by Peggy Webb
“There, now, sweetheart. There now.” He rocked her in his arms, soothing and stroking. But her sobs got harsher. Her shudders were hard against him, and he suddenly realized that she would never grieve so over failure to knit a sweater. “Tell me what’s wrong, Doc.”
“I’m tired... so tired.”
“I know, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of her hair. “Tell me about it.”
“Oh, God, Dan.” Janet lifted her tear-stained face. “He’s going to die.”
“Who?” When she was silent, he prodded gently. “Let me share this burden with you. Tell me, Janet.”
“A little boy in the hospital.... I had to tell his parents tonight.” She sniffed and took a deep, gulping breath. “He has a malignant brain tumor. Inoperable.”
“I’m so sorry.” He stroked her hair, her face, her neck. “I wish I could ease your pain.”
Now that she had started talking, she seemed to gain strength and courage. Her voice became stronger as she talked. “He’s so young, Dan. He said he wanted a car like Batman when he grew up. He’ll never grow up.”
“I’m listening, sweetheart.”
“We can buy him a little time with chemotherapy - a year, maybe two. When I begin to think that science and medicine can cure every disease, when I get carried away with my own power, something like this happens to give me the right perspective.” She lifted her head and looked at him. “It’s so hard to be helpless in a situation like this. I feel as if I’ve betrayed them.”
“That’s not true. And I’m sure they don’t feel that way.”
“No. They were very sweet...brokenhearted, but sweet.”
“And you have given them something. You’ve given them hope.” She sat quietly, waiting for him to continue, content to rest in the shelter of his arms. “Who knows what will happen in the next year or two? Perhaps a cure for cancer will be discovered. Or there might even be a miracle.”
“Do you believe in miracles, Dan?”
“Yes, Janet. Do you?”
“I believe in science and knowledge—” Pausing, she stared into space. But she wasn’t looking outward; she was looking inward. She was seeing the things in life that defied logic and reason: the flight of the bumblebee, the beaching of whales, the suicidal plunge into the sea of the lemmings. Life was filled with mysteries and miracles.
“To a certain extent, I do, Dan.”
She leaned her head back against his chest. How good it felt to rest and be comforted! It was a luxury she hadn’t had in many years.
Dan kissed the top of her head. “My mother had a wonderful cure for the blues.”
“I can’t think of one better than this.”
“She used to run a tubful of hot water and pour in bubble bath. There was a special jar just for the occasion. When we were still small, she’d come in and scrub our backs and tell funny stories. After we got too big for that, she’d stand outside the door and yell through, ‘Did you hear the one about old Mr. Pritckens. He started to hang flypaper strips on his front porch and his golden retriever got his tail stuck in the rosin. It took forever to get that dog loose. He said he thought he was going to have to hang old Sweetpea from the ceiling. Said he bet it was the biggest fly anybody ever caught.’“
“You do wonderful voices, Dan. Have you ever thought of going on stage?”
“I’d feel funny up there. I belong on a field somewhere, with a soccer ball between my feet.”
She lifted her head and smiled at him. “Thank you, Dan, for...everything.”
“You’re welcome.”
He held her in silence while the minutes ticked by. Finally he stood up and lifted her off the sofa.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to give you the complete blues cure.”
“Your mother’s cure?”
“With variations.”
He set her gently on her feet. “Don’t move from this spot.”
He left the room and she could hear his footsteps as he searched her little apartment. She heard doors opening and closing and finally the sound of water running. When he came back into the room he turned the lights down low and checked to be sure the draperies were closed.
With one hand he brushed her soft hair back from her face and with the other he unfastened the top button on her suit.
“I can do that, Dan.”
“I want to take care of you, Janet.”
He popped the second suit button open, and then the third and the fourth. She stood very still, luxuriating in the feeling of being pampered.
He slid the jacket from her shoulders, his hands skimming over her shoulders, sending heat waves through her silk blouse and warming her skin. He folded the jacket neatly then aimed it like a discus toward the sofa. It sailed through the air and landed on the cushions, still folded.
“How did you do that?”
“That’s one of the small compensations of being a coach. You can do laundry in one room and deliver it to the closets in the next without ever taking a step.”
“Why is it that you can always make me smile?”
“Is that a smile I see? Can it be? Ahhh...I do believe it’s a grin.”
Chuckling, she turned and started toward the bathroom.
Dan put his hands on her shoulders and turned her back to face him. “Where are you going, Doc?”
“To the tub. That is a bubble bath I hear, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” His hands descended to the front of her blouse. “But this therapy has to be done in proper order to work.” He opened the top button. “I’m going to undress you, and then I’m going to carry you to the tub. You’ll sink under the water, with bubbles up to your neck, and I’ll sit beside you and tell you funny stories. Afterward I’ll light a fire and sit beside you on this rug. We’ll drink wine and cuddle. You’ll tell me your secrets and I’ll tell you mine.”
“It sounds wonderful.” She put her hand over his. “I’ll take the tub and the funny stories, the fire and wine. But I’ll get to the tub and finish dressing under my own steam.”
“Shy?”
“No. Practical. I don’t ever star anything I don’t intend to finish. And believe it or not, I’m saving the finish line for my honeymoon.”
“I want you, Janet. Make no mistake about that. But tonight I want to give you something that has nothing to do with passion and everything to do with love. I want to give you tenderness and compassion and understanding and humor and support. I want you to know without a doubt that I am your best friend, that you can count on me in all circumstances. Do you trust me, Doc?”
“Yes.”
“Then everything is going to be all right.”
As he slipped her blouse from her shoulders, she had the awful feeling that she was about to open Pandora’s box and couldn’t get it closed again. By the time he removed her skirt, she reasoned that they were both intelligent, reasonable human beings who could draw the line wherever they wanted. When she was panties and bra and felt herself being lifted into his arms, she stopped thinking altogether. Sighing, she put her head on his chest, and felt the steady beat of his heart as he carried her to the tub.
“Do you want me to leave now?” he said.
“No.”
She hardly knew this suddenly reckless woman who slid out of panties and bra without a single qualm while the coach suddenly lost his power of speech.
The faucets were still running, not full force but in a steady stream, and bubbles filled the tub almost to the rim. She climbed into the tub and turned off the taps. Water lapped over the edges of the tub and splashed on his shoes.
“You’re getting wet, Dan.”
“Not as wet as I will be.” He pushed up the sleeves of his gray sweater and white shirt. “It’s my philosophy that no bath worth taking is done alone.”
She lifted her hair with both arms and leaned back. “This is sheer luxury.”
“This is just the beginning.” He turned and searched her vanity until he found two large tortoiseshell c
ombs. “Allow me, Doc.” He knelt beside the tub and secured the combs in her hair, then he leaned back to study the effect. Wispy curls escaped the combs and lay against her cheek and her neck. “Enchanting.”
“Will I do to go to the symphony?” Entering into the spirit of fun, she postured for him, lifting an imaginary fan with one hand and making a big to-do of fanning.
“I can think of other places I’d rather take you.”
His smile was somewhat wistful as he picked up a washcloth and began to lather it with soap.
“Turn that beautiful back to me and I’ll show you all the therapeutic techniques of a soccer coach.”
While Dan massaged her back, he talked. “Did I ever tell you about Tolbert Simmons?”
“No.”
“He was my grandfather’s age, a spry old man, even in his seventies.” He cast aside the cloth and began to massage with his hands. As he talked he could feel the tension easing out of her. “Folks called him the man who once died.”
“Why?”
“That was back in the days before embalming. Old Tolbert died and was decked out in his casket. Mourners were passing by, crying and telling all the good things they knew about him. When Minnie Crimpton passed by, she leaned down and kissed him on the lips. Old Tolbert kissed her back. After all the celebrating was over, folks asked him what had happened. He said he’d always been sweet on Minnie, and he guessed he had to die to get her to kiss him.”
Janet chuckled. “You made that up.”
“Scout’s honor. I did not.” He sat back on his heels and watched her laugh. “I never thought a woman’s laughter would be the sweetest music in the world.”
“You say beautiful things.”
“I’ll always say beautiful things... for you.” He reached into the water and caught one of her hands. Lifting it to his lips, he kissed her palm. “And now, m’lady, I’ll leave you to your bath.”
She touched her hand to his face. “Don’t go,” she whispered.
“I’m not leaving, sweetheart. I’m going to light your fire.”
“You’ve already lit my fire.” Her smile was wicked.
“And you’ve lit mine. That calls for a celebration, don’t you think?”
“Yes.”
He kissed her knuckles and lowered her hand back into the water. “Finish your bath, love. I’ll be right back.”
Janet sank back into the water, smiling. He left the bathroom and she could hear him moving about her apartment. Knowing that he was there made her feel peaceful and safe, as if she were a storm-tossed bird that had come unexpectedly upon a huge, sheltering rock.
She lingered in the tub and soon he was back, carrying her pink terry-cloth robe. He hung the robe on the bathroom hook and smiled down at her.
“All finished, Doc?”
“Is this ‘Twenty Questions’?”
“No. Only two.”
“The first is whether I am finished with the bath. What’s the second?”
“What’s my sweatshirt doing under your sofa cushion?”
“You looked under the sofa cushion?”
“I asked the first question, Doc.”
Still laughing, she took his hand and told him the whole story of his sweatshirt while she stepped out of the tub. He pulled her into his arms.
“You’ll get wet, Coach.”
“This is a new technique for drying. I call it press-and-dry.”
He hugged her so close she could feel the steady throbbing of his heart. She placed her head over that reassuring sound and rested there, sighing.
“Thank you, Dan.”
“I’m glad I was here for you.” He stepped back and looked down at her. “I plan always to be here for you.”
“Dan...”
“Shh...” He pressed a light kiss on her lips. “Tonight we’re going to cuddle beside the fire and drink wine and relax. I’m going to wave my magic wand and banish all thoughts that aren’t cheerful and pleasant.”
She grinned at him. “Show me your magic wand.”
“If I show you my magic wand, you’re liable to forget yourself and tarnish my reputation beyond repair.”
“And then I suppose I’d have to make an honest man of you by marrying you.”
“Exactly. And we’ll have no shotgun weddings, madame.” He gave her back a brisk massage with the towel and helped her into her pink terry-cloth robe.
Scooping her into his arms, he smiled down at her. “You look like pink cotton candy in that robe. I think I’ll eat you up, a little bit at a time.”
He growled playfully and nuzzled her neck. She was still laughing when they got back to her den. The room was cozy, filled with muted lamplight and the glow from the fireplace. Dan had turned on the gas, and flames from the logs made even her second-hand furniture look welcoming. Two glasses of wine sparkled beside the fire.
Dan sat on the rug and arranged Janet on his lap.
He tucked her robe around her bare legs and made sure she was sitting solidly on his blue-jean-clad thighs. “Comfortable?”
“Enormously. The fire feels good.”
“Fires are always cozier when they are shared.” He handed her a glass of win. “Drink. Coach’s orders.”
Janet took another sip, then closed her eyes, sighing.
“Dan? Why are you doing this?”
“Friendship.”
“That’s all?” She opened her eyes to look at him.
He had meant to choose a different time to tell her, a time when she was strong and composed. She was hurting now, and vulnerable. And yet... the time seemed right.
“Because I love you, Janet.”
Her cheeks flushed and her eyes became brighter. “What about your sweet, old-fashioned woman?”
“It’s a funny thing about dreams. I’ve had that vision before me for years, and all along I was merely biding my time until the right woman came along.” He traced the curve of her cheek with his finger. “You’re that right woman, Janet. It took me a long time to figure it out, but you’re the only woman I want, the only woman I need, the only woman I’ll ever love.”
“Would you be terribly surprised if I told you that I love you, too?”
“Not terribly.”
They laughed together.
“Who could not love a man with your supreme self-confidence?”
“You used to call it arrogance.”
“I used to call you a lot of things. Unsuitable, for one.” She brushed one hand his chest, reveling in the feel of his hard muscles beneath the soft gray sweater. “It was my way of protecting myself.” Her hand played over his chin. “We have a lot to talk about, a lot of kinks to work out.”
“We will. But not tonight. Tonight there will be nothing between us except love, no talk about the future, no talk about the past, no hurts, no problems. It’s just you and me, Janet.”
In one swift motion he rolled over so that they were lying side by side. He propped himself on his elbow so he could look into her face.
“What are you thinking?” she said.
“I’m thinking that you’re going to invite me to spend the night, and I’m going to say yes. And then I’m going to climb into your bed and sleep like a rock on my side, without touching you at all except accidentally.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Coach’s honor.”
Chapter Eleven
They stayed beside the firelight a while longer, sharing the last glass of wine. At last Janet couldn’t stifle a yawn.
“Bedtime, Doc.”
He lifted her into his arms and made his way to her bedroom.
“Dan, do you plan to carry me around this way the rest of our lives?”
“Yes. It builds muscles and it’s a lot more fun than lifting weights.”
When he lowered her to the bed, she wondered it was time to come to her senses.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea, Dan.”
“Shh. Tonight I’m going to be a man of honor and iron control. I’m going to hold
you in my arms all night long... merely hold you.”
God help her, she believed him. But if he came near Virginia, she was going to kill him.
His belt buckled thudded to the floor. The bed sank under his weight as he sat down, untied his jogging shoes and kicked them aside. Janet was fascinated, and it had nothing to do with scientific research. She had no idea that men were so…well, male.
When he stripped off his gray sweater and white shirt, she saw a gorgeous expanse of chest that almost made her swoon. She wondered if she’d had too much wine. Or maybe she hadn’t had enough.
When he turned back the covers and climbed into bed with her, she was glad her terry cloth robe was between her and the near-naked man in her bed. Not just any man, but Dan Albany, the man who made Virginia feel as if somebody had started a brush fire.
Without ceremony, he fitted her, spoon-fashion, against his body.
“Comfortable, love?”
“Umm hmm.” It was no lie. The big problem was how she would ever stay true to the Dixie Virgin’s rule number four. “You’re better than a down quilt.”
“You’re not too hot with that robe on?”
“You might as well know my awful secret: I get so cold in winter I sometimes sleep in wool socks.”
“I’m partial to women in wool socks.”
She pressed closer to him, reveling in the solid feel of his body, taking immense comfort from his reassuring presence and finding great joy in his unselfish love.
“ ‘Night, Coach.”
“Goodnight, Doc.”
o0o
When Janet awakened the next morning, she thought Dan had gone. There was an indentation in the pillow where his head had been, and his clothes were no longer lying on the floor.
She yawned and stretched. She felt good, refreshed, revitalized. She sat up and was just swinging her feet over the side of the bed when Dan entered the bedroom, carrying a tray full of food.
“Good morning, Doc. Sleep well?”
“Dan! I thought you had gone.”
“What? Leave before my good-morning kiss. Never.”