulls and waves fill her ears. She was home. It had been too long.

  KatzinJam was gnawing on Jamie’s overnight bag by the time Jamie pulled up in front of the house Aunt Em and Liesel had shared after selling the Waterview. Liesel had two cats, so Jamie assured Katz there was food forthcoming.

  Liesel opened the door before Jamie was halfway up the walk, her arms spread in greeting. They wrapped around Jamie with a fierceness that warmed Jamie’s aching heart.

  “I knew you’d come,” Liesel whispered in her ear. “She wanted it this way. I wanted to call you, but she wanted it this way.” The rest was lost in a rush of heartfelt German that Jamie half-understood from Liesel’s early attempt to make her bilingual.

  They sat over Delft blue demitasses of Liesel’s incredibly strong coffee. Liesel welcomed KatzinJam, told Hansel and Gretel to be friendly, and set KatzinJam in front of the food dish. Jamie was amazed that the three animals didn’t even spit at one another, but Liesel had that effect on animals and people. On everyone but Kathy, actually.

  Jamie had never been in the house, but the cups, the table, the linens, the aroma of chicken broth from the familiar stockpot on the stove, the jolt of the coffee on her nerves—they were all home. She felt parts of her filling up that she hadn’t realized were empty. But the biggest emptiness, she knew, would remain.

  “It was her pancreas. The cancer was there. Do you remember when she was ill last winter?” Jamie nodded. Liesel’s rolling R was delightful to hear. “That was when they found it. She was having that chemotherapy and after two months of not being able to keep a spoonful of anything in her stomach for more than an hour she stopped going. She had lost thirty-five pounds—imagine that.”

  It was hard to imagine. Aunt Em had been a large woman, broad-shouldered and tall. Rubenesque, Liesel had always said. Still, thirty-five pounds would have left her gaunt. “But the picture she sent, she looked wonderful.”

  Liesel was nodding. “Yes, as soon as she stopped that chemotherapy she felt better. She hadn’t felt ill before it, but the doctors said go, so she went. But when they looked again, after the two months, they said there was no improvement and with the treatments she would live perhaps eighteen months. Without it, probably not even a year. She said she wasn’t going to make her last months of life an agony. She stopped going and felt much better for quite a while.”

  “I wish she’d told me.”

  “You were just settling into your life. She didn’t want you to give it all up to worry over her. I think she was afraid you’d try to convince her she should go back for treatments.”

  “I might have.” Jamie sipped the coffee and let it zigzag through her nerves. The way Liesel made it should be illegal.

  “When she began to feel ill it happened very quickly. She was worse every day. It happened so fast. I expected it, but I was still stunned when she…” Liesel bowed her head over her cup.

  “I know.” Jamie patted Liesel’s hand. “Don’t relive it, liebchen.”

  They sat in silence while the dusk turned to night. Liesel stirred, finally, saying, “I’ve made some dumpling soup. I knew you would be here today. It will only take a few minutes to finish.”

  Dumplings…oh my. Liesel’s dumplings floated on bro
th in defiance of gravity. Jamie set the table, automatically falling into the routine of life before she had left home. One of the first things Aunt Em had taught was that a set table was a sign of civilized behavior. Liesel ladled the rich soup into thick stoneware bowls patterned with delicate wildflowers—wildflowers Jamie had looked at every day of her life since arriving in Aunt Em’s home.

  Like the German chocolate cookies, the soup was incredibly comforting. Liesel was more of a gossip than her aunt had been, so Jamie caught up on what was behind a divorce Aunt Em had mentioned and shared Liesel’s outrage that a new merchant was petitioning to widen Lansing Street to four lanes.

  The bed Liesel tucked her into, just as if Jamie were twelve again, was the one she’d always known, from the room on the third floor that had been hers. She could almost smell Aunt Emily’s apple cobbler in the oven and hear the scratchy Louis Armstrong recordings that had often brightened an evening.

  KatzinJam curled up as close as possible to the middle of the bed and before she would have thought possible, Jamie was asleep.

  Banana pancakes greeted her in the morning and Jamie heeded Liesel’s advice to visit old stomping grounds and see if she could find Jacob O’Rhuan, who had disposed of Aunt Em’s ashes.

  Jacob was easy to find. When Jamie opened the front door, he was on the steps.

  “Come away in,” Liesel called from the kitchen.

  “I thought you’d be here,” Jacob said in his booming voice. “Do I smell pancakes, m’darling?”

  Jamie let herself be drawn back into the house and even ate another pancake while Jacob downed six or seven.

  “She told me I’d know where a good place was, and she was right. I automatically went out to my favorite place to watch the tide. Where you can see the town but not the cars and people. Nice place.” He forked the last bite of pancake into his mouth, chewed thoughtfully and added, “I’ve got a tourist charter tomorrow. If you crew for me I’ll take you by.”