Chapter 20
It became a standing thing. We’d meet in Lot H, Stick would be standing next to my car or sometimes sitting in it with the engine running if it was cold, I’d drive Yvette to Caroline’s house, where we’d spend a few hours, then we’d come back.
It moved from Tuesdays and Thursdays to almost every weekday. I started bringing my laptop and books and studying, either at the kitchen table with Caro nearby doing stuff on her laptop, or sometimes, if she was napping, I’d take my books to the garage and study while Stick worked on the cars.
Well, on those days, I mostly watched Stick as he moved with grace and skill around the fleet of vehicles. He was definitely in his element.
Some days, if he got particularly dirty, he’d go over to the guesthouse and shower before we left.
He kept a few changes of clothes in the detached guesthouse.
He said he’d even started spending a few nights a week there, just in case Caro needed him.
The plan was that he’d eventually move in if—when—the time came.
Dotty lived in, but Caro had gotten so weak that she now slept in a bedroom on the main floor. I’d asked her if it was time to call back Betsy and Joey yet, and she said no. I didn’t push it.
So, yeah, it was a nice little routine. Kind of my Tuesdays with Morrie, except it was nearly every day, and it encompassed not only Caro, but Dotty and Stick as well. Many days we’d just spend talking, careful to avoid tender subjects like my mother.
It seemed Caro was in the process of going through the kids’ photos, with the idea of putting them in albums, but that never seemed to happen. She and Dotty would start to reminisce about the day such-and-such had happened with each picture.
But that was probably more important than organizing the pictures—reliving the pictures.
Reliving her life.
It felt odd seeing the pictures. Seeing the life I almost lived. The life I never could. And yet I was fascinated by them, too.
Dotty was suspicious of me at first, but warmed up after a few visits. Most times, she’d take advantage of our visits to go grocery shopping or run errands or something, never wanting to leave Caro home alone.
And yes, I started calling her Caro, after she’d asked me to. It felt odd at first. I’d so often heard my mother say, “that fucking Caro” that I stumbled the first few times. And then, like the whole surreal situation, it started to feel natural.
I hadn’t told Lily or Syd about my sojourns to Chesney. They both worked during the late afternoons, so it wasn’t obvious to them that I wasn’t around.
I don’t know why I didn’t say something to them. Partly, I guessed, because I’d have to tell them about Caro’s health, and I wouldn’t do that. But I also sensed they’d read more into it than there was.
Or more than I wanted to admit there was.
Another part of the routine was the kissing. It was as if turning off Yvette’s ignition after we were parked in Lot H was some kind of starting gun going off, the way we’d be at each other the second it happened.
Sometimes I’d reach for him, sometimes he for me. Most times it was hard to tell who moved first. We’d kiss for half an hour, longer. It was always too long, and it was always not long enough.
Yvette, champion chaperone that she was, prevented things from going any further, though there was some furtive groping—on both our parts.
As sleek and cocoonlike as each side of the cockpit was, it was hell to try and make out in.
“Why did you choose a Corvette,” I’d moaned more than once into Stick’s mouth as he kissed me when I’d try to get closer to him, only to be thwarted by the console and stick shift.
“Right now, I have no fucking idea,” he’d say, and keep kissing me senseless.
When we were at Caro’s, or even on the drive to or from, we were our usual selves—trash talking and constantly bickering.
Except when I’d go to the garage while he was working. He’d be mellow there, humming while he worked, a quizzical look on his face as he studied a car. A smile spreading wide as he would solve whatever mystery that car held for him.
It was too pure for even me to want to muddy up with insults, and I’d leave him alone, content to watch him in a place he belonged.
It occurred to me more than once that I had no such place. Never had.
I think it was the pool for Lily. I’d seen her swimming, and just after she’d be done. It was the same look of…completeness that Stick had when he worked on cars. He even had it when he was helping Caro.
But the kissing…that was definitely the best part of our afternoon jaunts.
Eventually one of us would come to our senses and end it. And then a little trash talk would fly, usually followed by a curse or two (by both of us).
And always—always—when he would get out of the car, he’d lean back in, look at me and say, “Tomorrow?”
I would nod and he would leave. And I would walk to my dorm room swearing to myself that I wouldn’t let it happen again.
But it always did.
* * *
Spring came early to the area, and by the first week of March I was roaring Yvette up and down the backroads by Caro’s estate.
“Why’d you get me a stick, anyway? Why not just an automatic?”
“Because the manual transmission gives you torque.”
“Whatever that is.”
He sighed. “Yeah, just trust me. You want torque. Especially now that the snow is behind us.”
“Hopefully.”
“Yeah.”
But it had been a low snowfall winter for us, and it had never deterred me, though the first time I’d driven Yvette in the snow Stick had given me pointers about how to handle her.
Now I raced Yvette up and down the road a few times, reveling in the feel of her. How she knew me, and I knew her. It was like Stick had first said—I got so I knew what she needed.
And she needed to go fast.
“See? That’s torque,” he said as I peeled out of first and took the deserted road once more.
“I like torque,” I said. Stick laughed, and I couldn’t hide my smile. “Soon we’ll be able to put the top down.”
“That’ll give the students walking from Lot H quite a show,” he said.
I didn’t bother saying that wasn’t going to happen again—we’d both know I was lying.
When we pulled through the gates to Caro’s house, I immediately saw two vehicles parked in her circular drive.
“Oh, shit,” I said.
“Why? Whose cars are those?”
“Well, one looks just like the Caddy that Grayson Spaulding was driving when he picked up Lily at Christmas.”
“Oh.”
“And the other is definitely my father’s.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah. Should we just keep going? Not stop?”
“No. I don’t want them giving Caro a hard time about the campaign or anything.”
“Do you think that’s why they’re here?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know she shouldn’t be alone with them in her current state.”
He’d gotten very protective of Caro, and I had to admit I admired it in him. And, in a sick way, was kind of jealous of it. Pathetic to be jealous of a dying woman, I know.
I parked the car, and reluctantly followed Stick into the house. I could hear voices coming from the dining room, a room I’d never even been in.
When we entered, we saw it was indeed Grayson Spaulding and my father.
They were seated at the table with Caro, Grayson at the head.
Laptops were open in front of all three of them, mugs and empty plates were at each place and papers were strewn all over the massive table.
There was even a big whiteboard placed on a portable easel with a bunch of diagrams and a calendar on it.
“Ah, just the person we need,” Grayson said as we entered the room. I looked to Stick, who shrugged.
“Jane, it’s time to get you involved,” my father said, flashing me his best politician smile.
My hands began to tingle with dread as I stepped into the dining room and took my seat at the table.