you.”
She bristled. “Charlie only met her once.”
“Yeah, and it was that one meeting that made him worry. Apparently, she came into his bedroom in the middle of the night.”
She blushed. “I know. She told me after the fact.”
“He beat himself up over what happened. He said she was totally screwed up, and he took advantage.”
Carolyn gave a soft laugh. “I think it was the other way around, Mitch.”
“Whatever the case, Charlie liked her. A lot. He said there was something about her…”
“Chel sang a siren song.” Like Janis Joplin, her idol, who died of a drug overdose less than a year after she did.
“They exchanged letters. He planned to look her up when he came home.”
“Did he?” And now both of them were dead. She wanted Mitch to get things straight. “No one can blame Chel for the things I did, Mitch. Some people are born into a mess. Some people find ways to mess up their own lives. It’s the one thing at which I’ve always excelled.”
“You put your life back together, Carolyn. That takes courage.”
Mitch deftly turned the conversation to other things, managing to make the mundane interesting. She asked about his travels. He talked about riding cross-country on his Harley, interesting people he’d met in diners and campgrounds, sights he’d seen. Carolyn relaxed and enjoyed listening to him. When the timer went off, she put the food on the table. She poured him a glass of wine and set the bottle down before taking her seat across from him. He asked if it would be all right if he said grace. Surprised, she said please, and when he finished, she asked when he’d become a Christian.
“Always have been, just never went to your church.” He’d attended Sunday services all across the country, checking out different denominations. “Thing about knowing the Lord is you have friends and family everywhere. You recognize them when you meet them.”
She didn’t know about church, but she’d found the same rapport in AA meetings. People cared. They didn’t use the Christian jargon, but had their own lingo and simple slogans to get through each day.
Mitch ate as though he enjoyed the food. “What was it like in Haight-Ashbury?”
She told him about the pot and alcohol, the constant parties, the confusion and angst. She told him about Woodstock and the long, frightening drive home with Chel still half out of her mind in the backseat. She told him about Ash and his brand of enlightenment, though she left out the drug-induced sexual exploits, the rapes. Some things should be shared only with God and her dead brother.
“Were you in love with him?”
What she’d felt for Ash couldn’t be called love. “No. I saw him for who he really was the day Chel died. In a way, her death freed me.”
“But you’re still not free of all of it, are you?” His eyes filled with compassion. “You’re still carrying a truckload of guilt and shame.”
She stood and started clearing the table. Mitch helped. He insisted on washing the dishes. She dried and put things away. She thought he would leave then, but he said he’d love a cup of coffee. She apologized for not making a dessert. She’d forgotten. She didn’t even have ice cream or store-bought cookies to offer.
He grinned. “We could always go for a ride on my Harley. There’s a Baskin-Robbins in Walnut Creek.”
She thought of sitting behind him on that powerful bike, her body pressed against his, her arms wrapped around his waist, holding on tight. “I don’t think so.”
She filled two mugs and carried them back into the living room. She asked him more questions about his travels, about the churches he’d visited, the pastors. He laughed. “Oh, there were a few who took one look at my Harley and black leather jacket and tried to bar the door, but for the most part, I felt welcome.” He glanced at the mantel clock. “It’s getting late. I’d better go.”
She stood, amazed at how quickly five hours had passed. Would he think her too forward if she asked him over again? “When do you head back to Healdsburg?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Oh.” She felt the prick of tears, the sting of loss. “Well, it’s been wonderful seeing you, Mitch.”
“Thanks for dinner. It’s been a great evening.” Smiling at her, Mitch shrugged into his black leather jacket. “I’m coming back, Carolyn.”
Relieved, she walked him to the door, remembering what he’d said about never getting over her. Even if that had changed, at least she knew she had a friend.
Mitch put his hand on the doorknob, started to turn it, and then let it go. He turned toward her. He looked uncertain. “Would you mind if I did something I’ve been dreaming about for years?”
“What?”
“Kiss you.”
She caught her breath, but didn’t move. He raised his hand tentatively, giving her the opportunity to say no. He cupped her cheek and bent down slowly, still giving her time to decide. She held her breath. When his mouth touched hers, sensation flooded her body. He raised his head and looked into her eyes. “Nice.”
He kissed her again. She stepped close, her hands slipping inside his leather jacket. He let out a soft groan, and his arms came around her, fitting her to him. She didn’t have to wonder if he was affected. Her body went hot.
She didn’t know how long they stood there, bodies straining to get closer, but she didn’t want him to stop.
Finally Mitch put a few inches between them. “Better than any fantasy I’ve ever had.” He gave a hoarse laugh and kissed her below the ear. “Nice to know your heart’s beating as fast as mine.” His breath sent tingles down her spine. When his hands moved over her back, she instinctively arched against him. He set her away from him. “I need to get out of here.” He opened the door this time.
“Mitch…” She didn’t have to say any more.
“If I stay, I won’t stop. And then you’ll wonder. I don’t want you questioning yourself or having any regrets after we’re married.” He went out.
She stepped out onto the porch. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.” He grinned at her as he pulled on his helmet. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” He swung his leg over and kick-started the motorcycle.
He’d already kick-started her heart; it roared more loudly than his Harley.
21
Mitch called every evening, right after May Flower Dawn had gone to bed. Sometimes they talked until past midnight. He came back every weekend, driving a sedan instead of his Harley so they could include her daughter on Saturday outings. He found activities they all could enjoy: hiking in the hills, a drive into San Francisco to see the Steinhart Aquarium, horseback riding, a baseball game. Carolyn always offered to fix dinner on Friday night, but Mitch said it’d be safer to go to a restaurant. “I have to keep my hands off you in a public place.” He attended church services in Walnut Creek and always invited her. She always refused. She assured him she had her own fellowship to attend. She went to AA meetings every Wednesday night and read the Bible Oma had given her years ago. Sundays were her day of rest, and rest meant staying home and working in the garden while everyone else in her family went to church, including May Flower Dawn.
“Someone really hurt you, didn’t they?”
She shrugged. Why tell him the pastor she’d known all her life said she wasn’t good enough to enter God’s house? Why tell him Thelma Martin was still a deaconess and Rev. Elias still ruled from the pulpit? What right did she have to judge?
When Mitch invited Carolyn and May Flower Dawn to spend a weekend with him in Alexander Valley, Carolyn agreed. Directions in hand, one small suitcase for herself and another for May Flower Dawn, Carolyn drove up.
