by Joan Wolf
He had never before minded the public life he led. He had privacy in his home, which was why he lived in Greenwich, and if the papers wanted to announce the name of every woman he dated, he hadn't cared. It hadn't mattered that much.
He didn't feel that way anymore. Now he wanted fiercely to protect his family from the spying eyes of strangers. But the only way to do that was to withdraw from the world, and that wouldn't be healthy for Ben.
It was the solution Katharine would have chosen, but Daniel didn't think it was healthy for her either. She needed to be drawn into life, not be given more of an excuse to back away.
What would it be like to have Katharine here in bed with me?
His response to that thought was instantaneous.
Good God, he thought, half in amusement and half in dismay. Now I'm never going to get back to sleep.
With a groan of resignation he got out of bed and headed for the shower.
The last notes of the "Star-Spangled Banner" floated through the stadium, and the crowd cheered lustily. Then the players put their caps back on, the crowd sat down, and Daniel got ready to pitch.
Originally, Daniel had got three seats for his mother, father, and Alberto, and then, when Kate changed her mind, he managed to get three more seats directly in front of his parents. Rafael and Victoria were sitting in their original seats, but Alberto was sitting next to Molly and Ben was directly behind Kate, because she was small and wouldn't block his view.
This was the first World Series game Molly had ever been to, and the electricity of the crowd amazed her. The Yankees had won the opening game the night before, and the fans were hungry for another victory.
How does he do it? Molly thought, looking at Daniel as he threw his warm-up pitches. How can he Junction in the middle of such mass hysteria?
The crowd quieted as the umpire put on his mask and crouched behind the catcher. Daniel sent in the first pitch, and the umpire's right arm went up, signaling a strike. Ben yelled, "Yeah!" and Molly turned to smile at him. His small face was aglow, and she felt her heart swell.
Thank God it was Daniel and not Marty, she thought.
Daniel retired the side in order. In the bottom of the first the Atlanta pitcher put two men on with walks, but the Yankees couldn't advance them.
And so the game progressed. Daniel didn't give up a hit until the fifth inning, but he got the next man to hit into a double play. As they entered the seventh inning stretch, the sole run in the game was a homer by Bernie Williams.
"Doesn't this team ever get Daniel any runs?" Kate asked in amazement. "I have been to three of his games and the most runs they have got him is two."
Rafael leaned forward. "He got better run support during the season, Kate. But you've been at the playoff games where Daniel is pitching against the best pitchers. There are fewer runs on both sides."
Alberto smiled.
"What is so amusing?" Molly asked.
He said softly, "Oh, I just find it entertaining to listen to Rafael spout baseball talk. He has become quite an expert. When I think of how unhappy he was that Daniel wanted to play baseball and not soccer, I have to smile."
"I didn't know that," Molly said in surprise. "His parents seem so proud of him."
"They are, Mrs. Foley. They are very proud of him. But, unlike Venezuela, Colombia is not a baseball country. Soccer is our sport, and Daniel was very good at soccer. But when Rafael was assigned to the United Nations, and the family came to live in New York, Daniel discovered baseball. After that, soccer was something he played in the fall while waiting for the baseball season to start again. It took a while for Rafael to adjust."
Molly smiled into the thin, sensitive face of the man sitting beside her. "Please, won't you call me Molly? As I explained earlier to the Monteros, we are used to informality in America."
He smiled back. His smile wasn't as spectacular as Daniel's, Molly thought, but it had great warmth. "If I call you Molly, then you must call me Alberto."
"Certainly," she said. "Alberto, have you known Daniel for a long time?"
"I have known him since he was born. Rafael and I were friends at the university, and we have remained friends ever since. We used to fantasize that Daniel would marry my daughter Elena, but the two of them had other plans."
"I didn't know you had a daughter."
"Yes, she lives in Bogota. Her husband is the president's press advisor."
"Have you any grandchildren?"
"A girl and a boy, four and two."
Molly smiled. "How lovely." She wanted to ask about his wife, but didn't want to sound pushy.
He volunteered the information. "My wife died three years ago from cancer."
Molly almost reached out to put her hand on his, but at the last moment she restrained herself. "I am so sorry. I know how it feels. I lost my husband to lung cancer ten years ago."
They looked at each other with the sympathy and increased interest of people who have known suffering.
"However do you come to be working for Daniel?" Molly asked.
"His previous secretary decided to go back to school for an MBA and left him in the lurch. I had been trying to write a novel, but between my duties at the university, and the demands of my grandchildren, I never seemed to get any time. So when Rafael suggested that by helping Daniel out I would get some time to write, I decided to try it. I took a sabbatical from the university and came to America."
"A novel! But I thought you were a math teacher."
A look of quizzical amusement came over his eyebrows and eyes. "Is it so impossible for a math teacher to write a novel?"
Molly laughed at herself. "Of course not. Do forgive me. How narrow-minded I must sound."
"It's all right. You are not the first person to have such a reaction."
'And have you gotten the time to write while working for Daniel?"
"Yes, I have. I write in the mornings and devote the rest of the day to his business. It has worked out very well. In fact, the book is finished."
"That's wonderful. Are you pleased with it?"
"I think I am. I am so close to it that it's hard to say if it's wonderful or terrible. I am going to send it to a publisher I know in Bogota and get his verdict."
"Mom, the inning has started."
Molly looked at the field, where a Yankee batter was digging in at the plate. "So it has." She turned back to Kate and noticed the TV camera zooming in on her daughter's face. Prudently she didn't mention it to Kate, who hated being filmed.
"It isn't just because of me," Daniel had told her the other night when they and Molly had been sitting over tea in the farmhouse kitchen. "You're a very beautiful woman. It's your own fault the cameramen love you."
His tone had been quiet and dispassionate, and Kate had not stiffened up at his comment on her looks. "It's your fault that they found me," she had retorted, and he had smiled and agreed that he must take the blame for that.
"Get a hit for God's sake," Kate said to the man at the plate and, as if he had heard her, the second baseman drove a long single into left.
"Good hit," Rafael called from behind Molly.
"Get another one," Victoria shouted.
"Yeah, don't let him just the there on first base," Kate muttered. "Move him over."
The next batter bunted the runner to second, to the approval of the stands. Then the leadoff man was up, and he worked out a walk. The shortstop came to the plate.
"Come on, Derek!" Ben screamed. "Hit a home run."
The pitcher quickly got ahead one ball and two strikes. Jeter proceeded to foul off the next five pitches, then the pitcher left the sixth pitch in the middle of the plate. The crack of the bat would have brought the crowd to its feet if it hadn't already been standing. The ball was drilled down the left field line, and the crowd held its breath to see if it would stay fair or go foul.
It went into the stands to the right of the foul pole and the stands went wild: Three Yankees crossed the plate.
"Four to n
othing," Kate crowed. "At least that gives Daniel something to work with."
As it turned out, Daniel did not need the extra three runs. He pitched eight innings of shutout ball, then Joe went to the Yankees ace reliever to finish off the game in the ninth, which he did.
When the game was over, Daniel came out of the dugout and Ben raced to the fence to talk to him. Kate followed. They spoke for a few moments, then Kate came back to report, "Daniel said that one of the security guards will see us to our cars. Let's get moving, Ben is tired."
"No, I'm not," Ben protested.
"Yes you are, you just don't know it yet," Kate returned.
Victoria laughed. "I used to say the same thing to Daniel."
Kate smiled. "Mom used to say it to me. It must be one of those universal mother things, passed down from generation to generation."
Alberto came back to them with a security guard in tow. "This gentleman has kindly offered to see us to our cars."
Molly put her hand on Ben's shoulder, and they all began to move up the stairs.
By the time they got home, Kate was tired. When she got into bed she fully expected to fall asleep instantly, but an hour later she was still awake, with pictures from the game going around and around in her mind.
This is ridiculous, she told herself. I have to get up at five-thirty to feed the horses. I need to get my sleep.
But still the image of Daniel, standing on the mound in solitary splendor, kept running through her mind.
How does he throw the ball so hard? He's a tall man, but he's not huge. He's not at all bulky. He's muscular like a cat, not a bodybuilder. Where does he get the power to throw so hard?
Ben had loved being at the game. She was glad she had changed her mind and let him go. If a father for Ben had to turn up, I suppose we could have done much worse than Daniel. If only he wasn't such a celebrity! That damn camera was all over us tonight.
Not that Ben cared. The more he was on television, the more he liked it. He evidently had become as big a celebrity in his school as Daniel was.
And that Kate didn't like. She wanted her son to have a normal childhood, with the chance to grow up in a normal way, and this had become more difficult with the addition of Daniel to the family. Of course, it was also normal for a boy to have a father, so she supposed Daniel had added something as well as taken something away.
Once the World Series is over he's going to want to be with Ben all the time. Maybe he can do some riding with him. Ben enjoyed himself that time they went out on a trail ride together. Maybe Daniel can convince him that riding is a masculine thing to do.
Kate had vowed not to force her son to ride if he didn't want to, but deep in her heart she couldn't understand why anyone wouldn't want to experience the deep joy of being one with a horse. She was offering him this tremendous gift, and it killed her that he wouldn't accept it because of some stupid sexist prejudice.
I should get Rafael to ride with him, too. Kate had had a few wonderful conversations with Daniel's father, and Rafael had promised to give her a dressage lesson when she could find the time. Kate had every intention of finding the time as soon as possible. Rafael had impressed her enormously. He had actually studied with Nuno Oliviero in Portugal, and he was training a young rider to be on Colombia's next Olympic team. Kate planned to take advantage of every bit of his knowledge that she could access.
I'll have to ride Shane. What a shame that Rafael didn't bring one of his Andalusians along with him. Kate had seen pictures of some of Rafael's horses and had been awed by their proud, powerful beauty.
I should have Ben watch while Rafael gives me a lesson. He thinks his grandpapa is great. Let him see that Grandpapa thinks horses are as important as baseball.
Gradually, her thoughts slowed down and became less logical. An hour after she got into bed, Kate finally fell asleep.
* * *
10
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The following day Kate spent part of the morning in her office with George Murray, who had been her closest friend for fifteen years. She was having a schooling show for her students at High Meadow at the end of the month, and George, who owned a neighboring farm, had been helping her to plan it.
"You ordered the ribbons?" he said, going down the checklist in his hand.
"Yes."
"And you've arranged for a caterer?"
"Yes."
"The judge is booked?"
"Yes."
"Do you have a farrier on call?"
"No. Joe can't do it that day."
"Hmm." George squinted at her, his light blue eyes fanned by a nest of sun wrinkles. "I suppose I can tack on a shoe if it comes loose."
"That would be great, George."
"How is that Thoroughbred gelding going for Nancy Kakos?"
"He's not. She's got too heavy a hand for him, and he has no patience for it. She needs a Warmblood."
"I know someone who's selling a nice Hanoverian."
"Millie Aldridge?"
"Yep. You've heard about it, I guess."
"I've started to look around. But I've also got to sell Aladdin. Nancy needs the money to buy another horse."
"It's not as easy to unload a hot Thoroughbred as it is a Warmblood."
"Tell me about it. I was thinking of Adam Saunders. Aladdin is really talented, but he's not the sort of horse a professional would buy for a client."
"You did."
"Yeah, and it didn't work out."
"You're just a sucker for Thoroughbreds, Kate. You get that from your dad."
"Dad always said that no other breed has the heart and courage of the Thoroughbred."
"Arabian lovers would dispute that."
"There were some notable occasions when they did," she retorted, and they both laughed.
"Did you hear that Tom Walker's mare foaled last night?"
"No. Did it go all right?"
"Went fine. A little filly."
"How nice."
They gossiped for another ten minutes, then George left. Kate leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and let the peace of the office enfold her. How many hours have I spent in this room with Daddy and George just talking horses? She opened her eyes and looked at the old armchair where George had been sitting. She pictured the scene in her mind, her father sitting behind the desk, George sitting in the armchair, and herself at seven years of age, sitting on the chair in the corner, drinking a cup of hot chocolate and listening to the men talk.
Everything I know about horses I learned in this room.
Kate had been devastated when her father had died. She had spent her life as his shadow, following him around the barn, watching him handle horses, teach horses, teach people how to ride horses. Tim Foley had been a charismatic Irishman, and people and horses had gravitated to him as naturally as flowers moved in the direction of the sun.
Unfortunately, Tim had not been as good a businessman as he was a horseman. When he died, Kate and Molly had discovered that the farm functioned on a month-to-month basis, and to cover the bad months Tim had dipped into the savings account he had established when he sold twenty acres of farmland to a developer. By the time he died, the savings account was almost empty.
Kate had wanted to take over running the farm immediately, but Molly had insisted that she go to college. So for three years she had gone to Southern Connecticut, living at home and teaching lessons when she could. Then Colleen had died, and Kate had quit school to take care of Ben. It was then that she had devoted herself to building up the business.
The single, most profitable thing Kate had done was to replace boarding horses with school horses and dramatically increase the lesson program. "School horses not only pay for themselves, they bring in money," she had told George. In her father's day, the emphasis had been on boarding and training horses; Kate threw her energies into the school, and the change in direction paid off. She didn't have the prestigious clients that her father had attracted, but she had dozens of kids taking less
ons and paying a good price to do so. The business was in the black.
I'd like to have Aladdin for myself, she thought. Shane, her own horse, with whom she had won numberless ribbons when she competed as a junior, was eighteen, and she basically just kept him in shape. She would love to have a younger horse to work with. . . .
Stop, she thought. I can't afford to buy Aladdin, and keep Aladdin, while I still have Shane. And I would never ever sell Shane. So stop daydreaming and get back to work.
She turned on her computer and was entering check payments when she heard a knock. "Come in," she called, and the door opened to admit Daniel. "What are you doing here?" she asked in surprise.
"I came to see you."
"Oh." Kate regarded him warily, wondering what new request he was likely to spring on her. "Come in and sit down."
He was dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt and he put her in mind of a panther as he prowled over to the chair recently vacated by George. He smiled. "Don't look like that, I've only come to thank you for letting Ben go to the game last night. It meant a lot to me."
Kate switched off her computer. "You're welcome, but you didn't have to drive over here to tell me that."
"I wanted to."
She looked into his eyes but all she saw there was honesty. She smiled as well. "I'm glad I let him, too. I just wish the damn television would leave us alone."
"I'm sorry about the television, Kate. I'm so used to it that I barely notice it anymore, but I can understand that to a private person like you it must seem like an invasion."
Kate held up a single forefinger. "That's exactly the word. Invasion. Everyone is entitled to some private space, and the press invades that. It's horrible."
His smile became a little crooked. "I know this will be hard for you to believe, but there are people who actually crave publicity."
"Then they must be people with no sense of self-worth," she said flatly.
His smile died. "There are people in this world, Kate, with so little sense of self-worth that they use other people—or sometimes ideologies—to give confirmation to their very existence. They can be very dangerous, people like that."
