Adversaries and Lovers

by Patricia Watters

  “Then your models better also be good actors to make it work,” Kate said impulsively, then wished she hadn’t. She still didn’t understand Ben’s odd behavior in the pool while swimming with her, and she hadn't intended to turn the discussion about the swim fin promotion around and focus it on them, but the words slipped out, and she couldn’t take them back.

  All Ben said was, “We’ll make it work.”

  For the rest of the drive Ben seemed in deep thought, and Kate didn’t want to spoil their time together with a barrage of questions, so she leaned heavily against him and said nothing. When they arrived at his house and she stepped through the front door, she was stunned to find the place in total disarray. Dirty dishes filled the sink, the futon was a hodgepodge of bed pillows and throw blankets and with several dirty tee-shirts slung across the back. And on the floor beside the futon were slippers and flip-flops and random heaps of newspapers and magazines, and an open book laying face down. But what caught and held her attention was the line-up of her swim fin illustrations that were propped along the wall opposite the futon. She turned to Ben for an explanation for his unkempt place. He shrugged, and said, “I wasn’t intending to come by for you today.”

  She looked at him, perplexed. “Then why did you?”

  “Like I said, we need to sort things out.” He gathered up newspapers and magazines and tossed them into a box, scooped up throw blankets, pillows and tee-shirts and went to his bedroom and dumped them in a heap on his bed, then folded up the futon and walked over to the sink and started washing dishes. While he was doing that, Kate stood looking at the illustrations, the memory of their intimate session in the pool so vivid she could almost feel Ben's arm around her, holding her snugly against him. But she still couldn’t shake his odd words along with the cold shiver that ran through her when he’d released her and swam away. Just thinking of it sent a new chill coursing through her. Turning from the illustrations, she sat on the futon and waited for Ben and the reason why he’d brought her there.

  On finishing the dishes, he dried his hands and sat at the opposite end of the futon, watching her. She waited for him to speak, and when he offered nothing, she said, “So, what is it you want to sort out?”

  Ben rubbed his chin, as if going over in his mind what he was about to say, and replied, “Our relationship."

  Kate looked at him, baffled. “What relationship? There has to be a meeting of minds for a relationship to exist. You know all about me. You said I’m as easy to read as a deck of cards face up. But you are a very complex and impenetrable man, Ben. You surround yourself with beauty and you won’t let it touch your soul. You have a warm and caring heart inside you somewhere, but I can’t find it. Your grandfather's right, you do keep the world at arms length.”

  He looked at her, eyes guarded, and said, “Yeah, well, I’m working on that.”

  “Well, there can be no relationship unless you let me inside that impervious wall you’ve built around yourself, for whatever reason, so I can get to know you. Right now you’ve presented me with so many different Ben Stassens I don’t know which one I could even be comfortable with, much less be involved with in a relationship.”

  “Everything you’ve said is true, honey, I just need time to sort it all out. I’m asking you to give me that time.”

  Kate looked at a face stripped of pretense and into eyes, open and vulnerable, and for the first time, she felt as if a tiny portal in Ben’s wall had opened to her. She slowly moved to sit beside him, lifted her hand to his cheek, and said. “Thank you for sharing you. I know it didn’t come easy for you to do that. And I will give you that time."

  Ben lifted her chin, tilting her face up, and when his lips met hers she glided her hands around his neck and kissed him with all the passion that had been building inside her. His lips caressed her cheek and brushed her eyelids, then moved to nibble her ear. “Umm,” she moaned, savoring the tingles that rippled through her with the feather light strokes of his tongue as it traced the inner recesses of her ear. He kissed her neck and her jaw and returned to her ear...

  Kate was totally unprepared for Ben’s impassioned response. She had not expected things to go this far when she’d moved to sit beside him, and she knew it had to stop. This was not what she’d meant when she said she’d give him time. She propped her hands on his chest. “No, Ben, this has to..." but she never finished what she'd intended to say. She couldn't bring herself to tell him to quit breathing in her ear, or touching its rim with his tongue, or kissing her neck. Instead, she moved her hands down his chest, slid them around his sides and up his broad back...

  The thunderous sounds of backfiring echoed like shots in the night.

  Ben drew in a ragged breath. “Go away, Gramps,” he mumbled. Then, he captured Kate’s head in both his hands, kissed her soundly, and said, “Wait right here, honey. I’ll be back as soon as I can send Gramps on his way. Just don’t move, don’t lose your train of thought, and don’t start analyzing things." He stood, rearranged his clothes, combed his fingers through his hair and strolled outside. While he chatted with his grandfather, Kate watched the men from the window. Henry Stassen was a marvel of a man for his age--back straight, shoulders squared, belly flat. He stood a few inches shorter than Ben, but had probably lost height with age, so the tall gene must run in the family. She could imagine Ben at Henry’s age, still trim and fit, his handsome face carved with character lines, his head sporting an imposing crop of silver hair. Would she still know him then? Could she dare to dream?

  Both men looked toward the window and smiled, as if they’d shared an anecdote, perhaps about her. She backed away, not wanting to be caught watching. Realizing they would probably be talking for some time, she took the opportunity to use the bathroom, which was located off Ben’s bedroom. While there, she glanced at her face in the mirror. Maybe it was due to the multi-colored light that made its way through the stained-glass window, but her eyes seemed brighter, her face more flushed, her lips moist and eager. And as Ben requested, she would be waiting for him on the futon when he returned.

  But when she stepped out of the bathroom, her eyes locked on a framed photo on the small table beside Ben’s bed. Every muscle in her body seemed to go slack. In the photo, a pretty, blond-headed woman leaned back against Ben, whose arms encircled her, his cheek against the top of her head, her hands resting on his arms as they smiled into the camera. Kate lifted the frame and stared at the photo. Ben looked several years younger—his hair was cut close, and there were no lines of cynicism on his face. But, it was the face of the woman that held Kate captive. Hers was the face of a woman in love, totally and completely in love with the man holding her. Kate’s fingers felt something bulky behind the frame.

  She turned it around and was surprised to see a small gold anklet taped to the back, along with an envelope with a newspaper clipping. Unfolding the clipping, she read: BRIDE-TO-BE DROWNS: Gayle Marie Barnes drowned after a car driven by her fiance, Benjamen Stassen, in which she was a passenger, plunged into the Willamette River after being struck by a semi-truck. Stassen repeatedly dove into the murky water in an effort to rescue his fianceé and was ultimately overcome by exhaustion and had to be pulled from the water and resuscitated by EMT’s on the scene. The couple was to be married on Sunday.

  With trembling hands and a throbbing heart, Kate returned the newspaper article to the envelope and set the picture back on the table. A kaleidoscope of images whirled in her head, images of seeing Ben for the first time, dressed in black leather and towering above an elegantly-dressed crowd, and of him removing his motorcycle helmet and gloves and strolling toward the house, and of him standing tall in his tennis attire and bantering with her, and of him holding her in his arms and kissing her, while sending her his unspoken words of a promise yet to come.

  Then everything faded into one image of Ben diving into the dark, murky waters of the Willamette River to save the woman he loved, the woman for whom he was willing to lay down his life. Kate’s heart throbb
ed with a steady beat, and she felt as if the luster had gone out of her life. Then, like a fading dream, a decision slipped silently into her heart.

  ***

  Ben walked into the room to find Kate standing at the window, her arms clasped around herself, her hands gripping her elbows. If she’d heard him come in she gave no indication, continuing to keep her back to him. He walked up behind her, took her by the shoulders and turned her around, intending to kiss her. But when she looked up at him, her eyes were filled with tears. “Honey, what’s wrong?” he asked.

  She put her arms around his waist and tucked her head against his chest and held onto him, as if she couldn’t let go. “I saw the photograph by your bed and read the newspaper clipping," she said in a ragged voice. "I know I shouldn’t have done that, Ben, but I did, and I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry. She was such a beautiful girl, and you loved her and... it’s so unfair.”

  Ben couldn’t speak. He was holding in his arms a woman he was beginning to care deeply for, who was crying over a woman he’d loved and lost, and there weren’t words to describe the profound, heartfelt sorrow that welled inside him. For a long time he found comfort in just holding her. Then a numbness began to creep into him and he felt a deep, nagging uneasiness that his next words would be of enormous significance. After deliberating for some time, he said, simply, “Honey, that was six years ago. Time heals all wounds.” But he knew he was lying to himself, and to Kate. He’d been trying to shut Gayle out of his mind and it was becoming easier now, but he wasn’t yet ready to let her go and allow Kate’s love to fill that void. But, he couldn't let Kate walk away from him either.

  As though she’d heard his unspoken words, Kate looked at him and said, “I don’t believe your wounds have healed, Ben. You don’t need a relationship right now, you need a friend.”

  Ben said nothing, but in his silence he felt an overwhelming sense of loss for the warm, sensuous women he’d left waiting for him on the futon when his grandfather arrived, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to replace her with a friend. But looking at Kate’s determined face, and peering into a pair of resolute eyes, he realized he had no choice. He also knew it was unfair to expect more from her. She was not the kind of woman who could wander into his life, and into his bed, then move on again without looking back. She was gutsy and assertive and could put up a steely front when the occasion called, but she was also vulnerable, the kind of woman who would love unconditionally, and hurt deeply.

  There was also something indefinable about Kate that he’d not been aware of when they’d first met, that raised intense male protectiveness in him, and he felt a strong need to shield her from his personal tragedy. He looked down at her, and said, “Some day we’ll talk about it.”

  She stared at him with a blend of resolve and disappointment, and said, “But not now.”

  He shook his head. “No... not now.” He dropped his arms from around her and went to stand in front of the illustrations. And Kate knew that the tiny portal in Ben’s wall was again closed to her. She walked over to stand beside him. “I’m glad you like my ideas,” she said, staring at the drawings, wishing Ben would hold her and kiss her the way he’d done before his grandfather had come. But when he started talking about his plans for the TV commercial they’d be shooting in the next few weeks, she knew the moment of their coming together had passed and wasn’t likely to return. Ben’s wounds had not yet healed. Perhaps they never would. He had, however, asked her to give him more time, and she’d told him she would. But the dynamics of their relationship, or whatever it was they shared, had changed. No more clever sexual innuendo, no more stolen kisses, no more passionate embraces. Friends didn’t do that...

  “Are you with me, Katie?” Ben’s words caught her up short. He stopped his pacing in front of the illustrations while waiting for her response.

  She looked at him. “Sorry. I was distracted. What were you saying?”

  He started pacing again, and while he rambled on about the swim fin set-up, Kate began to wander around the room, hands clasped beneath her chin, trying to focus on what he was saying, but failing. It was while he was describing the difficulty of shooting underwater in the pool that she spoke over his words, saying, “Ben, take me back to Cooper’s Landing.”

  Abruptly Ben stopped his pacing. “Now?”

  “Yes now. I want to see it again. When I was wandering around the town before, I really wasn’t looking at it. I was too distracted. But now, I want to go back and see Cooper’s Landing through your eyes, and get to know it, and you.”

  Ben braced his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her, and said, “I was distracted too. My mind kept jumping between a pair of angry hazel eyes and a hot woman in a Sealskin suit. I’m having trouble keeping my mind off the woman in the suit right now.”

  Kate smiled. “Well, I don’t have the suit with me so you won’t be distracted by it.”

  “But I could be distracted by the lack of it," he said. "The hot tub’s still a good place to explore ideas... and other things.”

  Kate caught the flash of wry amusement in his eyes. It seemed that sexual innuendo would be part of their passionless relationship, and she’d have to be satisfied with that for now. But with time, maybe it would blossom into something more. She could still hope for that.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ben held out his hand for Kate to take. “Come on, babe. The mayor of Cooper’s Landing's going to take you on his exclusive tour, reserved only for intimate friends.”

  Kate slipped her hand in his and walked with him to the boat landing. By the time they were aboard and ready to leave, heavy clouds had gathered, and the moist, dank air promised rain. Kate looked heavenward, and said in a worried voice, “Maybe we should do this another time. Those clouds look pretty threatening.”

  Ben cocked his head and replied, as if it were an abstract consideration, “Don’t worry honey. If it rains, I’ll keep you warm and dry. That’s what friends are for.” As he slowly backed the boat away from the wharf, Kate leaned against the gunwales, watching him. She scanned the angles of his face, catching the laugh lines at the outer corners of his eyes. The strain she’d seen earlier had vanished, and he looked content, as if the burden of a relationship was gone and there was no pressure to be anything but what he was. She found that oddly appealing, because the pressure was also off her. Over the past few weeks her feelings for him had vacillated between being on the verge of hysteria, and wanting to crawl into his bed and stay there forever.

  But she had also not lost sight of her goal to convince him to build his corporate office somewhere else. She held faith that, in the end, he'd do what was right and leave the old folks alone to enjoy their golden years, while continuing to meet at the Corner Café for as long as they were able. Ben could not be so cold hearted as to take that away from them.

  By the time they reached Cooper’s Landing, the late afternoon sun was beginning to cast long shadows. Kate stood beside Ben, gazing at the town as if for the first time. During her last visit, between the scary motorcycle ride up the hill, and the episode with the ad layouts, she’d been so uneasy about what to expect from Ben that she hadn’t appreciated the exquisite beauty of the aged town and its weathered buildings. “Cooper’s Landing is an artist’s dream,” she said, musingly. “I wish I’d brought my paints.”

  “Don’t even think about ads right now,” Ben said. “We’re not here on business this time.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of ads," Kate said. "In fact, I never wanted to be an illustrator, or even an art director for that matter. I do it because it pays my bills. All I ever wanted was to be a traditional artist and paint with oils, which pays nothing.”

  “You never told me that,” Ben said, looking at her curiously.

  Kate shrugged. “You never asked. You said I was easy to read so I didn’t see a need to tell you anything more.”

  “I said that when I was a cocky bastard full of myself. But you had me pegged from the start as a man on the make, a
habit I got into to keep from—" he stopped short.

  “Getting close?” Kate added. “I’m familiar with that pattern in your behavior.”

  “Yeah,. Well, I’m working on that too. And you’re far from readable, Katie. You intrigue me and excite me. And you also make me want to be a better man.”

  "I'm glad," Kate said. She was tempted to tell him that if he truly wanted to be a better man, he'd find another location for his project, but couldn't bring herself to do it. But maybe, because of her, he was at last seriously thinking about it. "Meanwhile, come show me your town.” She hopped to the dock, and he landed beside her and interlaced his fingers with hers and led her through the vacant streets, telling her all he’d learned about Cooper’s Landing and the citizens who’d once lived there. On the outskirts of the town, Kate stopped and gazed across a patchwork of abandoned houses. “What finally happened?” she asked.

  “When the ferry stopped running, the cooperage shut down, and Cooper’s Landing just kind of faded away,” Ben replied.

  “That’s sad.” For a long time, Kate stood staring at the derelict settlement, saying nothing, until finally Ben rested his hand behind her neck, and said, “So, what’s going on inside that pretty head of yours?”

  Kate shrugged. “A few years back I came up with this design for a subdivision—"

  “So now the lady’s an architect,” Ben cut in. Then catching her look of mild vexation, he added, “Okay, what about your subdivision?”

  “Well, I got the idea from watching all the old folks going back and forth across the street. Now don’t say anything—“

  “I’m listening. In fact, I’m fascinated with what your subdivision might be.”

  “It’s just that, well I figured, if the fronts of the houses faced each other, and the occupants looked out onto a sidewalk instead of a street, then neighbors could visit each other by walking up and down the sidewalk and chatting over the fences in the front yards. The streets would run along the backs of the properties where the garages would be. I plotted out eleven houses for each five-acre parcel. There would be benches off the sidewalk, and a small park midway where everyone could gather to sit and talk and maybe barbecue." When Ben made no comment, Kate glanced at him and saw his far-away look. “Ben, we’re you even listening?”