by Fran Baker
She hugged her arms and masked her disappointment behind a go-get-’em smile. “That’d give the economy around here a real boost.”
“And you more workers to organize?” he teased.
“Organization’s the name of the game.” But she smiled as she said it.
“Be careful at work,” he said as he opened the door.
“Good luck in Washington.”
Lightning snake-whipped across the sky.
“See you Friday night,” Ben promised before he bounded down the porch steps and jogged toward his car.
Thunder cracked a threat of its own.
Kitty closed the door on the cold wind swirling in and whispered to the sudden emptiness, “Friday night.”
Sunday morning Jessie did her wrist-strengthening exercises and prepared herself for church. Then she popped a startling question. “Are you going to marry Ben Cooper?”
Kitty’s head snapped up in surprise and her fingers froze on the panty hose she was putting on. “Of course not.”
Dressed in a short skirt and a simple sweater, Jessie perched on the edge of her mother’s painted iron bed. “Then why were you kissing him last night?”
Kitty smoothed down the skirt of the winter-white cable knit chemise she’d bought during her secretarial days, wondering just how much Jessie had seen. No more than she’d seen on television or in the movies, of that she was certain.
She’d never before felt modest in front of her daughter, and in the past she’d always answered her questions about the workings of the human body with more frankness than her mother had answered her questions. But now Ben’s touch had aroused something so new and so different inside her, she wasn’t quite ready to share it.
“I kissed him because I like him,” she finally said, deciding she was entitled to some privacy.
Jessie pleated the quilted comforter between her fingers. “I didn’t think you liked men.”
“Where’d you get that idea?” Kitty stepped into jazz-bowed pumps that gave her the feminine foot she sorely missed working in the mine.
“Oh, you know”—Jessie sketched a shrug—“the way you talk about them sometimes.”
Rain pattered against the windows, the only sound in the silent bedroom. But a hundred memories of sarcastic comments and cryptic snubs bubbled up in Kitty’s mind.
For Kitty they were learned defenses, but that didn’t ease her guilty realization that she might have scarred Jessie for life by giving half the population such a bum rap. After all, one ex-husband did not an entire gender make! Ben Cooper was walking proof of that. And she could only hope that it wasn’t too late to right the grievous wrong she’d done her daughter.
Sitting down now, she put her arm around Jessie’s narrow shoulders. “How would you like to go out for breakfast after church?”
Jessie cocked her head, giving the suggestion serious consideration. “Can I pick the place?”
Kitty knew that she was probably going to regret this, but she wanted Jessie to be in a receptive mood for the mother-daughter talk she was planning. “Pick away.”
Jessie named her favorite restaurant, a greasy spoon if there ever was one, and Kitty realized she was going to have to eat lots of oat bran during the coming week. Then, hugging her again, she said, “Now, go find the umbrella while I finish getting ready.”
The rain was dropping straight down as if from a faucet when they stepped out onto the porch. Sheet lightning behind the clouds made the sky look like a great faded gray cloth. But as she made a mad dash for the Blazer, Kitty decided it was the perfect day for clearing the air.
“You’re sure I can’t change your mind about staying for dinner and catching a later flight home?” the senator asked.
“I’m afraid not, sir.” Ben stood and shrugged his Burberry-clad shoulders, then stuck out his hand. It was Friday morning, bleak and cold in the nation’s capital, and he couldn’t wait to get back to Cooperville after a grueling week on the Hill. “I really appreciate your asking, though.”
The senator had graduated from college with Ben’s father and had stood as Ben’s godfather. When Ben had called, saying he was in Washington seeking federal approval for his coke-fired power plant, the senator invited him for dinner that night at his house in Georgetown. Barring that, he’d asked him to stop by his office for a chat before heading for the airport.
He removed his silver-rimmed reading glasses now and rose from the chair behind his desk to shake the hand that Ben had proffered in farewell. Since most of their conversation had been of a personal nature, he posed a question in the professional realm. “So how did it go with the energy and environmental people?”
“Better than I expected, sir.” Moving to the window, Ben studied the long view of Washington. But he saw Kitty’s heart-shaped face and haunting blue eyes. He wondered what she was doing at this very moment. Something dangerous, he was sure.
Damn, but that woman worried him to death! The week had been pure hell for him. In Washington, he’d worked like a man possessed, skipping the usual rounds of diplomatic receptions and dinner parties in order to get back to Cooperville and see for himself that she was all right.
He turned away from the window now, his stormy gray eyes belying his good news. “They voted on it yesterday morning and promised me a letter of approval by the end of the month.”
“If you don’t mind,” the other man said, “I’d like to show the Canadians a copy of your proposal to prove that we’re using good old American ingenuity to resolve the acid rain problem.”
“I’ll fax you one first thing Monday morning.” Ben was justifiably proud of his groundbreaking design. “And tell the prime minister I’ll personally give him a guided tour when we go on line.”
An aide came in, his footsteps shushing across the plush carpet, and laid a stack of memos on the large desk that dominated one of the nation’s most powerful offices.
“It was good seeing you again, sir.” Ben took advantage of the interruption to make his break. “My best to the family.”
The senator detained him a moment longer. “It’s too bad we couldn’t have pitched a few horseshoes while you were here, but Washington is as cold as the bottom of Dante’s hell this time of year.”
“I heard you put a pit in your yard.” Ben belted his trench coat and checked his pocket for his plane ticket. His luggage was in the trunk of the chauffeured limo waiting on the circular drive. “Maybe we can get a game in next spring.”
“Just out of curiosity,” the senator said with a genial grin as he accompanied him to the door, “what’s got you in such a hurry that you can’t even have dinner with your godfather?”
Ben pictured Jessie’s eager young face in his mind’s eye now and answered with a smile, “Would you believe a date with a princess?”
“Jamie’s mom is picking me up at six,” Jessie said over an early dinner. “Coach Brown told us we have to be suited up and on the court by seven for warmups.”
“Look for me after the game.” Kitty had gotten up at five that morning and fixed vegetable soup, leaving it to simmer on the stove all day so Jessie could relax when she got home from school. “I’ll be waiting by the gym door.”
Jessie lowered her spoon. “Jamie asked me to sleep over at her house tonight.”
Kitty set her own spoon back in her bowl and leaned earnestly across the table. “Darling, you know I don’t want you staying over there while her dad—”
“He’s gone again.” Jessie breathed a long, disillusioned sigh. “And Jamie’s really down about it.”
“When did he leave?” Kitty wasn’t surprised, just saddened that he kept putting his wife and children through the emotional wringer. She could only hope that Carol would eventually get a restraining order and hang him out to dry.
“Night before last.” Jessie picked up her spoon. “Jamie said they had a fight when her mom came home from work. Something about him drinking all day instead of fixing dinner. He beat her up, then took off before the sheri
ff got there.”
Remembering the vow she’d made after her talk with Jessie on Sunday—no more male-bashing, no matter how well-deserved—Kitty bit back a caustic remark about the absent Bob Brooks and finished her soup in silence. But that didn’t keep her from wishing that someone would teach him a lesson.
“Gotta go.” Jessie jumped up from the table when a car horn honked out front.
“Got your nightshirt?” Kitty called after her.
At the kitchen doorway she stopped and spun back, all eyes and legs and adolescent hope as she held up her gear bag. “I stuck it in here, just in case—”
Kitty imagined that Jamie’s father was running scared now that the sheriff was after him, so Jessie wouldn’t be in any danger if she stayed over. She also realized that Jessie’s being gone tonight would give her some time alone with Ben.
The thought brought a wave of guilt, but she deserved an occasional night off, she told herself. She needed to be something besides a parent, and it was past time to see what that something was.
“Be home by noon tomorrow,” she finally said.
“Thanks, Mom.” Jessie whirled and ran toward the front door, hollering when the car horn was honked again. “I’m coming!”
Kitty washed up their few dishes, then went to get ready for the game. Since she’d taken a shower and shampooed her hair after work, all she had to do was change her clothes.
So why did she try on three different outfits before choosing a red corduroy dress with a button front, a flattering dropped waist, and a gently gathered skirt that made the most of both her figure and her coloring?
And why did she apply makeup—a light foundation on her face, a dusting of blush on her cheeks, a smudge of liner at the base of her lashes and a coat of mascara on them, and—last but not least—crayon-red lipstick?
Kitty told herself that she wasn’t going to all this trouble for Ben’s sake, that she just wanted to look nice for Jessie’s game. But when she studied her reflection in the mirror, eyes sparkling with excitement and palms pressed to her dancing stomach, she knew she wasn’t fooling anyone. Not even herself.
Eight
The gym smelled of floor varnish and hot buttered popcorn, the pep band sounded like it could use a couple more weeks of practice, and Ben looked good enough to eat.
Kitty saw him before he saw her. She’d just come in through the double doors, wondering if she should take her seat in the bleachers with Jessie’s teammates’ parents and save the one beside her, when she spotted him.
He stood on the sidelines at midcourt, wearing an epauleted trench coat that enhanced his broad shoulders and a smile that was as proud as any papa’s. The fact that he was here as a friend, not a father, only made it that much more special.
Kitty watched him as he studied the girls warming up before the game. When she heard him toss out words of encouragement when Jessie swished a practice free throw and Jamie made a perfect rebound, Kitty felt a rush of emotion so strong it brought tears of joy to her eyes.
Oh, how Jessie needed this, to experience the missing link of male attention! How she needed the doting and the loving discipline that her own father had failed to provide. And how she was showing off just now for the new man in her life, making practically every basket she attempted.
Ben looked in Kitty’s direction just as the refs, in their zebra-striped shirts, pounded onto the court and the buzzer brought the practice session to an end. His smile widened when their eyes met across the noisy gym and her world narrowed to the man who stood head and shoulders above the crowd.
Like a long-parched desert rose in the sweetest of spring rains, love burgeoned inside her. But with it came a thorn of pain.
Until the accident, she’d always viewed Benjamin Cooper as her natural enemy. And why not? He was the wealthy scion of a wealthy scion; she was a third-generation redneck. He had success stamped all over him. The only thing she hadn’t failed at was motherhood. And on that the verdict was still out.
Now she didn’t know what to think. She knew only that their differences ran as deep as the rich black coal seams that had divided their families for nearly a century. That gap was bound to widen when the bargaining talks resumed and they sat down on opposite sides of the table next week. But for tonight …
Ben mouthed an inaudible “hi” but stayed where he was, waiting for her to come to him.
Kitty mouthed her own silent “hi” and started up the sideline.
As she wended her way toward him, their eyes spoke volumes, but this was neither the time nor the place to give voice to their pent-up feelings.
“I missed you,” he said, shrugging off his trench coat and slinging it over one shoulder.
“I missed you too,” she answered with an honesty she wouldn’t have been capable of a couple of weeks earlier.
The pep band tackled “The Star-Spangled Banner” with more enthusiasm than skill, and they stood at attention then, not more than a few inches separating their hands as they joined the crowd in singing along.
Kitty’s heart soared to the rafters when Ben’s robust baritone mingled with her own soft soprano. She’d never known such a feeling of closeness, of completeness as she did at this moment and with this man.
As the stirring anthem ended on the trembling note of a trumpet, a brand-new song—richer and more satisfying, somehow—began when he followed her up the concrete steps to cheer her daughter’s team from the bleachers.
“I didn’t realize it would be this crowded,” he grumbled between “excuse me’s” as they sidled past the other parents’ knees.
“Kentuckians take their basketball seriously at every level,” she said, aware that everyone was watching as he followed her to their seats.
“Tell me about it.”
“What do you mean?”
Ben nodded a greeting to one of the men he’d worked with, then helped her out of her coat. “I got suckered into three different betting pools on my lunch breaks and drew three certain losers.”
“That’ll teach you to gamble with people you don’t know.” Kitty waved to Carol, who was sitting between Jamie’s two little brothers and wearing a pair off sunglasses that were obviously meant to hide her bruises.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said sheepishly as he laid their coats on the bleacher, then lowered himself close beside her.
Momentarily distracted by the woman in dark glasses, she didn’t respond to his teasing reply.
The Cooperville Cougars, wearing gold uniforms piped in black, huddled around their coach. A middle-aged woman with a true sense of fair play and a proven knack for creating winners, Coach Brown spoke to the team as a group before singling out the five starters. Finally, all the girls linked arms and gave their signature war whoop for luck.
As they jogged out onto the court with the other starters, Jessie and Jamie spotted Ben and Kitty sitting together in the stands. Smiling from ear to ear, they waved. Kitty waved back and Ben gave them the thumbs-up sign
The packed crowd set up a roar, the ref tossed the ball for the tip-off, and the game started with a fast break.
It was a hard-fought first half. The opposing team was a longtime rival from the next county, so emotions ran high. Jessie was fouled twice but made only one of her free throws, and Jamie never even came close to stealing the ball. By the time the buzzer sounded, the score was tied and the mood in the stands had reached fever pitch.
“Mmmm,” Ben sniffed the air hungrily as the teams left the court and went to their respective locker rooms. “Is that popcorn I smell?”
“The Booster Club sells in at halftime to raise money for the sport of the season.” Kitty saw Carol doling out change so her boys could buy snacks.
“I’m starved.”
“Didn’t you eat dinner on the plane?”
He made a face that she laughed at. “Would you eat mystery meat smothered in canned mushrooms?”
She remembered those times in the past when she’d fed Jessie the last piece of cheese sandwiche
d between the last two slices of bread, and sighed, “I would if I were hungry enough.”
He watched the change that came over her face with something close to self-loathing. The thought of her going without the basics—of her going to bed on an empty stomach, for cryin’ out loud!—twisted his gut into knots.
Ben slid his arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug that was part apology for the past and part promise for the future. “Let’s get some popcorn and support our local team.”
Kitty received his message loud and clear, but she really wanted to talk to Carol. “There’s something I have to do, so you go on without me.”
His stomach growled. “Are you sure?”
She grinned. “I’m positive.”
Carol was sitting to the right and down two rows. Kitty waited until Ben had left the stands before she went to sit with her friend.
When she got there, she took Carol’s hand in her own and squeezed it gently. They sat that way for a meaningful moment before Kitty asked, “Are you going to be all right?”
Carol nodded mutely as a grateful tear seeped from beneath the sunglasses she wore. She let it river down her cheek unchecked. “I am now.”
“If you don’t feel up to having Jessie spend the night, just say so and I’ll take her home with me.”
“Jamie’s cried herself to sleep two nights running. It’s time she had something to smile about.”
On the sidelines, a gaggle of seventh-grade cheerleaders made cow eyes at a passel of eighth-grade boys.
“I’m going to get a restraining order so he can’t come back.” A dry sob shook Carol’s shoulders. “I love him, but I just can’t live like this anymore. And I’m scared to death that he’s going to hurt one of the kids.”
All Kitty could do right now was lend her moral support. “If you need anything—help with the kids, a shoulder to cry on, anything—give me a call.”
“That’s really nice of you.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
