Clean Slate by Harley Crowley
Chapter 23
Next to the tool shed was the side door to the garage, with a window in it. Brian peered through the locked door at his Lexus. It was golden colored. He still wondered what possessed him to buy it. But Carrie had suggested going out to dinner, so maybe he'd drive them. He was pretty sure he remembered how to drive.
Before he went out to what looked to be a muddy project, he had taken off his running shoes and found some old shoes on the floor of his closet that were probably the ones he used for outdoor chores. He found a shovel, rake and a hoe in the shed, and a green trash bin. He stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the garden plot. The foliage was finished, yellow brown and soggy, and slumped over on the ground, which was still muddy from some recent rain. He identified the beets, and discovered there were still some left, protected by the soil. Those he dug up and set to one side. There had been tomatoes, and a few small fruits remained, long since rotted by the rain. He pulled out the plants and tossed them into the bin. Along one side were corn stalks, and he pulled those by hand as well. Then he hoed out the rest, including the broad dead leaves of summer squash plants. The bin was overflowing and he tamped it down with the hoe. Such a simple thing, gardening; he felt alive doing this work. Down at the bottom of the garden he had spied a compost pile, so he hauled the bin down to it and upended it on top of some grapefruit rinds and eggshells, and what looked like carrot tops. Then he took the shovel to the garden plot, turning the muddy soil in sections. Fat red earthworms wriggled away from the chunks of earth he upended.
While he worked he tried to imagine his life with Carrie, before this thing happened to him. Their conversations since they first met on Thursday night had mostly been to orient him to his missing life. It was only today that Carrie had talked about herself. He felt good that she had shared some of her feelings with him, the personal things that were important to her. Up until then it had been mostly facts. He hoped he wasn't imagining that she had seemed more at ease with him.
What was it that was wrong between them? Why weren't they sleeping in the same bed? Could he make amends for whatever it was, start over? He had the feeling that he should wait to see if she would tell him, and not press for answers.
In the meantime, there was Katherine to deal with. It was hard to be honest with himself, but he knew he had as much blame as Katherine did. Maybe thinking that way would help him to show some compassion instead of just building a protective barrier. There was risk in that. But there was risk any way he turned. He just knew he had to find a way to defuse her explosive attachment to him, calm her down. Mitigation. He needed to mitigate the damage she could do him, and this life he was discovering with Carrie.
He'd known Carrie for less than two days. And it seemed crazy, but no matter what was wrong with their relationship, he knew that what he was feeling about her was love. It might be the old love, still available just under his surface, or it might be fresh and new. What he didn't know was whether she had any love left for him.
It was noon by the time he finished. He scraped the mud from his shoes and the tools, and stored the tools back in the shed. He left the shoes inside the back door and in his stocking feet walked through the house. Carrie was still upstairs. Back in the kitchen he rummaged the refrigerator and cupboards for lunch ideas. In the back of his mind he knew needed to continue monitoring the messages on the cell phone. He dreaded it. It felt as if there was a bomb ticking there. But at least he had made up his mind now to respond to Katherine in person, and had told her that he would. Otherwise this situation would be left dangling in the breeze, her emotions gaining strength like a wind that could blow the roof off of his house, the life he was barely beginning to repair. There were missing shingles that needed to be nailed down. There was probably structural damage.
It was just a matter of when he could arrange to see her. He had to admit, now that he'd made that decision, he was curious, wondering what it was about her that had attracted him. And what if he was still attracted? The nagging guilt about deceiving Carrie until he could get things sorted out kept him anxious. It felt as if he might have a fresh start, but he was already polluting it.
He mounted the stairs and paused on the top step. Carrie was in her chair by the window, pen in hand, her ankle crossed over her knee, head bent to a stapled packet of paper.
"Knock, knock," he said, rapping his knuckles on the wall. "Are you getting hungry? I could fix us some lunch." She looked up. "How do grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup sound?" He'd found a carton of soup in the cupboard.
"I could eat. Give me about fifteen minutes to get to a stopping place."
"It'll be ready when you are. Take your time." He'd just had a hunger to get a glimpse of her again, like a snack before lunch.
Brian sliced up some crumbly cheddar and buttered slices of bread ready to go on the griddle in the middle of the stovetop, and poured and stirred the soup in a pan over a low flame. While the soup began to warm he wandered around the downstairs of the house, thinking about growing up here, and missing the childhood he couldn't remember. He stood in the bedroom hallway and held his hands against the unfamiliar walls, listening for echoes from the past that might remain there. Silence. He sighed.
At lunch, Carrie looked out the window into the back yard. "You got a lot done," she said, pleased. "You found the compost pit?" He nodded, mouth full.
"I need to put in another couple of hours after lunch," she said, "And then I was thinking we could take a drive around to get you oriented. Maybe something familiar will spark your memory. At least you'll know your way around."
"I went up to the top of the hill above the campus this morning. That tower up there?"
"That was one of our favorite walks, before . . ." She trailed off. Before something happened to us? She finished, " . . . before we both got so busy."
"What's the name of the big mountain with all the snow? It feels like it's on the tip of my tongue."
"Mt. Baker. One of the volcanoes. It has glaciers. Like Mt. Rainier."
"That's right, Now that you say it I think I knew that."
"You know," Carrie said, "we climbed Mt. Rainier once. The summer before you started law school." She patted her round belly. "I couldn't do it now. We trained for months." The memory made her smile, and her smile made him warm.
"You said we went to Italy. When was that?"
"Just before you took the job up here. You had two weeks of vacation to use. We went to Tuscany, and Sicily. And Rome, of course, just for a couple of days."
"I wish I could remember," he said. "It's like I was never there."
"Mostly we stayed in monastery guesthouses." She looked thoughtful. "Have you looked on the bookshelf in the living room at all? We still have the travel book we used that lists them. I think there's one about Baja too, from when we took the nature cruise down to see the whales. It was a wedding present from your mom and dad."
"Did we take pictures?"
"I forgot about that. Of course. They're on your laptop, from the digital camera."
That meant there was more research he could do. With the bookshelves, and the photos, it was beginning to feel he could piece together at least an illustration of the life he couldn't remember. For some reason he wasn't drawn to exploring his study. He hadn't even sat in his own chair. His career was probably there. It might be because he was afraid it was gone, and he would be unemployable.
Next to the tool shed was the side door to the garage, with a window in it. Brian peered through the locked door at his Lexus. It was golden colored. He still wondered what possessed him to buy it. But Carrie had suggested going out to dinner, so maybe he'd drive them. He was pretty sure he remembered how to drive.
Before he went out to what looked to be a muddy project, he had taken off his running shoes and found some old shoes on the floor of his closet that were probably the ones he used for outdoor chores. He found a shovel, rake and a hoe in the shed, and a green trash bin. He stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the garden plot. The foliage was finished, yellow brown and soggy, and slumped over on the ground, which was still muddy from some recent rain. He identified the beets, and discovered there were still some left, protected by the soil. Those he dug up and set to one side. There had been tomatoes, and a few small fruits remained, long since rotted by the rain. He pulled out the plants and tossed them into the bin. Along one side were corn stalks, and he pulled those by hand as well. Then he hoed out the rest, including the broad dead leaves of summer squash plants. The bin was overflowing and he tamped it down with the hoe. Such a simple thing, gardening; he felt alive doing this work. Down at the bottom of the garden he had spied a compost pile, so he hauled the bin down to it and upended it on top of some grapefruit rinds and eggshells, and what looked like carrot tops. Then he took the shovel to the garden plot, turning the muddy soil in sections. Fat red earthworms wriggled away from the chunks of earth he upended.
While he worked he tried to imagine his life with Carrie, before this thing happened to him. Their conversations since they first met on Thursday night had mostly been to orient him to his missing life. It was only today that Carrie had talked about herself. He felt good that she had shared some of her feelings with him, the personal things that were important to her. Up until then it had been mostly facts. He hoped he wasn't imagining that she had seemed more at ease with him.
What was it that was wrong between them? Why weren't they sleeping in the same bed? Could he make amends for whatever it was, start over? He had the feeling that he should wait to see if she would tell him, and not press for answers.
In the meantime, there was Katherine to deal with. It was hard to be honest with himself, but he knew he had as much blame as Katherine did. Maybe thinking that way would help him to show some compassion instead of just building a protective barrier. There was risk in that. But there was risk any way he turned. He just knew he had to find a way to defuse her explosive attachment to him, calm her down. Mitigation. He needed to mitigate the damage she could do him, and this life he was discovering with Carrie.
He'd known Carrie for less than two days. And it seemed crazy, but no matter what was wrong with their relationship, he knew that what he was feeling about her was love. It might be the old love, still available just under his surface, or it might be fresh and new. What he didn't know was whether she had any love left for him.
It was noon by the time he finished. He scraped the mud from his shoes and the tools, and stored the tools back in the shed. He left the shoes inside the back door and in his stocking feet walked through the house. Carrie was still upstairs. Back in the kitchen he rummaged the refrigerator and cupboards for lunch ideas. In the back of his mind he knew needed to continue monitoring the messages on the cell phone. He dreaded it. It felt as if there was a bomb ticking there. But at least he had made up his mind now to respond to Katherine in person, and had told her that he would. Otherwise this situation would be left dangling in the breeze, her emotions gaining strength like a wind that could blow the roof off of his house, the life he was barely beginning to repair. There were missing shingles that needed to be nailed down. There was probably structural damage.
It was just a matter of when he could arrange to see her. He had to admit, now that he'd made that decision, he was curious, wondering what it was about her that had attracted him. And what if he was still attracted? The nagging guilt about deceiving Carrie until he could get things sorted out kept him anxious. It felt as if he might have a fresh start, but he was already polluting it.
He mounted the stairs and paused on the top step. Carrie was in her chair by the window, pen in hand, her ankle crossed over her knee, head bent to a stapled packet of paper.
"Knock, knock," he said, rapping his knuckles on the wall. "Are you getting hungry? I could fix us some lunch." She looked up. "How do grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup sound?" He'd found a carton of soup in the cupboard.
"I could eat. Give me about fifteen minutes to get to a stopping place."
"It'll be ready when you are. Take your time." He'd just had a hunger to get a glimpse of her again, like a snack before lunch.
Brian sliced up some crumbly cheddar and buttered slices of bread ready to go on the griddle in the middle of the stovetop, and poured and stirred the soup in a pan over a low flame. While the soup began to warm he wandered around the downstairs of the house, thinking about growing up here, and missing the childhood he couldn't remember. He stood in the bedroom hallway and held his hands against the unfamiliar walls, listening for echoes from the past that might remain there. Silence. He sighed.
At lunch, Carrie looked out the window into the back yard. "You got a lot done," she said, pleased. "You found the compost pit?" He nodded, mouth full.
"I need to put in another couple of hours after lunch," she said, "And then I was thinking we could take a drive around to get you oriented. Maybe something familiar will spark your memory. At least you'll know your way around."
"I went up to the top of the hill above the campus this morning. That tower up there?"
"That was one of our favorite walks, before . . ." She trailed off. Before something happened to us? She finished, " . . . before we both got so busy."
"What's the name of the big mountain with all the snow? It feels like it's on the tip of my tongue."
"Mt. Baker. One of the volcanoes. It has glaciers. Like Mt. Rainier."
"That's right, Now that you say it I think I knew that."
"You know," Carrie said, "we climbed Mt. Rainier once. The summer before you started law school." She patted her round belly. "I couldn't do it now. We trained for months." The memory made her smile, and her smile made him warm.
"You said we went to Italy. When was that?"
"Just before you took the job up here. You had two weeks of vacation to use. We went to Tuscany, and Sicily. And Rome, of course, just for a couple of days."
"I wish I could remember," he said. "It's like I was never there."
"Mostly we stayed in monastery guesthouses." She looked thoughtful. "Have you looked on the bookshelf in the living room at all? We still have the travel book we used that lists them. I think there's one about Baja too, from when we took the nature cruise down to see the whales. It was a wedding present from your mom and dad."
"Did we take pictures?"
"I forgot about that. Of course. They're on your laptop, from the digital camera."
That meant there was more research he could do. With the bookshelves, and the photos, it was beginning to feel he could piece together at least an illustration of the life he couldn't remember. For some reason he wasn't drawn to exploring his study. He hadn't even sat in his own chair. His career was probably there. It might be because he was afraid it was gone, and he would be unemployable.