Past, Present And A Future. Janice Carter

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СКАЧАТЬ men turned around as she walked past them down the steps and headed straight for her car. She heard Gil following virtually on her heels while calling out a last goodbye. He didn’t speak until they were buckling up their seat belts and the engine was running.

      “I hope this isn’t an inconvenience.”

      Now he worries about that. Clare mumbled a no and pulled away from the curb, craning back to see Laura and Dave waving from the porch. Her glance took in Gil, staring straight ahead.

      His profile was all angles and sharp edges, from the slightly hawkish nose to a jaw more formidable than the one she recalled. He’d always had a dark, broodish air about him and the years had further defined that quality. His long fingers drummed nervously on his kneecaps and for an unsettling second Clare had a vivid memory of those fingers on her, tracing an invisible line up and down the inside of her arm. He used to tease her about how ticklish she was there and liked to hear her beg him to stop.

      She felt a sudden chill and clicked on the heat, tempted to also turn on the radio to fill up the tense silence. When he mumbled something about the weather, she was torn between relief that she didn’t have to think of anything to say and sadness that small talk was all they now had between them.

      When she braked at the first stop sign, Gil asked, “Do you remember how to get to my place?”

      “Oh, yes,” she said, aware at once of the edge in her voice.

      “Will you be staying long?”

      No longer than I have to, she wanted to say. “Until Monday. I’ve another signing in Hartford.”

      More silence. “Have you gotten any feedback about your book from people here in Twin Falls?”

      “Just Dave and Laura. I don’t keep in touch with anyone else from the old gang.”

      “Me, neither.”

      She drove into the housing tract where she, Laura and Gil had grown up. Gil’s house was at the farthest edge of it, just before the Visit Again sign where the road turned into highway. But when she turned onto Glendale Road, expecting to see the rows of bungalows she remembered, Clare was shocked. Scarcely half a dozen remained, including Gil’s father’s place at the very end.

      “Good heavens!” Clare exclaimed, pulling over to the curb.

      “Surprised?”

      “Shocked.” She turned to look at him. “I guess I expected it all to look the same.”

      “Unfortunately Twin Falls hasn’t escaped the tear-down epidemic of the big city. It’s a real commuter town now.” Gil stared out the window at his childhood home. “I don’t anticipate any problems selling the house.”

      Struck by the tone in his voice, she asked, “Isn’t that a good thing?”

      “I guess. Just that the place is my last link to Twin Falls. Once it goes…”

      He didn’t need to finish. Clare knew exactly what he meant to say. “But isn’t that also a good thing?” she asked softly.

      His face, turned to hers, was impassive. “Do you think so?”

      Clare’s eyes held his a long uncomfortable moment before flicking back to the windshield and the street beyond. She wasn’t certain what he meant, but suspected he was veering the talk onto shaky ground and decided to keep quiet. The silence in the car became so stifling she had to put the window down. The engine idled gently at the curb.

      “What part of New York do you live in?” he suddenly asked.

      “Chelsea.”

      “Oh, yeah? Nice area.”

      Another pause. He seemed in no hurry to get out of the car. “And what about you?” she asked. “Where do you live now?”

      “New York.”

      “New York City?”

      His eyes met hers. “Yes.”

      Clare looked away. She couldn’t believe the man she’d been trying to forget for the last several years had been living under her nose. Well, sort of. Give or take a few million other people. Still, what perverse hand of fate had led both of them to the same city?

      “I’ve got a condo on the East Side,” he went on.

      When she found her voice, she asked, “How long have you been there?”

      “About five years. I got a job at a law firm in Manhattan a couple years after I was called to the bar.”

      Clare jerked her head back to him. “You’re a lawyer?”

      A faint smile crossed his face. “Yeah. Ironic, isn’t it?” Then he pushed down on the door handle. “Thanks for the lift, Clare. See you tomorrow.” His long legs swung out and, without looking back, he closed the door behind him.

      Clare sat unmoving until he disappeared inside the small bungalow. How strange life is, she mused. Gil Harper—once suspected of murdering his ex-girlfriend—now a lawyer.

      “COFFEE?”

      Clare raised her head from the book she was signing. One of the store clerks was standing at her left side. “Yes, please. Double double.”

      The clerk grinned. “Gotcha,” and vanished into the cluster of people milling around the table. Clare smiled at the middle-aged woman waiting in front of her and pushed the novel across the table.

      “Thank you very much,” the woman said. “I bought it for my daughter. I thought she’d be interested in knowing Twin Falls can boast a real live author. We just moved here from Hartford and she thinks it’s like living on another planet.”

      Clare figured the daughter was closer to the truth than the woman could have imagined. And at that moment, she was feeling neither real nor alive. It was eleven-thirty and she’d only signed about twenty-five books, which wasn’t bad for a bookstore in a place the size of Twin Falls, but already her fingers were cramped, her back ached and her stomach was rumbling. Yet how could she complain? Each book she signed contributed to the royalty checks that supported her now that she’d left teaching for a full-time writing career.

      The clerk returned with a take-out coffee and set it near her elbow. “Anything else?’ she asked.

      “Maybe another right hand.”

      The younger woman smiled and left Clare to it. She signed three more books and, as the line began to dissipate, sipped slowly on the coffee and closed her eyes, waiting for the jolt of caffeine to course through her.

      “You look tired.”

      Clare’s eyes flew open at the familiar voice. Gil Harper was standing in front of the table. In his black cords, dove-gray crewneck pullover and leather blazer—all complimenting his ebony hair and dark eyes—he was drawing quite a few glances from nearby women. He held a worn copy of her book and handed it to her when she set her coffee down.

      An inscription of some kind was necessary, of course. СКАЧАТЬ