I didn't press Karissa any more right then about her personal life, or ask any more about
her skirmishes with Brian and Adam. Instead we talked awhile longer about my mom, and I
asked some questions about my grandparents.
I'd seen one picture of them with my mom and dad on the front porch of our house. My grandmother
was holding Adam, who had been about six months old.
"Did they like my dad?" I asked her, wondering if my grandparents had similar feelings to
hers.
"They agreed with me that she was very young to consider marriage," Karissa said, and I
felt my heart sink. How awful for my mom to have no family support about getting married.
She had been young, and it must have been kind of scary to go against her entire family. I thought
again about that picture. They'd all looked happy in that picture, including my grandma and grandpa.
My mom had been laughing, and my dad had a big grin on his face. My grandfather had his arm
draped over my dad's shoulder. I thought if my grandparents had disliked my dad, and hadn't supported
my parents getting married, why would my grandfather have been so affectionate to him?
We finished our meal, and after Karissa had paid, we were walking out of the restaurant. I glanced up
at the big clock on the wall. It was 6:45. I was already forty-five minutes late for class! I would be an
hour and fifteen minutes late by the time we got back to Angels Camp.
"I'd like to take you shopping," Karissa told me, after we were in the car. "We could go to the
mall."
"You don't need to do that," I told her.
"I want to, Harlie. I can afford it. Please. Let me spoil you a little."
"That's so nice," I said. "But I really need to get back to my class."
"Alright," she said, sounding disappointed, and turning the ignition on to start the car.
"I do appreciate it, though," I told her, not wanting her to think that I was being ungrateful.
"It's alright. I understand. Maybe we can go shopping together soon, though?" she asked, sounding
hopeful.
I was thinking ahead. I knew I had to talk to Adam and Brian, and everybody else at home about
Karissa, and very soon, too. So I wasn't certain just when I would be able to go shopping with her. Though
I was sure after talking to them that everything would settle into place, and that they would be fine
with me having a relationship with Karissa. I mean, I wasn't a baby anymore. If they'd objected
to the way she wanted to deal with me in the past, that wouldn't be the case now.
Still, I was hesitant to commit to a definite date for a shopping trip.
So I said, casually, "That sounds like it would be fun."
Karissa chattered most of the trip back to Angels Camp, about my mom, a little bit, but also
about herself. And for some reason, her second husband figured heavily into her conversation.
It occurred to me that she was talking a little erratically. I began to feel a little nervous, and
watched her driving, wondering about those two glasses of wine that she'd had.
I didn't realize until we'd pulled back into the high school parking lot, and I got out, that I'd
been gripping the door handle on the drive back, taut with nerves.
Karissa got out, too, and watched as I went to my truck to gather up my textbook for class.
"Thanks for supper," I told her.
"I enjoyed it."
"I've been meaning to ask you, did you know that I was working at the Dari Kurl? Is that why you
came there to see me?" I asked her curiously.
"No, that was actually just a happy coincidence. I'd been over at Angels Camp, refreshing my
memory on where the high school was located. To be honest, I hadn't made up my mind entirely on how I was
going to approach you. I was thrilled to see you standing there, ready to take my order," she said, with a smile.
"And you knew for sure it was me? I look so much like my mom that you were certain?" I asked.
"I would have bet every cent that I have on you being Kate's daughter," she said, and I felt
a flash of joy.
She smiled at me, and it seemed to me that her eyes were a little unfocused, and I remembered
how her driving had concerned me. Maybe she'd had too much wine.
I gave her a closer look. "Are you okay to drive back to Modesto?" I asked her.
"Of course. I'm fine. Why?"
"I just wondered," I said, my voice trailing off.
"I'm just fine. Call me soon, alright?"
"Yes. I will."
We said goodbye, and as I turned to walk towards the school building, she said, "Enjoy your class."
I turned around, and waved at her.
7
Class was in full swing when I walked into the classroom. Cindy Noel, who teaches full-time at the college
and also teaches this night class, looked at me as I walked in, but only nodded to me, and kept talking
to the class.
I listened in the rest of the class, trying to absorb what I'd missed out on. During the last few
minutes of class, which is when questions can be asked about assignments, and people generally
visit with each other, Miss Noel made her way to my desk, where I was scribbling notes down, and
gathering up loose papers.
"Everything okay, Harlie?" she asked me.
I looked up into her face, seeing concern.
"Yeah. Everything's okay. Sorry about walking in late."
"It's no problem. I was just concerned. You're usually early to class, so I was beginning
to wonder about you."
"I got held up talking to someone," I said, in explanation.
"It happens," she said, with a nod of understanding.
"Did I miss a lot?" I asked her.
"I asked for the essays that I assigned last week. Did you finish yours?"
"Yeah," I said, searching thru my papers and then handing it to her.
"I had everybody take some notes on the book that we're going to be reading next. You might want to see if you can borrow from
somebody. Or I can show you the printout from the overhead if you want to see that."
I thought about that, judging how much time it would take me to copy notes. Maybe I didn't even
really need them.
"Are they real important?" I asked, and I swear that Miss Noel rolled her eyes.
"Yes, Harlie, they're important," she said. "It's some information that's going to be on the test
next week." I didn't miss the eye roll, but her tone wasn't condescending.
I looked around at the rapidly thinning group of students in the room.
"Could I borrow yours?" I asked. "I don't want to hold anybody up while I copy their
notes."
"Sure," she said, and went up to her desk, flipping on the overheard projector. I went
to work copying the notes from it.
By the time I'd finished we were alone in the room, and Miss Noel was sitting at her
desk, flipping thru a magazine. I'd always figured that even though she was really beautiful, she
was a brainiac. I mean, with her being a college teacher, and all. Therefore, I was a little
surprised to see she was reading a Cosmopolitan magazine.
"I'm done," I told her, and gathered up all my stuff.
"Okay," she said, and turned off the overhead, standing up to push in her chair, and slinging
her purse onto her shoulder.
We walked out together. The parking lot was sort of eerie, with her car and my truck the only
vehicles there.
"Have a good evening," she told me.
"You too."
I walked over to my truck, glad for the parking lot lights. I was beside the truck before
I even saw the car sitting at the end of the lot. I squinted at it, and then got into
the truck, starting it up, and pulling forward to shine the headlights onto the car.
I inched forward a little, to be closer. It was Karissa's car, I was nearly certain.
I was nearly scared out of my wits when her car door opened and Karissa stepped out.
I took a deep calming breath and got out.
"Hello, sweetheart," she said, as casually as if she hadn't just frightened me out of my skin.
"Hi," I said, just barely managing to keep from asking her what she was doing here.
"I forgot that I brought those scrapbooks and albums for you that I promised," she told me. "I knew you'd be anxious to have them, so
I decided to wait until you were finished."
"Oh." I was surprised that I'd forgotten about the albums. And I was glad she'd remembered.
I walked over to her car, leaving my truck running and the headlights shining.
Karissa reached into the back seat of her car, and pulled out what looked like five or six
albums.
"Wow," I said, hardly daring to believe my luck at such a bounty of photos, "are these all
of my mom?"
"Yes, along with some of your grandparents, as well."
She held them out to me, and I loaded them all in my arms.
"This is great, thank you," I said, and I meant it.
"There's one or two pictures that I want to show you," she said, and followed along behind me as I walked
back to my truck.
"Okay," I said, and laid them in my truck seat. I pulled my flashlight from under my seat, and
held it on the albums.
"Which one?" I asked her.
"Let's see," she said. "I think it's this one."
I picked up the album she was pointing to, and she opened it, flipping thru the pages.
"Kate was three years old here," she said, and I leaned forward to look at the picture, with the light of
the flashlight. It looked like my mom had been dressed up, in a frilly dress, and holding a basket full of
Easter eggs.
"I can't wait to look thru all of them," I told her.
"I want to show you another one," she said, and she kept flipping thru the album, but then
kept stopping to show me picture after picture.
Since I'd left the truck running, my radio was still on, and when I heard the time I
felt a burst of panic.
It was nearly ten! I should have been at home thirty minutes ago. They would be worried
by now. By the time I got home-it would be worse than worried.
"I need to go," I said, sort of abruptly.
"Oh, of course," she said.
"They'll be worried about me at home," I tried to explain.
"You're so grownup and responsible," she said. "Don't they trust you even if you're a few minutes
late?"
"It's not that they don't trust me," I said, as I pushed the albums over further in the seat so
there'd be room for me to get in. "They just worry. Especially if it's dark out."
"I see," Karissa said, but it was obvious that she didn't see. Not at all.
"They're protective," I said. "And they're pretty strict."
"Why do they feel the need to be so strict with you?" she asked.
"I don't know," I said, realizing that I hadn't really ever asked myself that question before.
There'd been times in my life that I'd wished they weren't so strict. But I'd never really questioned
exactly WHY they were. They just were. It was the way it was.
"They just are. They were that way with the boys, too," I tried to explain.
"But more so with you, I expect," Karissa said, "I imagine that they're probably stricter with you than they were with
the boys. Isn't that right?"
I hesitated, thinking about that for a moment. Since I didn't have an answer, I said,
"I really need to go."
"Alright, sweetheart. Will you call me? We have that shopping trip to do, remember?"
"Okay, I will," I said, and then added, "Thank you for staying around to give me the albums. You
didn't have to."
"I wanted to. Oh!" she said, "I just remembered! I have something else for you!" She hurried
back to her car. I followed her with my flashlight. Karissa opened the car door, and, guided by the dome
light, she reached into the back seat again and pulled out a wrapped rectangle box, with a bow on top.
"What is it?" I asked her, surprised.
"Just a little present," Karissa said. "I've had it for a few days now."
"You didn't have to buy me a present," I said, wondering why she had.
"I wanted to! Open it, I want to see if you like it."
She seemed so happy to be giving me a gift, and I've been taught to be polite when
accepting things from people. I felt a rising sense of panic about needing to start for home,
but I took time to unwrap the box. It was hard to see it very well in the light of the parking lot, and with
the flashlight that Karissa had taken from me to hold, but I could see well enough to tell
that it was a sweater. An incredibly soft sweater. I'd never felt anything like it before.
"It's hard to see the color, but it's a soft blue, a sky blue," she went on. "Do you like blue?"
"Yes, I do," I assured her. "It's really soft-"
"It's cashmere," she told me.
I had sure never had anything made of cashmere before, but I knew enough about it to know that
it was wildly expensive.
"Thank you," I said. "But you shouldn't have-I mean, it's not my birthday or anything."
"I saw it and I wanted to buy it for you. It just seemed perfect for you. I hope it fits. You'll let
me know, won't you?"
"Oh, yeah, sure. I definitely will," I promised.
"There's a wonderful store in San Francisco," Karissa went on. "I'd love to take you
there. It caters to your age group in fashions. I think you'd like it."
"It sounds fun," I said, trying to be polite. I absolutely had to get started for home.
"Well, thank you very much," I said. "I've got to get going though."
"Alright. Call me when you can." She sounded reluctant to see me go, and sort of sad. I felt sorry for
her.
"Okay." I told her goodbye, and started driving on the road out of town, and towards home. It had
been such an eventful evening, and Karissa had given me so much to think about. And now, I had
all those picture albums to look at! I was debating about where I should keep them at, where they
wouldn't be seen. I wanted to share them with Guthrie, of course, but tonight definitely wasn't the time
to tell the rest of the family about Karissa.
I tried to control the worry about what was going to be said to me when I got home. I was within five
miles from home when I met another truck coming towards me. As soon as I passed it, I thought it looked
like Evan's truck. He must have recognized me, too, because I heard him honk once, then twice. I pulled over
to the side of the road and stopped, waiting while he backed up until he was even with me, his window down.
I rolled my window down, too, and he turned a flashlight on my face.
"Where have you been?" he demanded. "You've got everybody all stirred up."
"I was taking some extra notes," I said, and I thought I heard him chuckle a little.
"Yeah, okay," he said, plainly not believing me.
"I was!"
"Okay. Keep stickin' to that story, but I don't think it's gonna fly with Adam."
"Are you the only one out looking for me?" I asked, subdued.
"Yeah, I offered to do it. They're all still in the barn. We lost a cow today."
"Oh, no," I said, feeling bad. "Which one?"
"Not one of your favorites. Besides, you ought to be glad I'm the one that came. I don't
think you would've wanted Adam or Brian to be the ones out huntin' you," Evan said,
and I heard the amusement in his voice.
"I'm just a little late," I began.
"An hour," Evan corrected.
"Okay. An hour, then. Even so. I'm late. It's not like I robbed a bank," I said, gearing up my defenses.
"I'm glad you're not a bank robber," Evan said, and this time I knew for sure I heard him
snicker. "But whatever, get headed on home. I'll follow you."
"Will you stick up for me?" I asked, starting to feel desparate.
"Not if you're goin' to tell me you were just takin' extra notes. Cause I don't buy it."
'If I tell you the truth, will you stand up for me then?" I appealed to him.
"Maybe. But we don't have the time to get into it now. We need to get you home. You know how worried they get about you when you're out drivin' at night."
"Night. Day. Driving. Walking. Eating. Not eating. When don't they worry about me?" I muttered.
"Word of advice. Lose the attitude before you get home. Adam's pretty mad," Evan said, and
my stomach knotted in nerves.
So I drove on, and Evan turned around somewhere down the road, and came up behind me, following
me.
In front of the house, I parked, and then put my jacket over the photo albums, and the
sweater, to hide them from anyone who might look into the truck cab. I gathered up
my backpack, with all my books and homework from school, which would, I thought glumly,
have to be done in the early morning. I got out, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, and waited while Evan pulled up and
parked, turning off his headlights.
The front porch light was on, and so was the barn light. I would have chosen the house. I'd
rather face Hannah, but before I could make that choice, I saw Adam step out of the barn, and
he yelled, "Harlie! Get over here!"
I winced a little.
Evan gave me a nudge. "Better not make him wait, shortcake."
"I'm going," I muttered, and walked towards the barn, until I was directly in front of where
Adam was standing, his hands on his hips.
"Where in hell have you been?" he demanded.
I decided, in that moment, to emulate Guthrie.
"I got held up at class. Sorry about being late," I said.
There, I thought. That was smooth. Respectful sounding, without giving away any details. Just like
Guthrie. That would satisfy Adam. Right? Wrong.
"Class is over at nine," Adam said. "That hasn't changed. Has it?" His tone of voice
said that he knew very well that the time hadn't changed.
"No."
"No, what?"
"No, the time hasn't changed," I said.
"So what was this particular 'holdup'?" he asked then.
"I was taking some notes," I said.
Adam didn't say anything then. He just stood there, looking at me. His expression didn't change.
"I didn't mean to worry you all," I said.
"If you didn't mean to worry us, then you would have been home on time," Adam said
tersely.
"Okay," I said, shortly.
"Okay? What does that mean?" Adam asked, sounding exasperated.
"It means okay. It won't happen again," I said.
"Yeah? I hope not. Because I think that you're forgetting that driving is a privilege. Not a right.
If you can't be home by when you're told to be, you don't need to be driving for awhile," Adam said,
using his really stern voice.
I bit at my bottom lip.
"I'm sorry," I said, again, kind of quietly. I hate it when Adam gets like this. And I didn't
want to get grounded from driving.
I was tired, and a little overwhelmed, with Karissa's sudden appearance
in my life, and everything else. And now Adam was mad. Sudden tears sprang to my eyes. I swiped at my cheek, and blinked
them away.
For the first time since I'd walked up to face him, Adam's face softened a little.
"Okay," he said, with a sigh. Then, in a gentler voice he asked, "Did you eat?"
I nodded, and he said, "Homework all done?"
I shook my head. "No," I said, feeling bone weary.
"Well, I guess you better get up a little earlier in the morning then," he said. "To get it done."
"Okay," I agreed, looking at him miserably.
Adam stepped closer to me, and put a hand on the back of my neck.
"Is this class too much for you?" he asked. His voice was kind now, and gentle, and
somehow that made it worse. I wiped at my wet eyes again.
"No."
"Are you sure? Because if it is, there's no shame in admitting to it," he told me.
"The class isn't that hard," I told him.
"But there's something on your mind. Isn't there?"
After all these years, I guessed I shouldn't be surprised that Adam was able to read me.
"Yeah," I admitted. "There's something."
Adam was quiet for a moment, looking intently into my face. I tried to meet his eyes, even
though it was difficult.
"Maybe we better talk about whatever it is, huh?" he said quietly.
I nodded. "Yeah."
"Tomorrow night alright to talk?" he asked me. "It's late, and I want you to get to bed, so you
can get up early to do that homework."
"Tomorrow night's alright," I said.
"Okay." Adam looked at me a moment longer, and then gave me a small smile.
"Better head on in, and get to bed," he said.
"Okay," I said, and turned to go towards the house, resettling my backpack on my shoulder.
Before I'd gone more than a few steps, I stopped, and turned back to him. He was still
standing in the same spot, watching me.
"I know you don't like to, but can we talk about mom sometime?" I asked him quietly.
In the barn's light, I could see his surprised expression.
"Yeah," he said. "We can do that."
7
