by Karen Young
“You got that right.”
Nick gave him a sharp look. “You want to explain that?”
Ward drew in a breath and looked squarely at Nick. “Tell me something, Nick. Why did you stop those special sessions with Coach Tyson?”
“We’re changing the subject here? What, are you bored?”
“Just answer me.”
Frowning, Nick lifted a shoulder. “I told you. I didn’t like the rest of the team thinking I was getting special treatment. If I made the team on my own, fine. Otherwise, I wasn’t sure it was worth it.”
“And that’s it? That’s all? There wasn’t anything else?”
Nick looked at him and suddenly it dawned on him. “Like what, Ward?”
Ward’s eyes slid away, fixed on his feet. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Just…anything else.”
“Like maybe Coach wanted to feel me up?”
“Did he?” Ward asked, meeting his eyes again. “Was that why you quit?”
“He didn’t—but not because he didn’t want to. I think he did, but he didn’t get around to that kind of stuff before I quit.” Beside Ward on the grass now, Nick picked up the tennis ball, examining it. “He made me uncomfortable. There was just something about him, about the way he insisted on demonstrating a handhold or a grip or a stance, whatever, but he’d have to touch me to do it. It gave me the creeps.”
“You never said anything.”
“Because it never came to anything. It didn’t crystallize in my mind until—” He stopped, remembering his promise not to tell. He shrugged. “It was just a feeling.”
Ward was coming alive now, eyeing him hard. “Was Coach Monk at that party?”
“If so, we never saw each other.” It wasn’t quite a lie, but he didn’t break his word to Cam and his mom, either. “Why, Ward? Are you thinking there’s something rotten in the locker room besides Ferdy’s sneakers?”
Ward dropped his eyes. And Nick knew then. “Okay,” Nick said, after a long study of his friend’s face. “For what it’s worth, if you want to talk about this, Cam’s the man. Or my mom.” He tossed the ball aside. “But for right now, you tell me what’s going on. After what you did last night, Kristin has put me in the same box with you, and I need to know where you’re coming from before I go back and try to make things right with her.”
“I’ve gotta go see her and apologize,” Ward said, getting to his feet.
“Forget it, man. She gets one look at you within a block of her door, she’s gonna call a cop.”
“Like I said, maybe that’s what I deserve.”
Marta reached over and helped herself to a warm muffin. “We spent the day laying tile in Pete’s kitchen and then we ordered pizza because we were both too pooped to even make a sandwich.” Breaking it open, she took a bite and closed her eyes. “Hmm, it was so romantic.”
“It could be if you’re with the one you love,” Rachel said. Resting her chin on her fist, she looked across the way where Cam and Pete collaborated in an effort to repair Dinah’s riding lawn mower. Earlier, Cam had called to say he was going to pick up a Sunday New York Times and was there anything she needed. Since Nick had been gone an hour on a trip that should have taken thirty minutes, she suspected there would be no cantaloupe or strawberries to go with her muffins unless she took Cam up on his offer. And when he came back, Pete and Marta were with him.
“If I wasn’t such a nice guy,” Cam had told her in a low voice as he handed over the fruit, “I’d make you pay up on that bet we made last night.”
“They were at Kroger’s,” she’d whispered, sending a surreptitious glance outside to the patio where Pete and Marta sat close together on the swing. “You don’t know they spent the night together.”
Cam had tipped up her chin and given her a slow kiss. “Keep up that naiveté, sugar. It turns me on.”
Flustered, she’d sent him out with the muffins in a basket and busied herself putting the coffee tray together. If he could tell what Pete and Marta had been up to this weekend, they’d probably be able to tell what she and Cam had been up to. And probably the only person shocked by what they’d been up to was Rachel herself.
“Speaking of being with the one you love,” Marta said, reaching for a dewy strawberry, “what’s up with you and Cam?”
So much for fooling Marta. “I don’t get the connection,” Rachel said.
Marta shot her an amused look. “Hello? This is your old friend, Rachel. The connection is, you were looking at Cam the way my female students look at Ben Affleck. Like he’s a buffet and you’ve been on a diet.”
Rachel groaned and put her hand to her forehead. “Is it that obvious?”
Marta chuckled. “Yeah, and I think it’s great. For what it’s worth, he can’t keep his eyes off you, either. What have the two of you been up to this weekend, for heaven’s sake? Dinah and I leave you unchaperoned for two days and you hop in the sack with the second sexiest man in Rose Hill.”
“You don’t know that!”
“I know Pete’s the sexiest.”
“I mean,” Rachel said patiently, “that you don’t know we were…you know.”
“What I don’t know is this,” Marta said, licking powdered sugar off one finger. Graham, the cat, walked over and she gave him a piece of muffin. “How the heck can you blush like that over sex when you deal with teenagers five days a week who constantly discuss—and practice—every aspect of human sexuality and especially how to do the nasty?”
“Can we change the subject?”
“If you haven’t done it yet, it won’t be long.” Marta grinned wickedly. “And I can’t wait until Ted finds out.”
“He’s already suspicious. In fact, he accused me of fooling around with Cam. Can you believe that? He actually seemed outraged. If I hadn’t been so irritated, I would have laughed.”
“When was this?”
“Friday night. After we left Pete’s house. Francine, it seems, is getting cold feet. She and Walter are reconciling.”
“What goes around comes around.”
“He wants me to help him make amends to Nick and Kendy. Seems he woke up and noticed he has two kids and wants to be a father again.”
“Sure. You’ll do that. For their sake, not his.”
“Yes.” Rachel rose and poured herself fresh coffee from the thermos carafe. “He was upset, but I couldn’t tell if it was because she was dumping him or it’s dawned on him he’s tossed away his family, his career and his reputation in this town for a—”
“Slut.”
“A temporary infatuation is what I was going to say.”
“Oh, please. She’s a slut.” After a bit, Marta said, “It’s one thing to patch things up with the kids, but I hope you aren’t tempted to let him back into your life again, are you?”
Rachel’s gaze strayed to Cam and Pete across the way. “When it first happened, I thought he was having a midlife crisis and that he’d come to his senses. I thought perhaps we’d be able to work through the problems that had driven him away. Which was reasonable since I’m a counselor by profession.”
“And your middle name is reasonable,” Marta said dryly.
“But as time passed, I found myself hoping he wouldn’t come to his senses. What kind of father would do what he did and then show so little concern for its effect on his children? And while we were struggling financially and emotionally as a result of what he did, Ted was utterly focused on how it messed up his life. You have to wonder what kind of man is that?” She put up a hand as Marta opened her mouth. “That was a rhetorical question, Marta.”
“So, no second chances for Teddy?”
“No.” Rachel tasted her coffee and made a face when it was cold. “Not even for the sake of the children.”
“This is so crazy,” Marta said, pushing a few crumbs around with her finger. “Do you notice the similarity here? Both of us totally trusting of our men and so unprepared when we discovered they were cheating. Now you’re saying no way Ted is going to get
a second chance and I’m saying the opposite.” After a pause, she looked up at Rachel. “Pete’s scheme to get me back in bed worked. I spent the whole damn weekend with him.”
Rachel smiled. “I’m shocked.”
“After you and Cam left, he drove me home, just as he planned.” She brushed the crumbs into a neat little pile. “Only this time, when we got to my door, I let him come inside. The rest, as they say, is history.”
“You look happy, Marta.”
“Go figure. I think I knew if I ever let my guard down, I wouldn’t be able to resist him. I even think the reason I married Jorge so quickly was to avoid dealing with Pete, which is a little different from hastily marrying on the rebound, as you suspected.” Her fidgeting stopped. “Jorge Ruiz was the sweetest, kindest, most dependable man who ever lived on this earth, Rachel. And I knew he’d be as constant as the stars in the heavens. What I felt for him was so safe compared to what I feel for Pete.” Frowning, she swept the crumbs into a napkin and folded it up. “With Pete, I don’t know if I’m coming or going. I love the way he looks, I love the way he smells. I love that macho manner of his. I love to hear him singing in the shower and cussing when he can’t find his keys. Nobody can make me so mad or so happy. Or so turned on. When we made love, it was so wonderful I cried.”
“But did you talk?”
“Yes, Doctor, we talked. He really didn’t have an affair with Tanya. He never went out with her after we split up, so I guess he didn’t have a thing for her after all. And he hasn’t had a significant relationship since we broke up.” Her gaze wandered over to Pete, tinkering with the mower. “The big bone of contention between us was his job and how I hated it. So when we got around to talking about that, he said something that really made me stop and think. He said what if he had demanded that I give up teaching. I would have been insulted. I love what I do. Nothing’s as satisfying to me as those moments—rare, but they happen—when I see a student suddenly get it, the beauty of literature, I mean. And eagerly wants to know more, to read more. I have opened the door to the world for that student. It’s a heady thing. What if Pete had said you don’t make much money teaching and why don’t you get a job in the corporate world? You could write technical manuals. Or give seminars on how to write technical manuals. Don’t laugh, I’m serious,” she said when Rachel pressed her fingers to her mouth.
“Because that’s exactly what I was doing to Pete. Not only was I pushing him to give up a profession he loved, but I went even further and told him what I thought he should do instead. He’d hate being a lawyer, Rachel. Lawyers are the bane of any cop’s existence and I knew that. What was I thinking?” She pushed her coffee cup toward Rachel.
Rachel collected their cups and stacked them on the tray. “There’s often a difference in the way men and women think of their work. For some men, the job defines who they are. Women are less likely to invest so much of their personal identity in a career.” She picked up the tray. “They give it time and energy, because there are some career choices that demand it, but there’s also kids and their activities, the home and church, social commitments.”
Marta again looked over to where the two men were now in the process of reassembling the lawn mower, knowing her feelings for Pete showed on her face. “I’d love all that if Pete and I were together, but most of all, I’d love to have his babies.”
“Marta,” Rachel said gently, touched by the look on her face, “you can.”
“If I’m lucky. It has taken only two days to make me admit that I never stopped loving Pete. When I caught him in bed with Tanya, it gave me a legitimate reason to wimp out before I became the wife of a cop, because I knew that if he got killed, I wouldn’t be able to survive it.” She brought her gaze around to meet Rachel’s. “That may sound like psycho-babble, but I honestly think it’s true.”
“So you cut off your nose to spite your face.”
Marta laughed shortly. “You shrinks are so profound.”
“Then here’s another thought or two from this shrink, after which I won’t say another word.” Rachel held the loaded tray, ready to go inside. “I think the way Pete has gone about making amends for his mistake shows real character. He’s been single-minded in winning you back, paying a price careerwise that many men would not have considered. And, for what it’s worth, I also think he’s every bit as dependable and constant a man as Jorge Ruiz.”
Marta’s eyes were still focused across the way. “But he’s not safe, Rachel.”
Rachel stood holding the tray, her eyes also on the men. No, but she’d felt safe in her marriage with Ted and it had been anything but. As she watched, Cam reached over and hit the starter on the mower. The motor fired up instantly. He looked up, saw her looking and gave a thumbs-up. Marta must make her own decision, but for herself, she would never again settle for safe.
Twenty-Three
After it happened, Nick felt like a dope for getting himself into a situation where two goons could bushwhack him. He was pedaling along with the cantaloupe and strawberries, congratulating himself on playing the role of peacemaker by talking Ward out of a lost cause—going over to beg Kristin’s forgiveness—when he looked over his shoulder and saw the pickup.
Whoa, he thought, way too close. And he hadn’t worn a helmet, getting out of the garage too fast to take time to put it on. He turned back for another quick look, but the sun was reflected on its windshield, almost blinding him. Without a doubt the driver was crowding him. Dumb ass, was his fragmented thought as he made a wild maneuver off the shoulder, skirting a ditch that was pretty steep. Another look and his eyes went wide with shock as he realized the pickup meant to use him as a hood ornament. It was either jump or be mowed over, so he leaped from his bike, flying over the handlebars just as the truck’s bumper struck. He tucked instinctively into a body roll, but he hit the ground hard, anyway, bouncing his head off something that rang his bell, big time.
He lay for a minute with the wind knocked out of him, seeing stars and thinking he was maybe dying. While he struggled to breathe, he thought about the cantaloupe and strawberries and figured they were history. As he’d nearly been. Then, as his breath returned and his head cleared, he realized he was flat on the ground and two men were standing over him. Two really big dudes.
But he must have got a serious knock on the head because he couldn’t make out their faces, only that they looked strange, like aliens. Then he figured out why. Although they each wore baseball caps, they had stockings pulled over their heads mashing their faces flat. Okay, he was hallucinating because when you were in an accident, people were supposed to help you. Instead, these two stood there as if lending him a hand was going to be a committee decision, like not happening.
“He’s coming around,” the biggest of the pair said. “Guess he coulda broke something.”
“We were told not to mark him,” the other said, sounding ticked off. He wore a Harley Hog T-shirt and looked mean. “You can be the one to explain when he asks what happened. And we gotta hurry before anybody drives up. Just because it’s Sunday doesn’t mean somebody won’t come along.”
Big Guy ran his hands over Nick’s arms and legs. Still dazed, Nick wasn’t able to object. “He’s all right. Gettin’ his wind back now.”
Harley Hog peered over in the ditch where the remains of Nick’s bike lay. “Get the fuckin’ bike,” he ordered his partner. “Throw it in the truck and let’s get this little prick back home to his mommy before somebody shows up and wants to help.”
“You gonna deliver the message?” Big Guy asked, making no move to get the bike.
“Yeah, I’m gonna deliver the message,” Harley said sarcastically, “but not until he’s able to listen. He’s still groggy. Plenty of time since we’re gonna drop him near his house on account of you catapulting him into the ditch.”
“What’s…” Nick, up on one elbow now, spat out a mouthful of grass and grit. “What’s going on? Who are you?”
“Bitchin’ already,” Harley said wit
h disgust. He grabbed Nick’s elbow and jerked him up on his feet. “You’ve been a pain in the ass, Forrester. Get in the truck.”
In spite of the whirling landscape, Nick preferred taking a chance on making it back on his own to hitching a ride with these two. “Thanks, but I think I can make it.”
“How? Ridin’ this?” Big Guy emerged from the ditch carrying the bike. The back wheel was bent at a crooked angle and the broken chain dangled from the crank set like a dead snake. “I don’t think so.” He tossed it into the truck.
“Get in the truck,” Harley repeated in an “or else” tone.
Limping and truly scared now, Nick did as told. A hand at his butt boosted him and he found himself crunched between the two men. So far, he had no idea who they were or what was going down. Or why. He had a wild thought that he was being kidnapped, but these two didn’t seem like kidnappers. Besides, there was no reason to kidnap him. His mom hardly had enough money to pay their bills. But what was that about giving him a message? From who? About what?
Harley, now driving, said, “We’re two minutes from your house, asshole. So, listen up. You went to the party at Sims’s place this weekend. You had a good time. You did not see anything that you didn’t love. You gettin’ the picture?”
“Aah…”
Big Guy gave his shoulder a hard shake. “You get the picture?”
Wincing, Nick managed to nod.
“You recognized no one,” Harley said, eyes straight ahead on the road. “You could not name the guests if asked, because if you did, you would never be able to play baseball again.”
He wasn’t going to play baseball anymore, anyway, Nick thought. Not after what he saw Coach doing. “Okay,” he said. “Not a problem.”