“I have prepared a traditional Cuban dinner of frijoles negros, arroz amarillo con pollo, salad and fresh bread,” Teresa explained, passing Kathleen platters heaped with chicken and yellow rice and aromatic black beans.
Kathleen had never tasted such food but spooned everything dutifully onto her plate. “It smells delicious.”
“My grandparents came to Miami from Cuba in the sixties fleeing communism,” Teresa said. “My parents moved to Tampa when I was a small child, so I have never seen Cuba. But my family has passed down the good food recipes of our homeland.”
“Which is one of the reasons I married her,” Christopher Kiefer interjected. “My family is from New England, where a boiled potato is considered high cuisine.”
The two of them laughed in unison, making Kathleen smile too.
“And I was born in Tampa and I crave pizza,” Carson said. “Go figure.”
“You do not bring a pretty girl home and feed her pizza,” Teresa said, clucking. “It is not civilized.”
Kathleen hastily said, “I like the food. I do most of the cooking in my house, so—” She had been about to say, “—anything’s better,” but stopped in midsentence because it didn’t exactly sound like a compliment to Teresa’s cooking. She cleared her throat. “I like the change,” she finished.
“Do you like volunteering at the hospital, Kathleen?” This came from Carson’s father.
“Yes. I plan to continue after school starts.”
“It’s been good for Carson too. He seems more settled since he’s been in the program.”
“Perhaps it is the company he keeps,” Teresa said, with a lift of her brow that made Kathleen blush furiously.
And so the meal went, with Kathleen fielding occasional questions and Carson’s parents discussing little details about their profession and their family. She learned that in their practice Christopher concentrated on adult heart patients, while Teresa specialized in pediatric cases. She heard more about Carson’s siblings and their successes. To her surprise, Carson didn’t say much, and when the meal was over, he asked her to watch a movie with him in the home theater downstairs. Kathleen thanked his mother profusely for dinner.
“It was a pleasure to have you visit us, Kathleen,” Teresa said warmly. “Carson does not often bring his friends home for a meal. We hope you will come again.”
On the stairway to the home theater and out of his parents’ earshot, Kathleen said, “You told me they demanded you bring me over for dinner.”
“They always want to meet any girl I’m dating. I just speeded up the process and invited you before they asked me to. They like to put their stamp of approval on everything I do.” He sounded resentful.
They hadn’t come across as controlling to Kathleen, but how could she judge that based on a single dinner? “What if they don’t like me?”
“Believe me, you’d know it if they didn’t. And if they didn’t”—he paused—“then I guess I’d have to sneak around to see you.”
“You would do that?”
“Sure I would,” he said without hesitation. “I’m not about to give you up. I like you, and I think we could have something special.” He took her hands in his, looked her in the eye. “What do you think?”
eighteen
SHE DIDN’T ANSWER. Was he serious? Only teasing? What exactly did he mean by “something special?” “I—I don’t know what you want me to say.”
He shook his head, looking disappointed. “I keep thinking that someday you’ll throw yourself into my arms and tell me you want me too. Maybe I’m asking too much, but I’ll probably keep asking because I like a challenge.”
She wanted to throw herself into his arms but didn’t want to act stupid or be unrealistic either. He said clever things, was dripping with charm and charisma, and she’d had very little experience with boys. She didn’t doubt that she must be a challenge to him—but what kind of a challenge? And once the challenge was met, then what? “Where’s this home theater, anyway?” She withdrew her hands and changed the subject.
Carson started to say something, changed his mind and continued down the stairs.
She followed. Around the corner, she saw burgundy leather double doors, a reproduction of doors from an old-style movie theater. Above was a marquee, surrounded by a row of lights that read WELCOME TO THE KIEFER THEATER. A movie house popcorn machine stood next to the doors. “Is this for real?”
“Dad’s a movie buff.” Carson pushed open the doors and lights came up automatically.
Kathleen saw eight custom reclining theater seats facing a red velvet curtain. Carson touched a control panel on a wall and soft music began to play. The curtains parted to reveal a movie screen with a series of titles scrolling slowly down it. “When one grabs you that you want to watch, let me know,” he said.
Kathleen was amazed by the room, but knowing that Carson wasn’t happy with her at the moment took some of the fun out of the experience. If only she were better equipped to handle her roller-coaster emotions when they were together!
“Look up,” Carson said. The domed ceiling was painted midnight blue. He turned a knob and tiny lights winked on, like stars. “Pick a seat. You want popcorn? I’ll fire up the machine, if you do.”
“I’m still full from dinner.”
“This is a good movie.” Carson paused on the title of a popular teen flick from a few years past. “Okay with you?”
“Fine.” She chose a chair in the center of the back row, not sure if he would even sit next to her.
“Soda? Candy?” He opened a panel along one wall that held a small refrigerator and a wet bar.
“Maybe later.”
He extracted a cola and to her relief, settled in beside her. From a handheld electronic device, he lowered the lights and started the DVD player. A full spectrum of sound thundered from every direction out of speakers hidden in the walls. “Don’t freak if you feel the seats move,” he said above the opening credits. “They’re supposed to vibrate with the sound.”
All she could think about was how pitiful her little TV and VCR must have seemed to him the night he’d come to her house. Everything about Carson—his home, his family, his experience with girls, his everyday life—screamed to her that she was way out of her league. She scrunched down into the chair and concentrated on the screen.
When the movie ended, Carson raised the lighting level. “Want to see another?”
“Not right now.” Kathleen stretched. “So what do you pay the ushers? I may want a job.”
“I know the place is over the top, but that’s how my dad does things. My friends hang here during football season—there’s satellite TV hooked into the mix.” He sounded more upbeat now. “Come with me. I’ll show you something else.” He held out his hand and she took it.
He pushed on a spot on the opposite wall of the theater and a hidden door swung open. Together they stepped into a room that looked lived-in and homey. She saw two desks, each with a computer; an old-fashioned jukebox; a wall unit of electronic equipment; a game table; and a rumpled sofa surrounded by squishy chairs. “This is my room. Through that doorway”—he pointed—“is the bed and bathroom area.”
The abundance of his material possessions astounded her. She felt jumpy as she also realized that she’d never been alone with a boy in his bedroom before. She found herself getting sarcastic, as she often did when she was nervous. She said, “Very nice. How do you stay so humble?”
“I date you. It sucks any conceit right out of me,” he fired back.
She walked around the room, making a mental inventory. “I guess you’re never bored.”
“My parents figured that if I had enough stuff, I’d stay out of trouble.” He paused and shrugged. “But it didn’t work.”
Irritated by his ingratitude, she turned on him. “Your parents care for you a lot. I saw that at dinner tonight, and now I see it everywhere I look. Don’t tell me you don’t believe it.”
“I know they care. The trouble is, I don
’t feel like I fit into this family. I’m not brilliant like my brother and sister. I’m not much interested in a medical career. And believe me, the lives of this whole family revolve around medicine. Strangers with heart trouble get more attention than the rest of us ever did. That’s not what I want for myself. So I’m the goof-off, the black sheep.”
She had trouble feeling sorry for him. From where she was standing, it seemed that he had everything, not only materially, but in familial support too. Not only were his parents healthy, but he had both of them. An intercom on the wall crackled with his father’s voice, startling her. “Son, can you come up for a minute?”
Carson looked annoyed at the interruption. “Sure,” he answered into the intercom. Turning to Kathleen, he said, “I’ll be right back. Get comfortable.”
Alone, Kathleen couldn’t resist slipping into his adjoining bedroom. It had an Asian motif and looked serene and expertly decorated in earthy shades of brown, green and black. Bright splashes of red broke up the muted tones. The bed was neatly made and she wondered how many maids it took to keep up the place.
Feeling guilty about snooping, she was about to leave when a group of framed photographs lining a shelf that ran the length of a wall caught her eye. She walked over to examine them. Most of the photos were of his family, and, she assumed, his friends. In some he looked much younger, and she smiled as she saw him morph from riding skateboards to pedaling bikes to driving cars. Ordinary pictures, she thought. All except for one. She picked it up. She felt as if her breath were trapped in her lungs as she stared at Stephanie’s beautiful, flawless face in a silver frame. Across the bottom Stephanie had written, “I won’t forget our special summer. With much love, Steffie.”
Kathleen felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Their special summer. What did that mean? How special was it? Instantly she was swamped by old feelings of insecurity and inferiority. She wasn’t pretty or exciting or steeped in sex appeal. She was just plain old Kathleen and she was a stranger here, someone playing make-believe in a world where she didn’t belong. Soon school would start and she and Carson would go their separate ways. Her special summer with Carson would be over soon enough.
She was sitting on the sofa when he returned. “Mom and Dad got called into the hospital on an emergency. See what I mean about strangers owning their time?” He didn’t sound mad, just matter-of-fact. “Anyway, they said to tell you goodbye and asked me to invite you again.” He went to the jukebox and punched a few buttons and a contemporary ballad began to play. “So what would you like to do? Watch TV? See another movie? Check out my bedroom?” He smiled at the last suggestion and waggled his eyebrows.
She stood. “I should go home.”
His smile faded. “Why? Are you afraid of being alone with me? Afraid I can’t keep my hands off?”
“I’m not afraid.” But that wasn’t entirely true. She was afraid…afraid of how he made her feel when he held her and kissed her. Of the ending that she knew was waiting for them in the upcoming months. She faked a smile. “Look, I just got back into my mother’s good graces. I don’t want to spoil it just yet. Help me out, okay?”
He didn’t look as if he believed her, but he said, “If that’s what you want.”
Their eyes met and she felt the ever-familiar sensations of attraction and desire churn inside her. Yet the image of Stephanie and her intimate signature burned her mind like a brand. Her heart hurt. “Yes. It’s what I want.”
“Hey, Raina—how do you want Dad to cook your burger?” Hunter called from across his family’s backyard patio.
“Well done.” She was sitting in a lounge chair helping Holly snap green beans. Evelyn was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the evening’s picnic meal. Mike was flipping burgers on the far side of the deck, wearing an apron that read DANGER: MEN COOKING, while Hunter talked to him.
Raina looked longingly at Hunter. “I can’t believe he’s leaving tomorrow.”
“It’s just for a week,” Holly said. “Believe me, I won’t miss us fighting for the bathroom in the morning.” Her bedroom was separated from Hunter’s by a shared galley-style bathroom.
“I don’t know why he has to go to that dumb camp anyway. Once he gets back, we’ll only have two weeks until school starts.”
“He’s a counselor and he gets to crack the whip over the lowly. He’s been looking forward to it since last summer.” Holly jiggled the pan of fresh beans. “It’ll be fun.”
“You’re not going,” Raina said testily.
“It’s not my thing. I went once in eighth grade, capsized my canoe and almost drowned. I think they still talk about me because I was such a klutz. Nope, church camp’s not for me.”
Hunter came over, adding, “She capsized in two feet of water and was never in any danger.” He sat next to Raina on the lounger.
“It was scary,” Holly said.
“It was embarrassing,” Hunter corrected. “There was some guy she was trying to impress.”
“Well, he never forgot me, I’ll bet.”
Hunter said, “Probably not. When she came up from the water, she had a piece of swamp grass on top of her head and she looked like an escapee from a cartoon.” He and Raina laughed together over his description.
Holly picked up the pot of fresh beans. “Yuk it up. I’m out of here,” and with feigned indignation, she carried the pot toward the house.
“You’re not still miffed about my going off tomorrow, are you?” Hunter asked.
“No, just sad. I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.” He toyed with her fingers.
“Don’t forget. Our Pink Angels banquet is a week from Saturday.”
“I won’t forget. Holly wouldn’t let me. The folks are coming too.”
“So’s my mom. Even Kathleen’s mother is supposed to show.”
“How’s Kathleen doing with that Carson guy?”
“All right, I guess. She’s at his house for dinner tonight. She really doesn’t talk about the two of them very much. Holly and I get on her case about it all the time.”
“The three of you practically live together. How could you keep any secrets from each other?”
“We don’t,” Raina said truthfully. “And because we keep each other’s secrets, it’s what makes us best friends.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “You keeping secrets from me?”
“A girl without secrets would be boring.”
“So you are keeping something from me! I’ve always thought so.” Still, he grinned.
“I’ll never tell.”
Just then his father yelled, “Burgers are done! Come and get ’em.” He carried a platter of hamburgers from the grill to the picnic table.
“Let’s eat,” Hunter said to Raina. “We’ll talk secrets later.”
The screen door slammed and Holly and Evelyn emerged carrying platters of corn on the cob, potato salad and freshly steamed green beans. “Let me help,” Hunter said, jumping up.
“The pie’s on the countertop,” Evelyn said.
Hunter headed off to retrieve the dessert.
Within minutes they were seated at the picnic table and had filled their plates. Raina picked up her burger and was just about to take a bite when Mike cleared his throat. “We’ll bless the food now.”
Embarrassed, she quickly placed the burger back on her plate. “Sorry,” she mumbled. She felt Hunter’s gaze and regretted forgetting this part of his family’s ritual. She bowed her head because it was expected and waited while Mike Harrison thanked God for the food. All the time, she knew that much more than secrets lay between her and Hunter.
* * *
“You’re awfully quiet,” Carson said to Kathleen. “Didn’t you have a good time?”
He was driving her home from the dinner with his parents. “I had a great time. I’ve just been thinking.”
“Uh-oh. When a girl says she’s been thinking, it usually means trouble.”
She knew she should say somethi
ng cute but couldn’t come up with anything. She couldn’t get the thought out of her head that Carson and Stephanie would be able to see each other every day once school started.
He pulled the car into her driveway and turned off the engine. “Tell me,” he said. “What are you thinking about?”
“About school starting and getting busy and not having time for each other.” She wanted to ask about him and Stephanie but didn’t know how.
“That’s not going to happen. I promise, you won’t disappear from my life.”
“Someone else might come along.”
“I’ll knock his lights out.”
The car’s interior was dark and the moon had slipped behind a cloud. “Not for me. For you.”
He lifted her chin. “There’s no one else I want. How many times do I have to say it?”
She took a deep breath, trying to muster the courage to bring up Stephanie, then noticed something beyond him on her front porch. “That’s odd.”
“What?”
“The porch light’s off. Mom always leaves it on for me.”
“Tell me about it. Maybe the bulb’s burned out.”
“I don’t think so.” Kathleen got out of the car and went up the walk and onto the porch. The whole house was dark.
By now, Carson was beside her. “Maybe she went to bed early.”
“We usually leave some lights on all night in case she needs me,” Kathleen explained, fumbling in her purse for her key.
Kathleen unlocked the door and thrust it open. The house was eerily quiet. She quashed the urge to yell for her mother. Carson might be right about her being asleep. She’d been so tired lately, she often went to bed right after supper.
Kathleen hurried toward the kitchen and her mother’s room. In the kitchen, only the small light over the stove was shining. It cast long shadows, but in its feeble light, she saw her mother curled up on the floor in a fetal position, her wheelchair tipped against the wall.
Kathleen screamed.
nineteen
CARSON HIT THE light switch, bounded across the kitchen and dropped to his knees beside Mary Ellen. He shouted, “Kathleen, call 911!”
Kathleen's Story Page 13
