"I don't doubt it for a minute. I happen to like mowing, and this,” he patted the hood of the monster, “is a honey. She's sweet."
"Sweet.” Kate looked at him dubiously. “You call that sweet."
"Purrs like a kitten."
"Not for me it didn't."
"You didn't stroke her just right."
"Apparently. I consider anything with moving parts to be evil and out to get me. Is this one of those guy things?"
He shrugged. “I could be persuaded to finish the rest of the yard, for a long drink of something cold."
"I have iced tea and cookies on the back porch."
"I'll take the tea now and come back for the cookies when I finish."
The feeling of being safe and secure only solidified as Kate sat on the back porch and watched him guide the mower around and around, moving the swing to mow beneath it, snugging the blade up to the grape trellises. The scent of freshly mowed grass clung to her nostrils, triggering nostalgia so strong it almost swamped her. Newly mowed grass, iced tea and a cool breeze that set the hammock chair to swaying. She closed her eyes for one of the few peaceful, happy moments she'd known since she moved back to Winsom. And Cass was responsible for it. She was grateful.
Resolutely, she refused to think about all the local tongues wagging about Cass mowing her lawn. There would be interested speculation discussed over the zucchini at the produce aisle in the market and beside the pumps at the gas station. To say nothing about what would be passed down the pews in church on Sunday. Kate decided she could live with it. Let them talk.
He turned the hose on the mower to clean it when he'd finished, and drove the monster back into the garage before coming to the porch.
Babe rushed to meet him, prancing a welcome and wriggling so hard he almost toppled over. Cass bent to scratch the dog behind the ears and then to rub his tummy. Within minutes, Babe fell asleep at Cass's feet.
"I'll take the tea and cookies now,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. She could faintly smell him, feel the heat steaming off him. Man. All man. Sweat mingling with soap, shampoo and a certain earthy pungency. It bothered her slightly that she was getting so used to him. She felt familiar even with his scent.
He sat down at the table and looked out over the lawn and around at the porch. “This is very nice."
"I've always liked it,” she answered. “It's home."
The ceiling fan created a gentle breeze among the flowers. She'd brought out a number of orchids, some of which hung from the rafters while others stood on pedestal tables, even one in an old pie press. About half of them bloomed in riotous colors. She'd always thought of the others as waiting patiently for their day of glory.
"Got a nibble on the Ford. Can I bring the guy around to look at it one of these days?"
"Sure. Anytime you want."
"Fellow collects antique cars. Has a huge garage at the back of his lot where he keeps them stored. You ought to see them. They're polished until they almost hurt your eyes to look. He always runs a half dozen of them in the Memorial Day Parade. One of these years you'll be standing at the curb and see your dad's old Ford glide by."
"I'd like that. Dad would like that. Whatever he's offering, consider it done."
"It will also eliminate the possibility of any more horns going off where there is no way a horn could go off.” He narrowed his eyes. “That appeals to me a great deal."
He drained half the glass of tea and lowered his gaze on hers. “Any more visits from our friend?"
"Leah? Not in the last couple of nights. Maybe she's given up."
"Do you believe that?"
"No."
"Well then. What are we going to do about it?"
She shook her head. “There's a new wrinkle. I think she's calling me on the phone."
His eyebrows went up. “The telephone?"
"Yes. It rings several times a day and there's no one there. Or at least they don't answer. I have a feeling someone is on the other end, though. Listening. It has to be her. Have you ever heard of ghosts dialing a telephone?"
"Why does it have to be her?"
She made a bewildered gesture with one hand. “Who else would it be?"
"I don't know. Some teenagers having fun. An adult up to a bit of meanness."
She considered the idea. “I hadn't thought of that. At least that's normal. Not some unbelievable scenario involving ghosts! I'd rather go with your idea."
"Just an alternative. I could be all wrong."
"I'll assume you're right until proven wrong."
"Where's Max?"
"He's at Lionel's house. Staying overnight for the first time. Babe and I are holding down the fort."
He shifted positions and leaned back. “Tell you what. I'm going home to take a shower. Unless you have other plans, I'll stop at the Toot ‘n Tell ‘Em and bring back a pizza and we can eat here. Does that appeal to you?"
She looked up to find his eyes on hers, and although the width of the table separated them, it was as if an elastic band stretched tight from him to her.
Kate tried twice before she found her voice. “Sure. That sounds great."
He stood. “Be back in a flash. Pizza, you and me. Just us three.” He waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive wriggle. “The imagination boggles with possibilities."
And before she could close her mouth, he was gone.
Eight
Lavender Star ‘Ruffled Kiss'
Lush, ruffled, deep ruby petal with a radiant lavender blush and creamy center. Brassolaeliocattleya.
"At first, it was okay after we were married. Huey went to work in Jackson and we came home here at least once a month for Sunday dinner.” She lifted a shoulder. “Things weren't great, but they were okay."
They sat on the porch with the remains of a pizza in its box between them on the table, and tall glasses of soft drinks sweating in their hands. She couldn't remember why they'd begun talking about Huey. She'd never talked to anyone except Bree about the disastrous marriage, but didn't stop to let herself analyze why it felt right to talk to Cass about it now. It was enough that she was relaxed for the first time in months, years even, and could share herself with a man. She'd known Cass almost all her life. He was safe.
Well, safe in a way. He sprawled in his chair completely and totally male—muscles and calluses showing the results of hard, honest work, and eyes that revealed a sensitivity she'd not seen in many men. Just his very presence seemed to generate a sense of completeness in her life. In that sense, he might not be safe at all. And, of course, the candles lighting the porch, flickering in their tiny pots, created a kind of intimacy that ought to make her take to her heels and run. Yet, somehow, she couldn't feel that Cass was a threat. She could tell him anything. And maybe it was time she told someone other than Bree.
"Four months to the day that he began work, he was fired. Came home and said he'd gotten tired of the guff a couple of the men were slinging at him, and he'd thrown a handful of receipts at a customer who then took a swing at Huey. Huey, being Huey, swung back, and broke the guy's nose. Of course, the manager fired him. He sat out his unemployment, not doing anything much except growling because I was pregnant already. He didn't even begin to hunt for a job until the unemployment checks ran out."
"And what were you doing while he sat on his butt?"
"Throwing up around the clock and trying to hang on to my job.” She paused. “We had a lot of fun in college, me too—Huey in a good mood was a great date—but after graduation and then marriage, he expected the frat parties to go on as usual. He couldn't cope with a job and responsibility.
"And I was sick with the kind of morning sickness that goes on day and night for nine months, and I guess I didn't do a lot to stroke his ego. In all fairness, I was so caught up in constant nausea and the need to function at work, worrying about paying the rent and having enough to eat, that I probably made things worse with my nagging. I wasn't little Miss Merry Sunshine during those months. I'm fairly sure he
came close to hating me by the time Max was born. Probably with good reason."
"He broke a guy's nose for hassling him? A customer?” Cass's eyes narrowed. “Did he ever get rough with you?"
"Oh ... Pushing and shoving. He drew back his fist once, shortly after Max was born, but never threw the punch. Caught himself in time.” Her chest tightened with the memory. She had been scared. “I would have been out of there, if he had. Afterward, when I had time to think about it, I promised myself that."
She'd also made a promise of another kind to Huey, but Cass didn't need to know about that. The man had gone pale at the mention of the knife drawer in the kitchen, and a hand had drifted below his belt. She hadn't actually used the word “bobbitized,” but it was implied strongly enough that he'd gotten the message. Her voice had been so cold with fury, it hadn't even sounded like her voice, when she said, “You have to sleep sometime.” He'd never shown her a fist again.
"And things didn't get better?"
"For a few weeks, after Max came. He was thrilled that the baby was a boy and loved to boast to everyone about his son. But when the novelty wore off, he cooled down fast. He didn't ‘do’ diapers and middle-of-the-night feedings. Fatherhood had no place in his master plan."
"You weren't working.” It wasn't a question.
"After three weeks. The water had been turned off."
Cass's face settled into grim, hard lines. “He was a real SOB."
"I kept thinking he'd rise to the responsibility. He never did."
"At least he didn't want custody when you divorced."
When she didn't answer right away, he leaned forward. “He didn't, did he?"
"No,” she said. “But he's threatened since to take him. I know, my lawyer says that's a standard threat and the man almost never follows through, but the possibility is scary."
"Unless he's cleaned up his life considerably in the interval, you have nothing to worry about, surely."
"Probably not, but still..."
"Child support?"
She shook her head.
"And you didn't take him to court?"
"I managed. In all honesty, I didn't want him in our lives in any way. The further away he stayed, the better. And I had Max, and my self-respect."
"Yeah, but how in the world did you manage? It sounds pretty grim, even before he left."
"I hit an all time low when Huey didn't show up at the hospital to bring Max and me home, and I had to call Bree who, thank God, was in Chicago at a seminar."
His eyes flattened in anger. “Where were your folks in all this? They didn't help?"
"They would have, if they'd known. But they had been opposed to the marriage from the beginning. They'd tried their hardest to talk me out of marrying him. I guess it's an old story. They saw character traits in him that I was blind to, and afterward I was too proud to let them know I'd made a mistake and covered everything as best I could. I don't think they ever knew just how bad it was."
She unclasped her hands and let out her breath, “I don't usually talk this much. I don't know why I told you all that."
"Because I wanted to know."
"I survived and that's the point.” That was enough. She didn't need to whine on his shoulder about her life with Huey. She tucked one foot beneath her and changed the subject. “How about you? Textbook college, degree, and marriage?"
Cass leaned forward to scratch Babe. The dog rolled to his back, all four feet up in the air and a foolish grin on his doggy face. He answered, “Right. At least up to the marriage part. That was sour almost from the beginning. Like you, a big mistake. Of course, I got Stacey out of it."
"You met in college?"
"Yeah. Jessica was the valedictorian type. All intensity and brains, energy and excitement. Except for her tunnel vision about long range goals and where she wanted to be in ten years, she and Huey might have gotten along. She was a great date, too. What happened after the wedding was less than great."
"You must have loved her."
"I guess. I thought I did. Actually, I've thought about it a lot, and you know, I think the time came when I simply needed someone to take care of. I needed to be needed. Responsible for someone else. I think maybe a lot of men feel like that."
"I know one who didn't."
He nodded. “I said ‘most’ men. Call it whatever you want, but no one has a problem with saying women have a nesting instinct. I think men have it too. After college—somehow it was just time to get married and begin a family. The right time for that to happen. For me, anyway.” He stopped talking and swirled the ice cubes in his glass.
Then, “Jessica didn't take much to running a home. She wanted to be a career woman and refused to be ‘harnessed,’ I believe was her word, into a lifestyle she didn't want."
"How long did the marriage last?"
His chin rested on his chest. He was uncomfortable with talking about the breakup of his marriage, Kate could see that, but he persisted. “We struggled along until two years ago. I decided it was harder on Stace with us being together than it would be if we parted, so I gave in. We've been friendlier since the divorce than we were while we were married. And so far, at least, Stace is doing okay. Jessica is generous with her. I get to see her almost whenever I want."
"Is Jessica remarried?"
"No. She's clawing her way up the corporate ladder. Logging billable hours by the zillion. If you ever need a lawyer, she's a damned good one."
"I'm surprised you don't have custody."
"Jess wasn't ready for that. Said a little girl needed her mother, and I was tired of fighting. But since I'd rather have Stace, myself, than send her to a sitter, I have her more than Jess does, anyway. I've been thinking about reopening the residence part of custody. Jess might be more receptive now."
Bugs thumped against the screen. The sound of frogs croaking drifted from the lake. Candles guttered low in the breeze and above it all wind rustled through the maples. An August moon rode high in the sky.
So many kids from split families. So much pain. And an ever growing need for lawyers. Kate wished for the millionth time that life could be different. Simpler. Safer for kids.
It would be nice if Leah was a problem that could be solved by lawyers. She wondered where she was now. What she was doing at this very minute. Waiting to pounce once more, likely. There was no doubt about it, she wouldn't like Kate getting too friendly with Cass. Leah had always more than liked him when they were young, but Cass had never made a move toward her. He was one of the few boys she couldn't just reel in with a little subtle flirting. No, Leah had proven dramatically that she didn't want Cass kissing Kate any more today than she had ten years ago.
Kate studied the lines of his face. He wasn't classically handsome, but there was a sort of rugged integrity about him that fascinated her. His face was almost chiseled, with hard and clean lines, but when he smiled, as he did now, the lines were softened. He looked exactly like what he was. A nice, hardworking, decent man. Responsible. Secure. And he hadn't backed out the door after Leah's rather obvious statement with the car horn. More points on his behalf.
For all of one minute she was disgusted with herself. Why was it that a woman always felt more secure with a man around? Granted he was bigger and stronger, and knew things like how to start a balky lawn mower. But it was more than that. It had to do with a sense of being complete. Like finishing a circle or mixing paints until you got exactly the right color. Sharing yourself and your life with someone else seemed to carry a happy, contented feeling along with it. In her case, that someone else apparently meant a man. And that confused her. She wasn't in the market for a man. Maybe some day, but not now. She was doing all right on her own.
A man meant giving up power. Abdicating the right to decision making. Friendship was safer. She could go with that. Even a very good, close friendship. And she considered Cass a very good friend indeed. But, conversely, she had to admit Cass wasn't pushy. He didn't pressure her to do what he considered best or infri
nge on her space. He was just there if she needed him.
Sure, he had strong political views; she wouldn't respect him nearly as much if he didn't. But they had discussed, calmly, her differing views. They both loved old movies, the Beatles, kids and dogs. They enjoyed doing many of the same things. Kate frowned. She'd never felt, not once, as if she was being asked to give up rights or power or herself with Cass. Maybe as her dad had said, all men weren't like Huey Foster. She'd never given the thought serious consideration. Could be it was time to do so.
"Any more anonymous phone calls?” he asked abruptly.
"One while you were gone,” she admitted. “I'm almost getting used to them."
"I don't want you getting used to them. You can have your number changed and unlisted."
"I could,” she agreed, “but that would be a problem with all Max's ball games and my business contacts. And anyway, if it's Leah, what good would that do? She doesn't need the phone book to call me."
He tilted his head in acknowledgment. “There is that, isn't there? Have you thought about the fact, though, that it might be someone else?"
"Like who? You mentioned kids making mischief. Wouldn't they get tired eventually? An adult bent on annoying me? I don't have any enemies. I haven't been back long enough."
"I had in mind someone else. Like maybe Huey."
Huey! She had thought of Huey and decided against it. But maybe—It could be him. She'd been so sure it was Leah that she hadn't really considered anyone else. “I guess it's possible,” she said, “but I don't understand what he'd have to gain by frightening me."
"Just a thought,” he said. “Covering all the bases. I'd like you to think about changing your number, anyway. And get caller ID. Just to make it more difficult."
"I'll think about it,” she agreed.
He was quiet, half-smiling, watching her for so long she was, all of a sudden, uncomfortable.
"What?” She picked up a napkin. “Am I wearing my pizza?
"You're just good to look at. I like sitting across the table from you and having a meal."
Dancing Ladies Page 14
