“‘There But for Fortune,’” Liam said.

“Right. And you were singing, and suddenly Mara started singing and playing the same song, in perfect harmony with you, and you two were looking at each other across the room, and it was like there was this invisible thread connecting you, and neither of you knew anyone else was there. And I was thinking, yes! I just knew once the two of you met it would be like that.”

Pursing his lips, Liam nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “it was a good call on your part. And you were playing a pan and a spoon, right?”

“No, I had the comb and the tissue paper,” she said. “Rusty had the pan and spoon. The instrument of least effort.”

“Rusty was a pill,” Liam said. “It’s good you ditched him.”

“He ditched me,” she said, “but never mind.”

They fell silent, and Joelle glanced at Mara. Her gaze was on Carlynn, and it surprised her that she was not looking at Liam, since he was well within her range. She wasn’t smiling, but her face looked relaxed, as though the massage was soothing her.

“I’ve got one,” Liam said. “Talking about Rusty reminded me of it.”

“Do we have to talk about Rusty?” she asked.

“Remember the time we all went to San Diego for a few days?”

She nodded. “Over Christmas.”

“Right, and I don’t know where we were, somewhere in San Diego County, I guess, or maybe not, but out in that place you had heard about that had pocket canyons and other strange rock formations and—”

“Oh, no,” she said, starting to laugh as she remembered the hour-long hike that had turned into four rather scary hours.

“You swore you knew where you were going, and we followed you like we trusted you,” Liam said.

“I had a map. It’s just that we got turned around some how.”

“There were those weird hills or dunes or whatever they were. And you kept saying, ‘Our car is parked right over that hill,’ and we’d climb over it, which would take a half hour, and then all we’d see in front of us was…”

“Another hill.” She laughed. “But see? We can laugh about it now.”

“I don’t remember laughing at the time,” Liam said. “I thought Rusty was going to divorce you the moment we actually did find the car.”

“And remember Mara had taken a whole roll of pictures of us goofing around in the pocket canyon and then realized she had no film in her camera?”

Liam laughed. “Oh, I felt so sorry for her.” He leaned over and squeezed Mara’s arm, giving Carlynn a look that said, “Try and stop me,” but Carlynn only smiled at him.

“Do you remember what happened on the beach?” Joelle said. “That same trip. In Coronado, I think. We were lying there and a gull flew over and—”

Liam interrupted her with a groan. “Not my favorite memory,” he said. “Mara wouldn’t kiss me for a week.”

“God, it was funny,” Joelle said.

“Do you remember that E.R. case, where we called Mara in to do a psych consult?” Liam asked.

“Which one?”

“The pregnant woman who was in a car accident and her arm was nearly—”

“Oh, yes!” Joelle started laughing. “Her arm was hanging by a thread, and all she kept saying was that she thought her pierced belly button was infected.”

“I can still hear Mara,” Liam said. “Remember? She went into the treatment room wearing that professional expression she was so good at, and said, ‘Your belly button is fine, but your arm is falling off.”’ He looked at Carlynn, who was not smiling. She appeared to be deeply focused on Mara’s face. Liam shrugged. “I guess you had to be there,” he said, and Joelle chuckled.

“I remember the time we called Mara in for that woman who was using her vagina as a bank,” she said, “and—”

“Don’t go there,” Liam interrupted her with a laugh. He looked at Mara. “Don’t worry, honey, we’re not going there.”

They were quiet for a minute, and Joelle felt gratitude toward him for playing this game. Liam closed his eyes.

After a moment she asked him, “What are you thinking about?”

He took in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “A memory,” he said, opening his eyes. “When you were over at our house, right after you and Rusty split up. And we made you dinner and were consoling you, and then I got that call that my father died.”

His father had been only fifty-nine years old, and he’d simply keeled over at work one day. She could still remember Liam’s shock and sorrow.

Joelle leaned forward and touched his hand, and to her surprise he turned his hand to hold on to hers. His eyes were on her, and he looked beaten down, tired of whatever game it was they were playing. It was time to free him from it.

“Carlynn?” she said. “Can Liam and I stop now?”

Carlynn nodded, stilling her own hands. “Mara?” she said softly, and Mara smiled at them as though she’d forgotten they were there. She lifted her right arm toward Liam. It was an unmistakable, meaningful gesture. That arm had always been usable, but until now Mara had not seemed to know what to do with it. Carlynn stood up, and Liam took her place on the bed.

“Would you like to visit Mara a while longer, Liam?” Carlynn asked. “Quinn and I can drop Joelle off on our way home.”

Liam looked at Joelle. “Do you mind?” he asked.

She shook her head, still moved by the way Mara had reached out to him.

“Next week, Liam, I would like you to bring your guitar, please,” Carlynn asked.

“I don’t play anymore,” Liam said without looking at her.

“Joelle told me that, but I think it’s important,” Carlynn said. “Music can touch so many parts of the mind and heart in a way that nothing else can. So bring it, please.”

In the corridor outside Mara’s room, Joelle said quietly. “I don’t know if he will.”

“I hope he does,” Carlynn said. “I think it can make a difference.”

They walked together down the hallway, and Joelle could still feel the grip of Liam’s fingers on her hand and recall the way he’d looked at her. The moment had been brief, a mere few seconds, but she hadn’t felt that close to him in months.







28






CARLYNN SAT ON THE VERY EDGE OF THE TERRACE FLOOR LOOKING out at the sea. She hadn’t sat this way, with her legs dangling over the terrace’s stone floor, in a very long time. Probably not since she was a child. She could feel the cold of the stone through the fabric of her slacks, and the sensation was not unpleasant. It let her know she was still alive.

“Carlynn?”

She glanced behind her to see Mary McGowan walking toward her from the house.

“Hello, Mary,” she said.

“It gave me a start to see you sitting out here like this,” Mary said as she neared her. “Are you all right? Can I get you something?”

“I’m fine,” Carlynn said. “And no, you can’t get me anything, thank you. But why don’t you sit down here with me for a bit?”

“On the cold ground like that?” Mary sounded a bit stunned at the suggestion.

“Yes. Come on.” Carlynn waved her hand through the air in invitation. “My sister and I used to sit like this all the time when we were children.”

“Not sure I can get down that low.” Mary laughed, but Carlynn knew she would be able to. She’d seen Mary scrub the kitchen floor on her hands and knees more than once.

“Come on,” Carlynn said again, reaching toward her. “I’ll give you a hand.”

Mary held on to Carlynn’s hand and gingerly lowered herself to the edge of the terrace, letting her own legs and her sensible shoes dangle over the side.

“How are we ever going to get up?” Mary chuckled.

“We’ll worry about that later,” Carlynn said. She’d given that some thought herself. She lived in a house of old people.

“Ah,” Mary said, looking out to sea. “This is beautiful. I feel closer to the water down here.”

“And the trees,” Carlynn said. She studied the milky horizon, where the overcast sky and frothy sea met in an indistinct line. “I was thinking before,” she said. “Thinking about the perennials.”

“The perennials?” Mary asked.

Carlynn nodded. “I realized this was probably the last year I’d ever see them.”

“Oh, Carlynn.” Mary gently touched her shoulder.

“Don’t feel bad,” Carlynn said. “I don’t. But it was just a shock to realize that. I wish I’d paid better attention to them over the summer.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment. “I know Alan’s worried about you,” Mary said finally. “He doesn’t think you should be going to that nursing home, seeing that brain-damaged girl.”

“Well, he’s wrong about that,” Carlynn said.

“How is she doing? The girl with the brain damage?”

Carlynn smiled to herself. “She’s at peace,” she said. “Smiles all the time. She’s not the one who needs healing.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s Joelle and Liam who need to be healed, though they don’t realize it yet.”

“Who’s Liam?” Mary asked.

Carlynn watched a pelican fly through her cypress-framed view of the ocean. “He’s a man whose forgotten how to make music in his life,” she said. “And he’s also the man Joelle is in love with.” She looked squarely at Mary. “And he’s the husband of Mara, the brain-damaged woman.”

“Oh,” Mary said with a knowing nod, and Carlynn heard the understanding in that simple word. Mary knew all about forbidden love, love that must remain hidden.

Just as she did.







29






San Francisco, 1962



CARLYNN STEPPED INTO THE HOSPITAL ROOM, WHERE THE LITTLE boy lay in the bed nearest the window. The room was dark, except for a low-wattage lamp on the boy’s night table, and his mother sat in a chair near his bed. Carlynn did not know this child or his mother, but she’d received a call early that morning from the doctor treating the seven-year-old boy, asking for a consult. Carlynn had a reputation as a gifted pediatrician. No one, save Alan, understood the depth of that gift, but she was called on regularly by her colleagues to see their patients who were difficult to diagnose and harder still to treat.