When Mattie drew within two feet of Joe, she stopped abruptly, bared her teeth at him and snarled ferociously.
Joe was so stunned, he simply stood there, watching her incredulously. Finally he found his voice. "Uh...Mattie?"
Mattie growled again for good measure.
"What the hell?" Joe muttered resignedly, and growled back.
Mattie feinted to the left, then the right and Joe followed, bending low for a gentle tackle. It was just the opening Mattie was waiting for. She sprang agilely into the air, planted one foot on Joe's shoulder and leapfrogged over his back in fine fashion on her way to the goal. Once there, she spiked the ball expertly and assumed a pose of lofty nonchalance.
"I scored," she pointed out with a great deal of gentleness, leaning against the tree.
Joe, from his vantage point on the ground, with a footprint on his back, eyed her disbelievingly. "Good Lord," he muttered blankly. "She scored."
Mattie danced back downfield to stand over Joe's flattened form. "Let's play again!"
Joe picked himself up from the cold hard ground in silence. "Okay," he conceded finally. "You play quarterback."
Mattie nodded agreeably, feeling incredibly calm and competent with one score under her belt, and ran to retrieve the ball. "Go out for the pass, Joe."
It was Joe's turn to trot downfield and turn for the throw. The ball bounced about five feet in front of him, and he caught it on the run. When he faced Mattie he stopped, shrugged and roared like a bad-tempered lion. Mattie was silent for a moment, then burst into peels of laughter. Grasping her sides, she fell to the ground and rolled with hilarity.
Joe studied her in exasperation. "Okay, sweetheart." He dropped to the ground beside her. "Let's establish some rules. No more growling."
Mattie nodded solemnly, tears of mirth running down her cheeks.
Joe bounded to his feet and reached down to pull Mattie up, but she ignored his hand and got up herself.
"You know, Joe, you were right," she observed happily.
Joe raised one eyebrow expressively, pretending he hadn't noticed the evasion of his touch. "How's that?"
Mattie smiled demurely. "This is a fun game."
Joe shook his head, gentle affection in his eyes. "You are a nut."
"But a winning nut," she pointed out mischievously.
Joe's eyes gleamed purposefully. "We'll just see about that. Go out for another pass." Joe pumped the ball once, then dropped his arm. "And, Mattie—"
She stopped running and turned to face him.
"Remember... no growling."
Mattie stuck out her tongue. "Spoilsport."
Joe laughed and threw the ball. Hard.
"Uhf." She trapped the ball against her ribs and wheezed for breath, shooting Joe a threatening glare.
Joe smiled innocently and shrugged with a "who me?" gesture. "You're playing with the big boys now."
"Big boys," Mattie muttered beneath her breath. "Huh! Big boys."
Charging downfield, Mattie came upon Joe swiftly. When she was mere inches from him, she faked to the right, but Joe was on to her and followed her dive to the left.
Sweeping Mattie, ball and all, into his arms, Joe began to trot toward his own end zone with her. He ignored Mattie's struggles as part of the game and carried her triumphantly to the pecan tree that served as his own goal.
Whirling around in a circle, he smiled down into her face. "There! Now I scored a touch-up. What do you think of apples...?"
The abject terror in Mattie's eyes stole the words from his throat.
"Mattie?" His arms tightened in instinctive protection, and Mattie flinched violently.
"Let me go, please." Her voice was achingly taut, emotionless, but her lips were trembling. She seemed to be shrinking into herself, disappearing behind a wall Joe could only feel.
Gently he lowered her feet to the ground and released her from his arms. The football, forgotten by both, bounced once, then rolled to the right.
"I have to go home now." Mattie told him carefully, not meeting his questioning green gaze.
Joe's hands dropped awkwardly to his sides, and his eyes focused on her averted face. "No," he protested. "No, Mattie. Don't go. Talk to me."
Mattie shook her head jerkily. "I... I can't, Joe—"
"It's because I picked you up, isn't it?" The insistent tone cut across her stammered words, demanding an answer.
But Mattie was incapable of answering. She was choking on her own fear. And to think, she derided half-hysterically, not twenty minutes ago she had mentally compared Joe.to a brother! He was a man—a strong, hard, frightening man. First, last and always. And he could hurt her without even thinking about it, without even noticing. The way he had carried her in his arms...
"Isn't it?" Joe's insistent voice drew Mattie's terrified attention to him. He took an instinctive step forward, then stopped abruptly as Mattie backed away like a hunted animal.
"Mattie, talk to me," he pleaded. "I want to understand."
This is Joe, Mattie reminded herself sternly. Her friend, Joe. Don't run away. Don't lose... his friendship.
"You scared me." Mattie's voice, when it came, was small and rusty, and her eyes evaded his.
"I was only playing," Joe told her carefully, desperately wary.
"I—I didn't know... you were so strong."
"Mattie, I'm a man. And a professional football player. I have to be strong." Joe felt ridiculous, defending his very masculinity, until suddenly a thought occurred to him. "Did I hurt you?" he demanded, concerned. She was so small, so delicate. Had he hurt her without realizing it?
Mattie thought about it for a moment, then shook her head jerkily. "Noooo," she conceded doubtfully, confused. "But you would have. Touching always hurts."
"Physically?" Joe probed, intent. "Do you honestly think I would ever physically harm you, Mattie?" There was a curious, naked vulnerability in his eyes, but Mattie did not look up to see it. She was wrestling with her own demons.
"I don't know, do I?" she broke out in self-directed anger. "There are all kinds of pain."
"Let's concentrate on the physical, then," Joe suggested quietly. His large hands rose to echo his words, cupping her face gently. "No..." he soothed as Mattie tried to shy away. "No, I'm not hurting you, am I?"
Mattie trembled delicately beneath his touch and forced herself to remain still, breathing shallowly. "No," she admitted, her voice strained.
Joe nodded, his eyes as impersonal as if he were conducting a scientific experiment. "Good. And this?" His thumbs moved to caress the corners of her mouth. Mattie instinctively drew her bottom lip between her teeth and gnawed at it nervously.
"Sweetheart," Joe murmured softly. "Don't do that." His thumb brushed against her pearly teeth and across her jaw.
"It's—it's starting to hurt," she lied breathlessly, her gaze locked on his.
Joe's fingers drifted lower, gliding against the delicate skin of Mattie's neck caressingly. "Where does it hurt, Mattie?" he probed, his eyes losing their distant expression, warming and softening in a way that oddly reassured her.
"My...my stomach," Mattie answered hesitantly, trying to identify the ache that was centered in some deep, unfamiliar part of her.
Joe smiled quietly. "Your stomach? I'm not even touching you there."
Mattie shifted restlessly. "Not my stomach, exactly," she admitted vaguely. "But—somewhere."
"What kind of hurting?" Joe asked, his eyes serious, but still with the warm gleam lurking just below the surface.
Mattie was aware that his hands continued to move on her body lightly, drifting from her shoulders and down the length of her back soothingly.
"It kind of... aches," she murmured distractedly.
Joe's hands slid softly between them, gliding gently over her rib cage, his fingers delineating each bone separately. "Where exactly did you say it.. .ached?" His voice was growing progressively huskier, but Mattie, in her dazed state of seduced serenity, barely noticed.
"I don't know," she managed blankly.
Joe's hands settled just beneath her breasts. "Here?"
"No," Mattie answered weakly. "Lower."
Joe's hands inched down her rib cage to settle on the slight swell of her abdomen. "Here?"
"Lower," she whispered uncertainly, dazed.
But when Joe's hands began a silken descent, Mattie panicked. "No!" she protested wildly, wrenching herself from his touch. "Don't. Oh, please don't...!"
Joe backed away carefully, his hands at his sides. "Mat-tie, what are you running from?" The question surprised Mattie as it tumbled from his lips and she jumped, despite the steady, soothing tone.
"Running?" she scoffed nervously. "I'm not even moving."
"Not physically," he agreed admonishingly. "But here, Mattie," he tapped her temple lightly but drew back immediately when she flinched. "Here, I can see you putting a great distance between yourself and the rest of the world. And in your eyes," Joe shook his head sadly. "I can see the walls go up. Every time I start to get close to you, you pull away."
"I don't like to be touched," Mattie defended tightly, on uncertain and sensitive ground.
"I know that. And we'll talk about it later."
"That's what you think, buster," Mattie mumbled beneath her breath, but Joe ignored her.
"But I was talking about a different kind of touching, and you know it."
"I don't like to be touched in any way," she warned him forbiddingly, chin defiant.
"You don't like to be touched—or you're afraid to be touched?" Joe demanded perceptively.
"I'm not afraid of anything," Mattie insisted with childish bravado. "But even if I were, not liking and being afraid are the same thing, aren't they? If you're afraid of something, you don't like it."
Joe shook his head at that convoluted piece of logic. "Oh no, Mattie. I won't let you get away with that one. Many times the things we fear are those we like—or need—the most. It's human nature."
Mattie felt cornered by the gentle, nonjudgmental logic and backpedaled furiously.
"Nevertheless, I don't like to be touched."
"Mattie..." Joe's voice was gentle, but his hands were trembling. "Friends touch. It's part of the friendship. I.. .care for you. You can't believe I would ever hurt you."
"I've never had a friend like you," she admitted hesitantly, wanting so badly to believe. "I don't know much about it."
With a solemn look on his face, Joe moved his hands to cup her face. "Lesson one, then. Friends touch—and it doesn't hurt, sweetheart. If it does, you have only to say one word—one word, Mattie—and I'll stop touching. Okay?"
"I'll try, Joe," Mattie's voice was tight. "But—"
"Trying is enough, Mattie. Right now, it's everything." His hand moved to gently brush a strand of hair from her flushed cheek. "Sometimes you seem so young," he murmured, almost to himself.
"Sometimes I feel young," Mattie replied, shrugging, carefully moving away from his touch.
Joe's hands dropped to his side. "And other times?" he probed.
Mattie drifted away, her answer muffled. "Other times I feel as old as the earth... and as dead as those trees."
It wasn't a dramatic, practiced line. The statement was curiously flat, emotionless, weary. Joe was struck by the melancholy of an unmistakable truth.
He moved to stand behind her, a beckoning support, but he did not touch her. "Those trees aren't dead, Mattie. They're just in hiding against the winter. When spring comes, they'll be bigger and stronger than ever. Stronger because they survived the winter."
Mattie turned to meet his eyes intently. "When the spring comes."
In the days and weeks that followed, Joe learned a lot about Mattie. They spent a great deal of time together—in between his practice sessions and Mattie's photography assignments—building on their friendship. They both treated it as a precious flower blooming out of season and requiring all the loving nourishment they could give. Each day, each hour, each minute they were together, Joe discovered another piece of the puzzle that was Mattie Grey.
Mattie was enjoying the movie they'd rented hugely... until Superman invited Lois Lane to his place. Joe chuckled uproariously, not noticing Mattie's sudden discomfort or the way her hand froze in the depths of the bowl of popcorn that lay between them as they sprawled on her living room floor. They had decided to spend a quiet evening at home. Making the popcorn had been Joe's idea and it had been fun. Half of it still decorated the kitchen floor as evidence of the food fight he had initiated.
And now Superman was putting the moves on Lois....
From Mattie's point of view, the evening was all downhill from there. She squirmed restlessly as Superman baked a souffle with his X-ray vision, opened a bottle of champagne without benefit of a corkscrew and exchanged a hot blue gaze with Lois as a prelude to seduction. When Lois excused herself to change into something more comfortable, Mattie gave up all pretense of composure. Pushing a pillow over her face, she muttered a muffled, "Oh, my God."
Joe's eyes shifted from the screen to study her question-ingly. "Mattie? Is there something wrong?"
Mattie gulped a deep, calming breath and pulled the pillow from her face. "I think I'll go—make some more popcorn!" she said desperately, grabbing the half-full bowl between them without meeting his confused gaze.
She bolted for the safety of the kitchen, thankfully missing the blatantly intimate gaze Superman directed toward his bed as he led Lois away. Joe missed it, too. His eyes were following Mattie thoughtfully.
After a moment of consideration Joe ejected the tape and trailed Mattie into the kitchen. He found her standing at the wide open refrigerator door, favoring a carton of milk with an intense scrutiny.
"Is it whispering the secrets of the universe?"
Joe's drawl from the doorway caused Mattie to jerk around in fear, slamming the door on her fingers.
"Damn!" she muttered feelingly, prying her abused hand from the door and studying her fingers in an effort to avoid Joe's probing eyes. "I was checking the expiration date of the carton," she lied blatantly, vaguely amazed at her own ability to prevaricate.
Joe's mouth twisted with distaste. "Milk and popcorn do not go together."
Privately Mattie couldn't agree more, but sometimes, she decided in muddled defiance, it's better to cut off your nose and bite your face. "It's a wonderful taste sensation," she insisted stoutly. She poured a tall glass of milk and grabbed a large handful of popcorn. Somehow, the two substances landed in her mouth almost simultaneously, and Mattie choked awfully.
"Argh!"
"I thought you said it was a wonderful taste sensation," Joe remarked clinically, after Mattie had finally regained control of herself.
"Not," Mattie answered loftily, "when the milk is sour." She dumped her glass into the sink and immediately followed it with the carton's perfectly fresh contents.
Joe fired a broadside. "How do you like the movie?" Mattie reacted with great subtlety by dropping the half-full carton into the sink and taking a bath in milk.
"You don't like the movie," Joe interpreted sadly, though his eyes were laughing.
"It's very entertaining," Mattie managed blithely, brushing a drop of milk from her eyelid.
Joe nodded solemnly and murmured, "I was kind of hoping we could finish that chess game we started yesterday. But if you're really enjoying the movie..." He trailed off understandingly.
"No!" Mattie all but shouted her denial, then calmed herself with effort. "I mean, no. Of course we can play chess instead. I guess you've seen this film before."
"Yes," Joe lied. "But if you'd rather watch it—"
"I'd rather play chess," Mattie insisted in desperation, missing the tenderness in Joe's eyes. "Really."
"Great." Joe brightened, leading her from the kitchen. "As I recall, your queen was in imminent danger of being captured-"
Mattie turned to face Joe haughtily. "My queen is gonna stomp all over your face," she informed him with chilling superiori
ty.
Joe laughed harder than he did when Superman asked Lois to his place... and promptly lost the match.
Sometimes the things Joe learned about Mattie brought a fierce tide of joy. And sometimes he ached so much to hold her and chase the shadows away that he felt a physical pain inside of him.
Mattie ostensibly studied the bare branches of the trees and the boisterous children dancing on the grass around them in the park, then sneaked another glance at Joe. He was still doing it.
"Uh...Joe?"
"Hmm?" Joe was distracted.
"Are you all right?" Mattie was concerned.
"Sure."
Silence, then, "Are you in pain?"
That brought his head around quickly to meet the solemn expression on Mattie's face.
"You were making such funny faces," she explained doubtfully.
Joe looked abashed, a little boy caught red-handed playing doctor with the girl next door. Mattie was intrigued.
"Look at that little girl!" he burst out defensively, throwing out a hand to indicate a grave-faced three-year-old on the edge of the sand pit.
Mattie looked. The child was, indeed, standing away from the rest of the lively crowd of children in the park. Her eyes were focused on Joe with the sad solemnity that only a child can produce.
Mattie understood at once. "Trying to coax a smile, were you?"
Joe grinned disarmingly. "Without drawing undue attention to myself, yes."
Mattie nodded with calm authority. "What's called for here is subtlety," she informed him seriously.
Joe watched with great interest as Mattie—subtly— slipped her thumbs into her ears and waved her fingers wildly beside her head.
Every child in the sand pit broke up. The grave-faced girl was rolling on the ground with hilarity and Joe was laughing appreciatively.
"Mattie, that was—"
"Subtle," Mattie finished for him succinctly.
Joe shook his head wonderingly. "You're so good with kids!"
"Some people would be unkind enough to say that's because I'm on the same mental level with them," Mattie returned wryly.
Just Joe Page 3
