No Runs, No Hits, No Errors
Chapter 11
The short drive to Kathleen's
house was silent. Usually Phil liked to talk, relating stories from the office
and making funny observations on all and sundry in Juniper Hills. He had a
wicked sense of humor and never failed to elicit in Kathleen a guilty sense of
pleasure as he poked fun at her hometown and its inhabitants. But tonight he
was quiet. He asked Kathleen if she would turn on some music. She selected a CD
and then leaned her head back and let her mind whirl.
Life before graduation had been
so simple. Funny how a little piece of paper could change her perspective so
dramatically. Then, she had had a game plan. Daughter, sister, friend,
student--she had followed the recipe and had been blissfully happy in her tidy
world. Graduation had come upon her like a sudden summer squall. She turned
around and it was March, and she discovered that she had no plans for life
after college. Her playbook ended with graduation.
All her friends knew what they
wanted out of life. Some were going to law school, others to medical school or
business school, and some were doing interviews and hanging out at job fairs.
The adventurous were booking flights to places like Vietnam, Peru, and Alaska
for treks, tours, and explorations. In a panic, Kathleen applied for graduate
school and then talked herself into being excited about it.
But now, as Phil drove slowly
through the streets of Juniper Hills, Kathleen felt an overwhelming nostalgia
for the way her life used to be. Clean, neat, routine. Life had stopped being
routine the day she went to work for K B K Engineering. Truth be known, it had
stopped being altogether clean and neat then as well. There was something
sweaty and messy and almost scary about all those engineering jocks at K B K.
Even Harry, especially Harry, with his spreadsheets and crisp, white tee-shirts
was messy under his starched collars, sweaty under his aftershave, and scary
when he was intense. And he had been very, very intense when he had kissed her.
Kathleen closed her eyes, remembering. But he was the one who had stopped. She
had been willing to go wherever the kiss led them, but he had pulled out,
pressed the panic button, thrown the safety hatch.
Confusion may reign supreme in
Kathleen's brain, but she knew one thing for certain--she was absolutely
furious with Harry Kinsley. Either he was teasing her and toying with her in a
most ungentlemanly manner, or he was really and truly attracted to her but
didn't think she was worth winning from Phil. A kiss is just a kiss, but
Harry's kiss brought Kathleen's relationship with Phil into harsh relief,
revealing it for the sham it was. Of all the hours she had spent with Phil
during the past six weeks, she suddenly realized that she hardly knew him. It
was Gabe all over again, and the boyfriend before that, and the one before
that. She enjoyed their company but none of them touched her heart.
I have everything a woman
could want, except...
Abruptly, Phil stopped the car.
Kathleen woke up from her reverie to find that they were in the parking lot of
a little park not two blocks from her house.
Roosevelt Park was Kathleen's
favorite place in all of Juniper Hills. Often, she would walk down to read or
simply daydream in the rose-garden arbor laden with heavily-scented blossoms of
yellow, coral, cream, ruby, and a thousand shades of pink. Originally conceived
to honor World War II vets, the Daughters of Juniper Hills planted roses every
Memorial Day until the garden consumed the entire park, a whole city block
square of roses--bush, vine, climbing, tea, miniature, wild, and hybrid.
"Up for a walk?" Phil
asked.
"Okay." What else was
there to say?
They made their way to a bench,
situated near the archway that was a favorite for Juniper Hills weddings and
high-school graduation pictures. The night air was still and close; the heat of
the day hung heavy, not yet dissipated by wind and stars. Phil sat down, and
then reached for Kathleen's hand, pulling her down, as Harry had pulled her to
his side on the couch that afternoon.
"I have a huge favor to ask
of you."
She searched his face. Normally
he was so smooth. Debonair and suave, Phil sometimes seemed to Kathleen to be
playing a bit part in a 40's romantic comedy. Not the angst-filled lead, oddly
enough, Phil seemed more the sidekick chum of the leading man. Ready with a
drink and a joke and a pretty girl on his arm, but not a big part of the story
itself. Tonight, though, Phil seemed outside himself--less the part and more
the man.
"Okay..." Kathleen
said again.
"I can't begin to tell you
what you've meant to me this summer," Phil began. "It's been so hard
... for both of us. I've wanted to tell you how I felt, but I always knew that
you knew. Words didn't seem necessary. Kathleen--thank you, thank you, thank
you."
Kathleen looked at him,
surprised at his fervor, but willing to be thanked for being generous of spirit
and open-minded. He moved slightly towards her, and taking his movement as a
romantic gesture, she impulsively threw her arms around his neck, with the
vague idea that she might as well underscore the generosity he so valued in
her. But the affect was different from when she had similarly embraced Harry
after the Rockies glorious win that afternoon. The physics were different.
Maybe her arms slipped from Phil's neck like leaden weights because she wasn't
whirling. Maybe their embrace didn't end in a kiss because when their eyes met,
she didn't read love and longing in them, but only gratitude.
Before she could feel foolish,
Phil stood up and asked, "Can we go to my place?"
Maybe she hadn't read his eyes
right after all.
"Okay." A college
graduate and all I can say is 'Okay?'
In the six or so weeks since
Kathleen and Phil had begun seeing each other, she had been to his house only
once. They had been on their way to play tennis with the Eastmans and he had
realized that he had forgotten his racquet. They had swung by his place to pick
it up. Her first impression was that Phil didn't actually live there. It
reminded her of a hotel suite ... a
very nice hotel, but a hotel. Tasteful, art prints on the walls. Black and
chrome appliances that were never used. Inhabited, but not lived in.
They pulled up and parked and
went inside. Joanna Bridges was sitting on Phil's sofa, drinking lemon water
and painting her toenails. At the sight of her, Kathleen began to fervently
pray for a trap door to open beneath her feet so that she could be swallowed up
and not have to deal with whatever she had just 'okayed' to Phil.
Joanna looked up, first at Phil,
then at Kathleen, and then she gave Phil the dirtiest look Kathleen had ever
witnessed.
"What's she doing
here?"
"Kathleen knows what's
going on," Phil replied. "I figured we should work together and not
be at cross purposes anymore..."
Kathleen was clueless, but if
Phil thought she was on top of the situation, well, best to play along. She
managed to send a weak smile in Joanna's general direction.
I think that woman hates my
guts, Kathleen thought.
She was right.
She slid into a chair across
from the couch where Joanna was lounging. Phil fussed, trying to ensure that
Joanna was comfortable. She wasn't making it easy.
Phil disappeared into the
kitchen for drinks, and Joanna withdrew into sullen quietness, intent on
finishing her toes. Kathleen stretched her legs, then templed her fingers,
waiting expectantly, embarrassed to be there, awkwardly wondering what she
should do, sensibly saying nothing.
Finally, Phil returned from
kitchen, handed Kathleen an iced tea and Joanna another lemon water, and
settled into a corner of the couch and commenced massaging Joanna's feet.
Kathleen sipped her tea. She offered Phil a half-smile and wondered who would
speak first. Phil looked into Joanna's face. Joanna closed her eyes.
Just as Kathleen felt the
beginnings of a headache forming along the base of her neck where her muscles
were strung taut with tension, Joanna said, "I guess since she's told
everyone in town that I'm pregnant, we have no choice but to let her
help."
Kathleen had the grace to blush,
while Joanna continued, "It's a matter of days, maybe hours, before it all
blows up in our faces anyway." She turned to Phil with controlled
ferocity, "Why you ever told Dirk Gibson in the first place is beyond me.
I never thought this plan would work, but to make it dicier..." Her voice
trailed off, causing Phil to massage more vigorously than ever.
Confused though Kathleen was,
she had worked it out that Phil and Joanna were closet lovers. All well and
good, but if the look on Joanna's face was one of love, then Kathleen felt
truly sorry for Phil.
By the time Phil finished
telling Kathleen what she needed to know in order to help him and Joanna,
Kathleen didn't feel sorry for him anymore. Her stomach hurt and her head hurt,
and she felt drained of emotion and energy. She could scarcely believe that she
had ever even tried to be in love with him. She just wanted to get out of his
sterile townhouse and away from his hostile girlfriend and his disgusting
proposal. She just wanted to lie down in her peach bedroom, cool and quiet
under peach sheets, and forget about Phil and Joanna. Her nostrils flared, as
if she were smelling garbage.
"Well...what do you think
Kathleen?" Phil asked, finally dropping Joanna's feet and leaning forward,
anticipating her answer. "Will you help us out?"
Kathleen looked from Phil to
Joanna. No, No, No! Her mind screamed. Get away from these messed up
people! Be no part of this.
She opened her mouth, not quite
knowing the words her refusal would take, when her cell-phone rang. Relieved
that she could delay answering until she had composed herself, she clutched at
her purse, digging for the ringing phone.
"Hello," she yelped
into the phone.
"Kathleen? Kathleen, where
are you? Are you okay? Your dad's crazy with worry."
At the sound of Harry's voice,
Kathleen's heart leaped toward her throat.
"What's the matter with
Dad? Is he all right?"
"He's fine. Just worried
because you didn't call after you left Jack and Colleen's. Where are you?"
Kathleen paused. Harry was the
very last person on earth she wanted aware of her current predicament. The
pause lengthened.
"Are you with Phil,"
he asked in a low voice that made the dark warmth of his lips come upon her in
a memory so vivid that her eyes drooped. She caught herself before she spiraled
into a swoon. She forced herself to remember that he was the one who had
stopped kissing her.
"Yes," she answered.
"Are you at his
place?"
"Yes."
Harry paused. He was standing in
the Kavenaugh's kitchen. Kathleen's father was watching him and listening. A
bouquet of gladioli and foxglove that he had brought for Kathleen was resting
on the kitchen counter, with bits and pieces of soggy paper towel still
clinging to the stems, giving the bouquet a pitiful, bedraggled look. Harry
suddenly felt angry with Kathleen. Angry that she insisted on wasting her time
and wasting her life on people as shallow and callous as Phil Van Demeer. He
was angry that she was at Phil's house after what had happened between them in
his brother's basement. Angry that she hadn't been waiting on her front porch,
ready to throw her arms around him again. Ready to give him all her love, with
no questions and no discussions. Ready to be his woman. He felt as if she had
betrayed him, and he felt stupid for feeling that way and angry with himself
for feeling stupid. And then he felt himself being pulled into a vortex of
swirling emotions, and he knew that he had to pull out and be rational and
calm. But he didn't pull out. He plunged into the vast dark sea below him,
letting self-pity and pride delude him into saying the three simple words he
knew were wrong and childish and hateful...
"In his bed?"
Kathleen waited a split second
before pressing the little red button on her phone, closing the call. It was no
way near as satisfying as slamming down a phone on a receiver, but the affect
on the other end was the same ... an empty dial tone that buzzed accusingly in
the offender's ear.
Kathleen stowed the phone in her
purse, her hands shaking with anger at Harry's presumption in checking up on
her as if she were his property. She could scarcely believe her ears as she
heard herself telling Phil and Joanna, "Okay. I'll do this for you two. I
think it's wrong and it's stupid and it won't work. But I'll do it."
Phil leapt to his feet and
hugged Kathleen hard. She pushed him away. "Save it for later." Then
she turned to Joanna, "And you clear out of here and don't come back until
it's over. If I'm helping you guys, then you're to stay absolutely as far from
Phil as possible. 'No pain, no gain'--remember?"
Joanna rose from the couch
languidly. She casually packed her manicure set, and then gave Phil a long,
sensual kiss that seemed to incorporate every last one of his body parts. She
finished the kiss and then moved her hands slowly down the length of his body,
either making a memory for later or marking her territory, Kathleen didn't know
which. Then she slipped around inside his arms, facing Kathleen.
After a long, slow smile and a murmured "Thanks, Kathleen, you're a peach. See you at practice in the morning," Joanna walked out the door, leaving Phil to deal with Kathleen.
Dorie Eastman was livid. In the
seven years that she had known Kathleen Kavenaugh she had often wanted to take
her friend's slender shoulders and shake some sense into the girl. But she didn't.
She had never even yelled at her. Not when she had chickened out of auditioning
for The Nutcracker, not when she had dropped all of her
advanced-placement classes in high school because they required too much
homework, not even when she had sold her potter's wheel because she didn't like
getting clay under her fingernails. But after Kathleen finished describing what
she had promised to do for Phil Van Demeer and Joanna Bridges, Dorie finally
yelled.
"Is the word 'No' not in
your vocabulary? Couldn't you just say 'No.' Come on try, say 'No.' 'No, I
can't do that.' 'No, it's wrong.' 'No, I think you're scum and I won't be party
to this.'"
Kathleen's eyes teared up and
her lower lip quivered, and her neck really, really hurt.
"Don't yell at me, Dorie.
Please, don't yell."
Dorie softened, exasperated but
loathe to really wound her friend.
"So let me get this
straight. You're supposed to pretend to be Phil's girlfriend while Joanna
continues on as Matthew Dixon's mistress until Phil fixes Joanna's contract
with Campbell Modeling and she can leave them without getting sued and can
marry Phil and they can open their own modeling agency."
"That's it, pretty much.
And you promised you wouldn't tell Mike."
"I know, I know. But that
was only to get you to tell me why you showed up here crying your eyes out.
It's a good thing Mike's on a business trip, but Kathleen, I've never kept a
secret from him." Dorie's eyes grew anxious. "And this is a big one,
that affects the firm. Matthew is Mike's boss. I don't know, Kathleen, I just
don't know." She clasped her hands nervously.
"It's only for a couple of
days. Phil has to fix Joanna's contract before Matthew finds out she's
pregnant. When he does, he'll know that the baby can't be his and that Joanna's
been two-timing him. And if she's not out of Campbell before Matthew finds out,
her career is over."
"So why did he tell Dirk
Gibson that Joanna is preggers if it's such a big secret?"
Kathleen rolled her eyes,
"Oh, I don't know...testosterone?"
It was a complicated story that
Kathleen had tried to repeat to Dorie, and she wasn't quite sure she had gotten
all the details right herself. Matthew Dixon had met Joanna Bridges in
Manhattan three or four years ago. Dixon, Dabney, and Colfax had just landed
Campbell Modeling as a client, and Matthew had proposed that the firm review
all the contracts Campbell had with their stable of models. Joanna was one of
the newer models, hungry for work and notoriety, fresh out of college and not
fully aware that she had the right stuff to go to the top of the modeling
world. As Hick Campbell had told Matthew Dixon over a couple of martinis,
Joanna Bridges was supermodel material and he wanted to make sure that Joanna
never left the padded silken confines of the Campbell agency. They would treat
her well and pay her well, but they wanted her bound inextricably to them. If
Matthew did what Hick paid him the big bucks to do, then they could all ride
Joanna's star when she went global.
Matthew Dixon did what needed to
be done. He wined her and dined her, eased her homesickness with funny stories
and escorted her to galas and openings. He showed her the ropes and made her
feel safe and looked after. Once he had seduced her into signing a no-walk
contract, it was a short step to seducing her into his bed. Rumors of the
relationship slowly filtered back to Juniper Hills, but Matthew's wife,
unwilling to unhitch her own wagon from Matthew's, turned a blind eye. As long
as Joanna didn't compromise her position in Juniper Hills, Evelyn Dixon wasn't
going to rock the boat.
The boat started rocking,
however, the day Matthew Dixon hired Phil Van Demeer away from
Battison-Everett, the Manhattan firm in which he was the hot new up-and-comer.
Matthew, pleased with himself for outwitting J.W. Battison, took his trophy
over to Campbell to show him off to Hick Campbell and the girls. Everyone had a
good time and the party moved to Hick's yacht where the good times continued to
roll along until a storm blew up. Joanna Bridges was almost blown overboard in
the gale force winds. Would have been, if Phil hadn't grabbed her in time and
tied a lifeline around her waist. After that, Matthew Dixon didn't have a
chance. But Phil and Joanna were both smart enough to keep their passion under
wraps.
When Phil explained to Joanna
that her contract stipulated that she could never model with any agency but
Campbell and they could sue her for every penny they had ever paid her if she
did, she told Phil she would marry him without a prenup if he could figure out
a way to break the contract. It took him awhile, but he did. But, he told
Kathleen, he needed a little more time to get all the paperwork in order so
that he could claim that Joanna Bridges had signed the contract under physical
and emotional duress. Matthew Dixon would be disbarred, of course, but Joanna
and Phil would be free.
"So, why did you say you
would go along with this stupid plan? And it is stupid." Dorie asked.
"It's not like you would want to see Matthew disbarred. You went to school
with his daughter, for God's sake. You don't believe the duress claim,
do?"
"No. I think it's just the
only thing Phil could come up with..." Kathleen bit her lip. She honestly
didn't know why she had agreed to help out Phil except that Harry disliked him
so much and she was mad at Harry. Mad because she had discovered that afternoon
that she really liked the way he kissed her and she had no idea what to do with
that information other than to get mad at him for stopping so abruptly and
unromantically. He had let her leave with Phil, but then had called her up and
insinuated that she was sleeping around. Kathleen knew that pretending to be
Phil's girlfriend would drive Harry crazy, and that was worth something.
It didn't occur to Kathleen that
she wasn't mourning the loss of Phil. Here was the man she had decided was the
one blithely telling her that he was engaged to someone else, and Kathleen
hadn't noticed that she felt no disappointment and harbored no ill will. She
merely shrugged it off, believing Phil must have drunk some Love Potion Number
Nine to actually be in love with the witch! She was focused on how awful Harry
would feel when he saw that she apparently wasn't abandoning Phil for him.
Serve him right for not taking her seriously.
Dorie looked at her grimly.
"Look, if I'm going to keep a secret from Mike, you're going to have to
tell me why."
"Because Harry thinks I'm
nothing but a pretty piece of fluff." The words were out of Kathleen's
mouth before she could stop them. She knew they weren't true, but it was the only
reason she could formulate to explain Harry's rejection.
"Welcome to the
club..."
Kathleen's eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean? You and Harry never went out...did you?" Since
Kathleen's return to Juniper Hills that summer she had experienced an awakening
that Harry was fairly good-looking ... that he was, in fact, extremely
attractive to the vast majority of the female population ... that women
routinely threw themselves at him. She just hadn't yet realized that he
actually caught any of them.
"Back when you were in high
school and I was new in town and teaching at the studio and still performing
when I could. It didn't last long--it never does with Harry, but man, he could
show a girl a good time."
Kathleen's eyes filled with
tears, "Well, he's not just going to kiss me and throw me away."
"He kissed you?"
Kathleen nodded.
"I'm surprised, actually. I
figured you were 'hands off.' I mean, he can't just blow you off the way he
does everyone else he goes out with."
"Well, I can promise you
one thing Dorie Eastman, Harry Kinsley is never, and I mean never, going to get
the chance to 'blow me off.' I am not going to be a notch in some guy's belt
buckle."
Kathleen didn't get home until
well after midnight. She poured herself a quick glass of milk, peeked in at her
sleeping father, and got ready for bed. She didn't notice the flowers on her
dresser until she was about to switch off her light.
They were gorgeous, glowing in a
corner of the room. She got up and went over to examine the bouquet. Here was
tangible proof that she was not just a pretty piece of fluff. At least her
father wouldn't let her down.
She touched the soft petals and
sighed as a solitary tear escaped her overfull eyes and ran down her cheek.
Much as she loved her father and appreciated his sweetness in filling her room
with the flowers she loved, she had to acknowledge how very lonely it was that
he was the only man who seemed able to love her wholly and understand her.
Finally settled between peach
sheets, Kathleen tried to let sleep come over her. The flowers had calmed her
down. It wouldn't hurt to play out the charade with Phil, despite what Dorie
had said. Besides, Matthew Dixon had been a beast to Joanna as well as to his
wife. Helping Joanna and Phil find some happiness couldn't be bad. What did she
have to lose? Harry wasn't interested in her beyond a little friendly groping.
He just didn't want Phil to have what he didn't have. Kathleen would have been
perfectly satisfied with her decision if she didn't remember Harry's kiss quite
so well. Pressing her cheek against her cool pillow, she felt light-headed
again remembering his warm, strong arms around her waist, stroking her back,
massaging her neck. Kathleen rubbed her arms, trying to forget how the hairs on
Harry's legs had tickled her skin so deliciously. She wondered grimly whom he
would pursue next. Connie Martinez had laughed when she mentioned the women
Harry had paraded through the Riverdale B&G Club. Kathleen had no intention
of being laughed at.
Monday morning dawned gray and
blustery. The residents of Juniper Hills dragged themselves out of bed, most
having slept poorly, to face their town disheveled by a summer storm. Shortly
after two in the morning, the wind had picked up, bringing with it driving rain
then hail.
At the first sound of the hail,
Kathleen leaped out of bed and ran downstairs and out onto the deck. The potted
flowers that she had planted and placed so carefully were already in tatters.
She dashed to the gardening shed and grabbed cardboard boxes and ran back to
the deck. She frantically covered as many of the pots as she could, returning
to the shed for more boxes. The hail beat down on her face and arms, drenching
and bruising her skin through her thin night shirt. She ran out of boxes before
she ran out of plants and finally had to give up as lost one whole side of the
deck. She flung open the back door and collapsed at the kitchen table, weeping
out of the sheer frustration of losing all that beauty. It was ten minutes to
three, and she was cold, wet, exhausted, and utterly depressed. By five minutes
to three she realized that her body was starting to shake and so she went back
upstairs. She went into the bathroom and stripped off her wet clothes and dried
herself, wrapping a towel around her head and cinching a robe around her waist.
She had done her best to save the garden, her mother's legacy. It was mostly
destroyed, but at least she had tried.
When she opened the door to her
room, she almost cried again when she saw the devastation she beheld there. She
had left her window open when she had gone to bed and foolishly hadn't stopped
to close it before running downstairs to save the garden. The wind and rain had
soaked the curtains, and everything in the room--the carpet, her bed, even her
dresser across the room from the window--was damp and splotched. Worse yet, the
storm had scattered the box of stationary that lay open on her desk and had
plastered sheets of lavender-scented writing paper on to every surface.
Kathleen sadly gathered up all the sheets and viciously smashed the wet, soggy
heap into a plastic garbage bag. Then she stripped the dresser of her treasures
and carefully dried it and them, placing the flowers in their vase on a towel
on her desk. She changed her sheets and blotted the water from her pictures,
wiping away her tears as she wiped the raindrops from the photo of her mother,
and set it back in its place of honor in the middle of her dresser. She put the
vase of flowers next to her mother's picture, then covered the floor with
towels. By three-thirty the storm was spent, and by three-forty Kathleen was
asleep once more, giving herself over to troubled dreams and restless tossing.
Kathleen considered the fact
that she got to practice at all Monday morning to be nothing short of heroic.
Sunday and its roller-coaster revelations had more than taken their toll, and
the infernal storm that had struck in the night seemed to mirror the turmoil
that had taken hold of Kathleen's head and heart. She awoke feeling as gray as
the blustery morning, and great was the temptation to simply mute the clock
radio and sleep until noon. Instead, she rolled over, gazed at her flowers, and
wearily sat up.
Driving to practice, she
shivered as she surveyed the havoc that the storm had wrought. It wasn't just
the unseasonably cool weather that lingered in the aftermath of the cold front,
but the storm had literally robbed Juniper Hills of summer. The Kavenaugh's
wasn't the only garden that was devastated. In fact, theirs had faired better
than most because of Kathleen's quick action to save it. The trees that lined
Juniper Hills' majestic avenues were stripped and the roads were green with
shorn leaves. The hail had long since melted, but except for the ghostly green
streets, it could have been November rather than July. Kathleen hoped she had a
sweatshirt in her trunk, or it was going to be a chilly practice. Which
reminded her that although she still hadn't a clue as to what to say to Harry
when she saw him, she knew the temperature of the shoulder she would present.
Harry had behaved abominably,
and she wasn't going to laugh it off or let him bully her into believing that
any of this mess was her fault. Maybe she should just resign from K B K so that
she wouldn't have to deal with him anymore. It was less than a month before she
left for graduate school anyway, and they would need to hire another temp for
the fall. Lindy still hadn't had the baby--two weeks overdue--and there was no
way Kathleen could stick around until Lindy was ready to come back. But even if
she quit K B K, there was still the kid's club and the benefit...at his house,
no less.
Kathleen had come to love
working with the Riverdale kids and had found enormous satisfaction in the
big-sister role she had carved out for herself with them. Besides, Connie
Martinez had told her just last Friday that she was the best volunteer she had
ever seen, "including Harry!" And the benefit? Kathleen was
determined to raise money for a grassy playground, and she wanted to do it her
way. They were her kids too now and she wasn't going to let them down.
So Kathleen girded herself. She
didn't want to laugh off the situation with Harry, but she had no choice. Chalk
up the kiss to one too many beers, and chalk up the rude phone call to
primitive alpha-male instincts. Even if a man didn't really want a particular
woman, Kathleen reasoned, men were just so almighty competitive that their
blood boiled if any man paid attention to a woman he thought of as part of his
herd, or pride, or team. And, Kathleen thought glumly, there was no question
that Harry was territorial when it came to her. Well, he'd just have to get
over himself. As far as Harry was concerned, Kathleen was still going out with
Phil. Eventually the truth about Phil and Joanna would come out, but by then
Kathleen would be back in the sane ivory tower of academia. At least Kathleen
wouldn't have to let Harry witness yet another one of her relationships go up
in smoke.
So Kathleen went to practice and
wasn't even the last to show up. When she got to the back lot, Harry was
hitting pop flys for the other players to field. Kathleen had expected the
usual hearty hello--Harry had a maddening penchant for ignoring situations and
carrying on as if they never disagreed--but this time he didn't. When he saw
Kathleen getting her gear out of her trunk, he called to Jack to take over for
him and jogged over to where Kathleen was starting to warm up. As she saw him
approach she turned toward the fence, ostensibly to stretch her legs. But the
icy shoulder she presented conveyed all he needed to know about his state of
forgiveness.
He tentatively touched her arm.
She flinched, but continued stretching. When she finally turned and looked up
into his face she caught a shadow of retreating tenderness. He opened his mouth
to say something, but thought better of it, and stood for several moments
apparently waiting to absolved.
"Boy, am I tired this
morning. Phil didn't let me get any sleep last night," Kathleen said
archly. Two can play the blow-it-off, no-big-deal game.
They gazed at each other--one
flinty and unflinching, the other hurt and disappointed. Harry finally conceded
defeat.
"Whatever..." he said
quietly, and walked away.
A sour taste in Kathleen's mouth
reminded her of something she remembered Harry saying more than once about
winning at games, about victory being sweet. It wasn't, she thought. It was
acrid. It was bitter. It was false. There was nothing either sweet or savory in
beating Harry at his own game. She wanted to call after him, run after him,
apologize for fighting with him, but she held her ground. She was not to blame
for his bad behavior, and she needed to stop shouldering the blame all the
time.
Practice was no fun, no fun at
all. Every time Kathleen bobbled the ball, she felt Harry's eyes on her,
accusing her of not trying hard enough. Every time a throw fell short, she
smarted under the knowledge that she hadn't done the upper-body exercises that
he and Maggie had prescribed for her. Every time she whiffed the ball during an
at-bat, she winced, remembering that she didn't even try to keep her eye on the
ball. And she missed his encouraging words and teasing smiles when she messed
up. It wasn't the same when Jack or Rob or even Bob and Elliot shouted faint
praise for her efforts. It was even worse when Maggie and Lettie and Gail tried
to bolster her spirits. Better that they should be like Joanna and simply
ignore her.
Practice over, she practically
ran to her car. She always went home to shower after the Monday morning
workout, not wanting to queue up for the K B K shower, and she would have made
a clean getaway if Joanna hadn't stopped her as they crossed the muddy field.
"Kathleen," Joanna
said quickly, almost under her breath. Kathleen paused to let Joanna catch up
with her, amazed that the queen would deign to address a peasant.
"I'm sorry I was so hateful
last night." Joanna was clearly not used to apologizing, and the words
came out brusquely.
Kathleen shrugged an
acknowledgement and was about to stride on when Joanna clutched at her arm.
"I was just jealous.
Everything always works out right for you and wrong for me," she whispered
harshly. "I've hated seeing you around town with Phil all summer."
"Things always work out
right for me? That's what you think?" Kathleen stared at Joanna, thinking
she had finally found someone who was even more blind to reality than she was.
"Oh yes," Joanna said,
warming to her subject. "You have the perfect family, you live in the
perfect house, you've never really had to work a day in your life. Your life's
a tidy little package--it's not smelly and messy and degrading like mine is.
You're Juniper Hills' princess, and I've been jealous of you for as long as I
can remember. And when Phil decided you were the perfect foil for us, I just
about lost it. I had to watch you with him ... going to parties, playing
tennis, dancing, swimming. I had to listen to everyone tell me what a cute
couple you were, how you were just made for each other, while I'm the femme
fatale that everyone loves to hate. It was just eating me up with jealousy, and
I'm sorry I took it out on you last night."
By now, the rest of the team had
dispersed, with both Harry and Jack giving Kathleen and Joanna curious glances
before heading up the back stairs to the K B K offices.
"I just don't understand
why you and Phil have to be so secretive. It's hard to believe that Matthew
Dixon would be so vindictive that he would ruin you if you left him."
Joanna laughed shortly.
"You are such a child. This body is worth millions. Believe me, I wish it
wasn't, but it is." Joanna displayed herself with a frankness that made
Kathleen blush. Joanna laughed at her again. "Matt doesn't care about me.
He cares about the percentage of the take he won't get if I walk out of
Campbell. You think I like selling myself to get ahead? 'Use your talents,'
Lettie used to tell me. Unfortunately, my biggest talent was making love to the
camera."
They had reached Kathleen's car,
and she opened the trunk to put her glove away. She slammed the trunk lid down
and leaned against the car, waiting for Joanna to finish. Joanna swallowed,
fighting to keep her eyes from tearing up, finally she softly said, "But
every time they take a picture, they rob a little more of my soul."
Kathleen's soft heart melted. No
matter that she had detested Joanna for years, here was a fellow creature who
demanded her sympathy...and help.
"Will you still model once
you start showing?"
Joanna didn't answer, she simply
looked at Kathleen, examining her face, trying to see behind the softness of
her eyes, wary of the friendship that was being offered.
"There is no baby."
Kathleen's stomach turned over
and her lips curled. "You guys are sick! Sick! Sick! Sick!" She
started to open her car door, but Joanna put her hand on Kathleen's.
"Phil doesn't know. He
thinks there is a baby. That's the only way I could get him to get me out of
Campbell. He was just going to let me rot there, and I couldn't stand it
anymore."
Kathleen wanted to preach at
Joanna. She wanted to tell her that lying to the man you love wasn't any way to
start a life together. She wanted to tell her that love had to come first; it
had to come before money and power and fame or it couldn't exist. But she
didn't. What right did she, Kathleen, have to tell Joanna how to live when she
hadn't walked in her shoes. She had never been made to feel that she was a
burden to her family. She had never been advised to "use her assets"
and barter her virtue for a paycheck. She had never felt the cold fear of being
caught in a game that was bigger than she was, that was played on a field where
the winners took all and the stakes were enormous. No wonder Joanna was bitter
and sad and desperate. Life with Lettie and Gramma couldn't have been easy. New
York and modeling must have seemed like an escape, but they hidden a bigger
trap. And then along came Phil-- a knight in shining armor but curiously
unwilling to joust for his lady until his manhood was on the line. Joanna had
gambled with a lie and who was Kathleen to tell her she was wrong?
"The secret will be out in
a couple of weeks. But by then, I'll be out of the noose and Phil and I can
start over, and really make a baby ... the right way. Just help us keep Matt
off the scent."
"I hate to lie. Nothing
good ever comes from lying..."
"Please, Kathleen..."
And then Kathleen felt a glow of
warmth as she remembered the one person she knew who could make everything
right. She had one friend whom she could always rely on when the worst wasn't
getting any better. And although he might make her feel awfully uncomfortable
before he allowed comfort to prevail, comfort always did ultimately prevail
when Harry was around.
"Can I tell Harry? Harry
can keep a secret. He likes you, and he's smart. He might even have a better
idea than the duress angle..."
"No. Tell no one. Phil
knows what he's doing."
Suddenly Kathleen remembered
that she had told Dorie Eastman. She bit her lip and confessed her breach of
confidence.
For a moment it seemed as if
Joanna hadn't understood what Kathleen was saying, but then she slowly slid
down the side of Kathleen's car and buried her head in her hands and wept.
Kathleen stood for several
moments, wringing her hands, uncertain what to do. Finally, she crouched beside
Joanna and slipped her arm around her shoulders and patted her hair. Then she
pulled her to her feet and put her arms around her and let Joanna weep on her
shoulder.
"Please let me talk to
Harry," Kathleen whispered into the soft folds of Joanna's hair.
"Mike's out of town this week, and Dorie won't feel guilty about keeping a
secret from him until he's home. And I know Harry will figure this out for us.
He never lets me down."
Joanna wiped her eyes with the
back of her hands and nodded. "Okay. I could kill you for telling Dorie.
But okay. You can tell Harry. He'd get it out of you anyway, he's been at the
window watching us since he went inside."
Kathleen didn't even bother to
turn around and look. She felt better just knowing Harry was there, always
there, whenever she needed him. Unconsciously she sighed and was surprised to
find Joanna laughing at her, not the bitter laugh of before but one still
tinged with sadness.
"Put the man out of his
misery and fall in love with him already."
"Harry? He's too ...
too..."
"Harry was the only person
more miserable than me watching you and Phil this summer."
"Harry? Miserable? Over me?
But Dorie said..."
"Dorie Eastman will never
admit that she settled for Mike. She wanted Harry and she wanted him bad. Not
as bad as Maggie..."
"Maggie's after
Harry?"
"You innocent child, she's
the one you better watch. She thinks he's a demigod since he wrote her a letter
of recommendation for umpire school, and while he's pretty cagey when it comes
to fending off women, unconditional devotion will wear down any man's resolve.
Plus, she keeps herself in top shape. That's quite a body she's created for
herself---one that Harry can appreciate. He's got eyes, doesn't he? And Maggie
told me that just she and he are going on a climbing trip next month."
Kathleen's stomach felt roily
and her throat tightened, "Jack's not going because of Colleen, but Rob
and Bob and Gail and Elliot are all going, aren't they?"
"Nope on all counts. Just
Maggie and Harry, alone in the mountains, depending on each other for survival
for four days ... and four nights. Unconditional devotion equals unconditional
surrender. So wise up and grow up and stop acting like a china doll if you
don't want Maggie to walk away with your man."
Kathleen stepped out of the hot
shower and quickly rubbed her skin dry. She glanced out the bathroom window and
couldn't help smiling despite a growing anxiety regarding what lay ahead of her
that morning. She had left Joanna at the ball field and hurried home to shower
and dress for work. And while she was in the shower, the sun had almost
dissipated the last of the clouds left over from the previous night's storm and
the wind, having wantonly spent most of its force, was content to linger on as
a playful breeze. Summer was returning to Juniper Hills and Kathleen, alive to
the energy latent in the storm-washed air, felt her spirits rebounding.
On the one hand, she was
relieved to know that she no longer needed to try to fall in love with Phil. No
wonder she hadn't felt the spark! He had been in love with Joanna since before
he even came to Juniper Hills. And while she didn't much care to be the foil in
his and Joanna's little charade, at least her body, with its unerring good
judgment, hadn't let her offer up her heart. Her hormones weren't messed up at
all! They were dead on the mark and should be trusted from henceforward ...
which forced her to consider the other hand. The one occupied by an impudent,
charming, maddening nerve of a gorgeous man, Harry Kinsley. Apparently, the
kiss he had given her in Colleen's basement yesterday afternoon had been
neither a fluke nor a testosterone surge--well, at least not entirely.
According to Joanna, he was nuts
about her. According to Dorie, he was little short of a Lothario. According to
Joanna, Dorie was a woman scorned and so her pronouncements shouldn't be taken
too seriously. According to her own body? Well, Kathleen had felt physically
ill when Joanna told her that Maggie was after Harry.
Hmmm? Interesting.
She sat down on her bed. What if
she were to let her body make all her decisions? Even in the solitude of her
room, Kathleen blushed at the decision she knew her body would make if left to
itself. She lay back and closed her eyes. It would be delicious to be with
Harry. Being with him, she thought drowsily, was like standing in sunshine
after a storm--you felt clean and energized and fresh. When you were with Harry
you felt like you were walking through clouds of free electrons that he kicked
up as he walked or moved or even breathed. Kathleen sighed and gave in to
temptation and conjured up her favorite image of Harry, dancing to Wimoweh
in the kid's club gym, hands splayed heavenward as he rolled his hips and
curved his lips to the rhythm and the beat, completely unconcerned about how he
looked, completely at home with himself. Completely in love with her?
The phone rang. Kathleen jumped.
She glanced at the clock as she guiltily scrambled to answer it. Nine-thirty!
She and Joanna had talked longer than she had thought! And then her little
reverie...
It was Harry. Was she planning
on coming in to work that day? She assured him she would be right there. Good,
all hell was breaking loose and he needed the office managed, if she could fit
it into her schedule. She reminded him that she had said she would be right
there, but to do that she would need to get off the phone and get dressed.
"You're not dressed
yet?" Kathleen felt a wave of relief wash over her as she heard the old
familiar teasing tone back in his voice.
"Just put your softball
clothes back on and hustle on over here."
"They're stinky."
"No one will notice."
"I'll notice."
"Just get to work."
"Harry..."
"Yes..."
"I need to talk to
you..."
"Look, I said I was
sorry..."
"Actually you didn't, but I
need to talk to you about something else."
"Actually I did. What's
up?"
Actually you didn't! No point going there. "Are we
friends again?"
"We never stopped being
friends."
"I need to talk to you
about Joanna."
Harry didn't answer, so Kathleen
went on shakily, "Joanna is in an awful mess."
"Don't get involved, Kathleen."
"I already am."
Another long pause. He was
probably rolling his eyes or holding his forehead. Finally he said quietly,
"Please put on some clothes and come to work. I need you here. We'll talk
about the other later, I promise."
She smiled. Everything would be
okay...eventually. Sunshine and free electrons have a way of beguiling a girl,
especially one whose body has taken to demanding its share in the conversation.
"I love you, Harry,"
she said quickly.
"I love you too, but you
still have to come in to work."
Kathleen ground her teeth as she
hung up the phone. Why did he always have to be so nonchalant?
Harry stared out of his office
window. Nonchalance was pretty much the antithesis of how he was actually
feeling, as his accelerated heartbeat, dry mouth, and faraway eyes could
testify. He watched the street sweepers washing away the green slime that lay
caked on the roads and sidewalks of the pretty little town. Soon only stripped
trees and empty gardens would remain to remind the people of Juniper Hills of
the previous night's storm. Life was messy and cleaning up only got you so far
if the damage was deep. Sometimes it took a cycle of seasons to heal nature's
self-inflicted wounds; sometimes it took several cycles.
"Harry?"
Harry turned and waved Jack and
Lettie into his office. Jack closed the door behind them.
"I think we need to get the
lawyers involved this time..." Jack began.
Harry sighed. It was going to be
a long day.
Meanwhile Kathleen, mindful of
Harry's directive to get to work pronto, quickly put on her makeup and dried
and styled her hair, then she opened her closet and scanned the possibilities.
She didn't feel in a shorts mood. She wanted to at least have a semblance of
control when she faced Harry. K B K was the most casual office in which
Kathleen had ever worked and early on she had jokingly suggested that they
institute a dress-up day the way other companies had dress-down days. Kathleen
liked to project a certain "put-together" image and never felt quite
comfortable if she wasn't tidy, crisp, and coordinated.
Her eyes rested on a pale blue
sleeveless linen dress. She fingered it, enjoying the look and feel of the soft
knobby material. Normally, sleeveless wouldn't make the cut for work, but this
particular dress had a certain panache and its silk lining was sheer heaven.
She slipped it off its hanger and over her head. Then she stepped back and
admired herself in the mirror. The square cut neckline contrasted nicely with
the heavy darts that accentuated her figure. It wasn't short, just above the
knee, but it looks short, Kathleen thought with satisfaction. The last time she
had worn the dress Harry had commented that she looked like "Little House
on the Prairie Meets Hugh Hefner." She assumed he meant it as a compliment,
but you never could tell with Harry. She stepped into a pair of sandals, kissed
her reflection affectionately, waved goodbye to the lovely flowers on her desk,
and stepped forth into a cloud of free electrons.
By eleven Kathleen was starting
to get worried. The door to Harry's office remained closed and allegedly Harry,
Jack, and Lettie were behind it in an unscheduled conference. Rob Haskins, when
questioned by Kathleen, revealed that shortly after Jack and Lettie had gone
in, Harry had poked his head out to tell the office that they were not to be
interrupted. Gail Hawkins whispered that she had taken it upon herself to
answer the phone in Kathleen's absence--"My friends tell me not to do a
secretary's work, that it will hinder my career, but I like to be a good team
player ... what took you so long this morning anyway?" Gail showed
Kathleen the pile of messages that had already come in for Harry and Jack.
Kathleen shuffled through them, and was dismayed to see three already that
morning for Harry from Maggie Obermann. Some people were so pushy!
At eleven-thirty, Lettie emerged
from Harry's office, her eyes and nostrils red-rimmed and raw but she looked
relieved, happy almost. She stopped by Kathleen's desk for her messages, and
then laid a hand on Kathleen's shoulder.
"Never be afraid to follow
your heart, Kathleen dear. Even when it takes you down a dark road..."
Kathleen looked up into the
older woman's face. She had never understood Lettie, never even thought she was
worth understanding. Lettie Bridges had simply been part of the backdrop of
Kathleen's life for so long that Kathleen actually gave the furniture more
thought than she gave to Lettie and her life and all that it might entail.
"Kathleen!" Harry was
beckoning her into his office. She smiled at Lettie and skirted around her.
Harry asked her to close the
door and then he started rifling through the papers on his desk and barking
orders. He wanted Kathleen to set up a meeting with Matthew Dixon for that
afternoon--"I'll play golf with him if I have to, but I have to see him
today."
"I don't think we should
deal with Matthew Dixon anymore," Kathleen said testily.
Harry looked up sharply.
"He's our lawyer, we need a lawyer, set up the meeting, please."
"But he's ... he's..."
Kathleen blushed, stammering. Harry's impatience with her had undermined her
resolve, but if Harry knew what she knew about Matthew Dixon's ethics, surely
he wouldn't want to have anything to do with him. Besides, she felt as if any
contact with Matthew would be a betrayal of Joanna.
"Look Kathleen. I don't
know why you've decided you don't like Matthew anymore, but business is
business." He glanced up at her and then shifted into his professorial
stance: "The first thing you need to learn is that you don't have to like
everyone you deal with. Just ignore the stuff you don't like and that way
you'll always have a full roster when it's game time."
"Ignore the stuff I don't
like? I don't believe you, Harry. You're telling me to ignore..."
He interrupted her.
"Kathleen, let me put it to you this way. Lettie is having a breakdown.
She screwed up her part of the Heidelberg project royal. She stamped work she
didn't check, and the contractor has been ringing the phone off the hook about
mistake after mistake he's discovering. Skip Heidelberg is ready to sue us from
here to kingdom come, and Lettie has now decided that she wants Jack and me to
buy her share of the partnership so that she can go off and 'find
herself.'"
He paused and stared into
Kathleen's widening eyes. "Now would you please set up a meeting with our
lawyer so that I can get some help in figuring out how to turn this thing
around. You can call up Colleen later and moan and groan about horrible it is
to work with people you don't happen to like, but right now I need your
help."
"Any time this
afternoon?" Kathleen asked curtly.
"Any time today--I'll buy
him dinner, I'll take him to a Rockies game, I'll drive him to the airport, but
I have to meet with him today."
Ten minutes later, Kathleen
informed Harry that he had a two-seventeen tee time at the country club with
Matthew Dixon. She brought him a sandwich and a cup of coffee, gave him his
messages sorted by caller and time, and waited for further instructions.
Kathleen had a busy afternoon.
Harry's further instructions filled two sheets of paper, and that was just what
he came up with over lunch. There was no doubt the man was thorough. Like a
field marshall, he was shoring up his flanks, making sure his supply lines were
open and reinforcements were on their way. Jack mobilized the rest of the
office, pulling them off the Forsythe project to do triage on Lettie's
Heidelberg work.
Late afternoon Harry called from
the golf course. He wanted Kathleen to set up dinner at the club for
seven-thirty. She could work out the details with Wendy, Skip Heidelberg's
secretary, but the meeting needed to include Skip, Matthew Dixon, and Harry.
"Matthew wants you there
too, to take notes. He says a law clerk will make the meeting too formal and
will make Skip nervous, but you'll be able to listen and pick up things and
Skip won't mind you being there."
Window dressing with a notepad,
Kathleen thought. "Seven-thirty, at the club. Do I need to arrange
anything with Matthew's office?"
"Touch bases with Angela,
but I don't think they need to do anything."
"Anything else?"
"I need to talk to Jack
about how the fixes are going." He lowered his voice and asked, "Has
Lettie been in?"
"Not since she left at
noon."
"Swing by the house and
check on her before dinner, okay? Make sure Joanna knows what's been going on
and will be there for her. I think Lettie's pretty confused right now."
Kathleen transferred Harry to
Jack, and then started on Harry's latest list. Jack transferred Harry back,
"One more thing, can you buzz up to Kenwood and get me a clean shirt and
slacks? Jack has a key he'll give you."
"Anything else?"
"Thank you."
Kathleen pulled into Harry's
driveway at six-thirty. She had been longer at Lettie's than she had planned
and was running late.
Harry was right--Lettie was a
mess. Glad to finally be out from under the weight of a life she hated but full
of remorse for taking the coward's way out, Lettie was only too happy to
explain the situation to Kathleen. "I never wanted to be an engineer, but
Daddy was so insistent that a Bridges stay part of the firm, especially after
he and Wilson Kinsley had that awful fight back in the 70's. I just couldn't
say 'no' to him. Worst of all, I got good grades and passed all the exams and
before I knew it I was taking over from Daddy. And meanwhile I wasn't getting
any younger. I've always wanted to go to Tibet, you know. And Peru. Did you
know that Maggie Obermann is going to go to Maachu Pichu next year? She said
that Harry wants to go too. I didn't know he wanted to see the world, but
Maggie says he does, awful bad, just like she does, just like I do. I know I
should have resigned, but whenever I tried to I remembered Daddy's face when he
told me to suck it up and be a man. God knows I've wanted to be a man plenty of
times. I thought maybe I'd like being an engineer better if I were male. It's
awful, my causing so much trouble, but at least I don't have to go in and stare
at that awful computer every day anymore."
"So do you know what you
want to do, Lettie?" Kathleen inquired when Lettie paused for breath.
"I want a baby."
Kathleen shot a glance at
Joanna, who was sitting next to Lettie on the couch, holding her hand. Gramma
Bridges, Lettie's mother, was dozing in a chair in a sunny window.
"Lettie's thinking about
adopting a baby from China," Joanna explained.
"But first I'm going to
become a teacher. A P.E. teacher. Daddy always said that 'those who can--do,
those who can't--teach...'"
"Oh, forget what he said,
Lettie," Joanna cried. "That was twenty years ago, and it was a
stupid saying then and it's still a stupid saying. If you want to go get a
teaching certificate, then do it. If you want to adopt a baby and be a mother,
then do it. You're not trapped anymore. You've gotten out of your cage, so run,
run!"
Kathleen thought Joanna looked like she wanted to run as well. Kathleen wondered whether Joanna would contrive a total screw up in order to get herself out of her cage the way her aunt had. Maybe Joanna's lie about being pregnant was her way of totally screwing up a modeling career.
Kathleen circled the country
club parking lot for the second time. It was seven-fifteen, dinner was at
seven-thirty, and she still had Harry's clothes in the back of her car. He was
not going to be happy with her--his instructions had been so meticulous
regarding the dinner meeting, and she couldn't even manage to get him a change
of clothes on time.
She spied a tennis couple
leaving the club house and shadowed them, drumming her fingers on the steering
wheel while they loaded their gear in their trunk, flirted with each other
across the hood, and finally vacated their space. Kathleen parked the car and
jogged across the parking lot.
Harry wasn't in the lobby
waiting for her as he had promised. She checked the deck, crowded with golfers,
and then poked her head into the bar. There he was, holding court at one end of
the bar, tanned and relaxed, regaling the club patrons with sports stories, no
doubt, looking as if he didn't have a care in the world, much less a lawsuit
hanging over his head. And then Kathleen went green as Harry moved slightly,
revealing Maggie Obermann as one of the women who was finding him so amusing.
Maggie looped a hand around Harry's neck and reeled him in to hear a secret.
Kathleen watched grimly as Harry listened and then threw back his head and
laughed. At that moment, he spied Kathleen, standing awkwardly at the bar's
entrance with his shirt and slacks draped over one arm and a gym bag containing
his shoes and socks in her other hand. Without acknowledging Kathleen's
presence, Harry gallantly kissed Maggie's hand and bowed adieu to his audience.
Then he sauntered over to Kathleen.
"What took you so
long?"
"Traffic ... Lettie ...
Belle."
"Belle?"
"She wanted to play and
kept on tripping me while I was getting your stuff. Is this all right? I didn't
know which shirt you would want, so I just picked my favorite."
"This is your favorite?
Hmm? Interesting taste," he teased. "I'll go change and meet you and
Matthew at the table. Hopefully, I'll get there before Skip does."
Kathleen laid a hand on his arm.
"Harry...Colleen told me you stopped by last night. When I went by the
house to get your key, she said that the flowers in my room were from you...thank
you."
"Don't mention it," he
said carelessly. "I just raided Colleen's greenhouse..."
"Oh." Kathleen
suddenly felt awkward again. "It's just that ... I mean ... well, she
said..."
She couldn't finish her
sentence. Not with Harry looking at her as if he had just lost his best friend.
What Colleen had said that
afternoon when Kathleen had dropped by to get Harry's key had sounded wise and
wonderful, ancient and true. Here in the lobby of the Juniper Hills country
club, where old money and modern business dealings converged on the eighteenth
green and were played out in the sauna and dining room and bar, Colleen's frank
summary of Kathleen and Harry's relationship sounded trivial and foolish.
"Said what, Kathleen? I
need to go and change. What did Colleen tell you?"
Kathleen hesitated. Harry was
clearly impatient with her for delaying him further. He was itching to suit up
for battle. Ready to outmaneuver, outflank, and outfight whatever stood in his
way, but there was an eagerness in his eyes, a vulnerability, a chink in his
armor, that he couldn't quite hide. She recognized the look. She had glimpsed
it just before he had kissed her yesterday; she had seen it fleetingly when he
had jogged over to her at practice that morning. She took a breath. She knew
she was going to sound stupid, but he had asked.
"She said that I have luck
in my eyes."
Kathleen watched Harry's Adam's
apple flex as he swallowed hard, and then she felt the room around them fall
away and the din of the world become a roar of quietness as he took her hands
and held them in his own, as if he were holding a baby bird. He reached out
with one hand and touched her face. He smoothed his fingertips down her temple,
as if blending the luck in her eyes into the soft luster of her cheeks. He
traced down the delicate line of her jaw until it curved up into her chin.
His voice was low but steady,
"I need luck tonight, Kath. Will you share some with me?"
Almost in a trance, she nodded
and replied, "Colleen says that squandering luck is worse than squandering
joy and love, because you can find joy and you can make love, but you can only
share luck..."
Before Harry had a chance to
answer, a jarring, jesting voice jostled Kathleen, "Break it up you two,
we've got a meeting in three minutes!" and she looked up to see Matthew
Dixon standing next to her, her shoulder already encased in his large, bony
hand. She gazed at him with such a dismayed face that he laughed at her, and
Harry, foolish man that he was, laughed too, as if Kathleen was the only one
who had been caught in the act of falling in love.
Then Kathleen could have kicked
Harry because he grinned, winked at Matthew, leaned over Kathleen, and
whispered loudly and conspiratorially, "We'll finish this discussion...
later!"
Harry let go of her hands and
stepped back, gave Kathleen a Groucho leer, entirely for Matthew's benefit, she
knew, but still ... he was aggravating. Then he topped it all by saying in a
loud voice, "By the way, I'm glad you wore that dress. You look great,
sort of like a cross between..."
"I know, I know,"
Kathleen interrupted, desperate that Harry not share his favorite description
of her attire with Matthew. "Go change and stop trying to embarrass
me."
"Hey Kath, clear my bar
tab, will you," he ordered over his shoulder as he headed for the men's
locker room.
"Harry thinks he's such a
riot," Kathleen said to Matthew, rolling her eyes in a feeble attempt to
cover her confusion with nonchalance.
Matthew Dixon's steely grays
told Kathleen that he wasn't a man who was easily fooled. Kathleen flushed
under his steady gaze, acutely aware that he had not removed his hand from her
shoulder.
"I thought," he began,
"that you and Phil Van Demeer were a hot item. I didn't know that you were
the kind of girl to play on the side with old family friends."
"Harry is a great kidder,
you know that, Matthew," Kathleen said hurriedly, shrugging his hand off
her shoulder as she tended to the business of transferring Harry's bar tab to
the restaurant.
"What I do know,"
Matthew continued in the slow, controlling voice of a seasoned attorney,
"is that I've known Harry Kinsley for a long time, princess, and he isn't
one to lead a woman on, though God knows most would let him if he tried. Now
whether you're leading him on, is another, and perhaps a more interesting
question."
Before she could squelch it, a
tiny look of alarm darted across Kathleen's face. Matthew's eagle eyes caught
it and they glittered with excitement. His nostrils flared as if he was on to a
scent.
The only thing that Matthew had
going against him was Kathleen's decision that morning to let her body make all
her decisions. It was not for nothing that Kathleen had stopped going over to
the Dixon's to swim back in high school. Marsha Dixon had been a good friend,
but once Kathleen had reached puberty, Matthew's sidelong glances and remarks
about her porcelain beauty had grown increasingly creepy. Better to lose a
friend than be pursued by her father. And now the feeling of being pursued was
back, stronger than ever. Her brain cells and stomach lining and nerve endings
and neck muscles were all shouting in unison that Matthew Dixon was a dangerous
man.
"Shall we?" Matthew
asked, putting his hand back on Kathleen's shoulder and sliding it down until
it rested just above her hip while he steered her toward the dining room.
Rather than shrugging off his
hand as she had done earlier, Kathleen decided that the best way to deal with
Matthew was to not swallow the bait. He clearly like to provoke her and was
willing to up the ante every time she played a card.
Okay, then, I just won't play
the game. I'm a spectator, not a player. If he sees I'm not playing, he'll
leave me alone. I just wish that Harry would get here and take over.
Thinking of Harry was a big
mistake. Driving down the mountain from his house, Kathleen had had a
heart-to-heart with herself. Troubling as it was, she had to face facts and
admit that she was in love with Harry and, merciful heavens, he must be in love
with her because he had gone completely stupid on her. Kissing her and then
feeling guilty about it was one thing, but giving her flowers and then
expecting her to somehow know that they were from him...couldn't the man write a
simple note? And then to get in a snit over it. Kathleen had read enough
women's magazines to know that such stupidity was an ironclad sign of love in
the male half of the species.
Following closely on the heels
of this realization was the admission that she was in an awful mess. To wit,
she was about to spend the next several hours in the company of the man her
body insisted that she loved, pretending to be someone else's girlfriend
because that man's real girlfriend had been seduced into being a ninny by the
unscrupulous attorney of the man she loved. And she was expected to take notes
during dinner. Without remembering to ignore Matthew she spoke the thought,
"Oh drat, I forgot my notepad in the car."
He smiled. "You don't need
a notepad."
"But Harry said you wanted
me to take notes during dinner."
"That's what I told him,
but actually you're just here to distract Skip."
"Excuse me?"
"You're a very attractive
girl, and Skip likes girls. Oh look, there he is now with Harry. Smile,
princess, and show a little leg."
Matthew was right. Kathleen
didn't need her notebook because not a word about the lawsuit or the trouble
between K B K and Heidelberg was mentioned throughout dinner. The men talked
about their golf game, the Rockies' slump, the stock market, their golf swing,
the Broncos' training camp, their golf clubs, radial arm saws, the Nuggets'
chances of ever getting into post-season play, the pro shop at the club, and on
and on until Kathleen felt that if they started talking about their golf socks
she might actually start screaming. In fact, she had quite a good little
fantasy going on in her mind about running through the lobby shrieking about
golf abuse when Harry suggested that he and Skip go over to the pro shop and
look at titanium clubs while Matthew and Kathleen decided which desserts to
order.
Kathleen was still recovering
from Harry's appalling manners--she could scarcely believe he would be so rude
as to leave the table before the dinner adjourned--when Matthew started up
again.
"So, Kathleen, it's nice
having you back in Juniper Hills. We miss you girls when you go off to
college."
Kathleen suppressed the shiver
that his oily voice sent down her spine. "Actually, I'm leaving for grad
school in three weeks."
"Really? Marsha didn't
mention that you were going on with your schooling. Good for you. Going for an
MBA?"
"A master's in Colonial
Spanish art and architecture, down in Albuquerque."
"Oh, that's right. Your
daddy let you go down the liberal arts path. I guess a girl like you will never
need to earn her own bread. Fellows like Phil Van Demeer are always willing to
pick up what daddy doesn't provide. Am I right, or am I right?"
Kathleen smiled thinly.
Explaining her life to Matthew Dixon was not high on her list of fun ways to
spend an evening. She wished Harry would get back to the table--better to
endure sports chatter than to have all of Matthew's attention focused on her.
The feeling she had earlier of being pursued came back in spades.
Kathleen slowly took a sip of
water and searched for a safe topic. She wasn't quick enough. As she set down
her water glass, Matthew reached over and covered her hand with his, essentially
trapping it as he curved his fingers under her palm.
"Eveline and I are really
looking forward to your fund-raiser next week. You are such a sweetheart to put
on this event for those poor kids. You just pick out whatever you want us to
bid on, and I'll make sure I drive the price sky high."
"I'd rather you and Eveline
decide," Kathleen replied testily, pulling her hand out from under his.
She knew the conversation had nothing to do with what Matthew was going to buy,
just how he was going to buy it. "Maybe you can get some artwork for the
office. Phil's told me you're redecorating."
Matthew smiled softly,
"That's the ticket, princess. You know art. I need art. You tell me what
to buy, and I'll write the check." Then he leaned back in his chair and
looked into her eyes. He let the silence sink in before he smoothed the hair
back from his temples, and said, "Say, I just had a brainstorm." He
leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand, waiting for her to follow.
She did. Unconsciously, she
leaned forward, towards him, waiting on his words. And then she caught
herself--her consciousness asserted itself as she realized that he was
choreographing her movements. Kathleen forced herself to lean back and casually
took another sip of water.
He chuckled softly and murmured,
"You break my heart, princess."
Kathleen gripped the bottom of
her chair with her hands to keep them from slapping the slimy smile off his
face. She loathed the soft mockery in his voice. She loathed the connection he
had fashioned between them. It was an intimacy based on her discomfort. He knew
that she would rather do anything than show how uncomfortable she was with him.
She knew he had her where he wanted her. He went in for the kill.
"I've been looking at
buying part interest in a gallery in Santa Fe. Trouble is, I don't know a thing
about art, but I know how to make money. With you in Albuquerque, maybe you can
keep an eye on things for me if I go ahead and take the plunge."
"Keep an eye on
things?"
"Manage the gallery."
"But I'd be in school over
an hour away."
"Maybe managing the gallery
is more attractive than going to school."
"Are you making me an
offer?"
He smiled slowly and took her
hand again. "If that's the way you want to look at it, then yes, I
am."
So this was how he seduced
Joanna into being a ninny.
"I've always wanted to live
in Santa Fe," she murmured, her big blue eyes brimming with innocence.
"Who hasn't. Blue skies.
Rugged mountains. Bohemian artist types."
"I've dreamed of having my
own gallery."
"I can tell that you've got
a knack for the gallery business. We'll do well together." He lifted a
tendril of her hair. "This pretty blond hair set against black and
turquoise." He squeezed her hand and said softly, "So do we have a
deal?"
"I'll have to ask Harry first."
This time it was Kathleen who
caught a look of alarm as it darted across Matthew's face. To her vast
disappointment, he recovered immediately and said evenly, "Harry? I
thought you were a grown woman, Kathleen, capable of making your own decisions."
"Oh, but Matthew, Harry and
I have a deal. I tell him everything I want to do, and he tells me how wrong it
is. It works wonderfully." She paused to tuck the strands of hair he had
been fondling behind her ear, "And Matthew, I don't think Harry would like
this particular arrangement. You see, he's very territorial when it comes to
controlling me."
If Kathleen imagined that
Matthew was going to pout or rage or fume, she was sadly mistaken. He looked at
her steadily, then grinned--not a smarmy, lust-in-the eye leer--but an honest,
job-well-done grin.
"You're smarter than you
look, princess. Ever thought of becoming a lawyer?"
"No, but I've thought long
and hard about not becoming one."
He lifted his wine glass and touched her water glass, "Phil is toast, isn't he?"
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2004 Copyright held by the author.