by Cathie Linz
“What’s the big deal?” Curt demanded of his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Just pick up the phone and call her. What?” he mocked himself. “You can handle grenade launchers and you’re afraid of a cute preschool teacher?”
Marching into the bedroom, he grabbed for the portable phone. She answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“Are you okay?” he demanded. “You sound kind of breathless.”
“I just got out of the shower.”
Weak at the knees, he sank onto his bed and closed his eyes, imagining her standing on the other end of the line holding the phone in one hand and a towel in the other. She wasn’t the type to go traipsing around the house in the nude. No, she’d have grabbed a towel. But she might not have had time to wrap it around herself very well and it might not cover very much. It certainly wouldn’t cover all of her long legs. Or the gentle curve of her breasts.
An image flashed into his mind of a younger Jessie, her long honey-blond hair cascading around her bare shoulders as she hovered above him in the semidarkness. Her shy smile as she ran her hands over his chest, the rosy tip of her nipples exposed to his view between the silken strands of her hair as she moved…
He groaned. It seemed so real, as if it were a real memory of a time gone by.
“Is something wrong?” she asked him. “Is it Blue? Is something wrong with Blue?”
“No.” He was the one who was in danger of cardiac arrest. The thought of her in nothing but water droplets and a towel was enough to make his heart stop, not to mention that disturbingly erotic flashback. He tried to swallow. “No, Blue is fine. She’s dancing.”
“You called me to tell me that Blue’s dancing?”
Hearing the amusement in Jessie’s voice, he marshaled his thoughts in order. “In a program. They’ve got this ballet thing going in conjunction with the kinder-gym operation. She’ll be on stage this Sunday afternoon, providing I can get her in the stupid outfit. Do you have any idea how hard it is to put tights on kids?”
“Yes, actually I do,” she wryly assured him.
“Well, I had no idea. I know advanced weapon systems that require less maneuvering. And can deploy much faster, too.”
“So you want me there to help you get Blue dressed?”
“Negative. I can get her dressed.” Or die trying. “She and I would both like you in the audience to watch her perform. Well, actually she’s not doing much more than standing on tiptoe, putting her hands over her head and moving across the stage. But hey, Julia Roberts probably started her stage career that way, too.”
“I can tell that once again you’ve got big plans for Blue,” she mocked him.
“Are you going to lecture me again?” he demanded.
“Are you going to listen this time?” she replied.
“I always listen, Jessie.” His voice turned warm and husky. “But I pay attention to your actions even more. Like when you kissed me.”
He heard her startled gasp.
Then she firmly said, “I think we should forget that kiss.”
“I’m going to have to decline that request.”
“It wasn’t a request,” she shot back, “it was an order.”
“We’re no longer in Daddy Boot Camp. So you’re no longer in a position to be giving me orders.” He came up with a few other positions he’d sure like her to be in, on this bed with him, her bare body beneath his…
His hot fantasy was interrupted by the sound of her blowing a raspberry at him over the phone line.
“I’ll come watch Blue dance,” she told him. “But don’t go getting any other ideas, Mr. Macho Marine.”
Not get ideas? About her? Impossible! She might as well tell him to take up flower arranging.
He would have told her so, but the dial tone informed him that she’d already hung up.
The community center auditorium was crowded by the time Jessica arrived. She ran into a few parents of children who’d been in her classes in the past and paused to exchange a few words with them. Curt had told her to save him a seat, so when she found two aisle seats about halfway to the stage, she snagged them. He joined her just as the lights went down and the slightly crooked stage curtain parted.
“Sorry to be late.” He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “There was a problem with Blue’s tights. She peeled them off twice, so she and I had a little talk. I think everything is under control now.”
Her pulse certainly wasn’t under control, not with his warm breath brushing against her skin. There was an unexpected intimacy in sitting so close to him in the darkness. He was wearing his dress blues uniform, and even though it was only the third time she’d ever seen him in it, she still got a little weak at the knees. Okay, more than a little, she corrected herself as a ripple of sensual excitement slid up her spine.
“Look, there she is!” Curt’s voice was excited, but it was caused by his daughter’s dancing debut, not by his closeness to Jessica.
Looking up at the stage, she saw that Blue had indeed made her appearance near the end of a line of half a dozen preschoolers, all decked out as little ballerinas—complete with pink leotards, white tutus and little flower headbands in their hair. They slowly made their way from one end of the stage to the other accompanied by the sound of Tchaikovsky’s “The Waltz of the Flowers.”
The scene was so perfect.
Then disaster struck as Blue kicked her leg like a Radio City Hall Rockette, her ballet-shoe clad foot smacking into the behind of the little girl in front of her…who fell into the girl in front of her.
One by one, like a row of rapidly tumbling dominoes, the baby ballerinas all went sprawling across the stage.
Bedlam broke out as startled little girls started wailing and concerned parents started shouting. The only one left standing on stage was Blue, who proudly smiled and waved at Curt.
As the houselights quickly came on, and a voice over the loudspeaker assured the audience that no one was hurt, Jessica turned to Curt in confusion. “Why would Blue do something like that?”
The guilty look on his face told her that he knew the reason.
“What did you do this time?” she demanded.
“I should go see if Blue is okay,” he said, propping his hand on the back of his seat to propel himself upward without putting too much weight on his injured leg.
“Wait a minute.”
For a man with a limp, he was suddenly moving very quickly. As if he had something or someone he was trying to escape. “Not so fast,” she said, hurrying after him to keep up. She reached him in the small outer lobby. “What did you do? I saw the look on your face. I know that you did or said something that precipitated her actions.”
“Okay, I may have said something about going out there and kicking some butts, but I didn’t mean for her to take that literally.”
“She’s three, Curt. She takes everything literally.”
“I know that,” he said defensively.
“If you know that then why did you say what you did? You did it because it’s always about coming out on top with you, isn’t it. Always about winning.” Her voice rose angrily.
Noticing the attention they were getting, Curt tugged her into the tiny coatroom for a moment and closed the door. “Would you just calm down a minute….”
“No, I won’t calm down,” she replied, yanking her arm away from his clasp. “I don’t even know why I bother talking to you. You don’t pay attention to anything I say!”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s absolutely true,” she said, interrupting him, so furious with him she could hardly see straight. “You ignore me, just the way you ignored me all those years ago when you came back from boot camp after we’d made love. It was always about winning with you, wasn’t it? Even back then.”
Stunned, he stared at her. “We made love?”
Chapter 8
“YES, WE MADE LOVE,” Jessica said, so upset now that she was actually shaking. “Maybe it was just sex for you, but it wa
s my first time—”
“Hold on a minute.” Curt held up his hand, his expression taut. “Let me get this straight. You and I made love? When? Where?”
“In your car the night before you left to join the marines. Obviously it was a memorable and life-altering experience for you,” she noted with mocking bitterness.
“I had too much to drink that night,” he acknowledged. “The next morning my memory was blurry.”
“Oh, spare me the excuses.”
“I’m not making excuses, I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t remember. Not because it wasn’t memorable. I have been getting these mental images, but I thought…well, I never thought they were real.” They seemed too good to be real. Her long honey-colored hair falling over him like a heavenly Victoria’s Secret angel, her body wrapped around his. He’d never dreamed that he’d gone all the way with her, that she’d ever have let him. Well, he’d dreamed, yeah, but he never thought it could ever have happened.
“Oh, it was real all right,” she said. “Real enough that I thought I was pregnant. I even took one of those home pregnancy tests. It came out positive. I was going to tell you that when you came home, but you never even contacted me to let me know you were home. And when I did see you, you ignored me.”
The blood drained from his face. “You were pregnant?”
Her lips trembled and she shook her head. “As it turned out the test results were inaccurate. There was no baby. There never will be a baby. Not for me.” Holding back a sob, she shoved past him.
“Jessie, wait!” He reached for her, but the tortured look in her eyes stopped him.
“I can’t do this,” she said, her voice shaking with emotion.
“Daddy!” Blue wailed from farther down the hallway. “Daddy!”
“Go see to your daughter and leave me alone!” Backing away from him, Jessica turned and fled.
Laundry. Jessica was going to do the laundry and not think about how she’d made a fool of herself in front of Curt.
An hour after the disastrous event, the tears had stopped and the regret had set in.
What had she been thinking? Why did she have to go and bring up the past? Had she honestly thought that he’d say something to make her feel better?
He hadn’t. Telling her he couldn’t remember that night at all…well, that just seemed to sum it all up. She was completely forgettable.
Just as she was forgettable by her own father, who never seemed to see her. No matter how much she tried to please him, he never noticed. Which was why Curt’s behavior had hurt all the more.
When would she learn? Was she doomed to love men who couldn’t love her in return? Was she so unlovable?
Biting her bottom lip, she decided she’d had enough of this gloomy soul-searching. No more. Narrowing her eyes and willing the tears away, she instead focused her attention on the pile of dirty clothes before her. No more thinking about the past and about Curt.
She was hereby declaring this to be a Curt-free zone. No thoughts of Curt were allowed in her tiny laundry room. In fact, she’d declare her entire condo to be a Curt-free zone.
Yes, she liked that idea.
Instead she’d think about sorting whites from colors. She’d remember that her rayon pants needed to be line-dried and not tossed in the dryer. This was something she could do. Get something accomplished. Wash laundry, toss in dryer, remove and fold. Repeat with the next load.
Two hours later there was nothing left to wash. She’d even laundered two tablecloths that hadn’t needed it. Which left her with…the closet. She’d been meaning to clean out her bedroom closet. After pausing long enough to order a pizza to be delivered—all that washing had made her hungry and it was almost dinnertime—she undertook the project with the determination of a marine.
No, not a marine. Marines were a pain in the behind.
As if on cue, the phone rang.
It was him. She just knew it. Jessica eyed the white cordless telephone on her bedside table with narrowed eyes. Amy had gone camping in Wisconsin for the weekend, so it wasn’t her calling. No, it was definitely Curt. She could tell just by the way the phone was ringing, even the sound seemed to reflect his own impatient dominance.
Sure enough, his voice came over her answering machine once it picked up.
“Jessie, if you’re there pick up.” He was using his drill sergeant voice again. “We need to talk. Pick up.”
She drowned him out by turning the Genesis song playing on her compact alarm clock/radio up full blast. The music filled her bedroom as she returned to her walk-in closet and tossed an unwanted pair of aqua sweatpants over her shoulder. What had she been thinking when she bought them? She never wore aqua. Out. They were going out. And so were her worries about Curt.
He had no power here. She was in her own domain. Mistress of all she surveyed. Sitting on the carpeted floor, with a pile of clothes beside her, she paused to view the rest of the room.
Her bedroom, and indeed the entire condo, was done in a relaxed cottage style. The white four-poster bed was covered with a pastel duvet cover in shades of rose and cream. The mellow pine dresser had been a find at the Kane County Flea Market, as was the chair beside it on which she’d painted a whimsical cherub motif. In the far corner was her favorite curl-up-and-read chair, casually slipcovered in pink-and-cream ticking material. The walls were painted a soft sage-green the exact color of the ceramic bowl on top of the dresser. She could still remember the day her mom had bought it for her from an artisan at Chicago’s Gold Coast Art Show as a college graduation present.
She’d never told her mom about Curt, about her feelings for him back in high school or that night. Her mom had been busy trying to keep the bill collectors at bay. She didn’t need any more problems. After many years of working full-time, her mom had recently retired and was now fulfilling a lifelong dream of taking a month-long cruise in the South Pacific with a good friend of hers.
Jessica couldn’t imagine being away from her home for a month. This was her center, her base, surrounded by the things she loved.
But not by the man you loved.
When Jessica was eighteen, this wasn’t the way she’d pictured her life. She’d thought she’d have a family of her own by now. A boy and a girl. Maybe even two boys and two girls. She’d be a stay-at-home mom until the youngest one was in first grade. And on their birthday she’d make them a cake from scratch and throw them the best party a child ever had.
Not like her own childhood birthdays, which always seemed to fall shortly after a new move. As the brand-new kid on the block, there were no friends to invite to her party. So no one had come, including her own father. Her mother tried to make up for it, however, there was only so much one woman could do.
No, that big family Jessica had envisioned had not come to pass. She had no children of her own. No family of her own. Here she was, almost thirty and still alone.
You have options, she reminded herself. There are plenty of kids waiting to be adopted. It’s time you stopped waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen and did something to help someone else.
Somewhere there was a child that needed her, a child waiting for her love.
This wasn’t a new idea. It had been percolating in the back of her mind for a year or more. She’d even gone so far as getting the phone number of various state and private adoption agencies. But she hadn’t made any calls. Until today.
Perched on the edge of her bed, her feet curled beneath her, she called the two largest agencies and asked them to send her information about single-parent adoptions.
Hanging up the phone, she felt better. Felt more in charge of her own destiny. Now she just wished that she’d kept her mouth shut and not let her anger get the best of her with Curt.
She hated that she’d let him know that she couldn’t have children. She didn’t want his pity, didn’t want anything from him.
Which got her to thinking, how well did she really know Curt? Even back then, when they’d been teenage
rs, how well had she really known him?
Yes, they’d gotten as physically intimate as two people could be. Sure she’d shared one life-altering evening in the back seat of his Mustang, giving him her virginity. Not that it had been much of a gift. Bad boys like Curt hadn’t been in the market for nerdy inexperienced girls like her. They’d wanted popular cheerleaders with big busts and long legs.
But she’d loved him from afar for so long—from her freshman year on. Tutoring him their senior year had provided the proximity for that crush to grow into monumental proportions. And when she’d run into him behind the library the night of their senior prom, she’d thought it was fate. While the girls in her class had been decked out in expensive trendy gowns with floral corsages, dancing the night away, she’d spent that time with Curt.
He was right about one thing. He had had too much to drink that night. That’s why she’d offered to drive him home. He’d told her he didn’t have a home, and told her to drive out to one of the forest preserves that ringed the city.
She’d known what she was doing even if he hadn’t. Not that she’d thought things through, like birth control. If she’d planned that far ahead, it was to assume he’d have something with him. He hadn’t. She hadn’t cared.
They’d both been foolish. Scratch that, they’d both been downright stupid. Dangerously so. It wasn’t as if she believed that rumor that you couldn’t get pregnant your first time. She hadn’t cared. She’d been that blind.
As for Curt, well, he hadn’t seemed to be able to get enough of her. Kissing her with thrusts of his tongue that had at first scared her a bit and then tempted her to give him more. And she had. Gladly. Willingly. Passionately.
But how well did she really know him? Even now?
She knew he joined the marines. She knew he had a daughter, but she didn’t know the circumstances that had led to her birth. She knew he was a man who valued honor, but she didn’t know if he honored her.
