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“Would you like me to come?”
Yes, yes. Please come. She thought how reassuring it would be to have Liza by her side if she decided to see Ruth again after all these years. But Liza had France and her family to think of. Sean. It would be selfish to ask her to come, and Kathleen had put her own needs first more than enough in life. “No.” She said it firmly. “There’s no need, but thank you. I should go. We have a table booked and it’s a popular restaurant.”
“Enjoy your evening. Love you, Mum.”
“I love you too.” Feeling better for the conversation, Kathleen headed to the re
staurant. It was crowded with people, the air fragrant with chili, garlic and roasted meat.
She ate red corn posole and it reminded her of the time she’d traveled to Mexico to film The Summer Seekers. When would that have been? 1975? No, later.
Martha and Josh were deep in conversation about their Grand Canyon trip, which left Kathleen time to enjoy the food and the view of the pretty garden.
Ruth had mentioned her garden in California, and her terrace with the view of the Pacific Ocean.
I love to cook, and I still drink Earl Grey tea, as we did all those years ago.
I often think about you and wonder where you are.
I wonder whether you ever think of me, the way I so often think of you. Writing these letters has been my way of staying close to you. When I write them, I feel as if you’re listening.
Kathleen put her fork down. “I want to see her.”
Martha and Josh stopped talking.
“Ruth?”
“Yes, Ruth.” Her heart beat a little faster and she took a sip of water. “I’m here now. I may never make it as far as California again.”
Martha smiled at her. “I think she’ll be beyond thrilled to hear from you.”
“There you go again. Hyperbole.”
“Well, let’s assess her reaction before you correct my grammar.” Martha reached across the table. “Trust me, she’ll be thrilled.”
“Or she might think it strange that I’d make contact after all this time.” Kathleen felt a little shaky. “Maybe she won’t remember me.”
“Kathleen—” Martha was gentle “—she never stopped writing to you. If she didn’t want to hear from you, she would have stopped writing. If you asked me to guess, I’d say she’s been hoping to hear from you for a long time.”
“She might be dead.”
“Or she might be alive and thinking of her old friend.” Martha put down her napkin and stood up. “We’re finished here, so why don’t we go back to the room and do it right now?”
Josh grabbed his beer and Kathleen’s drink. “Good plan.”
And that was how Kathleen found herself sitting on the edge of her bed, between these two people who she’d grown so fond of. Martha on one side, Josh on the other, supporting her like bookends.
“This might be foolish. You can never go back.”
“This isn’t going back, Kathleen. It’s going forward.” Martha opened the message Liza had sent her, with Ruth’s address and phone number.
“That’s easy for you to say. I might regret it.”
This time it was Josh who spoke. “I think in life we tend to regret the things we don’t do more than the things we do, at least that’s how it has always been for me.”
Kathleen knew he was thinking of his brother. She gave his hand a squeeze but didn’t say anything. Her command of the English language and her diction might be superior to Martha’s, but her ability to say the right thing in emotional situations was vastly inferior. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Josh with her clumsy attempts at platitudes.
“And it’s because I don’t want you to feel regrets that we’re rafting on the Colorado River.” Martha earned herself a look from Josh before he turned back to Kathleen.
