“That’s fine. Do you want me to give you some money for materials now?”
“No. Wait until I see how much everything’s going to be.” She rested her hand on the guitar case leaning against the bed. “Do you play?”
“Not as often as I’d like.”
“I’ve always wanted to learn. Would you play something for me?”
With a smile, Connie reached for the case. “If you sing with me.”
Kasey smiled and watched Connie settle on the edge of the bed. Long slender fingers with their painted nails deftly strummed warm-up chords as shiny dark hair fell softly forward across a porcelainperfect cheek.
Sitting down next to her, Kasey listened to the soft, light voice accompany the skillful fingers through an unfamiliar song. Lovely sounds of perfect pitch enhanced an already beautiful vision and did nothing to diminish the infatuation she was feeling. She was busy taking in the details when the notes began to take on a familiar melody, “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.” She’d performed it so many times that the words no longer required thought. Gently she added her stronger, richer voice, in a harmony that must have surprised Connie.
At the sound of Kasey’s voice, Connie looked up, fixing her own darker blue eyes on Kasey’s. They finished the song together. “That was beautiful,” she said, her eyes remaining on Kasey’s.
“We do sound pretty good together.”
“I mean you ... your voice. Kasey, it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you, but I could listen to you play all night. Keep playing.”
Connie finally smiled and let her fingers dance across the strings. They sang song after song. Their voices, sometimes blending, sometimes soloing, began nurturing the seed of a special bond. All the while they shared their talent, a familiarity was developing between them. Beyond appreciation, it was a sense of inclusiveness, of allowing another to feel how special something is to you. For Kasey, music was a communication deeper and more honest than speech. Her voice in song offered truths of Kasey Hollander unrevealed otherwise. A safe venue, for it would take another as sensitive as herself to hear its message. And it had been far too long in silence.
Just singing again made her feel so good, like the exhilaration of a good workout, only better. Its expression cleansed her soul, and Kasey had needed this cleansing for a long time. Connie would probably never know how grateful she was to her for playing tonight, and it was probably just as well.
Glancing at her watch, she suddenly realized how long they had been singing. “God, Connie! You’re not going to believe what time it is.”
Connie collapsed backward on the bed, her head coming to rest on the pile of clothes behind her. “I don’t even want to know.”
“Well, don’t be shocked when there’s a knock at your door shortly and some guy in tights is standing there with a glass slipper in his hand.”
With an easy laugh, she replied, ‘“Ah, yes. That would be my prince coming to take me off to never-never land. Oh, wait. I think that’s the wrong fairy tale.” She lifted her head from the gray suit on the top of the pile and propped herself up on her elbows. “Anyway, he probably refused to stop and ask for directions, so he’ll never find the place.”
Kasey laughed easily. “Thanks for playing, Connie. Tonight’s been ref reshing.” And much too comfortable. It is time to leave.
“I haven’t enjoyed an evening so much in quite some time. I thank you.”
“You say that now, but I’ll bet you’ll be cussing me out in—” she looked again at her watch “—about three hours.”
Connie raised her eyebrows. “I’ll probably be thinking about how hard it’ll be for you to drag yourself up on that scaffold.” She sat up, her face suddenly concerned. “Do you have to work up there tomorrow?”
“Today,” Kasey corrected. “I sure do. But it’s been worth it.”
“Then please be careful? I don’t want to lose a client as fast as I get one.”
As they stood at the door, Kasey reminded her, “Don’t forget, I’ll be back a week from Sunday, about eight o’clock. That’s in the morning,” she smiled. “You going to be up? I know how you night people are on the weekends.”
Connie laughed softly. “I’ll be up.”
Four
Troy looked at the boards and tools in the back of the truck with a puzzled look on his face. Hmm, top quality, no knots. Wonder where these go, he thought, entering the nearly finished house. “Hey, Kasey,” he yelled into the middle of the house.
“Hey, Troy,” came the answer from upstairs. “Take the tools by the door out to the truck, will you, please?”
“You got it.” Picking up the circular saw and portable worktable, he knew now the project was going somewhere else.
On his way up the stairs, Troy heard the beautiful, sultry voice that he had missed for so long. He recognized the song and smiled as he hummed along. Kasey was hanging the closet door as she sang. He approached, holding an imaginary microphone and began singing along. With his arm around her, they finished the song, singing into his fist. On the last note, Kasey reached over and ruffled his hair.
“I like to hear you sing,” he said sincerely. “You’re really good.”
The slightest little grin turned the corners of her mouth. “Yeah, what do you know?”
In his most professional sounding voice, he returned, “Actually, I’m a field representative from a major recording company. It just so happens that I’m searching for new talent in the area.”
“Yeah, right, and I’m Whitney Houston in disguise,” she laughed. “But you’re a sweetheart. I bet if we weren’t related I’d fall in love with you.”
“Uh-huh, and all I’d have to do is grow boobs and have a little minor surgery,” he replied, swishing his hips mockingly on his way out of the room.
Kasey laughed and watched the cousin she’d grown up with disappear around the corner.
“Hey,” he said, popping his head back inside the door. “What’s the stuff in the back of the truck for?”
“I’m building a closet organizer for our accountant tomorrow.”
‘“Ah, Connie. Isn’t that her name?”
“Remarkable memory.”
“There’s a woman who could talk me into shopping on Super Bowl Sunday,” he said with a wink as he stood in the doorway.
She closed the closet door without looking at him. “Why don’t you ask her out?”
“If I’m not mistaken, she’s more your age,” he grinned.
“And straight,” she said seriously. “I’m not interested.”
“Then why have you been so happy all week? And singing?”
Her tone was unmistakably cool. “She’s nice to look at.”
Realizing her change in mood, Troy left the room, shaking his head. He had touched a sore spot and was sorry.
Five
The clock read eight forty-five. Connie had already removed everything from her closet, taken a shower, fixed her hair, and made sure she had everything needed to cook dinner later. For the next fifteen minutes, she rushed around the house, dusting, moving this, straightening that. Normally by this time she would have assumed Kasey wasn’t coming and been justifiably irritated. But something made her sure she was only very late, and somehow even that didn’t bother her. Kasey’s own words came to mind, “You going to be up?” They only made her smile.
Connie Bradford had never before found so many reasons to call a client. Some were business related, and some, she rationalized, had to do with today’s undertaking. She hadn’t, however, hesitated to call at the slightest excuse. Interwoven throughout her workdays now was curiosity about Kasey Hollander, about her interests and tastes. She guessed at her goals and her fears and wondered if this was a woman who could provide the friendship absent in her life. Was she capable of the loyal companionship for which she herself seemed to be incessantly searching? Of the friendship that could provide a gentle understanding of her needs, as well as a wall of strength in the face of doubt? Of quie
t evenings, shared interests, unshakable support, and all those things that had always been too much to expect from friendship, although she always had.
Intuitively, she had never expected so much from the men she dated. And neither her father, nor her brother, had shown such capabilities. It seemed only possible from another woman. She had found bits and pieces and interludes, some with her mother and some with her sister and her college friends. Yet the enduring whole of it had eluded her, and somehow, stubbornly, the hope of its possibility remained. Now for the first time in years she felt compelled to try again.
A sound from the front sent her to the window. Kasey was backing her truck into the driveway. “I’ll help you carry things,” she yelled halfway out the door.
“I’m sorry I’m so late. I turned off the alarm and went right back to sleep. I hardly ever do that.”
Her sincerity quickly erased all temptation to rub in her earlier comment. “No big deal. I got a lot done this morning. Where do you want everything?”
All morning and into the late afternoon, Kasey worked diligently on her creation. Steadily the empty closet became transformed into a functional, efficient space. Connie, too, worked consistently, organizing and sorting the contents. Anything that didn’t fit, or that she hadn’t worn in over a year, went into giveaway bags. It was exciting to finally be able to organize one of the most commonly used areas of her house. She must have thanked Kasey twenty times.
“Ooh, nice dress,” Kasey remarked, entering the bedroom as Connie smoothed the peach dress out on the bed.
“Thanks. I think this is the one I’m going to wear to the open house next month.”
“Is that the open house I received an invitation to yesterday?”
“The very one. The company’s honoring my new department. You’re coming, aren’t you?”
“I wouldn’t miss it. Besides, it gives me a good excuse to buy a new outfit. I’m going to have to make time to go shopping pretty quick,” she replied, disappearing into the closet.
“You want company? I love to shop.”
“Sure, that’d be fun.”
She stuck her head into the closet. “You gonna be ready to eat pretty soon?”
“About an hour ought to do it. I’ll finish this up and clean up my mess out back.”
“Okay, I’m putting dinner on now. It should be ready when you are.”
“No, you don’t have to do that, Connie. We could just pick up some sandwiches or something.”
“It’s no problem. I love to cook, and I rarely have this opportunity. I don’t want to hear any argument.” She looked into Kasey’s uplifted face. “Do you like Cornish hen and mashed potatoes?”
“I could be partial to almost anything home cooked. It’s something I don’t do well myself.”
“Okay, it’s settled. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
She stood at the kitchen window, spellbound by the beauty of Kasey’s movements. Fluid and strong, the muscles of her arms and legs rolled and flexed, while the lines that defined them alternately appeared and disappeared. Nothing she did was gauche or abrupt. Even the most mundane movements had a certain grace about them. Connie had always appreciated the beauty of the female body, especially when it was so close to perfection. She found an enchantment to the bend of Kasey’s body and the taper of her back as it slipped smoothly into the faded waistband. Watching her was an accepted pleasure. But it was one of those pleasures in life that she had always kept to herself.
The allure of Kasey Hollander though, she quickly reminded herself, was not merely physical. There was definite appeal in her independence, in her disregard for traditional boundaries, and in her love of music. Exactly the kind of person I need—someone who asks the same things of life, who would respect me for my abilities and lend support for my goals, someone to whom I can offer the same in return.
Before she realized it, Kasey was picking up her tools and bagging up scrap pieces of wood. How long she’d stood watching her, Connie couldn’t say. Dinner had apparently fixed itself. Suddenly Kasey looked up and noticed her watching. Connie felt a rare twinge of ... certainly not embarrassment. It was a rare occasion that Connie Bradford found anything embarrassing. “Dinner will be ready shortly,” she said quickly. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starved. Let me get washed up,” she replied, brushing past Connie. “I probably smell like a goat.”
“No. You don’t.” Greg after a workout—now that would challenge a few dirty goat butts.
Kasey emerged from the bathroom just as the phone rang.
“Hi. Just getting ready to eat.” Connie rolled her eyes and motioned for Kasey to sit. “No. I told you I was busy today. Yeah, well ... it can’t be helped … getting my closet done. Don’t be stupid, Greg. I hate it when you do that … no. I don’t know. I’ll call you.” Connie hung up the phone with a look of disgust on her face. “Why are guys so obnoxious?” And controlling, self-indulgent, and egotistical. But obnoxious will do for now.
Kasey responded with only a sly grin, and Connie continued. “When are you getting married?”
“I’m not.”
“I assumed from the ring ...”
“My mother’s.”
“Are you involved in a relationship?”
Kasey’s brow furrowed in the place just above her nose, but there was a remnant of a grin on her lips. “Not right now.”
“I’m sorry. When I’m not careful, I start sounding like a female Jack Webb. ‘Just the facts, ma’am,’” she smiled. “I apologize if I’m being precipitous. It’s just that some good ol’ unmarried advice would be much appreciated. I already know what my married friends would tell me.”
“And what would that be?”
“What a great guy Greg is. They’ve told me how foolish I’d be if I don’t marry him ... as if I’d forgotten their complaints of married life.” She passed the potatoes across to Kasey. “They think I’m expecting to find the perfect relationship.”
“Are you?”
“I’m not under that delusion. Maybe they’re more willing to live with things that I’m not. Or maybe it’s the misery-loves-company syndrome. Either way, I’m not getting the objectivity I need.”
“I don’t know if I’m a good one to give advice.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I was in a relationship for over three years. It was very complicated and even kept me from starting my business. But as bad as it got, I knew I wasn’t going to be the one to leave.”
“He left you?”
Kasey took a bite of chicken and nodded.
For a moment, she wished she hadn’t asked. Why would a talented, self-sufficient woman with looks like Kasey’s hang on to a bad relationship? Whatever the reason, it was totally irrational. “Was he jealous of you having a career?”
“No. It didn’t look good for a woman to be doing this kind of work. This is excellent, Connie. Thanks for treating me to such a delicious dinner.”
“I’m glad you like it,” she said quickly, slightly irritated at the departure from purposeful conversation. She put it right back on track. “Why is it that we put up with that kind of thinking for so long? I’ve done the same thing with Greg. Being free of that kind of pressure must feel wonderful.”
Kasey smiled curiously and took a sip of coffee. “Do you love him?”
Connie looked her directly in the eye. “I thought I did, once.”
“Then what decision is there to make? Unless you still want the sex part of the relationship.”
Exactly, Kasey. Exactly what’s needed here—a straightforward, logical discussion of the situation. Precisely what a friend should do. “You make it sound so simple. No, for me sex is not a necessity, it’s an option. One I don’t want with Greg.”
“It sounds like you’ve made your decision. I don’t understand what the problem is.”
“Getting him—and everyone else, I guess—to accept that it’s over.”
“Have you told him you don’t want to see
him anymore?”
“Yes, rather bluntly. I thought I made it clear that I don’t love him. Of course, he’s sure there’s someone else.”
Kasey began clearing the dishes from the table.
“Probably easier on his ego.”
“Mmm. He’d relish the chance to push his chest at some guy and challenge him to take me from him. Jealousy of someone having something he considered his is what he feels. Not love. He hasn’t a clue of what love is.” She drew dishwater as she spoke. “The problem is that if there is no one else he has no one to confront except himself.”
“And you.”
“Naturally. It’s not his fault.”
“Is he harassing you?” Kasey asked, pulling the dish towel off the handle of the stove.
“Harassment?” Her brow squeezed into a pensive frown.
“He hasn’t given up yet. I took my key off his key ring last week. I was afraid that if I asked him for it he’d make a copy first. He’s dealing with his anger right now.”
“Has he ever hit you?”
“No. He’s looked like he wanted to a couple of times, but he threw something instead.”
“I‘ve learned never to trust that a man can control his anger.”
The look in Kasey’s eyes was all that was needed for Connie to know that the words were spoken from experience. “In all honesty, I’ve been the one guilty of inflicting most of the pain—emotional pain, that is. I’ve said things that I knew blew his ego right out of the water. But I didn’t know how else to do it.”
Kasey’s tone was tempered, her gaze somewhat distant.
“Then what is it you need from me?”
“A word of support from someone I hardly know. Seems a strange thing to need when you put it into words.”
“Not really. Support is important. You get it wherever you can. You can’t be responsible for making someone else happy; only yourself. And only you can know how to do that. That’s a lesson I had to learn the hard way.” The seriousness in her face softened into a gentle smile. “My objective viewpoint, for what it’s worth.”
Marianne K. Martin - Love in the Balance Page 2