Still. "I don't know when I'll be going back to work, Jules. I couldn't have you here alone while I'm out. They can be long days."
"Do you know when you'll be going back?"
"I see the doctor tomorrow afternoon. What were you planning on doing if I wasn't available?"
"Staying with Rosa, I guess."
"Or have Trini the airhead stay with you?"
"Not her. She's in trouble. She got caught shoplifting the day after Thanksgiving, and Mom won't have her in the house."
"Don't you have any family?" Kate hoped she hadn't sounded too plaintive, but Jules seemed not to have noticed.
"Mom has some relatives in Hong Kong, but nobody here. My father's dead," she said in a tight voice. "I don't know if there's anyone on his side, but Mom says they all hated her. Anyway, there's nobody to stay with."
"Have you met Al's kids? Not to stay with. I just wondered if you'd met them."
Jules relaxed suddenly and grinned. "You mean my sister- and brother-to-be? I met her - she's really cool. Him - Sean - I'll meet this weekend."
"They're coming up for the wedding?"
"Sure."
"I'm glad to hear it."
"It's important to Al, I know. Kate, do you think I should keep calling him Al if he's my mother's husband? I don't know if I could call him Daddy."
"Give it time," Kate suggested mildly. "Dad may feel comfortable after a while."
"I guess. Maybe he'd rather be just Al."
"I think, if you're asking me, that Al Hawkin would burst with pride if you took to calling him Dad, but I'm also sure he wouldn't want to push it. He loves you very much."
Jules became very interested in the trace of cider in the bottom of her glass. "He must be nuts," she muttered.
"Nuts because he loves you? Jules, you're one of the greatest people I've ever met."
"You don't know me," the girl said darkly.
"I know you better than you think I do." At this, Jules shot her a hard look composed of equal parts suspicion and apprehension, with a dash of hope thrown in. However, Kate had done about all she could just then. All the time she had sat talking, the ache in her head continued to build, until it could not be ignored. Hating the display of weakness, she went to the cupboard and took out the pill bottle, shook a tablet out onto her palm, and swallowed it with the last of the juice in her glass.
"You aren't okay," Jules said with concern.
"I have a perpetual headache. I'll live."
"I should go." Jules stood up.
"Not until Al comes back."
"I'm sorry, Kate, I shouldn't have bothered you with all this."
"I'm glad you came. Did I ever thank you for the flowers, by the way?"
"Yes. Twice."
"Good. Those tiny white ones - what are they called? Baby's breath, I think. They dry well - did you know that? I have a sprig of them upstairs." Jules began to look positively alarmed at this uncharacteristic show of sentimentality, and Kate, peering at her through the distance of the headache and the onset of the painkiller, would have laughed if she hadn't known how much it would hurt. "It's okay, Jules, I'll go to bed and sleep it off. It comes and goes. You stay here until Al comes. Promise?" And what was it Jules had come here for? Oh, yes. "And I'll talk to him tomorrow, when my head is straight, about having you here. Bye, girl. Take care."
She did not hear Hawkin come, but when she woke five hours later, refreshed and ready to start the next cycle, the house was empty. Whistling tunelessly, she went to put in another hour with the hoe before dark.
TEN
"So what do you think, Al?" Kate was on the phone to her partner, the following evening.
"You're on workman's comp now?"
"Sick leave is just as boring as suspension."
"Must've been a relief, though, to be cleared."
"God, yes."
"Pretty hairy?"
"Oh, not really. The worst part was anticipating it. Have you ever…?"
"No. I fired my gun once, though I didn't hit him, but that was in the old days, not even forms to fill out. But about Jules; you'll be out for another couple of weeks, you said?"
"At least that. The doctor wants to see me then, before he approves me for even light duty."
"You sure you want her? It's a long time, when you're not used to having a teenager around."
"Two weeks is nothing. We'll go sit on Santa's lap, have turkey with all the trimmings while you and Jani are so sunburned that you can't touch each other and have the squits from drinking ice in your margaritas."
"God, you're such a romantic."
"It's a talent. Jules and I will have a good time. If anything comes up, I'll call Rosa, have her come and pick Jules up."
"If you're not up to it, dump her. Promise? It's her own damn fault she's not going. The reason we chose this date in the first place was that she's off school for the holidays, and then she says she'd rather stay home."
"She wants to give you two some privacy, Al."
The phone was silent for a long time.
"Did she tell you that?" he said at last.
"More or less."
"God, I can be a damned fool sometimes. Why didn't I think of that, instead of assuming she was just being — What a sweetheart. She's nuts, of course. This is a vacation, not a honeymoon. I'll talk to her, see if I can get the other room back at the hotel."
"Al? Don't. Just leave it."
"But —"
"Jani might prefer it this way, and I know Jules will. Baja will be there next year. You two go away and relax; Jules and I will stay here and wrap presents."
"If you're sure."
"I'm sure, Al. So, how are the wedding preparations coming along?"
"Why didn't we elope to Vegas?" He groaned. She laughed.
"Let me know if I can do anything. Otherwise, I'll see you at the church on Sunday, and I'll bring Jules home with me then. I won't be on the bike," she reassured him.
"You're okay for driving?"
"No problem. There's no danger of blackouts or blurred vision, just these migraines; they don't know what's causing them or when they'll stop. But I will say, I'm getting a hell of a lot done on the house."
The next interruption caught her again working outside, two days after Jules's visit. She was in the bottom of the garden, a place nothing human had ventured into for at least two years, and she seriously thought of ignoring the doorbell. However, she was thirsty, and the compulsive rooting out of brambles would be waiting for her anytime. She dropped her tools on the patio, pulled her rubber boots off against the scraper, and went to answer the door.
This time, it was Rosa Hidalgo, looking cool and neat in linen pants and blouse, every hair in its place. She looked startled at the apparition in front of her, and Kate looked down at herself: tank top and running shorts dark with sweat, ingrained dirt to the wrists and in a line above where the rubber boots had covered her calves, and red welts, some of them dotted with dried blood, where first the roses and then the blackberries had had at her.
"I was gardening," she said in explanation.
"I see."
"Come in." She gestured down the hallway toward the living room and followed her guest through the house. "I don't know if you can call it gardening, really. "Gardening" always makes me think of Vita Sackville-West in her jodhpurs and floppy hat. What I was doing was committing assault on the weeds. What would you like to drink?"