She liked power—total, absolute power. But she also liked to win. “Well, I’ll take her for my partner,” Pat said.
“Hot dog,” Douglas said with a laugh. “That means none of us has got to go with her.”
“None of the rest of you guys want to win,” Pat said.
There was a lot of snickering, but Trisha seemed to ignore it as she helped the kids pick partners. When they were all paired up, she came back over to him.
“Why don’t you give the team a pep talk while we’re waiting?” she said to him.
Her smile was warm, too warm actually, and felt as if it could make flowers grow in the coldest regions. He turned away from her with a measure of relief. She was one dangerous lady and he was going to have to be careful the rest of this weekend.
“All right, guys,” Pat said. “Listen up.”
They gathered in a reluctant semicircle before him; Trisha hovered behind the kids, a confident, knowing smile on her face. She was so sure she knew him. Although, after all the yakking he had done last night, she probably did. Probably knew his Social Security number, what size briefs he wore and the name of the first girl he kissed. He stiffened his resolve and thought back to the speeches his football coaches used to give.
“In a few minutes, the games will start,” Pat said. “And I want us to fight hard every minute of the time. If you want to win, you gotta pay the price. You can’t quit—losers quit. And I don’t want to ride back home with no losers.”
“Ah, excuse me.” Trisha pushed in front of him, giving him a good glare as she did. “What Mr. Stuart means is that he wants you to do your best, but most of all he wants you to have fun. That’s what these games are all about. If you win some medals, that’s good. But if you don’t, that’s good, too. All you have to do is try your best. Do that and everyone will be proud of you. Okay?”
“Okay,” the kids mumbled in reply.
“Great speech,” Trisha murmured as she turned toward him. “Let’s get them all feeling inadequate if they don’t win.”
Before Pat could reply, Angie stepped in between them. “Here’s the numbers, Miss Stewart,” she said, handing Trisha a stack of adhesive-backed labels with numbers on them.
Angie took two numbers off the top. “Mr. Stuart will help me with mine,” she said.
As Trisha turned to help the other children, Angie indicated with her head that they should step away from the group. Pat followed her, carefully.
“I hear you’re my partner,” Angie said.
He pulled the backing off her number and stuck it on her shirt. “That okay with you?”
She shrugged. “You know all that stuff Miss Stewart was saying?”
“Yeah.” Pat put his own number on his chest. “What about it?”
“It’s a bunch of pig barf.”
He looked at her. At her soft baby face and long eyelashes, but mostly he saw the girl’s eyes—hard as black diamonds.
“I want a whole bunch of medals to take back to school when it starts. And I’m going to wear them every day.”
The girl’s intensity mirrored his own; he felt a sudden kinship with her. He didn’t bother trying to tell her that she was somebody, with or without a medal. He knew what he would have thought about such nonsense twenty years ago.
“Okay, partner.” He stuck his hand out. “Let’s go out and kick butt.”
She took his hand in hers. “Deal.”
They hurried back to the others just as someone blew a whistle for the racers to line up.
“Come on, guys,” Pat called to the other kids. “Let’s show ‘em that west siders are winners.”
Trisha looked over at them, her face showing concern, but he just turned away. Winning did more for your self-esteem than any schmaltzy pep talk.
* * *
Trisha just shook her head as Pat stopped to give her a hand across the short log bridge. A couple of girls ahead of them on the trail looked back and giggled.
“That’s okay,” Trisha told him as she lightly crossed over the gentle stream. “I have a good sense of balance. And I’ve always been good at this wilderness stuff, too.”
“A woman of many talents,” he said.
Trisha looked at him, but he had turned away, staring at something off the forest path. She couldn’t tell what he meant. He was in a strange mood this afternoon. A strange mood that morning, too, actually.
First, he’d been avoiding her, staying at the cabin to patch holes in the screen doors even though whole swarms of bugs could get in around the doors themselves. Then, when he’d shown up for the races, he was all charged up and ready for battle, game face on and attitude in place as if he’d been going to some serious competition. The hurting, gentle man she’d caught a glimpse of last night was buried so deep, she wondered whether she had dreamed him up.
She just walked alongside next to him. “My talents as a kid were the balance beam and ballet,” she said. “You know, anything that required not falling on my face. My mother said my big feet kept me from tipping over.”
He glanced down at her feet. “They don’t look very big.”
She felt stupid then, as if she’d been fishing for compliments. “And I’ve always liked hiking and skimming stones across a pond—those kinds of things. But I hated the Girl Scout trips where we’d collect moldy leaves or dead bugs, or something else stinky or slimy.”
“At least they were outside where you could avoid them.”
Guilt washed over her then. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean anything.”
He turned to frown at her; that was plain even in the dappled shade of the trees. “Didn’t mean what?”
She shrugged. “You know. Remind you of your childhood.”
His frown deepened but his gaze went to the kids hiking ahead of them. “We had few stinky, slimy or moldy things in my house as a kid unless my brother or I brought them in. I was thinking more about my house now. Every time I start a new project, I find things I’d rather not.”
“Oh.”
She took a deep breath and let her own gaze wander. It was wonderfully cool here in the woods, with only a few mosquitoes to pester them. Ahead of them snaked a line of kids, with other counselors sprinkled among them and a few naturalists pointing out the different types of trees and bushes.
She should be relaxed, Trisha knew, and enjoying herself. Instead, she was acting like a jerk. Ever since last night, she was having trouble seeing Pat as just another of the club’s volunteers. In some ways, he seemed as needy as her kids, and that had awoken a dangerous warmth in her heart. And his distant behavior this morning had only made it worse.
Good thing they would be heading home tomorrow. Otherwise, her great sense of balance would be totally gone. She wasn’t looking to take on any more challenges, six-foot ones or otherwise. Her life was just fine the way it was.
The trail widened and Trisha quickened her steps to put herself by Pat’s side. “This is a real great experience for the kids,” she said. “Look at all these plants and the wildlife. It gives the kids a whole new perspective on the world we live in.”
“I don’t know,” Pat said. “Douglas is still convinced there are bears here someplace. I think he’s hoping to see one eat somebody. Angie, probably.”
He turned as he spoke, his voice teasing and laugh filled, his smile the type that could lure the mermaids from the sea. Trisha felt a sudden tug at her heartstrings, a sudden yearning to have more in her life than work and her cats. But then just as quickly her heart shied away from the idea. She needed a man she could lean on, someone she could trust, but how did she know who that man was? Without a crystal ball to see into the future, how could she know if this man, or any man, would be there for her through thick and thin?
The path had brought them to a low-lying bog area, and the whole group had paused as a counselor explained how the bog cleaned impurities from the water and about the kinds of animals that found a home there. Angie had pushed her way up to the front,
dragging Rulli along with her. Douglas was at the back, looking bored and ready to wander away.
Trisha frowned as she kept one eye on the children and half listened to the lecture. The kids were her priority and what she needed to focus on. What she needed to take care of. And that was just what she’d do. “Angie was certainly wound-up this morning.”
“Yeah, the kids did well at the races.”
“I wasn’t talking about the results—I was talking about Angie’s attitude. She acted like it was life or death, not just a few silly races.”
“Maybe it wasn’t so silly for her.”
The counselor up ahead had finished her talk and was leading the kids on. Angie had the cattail that the counselor had passed around, carrying it as if it was a prize. Trisha felt a sudden rush of concern for the girl, wishing there was some way she could shelter her from the world even for a short time.
“And you didn’t help things much.” Trisha turned to Pat.
“Me? What did I do?”
He looked startled with her sudden attack, but she felt only a slight twinge of guilt. Taking care of the kids, helping them, that was what she was supposed to be doing, not mooning over Pat’s voice or smile.
“What did I tell you before the games started? I told you to encourage them, not pressure them.” She paused a moment to glare at him. “They’re kids, for heaven’s sake. Those games were just supposed to be fun.”
“Who’s to say they weren’t?” he asked.
“Angie’s just far too competitive,” Trisha went on. “You should have toned that down, not encouraged it. She’s got to realize that she can’t win all the time.”
“I’m sure she knows that,” Pat said, his tone dry. “She’s not stupid.”
“No, she’s not, but she has to learn which battles are the ones that matter.” Trisha stopped walking to face Pat. “Look, I know these kids. I’ve been with them for four years now. And you may think Angie’s a real tough kid, but actually she’s very fragile. That determination of hers covers up a lot of fear.”
Pat’s eyes betrayed his impatience. “I know that a lot better than you. I’ve been there, remember? You haven’t.”
His words were spark enough to start her swinging—verbally at least. The kids had moved on, stopping a ways up the path to count the rings in a wide old tree stump. Trisha took advantage of their distance to let off some of her steam.
“Just because you grew up on the west-side and I didn’t, it doesn’t mean you know these kids better than me,” Trisha snapped. “They aren’t exactly like you.”
“Nobody is exactly like anybody else.”
“No, but you’re using your own experiences as if they match up with theirs.”
“They probably come closer than yours,” Pat pointed out. “How many of them are in gymnastics and ballet, or Girl Scouts, for that matter?”
How dare he try to make her feel inadequate because her mother had been able to give her a few extras. A fly buzzed around her face and she brushed at it impatiently. “So my childhood was different. I’m still the one here for them, day in and day out.”
His eyes grew distant, as if the shutters had been slammed shut. “Like I wasn’t for my brother. Is that what you’re saying?”
Her heart faltered for a moment, and her anger vanished in the horror at the way he’d taken her words. But she refused to back down just because she’d accidentally stumbled onto his guilt. Her experience with the kids had taught her that was the worst thing she could do.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” she snapped. “I’m saying that after four years, I know these kids and what they need better than you do after two days. And I know that Angie’s self-esteem is very fragile. She needs to know that her worth isn’t measured by her medals.”
“And how do you propose to convince her of that?”
“Through her schoolwork,” Trisha said. “She’s an excellent student.”
“But doesn’t feel accepted by her classmates.”
“More because of her tendency to fight all the time than anything else.”
“Hey, you guys,” Rulli called as he came running back down the path. “Are you lost or something?”
Trisha bit back the rest of her anger, forcing it into a side pocket in her mind. Theirs was a personal battle, not one to be aired in front of Rulli or any of the kids. She smiled at the boy. “We were just talking.”
“Douglas said you got eaten by bears.”
“Not hardly,” Trisha said. She pulled him to her in a gentle hug. “But it was brave of you to come look for us.”
“Angie made me,” he said. “We’re going to play softball and she’s captain.”
“What a surprise,” Pat muttered.
Trisha just gave him a look and turned back to Rulli. “Well, we’d better get going, then. We don’t want to be late for the game.”
“Or we may wish the bears had gotten us,” Pat said.
Rulli gave him an odd look. “That’s what Angie said.”
“Sounds like we think alike,” Pat said.
“That’s scary,” Rulli said.
“It sure is,” Pat agreed under his breath.
They said little else as they followed the path back to the campground, but Trisha carried a frown of confusion that had deep roots in her soul. With each step over the soft, damp ground, her anger and annoyance lessened.
Pat was just like her kids in a lot of ways—presenting a tough, macho image that just barely covered the pain lying below the surface. And if she could help the Angies and Rullis of the west side, maybe she could help the Pats, too. It didn’t mean she had to get involved with him, not in a romantic way. She could just help him see there was more to life than being tough.
* * *
Trisha held her breath, hoping that the squeaking of the springs wouldn’t wake the girls. The even breathing that echoed throughout the little cabin told her all were still in snoozeland. She sighed.
The girls didn’t seemed bothered, but it sure seemed hot and stuffy in the cabin to Trisha. No matter how she lay, she just couldn’t feel cool. She pressed the light button on her wristwatch; it was 1:20 in the morning. She turned over, settling back down with a sigh.
She certainly was tired enough to sleep. She’d had an active day—arts and crafts, the Olympic games, the long walk in the woods, softball and swimming and then square dancing and a movie after dinner. Maybe she was overtired.
Except every time she closed her eyes, she saw Pat, and that stirred up all her mixed feelings about him. Their softball team hadn’t won their game this afternoon and Angie had been very upset, but Pat had pulled the girl aside for what appeared to be a heart-to-heart talk. When Angie had returned to the group, she’d done a passable job of hiding her disappointment while she congratulated everyone on playing a good game. Trisha had been impressed—maybe Pat knew these kids better than Trisha had given him credit for—but she’d never quite had a chance to tell him. Mary had been stung by a bee, then Douglas had an upset stomach, and before Trisha knew it, the kids were going to bed and all her chances to talk to Pat were gone. Her head told her it was just as well, but her heart didn’t want to listen.
Trisha turned over in bed again, but knew it wasn’t going to help. She needed some fresh air. She eased herself out of bed, glad she was wearing a T-shirt and shorts, and padded across the room. Once out into the breezeway, she paused a moment, letting her lungs fill with the pine-scented lake air. Her head cleared in a matter of moments, but she wasn’t ready to go back inside.
She would have liked to walk down by the lake, but she shouldn’t go that far from the cabin. The little bench just out in front would do fine.
Trisha stepped out onto the bare dirt, savoring the cool ground on her bare feet, and had gone several yards before she stopped, realizing that there already was somebody sitting on the bench.
“Hi,” Pat said.
“Pat? What are you doing out here?”
“Sitting,” he replie
d.
She walked over and stood in front of him. “You must have awful good ears,” Trisha said. “I thought I was moving pretty quietly.”
“I guess I sensed your presence rather than heard anything.” He laughed. “It’s a sixth sense that all us west-siders develop.”
A certain hardness resided in his voice and Trisha wondered what ghosts he’d brought out to sit with him in the dark of the night.
“It’s kind of hard to explain,” he said.
“You don’t have to,” she said. “I see it in my kids.”
“Yeah,” he drawled. “I imagine you would.”
A light breeze blew in off the lake and Trisha breathed deeply, burrowing her toes in the dirt. “Couldn’t you sleep?”
“Nope. You?”
“No.”
They paused a moment, some animal calling out from over on the other side of the lake and another answering. Closer at hand, insects chirped and the breeze rustled the leaves on the trees. It was dark here, darker than night in the city, but it was a soft, protective darkness. One in which a person could actually count the stars.
“Want to sit down?” Pat asked.
“Sure.”
She felt him move as she sat down next to him. He put an arm behind her on the back of the bench.
“It’s a little tight,” he said as he settled his arm near her shoulders.
“Yeah.” She’d better go beyond these one-word replies before he decided that she was some pull toy. “I wanted to tell you how impressed I was with the way you handled Angie after the softball game. Whatever you said to her seemed to have worked.”
“I just have this way with women,” he said with a laugh.
Trisha laughed, too, though her heart was racing with silly abandon as his arm brushed lightly against her back. “Nevertheless,” she said with a touch more seriousness, “I’m sorry for blowing up at you earlier. You do understand the kids in a way I never will.”
He took his arm from the back of the bench and leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. She felt he’d moved farther away than that and she wanted somehow to call him back.
“I’m the one that should apologize,” he said. “That crack about gymnastics and ballet was uncalled-for. You do a wonderful job with the kids and nothing can take away from that.”
Kisses And Kids (Congratulations Series #1) Page 7
