Mr. Wrong (A Homespun Romance)

by Geeta Kakade

  She dozed on the way home, sliding out of it when the car stopped, to reluctantly open her eyes. It was almost midnight, time for her fairy godmother to go off duty.

  “Thank you Brady,” Kate mumbled, "you’re the best friend a girl could ever have.”

  But one little kiss wouldn’t have hurt. Just a tiny token of... of....well, never mind.

  Brady wondered how much it would cost to take out a full page ad. in the Los Angeles Times that read, `Today goes down in History as the day I won Katie’s trust. The tiny print at the bottom would continue, `Even though it almost killed me’.

  Walking had always been Kate’s favorite exercise and she’d spent other days in the foothills of the San Gabriel mountains hiking, a rucksack on her back, with only her thoughts for company.

  All day yesterday she had tried to balance what she felt with what she knew and it hadn’t worked. The side on the seesaw representing reason stayed up, no matter what cautions she piled on its end.

  Cleaning her apartment, going on a three mile walk and then applying herself to a term paper had been local anesthetic that had worn off as soon as the task was completed and by nightfall Kate had known she needed to sort the contents of her head out, thankful that Brady was probably busy celebrating Mother’s day with his family.

  The fact she had pined for him all of the week that followed disturbed Kate. She made every excuse possible not to see him but she couldn’t get him out of her head.

  She finished term papers, cleaned the flat, took an exam, cleaned the flat, baby sat over the weekend for a couple with a nine month old, but she still couldn’t convince herself what the right thing to do was.

  The fact she needed to get away from everything, to give herself time to get back in touch with what she really wanted had become imperative enough for her to ask Nan if it would be alright to take a personal day off on Monday.

  Usually when one of them was off, the other teacher combined both the three year old classes. Substitutes were hard to get at the preschool level and even if they could get one, the person usually acted as helper in the combined class which was easier on the children than having to be around a stranger.

  “Of course,” Nan had approved generously, “You don’t even have to ask. Didn’t you do all those days for me in the winter when my arthritis wouldn’t let me come in? You didn’t want me to tell you how much it helped to know there was someone who wouldn’t take her temper out on the kids just because their teacher couldn’t come in. The woman before you would turn milk into cheese with a look if I mentioned pain. Almost scared me out of the arthritis, that one did. It will be a pleasure to return the favor. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

  So, here Kate was trudging up the steepest trail she knew, a slight breeze cooling the sweat almost before it oozed, while her mind pushed down on the rewind button for last week

  Monday had started like any other day. On her walk, Kate had noticed the light purple blossoms misting the jacarandas with pleasure. In a few weeks they would all be in full bloom synchronizing like a well-orchestrated symphony, confirming her opinion that there was no nicer place in the world to live in than Jacaranda Meadows.

  Nan quick to notice the smile in her eyes, the light golden tan that seemed to have its own luster, had said, “I can see it’s been a good weekend.”

  Kate had put her bag away, clocked in and gone out to the playground. It was her turn to supervise the children outside.

  She had been pushing another three year old on the swing when Cody had run up to her and announced importantly, “I brought flowers for you, Miss Katie.”

  She had smiled at the way he used his uncle’s name for her. Soon the whole school would be calling her that. And she didn’t mind.

  “Thank you Cody.”

  “Miss Nan put them in water Miss Katie, so they won’t die. The roses are from me and the li’l blue ones from Uncle Brady.”

  Kate’s heart had effortlessly overtaken the swing as it arced towards the sky. Brady had sent her flowers. Little blue ones.

  “Is your uncle staying with you?” she’d asked aiming at nonchalance.

  "Nope. He called me ‘n said to bring the li'l blue ones ‘n to give you a mess..mess..”

  "Message?” The playground seemed to brighten as if someone had passed a magic filter in front of the sun.

  "Yup,” the little brow furrowed with concentration, "Uncle Brady said to tell you thank you.”

  Kate had lost herself in dreams till Cody had enquired, “Did I do it right, Miss Katie?”

  She had squeezed his little shoulder affectionately and said, “You did great, Cody. I’m going to tell your Uncle you’re the best messenger in the whole world.”

  Satisfied the little boy had run off towards the sandbox.

  The forget-me-nots had been a tangible reminder of Sunday, promoting memories as real as Brady’s presence had been. A presence she wanted to bask in forever, like a flower the sun’s.

  By the time she’d gotten to the end of the week, Kate had felt like a tumbleweed at the mercy of the wind. Her jousting emotions and will had left her limp. They seemed to go round and round in a circle, neither gaining or losing ground. She had enjoyed being with Brady more than she had ever enjoyed any day in her life. Too much. She needed to distance herself to think. Hiking had always cleared her mind in the past.

  Kate paused, taking in the scene below her. Somewhere to her right, buried in the heart of Los Angeles was the house she had grown up in. Was the paint on the front door still a dirty mustard yellow, Kate wondered, or had someone given it a fresh coat. Who lived there? A happier family than the three McArthur’s had been, she hoped. Kate poked in the ashes, trying to pick out one single happy memory in her childhood but it was like looking for orchids in the desert. There just weren’t any.

  Yet the more time she spent with Brady, the harder it became to hold on to the pain. The desire to stretch out towards what he offered, taste of the love he spoke of, forget her past, was beginning to override everything else.

  After her mother died, Kate had gone to a therapist. The comprehensive medical insurance her job as cashier entitled her to had covered the cost. For a year she had seen Dr. Margot Ransome every week and talked out the story of her life, knowing that if she didn’t reach for help she might be beyond needing it soon.

  Unearthing memories she didn’t know were stored within her had been frightening. There had been a time of poignant soul searching before she could finally accept that she had been the victim of circumstances not the cause of them. At the last visit Dr. Ransome had said, "You don’t need me any more Kate. You’ve sorted it all out. Don’t let it spoil the rest of your life. You’re strong, beautiful, intelligent. Don’t be afraid to reach out to the future. It will be what you make of it, not an extension of the past over which you had no control. Good luck.”

  Now, reaching out for what she wanted equated with foolishness. Kate forced herself to look at life with Brady a few years down the line. What would happen to all that charm when faced with a family, responsibilities, the ties that bound and gagged? For them it wouldn’t be a laughing matter. Out of sheer worry she would become a prize nag and drive him away. Brady would never be able to give up his easy going life style.

  Besides, changing someone, imposing one’s desires on another human being, expecting him to squeeze himself into her preconceived mold, would never work even if she had the stomach for it.

  No! Brady had to be discouraged for his own good. As she was the one forged in the furnace of hardship, it was up to her to be strong for both of them now. If she hadn’t succeeded in persuading him it would never work between them by the end of June, she would move. Far out of range of a pair of gray eyes that could shred will into scrap, in seconds.

  Kate continued with her climb, pushing her body to its limit in an effort to take the edge off the grieving her heart insisted on.

  Brady couldn’t understand it. Kate had avoided him all of last week as if he had r
ushed her into something instead of being the perfect gentleman it had almost crippled him to be.

  She hadn’t returned his call last Tuesday. When he’d turned up at the school Wednesday she’d barely glanced at him on her way out, telling him she had other plans for the evening. His siege Friday evening had been unrewarding as well. Barely pausing in her rush to leave she’d said she was babysitting that weekend. When he’d asked for a telephone number where he could reach her, Kate had pretended she hadn’t heard him, driving away with a smile and a wave.

  What frustrated him was that on the surface she seemed to be treating him just like the friend he’d told her he wanted to be. Yet there was something about her, the over-bright smiles, the too polished sentences that told him there was more to all this than met the eye. Maybe she was seeing someone else who met all her criterion.

  So much for being the perfect gentleman, thinking it would enhance him in her eyes. He’d still be practicing his courtly kiss-your-fingers-only style when Kate ran off and married someone a whole lot less noble. His parents really shouldn’t have been so particular in instilling him with all these principles. It got one nowhere these days.

  A knock on the door of his office preceded his partner’s entrance.

  Ten minutes later Brady was staring at Pete moodily as the latter droned on about some case he wanted Brady to accept. Didn’t Pete ever think of anything besides making money?

  “...........the family’s rich. They said you could name any price. It’s important their son Adrian gets off without a ....”

  “Pete, have you ever been in love?” Brady didn’t give a damn about Adrian or his parents right now. Probably the young whippersnapper deserved a jail term more than he deserved his freedom.

  “Wha...?” Pete’s jaw went slack as he realized his friend had heard less than a dozen words of his eulogy.

  “Love, Pete,” Brady repeated impatiently, "Have you ever been in love?”

  Pete frowned, searching the black book of his memory for faces and names. The object in question resembled Webster’s unabridged dictionary more than it did a tiny telephone diary and it took a while.

  “Once,” he said reluctantly, “Only once. It was just before we took the bar exams. I had gone home that vacation and Jenny was visiting relatives in the area.”

  “What did you do?” asked Brady.

  “Do?” For a second Pete thought his friend wanted details of a different kind, “What do you mean, what did I do?”

  “You realized you loved this girl,” said Brady with exaggerated patience, “So what was your battle plan?”

  "Battle plan?” Why was Brady making being in love sound like D-day? “I never had one. I packed my things and ran back to Harvard. I was scared. Of her. Of my emotions. Everything.”

  “That’s it?” said Brady incredulously, "You just upped and ran?”

  But Pete Brown refused to be quizzed further. It wasn’t as if he’d left Jenny pregnant or something. Pushing his chair back he got to his feet and looked Brady in the eye.

  “He who loves and runs away is free to love another day,” he said solemnly before he strode out of the office. Now was obviously not the time to expect Brady to agree to see the Benninghams.

  Brady stared at the file on his desk, a euphoric smile stealing over his face as he saw the words Tanner vs. Benningham switch to Brady versus Katie on the file.

  The next hearing had to be organized immediately. June was only a few weeks away.

  Pete could be one of his attendants.

  “How would you like to go to Catalina for the weekend?” Ben kissed the tip of his wife’s nose.

  “When?”

  “This weekend if you like. The morning sickness has stopped and you mentioned the other day you intended to enjoy every minute before you got too huge to see your toes.”

  “All three of us?” Karen asked.

  “No,” Ben brushed his wife’s lips and then returned to linger a whole minute on their parted curves before he spoke again, “Just you and me, kid.”

  “Well, we could do it this weekend but Mom and Dad are going to Vegas. Next.....”

  “What about Cody’s Miss Katie?” asked Ben. “She might spend the weekend here with him and he’d love that.”

  “He would, if she can do it. I’ll ask her tomorrow.”

  Karen wrapped her arms around her husband’s middle and drew close to him happily planning the weekend ahead.

  Suddenly she stiffened, “I’m not being set up again am I, just so that brother of mine can have Miss Katie here at his mercy?”

  Ben grinned, “Well, he did suggest it. I hemmed and hawed till he offered to pay for three nights on the island.”

  “Ben...” half laughing, half mad Karen looked at him and he dragged her against his length.

  “Awful isn’t it?” he agreed, “I had it all planned but then when Brady mentioned it as well, the opportunity to push a few of his buttons was too good to pass up. I just wanted to see how far he would be willing to go. I’m going to return his money when we get back. No, darling wife, as far as I’m concerned this weekend’s my idea. Just for you and me. Don’t pack too many clothes either.”

  Karen grinned happily.

  Love certainly worked for some people, Kate had to admit. Except for the gentle swell of her stomach and a momentary pang as she had said goodbye to her son, Karen Webb looked like a woman going off on her honeymoon.

  Cody had shown her the house and Kate had shared his dinner of macaroni and cheese and hotdogs. Now he was running around in the backyard hauling a huge red wagon while she sat on the redwood deck watching the orange and violet streaks in the sky change to soft smudges of hazy pink and lavender as the sun went down. Kate loved this time of day, watching the earth change her mantle in readiness for the night.

  The memory of the last time she’d watched a sunset and her companion that day made her heart cramp with pain. The last fortnight had been terrible. She couldn’t tell which of the last two weeks had been worse, the first when she’d spun Brady all those yarns or the second when she hadn’t heard from him at all.

  The doorbell rang and Katie started. Before she could get up, Cody’s head had cocked to one side like a puppy’s.

  “Uncle Brady.” His words were confirmed by the footsteps on the kitchen tile.

  “Hi!”

  Brady probably had his own key. She ought to have known he’d be here. Or was that really why she had broken her rule to work only two weekends in every month? She’d wanted to see him.

  “Hi.” Kate barely had time to get her response in before Cody hurled himself at his uncle like a bullet from a gun.

  As uncle and nephew exchanged greetings Kate tried to gather her scattered senses together. Brady’s demeanor hadn’t hinted one iota of resentment over her tactics. His heartbreaking smile had been as open as ever. Probably he’d accepted the fact she meant what she’d said about marrying for security and lost interest in her. A man like him wouldn’t lack for opportunities to meet a dozen girls a week who’d look into those eyes and forget their given names.

  Kate drew a deep breath as Brady lifted his head and let his eyes look their fill of her, the expression in them informing her he hadn’t forgotten a thing. Fiercely she reminded herself that she was a calm, cool, collected adult, not a popsicle to melt into wet slush every time this man looked at her.

  Brady gave his nephew an extra whirl before setting him down. Katie was glad to see him. He had seen the first flash in her eyes before she’d superimposed restraint. The thought gave a fresh boost to his determination to break down her defenses, make her his.

  "Want to collect rocks, Uncle Brady?” His nephew’s voice seemed to come from a long distance. He liked the yellow thing Katie had on. It made her look like a small fluffy chick. One he’d like to cuddle.

  “Not right now, Cody, maybe tomorrow. I’ll just sit here and watch how you do it.”

  Cody ran back to his wagon and Brady sank down on the top step of
the redwood deck, his head touching distance from her knee.

  “Have you eaten?” Kate asked. Why was he here?

  “Yes. Have you?”

  “Cody and I had macaroni and cheese and hotdogs,” Kate said.

  “Wish I’d been here,” she could tell the regret in his voice was genuine.

  Oh, Brady what am I going to do with you?

  A hand came up, raked her head of curls, and Kate gave in to the desire to babble, “Mrs. Webb’s left Cody’s routine with me. It was nice of her husband to plan this surprise for her. I’m sure Cody’ll be fine.”

  So, go away, Brady. Leave me alone.

  Brady got up and for a moment she thought he must have read her mind but it was only to fetch a can of beer and ask her if she would like a drink. Kate refused and then watched the working of his strong brown throat as he tipped his head back and took a long gulp.

  Strange how the sight of her father reaching for a drink had always reduced her to pulp, while the sight of Brady doing the same thing didn’t upset her at all. But then Brady never had too much, lost control or used alcohol as a crutch.

  Cody, cheeks red with exertion, puffed importantly up the steps.

  “Dad and me are making a rock garden for Mom,” he said for the umpteenth time.

  “I’m sure your Dad’s glad to have a big strong helper like you.” Kate said.

  His, "Yup!” reminded her of the time in the park, the smile she’d shared with Brady. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She had changed so much since then, influenced willy nilly by this man beside her. But no more. Relapses were too risky.

  She kept her eyes fixed on Cody as she asked him if he was ready for a bath.

  While Cody splashed in the tub Kate came up with a plan. There was no way she could sit on that deck all evening with Brady and not lose her head. No, she’d made progress these last two weeks and she wasn’t about to slide back.

  Tucking Cody up in bed, she read him a story, cleaned up the mess he’d made in the bathroom and went into the guest room, Karen Webb had shown her to earlier that evening. Picking up the green backpack she kept her books in, Kate went downstairs.