“I tried last night. You weren’t there.”
He wouldn’t let her make him feel guilty. “I waited as long as I could, Kate.” He still held her hair and brought his head even with hers. “There are some things I can’t do without.”
His words, almost a challenge, were a whisper on her neck and she shivered. Her eyes closed. He let her hair fall back into place and walked out.
Kate drifted through the day, unable to shake off her hangover. She couldn’t read. Her eyes hurt too much. Watching TV made her head ache. In the end, she put a couple of classical CD’s on and simply sat. But that brought on thoughts of Mike and what he couldn’t do without, and she wondered who he was doing it with. It was only three o’clock, but the combined forces of lust and envy told her it was time to go to bed. She was asleep in minutes and didn’t wake until she heard the doorbell ring.
The room was dark and she honestly didn’t know what day it was, or whether it was early morning or late night. The doorbell chimed again as she snapped on the hall light and went downstairs.
“Oh, man. I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?” Matt stood on the porch, holding a short rope that was attached to Homer.
“It’s okay. What time is it?”
“About seven, I guess.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable that he’d interrupted her. “I just drove by to see if Mike wanted to go to a movie, and I found Homer down the street.” He held out the makeshift leash to Kate.
She took it from Matt. Thanking him, she turned to close the door, when Matt’s hand shot out, holding it open.
“Uh, would you like to go? To the movies?”
“I don’t think so, but thanks for asking.”
He moved in closer, leaning an arm on the doorframe. “Come on. My treat. I’ll even spring for some popcorn.”
“Really, Matt. No.” His persistence flattered her. There was something vaguely familiar about it. “This just isn’t the best time.” Kate looked up at him, and he smiled slowly. It was a knowing smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, transforming him from the nineteen-year-old boy he was, to an adult male.
“So, there’ll be a better time?”
She was mesmerized by his eyes, and he knew it. This realization moved her to action and she stepped back. “Yes, some other time. Thanks for bringing Homer back.”
Kate closed the door and breathed in deeply. She quickly decided it was the hangover that left her susceptible to his obvious charm. This was Sheryl’s little boy?
Turning her attention to the dog, she said, “I’ve got to get that fence fixed.”
Getting up at ten in the morning, followed by a four-hour “nap,” was not conducive to sleeping. Kate finally succumbed to the lure of a Johannisberg Riesling that had been cooling in the refrigerator.
Lately, the first glass left her languid—wanting. It had become the hardest time of the night for her. As she tipped back the glass, her hair brushed the nape of her neck, and she remembered Mike’s hands on her hair earlier that day. She also remembered willing him to touch her, but his fingers hadn’t strayed to her skin.
The second glass dulled her senses enough to forget, and the third finally put her back to sleep.
She’d set the alarm for eight, and when it went off, the first thing she did was pick up the glass and bottle and carry them into the kitchen. The glass went in the dishwasher, the bottle back in the refrigerator. He wouldn’t know. She’d keep it out of sight from now on.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
The rain continued into Sunday. The house seemed very empty without Mike’s and Matt’s heavy footsteps and masculine voices. She’d always hated Sundays. It was a holdover from her childhood. Sunday had meant dresses, and church, and a quiet lunch, and an afternoon that stretched out endlessly to a quiet dinner, and early to bed for school the next day. Even though none of these little rituals followed Kate into adulthood, the feeling had never left her.
A phone call from Donna Estes had further darkened her mood, and not even the weekly call to her mother helped Kate’s spirits. She’d gone to the front window to see if Mike’s truck was parked in its usual spot. It wasn’t, and she frowned, watching the rain come down.
She still stood there when a car pulled up behind hers, and Matt jumped out and ran to the porch. Kate stepped behind the curtain as he knocked on the door. She wanted to hide, but knew her car gave away the fact she was home.
Kate reluctantly opened the door.
“I’m here to kidnap you,” Matt stated.
“Excuse me?”
“We were about to start a game of Trivial Pursuit, and Uncle Mike sent me to get you.” She began to beg off, when Matt interrupted her. “I was told not to take no for an answer. Sorry.” He grinned.
Mike groaned theatrically, then read the question off the card. “What group backed up Wayne Fontana?” He ignored his nephew, knowing he wouldn’t have a clue, and looked at Kate, Matt’s partner.
“The Mindbenders,” Kate announced smugly, placing a pink wedge in their game piece.
Mike shoved the card back into the box. “Why do you always get questions like, ‘What’s your middle name?’ and we get ‘What was the date and hour Einstein developed his theory of relativity?’ ”
“Karma,” she answered, rising from the armchair she’d been sitting in for the past half hour. She stepped over Mike’s legs and walked around the big, square coffee table the game board rested on, making her way to the fireplace. Kate held her hands out to the coal fire. Matt, who had been sitting on the hearth, made room for her to join him.
Kate hadn’t called Mike’s sister since their lunch, but, then Sheryl hadn’t called, either. If there was one thing they had in common, it was a willful obstinance.
She knew that Mike’s bullying her into coming had been a ploy, and it had worked. Kate had walked through Sheryl’s front door, thrown off her coat, and said, “Two women against two men hardly seems fair. I think we should share the wealth. That way at least one of the guys has a chance of winning.”
Sheryl laughed and Kate then said, “I’ll take Matt.”
The warmth of the fire reflected the way she felt in this room, with these people. Cozy, safe, loved. She was very glad she’d come.
“Come on, Matt. Roll the dice,” Sheryl was saying.
Their game piece landed on a Sports square and Mike said, “I give up,” then read the question, which Matt aced.
The team of Kate and Matt finally missed one. Matt pulled the card for the next question, and laughed. “Here’s one I know you’ll get,” he said, looking at his uncle. “What lunch meat did British comedy group Monty Python immortalize in song?”
Sheryl snorted, as Mike gave Matt a deadly look.
“Is that really a question?” Mike asked.
“Yeah! Right here. Wanna sec?”
“Well? What’s your answer?” Kate said, curious at the reaction the question was getting.
“Spam,” Mike said, chagrined.
“What’s so funny?” Kate asked, as Sheryl and Matt burst into laughter.
“It’s one of those family skeletons we try to keep hidden. Spam”—Sheryl made a gagging noise—“is one of Mike’s favorite—and I use the term loosely—lunch meats.”
“Spam?” Kate looked at Mike for confirmation. “Since when?”
“Since he was a kid,” Sheryl answered for him.
“And I thought I knew you,” Kate teased. “I’m devastated.” The expression on Mike’s face told her he’d been through this many times before.
“Can we get on with this game, please?” Mike snapped.
Another hour sped by, and the two teams were tied.
“Matt, throw some more coal on the fire. I’m going to order the pizza,” Sheryl said.
“Be sure to order the Spam Surprise,” Kate said on her way to get another Coke.
Mike grabbed her ankle as she walked by, pulling her down to the carpet next to him. In a low voice, he asked, �
��You won’t hold this against me, will ya?”
Matt looked over his shoulder at the two of them.
Mike’s fingers still clung to her, and she leaned toward him. “Gosh, I don’t know, Mike. Spam? That’s pretty scary. How did this happen?”
Picking up her cue, he said seriously, “It started small. You know … first it’s a can of Vienna sausage. Then that’s not enough. You move to corned-beef hash. Pretty soon you’re hooked on the really hard stuff. You just have to have that rectangular blue can. I remember one day my mom’s supply ran out and I had to go out on the streets to score eight ounces. That’s when I knew I was an addict, and I’d do anything to hold that little key in my hand.”
Kate looked at him sympathetically. “Was it the actual taste? Or was it the slurping sound it makes when it slides out of the can?”
“It was everything.”
Placing her hand on his cheek, she solemnly said, “Surely there must be groups that help with this sort of thing. Spam-eaters Anonymous?’
He looked at her with sorrowful eyes. “I’ve tried, Kate. But I couldn’t make it past the second step to a Spam-free life.”
“Well, I’m here for you, Mike.”
“It’s good to know.” He released her ankle, but instead of getting up, she settled in next to him.
“The pizza should be here in about half an hour.” Sheryl’s voice preceded her. When she saw Kate and Mike sitting side by side, their backs against the couch, she asked, “Did we change partners while I was gone?”
Matt looked up from the fire, which he’d been assiduously tending since the verbal exchange between Mike and Kate had begun.
Mike draped his arm over Kate’s shoulders. “I say we start a new game. This time the Silver Screen version.”
“We don’t stand a chance against you two,” Sheryl complained.
“Exactly.”
• • •
“Anyone want this last piece?” Matt asked, his hand already reaching for the slice of pizza.
Sheryl, Mike, and Kate simultaneously said, “It’s yours.”
Mike had moved up to the couch, and now Kate leaned back against his legs.
“I meant to ask you …” She directed her question to Mike. “How was the movie?”
“What movie?” he asked.
Kate peered at Matt. He gave her a pleading look, and she quickly said, “I thought I heard you mention something about going to see a movie. Guess I was wrong.”
Sheryl began clearing the debris from the coffee table. “So, I hear you got a call from Donna today.”
Kate made a face. “Yeah, she just knew how busy I was, so she took it on herself to call me. I was thrilled,” she deadpanned. “How did you know?”
“Donna feels the need to report any dealings with you to me. God knows why.”
“Who’s Donna?” Matt asked.
“The head of our reunion committee,” Mike answered.
“And a general pain in the ass,” Kate added.
“Well, she was ecstatic that you agreed to be there for the dedication.”
“That’s all I agreed to.”
“What dedication?” Matt asked.
“You ask a lot of questions,” Mike stated.
“It’s okay, Mike.” Kate’s eyes focused on a lamp across the room. “The high school is dedicating the new gym to Paul. On the date he died.”
“That must be hard for you,” Matt said, watching her.
Her eyes found his. “Yes. Very hard.”
The change in Kate was felt by everyone in the room. Mike’s hands stole to her shoulders and began a gentle, reassuring massage.
“I hope you don’t mind me telling you this,” Matt began before anyone could stop him. “But I met Paul a couple of times when I was a kid. He was great.”
Mike and Sheryl exchanged glances, but didn’t say anything.
“Really? Isn’t that funny that Paul knew you before I did?” Kate said softly. “When was it?”
Mike stepped in. “I took him to a game in Philadelphia once. What were you, Matt? Eight?”
“Nine. It was incredible! But I’ll never forget him showing up at my Little League game on my thirteenth birthday. Remember, Mom?”
Kate looked at Sheryl. “You never told me.”
“Really? It was so long ago, I guess it didn’t seem important.”
“Paul never told me, either,” Kate said, almost to herself.
“Well, I think you were in San Francisco, and the season had just opened in New York …”
Sheryl was floundering and Mike jumped in to save her. “Yeah, and I got in touch with him for Sheryl.”
“I can’t believe no one ever told me,” Kate said thoughtfully. Then she gathered herself together, and gave Matt a small smile. “I’m glad he could do that for you. He loved kids.”
Sheryl saw the tears in Kate’s eyes, and she heard the unspoken words. He always wanted kids. She flashed a warning look at Mike, but it was too late.
Kate pulled away from Mike’s hands and struggled to get up. “Excuse me.” She was leaving the room. “I’ll be right back.”
When they heard the bathroom door close and lock, Mike spoke to Matt in a low voice filled with anger. “I told you not to mention him. Didn’t I?”
“I’m sorry,” Matt said, his apology heartfelt. “I didn’t mean to upset her.”
Mike turned to Sheryl, his eyes burning into hers, his lie hanging over them.
Finally, Sheryl spoke. “I’m sorry I put you on the spot, Mike. Paul’s visit was my idea. I thought it would be a terrific gift for Matt.” Then, almost defensively, she said, “He was my friend, too.”
Kate stared at her reflection in the mirror. Bitterness welled up in her and her mouth twisted in anger. Why couldn’t he tell her he’d gone to see Mike’s nephew? Had he been afraid of hurting her? And, in all honesty, how could he have hurt her any more than he already had?
Kate is staring at the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. Holidays are the worst for her, when she aches for a child the most. She can picture the two of them, shopping, wrapping, putting together bikes and swing sets on Christmas Eve. Playing Santa to the delighted eyes of a child. But her thirty-first birthday has just passed, and they have given up.
The initial tests have proved that it is Kate’s body that is the traitor. She’s had irregular periods since puberty. Her doctor started her on birth control pills at the age of nineteen and she has taken them for three years. She waited a year after she and Paul were married. When it was obvious he had a career in baseball, she threw them in the garbage, and tried to get pregnant. A year went by. The late periods always turned out to be just that. Late.
The first doctor told them to relax and it would happen. It didn’t. The second tried hormone therapy with no results. And another year of frustration had passed. The fertility clinic put them through more tests and then tried drugs. Again, nothing. They had high hopes for artificial insemination, but after two attempts, Paul had finally said, “Enough.”
He’s told her it’s all right. Not to blame herself. They don’t need children to be happy. But he has begun pulling away from her. Not physically. Never physically. But she can sense the distance, nevertheless. She remembers overhearing a conversation between her father and mother, when they had understood something was wrong in Kate’s marriage. Her mother had said, “I just think Paul would seem more married if they had a child.”
It is only in the past couple of years that Kate has thought about adoption. She has brought the subject up only once, but at the time Paul didn’t seem interested.
“Kate?” Paul’s voice brings her out of her reverie. “What are you doing in here? I thought we were going out for dinner.”
“Can we talk for a few minutes?”
“Sure, but I’m starving, so make it quick.”
“Please, Paul. This is important. Can you sit down?”
He catches the seriousness in her tone, and quickly sits on the chair facing
her. “What is it, Katie?”
She looks into his concerned hazel eyes and thinks she has a chance. She begins speaking before she loses her nerve. “Paul, you know how hard Christmas is for me. I know we can’t do anything about it this year, but I’d like to adopt a baby. I’m thirty-one years old. I want a child to love, and I don’t care if I didn’t give birth to it. I need this—”
“I don’t want to adopt, Kate. You know that.”
“But why?” She tries to keep her voice steady. “If we can’t have our own—”
“If we can’t have our own,” he interrupts, “we won’t have any. End of discussion.”
“No! You have to give me a good reason why, Paul!”
“I would never feel like it was mine. I couldn’t love it.” He reaches for her hands and takes them in his, trying to placate her. “I’m just being honest with you, Kate.”
Her eyes drop to the floor, and she whispers, “I need someone to take care of, Paul. Right now I don’t feel like I can live without it.”
“Don’t be silly, Kate. You’ve got me.”
“It’s not enough.” A tear slips down her cheek. “Why can’t you understand that? Can’t you at least think about it?”
He sighs, exasperated. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
But they both know he won’t, and the subject is never mentioned again. And this Christmas he does one of the stupidest things he’s ever done. He gives her Homer.
Paul is as excited as a child. When she opens the large box and sees the squirming black puppy, her eyes narrow and in a barely controlled voice says, “How could you?”
She runs from the room and doesn’t speak to him again that day. He goes to his mother’s in Charlottesville alone, and when he returns that night finds their bed empty. She is asleep in the guest room.
Paul lifts the covers and lies down next to her. The movement brings her awake. He runs a finger down her spine. Moving his hand to her hip, he pulls her close to him. “Katie, I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Please forgive me. I know it was a really dumb thing to do, but I just wanted to give you something that you could take care of, and maybe just love a little.”
Remember the Time Page 13
