But, oh God, how I’d love to be able to come with him inside me. Or even as he watches. But I can’t seem to lose that need for anonymity. I need the dark. I need my back to him. I can’t let him see me. I don’t know why…
But I love watching him. Such a powerful feeling to know I can give him that much pleasure.
And speaking of pleasure: Nick’s certainly given me more than my share, in so many ways, and in so short a time. Working in the darkroom again is such a rush. It was like I’d never been away from it. Everything fell into place. I had all my old rhythms back. It felt so right. To think I gave it all up for someone like Ted.
I did everything Ted wanted, and Ted wanted me with him, and I thought that was good enough. But here’s Nick wanting me with him, helping me to do what I love.
Ted wanted a maid he could take to bed, although I didn’t see that at the time. I was too in love with the idea of a man in my life; One who seemed to need me like I needed him.
But I can’t let myself go there anymore. What would be the point? In the here and now, I’m working again and it still gives me such joy.
If what they say is true – when one door closes, another opens – then I’ve picked Door Number 3 with the big prize behind it, and Monty Hall is still telling me what I’ve won.
I feel lucky. I feel alive. But best of all, I feel happy.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Maddy climbed to the top tier of the bleachers. A few parents, mostly mothers, smiled at her as she struggled with her camera bag, cooler, and tote. Some gave her frosty looks, while others simply watched, and – as she passed – whispered to their companions. The men kept their faces forward, but their eyes, hidden behind dark glasses, followed her progress appreciatively.
All these little dramas escaped Maddy. She finally reached the last seat, gratefully dumped the bags, and rubbed the side of her neck. The sun was brutal, and it made the bleachers sizzle. The whole Little League field was surrounded by alders and firs but, in their infinite wisdom, the city planners had stuck the grandstand in the one open area.
Pulling a beach towel out of the tote bag, Maddy spread it on the seat and plopped her shorts-clad bottom on it. She stretched tanned legs out in front of her and leaned back against the guard rail. Her “Ow – shit!” as she discovered how well aluminum conducted heat, brought more glances, and she shrugged apologetically.
Maddy looked down at the nearest dugout in search of Nick, and couldn’t believe she’d let herself be talked into coming. She felt so out of place that she half-expected all the moms, dads, kids, and wide variety of siblings, grandparents, and school chums to bodily remove her for the intruder that she was.
But as she spotted Nick helping Becky with her catcher’s gear, Maddy knew exactly why she’d come. He was the best-looking dad in this sea of pale legs, thinning hair, and baggy shorts. She suddenly wondered how old he was. Forty loomed on the too-close-for-comfort horizon, a milestone she didn’t look forward to. Maddy didn’t think she looked her age, but what if he didn’t look his, either? As she compared Nick to the other parents, he seemed much younger. And Becky was only eight. What if he was barely thirty? What then?
Nick stood, said something to Becky, and they turned their faces toward the bleachers. Nick saw her first, pointed, then they both waved at Maddy. Several heads swiveled to see who the recipient of their attention was, but Maddy didn’t notice. She waved back and gave Becky a thumbs-up. And it hit her that his age was an absurd thing to worry about. For some reason her subconscious kept dredging up anxieties to focus on, as if she somehow didn’t deserve to be happy.
As she watched Nick and fanned herself with a leaflet proclaiming “Lose 10 Pounds in 10 Days!” two young mothers had come up the other side and perched on the bench two rows below Maddy. Her eyes were on her favorite subject, but she couldn’t help glancing at them.
Cut from the same upper-middle class cloth, they both wore khaki shorts – the Eddie Bauer label prominent on their backsides – and sleeveless tops. One wore loafers with no socks, the other a pair of white Keds. Gold and diamonds were evident in every form: rings, bangles, earrings, necklaces. The too-perfect highlights in their blonde hair glinted in the sun. More gold.
“The Eastside Elite” was her friend Karen’s term for them. Jaed’s was somewhat longer, and more descriptive.
Maddy didn’t really give them much thought, they were so far-removed from her way of life.
She took out her camera. As the two women talked, their gestures were identical. And when they both raised their right hands in the Royal Wave to their respective daughters, Maddy snapped the shutter. It would be a good study in contrasts to her Salmon Beach residents.
Setting the camera down, Maddy reached into her bag for the tube of tanning lotion and began smoothing it on her legs. No SPF 30 for her. Maddy’s Greek blood afforded her the small luxury of a deep tan without too many of the dire consequences doctor’s warned about. A tan that took most people a week in Hawaii to achieve, Maddy got in a few hours. It was one of her few vanities.
As Maddy began covering her arms with the cream, the women’s conversation drifted up, intruding on her own thoughts.
“…and the ink isn’t even dry on their divorce papers,” the blonde in the pale pink top was saying.
“Maybe he’s afraid she’ll change her mind about marrying him,” blonde number two replied. “He is, like fifteen years older than she is.”
“More like twenty…”
Maddy tuned them out until a familiar name reached her ears.
“That’s Janet Kingston’s ex. I met him at the school once.”
“So, that’s Becky’s real dad?”
“Uh huh,” Pink-Top said. “He’s pretty nice. Makes you wonder what he ever saw in Janet.”
Blonde Number Two snorted, then said, “Pretty nice looking, too.”
“You should see him up close.”
“That good, huh?”
Pink-Top’s response was lost in the roar of a plane’s engines that passed overhead. When Maddy could hear again, the topic had changed, but not the subject.
“What do you suppose she’ll do when Jim’s career takes a nose dive?”
“Find another, younger stud on the team to take his place.”
“What was the name of that woman in ‘Bull Durham’?”
“Annie Savoy,” Pink-Top answered. And then they both laughed, and in tandem said, “She’s no Annie Savoy.”
Blonde Number Two was still laughing when she said, “Well, she must do something right.”
Maddy sat perfectly still, trying to collate this information so that it made some kind of sense. The solution was there. She could almost – but not quite – understand what she was hearing. Maddy knew the name Kingston from somewhere. Knew it well. But out of context, it wasn’t connecting, and it was going to drive her nuts.
Blonde Number Two’s voice rose over the noise the horde of children on the field were making. “I thought Brittany was supposed to catch today.”
“She was.” Pink-Top’s voice took on an annoyed tone. “But when Don found out Becky’s dad was going to be here, he changed the line-up.”
“Well, that kinda makes sense. He’s never gotten to see her play.”
“I know, but isn’t it enough she’s got Jim Kingston coaching her all week?”
Maddy sat back, stunned, and didn’t hear another word the two women said.
Jim Kingston – Janet’s husband – was the latest in a long succession of left-fielders for the Mariner’s. He’d come to the team from the Oakland A’s a controversial two-seasons ago. Just after the spring training accident that had ended the Mariner’s catcher’s career.
Maddy stared at Nick’s back, as he waited for Becky to take the field. Nick Patrick – her Nick – was veteran catcher Patrick McKay.
As Maddy looked at him now, it seemed so patently obvious. How had she not recognized him? The goatee from his playing days was gone now. And out of uniform, with
out the catcher’s mask and helmet, he looked very different. It was that whole out-of-context thing, like seeing her dentist at the supermarket or the grocery checker at a ballgame.
Up until that moment, he’d been Nick Patrick, divorced handyman. She hadn’t expected to meet, sleep with, and fall in love with Patrick McKay – major league catcher – on Salmon Beach.
He had turned to make his way to the bleachers, when a teenaged boy approached him. The boy held something out to Nick – a ball and a pen. Maddy watched as Nick hesitated, then looked up at her. Before he could catch her, Maddy had the camera in front of her face, pointed at the field. When she look at Nick again, his back was to her. He quickly signed the ball, surreptitiously handed it back to the young fan, and rushed up the bleacher steps.
Maddy didn’t know what to feel, or how to react to this cover-up. But it was the Nick she’d made love with coming toward her, sitting down, kissing her. He was the only Nick she knew. There would be a better time – later – to discover his reason for burying himself in the seclusion of Salmon Beach.
“You’re the sexiest thing here,” he said, draping an arm across her shoulders.
“Right back at ya,” she said. “As a matter of fact, you’re the talk of the Mommy Set.”
He smiled, taking in the field. “So are you. And the daddies are still trying to find their eyeballs. Something tells me there’s gonna be an epidemic of headaches tonight.”
“Then you’re the luckiest guy here.”
“That I am.”
Maddy sat on the couch, legs tucked underneath her, with Becky snuggled into her side. It was Maddy’s first viewing of “The Little Mermaid,” and she was engrossed. Becky, on the other hand, had given Maddy the plot details, spoken the dialogue along with the characters, and pretty much kept up a running commentary throughout the first hour.
Now, from the vantage point of his armchair, Nick watched as Becky valiantly tried to keep her eyes open. Amused, he finally got up and gently shook her leg. “You’re fighting a losing battle, Becks.”
“I wanna see the end,” she said sleepily.
“You’ve seen the end. About thirty-five times. Say goodnight to Maddy and go brush your teeth.” She protested again. “Come on. Big day tomorrow. The sooner you go to sleep the sooner we can get to Wild Waves.”
“Can Maddy come?” she asked, sitting up.
Nick and Maddy looked at each other, and he said, “If she wants to.”
The possibility of Maddy’s company got Becky up on her knees. She wrapped her arms around Maddy’s shoulders. “You wanna come, don’cha Maddy?”
Taken by surprise at the spontaneous affection, Maddy said, “Can’t think of anything I’d like better.”
“Okay, now that we’ve planned Maddy’s life for her, I think you can go to bed.” He took his daughter’s hand and helped her off the couch. “I’ll be in in a minute.”
Nick sat on the edge of the twin bed as Becky settled her stuffed polar bear under the sheet, its head on the pillow next to hers. He bent to kiss her, and whispered, “I was really proud of you today. You did a great job.”
“It was really cool when I tagged Heather out.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“How come her mom got so mad?”
Nick grinned, remembering the stink the woman made over the play. “Because she thought Heather was safe.”
“But she wasn’t, was she.”
“Nope. And when Heather called you that name, I was really proud of you for not saying anything back. That proves how grown up you are.”
Becky’s smile turned into a yawn, and Nick leaned over to switch off the light. She turned onto her side, then said, “Maddy’s really nice, isn’t she, Daddy?”
Nick smoothed her hair, and as he stood said, “I’m glad you think so, Becks.”
He left her door open a crack and collapsed on the couch next to Maddy, whose eyes flew open.
“Tired?” he asked.
“I’m beat.”
“Wait till tomorrow. You’ll wish you felt as good as you do now.”
Maddy groaned and let her head fall into his lap.
“You got burned,” he said, his finger tracing the line on her shoulder left by the tanktop.
“I don’t burn.”
“Whatever you say.” He poked the red flesh, leaving a white spot.
She groaned again and ineffectively slapped at his hand.
They sat silently. Nick absently stroked her hair.
Her voice muffled by fatigue and his thighs, she asked, “How old are you?”
“Thirty-seven. Why?”
“Just wondered.” They were quiet again, then she said, “Don’t you want to know how old I am?”
“Unless you’re fifteen or – like – sixty, I don’t really care.”
“I’ll be forty in four months.”
“Have you picked out a burial plot yet?”
“I just thought you should know, that’s all.”
“Okay. Now I know.”
The movie credits were rolling. Nick reached for the remote and turned off the DVD player and television. The silence crept over them. He let his hand follow the curves of her body. He thought she’d fallen asleep, when she softly said, “I lied to you about something, Nick.” His hand came to rest on her hip and he waited. “Remember when we first met, and you asked me about that photo of the two kids? The one taken by the lake?”
“You didn’t really think I bought that ‘cousins’ story, did you?”
Maddy rolled over onto her back and looked up at him, annoyed. “Well, why wouldn’t you?”
“Come on, Maddy. The girl in the picture looked just like you.” He grinned. “Besides, you’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.”
“Well, you’d certainly know.” Her eyes locked on his. “Because you must be the best.”
“Hey, don’t get defensive on me. And quit changing the subject.”
“The subject just became ‘lying.’” She picked up the TV remote and held it to his mouth like a microphone. “Care to comment, Mr. McKay?”
Maddy almost wished she had her camera, because the look on his face was worth much more than a thousand words. Tickled, she continued her in-your-face reporting. “We’re talking with former Mariner’s catcher Patrick McKay. The topic: lying. Tell all the young fans in your audience where you stand on the issue.”
“I didn’t lie to you.” He grabbed the remote out of her hand and flung it at the armchair. It hit the back and bounced onto the floor, spilling its batteries.
Shocked by his reaction, Maddy sat up. Any weariness she’d felt earlier was now replaced by a heart-pounding shot of panic. On her knees, she tried to stop the white-capped waves she’d made, and took his face in her hands.
“I didn’t lie,” he repeated.
Nick sprang off the couch and strode to the center of the living room, his back to her.
“But you didn’t tell me the truth,” Maddy said.
He spun around. “It wasn’t just you, okay? Nobody knows.”
“Except Mary,” she stated. He didn’t reply, but stared at her. It didn’t occur to Maddy that what she thought was anger was actually fear. “I’m right, aren’t I? Mary knows everything. How much longer were we going to go on before you let me in on the real Nick?”
He ignored her question. “How long have you known?”
“I figured it out today. At the game.” Maddy pushed herself off the couch. Standing in front of him, she said, “Look Nick. I’m not going to tell anyone. This is obviously something you don’t want broadcast to the general public. Your secret’s safe with me. I promise.” His cool, blue eyes held hers, and Maddy could sense a retreat. “I wish I could make you believe me… Look, I’m just a little hurt you didn’t feel you could tell me.”
“Force of habit,” he finally said. “I’ve been Nick Patrick for almost two years.
“Can’t you tell me why?”
He moved back a step. There was an interminable s
ilence. Then he said, “I will, if you tell me the truth about that picture.” Nick paused. “Because you did lie about that, and I want to know why.”
Maddy was about to agree, when the sound of the bathroom door closing brought them out of themselves.
Nick went into the bedroom. When a groggy Becky made her way back to the bed, he quietly asked, “Everything okay, sweetie?” She crawled under the sheet and nodded. “Did Maddy and I wake you up?” She sighed her “no,” and was asleep again within seconds. Nick bent to kiss her hair before leaving her to her dreams.
Maddy gave him a questioning look as he returned to the living room.
“We can’t do this now. I can’t risk Becky hearing anything.”
“I understand.” Her hand came up to rest lightly on his arm for just a moment, before dropping. “When?”
“Tomorrow night.”
Maddy gathered her things and they walked to the front door.
“I’ve been thinking, Nick. Maybe I shouldn’t go with you tomorrow.”
As the words left her lips, Nick suddenly – forcefully – pushed her against the door, and pinned her there. His mouth found hers. Out of nowhere, desire raged between them; a desire that came from unspoken misgivings and fear.
She was afraid of losing the tenuous progress they’d made.
His fear was even greater. He’d begun to trust her. He didn’t want to lose that. If he did, Nick was certain he’d never be able to trust himself, or anyone else, ever again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The annoying stiffness in his neck had become a full-blown tension headache by the time Nick drove south on I-5 and into the retina-searing setting sun.
Bad enough it was Sunday evening and he’d had to give Becky back. The day was made worse by the fact he’d had to go all the way up to Bellevue again because Janet couldn’t make their usual meeting place. The capper had been seeing Jim Kingston’s smug face.
Nick rolled his head from side to side, trying desperately to relieve the pain. All that did was help him discover new knots of tension. He knew what the problem was: his obsessive replaying of the day in his mind. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself. The day had gone from mildly irritating to the highest level on the stress-meter, and Nick had a sudden craving for something with codeine in it. Anything to anesthetize himself.
A Sea Change Page 18
