Besides the obvious stuff. The stuff you could see and hear. Did I like him, and did it matter?
“It’s a secret,” whispered Nicole. “You can’t tell.”
Who did she worry I’d tell? Brad? Her mother’s ghost?
“I won’t tell.”
She put her thumb and pointer at the corner of my mouth and drew it across.
“Zip it, lock it, put it in your pocket,” she said, locking my mouth and putting the invisible information in an equally invisible breast pocket.
“Done,” I replied with a nod.
“I’m ready!” Nicole singsonged with her arms out. I helped her off the bowl.
We cleaned up, and I held her up so she could wash her hands. We’d need to get a stool for her bathroom. I usually came in after a consultant, or the parents had some experience with children. I’d never been in a house where so many of the little things had been missed.
“Where do our bones go when we die?” she asked, rolling the soap between her palms.
Perfectly normal question, but I had to tread lightly. She was asking about her mother.
“Back into the earth where they make flowers and fruit.”
“And what happens to our skin?” She put the soap down and rotated her hands under the running water.
“It goes back into the earth to make trees and grass.”
“Does it hurt?” She held her dripping hands out.
“No.” I snapped the pony towel off the rod.
Nicole rubbed her hands on the towel.
“Are we lonely in the ground?”
“We’re not inside our bodies anymore.”
This was going places I shouldn’t be taking her. Brad had been raised Southern Baptist, so though he and I hadn’t discussed it, that was the theology I was going to spoon-feed Nicole.
“Where do we go?” The expected question, delivered like a train into the station on time. I crouched to her. She was so beautiful and guileless. She didn’t understand her own pain, what had happened or why. And it wasn’t going to get any clearer when she got older. All she wanted was to know her mother was all right. To make sense of it.
“She’s in heaven playing with God.”
“Playing what?”
“I don’t know.” I smoothed her dress down. “What did she like to play with you?”
“Ponies. She made them talk.”
“Then I bet she’s playing that with God right now.”
It felt like a lie. I didn’t think Brenda Garcia was doing any one thing or another. I had no idea, but I couldn’t tell this little girl that. I cared about her more than I wanted to admit. She was thoughtful, graceful, kindhearted, and methodical in anything she touched. If I could have a little girl of my own, she’d be just like Nicole.
Stop. That’s enough.
“There are flowers outside,” Nicole said, rescuing me from my own thoughts.
“Yep. Want to go look at them?”
“Yes, please.”
CHAPTER 11
BRAD
“He can tell me what to do,” I said. “He can send me a thousand miles away. He can put as many pounds on my back. Take my land. Take my home. He can break my back . . . hell, he can break every bone in my body. But he can’t tell me where my heart lies, and my love, it lies deep inside you.”
Paula didn’t move a muscle, but the air played at her hair, teasing out a few strands and waving them. When we’d been in high school she kept it in a ponytail with wispy bangs. After we moved to LA she made it more like Redfield than before. The bangs got thicker and the rest of the hair stayed a noncommittal shoulder length as if her way of being hip was to be so unhip it was cool.
I tried to gently break up with her before I came to Los Angeles, but let’s just say it didn’t work out that way. She was a very persuasive woman. We came to LA together, but she knew it couldn’t last. Not when the business and all the women in it were ready for me. We broke up cleanly. She dated. I dated. She came back as a friend a year later, when my career became 50 percent acting and 50 percent shit-I-didn’t-want-to-deal-with—her accent and manner were too comforting to resist.
I needed a personal assistant. It was taking me too long to learn my lines, and she knew enough about me to give me the help I needed. I got the studio to pay her. My first taste of privilege. The rest wouldn’t fall into place for almost a year.
“Your line,” she said. “Inside you.”
“That makes no sense,” I objected.
“I’m sure their million-dollar script doctor would love to hear all your thoughts, honey. But then they’ll change it.”
“How can he be worried about his own heart if it’s somewhere else? If it’s with her, his life isn’t what he’s talking about.”
“My mommy is the yellow flowers!”
Nicole’s voice rose above the birds and breeze for the third time in as many minutes. She and the birds made fusion jazz in the garden. If it got humid enough, I could pretend I was in Arkansas for sweet minutes at a time.
“You do this every time.” Paula leaned over and put her hand over mine. “You’re so hard on yourself. Just get the lines.”
“I want a pink one!” Nicole’s voice again. “We can make it live in water for Daddy.”
Paula took her hand away and leaned back, making that smile that looked like sunshine and waterfalls but actually signified a deep annoyance. “How about we go inside? Maybe if it’s quiet you’ll be able to concentrate.”
“I don’t have ADD. Concentrating isn’t a problem.”
I wasn’t being obstructive. I really didn’t mind distractions.
Paula was usually cool and unflappable, exactly what I needed, but she was acting as though one kid caused world chaos. I’d been raised with kids everywhere, so I knew what chaos looked like and seen adults ignore it.
She leaned forward, ice blue eyes sharp with intent. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking about you. I worry. You know that.”
Nicole ran onto the patio with a bunch of flowers that looked like they came from the boxes on the edge of the fire pit. I never gave the flowers a thought. I had people who took care of that sort of thing. But when she came running to me with a fistful of yellow, I was glad I’d hired gardeners.
“Here!” she cried, pushing them into my chest. “These are Mommy!”
“You mean from Mommy?”
“No!” She screwed up her eyebrows and crossed her arms.
“Just go with it,” Cara said from behind the girl. “I’ll explain later.” With the sun behind her, she was just a silhouette softened with glare. She shifted until my eyes were in the shade and I could see her.
Paula was constantly between us with her big Arkansas smile and her way of taking care of everything. But even with Paula’s obstruction, I could feel Cara a room away. I’d been fantasizing about her since she leaned over the pool table to miss the four. My fantasies were frustratingly generic. I couldn’t hear her voice in my head because I didn’t talk to her enough to recreate it. I had no way of knowing what she’d say or do. Yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.