by Becky Wade
She wasn’t a beauty, a genius, a talented artist, or an incredible athlete. How was she supposed to hold on to him once he returned to hockey and that whole glittering world of fame and professional sports and money?
The answer? She wasn’t. She’d had a role in his life these past three months. But her part was ending. And what was best for him now was for her to let him go.
She didn’t know if she could make herself do it.
She envisioned him skating again, fast and smooth. His face flushed with life, determination, concentration. He was in his element. And Kate understood, looking down into the water beneath the bridge, that she could let him go.
For his sake, she could.
chapter twenty-one
She told herself that she’d tell Matt her decision that very night, which was supposed to be one of Gran and Matt’s cooking nights. But when Kate came downstairs at dinnertime, she found Gran sitting at the kitchen table alone eating a bowl of leftover vegetable soup and reading a People magazine with Patrick Dempsey on the cover.
“What’s up?” Kate asked.
“Matt told me to tell you that he has something planned for you tonight. He’ll be by to pick you up,” she said, glancing at the clock on the wall, “any minute.”
“What kind of plans?”
“A surprise.” Gran did a double eyebrow lift.
“A surprise that I need to get more dressed up for? Or is this all right?” Kate motioned to her black turtleneck, jeans, and sneakers.
“You’re perfect. It’ll be very casual.”
Just then she heard a car pull up. Kate went to work donning her jacket, scarf, and hat. Gran bustled over to assist, handing Kate her purse and gloves.
Matt stuck his head in the door. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
“Have fun!” Gran said.
“Thanks.” Kate kissed her on the cheek. “G’night.”
“Good night.” Gran gave them both a cheerful wave.
Outside, gleaming gloriously in the moonlight, Morty’s Cadillac waited.
“Brace yourself, Kate,” Matt said. “We’re going on a double date.”
Despite the lead ball of dread that had been lodged inside her stomach all day, Kate’s spirits lifted a little. “With Morty and Velma?”
“Right.”
“In the Cadillac.”
“And my car both.”
Velma exited the Cadillac and watched them approach. “This was Morty’s idea,” she said to Kate. “I’m surprised that hottie here agreed to it.”
Matt shot Velma a warning glance.
“But I sure am glad he did,” Velma continued. “Now I can spend the whole evening checking him out.”
“Velma,” Matt growled.
Velma chuckled gleefully. “Morty wanted to give you a spin in his car, and since there’s just the two seats, I’m going to ride with Matt on the way to dinner and the movie.”
“Sounds good.”
Velma held the door for her, and Kate slid onto the Cadillac’s passenger seat.
“Just don’t get too comfortable in my seat, you hear?”
“Your seat, is it?” Morty asked Velma, beaming at her.
“Yes,” Velma replied, with bite to her tone, “that seat is mine, and if I see any other females sitting in it while we’re dating, I won’t think twice about taking a wooden paddle to your behind.”
“Wouldn’t dream of letting anyone else sit there, honey.” Morty grinned.
Velma huffed.
Morty put the car in gear and they took off. Kate enjoyed the fresh air, the car, their chitchat, and the ride, but mostly she felt relieved. This double date meant she didn’t have to talk to Matt about her decision tonight. She was only delaying the inevitable. Still, she was a wuss, and she’d take the stay of execution gladly.
With Matt and Velma following in the Lamborghini, they drove to a ramshackle roadside joint that served hot dogs, chili, and chili on top of hot dogs. The diner had been in business since Morty and Velma’s high-school days, and the two of them told stories from way back when. In addition to the chili dogs, the four of them shared a red leather booth, a pitcher of Diet Coke, and a plate of onion rings.
After dinner, they drove to Redbud’s movie theater. Kate had a moment of panic and took Matt aside right before they reached the ticket line. “This isn’t R-rated, is it? I can’t handle language or nudity while I’m sitting next to Morty and Velma.”
He winked down at her, amused. “Strictly PG, babe.”
“Ah, thank you.”
Inside the theater she sat with Matt’s arm around her and a bag of popcorn and a box of Junior Mints between them. It had been a great date, original and quirky and memorable. If Kate had been able to concentrate on it, she probably would have found the movie enjoyable, too. Instead, all she could think about were squirrels.
Squirrels.
Many hundreds of them lived in Dallas. They had an unceasing longing, perhaps wired into their biology, to want to cross streets. Because of this dangerous desire, coupled with a lack of any actual brainpower, they frequently ran right out in front of Kate’s car.
Sometimes the squirrels stayed on a straight course, crossing the street in a mad dash. Sometimes, though, they’d turn back in the middle and bolt back the way they’d come. Often that decision, to stay straight or to turn back, made the difference between life and death. It was hard for the poor squirrel and the poor driver to know which choice meant life. Which death. It just depended.
Tonight, she felt like one of those squirrels. She had two choices facing her: to ignore God and keep Matt, or to listen to God and lose Matt. She knew, in her head, which choice meant life and which death. But it felt the opposite way to her heart. She’d never before been so tempted to turn her back on God. She longed to do what she wanted instead.
She was just being a stupid squirrel, she told herself. Overwhelmed by a dangerous desire and a lack of brainpower. And yet, oh. She squeezed her eyes closed, feeling the warmth of Matt’s arm around her, his bulk beside her. She really really wanted to cross the street.
She barely slept that night.
Kate wasn’t ordinarily an early riser, but it was easy to get out of bed at the crack of dawn when the alternative was lying there racked with misery and insomnia. She’d showered and dressed by six thirty.
She knew that Matt went to the gym at seven almost every day of the week, and she wanted to catch him at home before he left. Had to catch him. She couldn’t stand to keep her decision to herself for a second longer.
Feeling destructive, she hit the donut shop on her way to his place and bought twelve of the most sinful donuts they had. Way more than the two of them could eat. Way more than her nervous stomach wanted.
Mist swirled around her, damp and fragrant, as she stood on his doorstep and knocked.
His face broke into a grin at the sight of her.
“Good morning,” she said.
“It is now.” He leaned in and kissed her.
She followed him inside, set the box of donuts on the chest of drawers near the front door, and shed her jacket. “Last time it was cookies,” she said. “I brought another vice with me this time.” She motioned to the donuts.
He flipped up the lid and had a look. “You’re determined to corrupt me, aren’t you?”
“Determined.”
He wore a faded white T-shirt that said Nike across the front in gray letters. Its thin fabric revealed the hard contours of his shoulders, chest, and abs beneath. His track pants were black and unzipped on the sides at the bottom, revealing bare feet. She could smell the sport soap he’d used in the shower. His dark hair had only half dried.
He looked incredibly hot. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, nuzzle him, and cling to him for the remainder of the day.
He was studying her closely, eyes narrowing. “How much sleep did you get last night?”
She was so busted. “A little.”
“It looks like a very l
ittle. What’s the matter?”
She looked at him helplessly, unsure where to begin.
He sighed, jerked two chairs out from the dining room table, and led Kate to the first one. He lowered into the second. “I’m not going to like it, am I?”
“It’s not terrible,” she rushed to say. Which was a laugh, considering she’d been in agony over this for the past twenty-four hours.
“No?” She could see him bracing for bad news.
He’d come so far during the time she’d known him. He trusted her. It seemed worse than cruel to do this to him when he was just beginning to heal. “I’ve been thinking about me staying here or you coming to Dallas.”
“You don’t want to do either one,” he said slowly, “do you?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to. I do. Either one would be wonderful.”
“But?”
“But . . . I’m just not ready yet.” She knew instinctively not to blame her decision on God or on hockey, which left her with nothing to give him but vague half-truths.
He looked at her, those beautiful, sad eyes framed with dark lashes.
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from babbling a hundred useless things.
“But I can still talk to you after you go,” he said. “Email, text. All that.”
“Sure.”
“And we’ll see each other. I mean, we can take trips back and forth.”
She nodded, though inwardly she knew it was going to be impossible for her to see him. Too painful.
———
Matt watched a shadow cross over Kate. He could see her withdrawing. He didn’t know what to say to keep her, to convince her to change her mind.
His stomach felt hollow, his throat tight, his heartbeat loud in his ears. He could accept that she didn’t want to quit her job and move here. That was a lot to ask of anyone, especially when they’d been together such a short time. But she didn’t want to let him come with her, either, something that would cost her nothing. He didn’t have the balls to ask her why. He didn’t want to know why.
He just . . . he just wanted to be near her. His instincts urged him to grab hold of the shirt she was wearing, to curl his fingers into it with all his strength, and not let go. She was his life. He couldn’t face going on without her.
“What’re you thinking?” she asked.
“That I . . .” love you. His pride stopped him from saying it. Idiot pride. After everything he’d been through, it came as a surprise to discover he still had some of it left. “Nothing.” Dizziness came over him, as if he couldn’t trust the earth to stay solid beneath him. With extreme force of will, he tried for a casual shrug. “I understand.”
“You do?” Her face softened, hopeful.
“Yeah. It’s too soon. Too fast. I get it.”
She leaned across the space that separated them and pressed her lips to his. “Thank you,” she whispered against his mouth before leaning back. She pushed a piece of her shiny red hair behind her ear. “I’ve been so worried. I don’t want to hurt you, ever.”
“It’s cool,” he said. “Really.” He felt exposed, and he didn’t think he could sit here like this much longer. He wasn’t that good an actor.
“I just want you to know,” she said, “that if things had been different, I’d have loved to move here.”
He needed to get up now and escape from her inspection. His chest was on fire.
“If I could have . . .” She lifted one shoulder awkwardly. “Well. If things had been different, I would have.”
He rushed to his feet. “I’m just going to go finish getting dressed. Be right back.” He left her and closed himself into his bedroom, leaning against the door. Harshly, he scrubbed his hands over his face, raked them through his hair. He was shaking. The shudders began way down in the core of him and radiated outward.
He needed time to get control of himself. Except that Kate was out there, probably staring toward where he’d disappeared, confused, waiting.
He made himself put on socks, his Adidas, a hooded sweat shirt. Then he forced himself to return to the front of the house.
She looked at him quizzically.
“You want to come work out with me?” He asked her only because he could see she wasn’t dressed for it and would have to turn him down.
“No thanks. I think I’m going to go back and see if I can get some sleep.”
“Good idea.”
“I’ll see you up at the house later?”
“Yeah.”
She lifted a hand to his face. Her fingertips skimmed across his cheek, jaw, and then rubbed along his lower lip.
He almost lost it then. He nearly caved under the rush of longing that howled through him.
She gave him an affectionate smile and turned toward the door.
As he let them both out of the house, the last thing he saw was the box of donuts sitting untouched. Their enjoyment, sweetness, promise . . .
Wasted.
Once alone in his car, Matt debated going to the gym. He felt too raw to be surrounded by people. But what else was he going to do with himself? Hide at home alone? Drive the highways too fast? He made himself go and proceeded to push his body with such bruising force that everyone in the place cut a wide path around him.
Repeatedly, as he worked out, he told himself to quit panicking. Kate wasn’t cutting him off completely. They had a couple more days together before she left, and she’d said they could continue long-distance. Except that his own hopes for their future had been so drastically different. Her choice struck him like an outright rejection, a crushing disappointment.
He’d thought she felt the same way about him that he did about her. He’d thought that she’d stay or that she’d want him to move there. He’d been way off. Once again, his perceptions were out of whack. He was a man out of touch with what was normal, with what everyone else already understood.
Why did you think she’d want you? he asked himself. What exactly do you have to offer her?
He wasn’t a hockey player anymore. He wasn’t famous anymore. No doubt she hoped to find someone to date who, like her, hadn’t been knocked around by life. He’d been married before, which no girl in her right mind would want in a boyfriend. And he had a truckload of baggage, which he knew had been a big pain for her to deal with.
Of course she wanted to take things slow. He should be overcome with gratitude that she wanted to continue with him at all.
But he didn’t feel grateful. He felt like his anchor had been ripped away. Aimless, unsure of himself, worried.
Kate noticed right away that Matt wasn’t the same.
She’d thought, or maybe she’d just wanted to think, that he’d taken her decision to return to Dallas really well. But the very next time she saw him she could tell that she’d hurt him.
To give him credit, he worked hard to keep up appearances. Over their final few days, they still spent almost all of their time together, he was still attentive toward her, he still looked at her with the same fiery intensity.
But something had changed. Diminished. There was a gauntness in his face. His smiles weren’t as sincere. And he was too . . . careful. As if, when he was near her, he had to think about everything he said and did before he let himself say or do it.
He’d trusted her, and she’d dealt him a blow. She knew she deserved whatever he dished out. Even so, his reaction devastated her. She’d treasured how easy he’d been with her. The way he’d let her inside himself. She’d lost that now. She told herself it shouldn’t make any difference. She was about to lose him entirely anyway. But it did matter. It mattered desperately.
Around midday on the day before their departure, Matt officially finished the last of his work at Chapel Bluff. Gran and Kate made a huge fuss over him, thanking him, repeating over and over what an amazing job he’d done and how much they appreciated it.
When he went home, Kate and Gran walked through the house arm in arm.
The grande dame looked bea
utiful. They’d finished what they’d come here to do, and Kate couldn’t have been prouder of their work. The honey-colored hardwood floors gleamed. The creamy paint looked rich and tasteful and also perfectly complemented the patina of the wood at the windows, moldings, and baseboards. Everywhere you looked, family antiques preened. The long-forgotten paintings had been mounted, the Depression glass displayed, the old quilts pressed back into service as bedcovers. All of the new pieces they’d acquired had been carefully chosen to flatter instead of detract from the old. They’d added simple furniture with clean, bright lines. Rugs. Throw pillows. Curtains. Tasteful lamps.
Chapel Bluff had become a home again. Warm and inviting, stately and charming, restored to its former glory. Gran had announced that from now on she’d be spending about half of every year here, and Kate herself was determined to come back often and bring the rest of their family along. This house had woken from its decades of sleep.
The two of them were slightly tearful and wholly sentimental by the time they finished their tour. Unfortunately, there wasn’t time to sit around reminiscing about the past three months. They had to run errands in preparation for their trip. And they needed to finish the sad, sad business of packing their suitcases.
That night, Kate’s last night in Redbud, fell on a Friday. Poker night.
Had it been any other night of the week, Kate and Matt could have spent it alone. But in honor of Gran and Kate’s departure, the seniors had planned a special poker night celebration.
Velma and Peg brought over dish after dish of their homemade specialties. They arranged a centerpiece of evergreen and gold ribbons and served dinner on festive Christmas plates with matching napkins. Gran poured sparkling cider in champagne flutes and everyone took turns making toasts before dinner and again before the gingerbread cake dessert. When it came time for poker, Morty was delighted when the others, in deference to the occasion, let him raise the buy-in from five to ten dollars.