The Swallow's Nest

“I can see why.”

“I was with two guys whose place in my life had quietly reconfigured. I was confused about my feelings, and thrilled when they agreed to turn around and start back. That’s when we saw a man stalking toward us. Of course it was Douglas. I hung back with Carrick, and Graham went ahead to meet his father.”

Regan lay down on her side and propped her head to look at Lilia. “I can imagine this.”

“Douglas has a way of diminishing anybody who disagrees with him, but you know that. Graham took the abuse, but when his father accused me of putting him up to this, Graham told him he was wrong. Douglas didn’t listen and called me a number of names I have managed to forget.”

“I’m sorry he put you through that.”

“When I arrived back at their house my mother was already there. Ellen was furious, most likely because Douglas was. She told Mama I would no longer be welcome, and my mother told her to find someone else to manage the estate. By then Graham had taken off in one of the family cars, and Carrick had gone along, probably to calm him down. Not only was I totally humiliated, I lost two friends I thought I would never see again.”

“They didn’t find a way to see you before they left?”

“No, that was the last time for years. They left the next day. Carrick emailed to say he was sorry things had gone the way they had. Graham never did, and he didn’t answer my email. But I wasn’t surprised. I knew that, of all of us, he was the most embarrassed by everything that had happened.”

“Did you and Carrick stay in touch?”

Lilia considered her answer. “I think Carrick knew that Graham had a thing for me, even then. His first loyalty was to him.”

“I don’t think that’s true anymore.”

Telling the story to Regan had taken some of the sting out of it. Still she didn’t want to talk about herself anymore. She turned on her side to view her friend. “Now it’s your turn.”

Regan bit her lip and didn’t speak for a moment. When she did her voice was low. “This is harder than I expected. Even after you just gave such a great lead-in about how painful it is to lose people you care about.”

“Are you about to lecture me?”

Regan waved her to silence. “Oh, please, not even vaguely. It’s just I’m something of an emotional coward.”

“You’re somebody who will fly all the way to Kauai during tax season just to support a friend.”

“I came for more than that.”

“Why don’t you tell me then?”

Instead Regan crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the sky. “I love my family, but we never really talk about feelings, so I never learned how. Actually we never talk about ourselves. It’s that Irish Catholic thing. Don’t get a swelled head. Put yourself down, so nobody else has to.”

Lilia knew Carrick better than she knew his sister. Regan had grown up on the East Coast and gone to college and graduate school there. They hadn’t become good friends until she had come West to take a position in a Silicon Valley accounting firm. Now she realized that Regan was right. Because whatever Carrick was feeling, he rarely shared it, and Regan was much the same.

“Are you saying you have something you want to say, and you don’t know how?” She paused but Regan didn’t answer. “Don’t tell me you were having an affair with Graham, too?”

Regan whacked her on the arm. “You’d better be kidding.”

The mood had changed, which is what Lilia had intended. “So spill.”

“I’ve never told you about Devin.”

Regan had discussed some of the men in her life, but only with humor. Lilia remembered that one blind date had suggested they should have sex immediately to see if they were compatible, and when Regan had wondered out loud if anybody in the restaurant would notice, he’d taken a good look around while he considered.

“I’ve always counted on you to remind me how little I enjoyed being single.” Lilia realized she might be in that category again and soon.

“Devin was different. I met him in my senior year of college. We both headed for the same graduate program, and after a year together, it was clear we were also headed for a life together. Things seemed perfect. You’re sure Carrick never told you this?”

“I have a bad feeling this is the kind of story Carrick wouldn’t share.”

“Because I’m not going to look good after I tell it?”

“No. Because it’s personal to you and not a happy ending. I’m right?”

Regan didn’t answer directly. “That Christmas he gave me a ring. A really beautiful diamond. We decided we’d be married the next summer, something small and informal so we could spend whatever money we had on a backpacking trip through Europe. I wanted to see family in Ireland. His roots were in France. It seemed perfect.

“He was a top student. Lightning quick. A creative thinker. But in January he started not showing up for classes. A professor sought me out and asked what was going on. I was living with a family as a part-time nanny, and Devin and I had decided I should stay there the rest of that year to save for our wedding. Anyway, we weren’t living together, so I didn’t know he had been missing classes or why. When I asked him, he told me he was fine. He was using that time to catch up on another class. He said it was temporary, and he was getting good notes from another student.”

Lilia knew even if that had been true, it would have been a problem. “Did he take too many hours?”

“He’d moved out of accounting into corporate finance. I figured the work might be a lot harder, but Devin knew what he was doing. He’d found a way to handle things.” Regan faced Lilia. “I should have pushed him instead of just choosing to believe him. You can start counting the ‘I should haves’ now. After Devin died I spent an entire year starting every sentence that way. I’m better now. I know his death wasn’t my fault. But still...”

Lilia tried to read Regan’s expression. “You left out a lot.”

“Drugs.”

“Oh...”

“He was pushing himself really hard, so he started with the easy stuff, to give himself a way to unwind. Pretty soon that didn’t work, and he moved on. Prescription drugs, then cocaine. He was smart. He was sure he could beat it. He was even sure he could beat heroin.”

Lilia had seen too much addiction among family members and college friends not to understand. “How did you find out?”

“I should have seen it sooner, but remember what I said about myself? When he didn’t tell me what was bothering him, that just seemed natural.”

“Because that’s how things were for you.”

Regan nodded. “Of course there were more signs, but I wrote off his lack of appetite, his restlessness and everything else as exhaustion and stress over the future. I told him we could postpone the wedding, but he said no. And here’s the zinger. He told me he wanted to take my ring back to the jeweler to have it cleaned and the prongs repointed. He said a friend had lost the diamond right out of one that was newer than mine. So I gave it to him, and for weeks I didn’t even worry when he didn’t return it. When I finally asked, he said the jeweler was busy. He’d had to send it away because there was a problem...”

“He sold it.”

“Oh yeah. But not for enough to feed his habit, because about a week later he was caught in his academic adviser’s apartment stuffing anything that glittered into a pillowcase. He’d been given the key so he could study there. By then Devin didn’t care about anything except where his next fix was coming from.”

“You must have been devastated.”

“I was furious! I can’t begin to express how angry I was, except that I don’t have to, because you know what that kind of betrayal feels like.”

The analogy made Lilia flinch. “What happened?”

“Since it was a first offense the judge gave him a choice between jail time and a drug treatment center. You can guess which he chose, and he was lucky. His parents mortgaged their house to give him that chance. They loved him enough.” Regan lifted her hand in emphasis. “Me? I didn’t.”

“He hurt you badly.”

“Another thing about the Irish? We hold grudges. Just look at our history. Anyway, I can’t blame this on ancestry. The day Devin left for the treatment center I told him we were through, that I didn’t want anything to do with him ever again. And I meant it.”

Lilia was pretty sure what was coming next. “Whatever you said didn’t kill him, Regan. Wasn’t Devin in charge of his own life?”

“The statistics were pretty clear—40 to 60 percent of addicts relapse. He had ruined everything, and that was that. I didn’t write him. I didn’t take phone calls from his family. I finished my course work and took the job in Mountain View to be near Carrick. I told myself I didn’t love Devin anymore. I dated jerks. I was pretty sure I deserved jerks, considering how stupid I’d been not to see what was happening.”

Jerks or guys like Lilia’s brother Jordan, with whom Regan had absolutely no possibility of a future. But Lilia knew that revelation was out of place and waited for her to go on.

Regan turned to her back again. “He found me and called one night after I’d been in California for a couple of months. He was back in school in a different state but doing well. He knew addiction would be a lifelong battle, but he had tools to fight it. He wanted my forgiveness. That’s all he was asking for. And I couldn’t give it to him. I kept thinking he’d chosen heroin over me, that he’d ruined both our lives. I told him I didn’t want to hear from him again.” Her voice was suddenly thick with tears. “And I never did.”

Lilia moved closer to put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Did he die of an overdose?”

“No. He decided to spend his spring break in Haiti with some other guys from his program. They were helping build a new wing on a treatment center there. His program is big on community service as a way to return self-confidence and give back to the world. His second night there one of the residents got high, found a knife, and when he went after another resident, Devin stepped between them.”

“I’m so sorry.”

They lay that way for a few minutes until Lilia finally moved away. She was sure of one thing. Regan hadn’t traveled this far just to acknowledge her own past. “You’re trying to tell me I should forgive Graham and go home. That people really can change.”

“I don’t have any idea if you should go back to Graham. I really don’t.” Regan wiped tears off her cheeks. “Only you can know that.”

“Then what?”

“We never know whether change will stick or what the future’s going to hold. And we’re never under an obligation to play somebody else’s games. But I’ll be haunted forever because I didn’t tell Devin I was glad he’d made progress and wished him well. Even if I’d opened the door for another chance at a life together, he probably still would have gone to Haiti and died trying to help other addicts. But if I had just said those words? Both of us would have had closure. And who knows? Maybe we would have had that second chance.”

“Don’t marriages have to be built on trust?”

“We like to say that, but isn’t marriage just a merger between two flawed, fragile human beings who make mistakes, sometimes really terrible mistakes, and somehow come through them together? Trust is a shaky foundation because it can be so easily destroyed. The question is whether a relationship is worth rebuilding. Maybe more than once.”

Lilia cleared her throat, which was suddenly clogged with tears. “You’re afraid Graham’s going to die, aren’t you? And you’re afraid I’ll have the same regrets you do.”

“All of us are going to die. But I wish I had asked myself what really mattered for whatever time I had left on this earth, or Devin did. And I guess that’s what I came to say. Maybe that’s what you need to be asking now. What do you have to say to Graham that you haven’t said? What, if anything, do you need to forgive? Because nobody knows the future. You can trust me on that.”

10

Marina hadn’t yet cooked for Blake, but on Friday night he had a cold and didn’t feel like going out. Even though her work week had seemed a hundred hours long, she had volunteered to feed him.

She wasn’t a gourmet. Her talents ran to macaroni and cheese, spaghetti, tuna fish sandwiches, anything her brothers would deign to eat when she had been in charge. She still specialized in food that arrived at her local Safeway in a box, jar or can. Tonight, for a change, she was going to prepare something more appealing. Even she could bake a potato and broil a steak, and these days salad came in a plastic bag with dressing. At the grocery store she added frozen garlic bread to her cart and half a gallon of Neapolitan ice cream. Blake’s fancy wine cooler was already well stocked.

As she unpacked and started dinner she took stock of the kitchen. The space was expansive, only separated from the living room by an island. Drawers were crowded with every possible utensil and gadget. Since Blake relied on pre-prepared meals from the supermarket freezer, she suspected his wife had been the one to revel in complex recipes. She also noted that the black granite countertops were spotless, which meant the kitchen probably hadn’t been used since his cleaning service had come on Monday. She wondered how much he missed being married.

She wondered if he wanted to be married again.

As the garlic bread warmed in the needlessly complicated oven, and the potatoes baked in a microwave with enough settings to fly a space shuttle, she poured orange juice and took it into the living room.

After work she had changed into her shortest micro-miniskirt without tights, even though she hadn’t enjoyed the modesty challenge as she slid in and out of her car. But when he’d opened the door to find her standing on the porch with groceries, Blake had enjoyed the sight of her bare legs enough for both of them.

He was enjoying them again, this time as she held out the glass. “Pretend it’s a screwdriver. You’re not taking care of yourself, are you?”

He took it and began to sip. “If you were living here, I bet you’d make sure I did.”

She smiled, although the thought of being in charge of somebody else sounded woefully familiar. “And if I was taking care of you, I would never make it to work, would I? You’re usually a pretty hands-on guy. You must be sick.”

Reluctantly he wrapped both hands around his glass. “Somebody ought to take care of you.”

“I’m a big girl.” She paused just long enough. “But I won’t be around much next week. Sales meetings, and in-service training in San Francisco. I’ll be driving back and forth since my company’s too cheap to spring for a hotel, so I’ll be getting back too late to see you.”

“You’ll be missed.”

“I’ll call and check on you. And you’ll go to the doctor if your cold gets worse, right?”

He sent her a warm smile, which must have taken some effort. “Do you like being back at work?”

Blake thought she’d been on leave to recover after minor surgery, so she couldn’t tell him the truth. No, she didn’t like being back. She didn’t like the way the other employees looked at her, the way they didn’t ask about her baby son because they knew he was no longer with her. None of her sales colleagues had been at Graham’s “celebration” party, but word traveled fast in the construction community. While she’d spawned a little sympathy as a pregnant woman alone in the world, now it had vanished. She’d had an affair with a man they had previously respected, and now she had given him their child to raise. Publicly, too. For a mother there was no greater crime.

And maybe they were right.

When she didn’t answer, he continued. “You shouldn’t have to work so hard. You need more fun.”

If that was true, clearly somebody had forgotten to tell Deedee, Graham and God. Her brief sojourn in Los Angeles had been as close to “fun” as Marina had ever experienced, too little and over too fast.

She lowered her lashes. “I imagine I’ll have fun at the sales meeting. They pull in executives from all over the world. I’ve met some great...” She paused, as if to reconsider word choice. “People. There’s always a little social time built in.”

He hadn’t missed the hesitation. “Do you work with many women?”

“Mostly men. I do try to keep work and play separate, though.”

“Do you go out of town a lot?”

“Depends on what’s in the pipeline. The job pays my bills. I can’t refuse.”

“I might be able to find you something closer to home.”

She pictured a deadly dull office job. Creating a marketing plan for the latest innovation in denture cream. Putting out a company newsletter with feel-good stories about the new water dispenser and the tenth anniversary of the underpaid cleaning service.

She chose her words carefully. “I like being out in the field. I was born to travel. I love seeing new things. So the job suits me well enough. We’ll find time to be together.”

“Have you traveled much? Real travel, I mean?”

“Not nearly enough.” In truth, not at all.

“My wife didn’t like it. I always wanted to go, and she always wanted to stay. Mostly we stayed.”

“You didn’t go anywhere?”

“Europe once. We came home two weeks early because she missed her garden and our dog. Somebody was supposed to come in, weed and water, but they didn’t do it the way she wanted, so she never went anywhere for more than a weekend again. And even then, we had to take Doolittle.”

“I guess each person is different. I haven’t been able to travel and always wanted to. She could and didn’t.” Her sigh was real. “And what about you? Now that you can, do you plan to?”

“It’s not the same without somebody you love.”

Marina thought traveling alone would be great. Nobody to answer to; nobody to take care of. Just her, doing whatever she wanted.

“Maybe we could travel together,” he said.

She squeezed his shoulder. “I would like that. So many places to see and all of them interesting. But I won’t have any time off, Blake. Not for most of the year. I had to use most of my personal days for the surgery.”

He sneezed and ended the conversation by blowing his nose.

She took that opportunity to head into the kitchen to broil the steaks and finish their dinner. When she took out the garlic bread to replace it with the steaks she saw she hadn’t, as hoped, mastered the complicated oven settings. The bread was charred. She wrapped it tight before she tossed it in the garbage, but the burned smell lingered. She was glad Blake had a cold.

When they finally sat down to eat he complimented her on the meal, but she could see he was only going through the motions. He wasn’t running a temperature—she had checked—but the first stages of a cold were often the worst. When he set down his fork, she did the same, even though she was only half finished.

“I think you need a shower and bed, my boy.” She got up and removed his plate. “I’ll tuck you in, but I think you’ve got a long night of sneezing and coughing ahead of you.”

He was as docile as a lamb, getting up as ordered to head into the master bedroom. In a few minutes she heard the shower running. As she cleaned the kitchen she ate the rest of her own dinner standing up. Then she tucked both plates and the serving dishes into the dishwasher and got it going, did one final swipe of the counters and prepared to leave.

As she gathered her purse and the jacket that dangled lower than the hemline of her skirt, the doorbell rang. The shower wasn’t running, but Blake was still in the bedroom. Shrugging, she set down her things and went to peer through the peephole. This was a gated community, and two men about her own age in jeans and sport shirts had made it through security and now stood on the porch. She opened the door a crack.

“Can I help you?”

The taller of the two, a man with perfectly normal features that were one size too large for his face, wrinkled his oversized nose. “Who are you?”

“Since I’m on this side of the door, I think I’m supposed to ask that question.”

He glared at her. “I’m Wayne Wendell, and my father lives here.”

She saw the resemblance now, although Blake, at his son’s age, would have been much better-looking.

She opened the door all the way and held out her hand. For the first time that day she was sorry she’d chosen her shortest skirt. “Marina Tate. I’m a friend of your father’s.”

Wayne hesitated a moment before he took her hand, then he inclined his head toward the man beside him. “My brother, Paul.”

Paul Wendell looked nothing like Blake. He was at least four inches shorter than Wayne, with a belly that hung over his belt and close-set eyes that were even closer now because he was scowling. Marina shook his hand, too, then gestured for both to come inside.

“Your dad’s not feeling well. I’m almost sure it’s just the start of a cold, but I came over to make him dinner. He’s on his way to bed now. He needs to sleep.”

“How well do you know my father?” Paul asked.

She pretended not to understand. “I’m sorry?”

“I said, how well do you know my father? I don’t think he’s mentioned you.”

“I’ve known him a while.”

“In what capacity?” Wayne’s eyes traveled down her legs.

For a moment she didn’t understand. When she did she stepped back and stared at him. “You think he pays me for something?”

He sniffed the air, where the smell of burned bread still lingered. “Not for your cooking.”

She could feel heat rising in her cheeks. Blake took that moment to come out of the bedroom wearing a robe and slippers. His hair was damp, and clearly he had been in the shower.

The moment he saw his sons, he frowned. “Is everything all right?”

“You said you weren’t feeling well. We were checking on you.” Wayne gestured to Marina. “And look who we found.”

Blake didn’t respond immediately. Instead he lifted one eyebrow before he went to Marina and put his arm around her. “Marina made me dinner. Not that I need to explain.”

“I think I’d better go.” Marina kissed Blake’s cheek, then pulled away. “You need your rest. I’ll call tomorrow from San Francisco if I get a break. But drink plenty of juice. I bought extra, and there are cold meds on the counter. Please, call the doctor if you start feeling worse.”

“We can take care of our father.” Paul stepped aside, leaving a clear path to the door.

“I’m so glad you can.” She smiled at him. Then, just because she could, she winked. “But not in all the ways that I can.”

Blake laughed.

If the gloves had still been on, now they were off. Wayne stepped forward. “Dad, what are you doing? This woman is probably younger than I am.”

“But with much better manners.” Marina cocked her head. “I, for instance, would never jump to conclusions.”

Wayne acted as if he hadn’t heard. “I would appreciate it if you would leave so we can talk to our father.”

“You’re the one who’s leaving,” Blake told him. “You and your brother. Right now. This is my house, and you’re not welcome if you can’t treat Marina with respect.”

Marina stepped between them and touched Blake’s cheek. “Look, you’re not feeling well, and you don’t need a fight. We’ll all part friends and leave you alone to recover. Okay?”

Paul’s voice rattled with anger. “We don’t need your help. And my father doesn’t need your attentions.”

“That’s it!” Blake walked to the door and held it open. “Out!”

The two younger men stalked to the open door. More words were exchanged, but Marina, too angry to trust herself, stayed out of the fight. When it was over, and the door had closed behind them, she shook her head.

“Just what you didn’t need, huh? I’m sorry, Blake. If being your friend upsets your family, maybe I ought to stay away.”

“It’s my own fault. I had to be away a lot when they were growing up, and they still resent me. I let them take over the business when their mother was sick and I needed to be with her. And after that I got tired of working so much and let them take over even more. Now they want to take over my life.”