by Geeta Kakade
A sensation she tried to ignore detonated in the pit of Kate’s stomach spreading a searing heat through her entire system. As it ebbed, her insides iced over and she had to clamp down hard on the inside of her mouth to stop her teeth chattering.
He had bought Cody in every morning this week and lingered, exchanging remarks about the little boy with her, while his eyes sped to her soul and unwrapped the secrets she had stored there.
Never had Kate felt so alive, so vibrant, so aware of herself as a woman. Every morning heady anticipation gripped her till he came in and then it seemed as if the twenty four hours that followed couldn’t go quickly enough, till she caught her next glimpse of him.
“It’s spring,” her brain had tried to explain the oddness of her behavior with logic. “Spring does odd things to people’s feelings.”
“It’s Brady,” her heart had answered back unequivocally.
There was something about the man that reached out to her as nothing ever had and Katie had to remind herself forcibly, time and again, that Brady wasn’t part of her plan. It was ridiculous to react like this to a man she saw for barely fifteen minutes every day, even if he did have eyes like liquid silk.
“Cody left at twelve,” Katie wondered why her tired blood was surging through her body like the waters of the mighty Niagara. Usually, at this hour on a Friday night, it barely managed to flow to her extremities.
“I know. I was waiting for you.”
`Just like I have been doing all week,’ Brady wanted to add. `Waiting for some sign or a word from you that you know what this is between us. But for some reason you’re afraid to acknowledge it and I’m not waiting any longer.’
“For me?” Katie said stupidly looking over her shoulder as if she expected to see a clone of herself there, the real object of his attentions.
Brady nodded, “Come and have dinner with me.”
She had agreed and was sitting in Brady’s car, on the freeway before she realized what she was doing. Too late, she remembered something, “My car. It’s still outside the school.”
“We’ll pick it up later. Don’t worry.”
Katie sighed to herself as she leaned back against the dark blue leather seat.
How could she agree like a nincompoop to go along with everything he said, as if he were a hypnotist? One who only had to open his mouth to reduce her to a state of willing subjection?
He had invaded her mind like those science fiction shows on television, and if she wasn’t careful he would take it over. There was no room in her life for this man. Why had she agreed to have dinner with him? She wasn’t even dressed for it. She didn’t even know where they were heading. His navy blue Volvo was on the 60 Freeway heading west. All that told her was that he hadn’t wanted to stop in the village for pizza or Mexican food, the only two restaurants there were in Jacaranda Meadows. A nervous hand raked through her hair and then tried to dab at the stain of navy blue paint a young enthusiast had got on her pale green pants.
“You look just fine,” he said and Katie scowled like one of the three year olds in her class. What did the man do in his free time. Psychic readings?
He took the second exit off the freeway and minutes later they were pulling up in front of a fast food joint. Katie heaved a sigh of relief unaware it came out loud.
"I take it you like this place?” The teasing query brought a flush to her cheeks.
`Yes,” she said simply as she got out.
The older couple who ran it had a very simple menu but the food had a homemade taste that had lines outside at mealtimes.
Wooden picnic benches, red and white striped umbrellas; the atmosphere suggested casual, comfy and unpretentious.
Katy felt herself relax.
She didn’t want Brady spending his money on her, taking her to some fancy place. Things like that didn’t impress her in the least. Nor was she the kind to lead a man a merry dance. He couldn’t be making more than she did and to judge from his taste in clothes and cars, his budget must be shot. Unlike Harold’s. She enjoyed going to nice places with Harold because he could afford it. Besides, Harold wouldn’t dream of going anywhere else.
She couldn’t picture Harold here. In fact, for a few seconds, Katie found she couldn’t picture Harold at all.
That scared her and she was very quiet while they ordered their meal and carried it to a table by the window.
“Dollar for them?”
At the questioning lift of her brows Brady chuckled.
“Inflation,” he explained, "A penny is no longer enough for thoughts. So, will a dollar persuade you to share them with me?”
Kate swallowed hard, “I shouldn’t really be here. I have a psychology paper to finish for next week and....”
And she wasn’t sure Harold would understand this.
“How do you manage everything?” Brady asked, “The teaching, the college classes, the baby sitting, your private life?”
“It’s not hard if you’re organized. A lot of people have similar lifestyles. Some are even married with young kids on top of everything else. I have classes on Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons and I work only till twelve at the preschool on those days. On Mondays and Thursdays I have evening classes. I baby sit twice a month which gives me two free weekends. Harold and I always see each other on Wednesdays. The weekends are his busiest times, but sometimes on a Sunday night, if we’re both free, we get together.”
Brady filed all the information away before asking “Why wouldn’t you let Karen pay you for watching Cody on Wednesday?”
Kate’s eyes widened with astonishment, “How could I take her money when I didn’t do a thing?”
“You were there. You gave up your time.”
And he’d felt like a first class heel when Karen had told him why Miss Kate wouldn’t accept the money.
She didn’t say anything and for a while they ate in silence.
“Did Harold like his gift?” That he wasn’t going to get any prizes for tact was obvious but he had to know.
"Very much.”
“He hasn’t proposed yet?”
Why did her voice have to sound so stiff? There was nothing in Brady’s voice to offend and Kate forced herself to say civilly, "We were supposed to go out last Wednesday but his mother was sick and he couldn’t leave her.” After all, she’d been the one to tell Brady about Harold in the first place. Maybe all he was doing was making polite conversation.
She looked up and the fierceness burning in the gray eyes across from her startled her. Something in her expression must have conveyed her feelings because his eyes gentled instantly, assuming their normal, in depth attack on her senses.
“Here,” his hand came up with a napkin and he dabbed at the corner of her mouth, “you have some mustard on your cheek.”
Gray eyes collided with green again and she felt the hand on her mouth tremble as seconds ticked by coalescing into a minute and the air around them became charged with emotion. Suddenly Kate found difficulty breathing.
“If you’ve had enough, shall we leave?”
She nodded. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she think of something light and witty to say to break the spell his touch had created, relegate it to what it was? Just a friendly gesture.
The car pulled up again and Kate looked up surprised. They were at the park. It was deserted again, except for a few boys kicking a soccer ball at one end.
“Katie we’ve got to talk,” the seriousness of Brady’s tone cut off any inquiries.
Kate got out and they strolled down the path, surrounding the area. The new growth on the jacaranda provided an umbrella of shade. The atmosphere was supercharged and she had the same feeling she did before a storm. Keyed up tension stretched to the limit.
Brady waited till she stopped and then he said, “You’re not going to marry Harold you know.”
“Oh?”
He had her full attention now. She was looking at him as if he had stepped out of the pages of Ripley’s believe it or not.
“No. You’re going to marry me.”
Hang all the courting and the gradual leading up to it he had planned. Hang everything. He couldn’t stand the thought of that fellow putting his ring on Katie’s finger.
The silence stretched on for so long, Brady wondered if she’d heard him and then her voice came out flat, empty, sad. “That’s a joke.”
Reaching out he placed a hand on her arm and turned her to face him. “It’s no joke Katie. You’re mine. We belong together.”
Something sparked in her at the words, exploding in her brain with a burst of pain. Kate McArthur would never belong to anyone except herself. Wrenching her arm out of his grasp she said clearly, “No we don’t. You don’t know what you’re talking about. I care for Harold.”
The name set a match to his mood. Brady reached out and pulled her into his arms, deliberately drawing her close till the tips of her breasts grazed the hard rigidity of his chest.
Holding her there, he took his time surveying her flushed face and said, “Care? I care for my dog, the people I work with, friends. That’s no basis for marriage. What we have between us, is.”
“What’s that?” she challenged unmistakable anger flaring in the green depths, darkening her eyes to malachite.
“This.”
His mouth came down to hers and Brady knew he wasn’t mistaken. His lips touched and tasted, insisting on a response as the fire in him swept over both of them drawing them into the very heart of the conflagration, their newborn need to get closer to each other, driving them to it’s very heart.
She strained against him soft and willing, devoid of coherent thought, in the thrall of this ache spiraling within her demanding absolution, her mouth opening under his to allow Brady entrance to the very center of her being. No one had ever made her feel like this before.
Brady gave a crow of triumph when they finally paused to take gulps of air into their starving lungs.
“There!”
The word was like a glass of icy water flung on the heat inside her. Talk about lunacy!
“For God’s sake, don’t!” The ashen face, the hand raised to fend him off as he drew her closer again, the broken plea in her voice poleaxed him.
"What the....?” He let her step out of reach. "Are you trying to tell me that you aren’t feeling the power of what’s between us? It’s bigger than both of us Katie.”
Kate moved another few steps away as if unwilling to risk contamination from his words.
“Don’t you see,” she said, her hands coming up to rub her arms as if to erase the memory of his touch, “that no matter what, I have to marry Harold?”
She was a dozen yards away before he absorbed what he had heard. Angry strides carried him past her, planting him squarely in her path, halting her progress abruptly.
“What do you mean, have to?” he asked dangerously.
He couldn’t have been so wrong. Or could he?
“You wouldn’t understand,” limpid mossy pools stared hopelessly up at him.
“Try me,” said Brady in a tone his adversaries recognized and quailed at.
A shaking hand raked through the crop of red gold curls, then returned to her side as she stared unseeingly past his shoulder.
“All my life I’ve been poor, Brady. Not just regular poor but dirt poor. You have to experience it to know what the means.” The laugh that left Katie’s lips was directed at the past she spoke of. It held no mirth. “When I was growing up someone told me that people like us lived on one side of the tracks, the wrong side, the rest of the world on the other. It became very important to me to get on the other side. Harold is my passport, no, my insurance. With him I will always be on the right side of the tracks and that’s the only thing that matters to me.”
Brady felt light headed with relief. Was that all? He opened his mouth to tell Katie what he really did for a living but she continued, “I don’t have what it takes to be the wife of a shop assistant. I’ve had it, with struggling, making ends meet, planning and saving. I don’t believe in love, only in security. Financial security. The kind Harold has. Once and for all, leave me alone Brady.”
Something chilled in Brady and iced over at her words. This wasn’t supposed to be in the script. Was this any way for a missing rib to talk when faced with a chance to return to its place of origin? This couldn’t be his Katie standing in front of him and saying she didn’t believe in love. Brady tried to equate what he had just heard with his feelings for her and found he couldn’t.
Kate gave a brittle laugh. Brady’s silence told her how taken aback he was but he had left her with no other choice. She’d had to show her hand to force him to stop this recklessness.
“Not only do I have to marry Harold,” Kate said hating her voice for trembling, “I want to. He’s the only person who can make everything alright for me.”
Brady opened his mouth to argue but the weariness in her eyes stopped him. She looked drained, like a child who couldn’t take any more, and his heart melted all ever again.
Silently, he turned and walked beside her back to his car.
Kate had never been more miserable. She didn’t really want all those things, just the freedom from fear of being poorer than a church mouse ever again. Since Brady had dropped her in the parking lot of the preschool Monday night, she had been unable to get the man out of her mind. It was as if he was a genie whose touch had changed her into a different Kate. One who wanted to get her teeth into the original apple. The feel of his hard body was branded into her flesh, the rich warmth of his lips as they had moved over hers burnt into her brain, leaving her with an odd restless longing for more of the same. She had barely slept that night but all her mental meanderings had brought her back to the same point. A lifetime of security was not to be thrown away for a few moments of madcap transitory passion.
“Kathryn will you marry me?” Kate looked at Harold down on one knee holding out a velvet box to her. The sight left her cold.
“Katie, you’re mine!” The ghostly whisper in her ears was as clear as if Brady was beside her. Even now her blood coursed through her like a fire at the memory.
What had gone wrong? For six months she had thought about this day, about being Mrs. Harold Jensen. And now. Her stomach turned and Kate’s hand stiffened in Harold’s grasp.
An image intruded on her mental screen. A gangling awkward girl being dosed with castor oil by a mother who had looked on it as the cure for all ills. Her stomach had churned just this way then too in revolt.
"Kathryn?” He looked surprised.
"I need time to think about it, Harold,” she said gently, noting the flash of annoyance that marred his perfect features for a moment.
A good night’s sleep was what she needed. It was just that she was tired and couldn’t think straight. In the morning everything would be fine.
Harold got to his feet. “All girls do”, he conceded but there was a note in his voice that said he wasn’t pleased.
Looking back Kate wondered if things would have been different if Harold had mentioned love. True, outside the house he had tried to sweep her into his arms but she had slipped from the car with a swift, "thank you and goodnight Harold.”
Then she had run up the flight of stairs to her apartment as if all the devils in Hell were after her. Way to go Kate!
Kate closed her eyes. If she felt like this now what would it be like to be married to the man. The greasy sensation of castor oil in her mouth returned peremptorily editing the picture of her love making with Harold.
It wasn’t Harold’s fault. He had never made any attempt to hide what he was and until Monday she had really believed he was her future and her happiness. Did the fact she was thinking like this prove that Brady had guided her just in time to the realization that she could feel more for a man than she had led herself to think? If so, who was that man? Brady?
No, she wouldn’t let infatuation ruin her. She would just have to keep looking. Luckily, Harold wasn’t the only rich man left
in the world.
With a pang, Kate remembered the hundred odd dollars she had spent on his birthday gift. She could have done so much with that money.
"A fool and his money are soon parted,” she told herself whimsically, "Let it be a lesson to you, Kathryn McArthur.”
Maybe he would be the perfect gentleman and return it. After all, girls returned rings didn’t they?
Stifling her first giggle in days, Kate paused, a fresh thought occurring to her. Harold had taken it for granted she’d drop everything once they were married. Her job, the classes she was taking. Which showed how much he knew of her. But then Harold had never been interested in her work or the classes she was taking at Cal Poly. Harold didn’t know her favorite color, the flavor of ice cream she liked best, her fears or her dreams. Harold was only interested in Harold.
Who did he think he was marrying? A walkie talkie doll with a key in her side? One his mother and he could wind up at will? The smile faded from her lips. That was exactly what she would have let herself become if it hadn’t been for one man. Brady. Even if nothing came of their relationship, he had steered her toward the light. She would get over him too.
Oh yeah? He’s not going to let you get over him.
Rushing into her bathroom Kate turned both taps in her washbasin on full and tried to drown out her traitorous thoughts.
Saturday. Katie lay still in her bed turning her head sideways for the glimpse of sky through the curtains. Her birthday. She was four today. Harold seemed to have forgotten her birthday completely; not mentioning anything about spending the day together or a date. Even Nan Kettle had remembered, slipping her a gaily wrapped package yesterday with a hug and a kiss.
Snuggling down in her soft, cream colored quilt, Kate decided to take stock of her life. This apartment in one of the best areas in Jacaranda Meadows was a far cry from the little, paint blistered house and even if the rest of her plans weren’t working out exactly like the mental blueprint she had drawn up, at least she was headed in the right direction. Meanwhile she liked her work, had one good friend in Nan Kettle, and intended making the best of things till the next eligible candidate came her way.
