The Jewel Box (40 page)

“Blondie I really need to see you. Wouldya come by and bring me a Coke tomorrow?”

His request took me by surprise. I stalled until he cleared his throat several times. “Wood eye?” I broke the silence. “Just give me directions and I’ll try to take a long lunch.”

“Try?”

“I promise to fly by for a few.” I gave in. Beau wasn’t around to clip my tail feathers.

“See ya, Blondie.”

At lunchtime I drove to Gabriel’s job site, and then sat in my car twisting the brass buttons on my military style suit, wising I’d worn something simpler to work. Apprehension finally triggered more adrenaline, giving me enough courage to walk inside. Gabriel was nowhere in sight, so I wandered through the gargantuan house until I saw him jotting notes into his planner. I nervously leaned against a door jamb while sawdust flew around me, and watched him write a few things until he finally noticed me. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, making him look slightly older, and his hair seemed slightly thinner. His grim expression went auto-smile when he saw me. He closed his book, walked toward me, placed a quick kiss on my cheek, and ushered me out of the room filled with workers. I almost tripped over my own four feet. “Sawdust intoxication,” I explained.

“Watch out.” He grabbed my elbow as Ben sailed around the corner carrying a large piece of lumber. Ben lifted his chin to salute me, leaned the wood against a wall, then marched over and delighted me with a gentle hug. He wasn’t as gruff as he pretended either. I hugged him and offered condolences for Gloria’s ailing. “And how is lovely Mei?” I asked.

“She’s running O’Quinn Brother’s now. Does all our bookkeeping, accounting, purchasing, and any other tasks we despise. She loves it.”

“That’s terrific. Never hurts to be family owned and operated. Like the Mafia.”

“Yeah, if only we were making that kind of money,” Ben said with timorous modesty.

“Now you sound like your brother. Hundred thousand a year is hardly abject poverty.”

Before Ben could respond, Gabriel walked over and ran his forefinger across the hash marks on my suit sleeve. “Admiral Halsey’s taking me for a Coke. I’ll be back soon.”

Something of his aura of serene self-confidence had visibly diminished and he seemed almost vulnerable.

“You can slip out of your apron faster than most men slip out of their wedding rings,” I said as he tossed his carpenter’s apron aside. His ring finger still conspicuously void of jewelry.

“C’mon, I need to get out of here.” He placed his hand against my elbow.

His voice, his smell, his touch, and my anxiety caused me to stumble over a board on the foyer floor as we left. He grinned, shook his head slowly, and called me a klutz. Didn’t he understand why I became the clumsiest woman on earth in his presence? Didn’t he know it had to do with Budweiser, Kool-Aid cocktails; sawdust; pasties; “Got a dollar for the jukebox?”; “I’d do just about anything for a piece of ass”; Woodstock; The Berlin Wall; tiptoes; sinkin’ spells; Vietnam; Desert Storm; sunrise; sunset; harelips; wood eyes; Dick Cavett; David Letterman; the real thing; that’s a fact and not a fiction; yada, yada, yada. Jeez, was I too complex for him?

We stopped at a convenience store just as a fine mist of rain began turning the sky a shade darker. He handed me my diet Coke, and I followed his directions and drove to a spot near Memorial Park that was shaded by enormous trees. Once parked, I stole glimpses of his delicious profile as he sipped his Coca-Cola and talked about Gloria. The strength he once radiated was drained and that made me sad. He gently rubbed my right arm, and then reached over to me. I froze.
Don’t be an idiot! Don’t let him weaken you. Not now, not ever again
. My intention to soothe his concerns for Gloria had gone awry. I moved away from him and raised the radio volume just as
This Old Heart of Mine
by the Isley Brothers was ending.

“What station is that?”

“KLDE. They play oldies and lots of Motown.”

“Yeaaah, I listen to talk radio mostly. Oh crap,” he groaned as
Yester-Me, Yester-You, Yesterday
by Stevie Wonder came across the air waves. Moving swifter than usual, he reached over and turned the volume down, then looked at me. “Can’t take that today.” He shook his head.

“Sorry.” I looked out the window.

“I need one of your hugs in the worst way,” he whispered.

Thawing slightly, I leaned into him and acknowledged a coincidental inclination. Once again he had intensified the need. The ache. After we embraced he cleared his throat. I wanted to speak but he knew everything I
had to say. Everything I felt for him. He leaned back in the passenger seat, seeming a little more relaxed as the rain picked up its rate of speed.

I looked at his hand resting on his leg, then glanced upward at the pewter buttons on his jeans, took a quick breath, and looked forward. How many times had I touched those buttons or felt them pressed against me? God, why couldn’t he have been one of those sloppy, inconsiderate, two minute men instead of one who found foreplay more pleasurable than Monday night football? Maybe then my memories would be less vivid.

“What ya thinkin’ Blondie?”

“Oh, nothing.” I tried to shake tantalizing thoughts.

“What have we done with our lives?” he asked, in contemplative tone.

I wasn’t about to let him shift this into a somber
The Way We Were
mini-drama, knowing one wrong reaction could break down the defense mechanism I’d been working to fortify. “Obviously we’ve screwed up big time, Gabriel. We’re too old to have been crack babies and knowing our mothers, we can rule out fetal-alcohol syndrome. The blame falls on us. But we’re not the types to cry over foolish mistakes, are we?”

“Christ, we’d need Noah and his ark,” he said dryly.

Thunder boomed around us.

“Hope this doesn’t grow into a tornado. Although I wouldn’t mind drifting up into the sky today. Like Dorothy and Toto.”

“This ain’t Kansas, Blondie.” He let go a tiny grin. “But if you pass through Topeka, mention my name to Murray.”

“Beau told me old ‘Mention My Name in Topeka’ died shortly after the Jewel Box closed, but I’ll always think of him when someone mentions Topeka.”

“Yeaaah, me too,” he responded softly.

I went mute as my mind rolled onto Beau. Now was not the time to wallow in Jewel Box memories. Gabriel stopped talking as our old comfortable silence returned. Like the quietness that once lingered in our home when we were doing separate things, but feeling content in each other’s presence. I had to shake that pleasant feeling. As rain fell against the windshield, Gabriel smiled. He loved having a front row seat for Mother Nature’s theatrics. I stared forward and shared his view, then felt his gaze on me. Our physical closeness hindered my breathing.

“What ya thinkin’ now, Blondie?”

“That I’d better get back to work.”

“Yeaaaah. . .” His voice drifted off and he cracked his knuckles before staring absently down at his hand. Aretha Franklin began crooning
Natural Woman
in the background. “We need to get back before we get in trouble.”

I stayed composed enough to reiterate my regrets about Gloria’s illness, before cranking my engine to drive back to his work site. He reached over and gently kissed my cheek and we looked at each other in a puzzling sort of way as he jumped out of my car. I waved goodbye and he cupped his hand over his mouth, blowing several kisses as he walked backwards into the house, getting drenched. I was tempted to honk my horn twice, but something kept my hands firmly attached to the steering wheel. Most likely that “something” was my spiritual guide named Beau.

Aidan accepted the job in California and was in Newport Beach less than a month when he invited me out. “I’d love to visit. Distance from Texas might do me good.”

“Wow, that’s the fastest response I’ve ever gotten from you. I’ll overnight a ticket before you can change your mind.”

“Not to worry.” I pulled luggage from my closet. “I’m packing as we speak.”

“Yea. I can’t wait to see you, my Cherie amour.”

Two days later I took off to be with the man I hoped would be the man to make me forget the man I truly loved. Surprisingly enough, I had a delightful long weekend with Aidan.

After my weekend in California, I avoided Gabriel, and weeks later when Aidan flew to Houston on business, he spent Saturday night with me. For twenty four hours, I became someone I almost didn’t recognize, playing mind games, behaving seductively wicked and praising this gorgeous man for all he was worth. I desperately tried to fall in love with Aidan, but it just didn’t take. Well, not on my end. Unfortunately my excessive fawning made Aidan think I had fallen head over heels for him. Before he left on Monday, he dropped to his knees, apologized for not having a ring in his pocket, and asked me to marry him. Little Miss Dysfunctional had
an amazing man proposing marriage. I wasn’t ready to jump into a relationship, much less marriage. Aidan interpreted my silence as a request for more time.

In between Aidan’s occasional visits, I stayed busy refinishing old furniture and reading McMurtry and Sandlin novels from Beau. I lived frugally, hoping to turn Beau’s idea of a small antique shop with daily tea into a reality. Nikki and I drove to Galveston one weekend to see
Greater Tuna
at the 1894 Opera House, and arrived so early we decided to kill an hour by walking the Strand. As we strolled past the little cafe where Beau and I shared our last lunch, a man was placing a “For sale” in the window. I jotted the number and dialed it. I was appalled by their asking price, but believed I was destined to own it. After all, Texans had recently voted the lottery into our Lone Star state.

Gabriel called on May ninth, but only to say Gloria was days from being released since doctors had managed to get her acute symptoms under control. Encouraging news although she would leave attached to monitors and taking vasodilators and other meds for chronic failure. I kept the call succinct, hung up, and then wrestled with the idea of visiting his mom in the hospital; not wanting to offend, but wanting to wish her good health. An hour later, I was in the Bronco heading downtown.

After thirty years of exponential growth, the Texas Medical Center seemed almost unrecognizable, and it took a while to get my bearings. I parked on North McGregor Street and began walking toward Memorial Hermann. Realizing how late it had become, I stopped and sat on the curb. Was visiting Gloria the right thing to do? Not because it was almost nine, but because I would never want to upset her. Wishing for Beau’s opinion, I sat outside, allowing the evening breeze to blow my hair as I took in a decent view of nearby Hermann Park.

“What the hell are you doing?” Gabriel asked, as he knelt beside me.

“Wondering if our meeting falls under the heading of kismet or terrible timing,” I accidently blurted personal thoughts. “Sorry. I’m just trying to decide if visiting your mother is the respectful thing to do.”

“You are some kind of crazy, Blondie.”

I wanted to chew through his moustache and suck the lips off his face. How’s that for crazy? “Yeah,” I answered. “I’d be wealthy if I could find a way to use my personality disorder to make a living. Instead of spending money on shrinks, I should’ve invested in stocks.”

“Did you say cocks?”

“No, I said you’re perverted.”

“Is that a fact and not a fiction?” He let go a little grin.

“That’s a fact, my friend.”

The damaging effects from years of smoking had caused few visible changes, but his coughs had become pulmonary bulldozers.

“Hey, Doc Holiday, you need to stop smoking. I’m not sure you’d look quite as appealing lying naked in an iron lung.”

“You think?”

“Smoking widens the ozone hole.” I made a moue.

“Well before you go runnin off to work for the EPA or Green Peace, I’ve quit smoking. It’s only been three weeks, but I’m sticking with it. Seeing Gloria stuck in that hospital bed is better than any stop smoking program. You know I can’t be confined.”

“No more tobacco? Congratulations!” I cheered. “Now, should I go visit or not?”

“She’s taken her pain med, and was dozing off when I left.” He tilted his head back. “Hey, look up.”