Finding Isadora (26 page)

I glanced at Gabriel and he gave a rueful shake of his head, which seemed to express everything I
’d been thinking. We’d shared a lot tonight, and I felt amazingly close to him. Too close.

With an effort, I refocused on what we
’d been discussing. “Richard’s a good man,” I told his father as I got into the car.

Gabriel went around and climbed in the driver side, adjusting the seat for his long legs.
“You’d know better than I. He doesn’t tell me much about himself.”

“
He doesn’t think you approve of his career choice.”

He shrugged.
“Corporate law. I’d rather he’d been a crusader.”

“
He loves the work. He makes good money but that’s not the main reason he does it. It really fascinates him.”

He swallowed hard.
“I didn’t know that.” After he pulled away from the curb, he said, “We don’t talk much. I never know what to say to him. Nor he to me.”

“
Richard’s never come right out and said this, but I’d bet he doesn’t like disappointing you. Children, no matter how old they are, want to make their parents proud. He knows his career choice isn’t what you wanted, so he doesn’t tell you about his work.”

“
And I don’t discuss mine because he resents it.”

“
The two of you need to clear the air. He has a lot of bitterness and resentment, as you know. And you have guilt, and maybe some resentment too.”

He cocked his head in my direction.
“Guilt, yeah. But how d’you come up with resentment?”

“
If Diane hadn’t gotten pregnant with Richard, you wouldn’t have been tied down. You could have lived the way you wanted to.”

“
That’s not Richard’s fault.”

“
Of course not. But emotions aren’t logical.” I gulped, thinking how true that was when it came to my own. “All I’m saying is, I don’t think there’s much hope for you and Richard unless you expose the real issues between you. Maybe you can open the lines of communication, get to understand each other better.”

He made a noncommittal hmph sound.

“Deep down, I think he wants to know that you love him, Gabriel. That you think he’s a good person and accept him for who he is. Sure, he didn’t turn out like you, but you have yourself to blame for that. You never included him in your life. For him, your work was the competition and it always won.”

“
Damn, Isadora, you cut to the bone, don’t you?”

I wanted to touch him, to lay my hand on his leg, his arm, his shoulder. Safer not to.
“Sometimes you have to, if the wound has any hope of healing.”

“
Seems to me that anything I’d do now with Richard would be too little, too late. Like with that damned dog, tonight.”

I studied his profile, noted the tension in his jaw.
“Seems to
me,
trying counts for a lot.”

“
Trying. We’re back to that.”

We drove in silence for a while. I was exhausted from stress and lack of sleep, but not sleepy. My body was alive with a nervous, buzzing energy. The same kind of feeling as when I worked so long I passed through tiredness into some altered state where I felt like I could go on forever. Gabriel made me thoroughly uncomfortable, yet I didn
’t want the evening to end. “My parents told me about the meeting Saturday night.”

“
Yeah. Good meeting.”

“
You’re going to launch a class action suit?”

“
Looks that way. It’s a disgrace what the government’s doing to those people. Endangering their health and robbing them of their pride.”

He was right. Even in the cases where health wasn
’t at risk, people with disabilities shouldn’t be forced to live a sub-standard existence, to be treated as if they were second class. “Sounds like it’s going to be a lot of work.”

“
Yeah.” He shot a quick glance in my direction then grinned. “But it’s a change. A challenge.”

“
You like the work, don’t you? I mean, you don’t just do it because…”

“
Because I’m a do-gooder? Hell, no. If a person’s going to spend most of their life doing something, they’d better like it. I’m lucky. Found a job that suits me, working for causes I believe in.”

I nodded.

“Like you,” he said, surprising me.

“
Me?”

“
You love animals, you care about animal rights, and you love your job. Yes?”

“
Yes, but…”

We
’d stopped at an intersection and, when he turned toward me, I saw his eyes shine in the light from the streetlights. He, too, was still wide awake and alert.

“
You know what you said about corporate law?” I said. “How you’d rather Richard had chosen something you consider more worthwhile? Well, I keep thinking I should be doing something more worthwhile. Not necessarily with my career, because I can’t imagine not being a vet, but in my spare time. More volunteer work. With people, not animals.”

He stared at me, then threw back his head and laughed. Someone behind us honked. The light had turned green and Gabriel pulled away, still laughing.
“
That’s
why you sounded apologetic about being a vet, at that fundraiser dinner. Isadora Dean Wheeler believes animals aren’t as important as people.”

“
I … guess that’s true. I love them, they enrich my life, but…”

“
And they enrich other people’s lives. Remember what I said about art? How it’s so important? Well, so are animals. They provide comfort to old people, friendship to kids.” He paused. “They’re the only source of love some people have.”

And what was the source of love in his life, since he
’d rejected Diane and Richard? Girlfriends? But hot sex was something very different from love. Was Gabriel such a macho guy that he was happy without love?

“
Well?” he said.

“
I agree with everything you said.”

Perhaps he heard some reservation in my voice because he said,
“What kind of volunteer work would you do, that would make you feel you were really making a contribution?”

“
I guess the kind of things Grace and Jimmy Lee do. Soup kitchens, needle exchanges, programs for sex trade workers and other street people. The disability rights work.”

“
Then do something like that.”

“
So you
are
saying you don’t think I do enough.”

He shook his head impatiently.
“Hell, Isadora, you’re the one who’s saying it. I’m not judging you. Grace and Jimmy Lee aren’t either. But you are. So, if you’re unhappy with yourself, fix the problem.”

He made it sound so easy. And yet, he was right. Why not stop fussing about the issue and do something? As Richard was. As I
’d told Gabriel to do, with respect to his son.

Wasn
’t it interesting that Gabriel could give me such easy “just fix it” advice when he couldn’t come to terms with his own problems? It was another thing we had in common.

We
’d reached the West End and I noted he remembered the way to my apartment. For once there was a parking spot near the building and Gabriel pulled the car in, then turned off the ignition.

“
Thanks for the ride,” I said, glancing toward him.

His expression was enigmatic.
“You’re not an easy person to be with.”

I snorted.
“Gee, thanks. And do you like people who are easy to be with?”

“
Not much,” he said cheerfully.

He opened the driver
’s door and, as I clambered out of the car, he walked around to join me. “You’re a strange woman. You can be downright stupid, like about this
contribution
garbage. But more often, you’re wise and insightful.”

He snapped his fingers.
“Just figured it out. You’re wise about other people’s lives. Stupid when it comes to your own.”

“
Thanks very much,” I said tartly. “Should I point out that the pot just called the kettle black?”

My answer was a hoot of surprised laughter.
“Damn, woman.” Gabriel gave me a considering look. “Most women in their twenties are boring as hell.” That almost sounded like a compliment. The second, in the space of a minute.

He walked with me to the door of the building and I fumbled in my bag, finally pulling out my keys. Did he expect me to invite him in? For a moment, under the sickly glow of artificial lights, we stared at each other. Did I want to invite him in?

Gabriel broke away first, turning on heel. Over his shoulder he said, “Night, Isadora,” as he strode toward his car.

“
Night, Gabriel,” I called, softly so as not to wake the people sleeping behind the curtained windows. So softly I wasn’t sure if he heard me.

* * *

Feeling as confused and conflicted as I ever had in my life, I let myself into my apartment. Pogo’s familiar warm greeting, Owl’s “bout time you got home, cutie,” and a soft ankle-wrap from Alice’s tail were all welcome.

I pulled my cell from my purse. I
’d had it off when I was at work and hadn’t turned it on since I left. There were two messages. The first was from Grace, telling me news I’d already heard, about Cassie McKenzie’s recovery. The second was from Richard.

The moment I heard his voice, guilt ground through me and I realized my head was starting to ache. Normally I wasn
’t prone to tension headaches, but Gabriel DeLuca had this effect on me. Gabriel, or guilt. Or perhaps they were one and the same.

Realizing I hadn
’t actually listened to Richard’s message, I replayed it. He said the merger was going well and he hoped we could have dinner on Tuesday night. Tuesday. It was past midnight, so Tuesday was today.

I was so tired and frazzled I couldn
’t remember my own schedule, and went to check. The sheet was clipped to the fridge door by a ceramic magnet made by one of the clinic’s young clients, supposedly representing Benjie, his beagle.

Today I
’d be working the afternoon and evening shift. What a relief; I could sleep in. And a reprieve. I’d have more time to grapple with my troubling emotions before I saw Richard.

Rotating my shoulders to ease the ache, I wandered into the living room. The gift of time felt precious. How should I use it? A bath and some headache rub? A walk with Pogo? Or just a tumble into bed, with no thought of an alarm clock waking me?

I’d left my couch pulled out into a bed, and now I saw Peek-a-boo was fast asleep on my pillow. The sight warmed me. When Peek had first come home with me, he’d skittered out of the cat carrier and disappeared, not to be seen again for days. It had taken him a couple of weeks before he’d let me catch even a glimpse of him, a cringing shadow as he slipped into the kitchen after I’d put out food and retreated to the main room.

I dropped gently down on the edge of the bed and he startled awake, leaping to his feet and arching his back.
“It’s okay Peek,” I murmured, “it’s only me.” I began to chant one of Martin’s Cree healing songs. Slowly the cat relaxed enough to lie down again, though he kept his head erect, eying me through slitted golden eyes.

Surprisingly, my headache
had eased.

* * *

When I woke around eight, I took Pogo out for a pit stop then phoned Richard. For once, I was happy to get voice-mail. “I’m glad the merger’s coming along well,” I said. “As for dinner, I’m working tonight, but tomorrow would be good. Hope that works for you.” Should I mention his conversation with Gabriel? Should I let on that I’d seen his dad? No, not in voice-mail. We’d talk when we were together. “Love you, sweetheart.”

I did love him. A couple of weeks ago I
’d had absolutely no doubts and my future with Richard had looked rosy. Now…

Sorting out my feelings was my top priority for the morning. I made the bed back into a couch, brewed a pot of tea, toasted a bagel, and went through my stack of CDs, looking for something that might inspire me.

My hand stopped on a collection of old Joni Mitchell favorites and I remembered someone had been singing “Both Sides Now” the night I met Gabriel. Closing my eyes, the exact memory came back. A husky female contralto lamenting that she really didn’t know love at all.

Did I? Did Isadora Dean Wheeler know love? I
’d been sure of it until Gabriel came into my life.

More of Joni Mitchell
’s lyrics came back to me, about the “dizzy, dancing” way that you feel when you’re in love. I’d never felt that way with Richard. But the words described, perfectly, the way I felt around Gabriel. Except that was lust, not love. I could never love a man who was so totally wrong for me.

The song went on about fairy tales becoming real. Well, Richard was my fairy tale prince, the man who offered me security, stability, the kind of love I
’d always craved. Everything except that dizzy, dancing feeling.