Jay had sent over some roses this morning with a sweet note: I’m sorry. That was the most unromantic proposal in history. I take it back. I can do better. I felt you slipping away and I panicked. I love you. Was that really a retraction? Was he having second thoughts? Even though she didn’t feel what she knew she ought for him right now, he was very sweet. It’s only that he’d moved too fast. Maybe in time, love would grow.
On the other hand, part of her wondered if her extreme reaction to Simon wasn’t just her head telling her she needed to take a break from Jay.
She wouldn’t let this episode with Simon get to her. His appearance had triggered something in her, some echo of the trouble she’d once suffered, and her old anxieties and obsessions had raised their ugly little heads. She was hyper-sensitive, where Simon was concerned. She just had to sort out her feelings and everything would be back to normal. What she’d perceived as flattery and flirtation were just his natural charm, and likely he meant nothing by it.
Just as well, given their professional relationship and Sharon’s unwelcome scrutiny. It was a relief to know that there were no further barriers to a successful resolution to the case. It was too important to her to mess it up with second-guessing and neurotic romantic fantasies.
She drew in a deep lungful of clean, cool, moist air and, face tilted to the sun, continued on her way past the nearly empty playground. She might have walked right by but for the delighted squeal of a tiny girl on the monkey bars piercing the tranquil atmosphere.
“Daddy! Look at me, Daddy!”
Kate looked just in time to see Simon smile and wave at the child and reply, “I’m watching, honey. I see you.”
Oh God! She halted in her tracks, frozen to the spot, her stomach dropping like a stone. How could this keep happening? She hadn’t seen him in fifteen years and suddenly she was tripping over him everywhere she went. Had he been there all along, on the fringes of her world, and she’d never noticed? Was it one of those three-degrees-of-separation kind of things?
Kate looked left and right, swallowing the wedge of dread that thrust its way into her throat. She was in plain sight of them if he should turn around, no place to hide in the open field. Uncertain what to do, she stood at the edge of the playground gawking at them for a few moments. If she carried on her route, he was sure to see her. But she could hardly snub him, despite his rudeness the night before. Yet, she found herself unable to step forward and call out a greeting.
Rooted there, unseen, on the periphery of his life, an unwelcome spectator, she felt a wave of nausea overtake her. She was sweating, trembling, and felt strangely faint. Images of achingly similar incidents in long ago times and different places flashed in her mind, and she felt a powerful urge to run despite the consequences.
The little girl stopped, perched atop the structure, and stared at her.
“Hi,” she called out, waving. Kate was trapped, holding her breath. Simon slowly turned toward her, curious, unsuspecting.
She looked at him, answering his daughter and greeting him in one self-conscious gesture; flicking a hand, she croaked, “Hi.” His face was a cinematic parade of emotions projected plainly one after the other — shock, pleasure, embarrassment, chagrin, and confusion.
“Kate?” His voice was surprised though subdued. She approached tentatively. “I won’t bite, you know,” he said, one corner of his mouth quirking upward.
“Really,” she deadpanned, suppressing a smile; his discomfiture was so obvious and good-humored. Or was it? She pumped her fists uncertainly. Why am I so incapable of objectivity around him? She stopped beside him, her hands thrust into her pockets, and gazed at the girl who was struggling to get down the ladder, curious about the stranger who had intruded. She had a tousled mop of light cocoa curls, and was wearing little green quilted coat.
“Daddy, help me down,” she called out. Simon strode over and lifted her down as though weightless, carrying her back to where Kate stood.
“Madison, this is Kate. Kate, meet my daughter Maddie.” He beamed at Madison with pride and affection.
“It’s nice to meet you, Madison,” said Kate, her heart squeezing at he sight of the beautiful little girl.
“Hi.” Madison said, studying Kate intently, her light green eyes framed by long brown lashes and her round little cheeks apple red. She frowned. “Are you Daddy’s girlfriend?”
Kate’s mouth fell open. “Uh. No, honey. We… we work together.”
“Oh.” Maddie squirmed and kicked until Simon set her down again, clearly uninterested in work colleagues, and ran off. “Watch me climb,” she demanded.
Simon stood shoulder to shoulder with Kate watching Madison struggle up the rope ladder. “I owe you an apology.”
No, don’t say that! I just got you figured out. “Not me,” she said, trying to keep her cool.
His soft laugh held a cynical note. “Perhaps I do owe all professional women an apology. But it’s you I offended last night, so I’m apologizing to you. I tend to generalize when I’m upset.”
“Yes, rather.” Kate shuffled her boots over the damp bark mulch, releasing its musty cedar scent.
He was silent a moment, then he turned toward her. “I feel rotten about spoiling the evening like that. We were having a nice time. I really would like to explain, if you’ll let me.”
She could not avoid turning toward him and meeting his eyes, though with trepidation. They were translucent and sincere, and her heart melted with her resolve. “I can hardly deny you that.” Her eyes slid away, afraid of the persistent tug of attraction that snaked through her.
“Where are you headed? Can you come have a cup of tea with us? We stopped here on our way home, and we’ve been here a while; Maddie needs to eat.”
“Um. Okay.” She smiled and shook her head, torn. Oh, crap. She fingered her pendant nervously. Is this a test?
“C’mon, Maddie. Let’s go get a snack,” he called out, and Maddie came running immediately, a fact that Kate noted with some amazement. Weren’t preschoolers supposed to be whiny and defiant?
They walked back the way she had come, over to a strip of cafes and shops on Cornwall Street. On the way, he explained that he’d just picked up Madison from her mother’s in Richmond where she’d been all weekend and that his house was not far away. Close enough to Alexa’s apartment that Kate wondered they hadn’t run into each other before today. He led them to a small coffee shop on the corner with a banged up bright orange door and a hand-painted wooden sign that announced they’d arrived at Aster’s Cafe. “It’s kind of an old hippy hangout, but they make great home-made muffins, and they have toys,” he said, lifting his brows significantly. They sat by the window in a wide beam of sunshine that slanted across the mosaic-tiled tabletops, setting shards of red, yellow and cobalt blue ceramic glaze afire. Settling Maddie on a chair, he went up to the counter to order and returned shortly with tea, muffins and a pink plastic cup of milk.
“I want juice,” Maddie pouted.
“I know. But it’s time for milk,” he replied serenely, smiling at Kate. Maddie protested no further, but drank her milk and ate the half muffin Simon distractedly set on a napkin in front of her. She was oblivious to the mustache of milk and crumbs that clung to her sweet cheeks, and her sulking lasted only a couple of minutes. Kate, on the other hand, was mesmerized by Simon in the role of father and could hardly concentrate. Soon, Maddie was twisting around on her chair and watching a large golden retriever tied up on the sidewalk.
“I was more upset than I let on last night for a couple of reasons,” Simon said. Kate looked up, questioning. He continued. “Before I met Sharon, I saw my wife.”
Aha! So that’s who she was. “I noticed you stop to talk with someone,” she offered in a neutral tone, glancing at Maddie and the dog. “Your wife is very beautiful.”
“Hm. Yes, people think so. She’s anorexic. But more to the point, she shouldn’t have been there.” Simon glanced at Maddie. “If you’re finished your milk Maddie you can go
to the play area.” She spun around in her chair and gulped her remaining milk, wiping her face on her sleeve and leaping down in one blurred movement. Simon shook his head.
“She’s very good,” Kate smiled, drinking her hot tea appreciatively, watching Maddie sit down in the play corner and dig with determination into a pile of grubby dolls and cars with missing body parts.
“Yes. She is. Usually.” He added, pursing his lips. “I’m surprised she doesn’t act out more. She has to deal with a lot of disappointment. She’s supposed to spend every second weekend with Rachel, but Rachel quite often cancels for some reason or another. She travels… It’s very frustrating for both of us, as you can imagine. Maddie doesn’t understand.”
“Ah. I see. So this was Rachel’s weekend and—”
“She left her with a sitter —a stranger– after she’d been ill last week. I was furious.” He spoke through clenched teeth, his face darkening with his words, and Kate believed him. Clearly he only wanted what was best for his daughter.
“I can certainly understand why that would ruin your mood,” said Kate with sympathy. She appreciated what he had to contend with. Not only did Maddie rarely see her mother, but poor Simon had no time to himself.
“That’s not all. I’m afraid she made some comment about you, and I was already so riled up, I told her we were old… lovers, just to annoy her.” He winced. “I’m the guilty party.” Kate’s face must have shown her dismay, because Simon nodded and looked down, continuing. “After Sharon’s snide comments, I knew how big a mistake it was. I should have realized she would run straight to Rachel to blab. It was foolish, and I’m truly sorry.” He looked up at her, his eyes pleading. “Afterwards, I was as angry at myself as I was at the two of them.”
She hesitated. It was very difficult not to be swayed. She sighed. “Well. You’re forgiven. I wonder what will come of it.”
Simon admitted he was relieved to have a chance to apologize before their meeting Tuesday.
“I am too,” replied Kate, “I think.” She paused. “I’m having difficulty taking your measure.” He gazed at her, his sandy brows pinched together. The wide swath of sunlight from the window had arced across the table as the afternoon wore on, and now painted a brighter trapezoid of azure like a frame on the cobalt wall behind them. Along the way it highlighted his windswept hair, picking out pale strands among the burnished gold and illuminating the course texture of his sheepskin collar.
“I’m not so mysterious. You know me better than you think.” She glanced nervously at him. “Tell me about you instead. What happened to you after graduation? What made you change fields?”
She toyed with her teacup, twirling it round and round in her fingers. She studied Simon through the curtain of her tangled bangs.
“I guess it was the counseling experience that did it,” she said finally. “First I was on the receiving end, after a bad spell in my… twenties,” she paused, meeting his eyes briefly, “and it was so significant that I later volunteered at Speakeasy; you remember that student peer counseling service the Alma Mater Society ran?”
He nodded.
“After that, I worked for a short while at a rape crisis center.”
His eyebrows went up like flags, but he said nothing.
She hurried on. “Like I said before, I seemed to be good at it. Though I had intended to go back to grad school to study Urban Planning, my heart wasn’t in it. I simply changed my mind.” She shrugged and smiled. “It seems I was meant to help people more directly.”
“So you did go back to school?” he asked.
“Yes and no. I took a few of courses, just to see if I was on the right track, in Ethics and Psychology at UBC. That’s where I first ran into Sharon, actually.” She made a face that pretty much summed up their experience of Sharon. “Then I discovered the Mediation Program at the Justice Institute, and there really weren’t any prerequisites. It was quick. In about two years I was ready to go to work.”
“Well. I think you did the right thing.” He smiled. “I can’t picture you behind a desk at City Hall. I think you’re very effective as a mediator, from what I’ve seen so far. Your genuine empathy shows; it literally glows on your face,” he added, “and I think people sense it, and open up to you.” A hot flush rose to his ear tips, turning them fuschia.
“Yourself included?” she smirked. “Or are you so sincere with everyone you meet?”
“Uh. I don’t know how to answer that, so I won’t even try,” he laughed. He hid his embarrassment by turning to see how Maddie was doing in the play area. She was engrossed in some imaginary game, providing barely audible voice-over for her broken dolls’ unfolding drama. “What about when you’re not mediating. What entertains you?”
She suppressed another knowing smile, and clicked her tongue thoughtfully. “I do yoga, most days,” she said, tilting her head and staring at the ceiling. “And I draw and paint a little.” She gave him a significant look. “But don’t ever ask to see them. And, let’s see…I read a lot. I like to read.”
“What do you like to read?” he wondered, leaning forward on his elbow peering into her eyes.
“Nothing so arcane as yourself. I read novels, biographies. I like people, remember. I’m hooked on dysfunctional relationships. People’s dramas.” She laughed at her self-deprecating humour, and he laughed with her.
“And you like Indian food,” he prompted. She nodded and he asked, “Have you ever been there?”
“No. No.” Shaking her head, she added, “Alexa and I always talk about going, but work keeps us both so busy. She’s an Architect, did you know?”
“No. I didn’t.” He paused thoughtfully, and his lips quirked. “I imagine she does well in that environment.”
“You mean, in a traditionally male profession?” enquired Kate with an arch smile. “Yes. You should see her in a hard hat. She kicks some butt.” That prompted a full grin from him, and Kate found herself mimicking him. She sobered. “She’s also a really talented designer.”
“That is interesting. It always amazes me what people turn out to be good at.” They continued along this vein for some time, talking about various people they knew and their latent talents, laughing. Then, Maddie appeared at his elbow, tugging.
“Daddy. I have to pee,” she offered in a stage whisper that had the other café patrons smiling. He moved to stand up.
“Excuse me. We’ll be just a moment,” he said.
“I’d better push off, anyway,” said Kate. “It’s getting late, and I was planning to shop on my way home.”
“Can we give you a lift?” he offered. “I was hoping to talk about Sharon, maybe figure out some strategy before Tuesday.”
“Oh.” She took a deep breath. “Why don’t we wait and see what she does. I think our best bet might be to be honest but play it down. We don’t want to jeopardize the case. It really was such a long time ago, we might have forgotten altogether, you know.” She blushed, avoiding his gaze. “The details aren’t important to anyone, right?”
“Ri-ight,” he answered skeptically. “Although, there’s no crime in reminiscing a bit,” he added, “or in getting to know each other again, for that matter.”
She forced a smile to cover the thrill and terror his words inspired.
“Daddy!” Madison urged.
“Okay. Well. See you Tuesday, then,” Kate said, and stood up, reaching for her canvas backpack.
Maddie dragged Simon toward the narrow corridor at the back of the café, and he disappeared with an apologetic glance over his shoulder.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kate had just returned from an emergency trip to the corner store for fresh coffee cream when the buzzer rang, sounding not unlike the gears grinding in the transmission of a very large truck and jarring her, as it always did. She plucked at her sweater nervously and went to the phone to answer it.
“Kate. It’s me D'arcy, and Simon’s here, too.”
She glanced around her loft once more to make sure she hadn
’t forgotten to put away any personal stuff. Everything looked tidy, the cool grey light flooding in through industrial sized windows. Okay. I’m ready. “Come on up,” she said and pressed the buttons.
A few minutes later, Kate flung open the door, welcoming them in with a smile, and an invitation to make themselves comfortable, hurrying back to the kitchen in pursuit of a whistling kettle.
Without meaning to, she overheard snippets of their conversation as they removed their coats and looked around her loft.
“Is this her home or her office?” said Simon.
“Hard to tell. It’s pretty slick. Look at the view! You can see Science World though that gap. And the marina.”
She peaked around the doorjamb to see Simon tossing the same sheepskin coat he wore on Sunday over a chair, and lean close, squinting at the art on the long brick wall.
“What’s this?” asked D'arcy. Kate ducked back into the kitchen and checked on her muffins.
“Looks like an old cable spool,” said Simon. Kate missed the mumbled discussion that followed, smiling at their reaction to her coffee table. Alexa hated it, but she’d never regretted saving that old piece of junk, and people always commented.
“I can’t believe this place,” D'arcy gasped. “It ’s really gorgeous.” Kate heard D’arcy’s heels click in her direction. “Kate?” she called.
“In here,” Kate called from the archway, noting Simon wandering around, touching things in a curious manner. A vase here, a book there. She watched him move through a strong beam of sunlight, the air filled with suspended motes of dust, and he seemed like a character in a scene from some old movie. He moved toward the side window, and she turned away.
“Is this your home?” D'arcy asked, leaning in the doorway as Kate arranged mugs and plates on a tray.
“Shh. It is, but I keep my personal stuff tucked out of sight, and my living space kind of neutral. It’s homey but not too… too, you know?”
The buzzer sounded again, and Kate carried the tray of dishes, resting it on the edge of her oak barley twist table, shoving a stack of books aside, and supported it with one hip to grab the phone.
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