A Splendid Obsession

by Cathleen Galitz

  Dropping to one knee, Dave did his best to assure her. “The book’s insignificant. I’ll destroy it if that’s what you want. Your feelings are what matter the most to me.”

  Kayanne shook her head. That wasn’t what she wanted. The words he’d written were already burned into her memory never to be erased. Emotionally spent, she saw no reason to punish Dave beyond the hateful things she’d already said to him. She managed a wobbly smile.

  “I think you’ve got a bestseller on your hands. One that should guarantee you’ll never have to go home to run the family business unless you decide that you want to. For what it’s worth, I really do wish you well.”

  The furrows in Dave’s forehead deepened as he took both of Kayanne’s hands in his. “It sounds like you’re giving me the brush-off.”

  “I’m letting you go as a friend.”

  Dave looked shocked when the enormity of that statement hit him. “You can’t possibly mean that we’re through.”

  Kayanne’s smile slipped. “It’s for the best.”

  “I’m on my knees,” Dave pointed out. “Begging you to give me another chance.”

  She studied the face that she loved: eyes the color of aged wood, dusty hair soft to the touch, a mouth that smiled generously and often, and tanned skin pulled over angular handsome features. The thought of this man loving anyone else killed her. And yet, she couldn’t deny him the opportunity to move on with his life. He had every right to take some fresh-faced coed to the family plantation. Someone his parents would welcome into their family with open arms. Someone like Jasmine.

  A note of desperation stole into his voice. “Since I’m down here on my knees already, why don’t I go ahead and make it official by proposing?”

  It was the last thing Kayanne expected. She didn’t know how to react. She didn’t even know how much she’d wanted to hear those words until they were actually spoken aloud. All the glamour and glitz of modeling faded into nothingness compared to a lifetime spent with the man she loved. Sharing not only his bed but also his dreams. It was more than she’d ever allowed herself to hope for. Certainly more than anything waiting for her in the big city.

  Unfortunately, Dave’s proposal felt like an afterthought, something intended to make things right by temporarily smoothing hurt feelings. Not something on which to base a lifetime decision. Kayanne brushed her lips lightly against his. Determined to remain strong, she fought the sob struggling to rise to the surface.

  “You shouldn’t propose to me because it just wouldn’t work.”

  Her voice was gentled by a truth too painful to be spoken above a whisper.

  “Because whatever Spice becomes by the end of your book, I can never become anything other than me. Reading those first few chapters made me realize that on some level you’ll always be ashamed of me.”

  Dave hotly protested the ridiculousness of that assertion, but she put a finger to his lips and asked him to let her finish.

  “Given our differences in background, education and experiences, your family would never accept a wild child like me. And I can’t say that I blame them. My life hasn’t exactly been low-profile.”

  The stricken expression on Dave’s face told Kayanne that he’d given this some thought himself before reaching a similar conclusion. While he might conveniently forget to mention to his parents that he was living with her, marriage required family knowledge, involvement and, ultimately, approval. Kayanne didn’t want to put that kind of burden on him when it was obvious that he was struggling to separate his needs from theirs as it was.

  “It’s okay,” she assured him, doing her best to sound cavalier. “Can you imagine me at some stuffy academic banquet making small talk with fellow professors about the Shakespearean authorship debate? And their reaction when they discover the only degree I have is a high-school diploma?”

  “Who gives a damn about what anybody else thinks?” Dave yelled.

  “Believe it or not, I do.”

  No matter how far she’d come, Kayanne could never outrun her past. Beneath all those slick magazine spreads was a little girl who wouldn’t ask friends over to play for fear they would make fun of where she lived.

  “Knowing you’re ashamed of me would be worse than not having you at all. You have my blessing to end your book however you want, but I’m going to put an end to this real-life relationship right now. I’ve made up my mind. As soon as I’m sure Mom can get along all right without me, I’ll be leaving for New York.”

  Thirteen

  Dave had no doubt Suzanne Aldarmann would manage just fine without her daughter. He was the one who couldn’t imagine life without Kayanne. Glancing at the nearly finished manuscript that he’d deposited on the kitchen table when he’d first arrived, he cursed it under his breath as he closed the front door of the trailer behind himself.

  What a mess he’d made of things.

  An eternal optimist, he still held out hope that Kayanne would relent and read the remainder of his book; the best-case scenario being that she would see how Spice’s amazing transformation over the course of the novel mirrored his perception of her. And see how much he loved her through prose that truly elevated this book to another level.

  She would be moved to give him another chance.

  Aside from hoping that this book held the key to repairing their relationship, Kayanne’s opinion mattered to him. More than she knew. Though she had a tendency to put herself down for her lack of formal education, Dave valued her judgment as much if not more than the opinions of his colleagues. For one thing, she was brutally honest. And intuitive. Despite popular opinion, one didn’t reach the top of the fashion industry by being a bubble head. The few times he’d asked her for help either in plotting or with something more personal, her insight had proven invaluable. It hurt him deeply to hear her refer to herself as his “trailer-park muse.”

  Of course, Dave knew he could sugarcoat the truth all he wanted, but it wouldn’t change the fact that he had used her. Shamelessly.

  Never mind that it had been innocent at the start. Writers draw their inspiration from any number of incidents and people who spark their imagination. Life in all its complexities is fair game to them. The point where Dave had crossed the line was in failing to talk to Kayanne about the liberties he’d taken with her life when she’d moved from being a fictional character to his lover.

  Furthermore, while it was true that he hadn’t portrayed her in the most flattering light after their first contentious meeting, from that moment on she had taken over his life as well as his book. And both were better for it. She breathed fresh air into prose and a life too laden with concerns about what other people thought—Dave’s parents included.

  It would be a lie to say that he hadn’t considered the possibility that they might look down their noses at Kayanne. Then again, he may have misjudged them—just as he had her. For all the emphasis they placed on status, John and Eula Evans’s marriage was based on mutual respect. It was a respect they’d extended to their only son as well. As much as they hated seeing him “waste” his talents frittering away his expensive education only to move as far away as he could from the family business, they ultimately supported his decision to become whatever he wanted to be. In addition, they offered him a safety net. One that he’d been less than gracious in accepting.

  The more Dave thought about it, the more he wondered if Kayanne might not fit into his family better than he himself did. She certainly knew how to appreciate what was missing in her own life: the stability of a two-parent family and a love that wasn’t based on lies. It was the kind of life he wanted.

  And the kind of life Kayanne deserved.

  Dave saw the fact that she’d turned down his proposal of marriage as simply another obstacle to overcome, not a reason to give up hope altogether. Time had amazing healing properties and he prided himself on being a patient man. He went home to wait for Kayanne to read the chapters that he’d left for her and fall in love with them. And with him all over again.<
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  All that was missing was the last couple of chapters.

  And a ring.

  A great, big, beautiful diamond that proclaimed to the whole world that this amazing woman was his till the end of time. Wanting to shout the news from the rooftops, Dave started by placing a very important, belated long-distance call.

  “Mom,” he said when she picked up the receiver, “I’ve met someone….”

  A day passed. Then another. Time moved as slowly as brackish water. When Kayanne failed to contact him after the third day, Dave began to worry. She wouldn’t take his phone calls. She returned unopened the letter over which he’d agonized. And one morning, he found his manuscript on his doorstep with no indication that she’d read a single word of it.

  As his deadline loomed, Dave threw himself into his work, hoping to use his angst as the necessary fuel to finish his book. He prayed that Kayanne would recognize her own wild perfection in the character that she’d spawned. She occupied his every thought and rendered him completely unable to function in any capacity. She was his obsession. Without her in his bed, he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t eat. And he damned sure couldn’t write.

  How much easier it was to write about love from a safe distance than feel it burn in his veins like a lethal injection. He could no more finish his book than he could plug the hole in his chest where his heart used to be. Loneliness filled every nook, cranny and corner of his life. Work lost all meaning for him.

  As did life.

  Not the type ever to consider suicide, Dave came to a better understanding of how a young boy like Pete Nargas could become so desperate as to actually pull the trigger on himself. Dave developed empathy for every lovesick, besotted character that he’d ever minimized before. In short, he joined the brotherhood of the brokenhearted and was forced to reevaluate his view of the frail human race.

  So it was that Rose found him sitting unshaven on his front porch considering a bottle of Jack Daniel’s whiskey at ten o’clock one morning. He could hear her tsk-tsking all the way up the sidewalk. And he didn’t score any gentleman points by jumping up to help her to her seat, either. She looked around in displeasure at his once-tidy workplace.

  “You’re looking well,” he said, clearing off a place for her.

  She really did. There was something different about her. She looked less dowdy. Younger. A paisley silk scarf held artfully with a dragonfly brooch accentuated a new spring-green jacket. And she had artfully applied makeup to a face that wore a more determined look than Dave had ever seen before.

  “Wish I could say the same for you,” Rose told him, not bothering with social pleasantries. “You’re a mess.”

  She shook her head in disgust and sniffed as if smelling something particularly distasteful. Like a rat foraging in its own filth.

  “Nice to see you again, too.”

  The sarcasm was lost on her. “No wonder Kayanne left you. I would’ve, too,” Rose pointed out, making it apparent that she wasn’t in the market for a drunken boyfriend. Clearly she had all her wits about her today.

  Being rejected by an octogenarian didn’t improve Dave’s mood any. He responded in an equally candid manner. “If you don’t have anything constructive to say, I’d appreciate you letting me drink in peace.”

  “Fine. If you don’t want to know how Kayanne’s doing, I’ll just be on my way then,” Rose snapped, struggling to get to her feet.

  Dave’s pulse quickened at the sound of that lyrical name. Hope was resurrected in the rapid beating of his heart. Had she sent a message for him? Anything at all was better than the silence that presently held him imprisoned. He jumped to his feet and did his best to appease the old lady.

  “Just sit tight,” he told her, “I’ll go get the gingersnaps.”

  He’d deal later with the fact that the only cookies in his pantry were as hard as hockey pucks. Right now, he had to do whatever it took to keep Rose placated until he gleaned every sliver of information about Kayanne that he could. Rose harrumphed, settled into her chair and smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt.

  “Don’t bother,” she said. “I’m here for one thing, and it’s not your lousy cookies. It’s to get two people who I care very much about to admit to being fools. After fifty years of marriage to the same man, God rest his soul, I believe I’m qualified to offer a little unsolicited advice in matters of the heart.”

  Dave leaned forward anxiously. “I’ll take any advice you have to offer, Rose.”

  She nodded sagely. “The truth is I can’t stand seeing either one of you two kids let pride stand in the way of your happiness. Trust me. True love is a gift that isn’t offered often in this life so you’d better hold tight to it when it comes around.”

  Having been duly chastised, Dave proceeded to shoot a barrage of questions at her.

  “How is she? Has she said anything about me? Did she read anything I sent over? Has she changed her mind about leaving?”

  Shaking her head, Rose clucked in disapproval. “The poor thing’s terrible. Ever since she quit, all she does is mope around. Nobody wants to see her go back to New York. That girl’s the best thing to happen to the Manor since they opened their doors. She’s organized socials, gotten the ladies feeling pretty again, and done more for the old fellas’ libidos than Viagra. She’s even got a beau lined up for me. A nice fellow by the name of Joe Hansen.”

  Blushing, she stopped to shake a bony finger at Dave. “Then you had to go and ruin everything by breaking her heart.”

  A selfish part of him was glad to hear that Kayanne was having trouble functioning without him. That meant she still had feelings for him. Such encouraging news was overshadowed by the prospect of her leaving. For good.

  “I proposed to her,” he said in his defense.

  It wasn’t easy admitting that she’d flatly turned him down, but Dave didn’t much appreciate the entire senior citizenry holding him solely responsible for depriving them of their one bright spot of the day, either.

  “How?” Rose asked bluntly. “Did you have a big, old expensive ring in a black velvet box with you at the time? Did you plan out what you were going to say and pop the question in some romantic place and in some heart-felt way? Or did you just sort of casually mention that since you were already down on your knees begging forgiveness for being a jackass that you might as well propose in some offhanded way that any proud woman might interpret as an afterthought? Or worse yet as a way to ease your own conscience about hurting her so badly?”

  Adrift in his own pain, Dave hadn’t ever looked at it like that. The fact that Rose knew the details of his failed proposal told him that she was in Kayanne’s confidence. While that bothered him on some level, it also held out a glimmer of hope.

  “At least I’ve got her to stop talking about leaving until after the fashion show,” Rose continued. “That means you’ve got until the end of the month to pull your head out of your heinie and set things right. Make her see how much you really love her. And need her. And want her.”

  Visions of caveman techniques came to mind, but as Rose had already pointed out, a gentle touch was called for. Kayanne had been muscled by too many men in her life already, and none of them had been able to force her to do anything she didn’t want to.

  “Fashion show?”

  Rose opened her purse and drew out an invitation, which she handed him.

  “I’m counting on you to be there,” she said before stiffly getting to her feet and leaving him to figure the rest out for himself.

  There was a commotion in the dressing room that demanded Kayanne’s immediate attention. She was all too familiar with the nerves, squabbling and power struggles that went with putting on a fashion show. But the smiles, laughter and camaraderie that met her as she stepped into the crowded room was something altogether new. All around her, stunning women were having the time of their lives.

  The fact that they were senior citizens didn’t lessen the satisfaction Kayanne felt as she surveyed their glowing faces. If Rose
had taught her anything, it was that a woman was entitled to feel beautiful all the days of her life. The seed for this fashion extravaganza had been planted the first time Kayanne had accompanied Rose to a boutique and had found nothing appropriate in stock. It had occurred to her then that this was an age group the industry had all but forgotten. In a business that generated over a hundred and seventy billion dollars a year, it was virtually an untapped market.

  Her mistake had been in mentioning it to Rose, who had been pushing her ever since to undertake a new venture. Rose had promised to act as a silent partner and put up the capital to launch a new line designed especially for older women. Kayanne’s mother had wanted in as well. It seemed she hadn’t squandered all the money her daughter had sent her on missionaries and con men after all. She had a healthy portion stashed safely away making steady if not spectacular interest. Added to the local support were big-name backers who’d already expressed an interest in marketing Kayanne’s name and designs.

  “When have you ever been able to remain silent on anything?” Kayanne had asked Rose, a fact underscored when the older lady had wheedled from her the details of her break-up with Dave. Rose could no more remain quiet on that issue than on matters of politics or religion. Ever since meeting Joe Hansen, she had been feeling particularly generous and wanted everyone to share in the joy of her budding romance. She seemed to feel personally obligated to set things right between Kayanne and Dave.

  “You deserve to be happy,” Rose had told her.

  “What we deserve and what we get are often two different things,” had been Kayanne’s wry reply.

  Nonetheless, the idea of marketing her own brand of specialty clothing was intriguing. As was Rose’s suggestion that they hold a fashion show to launch the idea and get a grassroots feel for whether it was truly worth pursuing. There was something appealing about designing clothes for women who could never grow too old for the runway. Something about designing for women who’d seen enough of the world to value comfort and style equally. The only thing keeping Kayanne in town right now was her mother’s health, which was improving every day, and the fashion show that Rose had inveigled her into putting on.