McNeil's Match

by Gwynne Forster

  “I’ve learned a lot about myself these past weeks. Some of it I like, and some I don’t.” He locked the shop and went home, and although he wanted to telephone Lynne, he resisted doing so, for what could he say? I read your letter, and I’m glad you feel that way. Let’s have lunch? He wasn’t pretentious and didn’t know how to start. He missed Lynne probably as much as she missed him, but he wasn’t ready for that step.

  * * *

  Lynne checked into the Omni New Haven Hotel on Temple Street, unpacked her bags, pressed the wrinkled tennis suits and fell across the bed. This was it. If she did well in the Pilot Pen, she would definitely be on her way.

  “I want you to relax and have fun,” Gary Hines said when he called her. “You’re stuck with a helluva draw, but you’re playing well, and you’ll get through it. Remember that the fans will be rooting for you. See you on court for practice in about an hour.”

  On Monday morning, after fighting for two long hours, she won her first match in three sets from a woman who, in the old days, she beat easily, but who now held the fourth-highest ranking. Happy, but exhausted, she returned to her hotel as quickly as traffic allowed, showered and collapsed into bed. Two days later, she prevailed after a similar, but more grueling experience that depleted her energy. This was the highest-level tournament she had entered, and every top player was there to feed off the misfortunes of lesser, struggling players. And to think that, when I was near the top, I never concerned myself with how the losers felt.

  She ordered dinner in her room and was preparing to eat when the phone rang. “Hello,” she said, expecting either her brother or a member of the press.

  “Hello. This is Sloan. You really let it all hang out today, better even than yesterday. How do you feel?”

  “Sloan! Oh, I’m so glad you called me. I’m... How did you know I was here? Oh, Sloan, this is... I’m so happy that you called.”

  “So am I. I read that you had entered, and I wanted to wish you good luck tomorrow in your match with Davenport.”

  “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

  “She’s been known to lose, you know, and you two have a similar game, so you can figure out her moves.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  “I won’t keep you because you need to rest. Bye for now.”

  “Goodbye, Sloan. Your call was the medicine I needed.”

  She hung up, and tried to eat her dinner, but the food held little interest. Had anything changed? Did he read her letter, and if he did, had he forgiven her? At least he’d shown her that he was not intractable, that he’d bend. He called. That was really something. Not one affectionate word, but it was better than nothing.

  The next morning, unwilling to play the roll of the underdog, she donned her new yellow tennis dress and yellow sneakers, put a yellow sweat band above her forehead, packed yellow handled racquets and headed for the stadium. “Nobody can say I don’t look great.”

  She shook hands with the tennis great, loss the toss and the right to serve first, and lost the first set to Davenport with a score of 4–6. However, she quickly got on a roll and won the second set 6–3. So the lady could be had, she thought, and began the third and final set with her hopes high. However, Davenport loved the hard court as much as Lynne did, and at the end of the tenth game they were tied at five games each. It was then that Davenport raised the level of her game and poured it on, taking the set seven games to five, and winning the match.

  Lynne made her way to the net, shook hands with her famous opponent, plastered a smile on her face and bowed to the crowd, but the tears streamed down her insides. Victory had been within her reach, but in her overeagerness, she’d lost it and her opponent had played like the champion she was. She put her racquets, towels and soda water in her duffel bag, and almost ran to the locker room, where she dressed as fast as she could and headed out of the stadium complex.

  “Sloan,” she murmured to herself. “Where are you now that I need you so badly?” She had her duffel bag slung over her shoulder and her head down when someone yelled, “Great game, Lynne. We’re glad you’re back.” She looked up, waved and walked out of the building. Why am I looking as if I lost my best friend? I played a first-class game, and I lost to the number one player.

  She turned the corner to go to the car that awaited her thirty feet away and stopped. Her heart seemed to fly out of her chest, and the duffel bag slid from her shoulder to the ground. She stood there. How could it be? It was. Oh, it was! Sloan leaned against the limousine that awaited her. Her feet moved, and she sprinted to him as fast as her legs would carry her and launched herself into his open arms. He locked her body to his, lifted her and swung around with her, his head thrown back as if joy suffused him. When several clicking sounds were heard, he settled her on her feet.

  “Who’s the gentleman, Miss Thurston?” a reporter asked, and handed her the duffel bag.

  With an arm around Sloan’s waist, she told the reporter, “His name is Sloan McNeil. Thanks so much for retrieving my bag.”

  “Ready to go, Miss Thurston?” the limousine driver asked her.

  She looked at Sloan. “Did you drive?” He shook his head. “Ready, and Mr. McNeil is coming with me,” she said.

  In the back of the stretch limousine, she sat close to Sloan and rested her head on his shoulder. Maybe it was only for the moment, but her heart seemed to overflow with happiness at the knowledge that his arm was around her. His free hand tipped up her chin, and the bottom dropped out of her belly when his lips brushed over hers and then she felt the pressure, parted her own lips and took his sweet tongue into her mouth.

  “Did you read my letter?” she asked him when he broke the kiss.

  He reached into his pocket, withdrew the letter and showed it to her. “I didn’t right away, but after I read it, I had to come here because I knew you needed me, and I’m glad I did. Today, you played like a champion. I’ll bet anything that by this time next year, you’ll be on top.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know it. You came close to banishing the number one, but she knows how to close out a match, and she put everything into it. I’m so proud of you.”

  She hated to cry, but the tears that had been building up inside of her like stagnant water refused to be contained any longer and spilled out of her, down her cheeks, over her chin and onto her blouse.

  “What... You’re crying,” he said. “Stop. Please. I can’t bear it.”

  “I’m...it’s all...everything that’s gone on for the past weeks. It’s been awful. I managed to train and to practice, but looking back, I don’t know how I did it. My heart wasn’t in it.”

  “It’s all right, love. It wasn’t easy for me, either, but we’re together now.”

  The limousine arrived at the Omni and the driver got out, took her bag from the trunk, reached for the handle of the passengers’ door and discovered that Sloan had opened it and was getting out of the car. “No need for that,” he told the man and handed him a folded bill. Shame on me, she thought, for she hadn’t remembered the tip.

  In the hotel’s lobby, Sloan’s hand on her shoulder detained her. “When are you leaving?”

  “Gary will get my ticket. I haven’t spoken with him since I—”

  He interrupted her. “Since the end of the match? I don’t suppose he’ll suggest that you fly out tonight. Can we see each other this evening?”

  “I...uh, thought we might spend the rest of the day together. Want to come up while I shower and change?”

  Both of his eyebrows shot up. “Definitely not. I’ll wait down here.”

  At her shocked expression, he treated her to an electrifying smile. “To the best of my knowledge and judgment, I haven’t yet achieved sainthood, and if I go up there with you right now, I never will.”

  If a potential for wildness was holding him back, he need
n’t be demure on her account; she wouldn’t mind having him wild in her arms. She suppressed a sigh. What did she know about a man in the heat of passion? Willard had no idea what passion was.

  “I’ll be down in half an hour,” she told him, “and I’m already starved.” As if to insure his being there when she returned, she reached up and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth and was rewarded with a blaze of desire in his eyes.

  “I’ll be here.”

  Lynne didn’t know what to think of Sloan’s change of heart. Many questions roamed around in her mind as she showered and dressed as quickly as she could. He’d be there, because he’d said he would, but she could barely wait to get back to him. When she saw him leaning against the limousine with his hands stuffed into his pockets and his ankles crossed, seemingly casual and laid-back, she had thought her heart would burst open. She’d soon know whether he wanted to resume their friendship.

  Since he was wearing a beige linen suit with an open collared shirt, she dressed casually in a white pantsuit, yellow tank top and white loafers. She sprayed Fendi perfume at her pulsepoints, picked up a white shoulder bag and headed for the elevator.

  Standing to greet her, he appeared taller than she remembered. “Right on the minute,” he said, “and you look...” He seemed to search for the word. “Lovely.”

  “Thanks. Where’re we going?”

  He appeared to relish that question, for a grin lit his face. “To my lair, madam.”

  “Aren’t you going to feed me first?”

  “Whoa. If you’re joking, let me know it, and fast.”

  Genuinely perplexed, she stared up at him. “Joking about what?”

  His left hand went to the back of his neck where he rubbed furiously, a habit that she knew signaled frustration. “I’d better get us to a place where we can eat,” he said as if he were speaking to himself alone.

  “What did you say?” she asked him, unsure that she’d heard properly.

  “Would you call a taxi?” he asked the doorman.

  “Nine sixty-four Chapel Street,” he told the taxi driver.

  “Yes, sir. Around here, mister, you just say Zinc. That’s all a cabbie needs to hear. They serve the best.”

  “Glad to know it,” Sloan said. “A friend recommended it to me.”

  “Your friend steered you right. You not from this part of the country, I take it.”

  The driver monopolized Sloan until they reached the restaurant. “Many thanks, brother,” Sloan said when he paid the driver. “We’re from Texas, and this is my first visit to New Haven.”

  “Thank you, sir,” the driver said, his face wreathed in a smile. “Here’s my card. If you need transportation to the airport or anyplace else, just give me a call. Yes, sir. I sure do thank you.” She imagined that the man received a tip commensurate with Sloan’s usual generosity.

  “Did you telephone Gary?” he asked her after the waiter took their order.

  “Good Lord, I forgot all about Gary. The man probably thinks I’m someplace crying my heart out because I lost. I’ll call him as soon as we leave here.” She gazed up at him. “I thought you were going to take me to your lair.”

  When he leaned back and studied her, his whole demeanor tense and serious, she remembered that she shouldn’t joke with him about their relationship, at least not until they repaired it.

  “That’s where I’d like to take you, but I think you’ll agree that we ought to iron out whatever wrinkles remain in our relationship, and that we ought to have the comfort of either your home or mine.”

  “I do, and I’d like us to get started on it.”

  * * *

  “I saw a sitting area on the second floor of your hotel that offers a bit of privacy,” he told her. “Let’s sit there and talk, but first, call your coach.”

  As soon as she got into the taxi, she dialed Gary’s cellular phone number. “Hi, Gary, this is Lynne. Oh, I’m fine, but Sloan met me as I left the stadium, and I didn’t know he was in town. I forgot everything else. Huh? Yes, you could say that. What time am I leaving tomorrow? Eleven o’clock? Which airline?

  “Delta at eleven, nonstop. Thanks a lot. I’ll meet you at the door. Have a pleasant evening.”

  “If I can’t change my ticket, let’s meet at the airport,” Sloan said. “But I’ll hate not flying back with you.”

  When she got out of the taxi in front of the hotel, a glance at the darkening clouds told her that their decision to return to the hotel and talk there was the right one and, as they entered the elevator to go to the second floor, she said as much to Sloan.

  He reached for her hand and held it. “Let’s talk, and I mean talk. I won’t hold back, and you shouldn’t. We need to know and understand each other. I can’t continue this unless I know you will open up to me. Okay?”

  “You’re right, and I’m willing to try.”

  He found two comfortable chairs in a remote corner, turned them so that their backs partly faced passersby and suggested that they sit there, facing each other. As soon as they sat down, he took her letter from his pocket and read it aloud.

  “You must know that I love you, Lynne. Why couldn’t you tell me that you love me? Did you think that information would give me an edge of some kind? I need to love and to receive love just as you do.”

  “The truth? I suppose I didn’t tell you because I had never heard you say the words, and I’ve experienced so much rejection that I—”

  “Don’t compare me to Willard Marsh, Lynne. Put that part of your life behind you. I don’t deserve to pay for his transgressions.” He folded the letter and returned it to his pocket. “I’ll keep this always.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad I wrote it. Have you forgiven me? That’s what I need to know.”

  “I couldn’t have held you and kissed you if I hadn’t forgiven you. Your words hurt because they told me that the real Sloan McNeil wasn’t good enough for you. I love what I do, and I hope I never have to do anything else. If I get a chain of fifty shops, I’ll hire a manager, and I will work where I’m working now, doing the same thing I do now.” He stretched his left leg and then crossed his knees. “If you brought one of your fans or an author friend to the shop and found me lying beneath a car that I was repairing, how would you introduce me?”

  She wasn’t sure he was being fair, but she would examine that question more thoroughly later on. “I’d say this is my friend, Sloan McNeil, the best mechanic anywhere around here. If I had the right to say more, I would.”

  He leaned forward, pressing her hand. “Are you sure? I’m never going to change, Lynne.”

  “I don’t want you to change.”

  “All right. What do you need from me that I’m not giving you?”

  She struggled to snuff out the urge to laugh but couldn’t quite master it, and a grin spread over her face. He couldn’t possibly be serious.

  Like a flash of lightning, his gaze quickened, and desire blazed in his eyes. For a long minute, he stared at her. “It’s a damned good thing we’re not upstairs in your room. I believe in being prudent, but push me hard and I’ll say the hell with prudence. I owe you one for that.” They talked until it was time to eat dinner and then shared a meal in the hotel’s main restaurant, but she didn’t want to leave him.

  “I’ll walk you to your door,” he told her, “but I’m not going in. My plane leaves at ten-fifty, so if your coach doesn’t mind, I’d like to travel with you to the airport.”

  At her room door, his kiss was brief, but she didn’t ask for more. Their time would come, and very soon.

  She endured the seemingly endless flight with Gary sleeping beside her. When she reached the baggage carousel, Sloan leaned against the wall waiting for her.

  “Our flight left late. How long have you waited?” she asked him.

  “About an hour.”r />
  “And before you sleep this night, I mean to make it worth your while,” she said out loud. “If he needs me as much as I need him, it’s past time.”

  Chapter 7

  “You want to travel with me?” she asked Sloan. “Or, did you drive? I reserved a rental car.”

  “I took a taxi here, so I’ll ride with you.”

  She found the car keys and gave them to him. He put their bags in the trunk of the Chevrolet and, within minutes, headed toward the city. “There was nothing wrong with your car, Lynne. Did you know that?”

  “Yes, I knew it, but when I was trying to figure out a way to see you, Thelma suggested that I kick in the car door, leaving a dent, and ask you to repair it, but I didn’t think you’d pick up my car for anything as simple as that.”

  “Thelma’s a real piece of work when she puts herself to it. I’ve developed a true affection for her.”

  “Me, too.”

  He glanced at her and returned his focus to the crowded highway. “The best and surest way to get my attention is to go straight to the point. You should have called me and told me you wanted to talk with me. I know how I acted, but I also know that I wanted badly to have some assurance that you didn’t mean what your words implied and that you deeply regretted them.”

  “I hope you didn’t spend too much time trying to locate a problem with my car.”

  “That’s behind me.”

  She let herself relax as a plan for the evening began to form in her mind. “Would you please stop by one of the malls that has a supermarket or a gourmet grocer. I don’t even have milk in the house.”

  He waited in the car while she bought snacks and what she needed for dinner and breakfast. “Looks as if you did a week’s grocery shopping,” he said when he put the food in the back seat to take advantage of the air-conditioning.

  “Do you need to stop at home?” she asked him, aware of the boldness that her question implied.

  Both of his eyebrows shot up. “For a few minutes, if you don’t mind. Say, aren’t you picking up Caesar from the kennel?”