15. Feverish Discovery
Claire paced back and forth, debating on confronting Pat outright. Anger rose in her chest and she fought back against it. She needed to remain calm and clear-headed. Maybe she’ll wait until tomorrow.
That evaporated when a knock on her door startled her.
She took a deep breath and went to the doorway. Outside, Pat smiled, and she refused to follow suit.
“Yes?” She could even sense the frost in her question.
His brows knit together. “I saw your light on. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to work on the acknowledgments for the book this evening or wait until tomorrow.”
“The sooner the better. Since I’m leaving in a few days, it would be best to get it done.”
He reached out his hand but dropped it when Claire backed away from him.
“Claire, has something happened? What’s the matter?”
She wanted to pound her fists against his chest, but she had to remain in control. Instead, she wrapped her arms against her body. “Nothing is the matter. I’m tired and ready to be done with this work. I…well, to be honest, I’ve been offered a job.”
“A job?” He rubbed his hand on his broken arm.
Danny Kaye’s performance in a Christmas show sprang to mind. He had better not be thinking he could pull something like that on her. She had—did---feel guilty about the accident. But she couldn’t be held to it forever. She pulled herself to her full height. “Yes. It’s a position at a small college close to where I live. It’s perfect for me. I wondered what I’d do now after retirement and this came at just the right time.”
“Did it?” He murmured.
“What did you say?”
He pursed his lips before speaking. “I thought, well, you said—”
“What?” Claire dared him to say anything.
He stepped back from her and Claire noticed his tight grip on a bag he held. “You’re right. One last review. If you want to do it tonight, fine. Or we can do it tomorrow.”
“Let’s do it tonight. I’ll need some time to pack. Anything else?” She replied.
He glanced at the bag he held. “No, nothing else. Give me some time to get settled and we can meet around seven thirty if that works.”
“Fine.” Claire made to close the door.
He turned back. “Um, I haven’t had dinner, if you—”
“I’ve already eaten.” She hadn’t, but she knew she couldn’t spend even more time with him right now.
“Oh, okay. Well, see you in a while.”
She nodded and shut the door behind her. She paced the room again, but the anxious energy she felt wouldn’t leave her. Finally, she pulled out her mat and did some stretches. She decided she needed to walk off some of the tension. She added a sweater and socks before sliding her feet into some flats. Pulling her purse off the hook, she made her way out of the gate.
The air had grown cold, and she was glad for her choice of clothing. She made her way toward the town’s center. People were out and about, some heading to dinner, others taking a walk along the Malecon. She walked along the shore, finally stopping at a bench. She sat and gazed at the lake, its vast presence stilling her breathing. As the cold crept into her body, she shivered. But she remained unmoving. Her thoughts were jumbled with no answers.
Why?
That was the question that kept coming to her. Why had he kept the secret from her? Why did she feel so conflicted and angry toward him? And while the job was a great opportunity, shouldn’t she be more enthusiastic about it? Instead, she didn’t know what she felt about it. On the one hand, she felt appreciated, seen as experienced, and still vital. She’d heard far too many horror stories of older women overlooked for any advancement or even finding work after layoffs or other life changes. Even her new book club friend, Shirley, had alluded to the difficulty finding work.
Claire had always hated confrontation, but she wanted to clear the air with Pat. She needed to tell him how she felt. But first, they needed to finish the book.
They were close and tonight would be just some more editing. Then it would be done. She rubbed at her neck as a knot formed in her chest. She’d come here to have her teeth fixed. What she’d discovered had gone beyond that. Sure, she’d lived in Denver for years and it had become familiar and comfortable.
But here she felt as if she belonged. She’d made friends, discovered new joys, and appreciated how the days moved slower yet were fuller. Then there was Pat, who had opened her heart in a way she thought had been closed forever. Well, as they say, it was good while it lasted.
Had she decided to take the job?
Her phone beeped with a text notification.
Claire pulled it from her purse. It was from Angela. Of all people, it was surprising to see anything from her. Even though Angela had started the book club and brought the women together, she rarely made it to any in-person events. Yet, she stayed involved on the periphery as the women grew in their friendship.
The text read: Sorry I missed the last chat. Heard you’re enjoying Mexico. Betsy also told me she’d given you a new statement of enjoying a plot twist.
Claire stared at Angela’s text. She thought about what to write in response.
Finally, she typed, Enjoying my time here. Great opportunity for me back in Denver at a small college.
The phone pinged, but instead of congratulations, Claire read, ‘You know that you can’t get to the twist if you don’t keep reading the story.’
What in the world did she mean by that?
Claire responded with a question mark before removing it. She typed, ‘Thanks. Looks like a great opportunity for me back home.’
Angela responded, ‘Home is belonging.’
Claire jolted at Angela’s words. She spoke aloud, “Is she reading my mind?” Before she could text a reply, another message appeared. ‘Must fly.’
‘Hope to see you when I get back to Denver,’ Claire replied.
‘We’ll see.’
Claire stared at the phone before placing it back into her purse. She sighed as she stood from the bench. She had to confront Pat and let him know how she felt about his deception. But she’d wait until after the book was complete.
Claire made her way up to the Mirador. Pat sat on the sofa, gazing out over the lake as darkness settled. The computer had already been set up for her on the table.
He stood as she reached the top step. “Do you want to go over the notes or just get to work?”
“Let’s work first. We can add or edit as we go.”
“Okay.”
Claire sat at the computer and brought it out of sleep. Together, they worked through the changes and went over the edits from earlier. When he asked if she wanted to take a break, she shook her head. “No. I’d rather keep working so we can get this finished.”
Hours passed.
Finally, Claire saved the document. It was complete. Now it would head off to a professional editor, but she had kept her word. She’d helped him finish the book.
She raised her arms over her head, stretching. Turning in her seat, she watched Pat remove a bottle from an ice chest.
“I figured we should celebrate.” He held a bottle of Dom Perignon. “If you could help me with this.”
Claire rose and went over to remove the protective coverings. Holding the bottle top away from them, she pushed at it until the satisfying pop.
“Why do I feel you’re not as happy as I expected? You helped me finish this book. I couldn’t have done it without you, Claire.”
“Sure you could have.” She poured some champagne into the two goblets.
He frowned. “What do you mean? My arm would have prevented me from typing.”
“I’m sure you could have gotten someone, anyone, to do what I did.”
He reached for her hand, but she moved aside, sitting in the chair. She set the bottle on the table.
He sat near her on the sofa. “Claire, darling—”
“Don’t call me that!”
“What’s going on with you? If I’ve done something, let me know.”
She took a swig of the champagne before replying. “if you’ve done something—wow, just wow. Maybe you should be asking what you haven’t done.”
“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why don’t you just say what’s on your mind? This is getting out of hand.” He sat the drink down on the table.
Claire rose from her seat, heading over to the Mirador’s wall. She stared out over the landscape before turning back. Pat said nothing but waited for her to speak.
“Before I begin, should I use the name Pat or Rick?”
He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. He looked up at her. “That’s what this is about?”
“You make it sound like it’s nothing. You lied to me!”
He rose and came close to her. She could feel the heat radiating from him. “I never lied to you, Claire.”
“You kept it from me. That’s as bad as lying. Worse even. You made me into a, well, a fool.”
He shook his head. “I’d never do that. Plus, I meant to tell you about it tonight.”
“Sure, you did.”
He made a face, anger passing across it as he spoke, his voice rough. “I did. Why can’t you trust me?”
“That’s it. Trust. How can I trust anything you have to say? This entire time, you led me to believe that I was helping you to write this book. Like you even needed my help. You’re a best-selling author. You don’t need any input from me. Was it all a big joke to you? Well, you played it well. Ha Ha.”
He reached for her and though she wanted to pull away, she also wanted him to hold her, to say he was sorry. She wanted them to go back to the way they were before.
“Claire.” He lifted her chin, so they were locked in each other’s gazes. “You know how I feel about you. I love you. I would never do anything like that to you or allow it.”
“Then why?” Her voice caught with a whine.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her to the sofa. They sat on the edge, their hands clasped together.
“Claire, let me ask you a question.”
She nodded, too afraid to speak.
“If you had known that I was that author, would you have offered your help?”
“I would—”
He cocked his eyebrow.
Words stuck in her throat. The truth was revealed. She never would have offered him help. “Fine. Maybe not. But you never gave me that chance. You could have told me. Said something.”
“I planned to. I’d planned it all along. As soon as we finished the book. I wanted to surprise you. But to be honest, I don’t care about any of that right now. What I care about is your wanting to leave. I thought you felt the same way I do.”
He pulled her hands into his, their warmth radiating up her arms. Their strength a comfort.
“I, well, I do. But this isn’t my home. I have a job opportunity. It’s too good to pass up. I can come back and visit.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want you to visit. I want you to stay here.”
Chills went through Claire. But they weren’t from Pat’s words. Sweat broke out on her forehead. “I don’t feel so good.”
“I didn’t expect hearing that wanting you to stay makes you sick.” He chuckled.
“No. I’m serious. I’ve been feeling chills since Janie and I got back from the thermal waters. She’s not well either.”
“Did you eat something that didn’t agree with you?”
Claire shook her head. “No, actually, I haven’t had much of an appetite. It’s my chest. For the last few days, my muscles have been tight, even after stretching. Maybe it was the hot and cold together.”
“You should have said something. We could have worked downstairs. Come on, let’s get you out of this night air.”
She nodded. Together, they moved down the stairs until they were in Pat’s house. “Can I use your bathroom?”
“Certainly. Mine’s a mess. Use the one from my study. Would you like some hot tea?”
She nodded. “That sounds good. Maybe I overdid it today.”
“You know there’s a nasty bug going around.”
“Yes. The first person I encountered with it was Alice.”
“I heard Alice has pneumonia.”
“Oh, that’s terrible. I know she’d been ill and hadn’t been at the library. Plus, Bob and Janie have both had the sniffles. I don’t have time to be sick. I’m leaving soon.”
“Don’t worry about that right now. Let me make you some tea. Maybe tomorrow it wouldn’t hurt to go in for a check-up just to be safe.”
She nodded. “Probably wouldn’t hurt.” She left Pat running water into the teapot. Making her way toward the bathroom, she ran cold water and used a cloth to wipe her face. Before, she’d felt chilly and now she felt warm. She hated that her last few days here would be spent in bed, but all her energy seemed to elude her. After steadying herself, she made her way back toward the kitchen, passing through the study.
Pat’s study was a combination of bookshelves and opposite his desk, the wall held many pictures. She walked over and perused the pictures. Some were of Pat with various people when he was younger. A photo of him holding his first book, along with a group of people sitting around a dinner table. Some photos of his accomplishments in selling books.
She moved down the wall, glancing at the various pictures. A rush of heat caused her to check her forehead. Definitely fever. She needed to skip the tea and head down to the casita and bed. She moved along to another row of pictures.
Pat, as a young man, standing with a group of men, all dressed alike in army fatigues. Claire’s breath caught. The room spun. She grabbed for the doorjamb as darkness swept over her.
Two words flooded her mind.
Plot twist.