Prickles of anticipation feathered across the back of her neck as he glanced her way before he spoke again. “It’s nice to be alone with you for a change.”
Harmless prickles became chilling waves of caution as his voice whispered over her skin. She pulled the collar of her jacket more tightly around her neck.
“Are you cold? I can close the window.”
“No.” Reaching out, she touched his arm briefly then pulled her fingers back and made herself keep talking. “I have a beautiful view of Lake Ontario out my living room window.”
“I was convinced to buy a condo in Cascade Estates.”
“You sound like that wasn’t something you wanted to do.”
“It’s just, Beth Heade maneuvered the deal for me then advertised my address on her website.”
“Barry, that’s awful.” She reached out to touch his arm again, but this time, didn’t pull away. “I’m so sorry.”
He stepped on the gas when it was their turn to proceed. “She always was pretty ballsy.” He glanced over at her. “Sorry. That wasn’t nice to say in front of a lady.”
“A true statement I certainly agree with.”
They made small talk for awhile until, topics nearly exhausted, Amanda and her nerves slumped back in the seat. She rested her head along its back and lowered her lids. “I’m nervous, Barry. Twenty-five years is a long time not to see someone. Or even talk on the phone.”
“It’s like we’re strangers.”
Hearing him whisper, she opened her eyes. “Something like that,” she admitted, her gaze purposely straying to take in treetops and sky out the front windshield.
He blew out a heavy breath. “And so many years ago we didn’t exactly part ways on the best of terms.”
“No. We didn’t.” Her voice had become so faint, she hardly heard it herself.
“That’s always been a regret of mine,” he admitted on another exhale. “If you’ll allow it, I’d like to correct that.”
Unable to bring herself to look at him, she measured her words. “The past can’t be changed, Barry.”
“That’s not my intention. I’d just like to explain myself. Get you to understand why I acted like such a jerk that night.”
At his reference to the last time they were together, memories she’d managed to keep tucked away and forgotten all night blasted forth like a rogue wave crashing onto the shore. Then, the water receded to reveal the frighteningly clear picture of a teenaged Barry with his hands gone white knuckled in anger on the steering wheel of his mother’s car, mouth grim, expression riddled with irritation. Face forward, eyes focused as he drove her home.
Gaze trained out the window, she struggled, and failed, to shut out the ugly vision from years ago. Then a lone tear slid down to warm her cheek.
It was official, Barry Carlson could still make her cry.
The scenery she pretended to have under intense scrutiny quit moving. Then she heard a series of distinctive clicks as Barry shoved the gear shift into Park, then shut off the engine. For the next few moments the whoosh of waves to shore was the solitary echo in the car’s darkened interior. As the full moon illuminated the surrounding landscape, Amanda recognized they’d stopped by the side of the road.
At the turn off to Angel Wings Bluff.
****
Though her conscious mind knew what was real and what wasn’t, in her heart she’d reverted to a naïve, love struck teenager. One who’d been granted a long held wish: to be alone with high school heartthrob Barry Carlson.
Years ago...when they were alone up there, sitting in a car, talking about the state of the weather and the extent of the moonlight. And all she could think was how much she wanted him to stop the trivial rambling and make her dizzy with his kisses.
Recognition of the long ago yearning rushed the blood up to scald her cheeks.
“According to my sisters, you took off from Summerville right after I did.” Body positioned toward her, arm threatening to enter her side of the seat, Barry spoke in a tone so hushed, Amanda felt the chill of goose bumps crawl down her arms.
A second tear trickled along her other cheek. Head angled away so he wouldn’t see, gaze riveted out the window, she couldn’t trust her voice just yet.
“I was a stupid, egotistical kid at the time,” he went on. “More embarrassed than anything.”
The heartfelt admission made her turn his way. “You were so angry.”
He leaned his head against the seat with his eyes focused on the ceiling. “At myself.” He shifted his gaze to look at her. “Not at you.”
“Then you left,” she whispered.
It took him so long to respond, she wondered if he’d heard what she said. When he did, her gut clutched so tight, it was a struggle to draw a breath.
“You don’t have to say the rest,” he said. “I know exactly what the finish is. ‘Without saying good-bye.’”
More tears followed; all she could do was let them flow. “I waited for your call the next day,” she admitted in a voice she wished sounded stronger. “And, for about a week after.”
“I wanted to call. Then I got scared. I wasn’t sure if you’d told your father what happened. Since he worked with mine, I didn’t want to take a chance on anyone else finding out.”
“I never would have told them what happened.”
“I should have known that, but didn’t.”
“Then The Ontarian ran a story about you being courted by the pros and how you made the responsible choice to go to college first.” She couldn’t stop the sarcasm that crept into her tone. “I was surprised the Chamber of Commerce didn’t throw a parade to honor your departure.”
He laid his hand on the seat beside hers. “Yeah. My dad arranged the newspaper article. It wasn’t that big a deal. He did that kind of thing for a living being communications director at Eastman Industries. He and my mother struggled all their lives just to feed five kids and pay the bills. All he could see was one less kid to help through college.” He paused to take a breath. “Before all that, I was torn. Part of me wanted to stay in Summerville, settle down, get married, raise a family like I’d seen my older sisters do. What the hell could I do after that big a sendoff?” The bitterness in his tone surprised her. “But leave.”
She pushed a matter of fact tone into her voice. “You had a promising career waiting for you.”
“When all I really wanted was a happy home.” Sadness in the way he said it pierced through her until she had to move in her seat to dislodge the ache.
I wanted a happy home too.
She swallowed to keep her next words from starting on a sob. “I couldn’t wait to get out of Summerville, either. If your father was aloof, mine was the exact opposite. Smothering doesn’t even begin to describe what it was like being his daughter.”
“If I had a daughter as beautiful as you, I might have protected her the way he did you.”
“Now you’re defending him?”
He flinched. “It feels like an accusation of being a traitor. I’m trying to give you a compliment.”
Abruptly, she shifted her body and faced forward. “Which is worse than patronizing me.”
“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to do either.” When she didn’t so much as look at him, he went on. “It’s just so sad when you think what we might have missed.”
“We both ended up with successful careers.”
“That’s your take on it?”
The pain in his voice made her wince. “You’re saying a pro career with all the records and honors you accumulated wasn’t success?”
“You know what they say about the eye of the beholder.” He shook his head. “You’d be surprised how many times I wanted to get in touch with you.”
“How many, Barry?”
He reached over to cover her hand. “I lost count after a couple of thousand. Then when I was finally able to return for a visit, you weren’t here anymore.”
“After I left, I made it a point to not come home for a
while.”
“You’re glad you moved away?”
“I didn’t say that.” Her words came out faster than she expected. Closing her mouth, she drew in a breath. “At first New York City was exciting. Then, it’s so crowded and soon becomes an intense place to live. It’s noisy, busy, impersonal, lonely.”
“You weren’t—” He swallowed. “According to Marcy, you didn’t live there alone.”
Looking up at him, emotions pent up for so long got the best of her. “Sometimes living with someone isn’t enough. Sometimes you’re still basically alone.” Stunned at the admission, she spun away from him.
“So, in a way, you did miss being home in Summerville.” She sensed him move closer until the warmth of his breath tickled the back of her neck. “What specifically did you miss the most?”
She turned a reluctant gaze his way. “So many things. I’m not sure where to start.”
Your face every morning when I left the hell hole of my parents’ house and hurried to get to the high school so I could watch your eyes light up the minute you saw me.
Rising frustrations, some from long ago, others from present day, forced her to look at the hands clenched into tight fists in her lap. Good old Summerville was light years away from the smoke and mirrors of a Madison Avenue existence. Since coming home, she slept better and didn’t cry herself to sleep as often.
Then Barry Carlson sauntered back into her life.
She felt his fingers beneath her chin before she heard his voice. “It’s good to have you back here in Summerville.”
The tip of his thumb drew a line along her jaw bone, then came to rest beneath her ear. Incredible heat traveled down her neck and across her chest to stab at her heart. “Care to tell me what you’re thinking?”
At the sound of his low and suggestive tone, she took in a fast breath. “Nothing important.”
Except how good it feels to have you touching me.
How I never stopped loving you.
As moonlight filtered into the scant space of the car, she watched in wonder as Barry tilted his head, then sought her mouth. As she had more than twenty years ago, she more than met him half way. Fingertips grazing the solid expanse of his shoulders, she brought her hands together around his neck. Palm and fingers flattened against the back of his head, she drew him into her and knew she’d be happy to spend the rest of her life in his arms.
Her initial goal, surviving the ride home with her heart intact, failed the second he kissed her.
Chapter Five
The Hornets post-practice locker room was a chaotic blend of noise and activity. Driven by adrenaline, conversations recounted achievements or detailed screw ups amid a blurred commotion of sweaty males in all stages of nakedness. A few, like Barry, were fully dressed and about to head out.
“Hold up, Carlson,” pitching coach, Carl Melrose called out as he wove through a maze of towel-clad bodies. “Since there’s no game or practice tomorrow, a few of us are going out to blow off some early season steam. Eat some nachos, shoot a little pool. Maybe get ourselves laid. Wanta come?”
Standing in front of a mirror that stretched the length of one wall, Barry hit the front of his freshly combed hair with a few pumps of hair spray. “Not tonight, thanks. I’ve got plans.”
With a towel riding low over a bulge that appeared to already be craving some action, Melrose stopped and turned around. “Plans, eh? You’re connecting already. Anyone I know?” He picked up a smaller towel he slung over one bare shoulder. “Or, anything you wanta share?”
Barry gave his best shot at a tolerant smile as their eyes connected in the mirror. Would he never live down his past? “Not those kinds of plans,” he replied and returned his attention to his image. Shaved, showered, teeth brushed, cologne applied. In the old days he’d be primed and ready for a night on the town. Or, more specifically, one spent in some willing woman’s bed. A prospect which held minimal interest for him anymore.
“Not those kind of plans,” he repeated.
From behind, someone asked, “You sure, Carlson?”
“Just doesn’t seem right,” another voice chimed in. “What happened? You battin’ for the other side now?”
Barry slowly twisted to a series of low wolf whistles and cat calls. “Not that I’m aware of. Why? Are any of you?”
Contemplating the prospect of scoring a random lay was not what he was about any more. Though the idea of a female companion held certain appeal, only one female would do these days. The one who he’d asked out on a regular basis for the past few weeks. Capping the can of hair spray, he lowered his eyes. And who turned him down each and every time.
One kiss when he brought her home from Doogan’s got his hopes up when maybe it shouldn’t have. Because, ever since, she’d turned avoiding him into a freakin’ art form.
Somehow, he had to make Amanda see he craved spending time with her. For now and the rest of his life.
“So, come on, Carlson. Tell us the truth,” someone else restarted the teasing. “You really dateless tonight?”
“Really am.” He turned into the room one last time. “I’m going over to one of my sister’s for dinner.”
As more hoots and a hollered, ‘yeah right,’ followed, Barry only smiled. “It’s called family time. Something I, for one, need to catch up on.”
Moving to the front of the locker with his name in black marker taped above it, he shoved his wallet into a back pocket of his boot cut jeans then slammed the door shut and gave the attached padlock a few quick spins.
“No liquor and in bed by eleven o’clock,” he told the players who chose that moment to walk by.
A sharp volley of groans and protests answered his words until one smart ass spoke up. “What if we can’t find anyone to go to bed with until eleven thirty?”
“Home and in bed alone by eleven,” Barry corrected.
Do as I say, not as I did.
Flinging his dirty practice uniform and wet towel into the locker room hamper, he hefted the duffel filled with his sweat soaked underwear among other personal items, and pushed through the double utility doors to the outside.
Afternoon sunshine stroked his face; fresh spring air entered his lungs and Barry reminded himself being in his home town had certain advantages over big city smog and soot. Entering the staff parking lot, Barry saw Amanda walking to her car parked on the far side of the lot.
Yes, sir, definite advantages.
A short sleeved white blouse, open at the neck, was tucked into beige dress slacks. Flowing loose at the ankles, the smooth material covering her hips and thighs clung like saran wrap.
Even from this distance, he easily made out each rounded curve. The worn jeans he’d pulled on after practice tugged uncomfortably behind the zipper, but he kept walking.
Amanda’s head was down as one hand searched in her purse. Probably for keys, Barry surmised. Then something fell out and hit the pavement. Backside toward him, she bent over to pick up whatever it was and sweat broke out across his upper lip. As he took in the unbelievably sexy sight, his zipper jerked tighter yet.
Sensing she was about to turn around, he hurried to lift his gaze. He really needed to quit fixating on Amanda’s ass.
“I see you got it back.” He was careful to smile and slow his pace as he approached.
Obviously unaware what he referred to as ‘it’, she dropped a quick gaze to check out her front while Barry labored to keep his eyes on her face. “Your car. You have your car back.”
She twisted her head behind. “Yeah. I do. For now.”
At a loss what else to do, he made a show of checking his watch. “It’s only four thirty. Roger let you out early today.”
She returned whatever had fallen out to the purse she snapped shut. “Roger didn’t let me anything. When my work’s done, I go home.”
“Marcy took the day off. One of her girls had to go to the dentist, I think.”
“Actually, it was an appointment with an allergist. Amy’s allergic to gras
s.”
He pressed his lips together to keep from saying, ‘I knew that.’ A touch of embarrassment was all he had time for. As far as he was concerned, that Amanda knew more about his nieces than he did wasn’t a bad thing.
“Both Diana’s boys are allergic, too.” He mentioned the conditions of his youngest nephews, because?
To prove he contained some semblance of family man.
“Not a lot of that kind of thing in New York City,” Amanda offered. “Going to the allergist wouldn’t have been something I’d have to do anyway. Not having kids and all.”
“Yeah. Me either,” he said with a shrug. “A couple of guys in Baltimore were allergic to grass. One guy even had to carry one of those epi-pens in his uniform pocket.”
By the time he finished the story, her eyes had begun to glaze. In the old days, he charmed rooms filled with sports reporters, male or female, with a few ad-libs and well placed grins. In present time, with Amanda, he could hardly stutter through an everyday conversation.
“How was practice?” she asked. “Are the players coming together as a team?”
A topic right out of Small Talk 101.
It had been awhile since he’d been this close to her and he’d forgotten how much he missed that. Heaven must be akin to this, surrounded by the sweet scent unique to Amanda: flowers, fresh air and sunshine.
Then he noticed she stared at him as she awaited his response. The team. She’d asked about the team.
“They’re doing okay.”
“Practice went well then,” she supplied when he said nothing more.
“Yeah.”
Sunlight glinted off her long, dark hair like strings of sapphires. Then the wind fluttered a few strands over her face and Barry had to shove both hands in his pockets. It was that or raise one hand to brush the hair away for her. And probably end kissing her until they were both forced to come up for air.
“So, you doing anything tonight?” he asked. “Going anywhere for dinner?”
“Just home to warm up some cold pizza.” She drew her lower lip between her teeth as her full attention went to digging for her keys. “Or maybe just eat it cold.”
To Be, Or Not (Class of 85) Page 5