Falling Together (51 page)

“We were
all
connected!” protested Pen. “I adored you.”

“Of course, you did, both of you,” said Cat. “I’m adorable! I was your darling, your angel, yours and Will’s, which is precisely what I wanted to be. But you were the ones who belonged together. I was meant to leave, eventually, to go away and grow up. You two were the ones who were meant to go the distance. Will, back me up here.”

Will said, “You don’t need backup; you’re doing fine.”

“You think she’s right?” asked Pen reproachfully.

“Why are you sad about this?” said Will. Under the table, he grabbed her hand. “I mean, I know why you’re sad about this, but you don’t have to be. It doesn’t take anything away.”

“Maybe not,” said Pen doubtfully. “I need more time to think about it.”

“I wish we had more time,” said Cat sadly.

Pen blinked. “But we do. We can. We can change our ticket back to Cebu. Or you can come back with us.”

Cat was shaking her head. “I need to be with Marisol, now. It wasn’t easy for her to leave her job and her family to come here with me. We’re heading off to a different island for a few more days. It might be the only time we have to get to know each other, alone, for a while.”

“She has a family?” asked Will, then said, “Oh, the Lolas. Is that where she lives?”

Cat smiled. “‘The Lolas.’ Aren’t they magnificent? Jason told me that you were there.”

“They’re goddesses,” said Pen.

“Exactly what I thought when I met them,” said Cat. “Yes, Marisol and her husband and her little boy, my
nephew,
if you can believe it, live in the small house in back, the one painted yellow.”

“You know, we might have met them,” said Will. “We met a lot of people.”

“You did meet her mother. Jason said so,” said Cat. “Lola Graciela.”

“So, wait a minute,” said Pen, confused. “Your father was married to Lola Graciela? They lived at his family’s house?”

“Briefly,” said Cat. “That is, they were married briefly. But she’s lived at his family’s house for close to forty years.”

“Wow, so even after he left, she stayed, she and Marisol,” said Will. “That’s pretty amazing.”

“They don’t find it amazing, I don’t think,” said Cat. “Marisol and her mom were part of the family by then. It’s just how they do things here.”

“You’re lucky,” said Pen a little wistfully, “to be part of that.”

“I am straight-up blessed,” said Cat with fervor.

She stood up and waved to Marisol, who began to gather her belongings, and Will stood, too. Pen knew he couldn’t help it, that it was his dyed-in-the-wool courtliness kicking in, but she felt betrayed. There they both stood, as if standing up were fine, as if anyone could possibly be leaving.

“Wait!” said Pen, flustered. “Sit down! We need to make a plan. When will we see you? When are you coming back?”

“Oh,” said Cat blankly, “I thought I told you. I’m not.”

“You mean never?” said Will.

“Well, I don’t know,” said Cat slowly. “I’m extending my visit for as long as I can, and then, well, I’m thinking of applying for permanent residency.”

She didn’t meet their eyes but began rummaging through her tote bag. She took out a small, bright red leather case, out of which she pulled a card.

Reluctantly, Pen got to her feet.
She is not actually going to hand me a business card,
thought Pen, but that’s just what Cat did. Pen stared down at it without really seeing it.

“It’s my e-mail address,” said Cat.

She walked around the table and hugged Pen.

“I loved seeing you,” she said. “Be happy together—that’s an order!”

Pen pulled back to look at Cat. “You’re saying good-bye?”

That’s when Pen saw it, a glimmer of impatience passing over Cat’s vivid, black-eyed, smiling face.
She has moved on,
Pen understood with bewildered shock.
We are only part of who she used to be, not of who she is now.

“I might have to come back to deal with the divorce or pack my things or something,” said Cat. “In which case, I will definitely and absolutely call you.”

Pen knew when she was being thrown a bone, but, still, she said, “But we only just found you!”

“I know,” said Cat regretfully.

She put her arms around Will and kissed his cheek. Then she put her sunglasses on and gave them both a winsome, affectionate smile.

“And I will stay found. I promise,” she told them. “But I also have to stay here.”

B
ECAUSE
P
EN AND
A
UGUSTA HAD A SIX-HOUR LAYOVER IN
N
EW
York and, more significantly, because Pen and Will could not stand the thought of saying good-bye to each other, when their plane landed at JFK, they rented a car and drove to Philadelphia. It was just the three of them, Jason having decided to remain in the Philippines for “a few more days.”

“I’m not staying because I think I can talk Cat into changing her mind,” he had told them. “I know when I’m beat. I guess I just can’t stand the thought of going home to our empty house, yet.”

Will and Pen hadn’t really believed him, but if they had learned anything about Jason, and they had learned a lot, it was that, once he had made up his mind to do something, there was no talking him out of it.

“He’s steadfast,” said Pen admiringly, “persevering.”

“Delusional,” added Will, “quixotic.” But Pen could tell that Will admired him, too.

Jason had gone with them to the airport in Cebu, and before she had left him, after Augusta had cried and covered his face with kisses and Will had shaken his hand and told him to keep in touch, Pen had grabbed him by his enormous shoulders and said, “Listen to me: you keep the faith, all right? You will find someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved. I know it,” and he had given her a crooked smile and said, “Isn’t it weird how you kind of like me, now?” and Pen had agreed that it was.

At a rest stop, Will called a hotel near Jamie’s apartment and reserved a room.

“You could stay with us,” Pen told him.

He had leaned in almost close enough to kiss her and, with a wicked gleam in his green, gold, orange eyes, said, “Or—you could stay with me.”

When they were about half an hour away, Pen called Jamie on his cell phone to tell him they were coming.

“Did you find her?” he asked.

“We did,” Pen told him, settling in. “It’s kind of a long story, but basically, she went there to (a) leave her husband and (b) find her—”

“Yeah, yeah. Details later,” said Jamie cutting her off. “Cut to the chase: Is Cat still smokin’ hot or what?”

“You’re a degenerate,” said Pen.

“Just hurry up and bring my Gusty girl home, okay? I’ll leave work early.”

Pen smiled. “You miss the crushed goldfish crackers all over the floor, don’t you?”

“And I’m getting way too much sleep,” said Jamie. “It’s completely out of hand.”

As soon as Pen opened the door of the apartment, Augusta was a blur of hair and skinny legs and wild screeches, rushing Jamie like a miniature linebacker.

“Oof!” he said, staggering backward. “What were they feeding you in the Philippines?”

“Pizza!” shrieked Augusta. “And
pancit
! And the weensiest bananas you never saw!”

“You’re right,” said Jamie pulling her onto his lap and smiling at Pen through Augusta’s tangled hair. “I never did.”

For a moment, Pen just stood, watching them, until she noticed the flowers on the table, calla lilies, tall, white, posing like fashion models in a curvaceous vase.

“Jamie! You bought us flowers!”

Jamie gave the flowers a sidelong glance. “Uh, yeah, well, welcome home, right? Hey, where are the rest of your bags?”

“Oh,” said Pen, with a wink at Augusta, “they’ll be here shortly.”

“Shhh,” Augusta told Jamie. “It’s a surprise.”

When Jamie saw Will, he set Augusta on the ground and stood up. “Will Wadsworth, as I live and breathe. So good to see you, man.”

“Good to see you, too, Jamie,” said Will, grinning. “You got me flowers and everything.”

“Come here, you little ray of sunshine,” said Jamie, and he walked across the room and clenched Will in a hug that caused him to grimace and say, “I guess you started working out since I last saw you.”

“Being famous must agree with you,” said Jamie. “You look good, brother.”

“Not ‘brother,’” Pen said quickly. “Anything else but ‘brother.’”

Jamie stared at Pen, and then a smile started in his eyes and spread across his face. “Well, maybe ‘brother-in-law’ would be a better choice?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, big guy,” said Pen.

“Smartest thing you’ve ever done. One of the only smart things you’ve ever done,” said Jamie to Pen. “What happened over there? Did you get hit on the head with a coconut?”

“Anyway, I was thinking I’d move in here, too,” said Will, sizing up the apartment. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Pen knew he was joking, but for a few seconds, she was transported back to the Lolas’ house, grandmothers, babies, nephews, sisters, everyone together, and she felt a pang of longing.

“Hey,” said Jamie, opening his hands in welcome, “always room for one more.”

L
ATER
, P
EN WOULD WONDER IF
W
ILL HAD PLANNED TO TELL HER
right away, as soon as she arrived at his hotel room, because when he opened the door, he wasn’t smiling. His face was unusually serious, taut and focused and full of intention, but overcome by her own intentions, Pen didn’t let him say anything, just stepped inside and pulled him into her, sliding her hands under his shirt, so that before the door was even closed, he was pressing her against it, lifting a fistful of hair to kiss her neck, her collarbone, and a minute went by filled with nothing but the ragged noise of their breathing, before he pulled away and said, “Wait.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want to wait,” Pen said, gasping, thinking he was worried about rushing her, his innate sense of chivalry compelling him to slow down, which turned out to be true, but not in the way she thought.

“Before we do this, there’s something I have to tell you,” he said, and despite his solemn tone, she wouldn’t have been afraid, except that when she looked into his eyes, that’s what she saw there: fear. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Can you sit for a second?” he asked. “And let me talk to you?”

“No,” she said, her voice pleading, like a child’s voice. “Please. Let’s not talk right now.”

“We have to. I’m sorry. I should have told you this before.”

She shivered, took a breath, and instead of sitting on the bed next to him, she walked over to an ottoman a few feet away, sat on its very edge, and folded her hands in her lap.
Let him not be sick. Oh God, let him not be dying.

“I was at your father’s funeral,” said Will.

This was so unexpected that it took Pen a few seconds to understand what he had said. She shook head. “No.”

“I didn’t follow Cat’s rule, about not looking each other up. I read it online, first the newspaper report, then the obituary, and I came.”

“So I was right. You were there.” For a moment, all she could do was marvel at the fact that she had sensed him—and she had felt his presence in the church more acutely than she had felt anything all that long, numb day—and, lo and behold, she had been right. But as the awful implications of his having been there began to dawn on her, the wonder and satisfaction dissipated, and she demanded, “Why? What was the point of coming if you didn’t even let me see you?”

“I came into the church before it got crowded, and I saw you right away, just the back of your head, but that was enough to know it was you. I saw your mom next to you, and I saw Augusta, sitting on your lap.”

“Augusta.” At the mention of Augusta, she slid back on the ottoman, farther away from him. “Did you know she was my daughter? Did you even know I had a daughter?”

“Not until I read the obituary.”

“But if you knew about her before you came, why would that stop you from coming up to me?”