Life, Love, and a Polar Bear Tattoo

by Heather Wardell

  "I'm so glad."

  I looked down at my glass of wine, not sure what to say. He brushed his thumb lightly over the back of my hand, and a shudder tore through me. I jerked my hand away.

  "Candy," he began, but the waiter arrived right then with our salads and Kegan never finished his sentence.

  Probably just as well.

  *****

  The only bad part of the evening came when the waiter mixed up our orders as he delivered our dinners to the table. It was the right food, he just put Kegan's plate down in front of me.

  I was about to switch the plates when Kegan hissed, "You screwed up."

  The waiter flushed a deep brick red. "I'm sorry, sir, I--"

  "I don't want to hear explanations. Fix it."

  Kegan sat with his arms folded as the waiter meekly rearranged the plates and fled. I tried to catch the waiter's eye to smile him an apology, but he wouldn't look up.

  "If something like that happens at Steel," Kegan said, picking up his fork and casting a disapproving eye over his meal, "heads will roll."

  I toyed with my wine glass. "Really? Why?"

  "Why? Because people are paying for the full experience, and everything has to be perfect. I don't want my customers to have to put up with incompetence."

  "He was hardly incompetent," I said, doing my best not to sound confrontational.

  My best must not have been good enough, because Kegan put his fork down sharply on his plate and said, "Listen, Candy, I will expect my staff to do things properly. If someone does something against me once, they won't get a second chance."

  I bit my lip, not sure what to say. I didn't think the waiter had done anything against us, but Kegan clearly didn't want to discuss it any more, and what good would it do anyone for me to keep fighting?

  Kegan took a very deep breath and smiled at me. "Let's just forget it, okay? Let's talk about something else."

  "Okay," I said, eager to move on. "How are your parents?"

  He grimaced. "You sure know how to pick conversation killers."

  "I liked your parents," I protested.

  "Yeah, well, they don't like me so much right now."

  "Why not?"

  "I left law, Candy. Why do you think they might not like me?"

  "But it's what you've always wanted to do."

  He nodded. "And what they've always wanted me to do is make lots of money and give them something to brag about with their friends."

  I took a sip of my wine. I'd never thought his parents were like that, but he should know.

  "That sucks," I said.

  He gave me a bitter smile. "Totally." Then he asked me my opinion of the window treatments he'd chosen for his restaurant, and we returned to safer conversational waters.

  For a few minutes, anyhow. After we'd ordered dessert, he said, "Candy, feel free to tell me to shut up, but--"

  "Shut up."

  I laughed, but he didn't, and I sobered quickly. Stopped laughing, anyhow; we were nearing the bottom of the bottle of wine and I'd had most of it myself.

  "I was going to say," he said, "I know someone must have told you your in-laws' deaths were your fault, and I just wanted to tell you they're not."

  I stared at him. "If I'd just told you George's death wasn't your fault, would that have worked?"

  He looked confused, and I went on. "Because you just telling me that doesn't make me feel better. It was my fault."

  Kegan put his hand over mine again. A flash of heat ripped through me, strengthened by the wine, but I didn't pull away. It felt too good. "It wasn't. They were in the wrong place at--"

  "If Ian hadn't married me, they wouldn't have died."

  He looked nearly as shocked as I felt. I hadn't said it out loud before, and the words seemed to hang in the air, ugly and menacing. At last, he said, "Who told you that?"

  "It's just obvious," I said, wishing I hadn't told him.

  "But that's like saying if Ian hadn't been born they wouldn't have died. If you go back far enough, it's always someone's fault."

  "And this time it's mine."

  Kegan gripped my hand in both of his. "I can see why you think that. But only because they were out shopping for you, not because you... married Ian. That makes no sense." He paused, then went on. "I don't know Ian, but if someone said that about my wife I'd make damned sure they never said it again."

  "Yeah, but what if--" I cut myself off. I didn't want to tell him.

  "What if what?" He looked at me for a second, then his eyes widened. "Candy, who told you it was your fault because he'd married you? Was it Ian?"

  I looked down at the table, misery welling up, choking me. A tear fell, then another.

  He let go of my hand and pulled his chair around so he was sitting beside me, then wrapped his arm around my shoulders. When I turned to face him, he slid his other arm around me too, and I pressed my forehead against his shoulder. "It's not your fault," he said into my ear. "It's tragic, but it's not your fault. I can't believe he said that."

  "I don't think he meant to," I said through my tears. "It was the day they died, and he was really upset, and--"

  "I don't care when it was, he shouldn't have said it. And I can't believe you're defending him."

  I pushed myself back from Kegan. "I have to defend him, he's my husband."

  "You don't have to defend him if he says something stupid."

  "Oh, so you're telling me not to defend someone who says something stupid? Smart girl, beautiful girl? Ringing any bells?"

  We stared at each other for a second, tension building, before he said, "Okay, good point. But still..."

  More quietly, I said, "I really don't think he meant it. I know he was just upset. It was a horrible day all around."

  "But he apologized for it later, right?"

  I shook my head. "We've never talked about it."

  He frowned. "But it's been months. You know it's not your fault, right?"

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I do know it, but Ian's still right. If he hadn't married me, they wouldn't have died."

  Kegan held my gaze for a long moment, then said, "You know what, I guess that's technically true. But it's not the point."

  "Then what is the point?"

  "Do you think they were happy going out to buy that present?"

  Tears rose again, but they were different this time. "Definitely. They'd left a voice mail for Ian's brother saying how excited they were that the rug had finally been made and how they were sure I'd love it."

  Kegan took my hand again. "Do you think they'd blame you?"

  I bit my lip. No, they wouldn't. They'd never been that sort of people.

  He waited, not speaking, until I said, "No."

  "No what?"

  "No, they wouldn't blame me."

  "Where's the rug now?"

  I told him, and he said, "When you get home, bring it up from the basement."

  "I don't know," I began, but he said, "Bring it up. Enjoy it, love it, and remember them. "

  I looked into his eyes, warm and concerned, and knew he was right. I didn't know how Ian would feel about it, but I'd ask him. And if he was okay with it... "I will."

  We smiled at each other. "Thank you," I said, feeling awkward. "It does help to talk about it."

  "Didn't Larissa ever tell you any of this?"

  I licked my lips. "She doesn't know what he said."

  "But you told me," he said, giving my hand a squeeze. "I'm honored. And a little surprised, frankly."

  So was I. I explained how I hadn't wanted to color Larissa's impression of Ian, and he said, "Well, I still think he shouldn't have said it, and he definitely should have apologized, but I'm really only worried about you. Are you feeling any better?"

  "You know, I am," I said, and he grinned at me.

  "Glad to hear it. Would dessert help?"

  "Dessert always helps," I said, feeling suddenly giddy.

  *****

  After dinner was over, we had a little tussle
to see who would pay, which he won on account of his longer arms.

  "Anyhow," he said, pulling a platinum credit card out of his wallet and handing it to the waiter, "I hounded you until you said yes to tonight, so it's the least I can do."

  "You didn't hound me," I said, even though he sort of had.

  "Then you wanted to come?"

  How to answer that? "You're a client. Lou expects me to make the clients happy."

  "So you go out for dinner with clients a lot?"

  "No," I admitted. "You're the first."

  Kegan shot me a wink. I winked back. I'd never done that before, and we burst into laughter.

  After we'd calmed down a bit, he said, "Shall we go?" I nodded, and he followed me out of the restaurant. I found myself swishing my hips as I walked. He was watching. I could feel it.

  Outside in the soft half-dark of early evening, he turned to me. "Thank you. That was wonderful. Are you sure I can't drive you home?"

  "No, the subway's right here," I said, not wanting to be alone in the car with him. There were so many thoughts and feelings running around in my head that I could almost feel them crashing into each other, sending each other flying. Nothing seemed to be the right thing to say, or to do. "Well, I guess I'd better get going."

  Ignoring me, Kegan tipped my chin up so I was looking straight into his eyes. Without letting me go, he moved closer. I watched him like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming transport truck.

  He's going to kiss me.

  At the very last second, some remnant of sanity stopped its frantic rushing around in my mind and took over control of my body. I turned my head a little to the side, and his lips brushed my cheek. Even that contact sent shivers through me.

  Kegan released me, stepped back, and smiled into my eyes. He didn't seem surprised that I'd turned away. Maybe he hadn't really been going to kiss me on the mouth. No, surely not.

  "Good night, Candy. Bring that rug up."

  "I will. Good night."

  I stood on the pavement, watching him walk away, until an annoyed "Excuse me" cut into my daze. I moved out of the restaurant's doorway to allow the aggravated man to enter, and pulled my gaze away from Kegan with an effort. An enormous effort. Kegan never looked back, even though my eyes must have been burning holes in his back.

  I turned and headed for the subway, lost in thought. He had changed. At that moment, if I'd been asked for my husband's name, I might not have remembered I was married.

  And I wasn't at all sure Kegan remembered either.

  To: ianw@buildaid.com

  From: ninjacatrocks@hotmail.com

  Subject: Lou-Lou catchoo

  Lou is a pain in the buttocks. He kept giving me more and more work, and it was all "my top priority". Bleah. Can I quit this job and be a kept woman? ;)

  I'm glad the picture got through okay.

  Ian, I'm thinking of bringing the rug your parents bought me for Christmas up from the basement. Are you okay with that?

  Candice

  Tuesday, August 16th

  At about ten o'clock, I was buried in the research for the multiple projects that Lou kept forcing on me and was desperate for a distraction. Anything would have been better than work, really. A fire in the office, a hostage situation (I could picture myself shouting, "Please, take me! Take me! Save me from this place!"), a gas leak, whatever was available.

  Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo!

  I glared at my coworkers, who all sounded off again just to annoy me, and checked to see who'd sent me the new email. I half expected it to be Kegan, but no such luck.

  To: canw@sapphireinteriordesign.com

  From: larissabobissa@hotmail.com

  Subject: Gimme presents!

  Hey, Candy-ice. In case you've forgotten, tomorrow's my birthday. Just wanted to make sure we were still on for dinner at 6:30 at Setherwood. You said you'd be there, and I said you'd be square.

  Hehehe.

  L

  I fired back a quick response, saying that I would of course be there but that she'd lost any chance of a present by calling me square, and then turned my attention reluctantly to my overflowing inbox.

  I didn't get very far, though, since another email arrived a minute or two later. I skimmed it, then knocked on Lou's door.

  "Kegan's just asked me to meet him at the restaurant. Is that okay with you?"

  Lou thought for a second. "Should be fine. Can you make sure you're back by two, though? Leanne is coming in for her first meeting with me and I'd like you to meet her."

  Another new client. I hoped she'd be less stressful for me than the last one. "Sure, Lou, see you then."

  *****

  After the near-kiss of the night before, I felt strange about seeing Kegan, but when I found him in the main restaurant area surrounded by paint chips of every possible shade of green, I couldn't help but smile at his air of utter confusion. He looked up and smiled back.

  "They all look the same to me, Candy. I think the insides of my eyes are going to be green forever. How am I supposed to choose?"

  I pulled up a chair and picked up a few paint chips. "Where exactly is this going?"

  He gestured to the room around us.

  I frowned. "Didn't Lou pick a color for you, or at least give a few suggestions? I'm sure he put them in the plan."

  "He did, but I want something richer than what he picked. The floor in here will be the lighter hardwood, so I want something on the walls that has a real punch to it."

  I searched through the chips until I found a deep kelly green, a forest green, and a beautiful teal. "What about these?"

  Kegan took the chips and looked at them for a moment in silence. He held them up one at a time in front of him, and I realized he was looking from me to the paint chips and back again.

  "This one," he said, holding out the teal. "What do you think?"

  "It's gorgeous."

  He held up the paint chip again, leaning toward me until the card was nearly touching my face. "It suits you."

  I raised my eyebrows. "I suit paint?"

  The paint chip's corner touched my cheek. "The color suits you. It makes your eyes glow."

  I pulled away, not at all sure the paint was the glow inducer.

  *****

  Even though Lou had already picked paint colors for the rest of the place, Kegan insisted we go through them again. He changed a few to colors only slightly different from Lou's original choices and left the rest as Lou had suggested. Once we were finished, he said, "What are you doing for lunch?"

  "Grabbing something on the way back to the office. Lou needs me there at two, so--"

  "So that gives us lots of time to go out."

  "No, because I have tons of work to do today."

  "By two?"

  I shook my head. "No, just by the end of the day. I need to be there to meet the new client."

  "Another new client," Kegan said with mock sorrow. "I've been replaced."

  "You're the old client now."

  He clapped a hand over his heart and staggered backward. "You're killing me, Candy. How can you be so cruel?"

  I gave him my best innocent look and patted him on the arm. "It's not my fault you're the old client."

  "Old before my time. Tragic. Do a good deed and take this senior citizen to lunch."

  I wavered. "I have to be back by two."

  "Not a problem. We old guys need a nap in the afternoon. I really want to try out a new restaurant, Candy. Come with me."

  *****

  Soft jazz music was the only sound in the car. I'd never been in a car as quiet as Kegan's; I could barely hear the road noise. I felt isolated and enclosed, and in over my head.

  We drove for about ten minutes before Kegan stopped for gas. When he left the car, I felt curiosity overwhelming my nervousness. As subtly as I could, I looked around. The car was spotless. The open storage area between the seats held a few jazz CDs, none by anyone I recognized.

  Kegan went into the gas station to pay, and I po
pped open the glove box, knowing I shouldn't snoop but just too curious. Inside, along with the usual car manual and paperwork, were more CDs, all of which I did recognize. 80's rock. I closed the glove box and sat, pondering.

  Did Kegan really like both this strange modern jazz and 80's music? It seemed like an odd combination. And if he didn't... why the jazz? It did suit the car far more than the rock would have, and it also suited the style of his restaurant. Was he remaking himself in a new image? And if so, who was he underneath?

  Lost in thought, I embarrassed myself by giving a little squeak when he opened the door.

  "Sorry, Candy, didn't mean to scare you."

  I smiled, and thought of insisting again that he call me Candice. That was part of my new image. Somehow, though, it was nice to have that link with my past. Maybe Kegan would like a link with his.

  "Do you... um, do you have any music other than jazz?"

  He started the car, and said, "You don't like it?"

  "Not really my favorite," I said, tacking on, "I prefer 80's music."

  He turned to look at me. "No, sorry. I can turn it off if you want, or you can try the radio."

  "No, that's okay. It kind of suits the car."

  "I think so too," he said, smiling at me before pulling the car onto the road again.

  *****

  When I arrived at the office at three, I forced myself to go straight to Lou's office. He was livid.

  "Leanne just left, Candice. She stayed as long as she could, but she had another meeting. What happened?"

  Kegan happened. "I'm really sorry, Lou. Kegan insisted on seeing a new restaurant, and the service was slow. We didn't get out of there until nearly two-thirty."

  "You should have called."

  "I know. I'm sorry."

  I hadn't even thought of it. Kegan and I had discussed everything from religion to our favorite television shows to the scuba diving lessons he was going to take, and I had thought we'd barely been there an hour when he'd looked at his watch and said, "Candy, you're dead."