Softly she shut the door to their bedroom and went back to the other hall. Next to her studio was another room, a spare bedroom, decorated with light colors and natural textures, for visiting friends and family. As she eased herself into the cool sheets and inhaled the fresh newness surrounding her, her thoughts traveled across the country to their cottage on the Cape. No matter how hard she worked to eliminate the scent of age, it lingered below the surface. It probably was a combination of sea, moisture, and mildew. The ingredients sounded foul, yet it wasn’t. Lying on the new bed, in the newly painted room, she longed for that fragrance. Allowing quiet tears to escape her eyes and moisten the soft pillow case, she drifted into a restless sleep.
Be who you are and say what you fee
because those who mind don't matter
and those who matter don't mind.
– Dr. Seuss
Chapter 21
When Claire looked into Harry’s tired, sad eyes, her anxiety melted into relief. She flung her arms flung around his neck and buried her face into his chest. She’d never expected to be so concerned, but she was. Her muffled words flowed without hesitation, “I just got your text. I was so worried. I was going to find you; to be sure you were okay.”
Slowly his arms encircled her frame and his chin settled upon her head. “I am.”
She led him into the apartment and offered him something to drink. He asked for water then changed his mind to wine. She attentively tended to his needs, as he explained what transpired.
“I would’ve been here sooner, but just as I was about to leave SiJo, we had multiple false alarms. I have no idea what was happening. We had sensors indicating people where there were no people. Sensors ignoring people where there were people.” He rolled his shoulders in an attempt to release his pent-up stress and continued, “I know it’s a computer glitch. I probably could’ve figured it out, but honestly, I wanted to get here. So, I left Jackson to deal with it and headed home.” He emptied his glass of wine. Claire refilled it and returned it to his hand. After a few sips he continued.
“You know, usually Palo Alto is quiet and calm.” Claire nodded. She didn’t have a clue how Palo Alto was usually, but in her short time it fit the description -- calm. He went on, “I was almost home, on Hamilton, when this car pulled out of a parking space. It was like some kind of movie, happening fast, yet in slow motion.” He finished the wine, placed the glass on the nearby table, and took Claire’s hands. “I don’t mean to sound vain, but if it wasn’t for my quick reactions, I think I would’ve been the one placed in that ambulance.” He squeezed Claire’s hands as she remained silent, “Honestly, I wasn’t paying attention. I was thinking about you and our talk. When everything happened, I just reacted.”
Claire wanted to know about that talk, but he needed to discuss the accident.
“Before I knew it, this car pulled out of a parking space, heading the other direction, and then this taxi came up on my right. There wasn’t really a lane. He must have been in a hurry.” Harry closed his eyes and watched his private recall. Finally he spoke, “The car in front of me swerved, I hit the brakes, and the taxi moved into my spot. Suddenly, the car from the parking spot went into the oncoming lane and collided head on with the taxi. The driver of the car from the parking space was a young girl, only sixteen. I don’t know if she hit the gas instead of the brake.” He shook his head solemnly, “We’ll never know.”
Claire took a drink of her wine, definitely not a sip. She thought about Harry’s words, if it wasn’t for my quick reaction.... She’d experienced too many questionable situations to believe in coincidence. Finally she asked, “How is the taxi driver?”
“Distraught and injured, but not life threatening. He was on his way to a fare; so he didn’t have a passenger.” Claire kissed Harry’s cheek and asked if he wanted more wine or if perhaps he was ready for some dinner. When he nodded, she led him by the hand into the kitchen.
He looked around at the set table and pans on the stove top. “I’m sorry, I messed up your dinner. It smells wonderful.”
She smiled a wary smile, “I don’t think my dinner’s as important as you. You’re okay, that’s what matters.” She squeezed his hand. “Why don’t you pour us some more wine and start your salad. I’ll warm up this food. It’ll be fine.”
He continued to talk about the accident as Claire warmed the fish in the microwave and heated the sauce on the stove. Next, she refilled the sauce pan for the asparagus. As the faucet gushed water she heard Harry’s voice, but her mind filled with other words -- Tony asking, “Who was the expected recipient of that dazzling smile?”
Tears came to her eyes as the realization struck. Her presence wasn’t making Amber and Harry’s life more exciting; she was putting them in danger.
The memories of her parents and Simon’s untimely deaths paralyzed her movements. Water overflowed the pan as she stood motionless staring at the tiled backsplash. It wasn’t the mosaic design holding her trance; it was her new thoughts about Amber. She’s flying home tomorrow from meetings in Houston. Simon died in a plane crash. Claire’s heart began to beat erratically.
Harry appeared behind her. So deep in her sudden rational or irrational terror, she didn’t hear him approach. She jumped as he grasped her shoulders. As if from a tunnel she heard his voice, echoing against the cavern walls, or maybe he was repeating himself, “Claire are you all right? Claire, Claire are you all right?”