17
Winds gusted as Carolyn drove over Altamont Pass. Spotting the Speedway sign, she remembered how much Chel had wanted to go to the concert. They’d both been too stoned to make it. Just as well. They missed the Hells Angels, the brawls, the fights and chaos. A steady stream of commuters headed back the way she had come, going west to Hayward and Oakland, maybe even as far as San Francisco.
August heat made the inside of Charlie’s car feel soupy, even with the windows down. She turned south and kept on, pushing, wanting to speed, and then wondering why she was in such a hurry to get to a stranger’s house. Before long, the Tehachapi Mountains loomed ahead, the Grapevine winding upward like a gray snake half-hidden by the inversion layer of smog and haze.
By the time she reached the San Fernando Valley, five o’clock traffic clogged the gray macadam arteries. She’d driven in traffic before, but not like this-six lanes, bumper to bumper, cars weaving, nosing in, taillights flashing red, horns honking if you hesitated a few seconds before making your decision. Adrenaline rushed in her veins. She developed a splitting headache. Her fingers ached from clutching the steering wheel. But she made the right exit and got on the right freeway.
It took forty-five minutes to go eleven miles, but she found her way to Canoga Park. She pulled into a shopping mall and bought her first meal of the day, Kentucky Fried Chicken. She didn’t want to arrive on Jasia Boutacoff’s doorstep hungry and begging for food. She reread the directions while she ate, and she had them memorized before she got back in the car and headed for Topanga Canyon.
The tan, two-story house with a Spanish red-tile roof stood at the end of a cul-de-sac, desert mountains looming behind. Carolyn parked, opened the trunk, took out her duffel bag, and hefted it onto her shoulder. The landscaping looked professional, trimmed juniper trees between boulders with river-rock ground cover. Two large terra-cotta pots with topiary privets and two Talavera pottery frogs sat on either side of the large mission-style door.
Carolyn had barely rung the bell when the door opened. “Jasia Boutacoff?”
“Call me Boots, honey.” The tall, slender woman with gray-streaked black hair smiled warmly. She wore white slacks and a flowing purple tunic with a gold chain belt. “And you’re Carolyn.” She waved her in. “Come on in. It’s hotter than Hades out here.”
The air-conditioning hit Carolyn like a cold front, but she welcomed it after hours in hundred-degree heat. She smelled something wonderful cooking. The foyer had dark hardwood flooring, painted cabinets, Talavera sconces on the walls, and a large, frosted-glass Mexican star hanging from the ceiling. An archway opened into a dining room furnished with a painted country-style wood sunflower sideboard, a wrought-iron chandelier hanging over the painted table, and eight blue chairs.
“You must be exhausted after that long drive.” She took Carolyn’s bag. “I’ll show you the way to your room. You can freshen up a bit, if you like, and join me in the living room.” She led the way down a corridor without pausing for breath. “You were six months old the last time I saw you. Your dad was changing your diapers.” She laughed. “He gagged. Men are so helpless sometimes.”
Carolyn caught a glimpse of the huge Southwest-style living room with a curved white fireplace and sliding- glass doors to the backyard. Boots kept talking about Carolyn’s dad and mom as she walked down the hallway and opened a door into a large bedroom, crossing the plush, tan carpeted floor. She put Carolyn’s duffel bag on the end of a four-poster queen-size bed with a crazy quilt. Carolyn took in a Tuscan dresser on one side of the room, marble-topped side tables, a comfortable chair with a stool near the windows, a small table beside it with several books, one a Bible. A watercolor of a field of sunflowers hung on one wall, an Italian coastal town on the opposite.
Boots opened the big armoire. “You can put things in here, or use the closet.” She opened one of the sliding- mirror doors. A dozen white silk hangers hung on the rod. “You have a private bathroom.” Boots leaned in and flicked on a light, revealing a luxurious white marble bathroom with a big tub, separate shower, and cubby room for the toilet. A thick terry-cloth robe lay over the vanity chair. Mirrors lined the marble counter. Two sinks. Carolyn had never seen anything so gorgeous.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Carolyn. I’m looking forward to spending time with you. I want you to be comfortable. If you need anything, you tell me. I want you to feel at home.”
Overwhelmed, Carolyn burst into tears.
“Oh, sweetie.” Boots held her close and rubbed her back. “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine. Things have a way of working out the way God intends. I know this isn’t your home, but I’m going to do my best to make you feel as though it is. You’re not the first girl who’s faced having a baby. You’re not alone. Believe me.” She drew back and cupped Carolyn’s face, leaning down slightly to look into her eyes. “You’re the daughter of one of my oldest and dearest friends, and I promised Hildie I’d take good care of you. Now I’m promising you.”
She let go of Carolyn. “Why don’t you freshen up and unpack? Come on in the living room when you’re ready. We’ll have a few minutes to talk before dinner is ready.”
Carolyn expected to hide out until the baby was born, but Boots dispelled that notion over a gourmet breakfast the next morning. “I’ve invited some friends over this afternoon. They’ve been a great comfort to me through some rough times. Kept me accountable. You’re going to like them, and they’re going to love you.”
“I’ve never had many friends.”
“Hildie said you had one that meant a lot to you.” Boots looked at her.
What else had her mother told Boots?
“I can see what you’re thinking. Your mother called me because she didn’t want you among strangers. She knows my life hasn’t been pristine. I was a party girl when we knew one another. She always walked the straight and narrow, but I dated every new intern who came to the hospital. No one was ever good enough for me, or so I thought. It took me a long time to realize I loved myself more than I’d ever loved anyone. And along the way, I found plenty of opportunities-and excuses-for getting drunk.”
Boots lifted her glass of orange juice. “It never occurred to me I might become an alcoholic.” She set the glass on the table. “No one sets out to bring that kind of misery into their life, and it takes more than willpower to stop.” Completely relaxed, Boots smiled at Carolyn. “By the grace of God, someone dragged me to my first AA meeting. I heard about a higher power. I call Him Jesus. He’s become the love of my life. And I made friends. You’ll meet a few. I’ve been going to meetings ever since.”
“The ladies who are coming today?”
“Only one, but none would claim to be perfect.” She reached over and patted Carolyn’s hand. “The thing is, we all struggle, some harder than others. Some of us make trouble for ourselves.”
Carolyn hadn’t just brought trouble on herself; she’d carried it home to her parents. She wondered how she’d support herself and her baby. She hadn’t finished college, had no real job skills. Could she earn enough as a waitress or mall shopgirl to pay for a small apartment? What about doctor and hospital bills? If she kept her baby, she’d have to find work. She’d have to arrange day care. Would she end up raising her child in a ghetto neighborhood? There was always adoption, but Carolyn wanted to weep at the mere thought of handing her baby over to strangers, never to see her child again. Just thinking about all the decisions made her want to get drunk or high.
“I understand.”
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken the last aloud. Mortified, she closed her eyes.
“You don’t have to figure everything out today, honey.”
“I don’t know if I can figure anything out.”
“Take it one day at a time.”
Carolyn wasn’t used to trusting people, especially someone she’d known for so short a time, but she felt at ease with Boots. She felt safe. She’d been fighting temptation since she left the Clement Street house. If she’d had any money, she would’ve spent it on booze and drugs while living in the park. She had nothing then; she had nothing now, but the temptation hadn’t lessened. Only the baby kept her straight.
“Can I go to an AA meeting with you sometime?”
