by Helen Conrad
“Well, maybe they ought to,” she said softly, gazing at him with speculation in her eyes. “You're asking for intimacy from me, and yet you put up a wall yourself. You refuse to let me know you better.”
His eyes were clouded. “You want to know me better?”
She nodded, barely hiding her smile at his little-boy-lost look. “Start with what Beverly was like,” she suggested.
At first she thought he wasn't going to tell her anything. His frown was a bad sign. But then he turned and grimaced and spoke softly. “Beverly was ... an icicle. Beautiful in her kind of weather, but liable to disappear when any sort of warmth developed.” He grimaced. “One heat wave and she was gone.”
It was a start, but Kathy wasn't sure what he meant, or whether he would continue talking. He didn't. “You must have loved her when you married her,” she coaxed.
His cloudy gaze raked over her. “Did I? It's hard to remember.” He picked up a stone and threw it as far as he could. The sound of its fall echoed among the trees and canyons. “But I suppose you loved Greg.”
She'd thought she loved him. Now she knew that had been illusion. She hadn't understood anything at all about how it was between men and women. She wasn't sure she understood much more now.
“You never did tell me all about how you met Jim,” he said abruptly.
He was trying hard to avoid telling her anything. She glanced at him and then away. “I'd rather talk about the future than the past.”
“Yes, but to predict the future, you have to understand the past.”
She challenged him with a direct stare. “Then tell me about your past. Tell me all about what happened after you won all those medals and met Beverly . . . and got rich.”
He looked at her for a moment, bemused, then shaded his eyes and looked toward the sky. “The helicopter will be back any minute,” he warned.
“We've got time,” she insisted. “Tell me.”
A reluctant grin warmed his face. “Nosy broad,” he teased, then held up a protective hand when sparks flashed in her eyes. “All right,” he growled, “I will reveal all. Everything you ever wanted to know, and more.”
“Not everything,” she said, beginning to wonder what she was getting into. “I mean, I don't want you telling me secrets. . . .”
“Why not?” His blue eyes turned hard and cold. “Who else am I going to tell them to?”
She swallowed and kept quiet. His mood was strangely volatile, and she didn't quite trust it. As she watched, he threw himself down on his stomach, his head resting on his folded arms.
“I got offers for all kinds of things after all that Olympic gold,” he began. “I did some endorsements and got ridiculous amounts of money for just grinning and holding up underwear or bottles of cold syrup or anything else they told me to hold up. And I used that money to start my own business, a little development company that quickly became a much bigger development company.” He shrugged lazily. “I can't help it, Kathy,” he said. “Everything always came easily to me. All I had to do was want something, and the next thing I knew, I had it. Swimming medals, money, women, development contracts:—it all fell into place with very little effort on my part.”
He was silent for a moment, and she didn't say a word. Something in his voice told her this was not a blithe recital of blessings. Something deeper was involved. Something he might reveal if she kept quiet.
“I thought marriage would be the same way,” he said at last. “But it wasn't. I married Beverly—and nothing came easily again.”
Kathy sat very still. There was real pain in his voice now. There was also a chance he would say things she really didn't want to hear, but now that she had him talking, that was a chance she would have to take. She longed to reach out and touch his rumpled hair, to make it easier for him, but she didn't dare.
“The thing is,” he was saying, “I had never learned how to work at anything. Suddenly there was this tremendous amount of work to be done, and I didn't have a clue as to how to go about doing it.” His voice grew more muffled as he buried his face in the fold of his arms. “When things began to go bad, I didn't know what to do. How to reach her. How to try.”
Kathy tried to speak, and nothing came out. She cleared her throat and tried again. “That happens to a lot of people,” she said, then winced at the cliche. How helpful, she thought hopelessly. He's hurting, and I don't know how to help him any more than he knew how to help Beverly.
He turned his face to look at her. “But see . . . it wasn't supposed to happen to me.” He moved restlessly, sitting up again, facing away from her, staring off into the pines. “One thing after another went wrong. And then Beverly wanted something very specific that I couldn't provide.” He was quiet for a moment. Kathy had the feeling he was gathering strength. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse. “I couldn't give her a baby,” he said. “And that was the final straw.”
Kathy sat very still, very shocked—shocked at herself for making him say these things, shocked at the way he was opening up for her, a woman he barely knew—and shocked at what he was saying.
No baby? What could he mean? What about Bobby? What was he talking about?
He looked at her, his face half defiant, half vulnerable. “This'll show you how incompetent I was,” he said, his voice still hoarse. “I bought her a kitten. Can you believe it? A little furry gray kitten. I thought it might help ease her yearning for motherhood.” His laugh was low and bitter. “I tied it all up in a box with a big red bow and I gave it to her.” He coughed and shook his head. “She undid the ribbon and opened the lid, and there he was, his blue eyes staring up at her.”
He sat very still, rigid, as though moving would open a floodgate he wanted to make sure stayed firmly closed. “She . . . she started to scream. She couldn't have been more horrified if I'd presented her with a dead rat. I didn't realize . . .”
His voice faded and he shook his head. “She took it to the pound. I got it back, of course. I couldn't let the poor thing die just because of my mistake. And I gave it to one of the guys who worked for me, for his little girl. But Beverly never forgave me for that.”
Kathy's heart was breaking, for the kitten, for Jace, for Beverly. For herself for not knowing what to do, how to comfort him. From the distance came the sound of an approaching helicopter.
They both turned to watch it come over the rise and head for the clearing. “Picnic's over,” Jace said softly. He turned and looked at Kathy. He'd just told her things he never thought he would tell anyone. “Want to run away into the woods?” he asked hopefully.
She looked at him and wondered how much his mood shifts were a protective device, meant to cover up his real feelings. She smiled at him, then reached out and touched his cheek with her hand. “I'd love to,” she whispered. “But you know we can't.”
His eyes darkened. He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “I don't know anything of the kind,” he said, gazing into her eyes. “Someday you'll know that, too. That's the day I'll wait for.”
“Jace ...”
“I'd like to see you again.”
Dread rose in her. “I'd like to see you, too, but ...”
The intensity of his gaze burned into her. His hand tightened on hers. “When? You name the date.”
She drew in her breath. This was the hardest thing she'd ever had to say. “July sixteenth of next year,” she said. “The day after the World Games in Rome ends.”
No reaction. Not one emotion showed itself on his handsome face. For a long moment he seemed to be made of stone. “You're not serious.”
“Yes . . . yes, I am. I have to be.” She felt cold inside. “If I weren't serious, I would never have started on this road.”
The helicopter was loud, very near.
“It's time to go,” she said.
He didn't move.
“Jace ...”
He nodded quickly. “Okay,” he said, releasing her and vaulting to his feet. “Back to the real world.” He gave her a long, l
ast troubled look. “You go. I’m staying here. I’ve got some thinking to do.”
And he walked away into the woods.
CHAPTER SIX:
Avocado Green
“Avocados.”
Kathy opened her eyes sleepily and blinked at Maxie, who was hovering over her, looking disgustingly awake for so early on a non-workout morning. “Avocados?” she echoed dubiously.
“Absolutely. A-vo-ca-dos.” Her roommate bounced down to sit on the bed beside her. “They're full of nutrition. And they're delicious to boot.”
Kathy scrunched her eyes closed again and mumbled, “Fatty.”
Maxie's wide green eyes took on a woeful expression. “Well, you don't have to get personal,” she protested.
Kathy groaned and rolled over to face her friend. “Not you, silly. Avocados.”
“Oh.” Pure joy came back into Maxie's pretty round face. “I know. But you see, they're so rich and full of vitamins, it won't make any difference. Besides, you can't eat very much of them at a time. So it'll all work out.”
Kathy gave up all hope of further dreams and opened her eyes to look at the redhead leaning eagerly over her. What she saw made her smile despite herself. Maxie always reminded her of an elf riding a rainbow, always sure new excitement lay just around the corner. Right now she was into diets. All kinds of diets. A new one every day.
“You'll go on it with me, won't you?” she asked now. “We can start right away. I stocked up last night while you were out with Jim.”
Out with Jim. Kathy groaned again. “Don't remind me.”
Maxie gave her a long sideways glance. “Was he hard on you?”
“Hard is hardly the word for it.” She watched Maxie through her eyelashes. “Vicious is more like it. Cruel. Tyrannical. Pompous. Profane.”
Maxie flushed, just as she'd expected her to. “That's not fair,” she said defensively. “Jim just wants what's best for you. And you know you have been losing concentration lately.”
Kathy laughed, throwing back her head. “Oh, Maxie, you're so easy to bait! Jim was just fine last night. He gave me a talking to, and I deserved it. I'm going to shape up. Everything's going to be fine.”
Maxie looked much happier, and Kathy smiled at her, wishing she herself could believe the optimistic words she'd just been spouting as completely as Maxie obviously did.
Jim had been hard on her. He’d been tight-lipped during the flight from Utah the day before. And as soon as they got back to Destiny Bay, he’d warned her. And then he'd taken her out to dinner so that they could have a long talk, and he'd laid it out on the table.
“The factors that separate the winners from the also-rans are talent, hard work, and desire. You've got the talent. You do the hard work. And up till now, you've had the desire.”
She'd felt dread in the pit of her stomach. “Are you saying you don't think I have it anymore?” she'd asked him.
“I'm saying that your concentration is off. I'm saying that Jace Harper could ruin your chances for good.”
The dread was growing. “But he's gone,” she protested. “It's been almost a week since I last saw him. He’s… he's in Los Angeles.”
“So's your mind,” Jim said curtly. “It's up to you, Kathy. You said you wanted this. I can always find someone else to coach, someone else to test my theories on. But for you, it's now or never.”
His eyes had softened as he watched her misery. He reached out and took her hand. “Forget about him, Kathy,” he urged. “Get your focus back. There will be plenty of time later for that sort of thing. Right now, swimming should be your obsession. If it isn't, you can't win.”
He was right. She knew it.
That afternoon in the mountains was like a magical interlude in a life that hadn't been so enchanting. Thinking about Jace, about their time together, filled her with warmth and a strange longing that she couldn't shake. He'd left for L.A. the following day, but had called her that night. And the next. And the next. Until finally she'd told him she couldn't accept his calls any longer.
“Don't call me,” she begged him. “You're an ex-swimmer. You know how important it is to get your head straight before a meet. I've got to be that way all the time, all the rest of the year.”
“How am I stopping you from doing that?”
“Oh, Jace,” she sighed. How could she explain it to him if she couldn't understand it herself?
She was no longer taking his calls, no longer reading his e-mails, ignoring his text messages. Maxie was running interference, saying she was unavailable. But every time the phone rang, or her cell phone gurgled, Kathy's heart began to pound.
Maxie was still bouncing on Kathy's bed.
“Jim is right, you know,” she was saying. She was always sure Jim was right, no matter what. “And one of the best things you can do to help get yourself back on line is to get your nutrition squared away. That's where my new diet comes in.”
Kathy looked at her balefully, resigning herself to another hideous experiment in Twilight Zone gastronomy. “What do we have to do?”
There was nothing Maxie liked better than embarking on a new diet. She settled down happily and began her explanation. “For breakfast we have chunks of avocado floating in grapefruit juice and zapped in the blender.” She said the word “zapped” with animation and delight, her eyes widening as though she was zapping something right then.
“An avocado shake?” Kathy intoned in horror.
Maxie tapped her shoulder for silence. “At ten o'clock we have a snack of avocado shavings over grapefruit juice ice, like a slush, sort of. For lunch we have avocado mashed on a piece of toast with just a touch of sugar sprinkled over it. For dinner, avocado spears drizzled with lemon, nestling against four tiny pink shrimp.”
Kathy laughed softly. “Just how tiny are these shrimp?”
Maxie held up two fingers to demonstrate. “Minuscule. Just for taste.” She bobbed her eyebrows at Kathy. “Doesn't it sound wonderful?”
Kathy groaned, knowing she was doomed to days and days of avocado. “Why don't we just go to a Mexican restaurant and forget all this? They've got plenty of avocado all made up in a delicious—”
“Guacamole!” Maxie said the word as though it were a new and especially insidious brand of poison. “With chips.” She shook her head. “I love guacamole. I'd eat it all day if I had the chance.” Her green eyes took on an earnest glint, and Kathy knew there was a lecture coming on. “You see, Kathy, there is a fine line between food you like enough to diet on and food you like enough to gorge on. You've gotta keep up the barriers and know your limitations.”
Kathy managed a weak smile. “Okay, okay. Avocados. We'll try it.” Her eyelids drifted down. “Just give me five more minutes.”
“Sure.” Maxie bounced up. “I'll go fix breakfast. You get some sleep.”
But sleep had packed up and moved on, and Kathy couldn't catch hold of it again. So she lay very still, trying to think about cheery, busy things to do that day. Contrarily, her thoughts kept going back to Jace, the very thing she was determined not to think about.
“Good grief,” she scolded herself. “Can it! The man is an arrogant manipulator who wants nothing more from you than to liven up his day with a game of cat and mouse. You'd be insane to fall for a man like that.”
And of course, she wasn't falling for him. Nothing like that. But the memory of his sizzling kiss could make her heart beat a little faster every time she let it surface. And that was something.
“Nothing important,” she assured herself silently. But something, nonetheless.
“Here we go!”
Maxie was back, and in her hand was a tall, icy glass of the vilest-looking green liquid Kathy had ever seen.
“Argh!” she cried, diving under the covers.
“Come on, now. Maxie knows best.” She yanked the protective blanket away from Kathy's face and smiled calmly. “Drink up. It's delicious. And so good for you.”
“I'm not hungry.” Kathy tried, but Maxie was a
tiger once she had a diet by the tail.
“Come on, now. Skipping breakfast only leads to stuffing your little cheeks later in the morning.” She presented the glass. “Try it. I just drank down every last drop of mine.”
Kathy sat up reluctantly, but she knew when she was beaten. Closing her eyes and holding her nose, she began to chug down the slick green liquid as fast as she could, hoping her stomach wasn't yet awake enough to notice what she was inflicting on it.
“Good, isn't it?” Maxie asked cheerfully.
“Delicious,” Kathy managed to gasp. Shuddering, she handed back the empty glass.
“I knew you'd love it.” Maxie started back toward the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “We're going to lose five pounds in one week on this one. Mark my words!”
Kathy groaned, visions of green meals floating before her eyes like huge, grass-stained polka dots. Would she survive having Maxie for a friend?
Still, this avocado regimen was probably better than the beer diet, when Maxie had gone around tipsy all the time, burping and making calm but grandiose pronouncements on how the world should really be run. She'd gained ten pounds on that one.
Kathy laughed softly. She had a lot of affection for Maxie. One of the best things about Jim was the fact that he'd introduced the two of them. Maxie had worked for Jim for years, and she was totally, completely in love with him, a fact Jim didn't seem to notice—or, if he noticed, had decided to ignore.
Kathy had worried about that for months, but it seemed a hopeless situation. She was sure it was Jim's physical condition that made him turn a blind eye to Maxie's adoration, but Maxie refused to discuss it, and Kathy didn't have a clue as to how to remedy things. She loved them both. Why couldn't they get together and be happy?
The sharp sound of the telephone split through her thoughts. She went very still, listening while Maxie answered it.
“Call for you,” she called from the living room.
Kathy swung her bare feet over the side of the bed to the floor and stood up. “Who is it?” she asked suspiciously.
“The operator,” Maxie called. “She says it's a person-to-person call from Mark Spitz.”
