by Nora Roberts
“Me, too.” He swung an arm around her shoulders to steer her through a clutch of teenagers. “Maybe we could rent it.”
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
“You don’t want to see Naked Ninjas from Nagasaki?” When she turned around to stare at him, Mitch held out both hands, palms up. “I made it up. I swear.”
“Hmmm.”
“Here’s one. Can I play this one?”
Mitch continued to grin at Hester as he dug out quarters.
The time passed so that Hester almost stopped hearing the noise from both machines and people. To placate Radley she played a few of the less intense games, ones that didn’t deal with world domination or universal destruction. But for the most part she watched him, pleased to see him enjoying what was for him a real night on the town.
They must look like a family, she thought as Radley and Mitch bent over the controls in a head-to-head duel. She wished she still believed in such things. But to her, families and lifetime commitments were as fanciful as the machines that spewed out color and light around them.
Day to day, Hester thought with a little sigh. That was all she could afford to believe in now. In a few hours she would tuck Radley in bed and go to her room alone. That was the only way to make sure they were both safe. She heard Mitch laugh and shout encouragement to Radley, and looked away. It was the only way, she told herself again. No matter how much she wanted or was tempted to believe again, she couldn’t risk it.
“How about the pinball machines?” Mitch suggested.
“They’re okay.” Though they rang with wild colors and lights, Radley didn’t find them terribly exciting. “Mom likes them though.”
“Are you any good?”
Hester pushed aside her uneasy thoughts. “Not bad.”
“Care to go one-on-one?” He jingled the quarters in his pockets.
Though she’d never considered herself highly competitive, she was swayed by his smug look. “All right.”
She’d always had a touch for pinball, a light enough, quick enough touch to have beaten her brother nine times out of ten. Though these machines were electronic and more sophisticated than the ones she’d played in her youth, she didn’t doubt she could make a good showing.
“I could give you a handicap,” Mitch suggested as he pushed coins into the slot.
“Funny, I was just going to say the same thing to you.” With a smile, Hester took the controls.
It had something to do with black magic and white knights. Hester tuned out the sounds and concentrated on keeping the ball in play. Her timing was sharp. Mitch stood behind her with his hands tucked in his back pockets and nodded as she sent the ball spinning.
He liked the way she leaned into the machine, her lips slightly parted, her eyes narrowed and alert. Now and then she would catch her tongue between her teeth and push her body forward as if to follow the ball on its quick, erratic course.
The little silver ball rammed into rubber, sending bells ringing and lights flashing. By the time her first ball dropped, she’d already racked up an impressive score.
“Not bad for an amateur,” Mitch commented with a wink at Radley.
“I’m just warming up.” With a smile, she stepped back.
Radley watched the progress of the ball as Mitch took control. But he had to stand on his toes to get the full effect. It was pretty neat when the ball got hung up in the top of the machine where the bumpers sent it vibrating back and forth in a blur. He glanced behind him at the rows of other machines and wished he’ d thought to ask for another quarter before they’d started to play. But if he couldn’t play, he could watch. He edged away to get a closer look at a nearby game.
“Looks like I’m ahead by a hundred,” Mitch said as he stepped aside for Hester.
“I didn’t want to blow you away with the first ball. It seemed rude.” She pulled back the plunger and let the ball rip.
This time she had the feel and the rhythm down pat. She didn’t let the ball rest as she set it right, then left, then up the middle where it streaked through a tunnel and crashed into a lighted dragon. It took her back to her childhood, when her wants had been simple and her dreams still gilt edged. As the machine rocked with noise, she laughed and threw herself into the competition.
Her score flashed higher and higher with enough fanfare to draw a small crowd. Before her second ball dropped, people were choosing up sides.
Mitch took position. Unlike Hester, he didn’t block out the sounds and lights, but used them to pump the adrenaline. He nearly lost the ball, causing indrawn breaths behind him, but caught it on the tip of his flipper to shoot it hard into a corner. This time he finished fifty points behind her.
The third and final turn brought more people. Hester thought she heard someone placing bets before she tuned them out and put all her concentration on the ball and her timing. She was nearly exhausted before she backed away again.
“You’re going to need a miracle, Mitch.”
“Don’t get cocky.” He flicked his wrists like a concert pianist and earned a few hoots and cheers from the crowd.
Hester had to admit as she watched his technique that he played brilliantly. He took chances that could have cost him his last ball, but turned them into triumph. He stood spread-legged and relaxed, but she saw in his eyes that kind of deep concentration that she’d come to expect from him but had yet to become used to. His hair fell over his forehead, as careless as he was. There was a slight smile on his face that struck her as both pleased and reckless.
She found herself watching him rather than the ball as she toyed with the little diamond heart she’d worn over a plain black turtleneck.
This was the kind of man women dreamed about and made heroes of. This was the kind of man a woman could come to lean upon if she wasn’t careful. With a man like him, a woman could have years of laughter. The defenses around her heart weakened a bit with her sigh.
The ball was lost in the dragon’s cave with a series of roars.
“She got you by ten points,” someone in the crowd pointed out. “Ten points, buddy.”
“Got yourself a free game,” someone else said, giving Hester a friendly slap on the back.
Mitch shook his head as he wiped his hands on the thighs of his jeans. “About that handicap—” he began.
“Too late.” Ridiculously pleased with herself, Hester hooked her thumbs in her belt loops and studied her score. “Superior reflexes. It’s all in the wrist.”
“How about a rematch?”
“I don’t want to humiliate you again.” She turned, intending to offer Radley the free game. “Rad, why don’t you . . . Rad?” She nudged her way through the few lingering onlookers. “Radley?” A little splinter of panic shot straight up her spine. “He’s not here.”
“He was here a minute ago.” Mitch put a hand on her arm and scanned what he could see of the room.
“I wasn’t paying any attention.” She brought a hand up to her throat, where the fear had already lodged, and began to walk quickly. “I know better than to take my eyes off him in a place like this.”
“Stop.” He kept his voice calm, but her fear had already transferred itself to him. He knew how easy it was to whisk one small boy away in a crowd. You couldn’t pour your milk in the morning without being aware of it. “He’s just wandering around the machines. We’ll find him. I’ll go around this way; you go down here.”
She nodded and spun away without a word. They were six or seven deep at some of the machines. Hester stopped at each one, searching for a small blond boy in a blue sweater. She called for him over the noise and clatter of machines.
When she passed the big glass doors and looked outside to the lights and crowded sidewalks of Times Square, her heart turned over in her breast. He hadn’t gone outside, she told herself. Radley would never do something so expressly forbidden. Unless someone had taken him, or . . .
Gripping her hands together tightly, she turned away. She wouldn’t think like that. But the r
oom was so big, filled with so many people, all strangers. And the noise, the noise was more deafening than she’d remembered. How could she have heard him if he’d called out for her?
She started down the next row, calling. Once she heard a young boy laugh and spun around. But it wasn’t Radley. She’d covered half the room, and ten minutes were gone, when she thought she would have to call the police. She quickened her pace and tried to look everywhere at once as she went from row to row.
There was so much noise, and the lights were so bright. Maybe she should double back—she might have missed him. Maybe he was waiting for her now by that damn pinball machine, wondering where she’d gone. He might be afraid. He could be calling for her. He could be . . .
Then she saw him, hoisted in Mitch’s arms. Hester shoved two people aside as she ran for them. “Radley!” She threw her arms around both of them and buried her face in his hair.
“He’d gone over to watch someone play,” Mitch began as he stroked a hand up and down her back. “He ran into someone he knew from school.”
“It was Ricky Nesbit, Mom. He was with his big brother, and they lent me a quarter. We went to play a game. I didn’t know it was so far away.”
“Radley.” She struggled with the tears and kept her voice firm. “You know the rules about staying with me. This is a big place with a lot of people. I have to be able to trust you not to wander away.”
“I didn’t mean to. It was just that Ricky said it would just take a minute. I was coming right back.”
“Rules have reasons, Radley, and we’ve been through them.”
“But, Mom—”
“Rad.” Mitch shifted the boy in his arms. “You scared your mother and me.”
“I’m sorry,” His eyes clouded up. “I didn’t mean to make you scared.”
“Don’t do it again.” Her voice softened as she kissed his cheek. “Next time it’s solitary confinement. You’re all I’ve got, Rad.” She hugged him again. Her eyes were closed so that she didn’t see the change in Mitch’s expression. “I can’t let anything happen to you.”
“I won’t do it again.”
All she had, Mitch thought as he set the boy down. Was she still so stubborn that she couldn’t admit, even to herself, that she had someone else now too? He jammed his hands into his pockets and tried to force back both anger and hurt. She was going to have to make room in her life soon, very soon, or he’d damn well make it for her.
Chapter 11
He wasn’t sure if he was doing more harm than good by staying out of Hester’s way for a few days, but Mitch needed time himself. It wasn’t his style to dissect and analyze, but to feel and act. However, he’d never felt quite this strongly before or acted quite so rashly.
When possible, he buried himself in work and in the fantasies he could control. When it wasn’t, he stayed alone in his rooms, with old movies flickering on the television or music blaring through the stereo. He continued to work on the screenplay he didn’t know if he could write, in the hope that the challenge of it would stop him from marching two floors up and demanding that Hester Wallace come to her senses.
She wanted him, yet she didn’t want him. She opened to him, yet kept the most precious part of her closed. She trusted him, yet didn’t believe in him enough to share her life with him.
You’re all I’ve got, Rad. And all she wanted? Mitch was forced to ask himself the question. How could such a bright, giving woman base the rest of her life on a mistake she’d made over ten years before?
The helplessness of it infuriated him. Even when he’d hit bottom in New Orleans, he hadn’t been helpless. He’d faced his limitations, accepted them, and had channeled his talents differently. Had the time come for him to face and accept his limitations with Hester?
He spent hours thinking about it, considering compromises and then rejecting them. Could he do as she asked and leave things as they were? They would be lovers, with no promises between them and no talk of a future. They could have a relationship as long as there was no hint of permanency or bonds. No, he couldn’t do as she asked. Now that he had found the only woman he wanted in his life, he couldn’t accept her either part-time or partway.
It was something of a shock to discover he was such an advocate of marriage. He couldn’t say that he’d seen very many that had been made in heaven. His parents had been well suited—the same tastes, the same class, the same outlook—but he couldn’t remember ever witnessing any passion between them. Affection and loyalty, yes, and a united front against their son’s ambitions, but they lacked the spark and simmer that added excitement.
He asked himself if it was only passion he felt for Hester, but knew the answer already. Even as he sat alone, he could imagine them twenty years in the future, sitting on the porch swing she’d described. He could see them growing older together, filing away memories and traditions.
He wasn’t going to lose that. However long it took, however many walls he had to scale, he wasn’t going to lose that.
Mitch dragged a hand through his hair, then gathered up the boxes he needed to lug upstairs.
***
She was afraid he wasn’t coming. There had been some subtle change in Mitch since the night they’d gone to Times Square. He’d been strangely distant on the phone, and though she’d invited him up more than once, he’d always made an excuse.
She was losing him. Hester poured punch into paper cups and reminded herself that she’d known it was only temporary. He had the right to live his own life, to go his own way. She could hardly expect him to tolerate the distance she felt she had to put between them or to understand the lack of time and attention she could give him because of Radley and her job. All she could hope was that he would remain a friend.
Oh, God, she missed him. She missed having him to talk to, to laugh with, even to lean on—though she could only allow herself to lean a little. Hester set the pitcher on the counter and took a deep breath. It couldn’t matter; she couldn’t let it matter now. There were ten excited and noisy boys in the other room. Her responsibility, she reminded herself. She couldn’t stand here listing her regrets when she had obligations.
As she carried the tray of drinks into the living room, two boys shot by her. Three more were wrestling on the floor, while the others shouted to be heard over the record player. Hester had already noted that one of Radley’s newest friends wore a silver earring and spoke knowledgeably about girls. She set the tray down and glanced quickly at the ceiling.
Give me a few more years of comic books and Erector sets. Please, I’m just not ready for the rest of it yet.
“Drink break,” she said out loud. “Michael, why don’t you let Ernie out of that headlock now and have some punch? Rad, set down the kitten. They get cranky if they’re handled too much.”
With reluctance, Radley set the little bundle of black-and-white fur in a padded basket. “He’s really neat. I like him the best.” He snatched a drink off the tray as several other hands reached out. “I really like my watch, too.” He held it out, pushing a button that sent it from time mode to the first in a series of miniature video games.
“Just make sure you don’t play with it when you should be paying attention in school.”
Several boys groaned and elbowed Radley. Hester had just about convinced them to settle down with one of Radley’s board games when the knock sounded at the door.
“I’ll get it!” Radley hopped up and raced for the door. He had one more birthday wish. When he opened the door, it came true. “Mitch! I knew you’d come. Mom said you’d probably gotten real busy, but I knew you’d come. I got a kitten. I named him Zark. Want to see?”
“As soon as I get rid of some of these boxes.” Even arms as well toned as his were beginning to feel the strain. Mitch set them on the sofa and turned, only to have Zark’s namesake shoved into his hands. The kitten purred and arched under a stroking finger. “Cute. We’ll have to take him down and introduce him to Taz.”
“Won’t Taz eat h
im?”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Mitch tucked the kitten under his arm and looked at Hester. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He needed a shave, his sweater had a hole in the seam, and he looked wonderful. “We were afraid you wouldn’t make it.”
“I said I’d be here.” Lazily he scratched between the kitten’s ears. “I keep my promises.”
“I got this watch, too.” Radley held up his wrist. “It tells the time and the date and stuff, then you can play Dive Bomb and Scrimmage.”
“Oh, yeah, Dive Bomb?” Mitch sat on the arm of the couch and watched Radley send the little dots spinning. “Never have to be bored on a long subway ride again, right?”
“Or at the dentist’s office. You want to play?”
“Later. I’m sorry I’m late. I got hung up in the store.”
“That’s okay. We didn’t have the cake yet ’cause I wanted to wait. It’s chocolate.”
“Great. Aren’t you going to ask for your present?”
“I’m not supposed to.” He sneaked a look at his mother, who was busy keeping some of his friends from wrestling again. “Did you