Between Land and Sea Read online

  Barbara’s head was still throbbing, but she felt a strong sense of satisfaction. She was certain that Lisa738 would seek out Annabella and share the details of this conversation with her. Barbara wanted her grandmother to know what she had discovered about her mother. Let Annabella stew for a while.

  Barbara rubbed her temples. This is my first human headache and I don’t like it. She took two Tylenols and went immediately to bed. She made a mental note to always contact Lisa738 in the evenings. She could not afford to be this disoriented during the day.

  “Wake up, Isabella! Wake up!” Barbara heard a familiar voice from her mermaid past.

  Barbara sat up and looked directly into the eyes of her grandmother who was floating above the night table. “Grandmother! What are you doing here? I thought we wouldn’t see each other again.”

  “That was my intention, but I had to come, especially after hearing about your recent conversation with Lisa738.”

  Barbara glanced at the alarm clock and groaned. Four a.m. “You couldn’t wait until later in the morning?”

  “As a mermaid, you could stay up all night.”

  “Have you forgotten that I lost my tail and got this aging human body instead?”

  Annabella tensed. “You’re still bitter about your circumstances.”

  Barbara was fully awake by now. “About those circumstances, Grandmother, why did you decide to give me the body of an older woman? And please don’t tell me that it was unavoidable. I know that Gillian and Belinda retained their looks and I’m willing to bet that Kendra did as well.”

  “I was very angry with you, much angrier than I was with any of the others,” Annabella said. “Mirabella was a major disappointment. As for the others, I didn’t really care.”

  “You cared so much about me that you decided to make my human life as difficult as possible.”

  “It saddens me to see so much anger inside you. It’s not healthy, and it will harm your human body and mind.” Annabella brushed away a tear.

  Barbara had never seen her grandmother cry. She didn’t even think that was possible.

  “I’ve been following your progress through Lisa738,” Annabella said. “I’m very pleased and proud of what you have accomplished so far. You have transformed those drab looks and are flourishing here in Carden. You have found a good man in Graham and you are surrounded by supportive friends and colleagues.” Annabella paused. “Think carefully before you make any major changes like leaving Carden. That impulsive nature of yours could get you into trouble again.”

  “You want me to bury myself in this backwater town? It wasn’t good enough for Mirabella, but it’s the best I can do? Is that how little you think of me, Grandmother?”

  “You are blinded by your anger toward me and Mirabella. That anger is controlling all your actions. Let it go, Isabella. Let it go.”

  Barbara threw up her hands. “Let that go and do what? Give up my writing ambitions? Marry Graham and devote my life to preparing Martha Stewart meals?”

  “You don’t have to give up your writing. You are using your storytelling abilities, and I am very proud of you. But you don’t have to move to New York. You can be a successful author and still live here.”

  “Why must I live so small? Are you afraid I might surpass Mirabella? Is New York not big enough for both of us?”

  “In the past, I always encouraged that competitive spirit, but it is misplaced here. You have the beginnings of a wonderful life. You just don’t know it yet.” Her grandmother blew her a kiss and faded away.

  Barbara woke up to the incessant ringing of her alarm clock. Her head still throbbed and she could taste the bile in her mouth. She turned off the alarm and noticed a small seashell sitting on her night table. Pale pink and delicate, the seashell reminded her of her favourite cove along the Malta shoreline. She sat up. It had not been a dream. Annabella had visited her last night. Her mouth tightened as she recalled fragments of that conversation. For some perverse reason, Annabella wanted her to stay in Carden and not venture any further. Her grandmother didn’t want her to connect with Mirabella. How unnatural of her to think that way! Every daughter wants some kind of connection with her mother, even if the relationship is not a pleasant one.

  Barbara looked longingly at her bed. She was tempted to take a sick day. She was entitled to two a month and had not taken any since she had started her job. But deep down, she knew that an unstructured day would only add to her discomfort. She would continue to obsess about her conversation with Annabella and get very little else done. At the office, she would interact with her colleagues and work on her book.

  The book.

  She smiled and calculated that she could easily complete the final draft by the end of tomorrow. And then she would celebrate with Graham.

  The dinner party.

  She had forgotten all about it. But she was not worried. The Specialist Skills button gave her access to millions of tried-and-true recipes. She no longer had to depend upon cookbooks. She could intuitively create and produce a magnificent meal. And she had none of the jitters of an inexperienced hostess.

  In spite of this extensive font of knowledge, Barbara found herself settling upon one of Andrew’s favourite meals. He had often raved about the succulent gnocchi, tender veal, and decadent tiramisù that he had enjoyed during his visits to Italy. She recalled how his eyes would light up whenever he described these dishes to her.

  She realized that she no longer harbored any resentment toward Andrew. Even if he had allowed her into his life, they would not have stayed together. Embarrassed by her altered looks, he would have kept her hidden. That would not have sat well with her Bella nature. A natural born extravert, she longed to be center stage.

  She showered, had breakfast, and dressed for the day. She took extra care with her makeup and skillfully camouflaged the dark circles under her eyes. She then sat down and made up her grocery list. She would go shopping after work and make the tomato sauce, gnocchi, and tiramisù this evening. Tomorrow she would only need a couple of hours to cook the meat and set the table.

  Chapter 9

  At work, Barbara forgot all about Annabella. The phone rang incessantly and a steady flow of clients came through the door. She was only able to carve out an hour for her writing. But it didn’t matter. She was still making progress and would complete the final draft by the end of tomorrow.

  After work, she rushed over to No Frills and purchased all the groceries on her list. When the cashier rang up her bill, Barbara cringed at the final total. Then she thought of the wonderful smile that had lit up Graham’s face when she had offered to prepare him a home-cooked meal.

  She ate a quick supper and spent the rest of the evening preparing the tomato sauce, gnocchi, and tiramisù. In spite of her expertise, she still found herself tired when she had finished.

  Looking through the kitchen cupboards, she discovered an eight-piece Royal Albert china set and lovely candelabra. Both would sit very nicely on the white damask tablecloth she had purchased for the occasion.

  The following day, Barbara completed the manuscript in the early afternoon. She printed out the last chapter and added it to the thick manuscript in her tote bag. She glanced with pride at the title page of her work. She had kept the original title—On Becoming a Butterfly. She took a deep breath and walked toward Janice’s office. She knocked on the door and entered.

  Janice looked up and smiled widely as her eyes traveled to the bulging tote bag. She clapped her hands. “Perfect. It looks like a cold, rainy weekend. I’m going to devote the entire weekend to reading your manuscript.” She then motioned for Barbara to sit down.

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about a possible opening here.”

  “Is someone leaving?”

  Janice lowered her voice and leaned toward Barbara. “Carolyn is not well. She’s been having problems with fibroids and her gynecologist has suggested a hysterectomy. She is not one hundred percent sure about the surgery, so please keep this confide
ntial. But if she decides to go ahead with it, she’ll be gone for at least three months, possibly longer.” She paused. “I was wondering if you would be interested in taking over her client load during this period.”

  Barbara’s head whirled with possibilities. She enjoyed meeting clients and would love to be more involved in the counseling process. “I’m definitely interested. When would Carolyn be having the surgery?”

  “If she decides, she’ll be having it sometime in January.” Janice tapped her pen. “Sarah, our usual receptionist, will be returning in February. Leslie could easily cover until that time. I was hoping that I could offer you something. I don’t really want to see you go.” She opened her arms. “None of us do. You are part of the ReCareering family now.”

  Barbara blushed. She enjoyed her job and was gratified that the others liked working with her as well. It’s only temporary. Don’t get too attached. The intrusive thought disturbed her and she frowned.

  “Is something wrong, Barbara?”

  Barbara looked up guiltily into Janice’s concerned face. Her employer was a genuinely nice person, and she would never forget her many kindnesses. It would not be that easy to walk away from the ReCareering office. “No, I just had a flash about a message I forgot to return this morning. I’m a bit obsessive sometimes.”

  Janice held up the manuscript. “Yes, I can definitely see traces of that here. I can’t get over how disciplined you are. I am certain this book will be a pleasure to read. I’ll let you know—”

  A soft knock on the door interrupted the conversation. Both women looked up to see an Asian couple standing hesitatingly at the door. “There was no one at the front desk. We didn’t know where to go.”

  Janice immediately took charge and escorted the couple to their counselor.

  Barbara returned to her desk. Her mind was exploding with ideas. The counseling job would give her more experience and opportunities to present workshops and seminars. This opening—even if it was only for a few months—would provide her with the platform she needed for her book. She glanced toward Carolyn’s cubicle. Even at a distance, she could tell the woman was not well. Her face was pale and her motions were slow and labored. She needed the surgery and Barbara hoped that all would go well for her.

  The rest of the afternoon dragged. She finally understood and appreciated the meaning of TGIF.

  She walked home briskly and took care of the final details for the dinner party. She moved with precision and mindfulness between tasks. In no time at all, the salad and appetizers were prepared, the veal was cooked to tender perfection, and the table was set. She quickly showered, redid her makeup, and changed into her jeans and a deep purple turtleneck.

  She sighed in satisfaction as she surveyed her table. All that was left was to cook the gnocchi and heat the tomato sauce. She could easily do that after Graham arrived. Thirty minutes to spare.

  She sat down to read the latest Oprah magazine. She immersed herself in the Martha Beck article, making a few notes along the way. The buzzer startled her. She walked over to the intercom and buzzed Graham into the building.

  Her heart fluttered when she saw him. They stood awkwardly at the door for a few minutes. Graham winked and spoke first. “We could just skip dinner.”

  Barbara was tempted, but she wanted to eat first. This was her first dinner party, and she wished for everything to be perfect. She noticed him looking about the room and smiling in approval. The table looked lovely and the soft candlelight added to the romantic mood.

  Suddenly, Graham tensed. He walked toward the table and picked up one of the plates. He turned it around. “Just as I thought. Royal Albert.”

  “So, you’re an expert on china as well. I’m impressed.”

  “It’s the same pattern my mother used when we lived here in Carden.” He sighed. “After we left, I never saw the dishes again. She must have sold them.”

  Barbara thought of the cupboards and closets filled with linens and other home furnishings and wondered at their origins. Could these be Mrs. Scott’s dishes? Had Graham’s mother sold her dishes and other belongings to Paul Armstrong? She asked, “When did you leave Carden?”

  “We left a few weeks after my parents got divorced. I was five years old and just starting kindergarten. My mother wanted to get as far away from Carden as possible. But then the car broke down and we only made it as far as Barrie.” His face hardened. “She worked as a nurse until she was sixty years old, retired, and died of cancer fifteen months later.”

  Barbara hugged him and held him close. He pulled away quickly and took a few minutes to collect himself. “I’m sorry, Barbara. I didn’t really want to go down Memory Lane with you. It’s just those dishes.” He took a deep breath and smiled. “But enough about that. I’m dying to know what that lovely aroma is. Is it some kind of delectable meat?”

  “I decided on an Italian theme. I remembered that you like that kind of food.”

  “I love all Mediterranean dishes. I must have lived there in one of my former lives.” He walked briskly toward the kitchen. “Can I help? I love to cook, and I want to see what other appetizing dishes you have in store for me tonight.”

  Barbara was still concerned about Graham. Though he always seemed so carefree and at ease, she sensed that there was definitely a dark side to his past. She longed to ask more questions, but did not want to add to his stress and spoil the evening.

  She laughingly joined him in the kitchen. Together they cooked the gnocchi, heated the sauce and veal, and carried the dishes to the table. Barbara was impressed by Graham’s attentiveness and interest in the food. The rest of the evening was delightful. Graham regaled her with more tales of his travels and the various cuisines he had enjoyed. Barbara learned that Greek food was his favourite. The next time she invited him, she would prepare a Greek meal. In her mind, she put together the menu. She would start out with a Greek salad. For the main dish, she wavered between moussaka and souvlaki. Dessert would be baklava. Her thoughts were already assembling the ingredients for the dishes.

  “Earth to Barbara. Earth to Barbara.” Graham laughed. “Have you heard a single word I’ve said in the last five minutes?”

  “I’m sorry. When you said you liked Greek food, I started to plan the menu for our next dinner together.”

  Graham got up and motioned toward the living area. “Let’s concentrate on this evening.”

  Barbara followed him. They sat close together on the sofa and looked into each other’s eyes. He moved in closer and crushed her to his chest. Her body tightened from the contact, and she lifted her face to his as she wound her arms around his neck. His kiss was deep and hungry, making her forget everything but him.

  He whispered into her neck, “You’re driving me crazy. I can’t concentrate. I think about you all the time.”

  She wanted to tell him how much he meant to her, but the words refused to come. Instead, she drew him close, and gave him a long, lingering kiss. Suddenly the room spun and she lost all sense of time and place. She didn’t notice they had moved into the bedroom until the soft duvet pressed against her back. Gently he eased her down on the bed, sliding her sweater off over her head. He stood to discard his own clothes.

  She watched his well-muscled body emerge, and when he lay down and gathered her in his arms, all her doubts and fears vanished. He made love to her very slowly and methodically, exploring every curve and crevice of her body. Afterward, she lay with her head on his shoulder, dazed and basking in his love.

  Chapter 10

  Graham spent the rest of the weekend visiting a few artists and suppliers in Toronto and Barrie. Barbara welcomed the reprieve. She had relished the lovemaking, but was consumed with guilt regarding her feelings for Graham. The relationship had moved to the next level, and she was certain that Graham would want to spend more evenings with her. She trembled as she thought of her own plans for the future. They did not involve Graham, or anyone else in Carden for that matter.

  The weather forecast predicted
cold, rainy weather all weekend. Good. She could stay inside and cocoon. She busied herself with cleaning the apartment, doing laundry, and cooking for the week. She worked nonstop, making enough chicken soup, meatballs, veggie burgers, and lasagne to last for the next month. She did not leave herself any time to think about Graham.

  Early Sunday evening, the phone rang. Barbara checked the call display and her heart started pounding. Graham was back in town. She did not pick up the telephone.

  Though still tired from her cooking marathon, Barbara decided to bake. She made two batches of chocolate chip muffins, which she had no intention of eating. She would bring them into the office tomorrow.

  Barbara turned in early that evening. She tossed and turned for most of the night and woke up before the alarm sounded the following morning. She showered, ate, and dressed quickly. Having spent all weekend inside, she decided to take a long, brisk walk before work. A few extra pounds seemed to have settled around her midriff. She was determined to be a size ten by Christmas.

  The thirty-minute power walk energized Barbara. She arrived at the office a few minutes before starting time. She greeted everyone and placed the tray of muffins beside the coffee machine. The other ladies eagerly headed toward the muffins and proceeded to ooh and aah over the treats. Janice came out of her office to see what the commotion was all about.

  “Barbara baked the most delectable chocolate chip muffins. You must taste them before they’re all gone, Janice.” Alice spoke between bites. “I’ve already had two.”

  Janice turned and smiled at Barbara. “More of your hidden talents, Barbara. Why am I not surprised?”

  Barbara’s heart started pounding and she looked with anticipation at Janice.

  Janice helped herself to a muffin and nodded toward her office. Barbara followed her. The two women sat down. Janice picked up the manuscript and shook her head in amazement. “I had a wonderful time reading your book. I can’t get over how well written it is.” She flipped through the pages. “I have made a few suggestions and corrections. You could probably make all the changes in a week, or even less, in your case.” She asked, “Have you decided on your next step?”