Rebecca’s Cove

Chapter 19

“So there I was on one ski and crossing the finish line. It was a miracle I didn’t break every bone in my body.” Hobie couldn’t believe she was telling the story, but Juliana had such an easy manner about her that the words just seemed to spill out. “I’ve been monopolizing the entire dinner conversation. I’m sorry. I can talk quite a bit, but it’s been a long time since anyone’s wanted to sit through these stories. Usually, I have to know someone for quite some time before they hear this stuff.”

“You’ve kept me on the edge of my seat.” Juliana smiled, knowing how it affected women. Perfect white teeth were framed by flawless pink lips. She’d endured five years of orthodontic servitude as a teenager to get that exceptional smile. Funny thing was, Hobie didn’t seem particularly affected by it. She smiled, laughed, talked, and generally enjoyed herself, but Juliana noticed there was no sexual tension between them. She felt that their big night out had all the atmosphere of a blind date with her sister. The good part was that Juliana liked her sister and they always had a great time when they went out. “I saw the picture on your mantel, the one of you holding that trophy. I wondered how a teenager who could barely hold up those water skis won first place.”

“Well, now you know it was twenty percent skill, thirty percent luck, and fifty percent sheer determination.” Hobie laughed.

“I’m betting that determination is something you’ve always had and that it serves you well.”

Hobie blushed and lowered her head. She hadn’t expected Juliana to be able to read her so well. “You’re a literary agent, right?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“I think you missed your calling as a therapist. I’m not usually one to chat about my past or myself much, yet you have me talking about things I haven’t told anyone about, ever.”

Juliana smiled an almost sly smile. “That’s why I’m an exceptional agent. It takes a certain kind of person to handle the massive ego of a writer or anyone who performs, for that matter. They put everything they have inside themselves out before the world. Most people have no idea that goes on. They think that Grisham and King don’t go through that anymore when they put out a new book. The truth is, they get attacks of paranoia and doubts about their talent, or their latest effort, even more so than a new novelist. ‘Is it as good as my last one? Will it make as much money? Will I still be on top?’The list of their fears goes on and on.”

Juliana paused to take a sip of wine. “Writers have to talk to someone about all of this, and not many people know what to say to talk them off the ledge. Family members try, but unless they’re writers, too, they can’t really empathize. Awriter can’t possibly go to friends or other authors, that would be like admitting weakness. So at three in the morning when the rest of the world is asleep, they call the one person who understands them. The one person who can stroke their ego, make them feel as though they can walk on water. They call their agent.”

Juliana poured them both another glass of ’95 Tullio Zamo Pinot Bianco. “So you see, in a way, I am a therapist. My authors tell me the things they can’t even tell their shrinks.”

“That’s absolutely amazing. I had no idea. Geez, you should write a book.”

Juliana opened her mouth for a snappy retort but saw Hobie’s teasing smile. “Very funny...write a book.”

“Thanks, I thought it was pretty good. At least now I know why I find myself spilling my guts to you.”

“It’s my curse, I guess. Besides, I know your type.” “My type? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that I understand a little bit about people and human nature. I know when someone’s not the type to open up of their own accord, so I use a few tricks and techniques to get them to start talking.”

“Oh, really? And just what tricks did you play on me?” “You’re not angry about that, are you?”

“I don’t know.” Hobie sat back in her chair. “Why don’t you tell me what you did first and I’ll let you know.”

“It’s no Jedi mind game or anything.” Juliana laughed. “You don’t like to give out personal information about yourself. You’re textbook, actually. I simply created the kind of environmentwhere you felt safe enough to talk. Nothing outlandish.”

“But how did you know?”

“Sometimes it’s just a feeling I get for people. I thought right off that you were someone who loves people. You’re caring and giving. Eight times out of ten that’s because it draws attention away from you. You like being middle management. You’d rather be a cog in the wheel than stand out. You never fill out questionnaires or answer those annoying e-mails where friends want to know all your favorite things, your likes and dislikes. You feel like you’ll give away your power if people know too much about you. Perhaps somewhere along the line, someone close to you might have hurt you because you opened up completely. You’re determined not to make the same mistake twice. And last but not least, your favorite books are George Orwell’s 1984, C.S. Lewis’ Space Trilogy, and Alcott’s Little Women.”

“You forgot To Kill a Mockingbird,” Hobie added. “Good Lord, I think you better give me your jacket.”

“Are you cold?” Juliana started to rise from her seat. “No, but I feel distinctly naked.”

Juliana sat back down. “Touché.”

“Who do you tell your secrets to? Who listens to the listener?”

“Hmm, good question. Baylor, I suppose. She’s the one who listens to all my insanity.”

Hobie saw the opportunity and carefully baited the hook. “Have you and Baylor known each for a very long time?”

“We met as kids.” Juliana’s voice seemed tight, which didn’t go unnoticed by Hobie.

“I’m sorry, do you feel uncomfortable talking about this?” Juliana smiled. “No apology necessary. I’m sorry if I seemed abrupt. I guess I feel a little strange talking about Baylor to you.” “Strange...to me?” Hobie stammered. Oh, God. What did Baylor tell her? Maybe she warned her about giving me personal info. What if Baylor put Jules up to asking me out just to get me out of her hair? Have I been a pest? Wait a minute, Hob. Baylor is the one who’s always nipping at your heels whenever you turn around.

It’s like she’s following you. Don’t get paranoid here. “Hello?” Juliana tried to make eye contact with Hobie. She didn’t want to admit that she was a little worried about her glazed-over expression.

“Geez, I’m sorry. I was in another ZIP code for a minute there.”

“More like another time zone.” Juliana laughed. “Sorry. Where were we?”

“I think you were going to tell me about your work.”

Hobie raised one eyebrow. Juliana felt her heart twitch slightly. It was an exact reproduction of Baylor’s trademark move, and when Baylor used it, it was never a good thing.

“No,” Hobie drawled slowly. “You were about to tell me why you feel uncomfortable telling me about Baylor.” She wasn’t certain what was going on, but it was apparent that she had done something to shake Juliana’s usually unflappable demeanor.

“I was?” Juliana struggled to remember how the conversation had suddenly gone so wrong. Only a moment ago, she’d been nicely in control, and now Hobie had taken charge. She’d not given Hobie enough credit. Evelyn had been explicit in her instructions, telling Juliana not to interfere directly when it came to Hobie and Baylor. Juliana remembered laughing when she had said that manipulation was okay, but actually talking about the relationship with either woman was a bad thing.

Juliana unfastened the top button of her blouse. It had suddenly grown warm inside the restaurant. “Well...”

Hobie decided to put an end to her own doubts. Whatever Baylor Warren felt for her, it was a sure bet that Juliana knew what it was. She reached across the table and covered Juliana’s hand with her own. “Jules, tell me something about Baylor. Something maybe she’s keeping hidden.”

“Um...she doesn’t like peas?”

Maybe it was the nervous tension or perhaps it was that Juliana could be as charming as Baylor ever was, but Hobie smiled. Then she laughed, and Juliana laughed with her.

“You are as bad as she is, you know that?” “Oh, now, there’s no need to insult me.” “Do you play golf?” Hobie asked suddenly.

“Golf? Yeah, I try to get in a few holes when I can. Why?” Hobie smiled at her suddenly suspicious expression. “Let’s go have some fun. You know, forget about Baylor and everyone who makes us crazy. What do you say?”

Juliana realized that Hobie was indeed like her sister, who could find a way to have fun in the middle of a snowstorm. Juliana showed off her perfect smile again. “I’m game if you are.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

“Wait a minute,” Juliana called out as she tossed some bills onto the table. “Where are we going?”

“A place I know where we can be kids again. Come on.” Hobie took Juliana’s hand and pulled her along.

“What do you say, Bubba? Ya got room for one more piece?” Baylor and Noah sat on the floor surrounded by empty soda bottles and a cardboard pizza carton.

“I’m gonna explode, I think.”

Baylor chuckled. “I’m with you. I can barely move.” “Hey, Baylor?”

“What’s up?”

“Do you like my mom?”

“Of course I like her. Did you think I didn’t?” Baylor stretched and lay on her stomach, cupping her chin in the palms of her hands.

Noah mimicked her posture. “I mean do you like her, like her? Like for a girlfriend.”

Geez, kids are way more advanced nowadays. The funny thing about Noah’s question was that Baylor felt none of the panic she had when standing before Hobie, faced with the same question. It was as if Noah was a pal, like Juliana. She didn’t feel that lying to the youngster was even an option. “Yeah,” Baylor said. “I do like her.” “Cool.”

“That doesn’t bother you or anything?”

Noah grinned, displaying his perfect baby teeth. “No way, man! You’re so cool, Baylor. I wish you lived here all the time. Anyway, I think Mom likes you, too.”

“Really?” As usual, Baylor’s ears were at attention with that statement. “Did she actually say that she liked me?” I am so pathetic. Milking a six-year-old for info about his mother.

“She didn’t really say so, but she acts like it. You can kinda tell when Mom doesn’t like ya. She goes around the house yellin’ your name.”

“Has she ever yelled my name?” “Nope. You should tell her.” “Yeah, well, about that...”

“You afraid?” “Yep.”

“I know how you feel.”

“Are you sure you’re only six years old?” Baylor asked with an amused grin.

“Uh-huh.”

“So what makes you so knowledgeable?” “Huh?”

“How do you know how I feel?” she translated.

“Madison Riley. She’s in Mrs. London’s class with me. She’s super pretty and she’s nice, too. She says hi to me every day at the monkey bars.”

“What do you want to do about Miss Riley?”

“I don’t know. Ask her if she’ll sit with me at lunch?” “That’s a good start, Bubba.” Baylor was relieved to know

that at six, that was all Noah knew how to do with a girl. She was constantly amazed to hear the language and sexual propositions from the mouths of ten-year-old boys when she walked down Chicago streets. She thought back to her own youth. Her sexual career had begun much too early by most accounts.

“Why don’t you just tell this girl? Go right up to her and ask her to eat lunch with you.” Baylor rolled over onto her back. She rested her hands on her stomach, and when she turned to look at Noah, she saw that he had again imitated her pose. Both of his eyebrows raised above his wire-rimmed glasses at Baylor’s question.

She laughed. “Point taken. Are you sure you’re only six?” “Yes,” Noah said before he burst into a fit of giggles.

“I guess it’s because you’re scared, huh?”

“Yep. What if she thinks I’m a goof? What if she laughs?” “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you think we…I mean, you should do?”

“Um...I could wait. Maybe if she likes me, she’ll say something first.”

“Nah.” Baylor shook her head dejectedly. “You can’t do that, Bubba. Trust me on this one. Your girl will end up going on a date with your best friend.”

“Huh?”

“I mean lunch. She’ll end up eating lunch with someone else.”

“Oh. What should I do?”

“You’re gonna have to tell her.” Baylor realized that she was talking to herself. “If you like this girl, I mean really like her, then you’ve got to speak up. You might be scared, it may even feel like you can’t breathe or you’re going to throw up, but you have to suck it up and tell her. See, the crazy thing is, she’s probably just as scared as you are. Yeah, I bet that’s it. Maybe she’s afraid that you don’t feel the same way she does. One of you has to say something, though. I guess it all comes down to how badly you want her.”

“I guess I can try. I sure hope I don’t throw up on her, though.”

“Yeah,” Baylor chuckled. “Take my word for it, they don’t like when you do that. Hey, Bubba, can I ask you a question?”

“Yep.”

“What else do you know about your dad?” “He’s 965-2338.”

“I know that you know his number, but what else can you tell me about him?”

“Nothing.” “Nothing at all?” “Well...”

“What is it? What do you know?”

“Follow me.” Noah jumped to his feet and ran off toward his mother’s bedroom.

Baylor hesitantly walked in as Noah was struggling to push a wooden chair up to the open closet. She felt as though she was violating Hobie’s privacy by being there. She looked around nervously. “What the devil are you up to over there?”

Noah put a large, thick book on the chair and began to scale his self-made mountain. Baylor rushed up behind him to hold him steady.

“Thanks,” Noah said. “Here it is!” He scrambled back down and laid a brown folder on his mother’s desk. He pulled out an envelope and removed its contents, then smoothed the paper as if it were a map to some long-buried treasure.

“Mom showed me it once and said this was my dad. She doesn’t know I figured out where she keeps it. You won’t tell, will ya?”

Baylor looked down at the paper and smiled. In fact, her smile couldn’t get much bigger or brighter or happier. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

They looked down at the faded page. In the center, someone had taped a white appointment reminder card. On the card, two dates had been handwritten under the headings “first insemination” and “second insemination.” Lastly, there was the number that Noah had so dutifully memorized: Sperm Donor #965-2338.

As they put away the document, Baylor began thinking about Noah and how this affected him. Did he understand that his mom didn’t know who his dad was?

“Hey, Bubba, you don’t mind, do you? I mean, not really having a dad around?”

“Nah. Mom told me when I was real little, like last year. She said I was more special ’cause she went out looking for me. She wanted me so bad, but she said some families have two moms or two dads instead of a mom and dad. Leroy is in my class at school and he only has a dad. His mom went away when he was a baby.”

Once more Baylor was amazed by the way Noah seemed to take everything in stride. She knew that was Hobie’s influence.

A knock on the door brought them both into the living room just as Theresa opened the front door.

“Goodness, Baylor. I’m sorry I’m late. Thanks so much for watching Noah until I could get back. Hobie doesn’t know how lucky she is to have you around.”

“Yeah, I think the same thing some days,” Baylor teased. “Hey, Bubba, you mind staying with your grandma for the rest of the night? I just thought of something really important I need to do. I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“’Kay, Baylor.” The youngster held out his arms and Baylor scooped him up. She gave him a big kiss on the cheek and tickled him until he squirmed and giggled, then deposited him on the couch.

“You know, Baylor,” Theresa Allen began as Baylor said goodbye, “it’s a shame Hobie can’t see what she has in you.” She smiled and Baylor responded in kind.

“I’m gonna try to do something about that, Mrs. Allen. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, Baylor,” Theresa shouted. “With Hobie Lynn, you’ll need it,” she whispered under her breath.