Under the Moonlight collection

by MaryAnn Kempher

  “Sure, that sounds fun. I’m finally finishing my degree, so I have school on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but maybe on a Friday after class. Or a Saturday would probably work.”

  “Do you have any plans after graduation? Or will you stay where you work now?”

  “I’ll stay where I’m at for now. I’m thinking of going to law school. But I’m still looking for my passion, if you know what I mean.”

  “Well, you have to try, that’s for sure,” said Michael. “You have to do what you love. Take me, for example. My father cuts hair. He has his own barbershop. Most of my life all I heard was how one day I’d come work by his side. But I’ve never wanted to work with hair, never wanted to work in the shop. So, I joined the military to get out of it. My father was hurt, but eventually he forgave me and now he understands. I’m not saying that banking is my passion, just that cutting hair wasn’t. I really love kids. Kids and sports. I might go back to school and get my teaching certificate.”

  Katherine found herself laughing more than she had in a long time. Michael did drink more than she would have liked, but she got the impression that it was important to him that their reunion be a success so she attributed it to nerves. She was feeling generous - she even let him pay.

  They passed the karaoke bar again as they left. Glancing in, Katherine saw the blond woman they’d passed earlier. She was approaching a man. The lighting was low, so Katherine couldn’t see him clearly.

  Looks like it’s your lucky night, buddy.

  In the parking lot, Katherine suggested that she drive Michael home, but he assured her he was fine. He walked her to her car, and she was a little surprised he didn’t suggest they do anything else. She didn't mind, though. She’d had a Bloody Mary after dinner, and they always went to her head. Even though it was barely ten o’clock, she was feeling sleepy. She opened her car door.

  “I had a nice time tonight,” Michael said. “I hope we can get together again?”“Absolutely. I'd really like that.”

  “I’ll call you next week. Maybe we can see that show we talked about.”

  Katherine waited, half expecting a kiss goodnight. Michael seemed to hesitate, then leaned down and kissed her cheek before he turned and walked to his car. He waited for her to get into her car before he got into his and drove away.

  ***

  Scott stood when he saw the approaching woman.

  “Do you mind if I sit down?” she asked.

  Scott pulled out the chair next to his. “No, of course not. Please do.”

  They both sat.

  “Are you having a good time?” she asked, almost shouting over the music.

  “Sure.”

  “I’m Verna.”

  He held out his hand. “I'm Scott.”

  Neither spoke for a while, but as Scott drank his fifth beer, he looked her way and thought, Here goes nothing. He slid his chair closer to hers and bent forward.

  “Do you do karaoke?” he asked.

  “No, I couldn’t sing to save my life.”

  Scott laughed. Beautiful and funny.

  “I heard you singing earlier. You’re pretty good,” she said in his ear.

  “I don’t know about that, but thanks.”

  Scott asked her what she’d like to drink and went to the bar. When he returned, she excused herself and went to the restroom. As she walked away, Scott noticed her slender legs and full hips. After she returned, they made small talk for a while, but they both had more intimate thoughts on their minds. But this was the dance—the appropriate moves, the way it was done. After a lot more small talk and more drinks, the woman leaned in and kissed Scott.

  “Would you like to go to my apartment?” she asked.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Scott awoke on Saturday morning with a dry mouth and a slight headache. Looking into the bathroom mirror, he said out loud, “You look like hell, buddy.”

  He heard knocking and opened the door to see Katherine holding two Styrofoam cups. “God bless you, woman.”

  She came in and sat on the couch, one leg comfortably tucked under the other and her café mocha nearby.

  “You look hung over,” said Katherine.

  “I am hung over,” said Scott as he sat next to her.

  Katherine was finally used to his height, and she could even control her reaction to his deep voice, but now he was so near and wearing only a pair of thin pajama bottoms, and they were very alone. She tried not to look at his chest and stomach, which were toned and muscular but not overly so, with just the right amount of chest hair. She concentrated on her cup, afraid that what she felt was obvious on her face, and forced herself to think about Michael, anything to take her mind off of Scott’s body. Just then her phone rang. It was Amy.

  At the same time, there was a knock at the door. Scott got up and looked through the peephole. He didn’t recognize the woman at first, but then it all came back to him. It was Verna, the woman he’d met the night before. He’d been drunk, very drunk. She’d offered to drive him back to her place. They’d never made it there. That reminded him, he’d have to find a way back to the club for his jeep. He’d gotten sick in her car, and she’d brought him home. He was grateful, but a little worried when he saw her through his peephole. Was she going to be his stalker? Only one way to find out. He opened the door. She held up his wallet.

  “You dropped this in my car.”

  “Wow, thanks for bringing it by - and sorry about your car.”

  With a nod, Verna indicated she’d like to come into the apartment. He glanced back at Katherine and heard her say, “Michael?” He sighed and stepped out into the hall with Verna. “How did you find me?”

  “Your driver’s license, of course.”

  ***

  Amy had called to ask Katherine about her date with Michael, and while they were talking, Katherine had seen the woman who’d knocked, but she hadn’t heard Scott’s conversation with her. She’d watched as Scott went into the hall.

  Hello, you do have a guest.

  After a few minutes, Scott walked back in and sat down.

  “Well?” Katherine said.

  “Well what?”

  “Who was she?”

  “Her name’s Verna. We met at a club last night.”

  “You went out last night?”

  “I told you I probably would.”

  “So, what did she want?”

  Scott really didn’t want to tell Katherine he’d thrown up in the woman’s car.

  “I left my wallet with her by accident.” Well, it’s true.

  “Did you sleep with her?” A slightly accusatory tone had entered Katherine’s voice. Realizing this, she cleared her throat. She pretended a cheerfulness she didn’t feel. “Well, tell me all about it.”

  To Scott, it was bad enough that Verna knew he was a lightweight. Katherine didn’t need to know it too. Plus, he didn’t want to start giving out details of his night - those he could remember.

  “Nice try, but not my style.”

  She tried to mask her feelings by telling Scott about her date. “We had a lot of catching up to do. He’s—”

  “Please, spare me the details. Good food, good time. That’s all I need to know.” He looked around his apartment.“I need to get some pictures up. There’s an echo in here.”

  “Are you sure it’s not in your head?” said Katherine, smiling.

  Scott didn't turn his head but said quietly, “Pretty sure.” Then he turned on the television. A local celebrity had died.

  “If I die, will you go to my funeral?” asked Katherine.

  “Will there be food there?” answered Scott, with a straight face.

  “Ha ha.” Katherine stood. “Gotta go.”

  “You just got here.”

  “Yeah, but that was Amy on the phone, and she wants to meet for a late breakfast. I’ll see you later.”

  ***

  Scott held a washcloth to his forehead and asked himself why, when he knew that too much beer gave him a killer hangov
er, had he gotten so drunk? It was strictly a rhetorical question. It was because Katherine had been out with Michael and it bugged him. He knew keeping it on a friendly level was the smartest way to go, but the fact that she might start seeing someone wasn’t thrilling him.

  He wondered what, if anything, he should do about Verna. He didn’t have to do anything; he could treat it like the one-night stand it almost was, but that wasn’t in his character. She seemed really sweet, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to start dating again. A few minutes later, Jason called and made his decision easier.

  “So, I have some news,” he said. “Not sure how you’ll take it.”

  “Go ahead, I’m hung over. You can’t make me feel any worse than I already do.”

  “Aw man! You went out? Why didn’t you call me? You suck.”

  “Not now, Jason, my head’s ready to explode. What’s the news?”

  “It’s about Kimy.” He hesitated. “She’s getting married.”

  “What? Married? How can she be getting married already?”

  “I give it six months. I just found out myself. Apparently, she started dating some guy, and I guess they’re getting married.”

  “Yeah, but we dated for over three years. It’s only been, like, five or six months since we broke up.”

  “Be glad she’s somebody else’s problem now.”

  “I guess. I gotta go.”

  Scott laid his head on the back of the couch, a warm washcloth over his eyes. She’d been dating all this time? He’d actually felt guilty about Katherine. Well, not anymore. He sat up. He picked up the phone and dialed Verna’s number.

  ***

  Katherine pushed her eggs around her plate, then looked up at Amy. “I’d never seen him without a shirt,” she said. His chest was toned and defined without being too bulky. It had just the right amount of dark black hair, enough to run your fingers through.”

  Amy snapped her fingers. “Snap out of it. You don’t want a boyfriend, remember? You’re not interested in Scott that way, remember? Now, what about this Michael character? I thought you didn’t want to date anyone right now. Why is it all right with him?”

  “Well, for one thing, I’m not taking a class with Michael. I might only see him once or twice a week, at most. Scott and I see each other almost every night, either at class or to study. I just think it would be kind of risky to mix business with pleasure, if you know what I mean.”

  “What does Michael look like?”

  “Only one word describes Michael: beautiful. Sexy.”

  “That’s two words, and I don’t like beautiful men. I want to be the pretty one in the relationship. So, you have a big birthday coming up, the big 2-9.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “You’re only 29 once.”

  “Who says?” Katherine said, smiling.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Christian stood by the fireplace holding his scotch. He’d spent the better part of the last hour greeting his guests as they arrived, or mingling with the ones who already had. He wanted to take a step back and savor the moment. He’d come a long way from the orphanage. He knew Sister Ann would be proud if she were still alive. He’d worked with Teddy as a shoe clerk and a store manager, and they’d even gone into business together. He was a self-made millionaire, and now he was retiring.

  Sixty-five seemed too young, but he’d had a heart attack and the doctor had blamed stress. CTS (for Christian, Teddy, and Sophia), the company they’d created together, had multiple contracts, and dealing with the red tape had worn him out. He looked over at Teddy and Sophia. Everyone seemed happy. He glanced over at Jeanette Churchill, his secretary. Even at a party, she was stern and formidable-looking. Had he ever seen her dressed in something casual? She knew him almost as well as any wife would have, but after all of their years together, she was still an enigma to him.

  His eyes wandered toward the fire. He owned expensive paintings and other costly artwork, but what he valued more than any of those things sat on the mantle: a small, inconspicuous box that most people wouldn’t look at twice. But it held two gold coins. It was the gift his mother had given him decades earlier. He’d recently discovered that, because of their rarity, the coins were worth a lot of money, but that meant nothing to him. They were his most prized possession, a link to the mother he’d never stopped loving even though she’d left him behind. He could still picture her face and the tears in her eyes.

  A few hours later, Christian shuffled his last guest out the door. He poured himself another scotch and sat in a leather chair by the fire. He took a pair of glasses out of his shirt pocket. He ate healthily and exercised often—on a good day, he could almost outrun men half his age—but his eyesight was another matter. Even with glasses, he saw things best from a distance.

  He stood. Something wasn’t right. The box was cockeyed.

  Well, someone might have taken a look. No harm in that.

  The coins were gone. He grabbed the box and stared inside as if they’d suddenly appear where they were supposed to be. He shoved the other items aside, fury and panic setting in. Who would dare steal from him? Nobody knew how much the coins were worth except him and Jeanette. She was the one who’d told him.

  Christian ran to a room at the back of the house. Inside was the surveillance system that the insurers of his artwork had recently talked him into buying. After ten minutes, he saw an image that stunned him: Jeanette had taken the box and returned it a few minutes later. He told himself to be calm, that there was a legitimate reason why she’d taken them; that they’d have a good laugh over his panic. He was still angry, but since he couldn’t fathom someone so close stealing from him, he began to calm down. He grabbed his coat and left.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Monday morning, Katherine looked out her window, in no hurry to leave. It was still dark. Fall was nearly over. The trees still had some color, but the ground was covered with crunchy fallen leaves, and it was freezing outside. She pulled her second glove on, yanked her hat tightly around her ears and reluctantly left for work.

  She locked her door and turned toward the hardwood stairs, which gleamed. They’d obviously been polished recently. Just as she was about to walk downstairs, she dropped her keys. They skidded across the floor and tumbled down the stairs, clanging as they went. Katherine cringed and hoped the noise wouldn’t wake anyone. She checked her watch and whispered, “Yikes.”

  Her first step was her last. Frantically, she grabbed at the railings, her arms flailing. The stairs and the railings were more like slippery ice than wood. She heard herself scream and was embarrassed, more worried about how stupid she might look than the very real possibility that she might break her leg, or worse, her neck. She reached the landing in a few seconds but felt as if she’d fallen for much longer.

  She lay there, afraid to move, her arm between her face and the floor. Slowly she sat up and leaned against the wall, and then grabbed the railing, carefully this time. On shaky legs she walked back up to her apartment, slowly and deliberately. She felt as if every inch of her body had hit one stair or another. Her bathroom mirror revealed a large lump on her forehead and a fat lip, but before she could do anything about her injuries, she had to wash her hands. Whatever product they’d used to shine the stairs was all over them. She tried to be quiet. It was bad enough that she had to go to work looking like a war hero—she didn’t need Amy to wake up and make a fuss, too. The last thing she wanted to do was go to work, but since she was still so new, she was afraid to call in. She dabbed her lip with a warm washcloth and ran a brush through her hair. Before leaving the building, she placed a note on the wall at the top of the stairs, warning the other tenants, and an angry sticky note on the maintenance office door.

  At work, the reaction to her injuries was just what she’d expected. She wished her injuries weren’t from falling down stairs. Saying it made her feel foolish, and like a klutz. Everyone was concerned for her. Claire even suggested she leave early if she needed to.
/>   ***

  When Katherine walked into class Monday night, Scott was shocked.

  “What the heck happened to you?” he asked.

  “I fell down the stairs at my place,” answered Katherine, still feeling embarrassed.

  They sat down, and Scott turned toward Katherine. “Wow, you look like hell. Did you hit every stair with your face?”

  “Ha ha,” said Katherine, unconsciously touching the bruise near her eye.

  “But seriously, are you okay?”

  “I guess, but it was scary.”

  “I bet. You could have broken your neck.”

  Scott watched as she rummaged through her purse. He smiled. She never remembered to bring something to write with.

  “Here.” He handed her a pen. “Turn it upside down,” he whispered.

  When she did, gold glitter swirled inside it.

  “Keep it. My gift to you, but don’t forget to bring it with you.”

  After class, as Scott walked Katherine to her car, he suggested she meet him at the diner near their apartments and she agreed.

  ***

  At the restaurant, both were quiet. Katherine took a sip of water and drummed her fingers on the table.

  “So,” she said, trying to sound casual, “are you going to see that woman again?”

  “You mean Verna? Yes, no reason not to. You going to see that guy again?”

  “Michael? Absolutely. Looking forward to it.”

  Usually talkative, they had a quiet dinner. Finally, Scott said, “Do you want to do something when we’re done?

  “Sure, what about a show downtown?”

  “Nah, too loud.”

  “A nightclub?”

  “Too many people.”

  “Okay grandpa, where do you want to go?”

  “How about we rent a movie, order a pizza, and just hang out at your place?”