Now, she watched as he photographed the players doing layups—dribbling down the court, reaching high, and gently bouncing the ball off the backboard, into the basket. A couple of the taller players, simply jumped, placed the ball over the rim, and dropped it through.
“Must be in Company T,” Richard said as he turned his attention to action on the court.
“What? Who must be in T Company?”
“The player who dropped the ball through the hoop rather than shooting it. Cadets are assigned to company by height. Company T has the tallest cadets.”
“Oh.” Karen kept her eyes on Mark. Richard’s gaze seemed to follow hers.
“That’s Mark Stuart.” Richard pointed. “Good friend of mine. No idea what he’s up to out there. He’s a math professor at the college, a real wizard when it comes to numbers. When we were in middle school, he won five hundred dollars for proving some ‘unprovable theorem.’” He rolled his eyes.
“Hey, Mark,” Richard shouted, standing and waving his hand. Karen ducked her head, not sure why she didn’t want Mark to see her. She sighed in relief when Richard’s greeting failed to carry over the noise made by the crowd.
“Catch him later, maybe.” Richard sat down. “Does everything by the numbers, you know. Once gave me a formula that calculates the probability a girl will say yes when you want to…” Richard stopped speaking suddenly, the expression on his face that of a little boy who had almost said a bad word in front of his mother.
“Good to know,” Karen murmured as she fingered the ring hanging from her necklace. She was unwilling to place it on her finger because it struck her as rather juvenile for him to claim her with a class ring, but Richard had been insistent that she take it.
“Who said algebra would never come in handy?” He laughed at his self-perceived cleverness. “Terribly nice guy when his head isn’t buried in a book, though. Maybe we’ll run into him when he decides he can’t play ball and takes his seat.”
Karen wondered, as she sometimes did, why she was still dating Richard Bailey. The son of a wealthy land owner in the northern part of the state, the family had briefly lived in Charleston when Richard was young before moving back to his father’s home in the mountains. Now vice president of his family’s real estate development company, Richard managed their interests along the coast.
On their first date—“The only one we’ll have,” Karen had sworn to Vicky the afternoon before—he had paid the fortune teller at the party to foresee that Karen would marry him before the first day of autumn, he’d extracted a goodnight kiss, and he had procured her agreement to go to dinner the next weekend. Flowers arrived on Monday morning. Telephone calls began on Tuesday. A limousine awaited when he walked her downstairs for their dinner date.
“Go dogs!” Richard’s scream made her jump back to reality. She had been intent on watching Mark, on his knees at midcourt, camera in hand, as the referee put the ball in play, tossing it into the air between a player from each team, each of whom tried to tap it to a teammate.
“Watch him go. Two points.” Richard hugged her as number twenty-two dashed the length of the court, caught a pass, and stuffed the ball in the basket. “All-American for sure,” he exclaimed.
During the play, Karen’s eyes had been locked on Mark. She could imagine his camera set to take multiple frames, the shutter clicking like an automatic rifle as it recorded the action. The smile on Mark’s face as the ball swished through the basket and bounced across the court told her he’d captured the entire play.
As the cadets pulled ahead, although he continued to shoot the game, Mark began to focus his camera on other subjects, as well. He photographed the players on the bench, obviously trying to capture the expressions on their faces as one of their own scored, or when the other team stole the ball. He aimed his camera at the cheerleaders, the referees discussing a call, and the people in the stands. Once, Karen thought his camera had targeted her, and she ducked her head, not certain why she did so.
At halftime, she and Richard strolled through the fieldhouse as they sipped Cokes. Richard added a bit of bourbon to his, but Karen refused his offer.
“Come on, Karen, loosen up. Take a little.” He’d moved his flask toward her cup. “A little Jack Daniels and we’ll have a whale of a good time after the game.” His eyes had sparkled. “That formula I told you about? Mark Stuart’s formula? Your score rises with each sip.” He tipped the flask.
“And he gave you that formula in middle school?” she asked as she moved her cup, allowing the whiskey to dribble onto the floor. “Right.”
“Hey, that’s good stuff. It goes in your mouth, not on the floor.” Richard smirked.
He told stories about his days as a cadet, recounting pranks he’d played on his classmates, how he’d scuffed the company commander’s shoes the night before an inspection, his successful attempt to lift his roommate’s history notes the evening prior to their midterm exam, and the occasion during his senior year when a female cadet had taken his roommate’s place while the boy was on leave.
“Shouldn’t have told you about that last one, I guess.” Richard chuckled. “No need to worry. I’m a one-woman man now.” His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her body against his. As he leaned in for a kiss, Mark walked around the corner. His camera hung from a strap over his shoulder and he was talking with a woman who carried two cameras, one with a lens that seemed to Karen to be at least a foot long.
“See you later, Mark.” The woman waved as she stepped toward one of the outside doors.
Richard’s head snapped up. He suddenly released Karen, and she grabbed at his arm to keep from falling. Richard chuckled.
“One would think you were the one taking a nip of Jack.”
He waved his arm above his head. “Mark, Mark Stuart,” Richard called. “Hey, Mark.” He pulled Karen toward him.
Mark looked up and frowned, not seeming to recognize him.
“Richard Bailey. Seventh grade, Porter Academy. Long time no see.”
“Okay…” Mark said tentatively, his eyes suddenly dilating in recognition. “Of course, Richard. How are you? I didn’t recognize you. Are you back in Charleston or just…” He seemed to notice Karen and stopped midsentence, perhaps assuming that Richard must be living in the city, if he was with her.
“Moved to Greenville, my old man’s home town, you know. Came back for college. I’ve been working on the coast for about a year now. Wonderful decision.” He looked at Karen. “This is Karen Wingate. Karen, Mark…”
“Mark and I know each other, Richard. We…we were in high school together.”
“That so? Well, it is certainly a small world…What’s with the camera, Mark? Heard you were a math teacher. Remember old lady McCubin’s algebra class?”
Mark nodded. “I do remember Ms. McCubin. She passed away early this year.”
“Oh, uh, sorry to hear that….What’s with the camera?” he repeated.
“A friend at the newspaper came down with a cold and he gave me press credentials tonight.”
“Hard to believe that a math prof needs to moonlight as a shutterbug. Not enough budding Einsteins showing up for class?” Richard good naturedly popped Mark’s arm.
Mark glanced at Karen and she rolled her eyes.
“You don’t get rich teaching school.”
“Ought to come work for me. We have math guys on the staff, business projections, that sort of thing. Double your salary…”
Mark smiled. “I’m actually more interested in seeing my name under the photographs on tomorrow’s sports page than I am in being paid.”
“Oh, right. Right. Still…”
Someone called his name, and Richard’s head spun around. “Excuse me for just a minute. I need to talk to this guy. Business, you know.”
Without waiting for a reply, Richard disappeared into the crowd.
“Let’s move over here.” Mark led Karen to the side, out of the flow of traffic. “How have you been?” he asked.
&n
bsp; “I’ve been fine. You?”
“Fine…Fine.”
They stood without talking for several moments. Mark watched the people milling around the hallway as if he was searching for something to photograph.
“Have you known Richard long?”
Karen shook her head. “Just a couple of months.”
Mark nodded. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but seemed to change his mind.
“What?”
“Nothing. Not any of my business.”
“What?” she said again as she looked into his eyes and waited.
“I’m just surprised to see you together. I’ll admit I barely remember Richard, but somehow…I can’t imagine the two of you…”
“You’re right. It isn’t your business,” Karen snapped.
Mark shrugged. “So I said.”
Karen crossed her arms. “He’s just a friend.”
“All right.” Mark squinted, his eyes focused on Karen’s necklace. “What’s this?” He pointed. “Is that a military college class ring?”
Karen placed her hand over the gold ring that hung from a seamless rope chain. She could feel herself blushing.
“Yes…It’s Richard’s.”
“You’re going steady?” Mark laughed.
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not in high school, Mark.”
“I’m sorry. Really…” Mark held up both hands, as if to ward off a blow. He looked as if he wanted to crawl into a hole.
She looked down at the ring. “Pretty childish, huh?” She sighed. “Richard doesn’t believe in taking things slowly, but I refused an engagement ring, so….” She shrugged.
“An engagement ring? You’ve known him how long?” Mark’s eyes were wide in disbelief.
“Two…well, three months.”
“Three months from meeting him to becoming…pinned?” It would have sounded foolish, so nineteen fifties if Mark had not seemed so serious.
“You’re in love?” His face registered disbelief.
Suddenly his eyes dilated.
“That’s it then. You want to get married, don’t you…and it doesn’t matter who he is.”
“How dare you?” Karen growled. She didn’t want to hear this. “Richard and I—”
“You were a part of our mothers’ conspiracy.” Mark stared at her, his mouth open, his eyes wide, amazement written on his face. “Three dates, engagement, marriage in the spring? All three of you expected me to fall in line, but I—”
“If I simply wanted a husband, do you really think you would have been at the top of my list? Sight unseen?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What an egotistical jackass. Why, I can easily name ten men who would outrank you.”
How dare he be so unfair? She had not conspired to trap him into marriage.
He was undeterred. “I certainly called it wrong, didn’t I? I thought you wanted to fall in love, but you just wanted a husband, and I was the chosen one.” He shook his head. “Maybe if you’d paid me more attention…So much makes sense now.”
He had no right to question her motives.
“You can tell yourself that if it makes you feel better,” Karen snarled, “but you don’t need to be nasty.”
Her arm tensed. A slap across his face might make him be quiet, and she was certain it would make her feel good.
A good corporate wife…
Fine, Mother, I’ll behave.
Karen took a deep breath and clenched her fist, regaining control.
“So, Karen, let me get this straight. You’re telling me—”
“I’m telling you how disappointed I am, Mark.” She held her emotions in check. “You lost. Richard won. I’d not expected you to be a sore loser.” She tipped her head back so that she could look down at him. “I’d thought better of you than that.”
Mark seemed taken aback. After a moment, he opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of a buzzer warned that the game was about to resume.
Just then Richard reappeared, reaching for Karen’s hand. “Got to go. Game is about to start.” He began to stride toward the entrance to the arena, Karen struggling to keep up.
“Good to see you, Mark,” Richard called over his shoulder. “Give me a call about that job.”
***
“Good to see you,” Mark called back as Richard pulled Karen through the crowd, all hurrying to return to their seats.
“Informative at any rate,” he said to himself.
It did make sense .Karen had shared his mother’s version of a “marriage of convenience,” and, as he had just told her, she had assumed he would “fall into line.” As a result, he should have understood she could dance with whomever she chose at the Mountain Grill as long as he was the one to take her home. It was why she had expressed surprise that he had not been dancing with other women.
Even worse, he supposed, was that she expected their marriage to work in the same fashion. “Why didn’t I see it?” he mumbled.
As Karen and Richard reached the entrance to the arena, their path was blocked by the crowd and she glanced back. Her expression might have been one of “Help me,” or it could have been anger at him for laughing at her. More likely, it reflected her embarrassment that he had finally understood the plan she and their mothers had hatched.
The crowd parted, Richard and Karen disappeared, and Mark walked slowly back to the game. He had all of the shots he had planned. He would stick around, though, “just in case.” The cadets were so far ahead it would take a miracle for the visiting team to make a comeback, but since he was working for the newspaper, he couldn’t risk missing a big play.
Never leave ’til the final buzzer sounds.
He recalled the admonition of his instructor in a sports photography workshop.
He found a seat on the row nearest the court, but his mind was no longer on the game. He had thought she was looking for love, and he’d admired her for holding out for what she wanted, even if it was not him.
But Karen had lied to him.
She had simply been looking for marriage, marriage to a man with money. She was willing to settle, and, since he had resisted, she would settle for someone else.
The roar from the crowd snapped him back to the game. Number twenty-two had stolen the ball from an opposing player and charged down the court at full speed, the other player close behind. As he neared the basket, he ceased to dribble, took two steps, and went up for the score. The other player, apparently unable to stop, crashed into him, knocking him to the floor. He hit hard and lay on the court, writhing in pain, holding his ankle.
Mark raised his camera just in time.
Breakfast
On Monday morning, Mark shivered as he walked along King Street toward his usual coffee shop. The thermometer on his porch had hovered near freezing, and the wind off the river pushed him along, making him feel even colder. He gasped as he pushed open the restaurant’s door and the warm air engulfed him. He closed his eyes, allowing the heat to sink in.
He had arrived earlier than he usually did, finding the restaurant packed, all the seats taken except one at a table for two. The woman at the table sat with her back to him. Her auburn hair had been braided and coiled on top of her head. Mark’s heart skipped, and he hesitated, imagining her to be Lucia.
He walked uncertainly across the room, greeting the waitress, and stopping near the woman. “Excuse me. Would you mind if I shared your table?”
He almost jumped when Karen turned and glared at him. Then she glanced around the room, sighed. “Certainly. It is crowded this morning, and I’m willing to act like an adult. Sit.” Her voice was as cold as the air outside.
“Never mind. I’m sorry.” Mark turned to go.
“No, Mark, wait.” Karen held up her hand to stop him. “I’m the one that’s sorry. Sit with me.”
Mark looked at her questioningly.
“Really. Sit.”
He pulled out the chair and perched on the edge, not quite ready to settle in.
The waitres
s brought his coffee and his eyes roamed around the table.
“Is there any cream?” he asked, finally spotting the small white pitcher set near the sugar dish. “I used to drink it black. I learned to add cream to my tea when I studied in England. A…friend of mine always made fun of me when I drank tea straight, then I tried it in coffee. You’re really supposed to add the cream to the cup first…Terrible weather this morning.” He sipped the coffee and then held the warm cup between his hands, finally allowing himself to relax a little, at least physically. “I’m always surprised how cold it can be when the wind blows from the river.”
Mark knew he was rambling.
Karen nodded. “I almost fell over as I left my apartment. After walking half a block I had to go back for a hat and gloves.”
Mark sighed. “Much better now.” He slipped off his overcoat and draped it across the back of his chair.
The waitress brought the sausage biscuit Mark always ordered for breakfast.
“I never see you here in the morning.” He bit into his biscuit. “Of course, I generally arrive later, but I was awake and the cupboard was bare and…uh…so here I am…You’re not meeting Richard for breakfast?”
Karen shook her head. “He’s not in town. Doing some big deal in Savannah. Will be worth millions, he says.” She rolled her eyes. “He always says that.”
Mark looked through the front window. His cupboard was not completely bare and he wished he’d eaten a bowl of Corn Flakes at home. When he turned back to Karen, she was staring at him.
“You’ve changed your hair,” he said. “I didn’t recognize you. It looks nice.”
“Thank you.”
Mark studied the plaid tablecloth as he searched for something else to say.
“I was not expecting to see you at the game on Saturday. Enjoy it?”
“The game? Better than I had expected. Basketball has so much more action than does football, and baseball certainly can’t compare.” She picked up her cup of hot chocolate and sipped, looking away, seeming to inspect a poster hanging on the wall.
Just Three Dates Page 18