by Tim Green
By the time they got to The Wild Duck it was dark, and the windshield was splattered with bugs. The Wild Duck was an old inn with the finest food in the entire Adirondack Park. It had been built at the turn of the century out of native stone and great pine beams. The atmosphere was extremely elegant, but the dress was casual because of the restaurant's resort location. Clay's and Katie's jeans and T-shirts weren't too unseemly, and since it was not the weekend, they were able to get a table overlooking the moonlit lake without reservations.
"Katie," Clay said after they had gotten their menus, "order anything you want, this is a celebration."
With that, he took a gold credit card out of his wallet. "All I have to do is put my John Hancock on that contract Monday, and I got myself a check for a two-million-dollar signing bonus. I had Bill get me this card a few weeks ago, and tonight we're going to break it in.
"Waiter," Clay said as he signaled the man, "a bottle of Dom Perignon, your best year. We're celebrating tonight and I want the best of everything for this beautiful lady."
Katie blushed.
"You know what else I'm going to do, Kate?" he said.
"What, sweetheart, what is my beautiful beau going to do?" she said, gazing across the candlelight.
"I'm being serious," he said.
"So am I, honey," she said, reaching for his hand. "What are you going to do?"
"Remember that old white Victorian house on Loon Lake that we looked at last week with the real estate lady?"
Kate nodded.
"I'm going to take you there tomorrow, and if we like it as much as we did, I'm going to buy it."
"Really, Clay? It's beautifbl."
"You're beautiful," he said and kissed her hand.
"I love you," she said in a low, husky voice.
"I love you too, Katie."
They sat looking at each other for a few moments before Clay spoke again.
"That house is the kind of place we can have forever," he said. "When I'm done playing football, we could even live there and have a family. Can you picture it? On that lake, in that beautiful house?"
"It's like a dream," she said.
"It's my dream," he said.
"I hope it comes true . . ."
The ride to Raquette Lake was about a half hour, but it had begun to rain and the dark night made it seem twice as long. As they neared the lake, it seemed like the lightning was closing in on them. The rain came down harder. Clay could hear the threatening rumble of the dark skies as they pulled up in front of the boat slip at the marina. As the two of them worked together to untie the boat and rig the canvas covering that would keep them dry as they crossed the lake, the barnlike boat slip flashed alive with a blinding white light. A thundering crash exploded.
"Holy shit!" Clay said. "That sounded like it hit the roof!"
Another flash of lightning lit the night sky, this time farther down the lake.
"Clay," Katie said, her voice raised above the downpour, "we shouldn't go over in this."
"What are we going to do, spend the night in here?"
"Maybe we should go back to the inn and stay there."
A mountain lake at high elevation was like an enormous lightning rod, and Katie was not enamored with the idea of driving a boat through the middle of it. Clay, however, was feeling good from the meal and the champagne. The bed across the lake was only a five minute boat ride, and he knew the lake well, even in the dark. He felt confident that God had not brought him this far in his life only to knock him off with a bolt of lightning.
"Get in, Kate," he said decisively, "we'll be there in five minutes."
She didn't argue knowing there was no point. They would only fight and end up going over anyway. "This is crazy," she said, then got on board.
Clay fired up the engine, backing the boat out into the rain. He and Katie sat tucked up under the dry covering with their bags at their feet. The sky flashed alive and thunder split the night, echoing through the mountains. Clay saw the bolt clearly as it struck some trees less than a thousand feet away. The vibration shook his very bones. The flash lit up the lake as bright as day, but only for an instant. It became black again, and Clay spun the boat around quickly, heading away from the bare yellow bulbs that illuminated the marina. He peered through the windshield, straining for some sight of the flashing red and green buoys which marked a channel he would use to make his way out into the lake.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the lake and gave Clay his bearings. The water was rough, and fought the boat's progress. Then another bolt hit the water so close that Katie let out an involuntary scream. The hair on the back of Clay's neck jumped up, cold and prickly. He was quickly beginning to doubt his call, and found himself wishing they were back in his truck, heading for the inn. He shouldn't have tempted fate. He had gotten to where he was in life by making the right calls. To be out on the water in a storm like this was madness. But he found the flashing red light of the marker buoy, and in a panic he opened the boat's throttle as far as it would go. The windshield wiper thumped from side to side in a futile attempt to clear the glass of the spattering rain. More lightning flashed as they entered the channel, and Clay was forced to slow down to navigate more precisely. The sky flashed continuously now, like a waning fluorescent bulb as the lightning danced around them.
When he hit open water, he raced toward the opposite shore. Another bolt hit the water, this time not as close, but its exploding crack and reverberation sent another wave of fear down Clay's spine. He ducked his head instinctively and prepared for the next bolt, which he fully expected to hit him squarely on the head. The lake and mountains seemed possessed by unfriendly demons intent on his destruction. When he finally reached the Becker dock, he quickly lashed down the boat as Katie scurried for the front door. Clay didn't relax until he was under the porch roof, and even there the violence of the storm unsettled him. The great trees bowed and swayed to the awful gusts of wind and rain in a powerful display of nature's destructive capability.
After drying themselves off, Clay and Katie went right to bed, making the most of having the house to themselves. Her parents wouldn't be up until Friday night or early Saturday morning. They slept in Katie's bedroom, where Clay wasn't permitted when her mom was there. Her window looked out on the lake, and a smell of fresh, damp pine permeated the room. The old brass bed rose high off the plank floor. As Kate faded to sleep on his shoulder, Clay watched and listened as the storm raged against mountain and lake.
By the time Clay awoke, sunlight already filled the room. He kissed Katie until she too awoke.
"Clay," she said sleepily, "I was sleeping."
"I know, but it's time to get up."
Katie laughed quietly. "You're awake, so it's time for me to get up."
Clay grinned. "You know that's the way it is."
"But when I wake up for classes, it's never time for you to get up," she said, rolling in the soft cotton sheets.
"But when I wake up, I'm hungry," he replied.
"Just for this, I'm making you take me to Monte's for breakfast."
"Just what I had in mind," he said. "And after that we'll go look at that house."
"Don't you think we'll need an appointment?"
"When that broker hears that we're going to buy a six-hundred-thousand-dollar home, she'll make an appointment for us, real fast."
"Clay, how are you!" said the old man working the counter at Monte's, his face beaming as he reached over to shake hands. "Not like you to be here on a Friday morning."
"Well, Monte," said Clay, "Kate and I are celebrating my contract. It's all settled and I'm going down to Birmingham to sign it on Monday."
"Going down south, are you? Well, a good-looking boy like you ough- ta forget about football, marry that pretty girl you got there, and go to--"
"Hollywood. I know, Monte, but no one in Hollywood is offering me a big contract."
"Well, don't get yourself hurt," Monte said, turning his back and cracking some eggs onto
his griddle. "The usual for you, Clay," Monte said, not as a question.
Clay nodded even though Monte couldn't see him.
"What about you, Katie?"
"I'll have a poached egg and some dry toast, Monte."
Clay watched Monte deftly prepare their food. When breakfast was well under way, he placed two steaming mugs of hot coffee in front of them. As he turned back toward his stove, Clay said to him, "Going to buy a house today, Monte."
Monte turned, his eyebrows raised appreciatively. "Well, that's the smartest move you could make. Up here, you mean?"
"Yes," Clay said. "There's a big old Victorian over on Loon Lake. Kate and I looked at it last week, and if we like it again today, I'm buying it."
"Just like that. I'll be damned," Monte said, more to himself than to Clay and Katie. "Well, you belong up here, so it's only right that you have a place to call your own."
As they finished their food, a long white BMW pulled up in front of Monte's. Elaine Gull got out, and her bleached hair shone like wheat. She was dressed smartly and wore large dark Porsche sun glasses. Two grubby middle-aged men at the end of the counter stared dully at her as she came through the door. She was in her mid-thirties, and even Katie had to admit to herself that despite a certain cheapness she was a striking woman. She eyed Clay suspiciously from the corner of her eye and caught him gaping at Elaine Gull's tight skirt. She kicked his shin. Monte, on the other hand, neither looked up nor said a word to the woman, but grunted an acknowledgment as he washed some dishes in the sink.
"Katie, dear," said Elaine, kissing Katie on the cheek as if she had seen her more than once before in her life. "And Clay," she said, kissing him too, leaving a conspicuous splotch of red lipstick on his cheek. Tm so glad you called. Shall we?"
Even Elaine Gull's trashy white pumps couldn't detract from the dignity of West House, the name of the tall, gabled five-bedroom lake house that Clay now knew he had to have. He and Katie had always talked about having four kids, and they would all fit nicely into this house. He kept this thought to himself, though, not wanting to get Katie started on the subject of children. The thought scared him a little, and he wondered if maybe this house was something he should put off until Katie was done with school.
The two-acre property was bounded by towering old pines. Dark- green lawn chairs were placed in groups of two and three in various shady spots about the lawn. A plush grassy area lay cool in the shade between the house and the lake. Despite himself Clay envisioned the family, kids and all, playing touch football in the lawn and swimming together in the lake.
The house was old but obviously well maintained. Inside were two stone fireplaces on either end of the house, and the rooms, although not large, were cozy and trimmed with elaborate woodwork. The French doors in the master bedroom opened out onto a small terrace, and in the master bath was an oversized claw-foot tub.
"Think we can both fit?" Clay whispered to Katie.
Elaine pointed out the smallest bedroom and said slyly, "Really, this room is ideal for a nursery."
Katie looked at Clay with wistful eyes that made him vacillate back to uncertainty.
Almost all the homes on Loon Lake were elegant and expensive. It was the Adirondack summer retreat for the well-to-do. On either side of West House was a banker from New York City and a doctor from Albany. The banker, Elaine told Clay, flew in almost every weekend during the summer in a seaplane that landed on the lake and taxied right to his dock. The doctor drove his Mercedes. Clay had to admit to himself that he liked the idea of living among successful and accomplished people like that.
"The house has even been winterized," Elaine told them, "so if you ever decided to come up here in the winter to snowmobile or ski, you could. All the furniture comes with it."
"It must be kind of nice up here in the winter," Clay said. "I'm sure it's desolate, but it must be pretty. I can imagine the mountains covered with snow and the wind blowing through these pines."
"Well, it is nice in a way," Elaine said. "Of course, my husband, Thomas, and I winter in Palm Beach."
"Of course," Katie said.
Clay felt impulsive. His wish not to amplify Katie's expectations was outweighed by his desire to own a beautiful home in a place that he truly loved. He had Elaine bring them back to her office to draw up a purchase offer, which he signed with the understanding that Elaine wouldn't submit it to the sellers until he sent her a check for deposit on Monday. Elaine dropped them off at their boat and waved as they pushed off from Monte's dock.
"You really did it," Kate said to him as they cruised slowly across the lake back to her house. Her eyes were wide. She looked dumbstruck. "I mean, I knew that you would, that you could now, but it really seemed incredible to me to see you sign that paper for six hundred thousand dollars."
Clay was proud of her awe. "That's the way it'll be now, Kate," he said. "I've got some serious cash. But it is strange. A year ago Elaine Gull would have laughed at me if I said I wanted to look at house like that."
"But to buy a house that expensive so--so quickly, Clay."
"Why not? You heard what Monte said, I belong up here, and he's right. You know that these mountains are where I'm happiest, where I'm really at peace and where I can really relax. The rest of the time I'm always uptight about workouts, or football, or school. But up here I'm just me. I need a place like this, a quiet place away from everything."
She smiled at him, thinking about the two of them living in such a nice and peaceful home. Clay smiled back, thinking of the wonderful time they were having together, the wonderful times to come. Monday would begin a new life for him, and although he would miss the old one, he knew he would enjoy what was ahead. Besides, he could always come back.
After some difficult good-byes, Clay finally boarded a plane for Atlanta on Monday morning. The flight was not only taking him to another city, it was taking him to a whole other life. Bill Clancy met him in Atlanta, and together they flew to Birmingham and signed Clay's mul- timillion-dollar contract in front of the Alabama media.
Later that night, Max Dresden, propped up on pillows, sat naked on his bed watching TV. Only his lower body was covered with the sheet. He watched as Clay ceremoniously signed his contract and shook hands with the team owner and Vance White. It made Max's stomach turn.
He always tried to catch the eleven o'clock news before going to bed, and it was news he wanted to see, not some wet rookie getting more money for signing a contract than he would ever make in his whole career. No one had ever given Max anything to sign a contract. He had to work, and slave, and practically beg just to get looked at by the pros. The TV piece on Blackwell put Max in a dark mood, and he slapped the naked bottom of the blond girl that lay sleeping facedown on his bed. She gave a yelp, which made him smile as he whispered gently, "Move over, please, you're not the only one sleeping here tonight."
The girl was young, and she knew better than to backtalk to him. She just stuck out her lower lip in a pout and slid quietly to the other side of the bed.
Chapter NINE
Although Max had started his workout before Clay entered the room, he did so many more exercises than anyone else that it wasn't too long before Clay caught up to him. Max looked up to find Clay standing silently, waiting for him to finish a set of behind-the-neck shoulder presses.
"Want me to push you on these?" Max asked innocently as he got up off the seat.
"Not yet," Clay said, "I've got three sets. You can push me on the last one, though. I'd appreciate it."
Of course, Max said to himself, dodging the real tough work, just like I thought. To Clay he said nothing, but simply moved on to another part of the room to continue his own workout.
A few minutes later, Max felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned in confusion to see Clay.
"Give me that push?" Clay asked politely.
"Sure," said Max with his wolfish grin, thinking to himself that he would teach this rookie what it was like to work in the NFL.
"How
many you going to do?" said Max as Clay positioned himself under the weight.
"Ten."
"Well, we'll just see if you can't get fifteen, rookie."
Clay merely nodded his head, sat down, lifted the weight off the rack, and began pressing the bar behind his head. On the ninth rep, Clay began to strain. Max touched the bar, lifting it just enough to allow Clay to get it back over his head.
"Six more to go, rook," Max shouted, getting excited now. He would show Clay the kind of mental toughness it took to play in the NFL. He was sure Blackwell would quit after the original ten. Then Max would scoff at him for being a quitter and a glamour boy who liked the cameras but not the weights.
Clay said nothing, just lowered the weight and began to push out another rep, then another, and another. Max had to give him more help with each rep, but he gave him only enough to get the weight up with an extreme struggle.
"Come on, Blackwell!" Max yelled. "Are you gonna quit on the field when it's fourth and inches? Are you really big-time?"
Clay was losing strength fast. On the fourteenth rep, he felt his arms go dead. He had nothing left. Max was screaming now, urging him on, insulting him, challenging him.
"Are you a little girl?" Max screamed. There was nothing the rookie could do. Max could see that Clay had no strength left in his arms and shoulders. They were limp.
Then Clay let out a primal roar: "Aghhhhhhh! Motherrrrrfuckerrrrrr!" His eyes bulged and his face turned purple. His limbs shook with the terrible strain of forcing muscles to perform, muscles with no oxygen that by rights should not work at all.
Then Max saw it, the rage seen only on the faces of the most intense players in the league. And he felt it too. Not much, but enough force to know that Blackwell hadn't quit. When Blackwell's body told him nothing was left, his mind blew a fuse and overrode the governors of the body. Somewhere deep inside him was an insane desire to win waiting to be released. It was something Max hadn't seen in any of his other Ruffians teammates, but he knew the feeling. It was an emotion that went beyond any drug. Max lifted the bar the rest of the way up and then toward the rack.