When she’d mentioned it before leaving the Hunts’, Laura had burst out laughing. “Forget it, Donna,” she’d advised. “Bruce is blessed with good health—through no effort of his own. He’s far too lazy to deliberately move a muscle he doesn’t have to.”
“Well, he goes sailing,” she had said in Bruce’s defence.
“Sailing. You know perfectly well all he does is push buttons. That boat does all the work. You might as well give up, Donna. He wouldn’t bother to learn a new sport. The only reason he plays tennis sometimes is because we took lessons together when we were growing up, and he was too competitive to let me beat him at anything.”
“Tennis, huh? I play tennis. We could play together.”
“Like once every six months? That’s Bruce’s nod to physical fitness. He belongs to a club. But you wouldn’t like it, love.”
“Why in the world not?” Donna couldn’t imagine disliking anything to do with Bruce.
“He plays one set and then heads for the bar, where he has at least three drinks to get over the strain and eats all the nibblies in sight. Mark has often said that Bruce can eat more potato chips, Fritos and nachos than any other six living men.”
“But he could run,” she had persisted. “That doesn’t take any skill.”
“You got him out once,” Laura said, smiling; then she handed Donna the car keys. “Maybe you should count that a victory and quit. Any coordination Bruce has is sheer luck. When he was little he could stumble over the pattern in a rug. He’ll never go for running very often.”
“Well,” Donna said, taking the keys, “I’m going to give it another try. Running alone in the park in the early evening, after work, is okay. There are plenty of people around. But I didn’t like it the other night when I got there after eight.”
Laura caught her arm as she turned to leave. “You didn’t run alone in Golden Gate Park at night, Donna!” There was consternation in the blue eyes. “Mark would have a fit if he knew.”
“Well, yes, I did,” Donna admitted. “It was that other night I worked late. You and Mark were out when I got home, and I just needed to get out and run.”
“Oh, don’t do that again, please. It’s just asking for trouble.”
“I’d already decided that by myself,” Donna said ruefully. “Somebody followed me, and not just another runner, either. Fortunately, as Dad always says, I can outrun the devil himself, so I lost the guy.”
Laura grinned suddenly. “You know what? I know we’ve sworn off being devious since Bruce actually found Mr. Tsung, but why don’t you tell Bruce you’ve been running alone in Golden Gate Park at night? He may just decide to come with you.”
Donna grinned. She tossed the keys up and down in her palm and turned to go without another word.
The sun was low in the sky when she pulled Laura’s little green BMW to a stop in front of Bruce’s house. The door was just closing behind him. It opened again immediately, and he leaned out.
“I thought I saw Laura’s car. Hi. Come on in. I’m just figuring out what to do about dinner.”
Donna hopped from the car and sprinted up the short front walk. “What are you dressed up for?” Bruce asked.
“It’s my new running outfit. Like it?”
“Ye-es,” he said doubtfully. “But not what it portends. I have this gut feeling you’re going to invite me for another of your famous runs.”
“Bingo. We’ve both worked hard all day. We need to unwind.”
“Look, kid, I never needed help unwinding in my life. My problem is usually the reverse.” He strode ahead of her through the hall, dropping his briefcase on a table and yanking off his tie. As he placed one foot on the bottom step of the stairway, he paused for a moment. “My problem is winding up in the first place. I’ll say this for you. You have a gift for it. You’re wound up all the time.”
“Why, thank you, Bruce. I think. Okay,” she said lightly. “If you don’t want to go, you don’t. But I better get going. It’ll be dark soon, and Golden Gate Park isn’t very well lighted in places.”
He was halfway up the stairs when he turned and clattered down again quickly.
“You’re not going to run in the park alone at night! What are you, some kind of nut?” He stopped in front of her and grasped her shoulders.
She shrugged free. “Look, I’ve got to hurry. And listen, dear friend, I’m safe, believe me. There isn’t a mugger alive who can outrun me. Why, the other night—”
He grabbed her shoulders again. “You mean you’ve done this before?”
“Bruce,” she said with elaborate patience, careful not to smile. “There are two typists out on vacation and another one got sick. We’re shorthanded down at Fenton and Hunt. You VIPs in your private offices never know what’s going on. I worked until after eight the other night. And tonight…why, I only just got off a few minutes ago. This is the only time I’ve got to run today.”
He groaned. “Oh, all right, dammit. I’ll go with you. This time, mind you. This time only. But I don’t want you to get any crazy ideas about a fitness program. I’m already fit. If I were any fitter I’d be Superman. Wait here.” He started up the stairs again, but turned suddenly three steps up.
“What happened the other night?”
“Nothing happened,” she said blandly. “That’s the point. There was some man following me, but I put on some speed and lost him.”
He groaned again, hollowly, and climbed the stairs like a bent old man. She couldn’t help laughing out loud.
All the way to the park Bruce laid down various ground rules. He was a teeny bit out of condition, so he was going to set the pace this time. They were only going to run for a very short time, and then rest. They were only going to run on level ground.
“Bruce, lighten up, it’s not going to kill you. It’ll be good for you. You’ll love it.” She turned onto Fulton Street and drove beside the park until she reached the avenues in the Richmond district.
“Turn in here. It’s pretty level here,” Bruce commanded.
“Little bit farther,” she said, driving on. “Let’s get closer to the beach.”
Once they’d left the car and entered the endless green expanse of park, Donna felt an immediate rush of pleasure. The setting sun seemed to blaze in the tops of nearby trees, casting long shadows across the rolling lawns. There was a scattering of green slat benches along the winding road, most of them empty. An elderly man, with an elderly cocker spaniel, occupied one. Halfway up a nearby slope was a spread blanket, the remains of a picnic, and a couple with a baby asleep in a carrier. It looked wonderfully peaceful and almost deserted. From the distance came the sound of traffic, lighter now than it would have been a couple of hours ago.
“Well, okay,” Bruce said impatiently. “We came here to run, so let’s run.” He started off down the path at a dogtrot.
“Bruce,” Donna called disgustedly. “Come back. Don’t you remember anything about our last run? What I told you?”
He wheeled around, going onto the lawn to do so, then loped back and ran in place. “What’s the matter with you? You’re just standing there. You’re the one who was so hot to run. Have you grown into the ground?” He was starting to breathe a little more rapidly, and came to a stop.
“Did you forget what I explained about stretching first?” she asked. “You don’t just start running.”
“Oh, yes,” he said, clapping his hand to his forehead. “We do calisthenics first. I remember now. We stretch. We twist. We bend. We use a nearby tree and put our leg up it and push. We damn near tear out perfectly good leg muscles. How could I ever forget? You take that tree. I’ll take this one, it’s closer.” He went to the tree and fell against it, hands outstretched, and arched his back in and out. “Look, Ma, I’m warming up.”
“Oh, Bruce. This is serious. We’re dealing with our bodies here. We want to do what’s best for our bodies. We must listen to our bodies.” She began her own series of exercises, starting slowly and working up to a more strenuo
us pace. She could feel her tight muscles loosening.
“My body wants to go home,” Bruce grunted after a moment. “My body wants to sit down in my living room and have a drink.”
“Bruce, knock it off, will you? Can’t you admit that this is one thing I do know more about than you do?”
“Well, you said listen to our bodies, and mine is speaking very clearly regarding the point about going home.”
She ignored his complaints, and continued her workout until she felt ready to run.
“Okay. I’m ready,” she said, beginning to run lightly in place. “Are you ready?” She adjusted her white sweat-band against her forehead.
“I’m ready to drop. Is that what you mean?”
She set out at a loose, steady pace, not too fast. She would increase her speed by easy stages as she went. She knew from long experience that she wouldn’t really hit her stride for some time.
“Come on,” she called over her shoulder. Then she gave herself up to the joy of controlled motion, her feet hitting the path lightly, rhythmically, her face bathed in alternating sun and shadow. In a few moments, she heard Bruce coming behind her. She stayed in front of him, knowing from experience that if she slowed to drop back and run beside him, he would also slow down. She did moderate her pace somewhat when she began to hear his audible breathing. She mustn’t push him too hard. She must help him enjoy exercise if she could.
“When are we gonna stop?” He was panting now.
“Save your breath,” she called over her shoulder, and almost stumbled over the first of a line of wood ducks waddling rapidly across the road. Donna sprinted and made it past the rest of the yellow-footed procession. “Look out for the ducks,” she yelled.
Too late. Bruce either hadn’t seen them or couldn’t stop soon enough. She heard him shout, and whirled around just in time to see him plough into the birds. They scattered in a burst of outraged squawking, feathers flying, and Bruce crashed headlong among them and sprawled facedown on the lawn.
“Bruce! Bruce!” She rushed to him.
He rolled over and sat up. “What in the living hell!”
“Ducks,” she said, “just some ducks you ran over. We must be near one of the lakes. Are we?”
“I…don’t…know,” he said, in a measured voice. “And…I…don’t…care.” Then he groaned and lay back, spread-eagled on the lawn. “Well, at least those stupid creatures stopped this mad run. Sit down,” he commanded. “Rest a while. I know you’re not tired, but rest anyway.”
Laughing, she dropped down beside him. It was clear the run was over, not long after it had started.
“You know something,” she said after a moment, pulling off her sweatband. “We’re not even wet.”
“Should we be wet?” he asked testily.
“Well, runners usually work up a sweat. We didn’t even do that.”
“We did enough. We gave a thousand ducks cardiac arrest,” he grunted. “Just be quiet and relax.”
“This was a start, at least. It should show you something, Bruce. You are a little bit out of condition. If you would do this—just a little of it—working up slowly—you’d be in so much better health. Exercise has to be made a regular part of—”
“Donna, will you please shut up?” Bruce had closed his eyes.
“Admit it,” she persisted. “Aren’t you beginning to feel better already?”
“I am beginning to feel dead.”
“But, Bruce—” She began to gather a bunch of white clover blossoms.
“And if you don’t shut up and let me rest a minute, you are going to be dead.”
She started making a clover chain, twisting each thin, pliant stem into a loose single knot and thrusting a bloom through it. When she had enough for a circlet, she joined the two ends. She’d been silent long enough.
“Are you rested yet?” she asked.
“No.”
“When do you think you will be rested?”
“In twelve hours, I think. Approximately.”
“Would you like a clover chain?”
“Donna.” His voice was heavy with warning, but he sat up. “That’s kind of cute,” he added, as she put the chain on her head. “So that’s a clover chain, huh? Well, nature girl, I think I have some news for you.”
“What’s that?” she asked eagerly.
“I think I busted my ankle.” He gingerly stroked his left ankle.
“Oh, Bruce, no. And after only ten minutes running.” She scrambled to her feet. “Can you…uh…move it?”
“Maybe. Give me a hand, will you?” Wincing, groaning slightly, he managed to struggle up on one leg.
“Bruce, listen,” she said urgently. “Just today at the office, some of the men in the coffee room were talking about this great doctor at a big hospital. He specializes in sports medicine. You’re laughing.”
“I can’t help it. The idea of me going to a sports-medicine specialist.”
“You’re not hurt at all!”
“Oh, hell.” He had put both feet solidly on the ground. “I thought I’d con you into stopping this running nonsense.” With that, he took off, racing back the way they’d come. She caught up with him almost instantly.
Back in the car again, she was still laughing. “You’d do anything to avoid some sort of regular program, wouldn’t you?” she demanded.
“Practically,” he said. “Give me the keys. You haven’t eaten yet, either, have you? Shall we go to that wonderful junk food place?”
She sighed deeply. “What’s that?” She dug in her pocket for the car keys.
“Only the best hamburger place in San Francisco.” He clutched a handful of the faded T-shirt he wore with threadbare khaki shorts. “And they don’t require a shirt and tie, my love. Incidentally,” he said, turning to look at her, “you’re going to run every day, aren’t you, no matter what I say.”
“Yep.”
He sat for a moment, his hands on the wheel. “I’m not giving in, mind you,” he said after a moment. “But I don’t want you coming out here by yourself. Seriously. Can we make a deal?”
“Bruce? You’re coming with me?” She felt breathless.
“Yes. But grudgingly. And not necessarily to run,” he added quickly.
“Not to run? How could you keep up? What would be the point?”
“Oh, I’ll run sometimes,” he conceded. “But not if I don’t feel like it. Understood? I may just drive along beside you in the car, okay? And your laurel wreath, or whatever it is, is crooked.”
She burst out laughing, trying not to sound triumphant. “Any way you want,” she agreed. “Whatever you say.” She took the circle of clover off her head and twirled it around, chuckling to herself.
WHEN HE WENT INSIDE his house again, he accidentally let the door slam behind him. It echoed loudly, making the rooms around him feel even emptier than they usually did. He had a strong impulse to call Donna back, but crushed it. Well, she’d got her way after all with the damned physical-fitness program. But there was no way he could let her roam around that park after dark. What had she been thinking of, the little dumbbell? Or else he was the dumbbell, and she’d conned him—which was, he had to admit, entirely possible.
He picked up a stack of mail from the hall table and began to riffle through it. And she had looked lovely in that flower-halo thing she had put in her hair. He held the letters in motionless hands for a long moment, seeing her face, her smile. What it meant was that they would be together that much more. You’re a sap, Fenton, he told himself. She conned you. And you fell for it.
He walked listlessly into the living room and sat in one of the chairs in front of the empty fireplace, the mail still in his hands. She was too damned seductive, that was the trouble. He’d just have to hang on to his big-brother act until the end of summer. And that, he thought, wasn’t going to be easy.
But at the end of summer—what then? Well, Donna would go back home to Vancouver, that’s what, start university the way she should, the way her pare
nts wanted her to.
Speaking of her parents, he hoped he could get Donna through the Raymond Tsung affair without too much hassle. He didn’t want her hurt by it. When he went to see Tsung, he’d make very sure of the man’s attitude before he took Donna to face him. And maybe, just maybe, they could get the business finished without upsetting Sara and Evan.
Then…sometime…maybe…if Donna was right, and they did have a future together…He let the idea drift through his mind for a while as he began to go through the motions of sorting the envelopes in his hands, not even looking at them.
DONNA WAS CLEAR INTO the breakfast room the next morning before she realized the atmosphere was charged with suppressed anger. She paused behind her chair, wishing desperately that she was someplace else, anyplace else.
“Everybody else goes in the van,” E.J. said through his teeth, his straight little back rigid with fury. “All the other guys…”
“Okay, E.J. That’s it. Enough. It’s just a little two-week summer school.” Mark spoke sharply. “Your mother always drives you to school. That’s the arrangement we’ve always had, and that’s what she wants to do.” He had started out firmly, but ended on an almost doubtful note.
“Always been.” E.J. slammed down his spoon, dropping the bite of cantaloupe he hadn’t put in his mouth. “Mom! I want to start riding in the school van!” He turned blazing eyes on his mother. “Are you gonna drive me to school when I get in second grade? Are you, Mom?” He was near tears.
“E.J. Don’t talk to your mother in that tone. Morning, Donna. Sorry, we seem to be having a little domestic row. Now, be quiet, E.J. Don’t spoil breakfast for everyone. Eat up, son. The sky isn’t going to fall in just because your mother won’t let you ride in the school van.”
“But the other guys…” The little boy was pleading.
Laura crumpled her napkin in her lap. “What do you mean, his mother won’t let him. You agreed, Mark! You agreed it was better that I take him to school and pick him up. Summer school is no different. Don’t put all the blame on me.” Her blues eyes were bright with anger.
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