Night Moves (60th Anniversary)

by Heather Graham

  And now she was wearing half of the Chinese noodles that had been on the table.

  Bryn picked up her glass of wine and nervously downed three-quarters of it, then tried a polite smile once again. “What are you doing here?” she asked him.

  “I like Chinese food,” he replied with a shrug.

  “No date?” Bryn queried, instantly wishing she hadn’t.

  He chuckled. “Not unless you want to consider Mick and Perry dates. They’re over there.” He waved toward the rear of the room. She had met Mick and Perry earlier in the week. They had both impressed her as being down to earth pleasant men, the opposite of what she had expected. Sandy-haired Perry with his sexy lopsided smile waved to her; Mick, with his sparkling dark eyes, grinned broadly and waved, too.

  Bryn waved back, then found her eyes returning of their own accord to meet Lee Condor’s.

  “Would you…ah…like some cashew chicken? Fried rice, an egg roll, a rib…?”

  “Thank you, no. I’ve eaten, and I’m all done.”

  So am I, Bryn thought, looking down at her plate and knowing she wouldn’t be able to consume another mouthful.

  “I’m…surprised to see you here,” she heard herself say lamely.

  “I’ve had a home in Tahoe for the last ten years,” he explained. “I know all the spots where the food is really good and the service amiable.”

  “Oh,” Bryn murmured. “They do serve delicious food. And they’re very nice. They’re always great with the…children.”

  “She means she’s not embarrassed to bring us here,” Brian volunteered.

  “Brian!”

  “Oh, I don’t think your aunt is embarrassed to bring you places. It’s just that some places are very accustomed to adults, but they don’t understand how to feed children—or deal with them. But you know something, Brian? Most people who care about children tend to be nice people. So knowing that they’re nice to you here makes me like the restaurant even better.”

  “Do you have any children?” Brian asked, wide-eyed.

  Did Bryn imagine it, or did a flicker of the pain that she had sensed pass quickly through his eyes?

  “No, I don’t have any children. But I would like to one day.”

  “A boy?”

  “Sure, but I’d take a daughter, too.”

  “Are you really a red-skinned tom-tom player?”

  “Oh, God!” Bryn breathed, frozen in absolute terror as she waited for an explosion of righteous fury.

  There was no explosion. His eyes returned to hers, heavily laced with humor. “A red-skinned tom-tom player?”

  “Are you?” Brian persisted.

  “Brian!” Bryn snapped. “I swear to God, I’m going to skin you alive….”

  Lee turned his attention back to the boy and repeated the description one more time. “A red-skinned tom-tom player. Hmmm. Yes, well, I guess in a way I am.”

  “You’re Lee Condor, aren’t you?” Keith asked excitedly.

  “Yes.” He glanced at Bryn with amused reproach. “I guess your aunt forgot her manners, but aunts do that sometimes.”

  “Then you really are an Indian?” Brian asked.

  “Real live,” he laughed. “Or at least half.”

  Brian looked confused. “Which half?”

  Bryn wanted to sink under the table and die; Lee laughed again and motioned to the waitress. “I think I’m going to order your aunt another drink, and then I’ll explain.” He glanced at Bryn. “Chablis, isn’t it?”

  She could only nod. She would gladly have downed the entire bottle if they would have brought it.

  Lee ordered another wine for her, glanced at her with an upraised brow and ordered a Scotch for himself.

  The drinks arrived quickly, and he sipped his while replying to Brian. “My dad is a full-blooded Blackfoot. But my mom is German. That makes me half Blackfoot and half German. And all American.”

  “Oh, wow!” Keith approved. “Does your dad live in a teepee? Does he have horses and bows and arrows and all those neat things?”

  “Sorry. My dad lives in an apartment in New York City. He’s a lawyer. They live there because my mom teaches at a music school.”

  “Oh,” Keith said, and his disappointment was evident.

  “But,” Lee continued, “my grandfather lives in a teepee during the summer. And he wears buckskins and hunts deer and lives by all the old ways.”

  “I wish I could meet him!” Keith sighed enviously.

  “Well, he lives in the Dakota Black Hills, and that’s pretty far away. But I have a nice collection of old bows and arrows and Indian art, if your aunt would like to bring you by to see them some time.”

  “Oh, Aunt Bryn, could we?” Brian begged instantly.

  “I…uh…”

  “Oh, I forgot. I have tom-toms, too.”

  By now she was halfway through her second glass of wine, but it hadn’t eased the desire to be swallowed into the floor one bit. She was certain that she was as red as the lobster being served at the next table, and she was completely lost for a reply. But it didn’t matter, not anymore. Because Adam, who had an innate resentment against any man who claimed his aunt’s attention, and who had been ignored throughout the preceding conversation, chose that minute to strike.

  A large spoonful of pork fried rice went flying across the table.

  “Oh, Adam!” Bryn gasped in horror. She didn’t think to reprimand him further; she was too busy staring across the table as Lee picked the pieces of food off himself and wondering if she might still possibly have a job.

  “Lee, I’m sorry. Truly sorry. Really.” She stood up nervously and began to help dust the rice off the sleeve of his navy shirt. It was linen, she thought, feeling ill. Expensive, and hard to clean.

  And then she couldn’t help but remember the last time food had flown across a table; it had been the last straw. This was different, but…

  Tears suddenly stung her eyes. She was inadequate. She couldn’t handle disciplining the boys, and she couldn’t give them all that they needed. She was suddenly on the defensive as she kept dusting his already dusted arm.

  “He’s not a bad child, he really isn’t. He’s just four years old, and he’s lost so much….”

  “Bryn.”

  His voice was quiet and soft, but commanding. His hand, bronze and broad and powerful, enveloped hers, stopping its futile motion. His eyes rose to hers, and she saw a gentle empathy in the soft flicker of gold and deeper brown. “It’s all right. It’s no big thing. Would you please sit back down?”

  She did so, biting her lower lip miserably as she continued to stare at him. He smiled at her, inclining his head slightly as if to tell her to go ahead—but to what she wasn’t sure—and turned his attention to Adam. “Adam, I’m sorry that we weren’t including you in the conversation. That was very rude of us. But throwing your food across the table is a very bad thing to do. Do it again, and your aunt or I will take you outside and give you a good talking to there. Understand?”

  Adam shifted closer to Bryn and pressed as far into the vinyl seat as he could. He didn’t reply, but he didn’t throw anything again, either.

  Bryn wondered briefly if she should have resented Lee taking over the initiative on discipline. But she didn’t feel any resentment; all she felt was a pounding headache coming on.

  “Guys,” she murmured, and her voice held a husky tremor, “please finish your dinners; we have to get home.”

  Get it together, Bryn Keller, she warned herself. It had been nice to see the empathy in Lee Condor’s extraordinary eyes, but she didn’t want empathy to become pity. She could control her situation; only rarely did she fall prey to frustration.

  “Want some coffee?” Lee asked her after Brian and Keith had looked from her to Lee to her again, then begun busily eating. Adam didn’t budge, but his plate was almost empty anyway. She decided to let it go.

  Bryn lowered her lashes suddenly. Lee even seemed to know that gulping two glasses of wine was too much for her. Ye
s, she did want coffee. There was Chinese tea on the table, but it wouldn’t perk her up enough to drive.

  “Yes, I would,” she murmured.

  Lee signaled to the waitress, and she wondered for a moment if the American Indian and the Chinese shared a special sign language, because two cups of coffee were instantly brought.

  “How did you do that?” Bryn inquired curiously.

  He laughed. “No great talent. I mouthed the word ‘coffee.’”

  “Oh.” She flushed uneasily, lowering her lashes once again, and scalded her lip on the hot coffee.

  “Hi, Bryn.”

  She glanced up to see that Perry and Mick had wandered over to their booth.

  “Hi,” she returned, wishing her voice didn’t sound so shy. She was accustomed to being assured; why did she worry about what these particular men thought of her?

  Because they’re Lee’s co-workers, an inner voice that she didn’t want to hear told her. And, more important, they’re his friends.

  “Nice looking family,” Mick said with a grin that proved he meant it.

  “Thanks,” she replied, then added swiftly, “Guys, meet Mr. Skyhawk and Mr. Litton. They work with Mr. Condor.”

  Perry chuckled. “You make us sound like the Mafia, Bryn. Guys, I’m Perry, and this is Mick. And who are you?”

  “That’s Brian, and that’s Keith, and this is— Oh!” She glanced down at Adam to see that he had fallen asleep against her side. His left thumb was securely in his mouth—he had broken the habit during the day, but not at night—and he had bunched a fistful of her skirt into his hand like a security blanket. Bryn glanced back up at Mick and Perry and shrugged. “Rip Van Winkle here is Adam.”

  “Hi, Brian, hi, Keith,” Mick said.

  Bryn knew before they opened their mouths that she was in trouble again, but there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to prevent it, short of grabbing the tablecloth and throwing it over both their heads.

  “You’re an Indian, too!” they exclaimed in unison.

  Lee laughed along with Perry and Mick, and Perry purposely egged the boys on. “Me? An Indian? No, I’m not. I’m a perfect American Heinz 57! A little Scotch, a little Irish. Some English, some French. Oh! I forgot about the Lithuanian!”

  “Not you!” Mick exclaimed in mock horror. “They mean me. Hey, you can’t fool kids these days. They know a real Indian when they see one.”

  Brian and Keith stared at each other in confusion, then broke up giggling. Bryn wasn’t sure whether she wanted to kiss the lot of them, or still crawl beneath the table.

  “Indians are fun!” Keith told Brian gravely.

  “And green-eyed dancers can turn lovely shades of red, can’t they?” Lee said, grinning up wickedly at his friends.

  “Sure can,” Mick agreed. He smiled at Bryn, then turned his attention to Lee. “We were about to head on out. I think they needed our table. But we can wait around outside if you want.”

  Lee looked across the table at Bryn. “If Miss Keller won’t mind the assistance, I’ll give her a hand getting her brood home.”

  “Oh, no, really. I can handle them fine. I don’t want to hold you up!” Bryn protested. Don’t help me, she pleaded silently. It’s too easy to accept help. Too easy to lean on strength. And too easy to find your support gone, and you falling deeper….

  “Go on, Perry, Mick,” Lee said comfortably. He was looking at Bryn again. “We’re just fooling around with some new tunes tonight. Andrew had a date and won’t make it until eleven, eleven-thirty. I’ll carry our little rice-throwing Rip Van Winkle over there so you don’t have to wake him up. Then I’ll give Mick and Perry a call, and one of them can come back to get me.”

  “Oh, no, really…”

  “You already said that.” Mick grinned. “No problem, Bryn. Just make sure he gives us the right address when he calls.”

  She didn’t get a chance to protest again; they were already waving and leaving the restaurant.

  “Are you ready?” Lee asked.

  “I just have to get the check.”

  “I already paid it.”

  “What? How? When?”

  “How indignant you can get! I asked them to add your tab to mine when I saw you in here.”

  “But you had no right—”

  “Bryn, it’s a lousy dinner check.”

  “Mr. Condor, I earn my salary, and I pay my own bills.”

  “Ah…I just became ‘Mr. Condor’ again. I liked it when you used my given name. Okay, let’s set the record straight. You do earn your salary. You more than earn it. But I wanted to pick up your check. No strings, no, ‘You owe me something.’ Just dinner. It’s been worth it to have a meal with kids. Now, do you want to get out of here before Rip awakens and starts to bawl in the middle of the restaurant?”

  “All right, all right!” Bryn snapped. “Let’s go. I’ll carry Adam until we get to my van.”

  “The blue Ford?”

  “Yes.”

  She almost forgot about Keith and Brian as she struggled to stand with Adam scooped into her arms. It was Lee who turned back to them. “Brian, Keith? You guys all set?”

  They came with him as meekly as lambs.

  Outside the restaurant, Lee turned around and smoothly plucked Adam from Bryn’s arms. She didn’t say anything; Adam was a good forty pounds, and she had already been puffing. Lee carried him as easily as a football.

  She didn’t speak at all during the short drive home, but it didn’t really seem to matter. Lee talked to the boys. And she had to admit that he had a nice way about him. It wasn’t so much that he spoke to them as if they were adults; he spoke to them as if they were people—a talent which many grown-ups were sadly lacking. She vaguely heard a conversation that began dealing with different Indian tribes in the United States and went on to history in general.

  “My teacher said your medieval video was great!”

  “Well, thank your teacher for me, Brian. There was a time when I thought I might be a history teacher myself.”

  “What happened?”

  “I found out that I liked being a drummer better.”

  “I thought you played the tom-toms?”

  “Well, they’re a lot alike.”

  A few moments later Bryn pulled into the driveway. She began to hope that she hadn’t left laundry scattered anywhere, and that she had remembered to dust sometime within the past month.

  After parking, she turned around to look at Lee, who still held Adam.

  “I’ve got him,” Lee assured her. “Just lead the way.”

  Brian and Keith bounded out of the van; Bryn followed them at a more reserved pace. She didn’t fumble with the key, but she did have difficulty finding the light switch.

  “Upstairs,” she told Lee, trying to hide the trace of nervousness in her voice. “Brian, Keith, please don’t trip Mr. Condor.”

  She followed him up the stairs, along with their boisterous escort of two. “Adam is the bottom bunk!” Brian informed Lee in a low whisper. “I’m the top, and Keith has the bed over there.”

  “Okay!” Lee whispered, ducking low to deposit Adam on the bunk.

  “And Aunt Bryn sleeps in her own bed down the hall. She has her own room, you know.”

  Bryn gritted her teeth and clenched her fists at her sides, shooting her eldest nephew a murderous glare. If I did what I wanted to do to you right now, Brian Keller, she thought, I would definitely be arrested for child abuse.

  “You two go brush your teeth and get ready for bed!” Sometimes she could swear that they were sixteen and seventeen instead of six and seven.

  “I guess you want to slip his jeans off or something,” Lee told her with a smile. “Mind if I wait for you downstairs?”

  “No, that’d be fine, thanks,” Bryn replied.

  Lee disappeared. Bryn could hear water splashing in the upstairs bath as she tugged off Adam’s jeans. He’d be all right in his T-shirt, she decided. A tender smile tugged at her lips as she maneuvered the child about. He loo
ked so sweet and vulnerable in his sleep.

  “But you have to stop throwing food, young man!” she whispered, bending to kiss his forehead. “You’re bad for my image. You’re wreaking havoc with my aura of self-control!”

  Still smiling, she tucked the covers about him and tiptoed out of the room. Brian and Keith had apparently given their teeth a lick and a promise. They were already downstairs, chatting away to Lee. He had made himself comfortable on the love seat, with his left ankle crossed over his knee, his arms stretched behind him.

  “Brian, Keith—to bed. Now,” she told them.

  “Ahhhh…”

  “No ‘Ahhhs.’ To bed.”

  Thank God they chose to obey her! Rising, they gave her the usual kisses and hugs, then started for the stairs.

  “Would you like to tell Mr. Condor good-night and thank him for the meal?”

  “Sure!” Brian readily agreed. “Night, Lee. Thanks for dinner.”

  “Night, thanks!” Keith echoed.

  As soon as they started up the stairs, Bryn started to wonder why she hadn’t let them stay up. Now she was alone with Lee Condor.

  “Can I get you anything?” she asked him, surreptitiously glancing around the living room. Things looked pretty much in order. There were fingerprint smudges on the glass-topped coffee table, but the magazines on it were neatly stacked, and the long fingers of a philodendron hid a multitude of sins.

  “Not a thing,” he replied, watching her, a slight smile playing upon his lips, and that glint of golden amusement sparkling from his eyes. “Why don’t you sit down for a minute?”

  His eyes indicated the small space remaining on the love seat. Bryn lowered her lashes for a minute, then raised her eyes to his.

  “Because I don’t trust you,” she answered honestly.

  He chuckled, and she noticed again how nice his features looked with the ease of laughter.

  “What’s not to trust? I lay everything on the line.”

  “Hmm. Quite on the line.”

  “Do you still dislike me?”

  “No. Yes. No. Lee, it’s not a matter of like or dislike. You’ve been very frank about wanting to hop into bed, and I don’t feel like being used that way. You were nice with the kids tonight, and I appreciate that, just like I appreciate working. But—”