Where Dreams Begin

by Phoebe Conn

  He tossed the carrots into the salad bowl heaped with mixed greens, then grabbed a paper towel to dry his hands, and turned to face her. “Why don’t you just tell me what happened to your friend?”

  “You understand this conversation goes no further?”

  “Of course, if you should ever introduce us, I’ll feign complete ignorance of her romantic history.”

  “Thank you. While we might not always agree, I trust you to keep your word.”

  “That’s very generous of you, but quit stalling. Tell me about your friend.”

  Despite his encouragement, Catherine doubted she could make him appreciate Joyce’s awful sense of betrayal. She needed a moment to gather her thoughts and then provided a condensed but highly dramatic version of her friend’s lunchtime ordeal.

  He leaned back against the counter, listened attentively, and shook his head. “And her date just went ahead and ate lunch?”

  The timer sounded and she again pulled on the mitts to remove the baked chicken from the oven. “Yes, although I don’t understand how he could have swallowed a bite.”

  Once she’d closed the oven, Luke stepped up behind her. “And then he laughed about what had happened?”

  “Along with his mother,” she stressed.

  “So he’s an insensitive jerk,” he announced.

  “Is that a question or a professional opinion?” She removed the lid from the pot of rice on the back of the stove and stirred it with a long-handled spoon.

  He moved even closer to nuzzle the tender hollow behind her left ear. “This is why I don’t do couple’s therapy,” he whispered, “But I’ll give it my best shot. The guy made a major blunder, but maybe he’s been ditched a lot and just couldn’t deal with it. It’s possible he’s well-known at that restaurant was just trying to save face when his date disappeared.”

  Catherine leaned against him. “Are you taking his side?”

  “Absolutely not. His actions were unforgivable, but sometimes guys screw up.”

  “That’s precisely what my friend told him, but in more emphatic terms.”

  “I’ll bet. What does she want to do now, rehabilitate him, or continue her search for Mr. Perfect?”

  “She feels betrayed and is too hurt to think. There’s a great line from a Phish song: every betrayal begins with trust.”

  “She’d naturally feel betrayed, but what does she intend to do about it?”

  “Other than cry?” His kiss tickled her ear, and she couldn’t suppress a giggle.

  He slid his arms around her waist. “A lot of women don’t realize that even good-looking young men might not date that often. Most days they work long hours, order a pizza and fall into bed, or they hang out with their friends, have a few beers and shoot pool.

  “Then along comes a woman they just have to pursue. Unfortunately, they don’t go about it very well. They make some colossal gaff, the woman won’t speak to them again, and they’re right back to the pizza and pool. Until another irresistible young woman appears, only they haven’t learned a damn thing about themselves or women, and they make the same pitiful mistake again. If they’re lucky, eventually a smart woman will gently nudge them in the right direction.”

  They were having a serious discussion, but with him pressed so close to her back, she found it difficult to think at all. Being sandwiched between his seductive heat and that of the stove was almost more than she could bear.

  “You make it sound so simple.” She sighed.

  “Nothing is ever simple. Didn’t Sam ever do anything to disappoint you?”

  “Other than to die, you mean?”

  Luke released her instantly. “God, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to provide a demonstration of how stupid men can be. But I shouldn’t have asked that.”

  She was more appalled by her own flippant response than by his question. When she turned toward him, he looked so angry with himself that she raised her hands to frame his face and kissed him soundly. She wasn’t certain when it had happened, but she could talk about Sam now without dissolving in tears. That it might be due in part to the healing nature of Luke’s affection wasn’t lost on her.

  “I don’t compare the two of you,” she stressed. “But we can’t pretend I wasn’t married to Sam, or that Marsha wasn’t your wife. But those days are over. You may ask me about Sam whenever you like, but frankly, I don’t give a damn about whatever Marsha might or might not have done.”

  Luke still looked mortified. “I am sorry, though. It was a thoughtless question.”

  “No, it was a logical one. Upon occasion, Sam and I did argue. I recall throwing a bright red shoe at him once, but I always knew he’d be there for me if I needed him. That’s why Joyce is so upset. Shane didn’t merely disappoint her. He abandoned her when she needed him.”

  “So he’s toast,” he offered.

  “Looks like it, but I’m hoping Joyce means so much to him that he’ll fill her house with roses and convince her to forgive him.”

  He’d relaxed enough to lean back against the counter, but he pulled her along with him. “I was in junior high when I learned not to meddle in my friends’ romantic adventures. It always backfires.”

  “Was asking you for advice meddling?”

  “It could be considered borderline, Mrs. Brooks, so be careful.”

  She slipped from his grasp and moved back to the stove. “I will. Come on, let’s talk about something else while we eat. I know a little about you, but tonight I want you to tell me about an embarrassing incident, or even a scandalous one, if you like. It could even be something stupid you did as a child and lived to tell about.”

  A slow smile tugged at the corner of Luke’s mouth. “I wouldn’t want to shock you and ruin your dinner when you’ve gone to so much trouble preparing it.”

  “Yes, do, please,” she begged. “What’s the most shocking thing you’ve ever done?”

  “There’s only one thing that comes to mind, and you’ll have to wait until after dinner for me to show you.”

  She waved the rice spoon at him. “Oh, no, I already know what a wild man you are in bed. You’ll have to use something else.”

  “I wasn’t talking about sex,” he promised.

  His sly grin was so charming, she gave in. “All right, that means I’ll have to go first, but I’ll warn you right now not to laugh.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he promised, but his smile was too wide to be convincing.

  With his help, she served their dinner outside on the patio table, and she gratefully acknowledged each of his compliments. “It’s a very simple recipe, and one that always tastes as though I spent days preparing it.”

  “Well, whatever you do, this is the best chicken I’ve ever tasted.” He scooped up another mouthful with rice and closed his eyes to enjoy it fully before he swallowed. “If you’ve taken the edge off your hunger,” he then suggested, “go ahead and tell me something you wouldn’t list on your resume.”

  She finished a bite of salad first. “It’s funny you mentioned junior high, because it brought back the memory of one of the worst days of my life. Now you might describe this as a trivial incident, but it left me scarred.”

  “I assume these are metaphorical scars?” Luke asked.

  “Definitely. Now, I’ve been this tall since the summer after seventh grade, and the boys I’d always thought were cute were suddenly no taller than my shoulder. I felt as clumsy as a newborn giraffe. I even began to collect little giraffe figurines.”

  He took another slice of garlic bread from the wicker basket. “I can’t even imagine your being clumsy. You move like a dancer.”

  “That’s my mother’s influence. She insisted tall girls needed ballet lessons, and I actually enjoyed them. But junior high isn’t really about the facts of the situation, is it? It’s about how it feels.”

  “That’s not only junior high, but you’re right, feelings are much more intense then, and even the slightest hurt can be excruciatingly painful.”

 
; With a sudden appalling clarity, Catherine realized that by talking about an unhappy school experience, she might have unwittingly reminded him of his daughter’s anguish. She wished she hadn’t begun the story now, but it was too late to switch topics. All she could do was rush through it and hope for the best, but she made a mental note not to stray into such dangerous territory ever again.

  “Somehow I managed to survive until graduation. It was held in the afternoon of a scorchingly hot day. The band played. A couple of students delivered earnest speeches about the future, and then the principal spoke and began to hand out diplomas.

  “When it came my turn to receive mine, I walked across the outdoor stage and shook the principal’s hand. But when I reached the steps to return to my seat, I tripped and fell.”

  “Oh no!” Luke cried. “I’ve never seen that happen. Were you hurt?”

  “Not physically, but whatever poise I’d managed to affect was completely shattered. The P.E. teacher was standing at the bottom of the steps, and he picked me up and set me on my feet before the boy following me in line started down the stairs. The whole incident took no more than a split second.

  “I was too horrified to get back in line, though, and hid behind the potted plants at the edge of the stage. There was a dance afterward, but I told my parents the heat had given me a horrible headache and didn’t go. They’d taken a picture of me as I received my diploma, and they were looking down at the camera when I fell, so they had no idea what had happened.

  “I spent the whole summer in absolute dread that come September, I’d be known as the girl who’d gone bumping down the stairs like Winnie-the-Pooh.”

  “And in September?” he prompted.

  “The first day, I wore my hair in this wild punk ponytail hoping no one would recognize me, but of course, everyone did and they all told me that my hair looked really weird. I kept waiting for someone to yell they’d seen my underpants when I’d fallen down the stairs, but thank God, no one did.

  “After a few days, it finally occurred to me that everyone had been watching the student receiving his diploma rather than me. So I’d wasted a perfectly good summer agonizing over what others thought of me when I hadn’t even entered their heads. That was a valuable lesson, but I sure wish it hadn’t been so painful to learn.”

  “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean,” he replied. “But falling at a graduation ceremony would upset anyone. After all, there you were, proud of your accomplishments, and wham, you landed in the dust.”

  She was grateful he’d remarked on the incident rather than become maudlin over teenage angst. “I’m sorry, that story wasn’t all that entertaining, was it?”

  “I thought the idea was to share something new. Anyone who meets you now would never guess you were once painfully shy. I’m afraid my transformation may have gone in the opposite direction, but you’ll have to wait a while longer to see what I mean.”

  He winked at her, and she sighed with relief. She could taste the remorse he’d felt when he’d asked about Sam, and it tied her stomach in knots. Unable to eat, she rearranged the food on her plate into scattered lumps. She smiled often to distract him, and even after he’d eaten a second helping, he didn’t realize her appetite had failed to match his.

  “The next time I speak with Joyce, I promise not to mention your name,” she confided, “but I did appreciate your insights. Shane became the head of his family in his teens, and I’ll bet he hasn’t dated much. He wouldn’t have intentionally abandoned Joyce, and I’ll encourage her to give him a second chance.”

  “As long as you merely plant the idea, it’s not really meddling now, is it?”

  She knew he had her there. “No, it is, but it’s for a good cause.”

  “Now where have I heard that one before?” he teased. “But if Joyce and Shane don’t get back together, do you think she’d like Toby McClure?”

  “My God, what a thought,” Catherine exclaimed, but after a moment, she nodded. “An artist and an interior designer would have a great deal in common. But I’ve no idea what she thinks of tattoos.”

  “She might like Toby’s as much as you do.”

  She wasn’t taken in by his teasing grin. “You’re stalling, but I don’t distract that easily. It’s time for your shocking confession.”

  “Hey, I just ate. You’ll have to let me sit out here under the stars for a while or I won’t do it justice.”

  “You are a terrible tease, Dr. Starns.”

  “I know, but thank God, you have a forgiving nature.”

  “I’ve obviously conditioned you to believe that’s true, but it can change,” she warned.

  She sat back and listened to the crickets’ insistent chirping, but it took a long while to relax. She felt as though she’d danced through a veritable minefield with her stupid story about junior high. She might have gotten away with it, but her remorse had yet to completely fade.

  “How long do you suppose it takes to really get to know someone?” she asked.

  “It depends on the person. After five minutes you know all you’ll ever want to know about some people, but with others, a lifetime might not be long enough.”

  “Hmm,” she murmured agreeably, but she wisely didn’t comment on how tragically brief some lifetimes were.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The evening had grown cool before Luke rose to his feet and, with an easy lift, helped Catherine to hers. “I could sit out here all night with you, but I ought to get on with my part of the evening while I still have the courage to go through with it.”

  “No matter what it is, I swear I won’t laugh,” she vowed as she began to clear the table.

  “Here, let me take the dishes,” he insisted, and he carried them into the house while she held the door. “We can load these into the dishwasher later after dessert.” He washed his hands, then laced his fingers in Catherine’s and led her into the living room.

  “First, I’ll need some music.” The entertainment center held a CD player and an ample collection of CDs, as well as the radio they’d danced to and a television. He thumbed through the CDs, set a couple aside as possibilities, and then chose the Blues Brothers. “Soul Man will do.”

  “It’ll do for what?” She sat on the end of the sofa, slipped off her sandals and pulled her feet up under her cinnamon-colored gauze skirt. The neckline of the matching peasant blouse slid down over one shoulder with a charming nonchalance.

  Luke paced as he replied. “This is the most shocking revelation I can come up with on such short notice, and I’ll admit it was a brief stint, but for a while, I was one of the Chippendale dancers.”

  Catherine responded with a delighted shriek. “You weren’t, not the staid Dr. Starns!”

  He halted in front of her and rested his hands lightly on his hips. “I was a college kid and not in the least bit staid. It paid really well, but Marsha didn’t like my being gone at night or the fact I was dancing half naked for screaming women who’d crawl all over each other to shove ten dollar bills into my satin underwear, what little there was of it.”

  “I know I promised not to laugh, but that’s just too much.” She gasped amid a burst of musical giggles.

  He kicked off his loafers and began to unbutton his shirt. “Now, this isn’t Chippendale’s, and I don’t have the pants with Velcro down the sides, or the black satin bikini briefs, so you’ll have to use your imagination. Of course, I’m no longer in my twenties and didn’t have time to shave my chest, but I trust you to be kind.”

  She raised her hands to stifle her laughter. “Please don’t apologize. If you were any better looking, I’d swoon right here!”

  He shook out his arms and ran his hands through his hair in an excellent imitation of Elvis. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  She howled again. “I’m not sure I can stand this.”

  He placed the CD in the player and pressed the button for Soul Man. He turned up the volume on the driving beat and then glanced over his shoulder and winked.

  C
atherine had expected him to relate some silly adolescent adventure, perhaps involving an English teacher, not launch into a pulse-pounding performance, but as he began to dance, it was all she could do not to scream with the same frenzy that had rocked Chippendale’s. It might have been more than a dozen years since he’d been paid for the provocative routine, but he still had every suggestive step down cold, complete with sly winks, and sex-charged pelvic thrusts.

  He peeled off his shirt, teasing her every inch of the way. By the time he tossed it into her lap, she was weak from appreciative laughter and used it to dry her happy tears. Even when he was standing still, she’d always considered his lean muscular build handsome, but now every ripple of lightly tanned muscle called her name. Her cheeks filled with the heat of desire, and she wondered what she would have to promise to inspire him to dance for her again.

  Luke flipped open the top button on his Levi’s, but he went no farther with his tantalizing striptease. But when he ground his hips with the music, he left so little to Catherine’s imagination that he might as well have been naked. When the lively song came to an end, he quickly shut off the CD, then dropped to his knees in front of her and rested his arms across her lap.

  “I’d ask if you’d like to take me home, but luckily we’re already here.”

  Catherine ruffled his silvery hair, then leaned forward to give him a long, slow kiss. “You needn’t worry I’ll ever tell a soul what I’ve just seen. No one would believe me.”

  “Damn, I should have sworn you to secrecy first.”

  “And to think you once claimed you didn’t dance well.”

  He shrugged. “True, but I was referring to dancing with a woman, not doing a solo act. Although when you mentioned Dimitri, I’ll admit to feeling a twinge of guilt.”

  His pulse throbbed at the base of his throat, and she swept her hair aside to lean down and press her lips against his heat-moistened skin. She was tempted to leave her mark on him but instead moved up to kiss his lips.

  “You taste every bit as good as you look.” After brushing his arms aside, she slid off the sofa to join him on the floor. “You don’t know how glad I am that my living room is so much more private than Chippendale’s.” She combed the coarse hair circling his nipples, then bent to lick the tender buds.