No Runs, No Hits, No Errors
Chapter 6
Phil Van Demeer liked Kathleen's
little black dress. She knew it by the way he inhaled sharply when she answered
the door Saturday night, his eyes flickering over her appreciatively as he
thrust into her hands a bouquet of blue cornflowers--a tribute to their first
meeting. Kathleen was delighted. Phil clearly had a romantic streak that boded
well for the evening that lay before her.
Byron Kavenaugh came up from his
basement laboratory to meet his daughter's date for the evening while Kathleen
found a vase for her flowers and a glass of wine for the man who had brought
them. Being an old-world gentleman himself, Byron had strict standards by which
he measured a man. Sadly, most men didn't make the cut in his eyes and he never
hesitated to wave Kathleen off those who came up short. Now, perched next to
Phil on the leather couch in the living room, Kathleen couldn't quite tell
whether the man with the cornflower eyes and sparkling smile passed muster with
her father. Granted, his manners were impeccable, his conversation beyond
reproach, and his self-control remarkable. Not even when Byron began explaining
his life's ambition to develop off-the-shelf prosthetics did Phil exhibit the
slightest hint of boredom or mirth. Nevertheless, Kathleen couldn't quite tell
what her father thought of him. Since she knew she'd know soon enough anyway,
she decided to simply enjoy the evening and not worry too much about the
future.
Truth to tell, Kathleen had been
surprised by how much she had been worrying about her date with Phil. Harry
Kinsley's cryptic warnings of the night before had made her a little edgy, not
that she put much stock in what Harry said--he was always needling her about
something, but his jibes had made her realize how much she wanted Phil to like
her. Dorie Eastman seemed to think that Kathleen and Phil would be perfect for
each other, and Dorie was uncanny when it came to reading men.
Kathleen hadn't slept well
Friday night after Harry had left. Thoughts of the evening spent at the
Riverdale kids club and all the new sensations that experience had brought
merged with first-date anxiety. Not even spending most of Saturday at the spa
had brought Kathleen back to her normal equilibrium. She considered herself
lucky to get into the spa on such short notice anyway. The first thing she had
done Friday night after calling Phil to accept his invitation for dinner was to
dial Della to see whether she and Dirk could squeeze her in. Kathleen needn't
have worried.
Since Della Goodnough had opened
the 'Buff and Shine' day spa in Juniper Hills two years earlier, Kathleen
Kavenaugh had been her most reliable client and Della wasn't about to let her
down now. Despite attending college a hundred miles away, Kathleen had made the
trip home once a month for a haircut, massage, facial, manicure, and ozone
oxygen therapy treatment. Of course, Harry Kinsley was snotty about the
spa--called it the 'Spit and Polish Emporium'--and insisted that had Kathleen
chosen a real major in college she could never have afforded the time she
invested in visiting the spa. Kathleen, on the other hand, felt trips to the
spa kept her human and Della and Dirk kept her informed.
Dirk Gibson was the best
hairdresser Kathleen had ever had the pleasure of tipping. Of course, when
Kathleen had first poked her nose into the 'Buff and Shine,' she had mistaken
Dirk for the plumber, as did most residents of Juniper Hills upon first meeting
up with him. Slightly paunchy, clad in a tee-shirt and jeans, sporting a buzz cut
and dragon tattoo, Dirk looked every inch the sailor he had been when he had
met Della in Jamaica sometime during the previous decade. She had wanted a
green card and he had wanted a woman; together they found complete simpatico.
Dirk, under Della's tutelage, discovered he could cut hair like nobody's
business. Kathleen liked him because he knew how to make her hair sit up and
take notice. No dull listlessness when Dirk was wielding the shears. He knew
how to sweet-talk Kathleen's blond tendrils into curving under her chin and
framing the delicate lines of her face. Not only that, Dirk chatted up his
customers, inquiring as to their preferences and probing their anxieties
without a trace of the effeminate. Not one to get without giving, Dirk was the
ultimate font of Juniper Hills gossip. He was worth his weight in conditioner.
Yes, Phil Van Demeer liked
Kathleen's little black dress. She knew it by the way his hand lingered on her
back as he guided her through the gate leading to the Flagstaff House. After
chatting with Byron for the requisite time, Phil and Kathleen made good their
escape. Phil drove them out of Juniper Hills and through nearby Boulder and up
into the foothills to the establishment dubbed the most romantic restaurant in
the region. Through a winding forest road they drove, with each curve bringing
a more spectacular view of Boulder Valley into focus. Phil slowed the car to a
respectable crawl and unrolled the windows so they could drink in the piney
smell of rain-washed woods. And then they were there and Phil was taking back
possession of Kathleen from the valet who handed her out of the car. Kathleen
could feel Phil's palm slip down her spine until it rested in the hollow of the
small of her back. She wondered if the hairs on the back of his neck were
tingling the way hers were. She wondered if the butterflies in her stomach were
for real this time.
She knew Phil liked her dress by
the way he cocked his chin ever so slightly when other men in the restaurant
let their eyes linger on her as she and Phil followed the maître d' to their
table. Although Kathleen prided herself on her remarkable lack of personal
vanity, she was not disingenuous regarding her own attractiveness. She knew
that her well-groomed person in a classic dress, just a shade short and a tad
off the shoulder, splashed with Chanel and elevated by Manolos would render the
better part of the male population senseless. She was right.
Dinner was fantastic, and it
wasn't just the cuisine, the ambience, or the wine cellar of the Flagstaff
House. Phil was a dream date. Unlike every other man or boy Kathleen had dated
since Byron had turned her loose when she was sixteen, Phil knew how to treat a
lady. It wasn't just opening doors and that kind of thing. He talked, but not
about himself. Unlike the others, Phil didn't feel compelled to tell Kathleen
about his golf swing, the size of his portfolio, his condo in Vail, his letter
jacket, or his GPA, BMW, or IQ. Wisely he kept the conversation centered
squarely on Kathleen's favorite subject--herself. He asked her questions and
listened to her answers. He laughed at her jokes and smiled into her eyes.
He didn't know much about art,
but he knew what he liked. Maybe she could help him understand why he liked
what he liked.
He didn't know much about
Juniper Hills, but wanted to get to know the town better. Maybe she would take
him under her wing.
He had always wanted to swing
dance but had never learned, maybe she could teach him a few steps. Kathleen
left dinner with a date for Tuesday night.
#
Kathleen knew Phil liked her
little black dress by the way he held her hand as they wandered through a
gallery opening downtown after dinner, letting other art patrons know that
Kathleen was spoken for. The gallery opening had been a spur of the moment
idea. The conversation about art over dinner had led to her to tell Phil all
about the local art scene. The fact that Kathleen knew two of the artists who
were being featured in the new gallery was enough for Phil to suggest they
attend the opening. Had she choreographed the evening it couldn't have gone
better. The only fly in the ointment was seeing Joanna at the opening, but then
Phil turned that around as well.
Actually Joanna's name had come
up over dinner. Phil had asked Kathleen how she liked playing softball and so
she told him how she had been pressured into playing. He mentioned that he had
met Joanna Bridges on his flight from New York when he came out to interview
with Dixon, Dabney, and Colfax in January. Mike Eastman had been badgering him
to join the firm for a couple of years and so he had finally decided to check
out the law firm, Juniper Hills, and Colorado in general. He had liked what he
saw and accepted their offer. He didn't say so, but Kathleen knew they must
have made him an offer he couldn't refuse. Mike had said that Phil was already
fast-tracking to partner and was the best thing to happen to the firm in years.
It was an understatement to say
that Kathleen was pleased that Joanna hadn't mesmerized Phil the way she had
virtually every other man she encountered. Kathleen was so pleased, in fact,
that she couldn't resist passing on a little tidbit that Dirk Gibson had fed
her earlier that day while he was cutting her hair. Dirk had asked her why she
was ruining her nails playing softball and Kathleen had defended herself by
explaining that she had to fill in for Colleen who couldn't play that year
because she was pregnant.
"Don't be so Victorian,
Kathleen love," Dirk had replied. "Women don't stop living just
because they're pregnant. The days of sitting on your duff on a pillow and
eating for two are over. Look at Joanna Bridges, rumor has it that she's got a
bun in the oven and she's on your team. I'll bet she even continues modeling
until she delivers."
Had Dirk told her that Joanna
Bridges was a leprechaun, Kathleen couldn't have been more surprised. Dirk
didn't know who the father was, but Kathleen would be first to know after he
found out. Kathleen had flipped her hair saucily--she may not model swimsuits,
play tournament volleyball, or throw a softball like a pro, but at least she
wasn't pregnant. Maybe Joanna wasn't as smart as she acted.
When Kathleen told Phil the
rumor Dirk had told her, the smile on his face faded. For a panicked moment,
Kathleen was afraid that he wouldn't like her anymore because she had gossiped.
But then he explained why he was so grave. The firm was in transition--the
principals were arguing about the direction the firm would take. This news
would bring tensions to a head because Matthew Dixon had been seeing Joanna on
the side for a couple of years. Evelyn Dixon, Matthew's wife of thirty-five
years, had turned a blind eye to the affair but their daughter Marsha was
boiling mad and was ready to make an issue of it. So ready, in fact, that Phil
feared Marsha would side with Dabney and Colfax against her own father.
Kathleen remembered Marsha's
comments at the scrimmage.
"So that's why Marsha Dixon
wants to tar and feather Joanna," Kathleen cooed. "Poor Marsha. Poor
Evelyn. What do men see in a home wrecker like that? I've never liked Joanna,
but this is too much." Kathleen paused, "It must be Matthew's
baby." Phil's eyes told her she had guessed the truth.
When they saw Joanna at the
gallery opening, chatting with the artists, Phil boldly went up to her and took
the glass she was holding right out of her hand. "No alcohol for you, in
your condition." Kathleen couldn't help smiling inside as she watched
Joanna's eyes grow large, as she took Phil's meaning, but then Kathleen felt
the prickles of conscience when Phil went on to ask Joanna whether she knew
Matthew Dixon's taste in paintings. He claimed that he was asking because he
was on the committee to redecorate the law office and wanted to favor local
artists. Joanna stammered and blushed and finally turned away from Phil and
Kathleen. Kathleen watched Joanna leave shortly afterwards. She was relieved
that Harry hadn't witnessed the scene. She knew she would have been scolded for
taking delight in seeing Joanna squirm, but she loved the fact that Phil was
clearly on her side.
Phil Van Demeer liked Kathleen's
little black dress. He told her so just before he kissed her goodnight. Like a
scene out of a Coca-Cola ad or a Norman Rockwell poster, Phil walked Kathleen
to the door. She asked him in but he declined. With a soft look in his eyes, he
took her hand and kissed it lightly.
"You're a princess,"
he murmured. "And that dress is driving me crazy, but we better say
goodnight because it's almost midnight and princesses always have to be in bed
by midnight if they want to be let out of the castle again."
She laughed at his silliness and
his gallantry and the way he made the hair on her neck tingle. He leaned
forward, and her eyes closed as she drank in the lovely aromas that surrounded
him. She thought of Armani and spearmint, soap and scotch. The prickly hairs of
his moustache grazed her skin. His hands on her back and shoulders belied the
restraint she felt in his lips.
"I'll see you Tuesday, and
you'll teach me to dance, right?"
She nodded, then let herself in
and leaned against the door, listening to him walk down the steps, start his
car, and drive off into the night.
Dorie--I owe you one. Phil Van Demeer was exactly the right
antidote to Harry Kinsley and playing softball with the Trojans.
Kathleen was still leaning
against the front door, still wearing the smile of the blessed when Bryon
emerged from his basement laboratory carrying a plastic hip.
"Back so soon? Another dud,
eh?" Byron didn't wait for Kathleen to contradict his assessment of her
date, but waved the hip in her face, commanding her attention and bringing her
back to Earth.
"Will you look at this
baby? Perfect action, if I do say so myself. This is going to give the old
girls hips that are worthy of Olympians. I almost wish Gramma Bridges would
take another spill like she did last winter, and then we could try it out close
to home. I don't much want to go back up to Mayo--too muggy up there for my
constitution--but we need a field test." He paused to play with the ball-and-joint
and admire his handiwork.
"Hot milk," he asked.
Kathleen nodded and then
insisted that she make the nightly honey-laced beverage for herself and her
father. She didn't expect Byron to be actually interested in the details of her
date with Phil. Apart from ensuring that she hadn't ruined her digestion with
the Flagstaff House's hellishly rich food and noting that her date was enough
of a gentleman to get her home at a decent hour, Byron was far and away more
interested in his hip than in his daughter's evening. He did, however, remember
to mention that the phone had been ringing off the hook all evening. He hadn't
bothered to answer it, but she might check for messages.
There were four. First, Colleen
wanted Kathleen to go to church with her in the morning. She was teaching
Sunday School and wanted Kathleen to run interference and keep tabs on the
children while she was busy. Free babysitting--in other words. Jack was
working again, Colleen added testily, and she really needed Kathleen and
promised to make it up to her.
Working again? Kathleen hadn't noticed that Jack was
logging extra hours. She glanced at the clock--quarter past midnight. Too late
to call, but then Colleen had said that she would pick up Kathleen at
nine-thirty sharp, leaving Kathleen no wiggle room.
The next message was from Dirk,
the hairdresser. He hemmed and hawed, apologizing for calling Kathleen at home
and starting at least two off-color stories before realizing that he couldn't
deliver the punch line because...well, Kathleen could put two and two together
and figure them out anyway and he wasn't about to get raunchy over the phone.
Finally, he came to the point and asked Kathleen to please, "for gawd's
sake," not repeat what he had implied about "the divine Miss Joanna
being in the family way." Della had "like to have skinned him
alive" when she discovered that he had passed along that information to
Kathleen. Kathleen's stomach flip-flopped and her face turned red though there
was no one in the room to appreciate it. Not only had she gossiped about Joanna
to Phil based on what Dirk had told her, but it looked like she had gotten Dirk
into real trouble because Phil had let Joanna know the secret was out. Joanna
would harangue Della, and Della would deep fry Dirk, all because Kathleen
hadn't been discrete. Gossip corrupts. Gossip about a swimsuit model corrupts
absolutely. At least, Kathleen reminded herself, she was going to church in the
morning. She could ask for forgiveness then.
The third message was from
Connie Martinez. Connie was following up to make sure that Kathleen realized
that she had committed to coming to the Riverdale B&G Club every Friday
through the end of summer. Kathleen knew that Connie was tactfully giving her a
way out of the commitment she had made. Kathleen got the message: backing out
now was okay; backing out next Friday afternoon was not. Kathleen jotted down
Connie's number with a note to call her tomorrow. She had no intention of being
a backslider.
The fourth message was from
Maggie Obermann. Maggie had an opening at the gym on Sunday afternoon if
Kathleen wanted to drop by for some time in the batting cage. Kathleen's heart
sank. She had honestly not thought about softball and her manifold inadequacies
at the game since Phil's flowers had arrived Friday afternoon. First the
flowers, then the Riverdale B&G Club and the origami cranes and the way she
had actually one-upped the great and mighty Harry himself, then the day at the
spa, followed by a date with a Greek god. Sunday wasn't shaping up well at
all...penance at church followed by purgatory in a batting cage. But Maggie
sounded eager and earnest that Kathleen knew she didn't have the heart to say
no. She wrote down Maggie's number under Connie's.
An enormous yawn nearly split
her face. Kathleen went back to the kitchen, rezapped her hot milk, turned off
the air conditioning, and locked up the house. She yelled a goodnight
downstairs to where Byron was continuing to put the new hip through its paces,
and snuggled under the covers with People.
Monday morning practice was
abysmal. Kathleen had worked for two hours with Maggie the day before and was
feeling pretty comfortable with the progress she was making. The problem was
that Harry didn't seem to notice or care. The rest of the team was ecstatic.
Maggie was like a proud mama whenever Kathleen made contact with the ball. Rob
Haskins was almost delirious with joy when Kathleen was able to shift her
stance and send the ball through the hole between short stop and third instead
of straight to first. And Elliot actually hugged her when she crossed home
plate for the first time during their practice scrimmage. Even surly Bob Martin
complimented her when she hit a pop fly--"you got under it, but good
power." Jack didn't show up for practice, and Harry was twenty minutes
late. He had bags under his eyes and his cheerfulness seemed forced. Still, he
had stopped by the bakery for crullers and bear claws for the team.
Colleen had told Kathleen that
both Jack and Harry had worked all weekend. Apparently, they had worked every
night last week but Friday as well. The Heidelberg project was taking longer
than they had budgeted, and with the new Forsythe contract, they couldn't
afford to do as much rework as they were looking at.
"Lettie's dropped the
ball," Colleen had said confidentially. "Jack won't tell her that
he's found mistakes in most of her calculations, but she's missing everything,
he says. They've decided to have Harry go back and check everything that she
designed on this project while Jack wraps up loose ends. It's taking everything
they've got, poor sweethearts," Colleen concluded with a sigh. Then she
looked sharply at her sister, "Now don't breathe a word of this to anyone,
Kath. Jack would be furious if he knew I told you, but you're family and you're
just going to have to help me with the kids while Jack takes care of
business."
Still smarting from knowing that
she shouldn't have gossiped about Joanna, Kathleen silently vowed to herself
that her promise to her sister to keep her mouth shut was sacred. Hence, it
came as some surprise to Kathleen when she found herself knocking on Harry's
door Monday afternoon, closing it behind her when he granted her admittance,
and then asking him how she could help him and Jack finish the Heidelberg
project.
"Did Colleen tell you
what's going on, or rather, what's going wrong," Harry asked curtly.
Kathleen nodded. Harry looked at
her evenly, as if trying to size her up, as if waiting for a sign in her
pretty, passive face that would tell him how to proceed. After what seemed like
an interminable time, he answered, "If you can work late tonight,
tomorrow, and Wednesday, I can show you how to pick up red lines and make the
changes on the electronic version. Then, I'll just need to check and stamp the
drawings and we're done."
As he spoke, Kathleen watched
Harry's face relax before her eyes, the worry wrinkles simply dissolving as he
made her part of his team, accepting her help. She smiled inside and was
surprised to find that she wanted to hug that exasperating, demanding, vibrant
man.
And then, a split-second after
she agreed to help Harry, she remembered her Tuesday night date with Phil. She
had arranged for them to go swing dancing with the Eastmans.
"How late do you think
we'll need to work each night," she asked, with as much innocence as she
could muster.
Harry laughed. "Until we're
done, of course." And then the smile faded as he looked beyond the
innocence. "But you've got plans, don't you?"
"Nothing that can't be
changed." I won't let down the side. I can't.
Harry looked at Kathleen
steadily. She bit her lip unconsciously under his gaze. He looked at the
ceiling, and then at the floor, and then slowly at her. "Remind me to tell
you that I love you," he said.
"It's okay. Really. We're
family, remember?"
And then she couldn't read his
face. He had the most curious expression. It reminded her of a movie she had
watched about Harry Houdini. Harry was wearing the same expression Houdini had
worn when he had taken a fatal blow. He hadn't been expecting the man he had
selected from the audience to give him a blow to the ribs, but it killed him.
Here was a man who could escape from chains over Niagara Fall, killed by a
sucker punch.
Kathleen had expected Harry to
smile at her comment, but he didn't. His eyes wavered between eagerness and
sadness.
"Right. I'd almost
forgotten," he said, and then he swiveled back to his computer screen.
Over his shoulder he added, "You're a sport, Kath. Thanks for being a
trooper. I owe you one."
Kathleen closed the door softly
behind her. She felt her eyes fill with tears. Had someone asked her, she would
have been unable to answer why Harry Kinsley thanking her for doing him a favor
could make her feel so badly.
Phil was sweet about her
breaking their date for Tuesday night when she called him from the K-B-K
parking lot Monday evening. It wouldn't hurt for him to put in some extra hours
himself, he admitted. Hurrah! That could only mean that he was not
harboring designs on any other female in the vicinity. Kathleen considered
herself a very lucky girl indeed.
"How about Thursday,"
he suggested. Thursday was game night, Kathleen reminded him.
"How about Friday
then?"
Kathleen hesitated. For some
reason, she didn't want to tell Phil about her role at the Riverdale B&G Club.
Not yet anyway. Glorified babysitting wasn't exactly part of the skill set she
wanted Phil to associate with her.
"How about Saturday,"
she countered. No good. Phil had to fly to New York to meet with a client.
"You meet with clients on
Sunday?"
"Well, we do a dinner
meeting on Sunday to decide what's going to happen in the actual meeting on
Monday."
"You have meetings to
decide what's going to happen in meetings?" Kathleen was glad she had
majored in art history and not business.
"Friday really won't work
for you?" Phil pleaded gently.
"I'm tied up until
eleven."
"Should I be jealous?"
Kathleen blushed and then,
pleased that it would even occur to Phil to be jealous of how she spent her
time, found herself saying, "I think I can work things around so that I
can be free by eight. If Friday's the only night we can go dancing, then Friday
it is."
"Kathleen, you are the
sweetest girl on the planet."
No, just the biggest
pushover. "I gotta
run now. I'm actually supposed to be working. See you Friday, Phil."
Kathleen snapped her cell phone
closed and mentally kicked herself. She should not have done that. Connie would
be furious with her, and rightly so. Hadn't she called Connie just yesterday to
swear up one side and down the other that she could be counted on every Friday
night for the summer?
A knock on the car window
startled Kathleen. It was Harry, smiling broadly and holding a plate with a
gargantuan piece of pizza spilling over its edges. Kathleen sheepishly rolled
down the window.
"Look Kathleen, I know you
have a very busy social life and need to keep your string of boyfriends happy,
but your pizza's getting cold," he said, handing her the plate.
She waved him off and rolled up
the window. She hopped out of the car and took the proffered plate.
"It wasn't anything like
that at all," she said airily. "I just wanted to tell Daddy when I
thought I'd be home tonight."
Harry gave Kathleen a sideways
glance as they walked up the steps of the office. She knew that he knew she
didn't need to barricade herself in her car during their dinner break to call
her father on her cell phone.
Kathleen tossed her hair and tried to feel like a worldly sophisticate. Instead, all she really felt was the slippery slope getting increasingly slick. How on Earth was she going to explain to Harry why she could only stay at the Riverdale B&G Club for an hour on Friday night? She didn't know what she dreaded most, the lecture he was sure to give or the look in his eyes when he gave it.
Kathleen should have been having
fun. It was Thursday night, and she and Harry were sitting cross-legged on his
deck, overlooking a fast mountain stream, sharing a pizza, and battling
mosquitoes. When he wasn't reliving the glory moments of the K-B-K Trojans'
opening game, which they had won earlier that evening, Kathleen was trying to
teach Harry how to fold cranes. For a man with a workshop full of power tools,
Harry was curiously inept at origami and kept on folding the bird so that it
ended up being but a sad mutation of the majestic crane that lives so vividly
in myth and legend.
If he hadn't seemed so
frustrated by his fruitless attempts, Kathleen would have suspected him of
toying with her. In fact, she had checked his eyes several times for telltale
signs of twinkling, but saw nothing there but dogged determination. He sat
across from her surrounded by a growing pile of crumpled cranes, while she took
square after square of paper and, between bites of pizza, repeatedly showed him
the sequence of folds.
It should have been a good week.
Harry, Jack, and Kathleen had worked until midnight on both Monday and Tuesday.
Wednesday night, after the rest of the K B K crew had gone home, Kathleen had
plotted out the final drawings for the Heidelberg Project and Harry had stamped
them. Jack delivered them Thursday morning, and the project was finished. Harry
sent Kathleen a virtual bouquet Thursday afternoon. She printed it out and
pinned it to her cubicle wall. She had never been on a winning team before, and
she looked upon her cyber violets as if they were a trophy.
It should have been a good week,
but it wasn't. Despite all the good vibes from the Kinsley brothers, Kathleen
knew that she was living on borrowed time.
And now, Kathleen should have
been having fun, but she wasn't. All she really wanted to do was bask in the
afterglow of a finished project and an injury-free softball game, but her
conscience keep pricking at her, needling her, ruining any enjoyment she might
have felt. All she really wanted to do was to simply sit back and enjoy the
perfect serenity of Harry's deck on a summer evening. Harry's house, a massive
log cabin, was anchored to a granite outcropping over the St. Dupre River. Up
river from the house were the ruins of Kenwood Abbey, a stone church built by Jesuit
missionaries who had invaded the Rockies almost two hundred years earlier in
search of souls to save.
Kathleen loved to wander through
the abbey, overgrown with grass and flowers and frequented by deer and elk.
Once, two years ago, during the annual K B K picnic she had wandered away from
the crowd playing horseshoes and fishing and had surprised a herd of bighorn
sheep grazing amongst the stones of the fallen nave. Kathleen and the sheep had
watched each other solemnly until the sheep grew bored and wandered back up the
mountain, leaving Kathleen to daydream about the men who had built the church.
She respected the fortitude and conviction it required to gather river rock and
build a temple so far from civilization.
Harry had bought the abbey and a
good ten acres of mountain surrounding it and there had built his house. He
joked that he would never be done building it--there would always be something
to add or redo or alter. To Kathleen it seemed perfect as it was. Solid and
sturdy under winter snow, and cool and serene in summer heat. Invitations to
Kenwood were few and far between, with Harry preferring to meet most people on
their turf rather than inviting them onto his own. The company picnic was the
sole exception--then, it seemed, most of Juniper Hills found a way to be
included in the invitation and Kenwood was overrun with townies.
Kathleen had been pleased when
Harry had invited her up to Kenwood after the game. "I need to get a jump
start on this crane business," he had joked. She had topped a pizza with
herbs and tomatoes from his kitchen garden and baked it while Harry fed his dog
and refilled the bird feeders that fringed the deck overlooking the river. Now
they were sharing a soft summer evening, listening to the river below and
watching the last rays of sun fade behind the black hunk of Ruby Mountain, the
hill that graced Harry's western view. But Kathleen wasn't happy. Harry was
pleasant and Kenwood was enchanting, but Kathleen's guilty conscience made her
squirm uncomfortably until head down, focusing on the paper she was folding,
Kathleen suddenly found herself squealing as she felt something cold and moist
graze the nape of her neck. She scrambled to her feet, knocking over her
iced-tea.
"It's a bat. It's a
bat," she shrieked, whacking the back of her neck with both hands and
dancing up and down.
The one aspect of Kenwood that
Kathleen hadn't learned to love were the bats that came out at twilight. They
never failed to make her uneasy, despite the fact that they ate pounds of
mosquitoes. Nothing Harry said could make her get over her irrational fear of
them.
"Down, girl. Down,
Belle," Harry growled lovingly at his juvenile spaniel, the culprit who
had decided to kiss Kathleen while trying to steal a bite of her pizza.
"You're a naughty girl, now
go lie down," he scolded, and then he laughed outright when he saw
Kathleen's horrified face. "Not you, Kathleen, you're a very good girl,
although a mess at the moment." He grabbed a napkin, dipped it in a glass
of water, and was about to dab Kathleen's shirt where her iced-tea and pizza
had overturned on her, leaving splotchy stains.
Kathleen's fingers quickly
closed around his in a death grip.
"I can clean myself up,
thank you," she said testily, refusing to meet his eye as he rougishly
relinquished the napkin to her and shrugged good naturedly.
"If I'm a mess, it's
because your dog doesn't mind..." Kathleen started to say in a shaky voice
as she rubbed the front of her jersey, futilely trying to get the stains out.
Confusion reigned. She was vastly relieved that she hadn't been nuzzled by a
bat, but horribly embarrassed that she had made herself a complete mess in
trying to escape from a simple dog kiss. Worst of all, she was acutely aware of
the fact that the thought of Harry cleaning her up with a damp napkin sent
shock waves up and down her nerve endings. His reaction had been innocent
enough---she knew that Harry was the type of person who fixed things and since
she had spilled on herself, he was simply trying to put her to rights. It was her
reaction to the situation that kept her cheeks hot.
"She just loves pizza
almost as much as she loves you," Harry said, his eyes laughing, as if he
read and perfectly understood her disordered state.
"Distracting me with kisses
in order to steal my pizza is not a sign of affection."
"Oh, you'd be surprised at
all the dastardly actions that are really signs of affection."
Kathleen stopped dabbing and
glared at Harry, whose broad smile only irritated her more. Drat the man. He
did seem to enjoy seeing her uncomfortable. She threw the damp napkin on the
table in disgust, and sank onto a deck chair.
Harry placidly picked up another
square of origami paper and started folding it. Kathleen leaned her head
against the smooth wood of the Adirondack chair and eyed Belle, who sat panting
in the corner to which she had been banished. Belle took Kathleen's eye contact
as an overture to make up and cocked her head and emitted a little half-whine,
half-yelp.
"She's a positive flirt,
Harry. Look, I think she's batting her eyelashes at me. As if that will
work."
"Maybe she thinks she's
found a kindred spirit."
"Bite your tongue. Are you
suggesting that Belle and I are somehow on the same plane? I suppose you think
that I bat my eyelashes and flirt my way out of trouble just like your
miserable beast..."
Harry wisely ignored Kathleen's
questions and instead held out his latest creation for her inspection.
"Look, I think I did
it."
Harry had indeed completed his
first successful crane, and Kathleen was so pleased that she forgot to resist
being labeled as flirtatious as a spaniel. Instead, they both started folding
another round.
Yes, Kathleen should have been
having fun. And she would have been if she hadn't known that eventually Harry
would discover that she wasn't going to be at the Riverdale B&G Club the
following night. She hadn't yet told him that she had made a date with Phil Van
Demeer. She hadn't yet confessed that she would be letting down Connie and the
girls because Friday was the only night that week that Phil was free. She
hadn't even called Connie to tell her that she wouldn't be there. She hadn't
called because she wanted to find a substitute and thereby lessen the problem
she was creating, but none of her friends had been available to teach salsa dancing
and crane folding to hard-up kids. Kathleen was running out of time, and she
knew that the longer she waited, the worse the blowup would be.
On top of it all, Harry had been
such a sweetheart all week. He hadn't tried to hide the fact that he was grateful
for her help on the Heidelberg Project. And he had been an extremely good sport
about the blasted cranes and her idea to motivate the kids to raise money for a
grassy playground by folding a thousand paper birds. And now she was going to
let him down. She was going to validate every mean thing that he'd ever said
about her or thought about her, and she didn't know what to do about it.
Harry folded another crane and
dropped it in her lap.
"What's wrong, Kath? Didn't
I do it right," he asked when she didn't say anything but held it up and
looked at in the fading light. She felt her eyes fill with tears. Drat the
man, already.
"It's perfect, Harry."
She handed it back, hoping he wouldn't notice her quivering lip. "But
then, everything you do ends up perfect," she added with a sigh. Her
stomach was churning, making her light-headed. Go on. If you're going to be
a rat, at least be an honest one.
"Harry, I need to tell you
something..." She looked down to where her hands were clenched, pressing
her fingernails into her palm.
Harry sat quietly waiting,
watching her face. He cleared his voice and was about to speak when Kathleen
heard her cell phone ringing from inside her purse on his kitchen counter.
"It's either Dad or
Colleen," Kathleen said thankfully, breaking away from Harry and hurrying
to answer the phone. It was Phil. Kathleen walked into Harry's living room,
putting as much distance between herself and Harry while she talked on the
phone. Phil had to leave early for New York, tomorrow morning instead of
Saturday and so had to break their date for the next evening. Kathleen tried to
sound disappointed, but she was so relieved that she was afraid he might
notice. He said he would call her when he got back from New York.
"Safe trip," she
whispered. And then she hung up. Thank you. I will never ever get myself
into a jam like that again. I promise.
Kathleen stowed her phone in her
purse and practically skipped back out onto the deck. Harry was playing with
Belle, but tossed Kathleen Belle's Frisbee when he saw her. Kathleen missed the
Frisbee, of course, but gave Harry the biggest, happiest smile she had and bent
down and air-kissed Belle's upturned nose.
"Your dad or Colleen?"
Harry asked.
Kathleen caught herself before
she took the easy way out and lied, and simply said, "An angel of
mercy."
"Are you sure?"
To Kathleen's puzzled look, he
replied, "There are other kinds of angels too, you know."
"Don't get spooky on me,
Harry. It's bad enough that you've got bats..."
"Bats are good to have
around..."
And so Kathleen and Harry began
yet another round regarding the merits of the much-maligned bat species. They
managed to fold several more cranes each. Belle finished Kathleen's pizza and
kissed her thoroughly by way of saying thanks.
Saturday morning Kathleen woke
up to the harsh jangle of a ringing phone. It was Harry.
"I didn't wake you, did
I?"
"Of course not, it's ... um
... where's the clock..."
"Nine-ten, Kathleen. It's
nine-ten. The day's half over already. You were still sleeping, weren't
you?"
She hated it when he grinned
over the phone. "Is there something I can help you with?" she asked
through pursed lips.
"I was talking to Jack this
morning and he's feeling guilty about not being around much over the past
couple of weeks because we've been working late and he wants to take Colleen
out for a nice, romantic dinner, without the kids..."
"And they asked you to ask
me to babysit?"
"No, it's just that Jack
isn't going to use his ticket tonight after all, and Colleen thought you might
like to go instead."
"With you?" A pause.
"Tonight?" A longer pause. "Did you lose your little black
book?"
"Actually I've memorized
all the numbers I need out of it. Look Kathleen, much as I love this banter,
Jack's ticket is available and Colleen thought you might like to go. This is
the first Saturday I haven't had to work in a month and I'd like to go fishing
before it gets too hot instead of wasting my time playing twenty questions with
you."
"You needn't get huffy.
Okay, I'll go. I imagine this will be a mind-broadening experience
anyway..."
"Fine, then. I'll pick you
up at seven and we can get some dinner before hand."
"Why don't we just eat
there?"
"Well, I need more dinner
than the snacks they'll serve."
"But you're always raving
about how great the food is..."
"Then I
exaggerated..."
"You? Exaggerate? That's a
first."
"Will you be ready at
seven?"
"Yes. I promise I'll be
ready at seven."
A long pause.
"What are you going to
wear?"
"Oh for God's sake, Harry,
what does it matter what I wear? I'll probably just get beer spilled all over
me and whatever I wear will end up ruined."
"Does that happen to you a
lot?"
She could tell he was grinning
again.
"Oh, put a sock in it. Now
go fishing and leave me alone."
"Sweet dreams, Kath."
Kathleen hung up the phone with
slightly more force than was necessary. Of course she was not going to go back
to sleep at nine-ten in the morning. The nerve of the man, she thought
laying back and staring at her ceiling. Still, going to a Rockies game might be
fun.
Kathleen smiled -- what a sweet
brother-in-law she had. It was so like Jack to decide that the best gift he
could give his wife was to not go to a ball game that night. Colleen would be
so pleased -- the early stages of a pregnancy had never been easy for her and
Kathleen could tell that her sister was already feeling peaked. But why would
Colleen think that Kathleen would like going to the game? Harry would have
found a more appreciative companion in Rob Haskins or Rob Martin or even Maggie
Obermann. Oh well, with Phil out of town she might as well get a major league
baseball game under her belt. One was sure to be enough!
Besides, Harry was surprisingly
fun to be around these days. Just last night they had had a great time at the
Riverdale B&G Club. True to his promise, he had taught his baseball team
and Maggie's karate class how to fold cranes while Kathleen taught her
arts-and-crafts girls how to salsa dance. Harry, of course, had felt the need
to make a competition out of it and so his baseball team was now ten cranes
ahead of her girls. Kathleen tried to point out that they still had more than
eight hundred cranes left to make together, but Harry waved her off and somehow
the crane-folding dissolved into an all-club dance party in the gym. Kathleen
smiled to herself, remembering Harry dancing to Wimoweh and trying to
hit the high notes, causing the kids to double over with laughter. Later, in
the car on the way home, Harry had quietly told Kathleen that Connie was
thrilled with the energy she was bringing to the center. Glowing with pleasure
at his praise, she told him her idea for a fundraiser.
"Folding cranes helps the
kids focus, but we still need to come up with cash for the playground,"
she had stated as a matter of fact. "I can organize a silent auction at
the country club to raise the money. I am an excellent organizer, and lots of
people will pay major money for autographed cookbooks and that kind of thing,
especially if they get to write it off. You tell me how much money we need, and
I'll raise it."
Harry told her he would have a
figure for her by Monday, but how about if they held the auction at Kenwood and
made it a party as well. Lettie Bridges and Gail Hawkins had been badgering him
to host a real party instead of just the free-form annual picnics he held every
year. Then Harry reminded Kathleen that she was going away to grad school in
August--was six weeks really enough time to organize and hold the auction?
Kathleen's heart sank. She had been so caught up in the idea that she had
forgotten that her time in Juniper Hills and at the Riverdale Club and even at
K-B-K was so limited. And then she rallied. Of course, she had enough time. She
reminded Harry that he wasn't the only one who performed under pressure. They
would have the auction the third weekend in August, she declared. But then he
reminded her that most of K-B-K would be heading off to southern Colorado for
the company's annual rock climbing trip that week.
"So we'll have the auction
the second weekend in August, and you can take off on Monday."
And so it was decided. Kathleen
would organize a silent-auction at Harry's mountain retreat, and Harry was not
to criticize or in any way interfere with her plans. He would be the host, foot
the bill for the spread, smile nicely at all of Kathleen's country-club
friends, and try to keep his dog from slobbering on their guests.
Saturday evening, Kathleen stepped out of the shower to hear the doorbell
ringing. She quickly wrapped a towel around her head and another around her
body, and peeked out the curtained window to see Harry's black Porsche parked
in front of the house. The Porsche? He never drives the Porsche.
Followed quickly by...It can't be seven already! It wasn't. Kathleen
checked the clock and then cracked open her door in time to hear her father
letting Harry in.
Kathleen quickly pulled on a
pair of denim shorts and a black tank top, tied her wet hair back with the
purple and black Rockies scrunchy that Jack had put in her stocking two
Christmases ago, pinched her cheeks and declared herself ready for her first
major league game.
She walked downstairs to find
Harry looking like a centerfold from GQ.
They stared at each other for
several seconds before Harry started to laugh.
"Good thing I thought to
pick you up half an hour early," he chortled. "Just where do you
think you're going dressed like that?"
"To a Rockies game. You
invited me to a Rockies game," Kathleen almost shouted, her blood pressure
rising with every passing second and her cheeks reddening as Harry walked
entirely around her, inspecting every inch of her casually-clad body.
"I invited you to the Civic
Center opening, Kath. Now go and put on something pretty, and make it
snappy."
"I don't wear snappy
clothing, thank you. And why didn't you tell me you had tickets to the gala?
I've been crazy to go, and now I don't even have a new dress and my nails are
chipped."
"You know I bought tickets
for the gala for me and Jack to hobnob with clients. Why on earth would I waste
Rockies tickets on you? Besides Maggie and Bob are using them."
"Maggie Obermann and Bob
Martin?"
"Do you know another Maggie
and Bob?"
"Why does she want to hang
out with Bob? He's always in such a bad mood..."
"Just around you. Now go
and get dressed. We have dinner reservations for seven-fifteen."
"I have nothing to
wear."
"You have a closet full of
clothes. Wear that black dress you wore to Jack and Colleen's anniversary
party."
She glared at him. "You
know I wore it last weekend. It's still at the cleaners."
"It takes a week to clean
that dress? There's so little material that I would think it wouldn't take more
than ten minutes."
In the end, Kathleen wore her
royal blue silk sheath. Harry knocked discreetly on her door at five minutes
after seven. She opened it with her toe and instructed him to make himself
useful by fastening her diamond choker for her. He said he was hers to command.
They left for dinner.
Kathleen was as happy as a
beautiful twenty-two year old with a gorgeous man on her arm could be. Of
course, she had no idea that Harry was, in fact, gorgeous. He was still barely
more than the obnoxious surrogate brother who scolded her and praised her,
teased her and flirted with her. She had no idea until she saw women's heads
turning, first at the upscale restaurant where he took her to dinner, and later
at the gala itself. Kathleen, woman that she was, walked a little lighter,
laughed a little louder, and clung to his arm just a shade more than she would
have had she not noticed the female sharks circling.
And then she spied Dorie and
Mike Eastman. They were all the way across the gallery, chatting with Mike's
lawyer friends and Dorie's ballet patrons, sipping wine and appreciating the
artwork that graced Boulder's new Civic Center. Kathleen steered Harry in the
general direction of Dorie and Mike.
"Kathleen, you look
fabulous," were the first words out of Dorie's mouth when she spied her
best friend. "Harry, you are too sweet, you brought Kathleen just because
you knew how much she wanted to come." She turned back to Kathleen,
"And you thought he was taking you to some old ball game."
Harry nodded benignly to Dorie
and shook hands with Mike and introduced the Rockies home stand into the
conversation because he really didn't want his date with Kathleen to be discussed
by Dorie any further.
Dorie was undaunted.
"Kathleen honey, I am so sorry about Friday night."
Harry paused in his conversation
with Mike, as if waiting for Kathleen's response. But Kathleen discreetly shook
her head at Dorie and bit her lip, praying that her dearest friend would
please, please keep her mouth shut.
Dorie didn't pick up on
Kathleen's non-verbals. "I was so mad at Phil for standing you up. Matthew
Dixon says 'jump,' and Phil says 'how high.' A little ambition is good, but, in
my opinion, he didn't need to go off to New York a day early. Just didn't want
to say 'no' to Matthew, and so broke a date with the prettiest girl in Juniper
Hills..."
Kathleen died inside a thousand
times during Dorie's soliloquy. She didn't dare look at Harry's face, but
mid-way through her friend's speech she noticed that he let go of her hand,
saying "Excuse me, Kathleen. I need to see that man about..." and he
was gone, across the gallery, and out the door of the Civic Center into the
night.
Watching him walk away from her,
Kathleen couldn't remember ever feeling worse than she felt at that very
moment. Her first impulse was to slap Dorie, but it wasn't Dorie's fault that
Harry would now think of her as lower than a garden slug. It was her own fault.
She followed him instinctively,
out into the night. Glancing wildly around, she tried to see where he had gone
but was still blinded by the glare from the gala. Then she saw a familiar
shape, leaning over the railing, looking out across the man-made lake that fronted
the Civic Center.
Kathleen stood a few feet from
Harry and tried to find her voice. She felt her eyes well up. She walked over
to him and laid a hand on his back. He shrugged her off. Her voice bravely
stepped up to the plate, and she clenched and flexed and clenched the empty
hand he had rejected.
"I'm sorry."
"When were you planning on
telling Connie that you weren't going to show up? Or were you even going to
bother to tell her?" He continued to stare at the lake, his hands gripping
the railing as he spoke evenly.
"I was trying to find a
substitute when..."
He turned and looked at her. His
eyes were cold and his mouth was a thin, hard line. "Let me guess, when he
called you Thursday night at Kenwood to cancel?"
"Yes."
Harry turned away from Kathleen
and resumed staring into the black void that was the lake. Kathleen could hear
ducks calling to each other in the night, and an occasional splash punctuated
the soft summer air.
"Maggie will do the auction
with me," Harry finally said. "Great idea, though."
His sarcasm cut her. "Don't
you dare take that away from me," she said, her voice rising. "It was
my idea and I'll do it."
"Unless Phil wants a
playmate the night of the auction. You think I'd let you let Connie and the
kids down?"
"You're just mad because
you don't like Phil."
"I'm just mad because ...
oh God, Kathleen. You made a promise. You told Connie and those little girls
you would be there for them..."
"And I was. I was there for
them."
"You wouldn't have been if
Phil hadn't cancelled on you."
"You don't know that. You
don't know that I would've let them down. You always want to think the worst of
me," she concluded with a sob.
The sob brought his arms around
her, instinctively. He had never hesitated to embrace her when she needed
comfort, and he didn't now. He kissed her hair and held her next to his heart
and let her bury herself in the soft, rich folds of his tuxedo. When her tears
were spent, she pulled away and looked into his eyes soberly.
"I know you don't like
Phil," she said quietly, "but I want to fall in love with him so
much. Can you understand what he could mean to me? He's everything I've ever
wanted and I've been so afraid that I'd never really fall in love, and then he
came along. And he's perfect." She smiled through her tears, and
sheepishly took the handkerchief he offered and dried her eyes and blew her
nose.
He started to turn back toward
the lake, but on an impulse, she stayed his shoulder, then reached up and
gently stroked his cheek. He closed his eyes for an instant and then covered
her hand with his own, ending her caress so that she couldn't feel his jaw
tighten as she went on, "Harry, I know you're my friend and I'm asking you
to trust and respect my judgment. Phil's really awfully nice, and he listens to
me and treats me like I'm the most wonderful woman in the world. That's all
I've ever really wanted. He's the one, Harry. I really think we're right for
each other."
As she spoke she felt stronger
and stood straighter, and now looked Harry full in the eye.
"I know I was wrong to make
a date for Friday night when I had already committed all my Friday nights this
summer to Connie and the Club. I was wrong, and I'm sorry, and I won't do it
again. Please, don't me mad at me anymore. I couldn't bear it if you were mad
at me for keeps."
Harry pulled her to him once
again and kissed her forehead, and then hugged her for a long time. Finally,
when he had banished the faraway look in his eyes to a place from which it
couldn't venture forth again and felt sufficiently in control of himself, he
stepped back, held Kathleen's sweet, young face in his hands and told her that
he only ever wanted the best for her. If she thought Phil was the best, then
she should have him.
Kathleen and the rest of K-B-K's
employees spent most Sunday afternoons at Colleen and Jack's rambling house.
Situated in the heart of old town Juniper Hills, the house was part of the
original Kinsley homestead, remodeled and added onto until Kathleen was sure
that all that remained of the original was the kitchen pantry off the second
garage. Nevertheless, it had a huge lawn, front and back, and sported a tennis
court, horseshoe pit, and basketball court.
Kathleen usually went over after
lunch on Sundays to play with the children and to help Colleen get dinner
organized for whomever happened to show up. The afternoon after the gala found
Kathleen idling on the deck, chatting with Jack while Colleen took a
much-needed nap. She felt a vague sense of displeasure that Harry was nowhere
in sight. When Jack looked at her sharply after she asked where he was, her
displeasure deepened into discomfort. Apparently, Harry was otherwise engaged.
A little more coaxing and Jack confessed that Harry had begged off the usual
Sunday-with-the-gang routine because he needed to climb something.
"Climb something?"
"Climbing for Harry is sort
of like shopping is for you."
"Oh." Kathleen
processed this for a moment, then asked, "Something big?"
"Just Ruby."
"Well, at least he didn't
have to drive." Then she added, as if to reassure herself, "He's
climbed Ruby a bunch of times."
Jack eyed Kathleen again, then
nodded in agreement. Both he and Harry had climbed the mountain that rose out
of Harry's front yard at least once a year since Harry had bought the land and
built his house.
"So he won't be here this
afternoon?" Kathleen asked after awhile.
"I doubt it. Besides, Kath,
you're here and..."
Jack stopped himself.
"I'm here and ... what?"
"Harry called me last night
after he dropped you off..."
"Oh, Jack, we had the best
time. Really, we did. Thank you for letting me have your ticket."
"It was Harry's ticket,
don't forget."
"Oh, I know. But he had
been planning on having you go and when you couldn't and Colleen told him that
I had been wanting to go, he was nice enough to let me use the ticket."
Jack sighed and couldn't help
shaking his head at his sister-in-law, happily babbling away. "Think that
if it makes you feel better, if you prefer to keep your head in the sand and
not admit that my brother might actually do something with your happiness in
mind."
Kathleen shrugged lazily. She
tried to ignore the irritating wish that Harry was present if only to defend
himself, and managed to add that she believed Harry had only invited her so
that she would shield him from the women who considered him Juniper Hills' most
eligible bachelor.
"And did you?" Jack
asked with a little smile.
"Marsha Dixon and that new
lady doctor from the med center were all over him. I had to tell Marsha to fan
herself at one point."
Jack laughed out right at this,
but then soberly said, "Kath, you're not really going to fall for that
Phil guy are you?"
"I'm going to fall as hard
as I can, Jack. I want to have the most romantic summer any girl could imagine.
I've earned it. I really have. And Phil is perfect, simply perfect. You and
Harry are just going to have to lighten up and get over the fact that you can't
control every single aspect of my life."
On Wednesday evening, Phil returned to Juniper Hills. By Saturday night, he was
firmly entrenched as Kathleen's new boyfriend. By the Fourth of July, Kathleen
knew that she was having a summer to end all summers. She and Phil were
everywhere and did everything---parties, picnics, dancing, tennis, swimming. Even
on Friday nights, which Kathleen kept scrupulously sacred to the Riverdale
B&G Club, Phil would pick her up after she had fulfilled her promise to
Connie and they would go out on the town.
Occasionally, they ran into
Harry, whose disapproving glances sent Kathleen into exasperated annoyance with
the man. He wouldn't try to get to know Phil, wouldn't even talk sports with
him. He would just quietly remind Kathleen to call him if she needed anything,
anytime. A few times they ran into Joanna. And once they even encountered her
when she was with Matthew Dixon. It was then that Kathleen saw that Joanna had
done nothing to redeem herself in Phil's eyes. Kathleen herself couldn't
understand why a beautiful women like Joanna would hitch her star to a
flickering old flame like Matthew. Phil, on the other hand, was a real catch,
and Kathleen was the lucky girl who had caught him.
He was Prince Charming come to
life. Kathleen especially liked Phil's courtly manners. He wasn't forever
trying to talk her into bed the way other men did. He said he wanted to take
their relationship slowly and savor the romance. He kissed her lightly and held
her hand. He sent her flowers and whispered in her ear as they happily gossiped
about the goings-on in Juniper Hills.
One Sunday in late July it
seemed to Kathleen that not only all of K-B-K but all of Juniper Hills had
converged on her sister and brother-in-law's house for an impromptu town party.
The tennis court had a foursome battling it out, horseshoes were being flung
with wild abandon, volleyball was in full swing, and Kathleen's head was
hurting. She felt overwhelmed. Craving quiet shade, she wandered inside, only
to find Maggie and Lettie having a heart-to-heart in the living room.
Kathleen fled downstairs. She
shuddered at the thought of that conversation--Maggie waxing poetic on how to
train for mountain climbing in the Andes or some such place and Lettie going
off on llama tangents. Preserve me from Lettie's tangents, Kathleen
thought as she passed the video room, where the TV was softly glowing, left on
by one of the kids, no doubt.
"What's your hurry?"
came Harry's voice over the dull murmur of the TV.
His voice, soft and husky coming
up from the depths of the overstuffed couch, startled her.
Flustered, she instinctively
walked towards him, stammering, "Oh ... hi ... I didn't see you..."
He reached up and grabbed her
hand, pulling her into the couch beside him. She sat down awkwardly, so close
to him that she could feel the heat of his skin through his tee-shirt. The
black hairs on his legs tickled her smooth, bare knees. She flushed and
unconsciously lifted the hair off of her neck and fanned herself with her
collar.
"I want to show you
something," Harry said, leaning forward and turning up the TV which was
broadcasting a Colorado Rockies versus Chicago Cubs baseball game from Coors
Field in Denver. "Look at that batter."
He watched intently, she
tentatively. "See the way he holds his back elbow up high, and the bat is
way off his shoulder. See how he's circling it around, finding the groove, looking
for the sweet spot."
Kathleen looked at the batter
then Harry, her eyes wide in the blue glare of the big screen.
Harry continued, "Now watch
... watch ... he's coiling, tightening ... and, WHAM!" Harry hugged
Kathleen with his right arm and punched the air with his left. "What a
beauty! Come on ... come on ... rats." He slumped back as the ball was
caught, but seconds later he was leaning forward again as the next batter
stepped up to the plate. "Now here comes Rodriguez. Watch him, Kath. You
could do that..."
"I could do that?"
Kathleen smiled, raising her eyebrows as she watched the batter take a couple
of practice swings. "I don't think so..."
"You could swing like that.
You have a really pretty swing, but you don't wind up enough. Gad, he shouldn't
have swung at that one. No, really, I mean it, Kath, you could hit the ball
twice as far if you'd let physics help you. You fight nature too much. That's
why you hit those little dribblers. It's not that you can't, you just hold
back."
Kathleen started to stand up,
but Harry pulled her back down. "Come on, sit awhile. We haven't talked in
weeks."
She was surprised by the tone in
his voice. He'd have been all over her for whining if she had tried that on
him.
"You've been working so
much..." she said, trying to lob the blame for their estrangement back
into his court.
Harry stared at the screen,
"Prince Charming waiting for you upstairs?"
Kathleen bit back a retort, then
answered calmly, "Phil is upstairs, yes..."
"Don't you even want to
know the score?"
"I know the score
... oh, you mean of the ballgame?"
"It's tied. We win this
game, we're in first place. Then we've got momentum, and maybe we can see a
little post-season action."
"What inning?"
"Bottom of the
eighth."
"What's the count?"
"This is the pay-off
pitch."
Kathleen leaned forward. She
watched the Rockies batter foul away three more pitches before finally striking
out. Top of the ninth. The first Cubs batter got a single on the first pitch.
Harry groaned. Kathleen felt her stomach tighten. If he got to second, another
single would send him home and the Rockies would have to score two runs to win.
The pitcher was edgy, whipping around to first like a cat pawing at a mouse
hole, trying to keep the runner from getting too much of a lead. Finally, the
runner on first took off, and the pitcher rifled the ball to second, but not in
time. The Cubs had a man on second. No outs. The TV showed the Rockies dugout
where Russ Abernathy, the Rockies field manager, was staring at the field, his
face impassive but his eyes brilliant and alert. Kathleen thought he looked
like Harry did when Harry was marshalling the K-B-K employees to work extra
hours to finish a project ... and feel good about it.
"Now watch this, Kathleen.
Abernathy isn't going to pull a hot pitcher just because it's a tight game. He
lets his men do their jobs and doesn't just play percentages."
Abernathy's faith in his players
paid off as the next ball the pitcher threw was high and outside, causing the
batter to hit a line drive to right field where it was easily caught. The throw
from right field reached third base in time for Harry to recite along with the
TV commentator that the Rockies had executed "a beautifully turned twin
killing."
Two outs. The third came in the
form of a pop-up to short.
During the commercial break,
Harry recounted the game thus far. Seven to seven in Coors Field, aka homerun
heaven. The Cubs had almost exhausted their bullpen, but Abernathy had played
it close, knowing that the squirrelly mile-high air could eat up more pitchers
than he had. Now, it was bottom of the ninth and top of the lineup and the
bullpen was cocky.
The lead-off hitter was Antonio
Perez. Two for five, with a homerun in the second. A swing and a miss. Strike
one. He took the next two pitches, and then wound up and released a thunderbolt
worthy of the big guy. Homerun! Kathleen was on her feet. Harry was on his
feet. Kathleen jumped up and down, squealing, and threw her arms around Harry's
neck and spun him around in the joyful jubilation of ecstatic tension release.
It was just physics really, but Kathleen's arms remained around Harry's neck as
the spinning died. And then she looked into his eyes and stepped back, scared
at the love she saw there, the love she hadn't recognized until that moment but
had known was there all along. Her eyes felt heavy as he touched her shoulder.
"What are you doing,"
she breathed, her chest tight with tension again.
He tried to answer, but no words
came out. And then before his arms could circle her waist, her fingers were on
the nape of his neck and her lips were melting and her body was sinking under
the feather weight of his soft, warm kiss. And the roaring in her ears wasn't
from the crowd at Coors Field, and the tension in his body wasn't from the windup
for a pitch. And she wondered whether he would make love to her in the basement
of her sister's house, and she wondered whether their children's eyes would be
brown like his. And then abruptly, he stepped back away from her, and sat down
and stared at the TV screen for an instant before he picked up the remote and
clicked it off and buried his head in his hands.
Kathleen stood awkwardly,
wondering why their kiss had imploded. She fought to keep her stinging eyes
from overflowing. What did I do wrong this time? She wondered whether
she should sit beside him and put an arm around him and tell him that she loved
him, but she didn't.
Finally he stood up and ... please
don't apologize ... apologized, "I'm sorry, Kathleen. You told me it's
Phil you want. I'm sorry." His voice was hollow.
Why does this man always have
to ruin my life? Phil won't even kiss me like he means it, and here I was
wondering where Harry would make love to me. And now what?
Kathleen couldn't speak. She had
no idea what she should do. Every possible action seemed wrong. So she went
upstairs to where Phil was waiting, chatting with Colleen and Joanna and Jack
about something or other. She took his hand and sat down next to him and
wondered whether she could ever forgive him for not making her feel like Harry
did.
Later, when the party was
breaking up, Colleen pulled Kathleen to one side, "What's up, honey? You
seem so sad, all of a sudden."
"It's nothing, sis. It's
just ... nothing ever works out the way it's supposed to."
"You try too hard. Things
work out they way they work out."
Kathleen was seated in Phil's
convertible when he remembered that he had left his sunglasses inside. She
watched him stroll up the walk and then she felt Harry's hand on her arm--he
was kneeling by her door, still wearing the shell-shocked, dazed look of
before. "I'm sorry, Kathleen. We can't let this stop us from being
friends."
She turned and faced him full,
conscious that Phil was now bounding down the front steps, sunglasses in hand,
and said, between clenched teeth, "I'm sorry too, Harry. Sorry that you
stopped. Sorry that you..." She pulled her arm angrily inside and turned
to smile at Phil.
"So long, Harry," Phil
called as he rev'd the engine and took off.
Jack came up and stood beside
his brother as Phil's car sped off into the night. "Your timing's
off," he said.
Harry gave him a weak smile and headed for his own car.
©
2004 Copyright held by the author.