Rebecca’s Cove

Chapter 12

“Okay, Squirt!” BJ opened her arms and Arturo jumped into her grasp. “I feel like I’m acting out an episode of Mission: Impossible every time we do this.” She flipped the box closed on the greenhouse’s water system controls, then hopped to the door and escaped into the sunshine before the first drop of water fell.

“Are we gettin’ good at this, or what?” she asked her canine companion.

It had been two months since BJ arrived on Ana Lia. She still had a few things to learn about the island and its eccentric inhabitants, but every day, she became more comfortable. She ate most of her meals at Rebecca’s Cove, talking about everything from books to sports with the other patrons. The greenhouse, Arturo, and all the other chores around her grandmother’s home had become routine. She even managed to do some of her better writing while lounging with her laptop on the porch during the warm evenings.

A certain veterinarian took up a great deal of BJ’s free time. She enjoyed spending time with Hobie and Noah. The boy was quiet and shy, but he had an incredibly free and interesting way of looking at life. Nothing seemed to discourage him; he took everything in stride. The question mark still in BJ’s mind was Noah’s father. She supposed that she could have asked about him, but that might have been pushing it. She didn’t want Hobie to think she was interested in her.

BJ could see where Noah inherited his reserved nature. Hobie was as tender and gentle a person as she had ever met. Hobie had a sizzling temper when provoked, but for the most part, she was patient, even long suffering. That wasn’t to say that BJ and Hobie didn’t continue to have off days. Hobie wasn’t used to having anyone else to talk to or confide in besides Laura. It seemed as if Hobie went out of her way to keep hold of her spirited independence.

BJ was also new to the arena of friendship. So far, she had done little more than the occasional light flirtating with Hobie. She wasn’t sure why, but every time she thought about pursuing a more intimate relationship with her, she became sick to her stomach. Because having a friend was a rather new experience, she decided to leave well enough alone. Aside from Juliana, BJ had no other friends she could rely on or share confidences with. Hobie fit the bill on both counts.

BJ looked at her watch one more time. She had to write a few more paragraphs while the characters were still shouting in her head or she would lose the scene. She was due to meet Hobie, who was taking her to Doc Elston for the first time. She prayed that she might switch to a walking cast, which Hobie had explained was a possibility if the x-rays looked good. BJ began typing once more. She knew she would be late, but she had one rule when writing: never say no to your muse.

“I don’t understand why you can’t put on the new cast,” BJ said. She and Hobie were sitting in the Jaguar outside Dr. Elston’s office.

“First off, we don’t know for sure whether you’re far enough along in the healing process to allow a short cast, let alone a walking cast. That’s why you need the x-rays. Secondly, I’m not the town’s physician. I only saw you that day because Doc Elston was on vacation. It would be unethical of me to take one of his patients.”

“But what if I wanted you as a physician? It wouldn’t be stealing if I gave myself to you.” Both women paused for a moment after that comment. BJ nervously cleared her throat. “Um, you said you have a license.”

“Huh?” Hobie asked. Her mind appeared to still be on the visual image of BJ’s last thought. “Uh, yes, yes, I do, but I think you should give the doc a chance first. It’s what I would want if I were him.”

“Oh, okay. Geez, has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are?”

“That sounds a lot like the stubborn pot saying hello to the kettle.”

“Touché.”

“There is a little something I should warn you about regarding the doc.”

“Oh, no! What does he see or who doesn’t he think is dead?” “You’re just a laugh a minute. Are you thinking about taking

this act on the road?”

“Point taken, Mom. So what’s this guy’s hang-up?”

“I guess the easiest way to explain it is to say that he’s a bit forgetful. He’s not a stupid man. He’s a very good physician, but you may have to...keep him on track.”

“This is going to be fun, I can see it now.” BJ reached into the backseat for her crutches. “You coming in with me?”

“Sure, I’ve got some time to kill.”

“I’m going in to see a doctor who you admit is a few bricks short of a load. Do you think you could manage not to use the word ‘kill’?”

“Oh, come on,” Hobie said as she exited the automobile. “Don’t be such a scaredy-cat.”

“What a mature comment,” BJ said, sticking her tongue out at Hobie.

The doctor’s office was exactly as BJ pictured a small-town physician’s office. There were four examination rooms, but by the silence, she guessed that there were never more than two rooms filled with patients at the same time. Pale green and white ceramic tile decorated the walls. The heavy odor of antiseptic hung in the air, the distinctive smell that distinguished medical offices from other workplaces.

It didn’t take long before BJ had seated herself on an exam table in one of the backrooms. The doctor came in immediately.

“Good afternoon, Miss...um...” He referred to the chart in his hand. “Miss Warren-Baylor.” He smiled and BJ took a deep breath.

“Just Warren,” she clarified.

“Miss JustWarren?” The doctor stared at the papers in his hand in confusion, and BJ took another deep breath.

“My name is Baylor Joan Warren.”

“Ah. Technology, eh?” He indicated the computer printout. “It’s a wonderful thing.”

“What can we do for you today, Miss Warren?”

BJ looked the doctor in the eye, then glanced down at her right leg where a cast ran from toe to mid-thigh. She half expected the man to laugh at himself for missing such an obvious clue. When the silence grew uncomfortable, she spoke.

“I have a broken bone?” Her own disbelief caused the statement to come out more like a question.

“I see. Which one?”

BJ knew that getting out of this would require some desperate measures. “Excuse me, but can I confide in you, Doctor?”

“Why of course, Miss Warren.” He sat on a padded chrome stool and wheeled himself closer. He patted her hand and BJ knew this was what he was good at doing. He was a kindly soul who usually saw nothing more serious than colds, bumps, and bruises during his day. Because of this insight, she didn’t have the heart to lash out at him. She decided to play the Ana Lia game.

“Doctor, I wonder...you see, I’m rather used to female physicians where I come from. I know this is a huge imposition, but...would you be very offended if I asked for a female doctor? I’m sure I’ve just developed some sort of phobia or something, but I’m quite sensitive about it.”

The doctor smiled and patted BJ’s hand once more. “I completely understand, my dear. Now don’t you worry about this at all. It’s funny you should ask because there is a colleague of mine in the waiting room right now. Would you care to meet her? She’s a fine doctor.”

“Thank you, Doctor. That’s so understanding of you.” BJ put on her most endearing smile.

“Not at all. Why, you just wait here for one moment. All right?”

Not more than five minutes later, Hobie walked through the door of the examination room. She shook her head. “I don’t know what you said to the man. Frankly, I don’t think I want to know, but he happens to think you’re the sweetest, most genteel woman he’s ever met.”

“Naturally.” BJ smiled broadly.

“I didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth.” “Oh, that hurts.”

Hobie laughed and shook her head again as she put on a lab coat. She called out a few orders to the nurse and prepared to care for her new patient.

The next morning, Hobie sat in her favorite booth at the Cove. She looked at her watch as she sipped her second cup of coffee. She had already ordered her usual breakfast, knowing that BJ would be late. No matter how early BJ started out, she managed to be delayed. She always had one more sentence to type. She held her muse liable. She had explained to Hobie that her muse gave her the thoughts and the inspiration to write. In appreciation and gratitude, she never said no to her muse, alleging that was the reason she was such a prolific writer. While half of her peers suffered from one form or another of writer’s block, she turned out a new novel every year.

Hobie smiled to herself. She knew she’d gotten in deep with Baylor Warren when her perpetual tardiness had become endearing. Then there was the comment Evelyn had made that BJ had a thing for Hobie. Hobie dismissed it as an old woman’s fantasy, but it stayed in the back of her mind. Of course, there was Chicago, too.

Hobie debated with herself on a daily basis whether to confess to BJ about that night in the hotel. Every day that passed, however, made it that much harder to make a clean breast of things. After a few weeks had passed, Hobie gave up her deliberations, realizing that after this much time, BJ was likely to become angry over the buried truth.

Hobie had a smile on her face before BJ entered the restaurant looking like a million bucks. BJ’s broken ankle seemed to be healing just fine, and she was ecstatic with the freedom of the new walking cast. She was able to maneuver much easier using only a cane to walk.

“How do I look, JoJo?” BJ asked when she sat in the booth. She stuck her leg out for inspection.

“Like you’re ready for that Boston Marathon. You want your usual?”

“Thank you and yes, please.”

“Morning,” Hobie said with a cheerful smile. “Right back at ya.”

They talked as they ate, then continued their conversation over a few cups of coffee. Hobie had learned more about BJ’s private life, especially her childhood. BJ was surprisingly free with information from that area of her life. Telling Hobie about the Institute had cracked open a dam.

“Do you mind if I ask a personal question, Baylor?” “Depends.”

“Depends on what?” Hobie asked. “Wait. Let me guess. How personal the question is. Right?”

BJ leaned forward. “No. It depends on how nicely you ask.” She smiled haughtily.

“Okay.” Hobie offered a saccharine smile of her own. “Evelyn has always told me that you’re a successful author. You’ve even said you’re a writer, but...”

“But?” BJ repeated.

“I guess I’d like to know why I can’t seem to bring your name up anywhere. I’ve looked under every genre and every spelling of your name that I can think of, but nothing. The library doesn’t have one book or bit of info on you. Are you actually a writer, or is it all some kind of cover to hide the fact that you’re really a CIA operative?”

BJ laughed. “Hmm, CIA? I’ve never thought of that one.” “I’m trying to be serious.”

“So am I. Look, don’t fly off the handle.” BJ saw the beginnings of Hobie’s temper. “I’m not being flip. Well, maybe a little, but there are only about two people in the whole world who know what I’m about to tell you. I’m trusting you with my greatest secret, Hobie.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t. I mean, I’d hate to be the one that—”

“I’m not worried.” BJ graced her with an easy smile. “Hobie, the reason you can’t find any information about me is that I use a pen name. I am a successful and popular writer, but when I write, I don’t use Baylor Warren.”

“What name do you use?” “I’m Harriet Teasley.”

BJ watched Hobie’s reaction, waiting for that moment of pleasant surprise. It never came. In fact, Hobie’s face displayed little emotion at all. It took on a blank look. She just sat there and blinked her eyes a few times, her body frozen.

“Harriet Teasley, the romance queen?” Hobie asked. “The one and only.”

“Oh” was all Hobie said before clamping her mouth shut. Hobie’s lackluster response did indeed appear to affect BJ,

while Hobie looked as if she were in pain. “Are you all right?” BJ asked.

“Who, me? Sure, sure. I just…wait a minute! This isn’t a joke or anything, is it?”

“Nope. Harriet is my alter ego.”

“Wow,” Hobie said, but her words held no enthusiasm. “I had no idea. What—um, can I ask a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why straight romances? I mean, writing the love scenes must be hard.” Hobie knew the question was inane, but she was trying to get the concept clear in her mind. How could she possibly say what she really thought about Harriet Teasley’s novels?

“Trust me, I don’t work from memory.” BJ lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’ve never been able to do the guy thing. Not that I haven’t known gals who did,” she quickly added.

“But you’re gay. Why not lesbian romances?”

“When was the last time you saw lesbian fiction on the New York Times best-seller list? My last book, however, sat there for eighteen weeks.”

“I’m sorry to seem so dense, but I’ve never actually...well, I’ve never read any of them.”

“What? Oh, come on. Everyone in the world’s read at least one. There are twenty-two of them. I’ve been churning them out since I was twenty.”

“Well...” Hobie thought about keeping her mouth shut. The voice in her head was screaming for her to smile and nod politely. She couldn’t do it, though. She couldn’t lie to BJ, not again. She wondered if she could manage to be vague enough to appease her friend. “I did start one once.”

“You started one?” BJ asked. “What did you think of it?” “What?” Hobie felt herself being backed into a corner. “The book you started. What did you think of it?” “Well...”

“Did you like it?”

Hobie cringed. “You know, I may not be the best judge. Romance isn’t really my genre. Plus, I didn’t even finish it.”

“Surely, you have some opinion on what you did read. Did you like it?”

“Huh?” Hobie seemed to have lost the ability to articulate as she scrambled for a way out of BJ’s inquisition.

“Like it. Did you like it?”

“I really don’t think I’m qualified to—”

“You don’t have to be a goddamn critic for the Times to know if you liked it or not. Did you like it?” BJ’s fingers drummed along the edge of the table.

Hobie saw that BJ was beginning to lose her cool. “Okay, I don’t think I like where this is going. Somebody is liable to get their feelings hurt.”

“Look.” BJ paused and took a deep breath. She lowered her voice in what seemed to be an attempt at restraint. “You’re my friend. At least the closest thing to a friend I have on this island. I would expect nothing short of honesty from a friend.”

BJ paused, and Hobie thought that maybe she was serious. Perhaps writers were used to this sort of criticism of their work. Hobie was still uncertain, but BJ appeared earnest.

“You really want my honest opinion?” Hobie asked in a timid tone.

“No, I want you to lie to me. Yes! I want you to be honest... brutally honest. Now,” BJ leaned back in her seat, “you’ve read more than just a bit of one of my books, haven’t you?”

Hobie nodded hesitantly. “My mother has all your books. Sometimes I would grab one off the shelf...” Her words trailed off as her fingers pulled nervously at the napkin in her hand.

BJ gave what appeared to be a smug grin. “And?” “Honest, right?”

“Brutally honest.”

“If you really want to know, I don’t read the novels as a rule because I find the characters shallow and unbelievable. The plots are weak and predictable, and the whole book seems like a cheap sex manual thinly veiled as literature. Frankly, I’ve always wondered why people spent good money on them.”

Hobie looked up and met BJ’s gaze. Once she saw her face, Hobie realized that she had made a huge mistake. Scarcely before she had started speaking, the voice in her head reminded her that when BJ asked for an honest opinion, it probably meant she didn’t want to hear the truth. Again, Hobie should have listened to that voice.

“I can’t believe you just said that.” “But you—”

“Who do you think you are—a critic for the Times?” “But you said—”

“No, I see how it is now.”

Hobie had been frightened, then nervous. Now she was at the limit of her patience. “Look, you were the one who said you wanted brutal honesty! I can’t help it if you can’t take it.”

BJ leaned in closer. “I had no idea you didn’t know what you were talking about!” she snapped.

“All right, I’ve had it. This conversation is over. I do not intend to sit here and be treated like this!” Hobie reached for her wallet and threw a few bills on the table. She gathered her leather satchel and slid out of the booth.

“I cannot believe you have the nerve to act like the injured party here!”

Hobie rose and turned in exasperation. “You were the one who asked me to be honest. I tried to beg off, but no. You just had to have your way.”

The people seated around them had stopped their conversations and focused on them. Even the waitresses halted their work to listen.

“I had to have my way? Jesus Christ, you couldn’t wait to blast me, could you?”

“You were the one who said you wanted my goddamn opinion!” Hobie shouted. The words echoed off the now silent diner’s walls. It was at that moment that she realized that every person in the Cove was looking at her. She closed her eyes and willed her blood pressure not to blow the top of her head sky high.

“I’m waiting for an apology,” BJ said as she folded her arms across her chest.

“You’re wai—” Hobie clamped her mouth shout.

The entire restaurant appeared to hold their collective breaths, waiting for Hobie to explode.

“Here’s what you’ll get from me. I don’t want you to talk to me, Baylor Warren. I don’t want you to contact me in any way. If you see me coming down the street, I want you to cross to the other side! You are impossible! You were entirely self-serving and arrogant the first moment I met you, and if it’s possible, you are even more so now!” She headed for the double doors.

BJ appeared stunned, as if no one had ever talked to her that way, especially with nearly the whole town watching. She was so angry she couldn’t form a coherent thought. She turned red in the face and sputtered as she tried to come up with a response.

“Oh, yeah?” was the best that she could do.

Hobie stopped underneath the exit sign with her hand on the door. She spoke without thinking. When asked later, she admitted that she never thought about the consequences of her next words. “I would have expected something a little more articulate from the great Harriet Teasley!”

Hobie leveled her gaze on BJ. BJ’s gray eyes went round as saucers before narrowing to slits.

Hobie couldn’t believe that BJ had just been outed, but most of all, she couldn’t believe that she was the one who had announced it to the world. She had never feared for her life before, but for a brief moment, when BJ’s gaze bored into her own, Hobie felt that particular terror.

“Shit,” she muttered just before she pushed the door open and was gone.

BJ fell back into the booth, amazed at what had transpired. There was a miniscule part of her that knew she had brought the whole thing on herself, but being BJ, she was far from ready to admit to such a thing. She could hear the whispers around her. She hoped against hope that the patrons of Rebecca’s Cove hadn’t understood Hobie’s last comment. Her hope was short-lived, however, when she looked up and saw JoJo standing before her.

The proprietor of the Cove held a copy of BJ’s latest Harriet Teasley novel. “Is it true?” she asked, clutching the book to her chest.

BJ sighed. She wondered how long it would take before Oprah got wind of the news. She could have stalked out, left with some scathing words. Seeing JoJo holding the book as if it were her firstborn child, BJ didn’t have the heart. She later vaguely remembered thinking this wasn’t like her usual behavior.

“Yeah, it’s true.”

“Would you mind terribly, Ms. Warren?”

BJ sighed deeply once more. “Sure, fork it over.” She grinned at her own wit. “Get it? Fork? You know…a little restaurant-type humor.” She signed her name and muttered to herself. “Ha! I still got it. Don’t tell me I’m no writer.”

“Everyone, Tanti! I sat there and listened to her tell nearly everyone on the island that I was Harriet Teasley! Good God, what’s wrong with that woman? Is she brain-damaged or something? Everything in my life has gone to shit since the moment I met her.”

“All right, Baylor, enough,” Evelyn said forcefully. “Sit down, relax, and try to restrict your voice to a four on the Richter scale, especially if you’re going to use profanity.”

BJ slumped into the bedside chair and pulled at the top of her short dark hair, causing it to spike up at odd angles. “Sorry, Tanti. I didn’t mean to embarrass you with my behavior.”

“Baylor Joan, you could never embarrass me. I thought you would have realized that after all these years.”

BJ looked over with a weak smile. “Thanks. Why are you so easy on me?”

“I suppose because you’re so hard on yourself. You always have been, dear heart. Your father has been dead for over twenty years, yet you keep him alive.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, my dear, that my son’s abuse didn’t stop with his death. He continues to hurt you today.”

BJ knew her grandmother was right. As much as she would have liked to deny it, she couldn’t. Her father had been an arrogant, self-centered person. Until she had heard Hobie’s cutting remarks that morning, BJ never knew that her father had left her his greatest legacy. Jonathan Warren III had done in death what he had been unable to do in life: He had turned his daughter into a carbon copy of himself.

“That bastard made me just like him.” BJ covered her face with her hands. “I never had a clue. Did you know, Tanti? Did you see it?”

“I think anyone you let near you could see it. The problem is that you let so few people within the boundaries of your heart. You don’t let anyone get close to you.”

“I know. It keeps me safe. Keeps me from getting hurt.” “Keeping yourself safe isn’t the way life was meant to be

lived. It’s surviving, not living. You would get so much more satisfaction if you took an occasional chance. Give what you fear a chance, just once.”

“I didn’t want to be this way, you know. I never saw it happening.”

“It isn’t that uncommon to miss the forest for the trees. The real question is, what will you do about it now that you know?”

“Change,” BJ said quickly. “I’m not going to let that son of a bitch do this. I won’t let him beat me.”

“It won’t be easy, dear heart.”

“Hey, I’m an ex-smoker.” BJ wiped the tears from her eyes. “Don’t tell me about hard.” She took her grandmother’s hand. “This is me we’re talking about. I mean, will I be able to change?”

“You’re not going to become a saint overnight. In fact, some of your haughty behavior got you where you are today, so you shouldn’t be in such a hurry to let it go. Besides, my dear, I suspect that you’ve already begun to change more than you know.”

BJ thought about the times over the last few weeks that she’d questioned her own behavior. There were times when she wondered why she was doing something so out of character for her. Was that why? Had she already begun to change?

“Now that you have all this newfound enlightenment,” Evelyn gave BJ a teasing smile, “would you like to rethink your confrontation with Hobie yesterday? Was she really the ogre you painted her out to be? Perhaps both of you ought to take a little blame for the words you spoke in anger.”

BJ didn’t answer. As much as she wanted to deny any responsibility for her fight with Hobie, a voice in the back of her mind said that she might have had a share, albeit a very small one, in the quarrel.

“Why don’t you think about it? Go over things a few times in your head. You’d be surprised at the magic that can happen here on Ana Lia, dear heart. I’m sure that very soon, you and Hobie will have a chance to apologize without either one of you suffering too much embarrassment or humiliation.”

“How do you know?”

Evelyn smiled a Mona Lisa smile. “Because this is Ana Lia.”