“How old is your son?”
That familiar sinking feeling hit her in the gut.
Eight
“Michael's going to be six soon.” Dana’s voice had a slight quiver.
“Does he look like you?” Patrick kept his eyes on the road as he questioned her.
“More like his dad.”
“Starts school this year?”
The dreaded moment had arrived. She had to brace herself against the usual round of pity. “Maybe.” Her gaze focused on the rolling hills silhouetted to her right. A slight moan escaped from her lips. “He's autistic.”
Patrick drew in a quick breath. “How are you coping?” His tone sounded nonchalant, as if Michael just had some little malady. He reached over and touched her arm. “I knew there was something very special about you.” With a snap of his fingers he added, “If I'd known, I would have cut our meeting short tonight. No more late-night sessions.”
“Look, I do whatever’s needed on the job. Michael is well cared for. No special treatment, okay? Let's just keep playing the game straight. I'm doing fine the way things are.”
Not being a woman who wanted pity or to be coddled, she knew her destiny and how to get there. “I understand you have a daughter.”
“I do. She’s in New York with her mother for the time being.”
“How old is she?”
“She'll be twelve this year.” A frown creased his brow. “Her name is Lisa.”
“Turn right up there.” Dana pointed to the Nees Avenue sign illuminated by the headlights.
He swung onto the pocked road and slowed down.
“It's that big house.” Her tension lifted when she saw the old mansion looming up in the dusky sky. Since she had no intentions to see this man outside of work again, she didn’t give a sou what he thought of her ability to raise an autistic son by herself.
* * *
Patrick rolled to a stop at the gate, a few yards from the house, and waited while she went for Michael. He hadn’t been prepared to find out this much about her life when he volunteered to drive her home. That small step turned out to be a mile.
Floodlights lit up the porch and yard, and the front door swung open. Dana, Michael and a short, heavyset woman stepped out. The older woman hugged Michael, who stared off into space in Patrick's direction. A shiver ran through him. The vacant stare in Michael's eyes plucked a string from his youth.
Dana and Michael walked toward him, holding hands. Patrick's heart went out to her. Although the boy appeared to be normal, as normal as any five year old he’d seen before, Patrick knew that the special care the child received had to be the result of a deep withdrawal.
Dana helped Michael into the backseat. She buckled his belt, kissed him on the cheek, got into the front seat, and fastened herself in.
Patrick turned to Michael, reached back, and double-checked his belt. The boy stared down into his lap. Patrick squeezed the kid's knee and said in a tone like a loving father, “How about if we all go for a pizza on the way home?”
Patrick didn't wait for an answer. He threw the car in gear and rolled away. She let out a long sigh. She turned to the backseat. “This is Patrick, Michael. He works with me.”
Michael's gaze remained on his lap.
“Michael,” Patrick spoke in a gentle voice, “I'm really glad to meet you. Your mother has told me all about you.” Although he never got an answer, he asked the boy questions about his day care center, his favorite TV shows, and his favorite sports. He went on undaunted, giving Michael a moment to answer, and then as if he'd received one, he'd ask another question.
* * *
Dana had never seen or heard anything like it. Patrick carried on as if he were talking to a ghost. She watched the scene play out before her in amazement. Her eyes pricked with tears as she stared out the window.
Back on the highway, the sky now dark and star-filled with a large orange moon climbing from behind a mountain, she touched Patrick's arm. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “You must be tired and hungry.” Relief swept over her now that he knew her secret and he hadn't even judged her or Michael.
“How about that pizza?” He showed by a motion of his head that he was talking to Michael.
“Pizza,” the boy yelled in his shrill voice, startling Dana. He rarely spoke in front of a stranger. In the dim light from the dashboard, she saw his pale hand slowly reaching toward Patrick's shoulder. Michael hesitated, pulled back, then in a quick movement, he touched Patrick's arm. She swallowed hard and once again bit back tears.
“Pizza it is.” He slapped his steering wheel.
“Why don't we pick one up and eat it at my apartment?” She feared Michael might act out and embarrass Patrick.
“No, let's eat in a restaurant and enjoy it so you won't have a mess.”
“Pizza's no mess.” Why won’t this man let up? “Are you sure?”
“Don't worry. Michael will be just fine.” He reached back and patted his knee. “Right, son?”
Patrick pulled into the parking lot at Me-n-Ed’s. He scooted out of the car and opened Dana’s door, then unbuckled Michael’s seat and lifted him out. He clung to Patrick. Like a family, hand in hand, they strolled into the restaurant. Long wooden tables filled the center of the room, but on the side, there were booths, which Dana thought would be more appropriate for them. She led the way, humming a familiar country song that played on the speakers. She was fearful of how Michael would react to Patrick in a public setting.
Her fears evaporated in minutes when Patrick asked Michael what kind of pizza he liked. Michael stared into space, confused. She quickly answered. “He loves pepperoni.”
“Who doesn’t,” Patrick replied. “I’ll be right back.” He ambled over to the counter to place their order.
She watched him, as did Michael. He held himself straight and tall, a proud man who seemed sure of himself with the demeanor of a down to earth, hard-working man with a strong set of values. No wonder Michael responded to him. What was she getting herself into? They were opponents. He was off limits. She was putting her future in jeopardy by fraternizing with him away from work.
He returned to their table with a pitcher of cola and glasses. She snapped out of her reverie. This was Michael’s moment, and she would let nothing interfere with her son’s happiness.
She experienced something she never thought would happen again. A man, whom she admired greatly, was paying attention to her son. He was even communicating in his own inimitable way, as if Michael were a perfectly normal child.
They called Patrick’s name. He went to get the pizza. He set it down on the table with a flourish and put slices on each paper plate.
Sitting quietly, Michael ate three pieces of pizza. When he finished, Dana handed him a napkin and showed with a gesture he should wipe his mouth.
Patrick held up the pitcher. “More?”
He smiled and nodded.
Another moment to remember. She thought she had died and gone to heaven.
Then he stared up past Patrick, who sat across from him, and lifted his right hand across the table and laid it on Patrick's, never once looking him in the eye. A warm heartfelt smile crossed Patrick’s lips. Dana couldn’t hold back the tears sliding down her cheeks. What just happened was the miracle she had prayed for since moving back to Ashton. She sat there stunned, and shocked, that Patrick had found some inexplicable way to reach Michael.
“Michael,” he said in a quiet tone, “I'm so glad to meet you.”
* * *
Patrick awakened to the alarm at five the following morning. He dreaded another day of the dwindling summer's oppressive heat. The ache in his stomach came from his meeting with Michael the night before. That ache brought a rush of memories from his youth.
For two years, when Patrick was ten, his dad had laid in a coma-- an accidental blow to his head during a scuffle between management and strikebreakers. Every day, Patrick sat at his father’s beside, talking and pleading with him to come bac
k to this world. “If you can hear me, Dad, give me a sign.”
Patrick never gave up. Finally, the day came. Moments before his father died, his father’s eyelids fluttered when Patrick promised he’d be the next greatest union man in the world. His dad’s eyes leaked with tears that rolled down his temples onto the pillow. He’d heard Patrick.
He knew Michael heard him last night. Then he remembered. I have to get Dana a car. He called his buddy, Ken.
“Hey, man, I can't ride this morning. I have an early meeting.”
“So,” Ken’s voice wavered through a half-yawn. “I'll ride by myself.”
“No, you won't. I need a favor.”
“What's up?”
“Dana Claiborne, the woman I told you about, needs a car.”
“You mean after all this time I get to meet the mystery lady?”
“Yeah and just remember you're renting her a car.” Patrick laughed. “She needs a cheap rental for a couple of days. Can you drop one by her apartment this morning?”
“Gladly.”
“Thanks, I owe you one.” He gave Ken Dana's address and phone number.
When he finished twenty stretching exercises and fifty pushups, he wasn't even out of breath. He forced himself under the cold shower. With his eyes closed, soaping himself under the cool, stinging jets, he saw Michael's face in his mind's eye. After one meeting, seeing Michael’s reaction to him, he wanted to help. That meant he would be around Dana away from work, which would be a problem. He couldn’t deny the intense attraction between them. With each minute that passed, her life became more intriguing. She didn't know it, but he’d seen her eyes misting when Michael touched his arm in the car last night. She loved her boy.
Off and on throughout the night, between dreams and shallow sleep, Patrick had wondered why Michael reached out to him the way he had. Maybe taking Michael out to see his horses would be beneficial for him. What boy didn’t like horses?
When he arrived at negotiations, she and her team were already there. Her pink, short-sleeved dress set off her golden tan, and her dark eyes sparkled when he came face-to-face with her across the table. Either his imagination or his new found compassion for her filled the air with the negotiating room with tranquility. Somewhere deep inside him, something had changed in the way he felt about Dana.
He placed his briefcase under his chair, sat, and folded his hands on the table in front of him. “May we caucus before we begin? It's my turn to give.” Today generosity would be his middle name.
“Top me.” She chuckled. She and her team got up and left for their own caucus room.
Fifteen minutes later, he called Dana and her team back. “I'm canceling our proposal for increased insurance benefits and the additional free lab tests the nurses wanted.” Patrick didn't need a response. The satisfaction on Dana's face told him that she liked his offer.
After watching her closely, he noticed everything had changed between then since yesterday. How could that be? His principles hadn’t changed. She was still management. He was moving away from Ashton. He still saw her as a threat and he was still the union man.
“I'd like to end our session for the day,” she said. “I have personal business this afternoon. It'll give me time to prepare for tomorrow. I wasn’t prepared for your generosity. The board will be pleased.”
A wave of disappointment overtook Patrick. Here’s where he saw Dana; he wanted to stretch the meetings out as long as possible. He even shortened his caucus to get her back in the room sooner.
“My car’s ready and I'd like to pick it up as soon as possible. I can't meet until after one tomorrow afternoon. I'm meeting with the board earlier.”
“They fixed the car pretty fast,” Patrick said. “Must have been something simple?”
“The solenoid.”
When the room cleared, she gathered up her papers and turned to Patrick.
“Thanks for helping me with the rental.”
“No problem.”
“I'm going to pick up Ken. He'll take his car back after I collect mine.”
“What do you think of him?”
“He’s friendly…funny too. He had me in stitches when I drove him back to his office this morning.”
A pang of jealousy shot through Patrick, but he had no right to feel that way. “Good. I'm glad you two hit it off.” A beautiful, talented woman like her had no business going it alone with all the responsibilities she had. If she hooked up with someone, he might get her off his mind. She got in the way of his objectivity, as witnessed today when he withdrew two items instead of one. All because he spent an evening with her and Michael. However, he didn't relish the idea she might be interested in his best friend. Why in the hell did he read something into nothing?
Patrick, too, decided to take the afternoon off and spent it on his couch staring into space thinking about a little five-year-old boy who’d reached out to him for help. Michael's inability to make eye contact with anyone, including his mother, disturbed Patrick the most. The same yearning to communicate he felt as a boy while his dad lay in a coma returned each time he thought of Michael. Now Patrick was the man, and an encrypted five-year-old boy reached out to him, a reverse parallel to his own past.
A picture of the boy, smiling with delight, perched up on Yin flashed through his mind. Maybe he’d even sit in front of Patrick, riding with the wind. He smiled.
By the end of the day, the pull became too powerful. He decided he would stop by and see Dana, using the excuse to introduce Michael to his horse. Although, he might be a little selfish in his gesture, Michael did win a tender spot in his heart, as well as Dana.
* * *
Dana ordered a wine spritzer and Ken ordered a beer. When she dropped Ken off at his office, he asked her to the Peppermill for a drink. Now she had her first opportunity to meet somebody she didn’t work with that seemed uncomplicated, understanding, and compassionate. She liked his Ivy League appearance and his sense of humor. A great catch for any single woman. “Nice place. So this is where you all hang out?”
“Yup. Patrick introduced me to this place over a year ago. Some days after work I have an appetizer dinner.” He laughed. “Not home cooking, but it's better than my cooking or a TV dinner.”
To Dana, the singles in this town all had the same idea about dinner after work, happy hour with friends at the Peppermill.
Their drinks had no more than arrived when Teal sauntered into the darkened room. Dana caught her surprised expression when she spotted them. Before flouncing over to the table, Teal whispered something to the waitress.
“May I join you?”
“Hi, Teal.” Ken rose and hugged her. “Haven't seen you for a while.”
“I've been busy.” Teal scooted in next to Dana and gave her a cursory hug. “Hi, sweetie. Sorry I haven't called, but I've been doing some legwork out of town. How are negotiations going?”
“Great. I think we're making some headway.”
Teal seemed to avoid her gaze. She appeared guilty. What had she been up to?
“I sure could have used some of your company these past few weeks.”
“Now I'm back to normal, maybe we can get together and do lunch or din din.” Teal winked.
“Sounds good. I'll call you.”
The waitress brought Teal's drink. She must have placed her order when she spotted them.
“Better yet, let’s have lunch tomorrow at the hospital. Negotiations won't start until after noon.” If Teal still wanted to try for an election, Dana needed to set some boundaries.
“Oh, damn, I have to go to Los Angeles for a meeting. I'll call you when I get back. Rain check?”
Ken smiled. “I take it you two are old friends.”
“High school,” Dana winked at Teal.
Patrick appeared in front of their table from nowhere. Dana's mouth dropped. He had his hair styled very much as he had the day of the picnic and he dressed casual in a tight shirt, jeans, and Birkenstocks. When his gaze met hers, her heart turned ov
er.
“Join us?” Dana asked.
“No thanks. I came searching for Teal.”
Teal's head jerked up in surprise. “That's a switch. What's up?”
“I have a lead I thought you might want to follow up on. A small company with a few disgruntled employees anxious to sign a petition. I don’t have the time to take on another contract, so I thought you might want to take it.”
She slipped out of her seat. “Let's talk.” She grabbed her drink and sidled up to Patrick. “See you two later. Ken, you be nice to Dana.”
He laughed. “Nice begets nice.” Ken laid a hand on Dana's arm. Patrick winced, nodded his farewell, and led Teal away. They went head-to-head for a few moments before leaving the club together. If Dana had read him right, she saw a glint of jealousy on his face.
“I'm glad they left,” Ken said in a low, husky voice. “It's you I want to get to know.”
She smiled. To have a few drinks or an occasional date with a man as nice as Ken wasn't out of the question. She didn't work with him, so the warm thoughts of Patrick must be put to rest. Here she sat in a nice, comfortable place, having a drink with a man who had possibilities and she thought of someone else. She must look for Ken's finer points, like the touches of humor around his mouth and at the corner of his eyes. “I'm glad you asked me. This place is lovely. Now I can put a face to the place.”
“What do you mean?”
“It seems everyone meets here whenever they're at loose ends. Now I can picture the scene.” Sitting around, getting to know a man and enjoying herself gave her a new lift.
“You shouldn't be a stranger. A good group hangs out here.”
For a brief moment, she wanted to call Ruta Morse and have her keep Michael late. The thought of getting up soon and leaving gave her pause. If Ken turned out to be the kind of man she hoped he was, she had plenty of time to get to know him. “I can't stay too long. I have to pick up my son.”
Conflicts of the Heart Page 8
