In Perfect Time

by Sarah Sundin

  One of the many reasons Roger had always enjoyed drumming was so he could avoid dancing and its temptations. But today, as his drumsticks swished a soft rhythm to “Dearly Beloved,” he longed to be part of the humanity on the dance floor.

  Couples swayed to the music, some stiff, some making goo-goo eyes at each other, some practiced and comfortable. Roger was tired of being alone and remote and removed.

  He tried not to watch Kay and Mike and to keep his gaze on Georgie and Hutch. The first time the newlyweds had ever danced together, Georgie said, but they moved as one.

  Roger’s gaze drifted to Kay. She kept her back to him, but the slight slump of her shoulders said she was still upset. In a flash, she swiped at her cheek. Ah, swell. He’d made her cry? At her friend’s wedding?

  That great urge to comfort her expanded inside him, but he’d lost that privilege. Never again would he stroke her back as she cried. Never again would they sit together on a snowy night and tap Morse code to each other. He’d lost those rights and many more.

  No, he hadn’t lost the rights. He’d given them away to a good man, and it was time Roger accepted it.

  Down on the dance floor, Mike met Roger’s eye, and he shrugged, one corner of his mouth sunken in resignation. He inclined his head toward the lady in his arms and shook his head. He was giving up?

  Somehow Roger kept drumming, but he shook his head too. No, don’t give up.

  Mike gave a firm nod, cocked his head to Roger, then back to Kay. He was backing off and giving Roger another chance. Something in the determined set of Mike’s jaw and the soft acceptance in his eyes said that even if Roger didn’t step in, Mike would still step back.

  Roger’s head kept shaking side to side, his heartbeat accelerated, and he had to use every ounce of training to keep his drumbeat steady.

  Another chance? Now what?

  Mike had asked what he’d do if he had another chance. What would he do? He’d never even considered the possibility.

  Kay was furious with him, upset, humiliated, and she thought he’d lied. He couldn’t do anything at all.

  She furtively wiped her eyes again, and Roger’s heart wrenched at her emotion. On the bond tour she’d shown no emotion at all in his presence, but now . . . ?

  Now her mask had slipped. Now the truth was revealed. She cared. She might hate him, but she still loved him.

  Roger’s breath hopped around, and his palms moistened. Knowing she cared, he could work with her anger, with her grief, with her humiliation, but he had to move quickly before the wall of apathy rose again.

  Now was the perfect moment. And yet the timing couldn’t be worse.

  Despite the song’s sleepy rhythm, his clammy fingers slipped on the drumsticks. How could he tell her he loved her? She wouldn’t give him five minutes alone and wouldn’t listen to one word out of his mouth. And she certainly wouldn’t want to hear what he had to say.

  As he watched her dance with her head bowed, a sense of peace and rightness fell over him. Either God was offering him her love, or Roger was deluded.

  If he was deluded, he’d go out in a foolish blaze of glory. At least Kay would know she was more than good enough for the likes of Roger Cooper.

  And if he wasn’t deluded, Roger would be an even greater fool to turn away from this chance.

  This time he’d reach out for that gift, no matter what.

  55

  Another stupid tear dribbled out, and Kay rubbed it away discreetly. Why wouldn’t her eyes stop leaking? Why couldn’t she control herself?

  Today, and for the next seven weeks, she had to live with the consequences of her outburst in the car. Her carefully built façade of not caring for Roger lay in ruins.

  Mike rocked her back and forth to the music, never making her face the band, but every thud of Roger’s drums shot painful vibrations through her heart.

  She could still see his face in the car, the regret in his eyes. He hadn’t lied to her back in Naples. He’d chosen teaching when he was on his furlough, after he’d pushed her away. He’d planned to tell her when he arrived in Tulsa. First thing, he said.

  Why would he have been so eager? Only one reason came to mind, the girlish fantasy that he loved her and wanted to be with her, and he couldn’t wait to tell her of his choice so they could be together forever and he could give her a home and a family.

  An odd little whimper bubbled in her throat, but Mike didn’t seem to notice over the music. Good heavens, she had to control herself.

  In Tulsa, Roger saw her with Mike and didn’t want to interfere. Was that it? Was that why he hadn’t told her he’d switched career plans? Out of a gentlemanly sense of honor not to interfere with a friend’s budding romance?

  He hadn’t lied. On the contrary, he was noble and loyal.

  The music changed tempo, and the band launched into “It Had to Be You.”

  Stupid tears. She dipped her head to Mike’s shoulder to conceal her face-wiping.

  “Thank you, Kay,” Mike said.

  She blinked and looked up at him. “Thank you? For what?”

  He raised half a smile and rubbed his thumb over her cheek.

  Kay winced at being caught blubbering.

  “Thank you,” he said, “for giving me a chance. But it’s not working. It’s not going anywhere.”

  She forced out a laugh. “I’m just having a bad day. I’ll try to—”

  “Try to what? Try to love me as you love Coop?”

  “I don’t love—”

  “Yes, you do.” Mike eased back and gripped her by the shoulders. “All the time I’ve known you, no one has made you happier, sadder, or angrier than Coop. I’m just in the background, a friend.”

  She raised a twitchy shrug. “ I—I do like you. You’re very nice.”

  “But you don’t love me and you never will.” His eyes were so earnest, always earnest. “And that’s okay.”

  More protests formed on her tongue, but she couldn’t lie to him. “I’m sorry.”

  “I said it’s okay. I don’t want this anymore. I thought I did, but I don’t.” He squeezed her shoulders, a new confidence in his expression. “I want a woman to choose me because I’m Mike Elroy. I don’t want to be chosen because I’m not Roger Cooper.”

  Kay scrunched her eyes shut. “Oh dear. I wasn’t using you, I promise.”

  “I know. You were straight with me from the start. I appreciate that. But I want something more. I want someone to talk late into the night with, like you and Coop used to do. I want someone to work with, finishing each other’s sentences, feeding off each other’s ideas, like you and Coop used to do.”

  “Used to do.” Her voice came out small, as the lyrics for “It Had to Be You” loomed large in her head. Had Roger spoiled her for any other man?

  Mike got a cryptic smile on his face and glanced around the dance floor. “Oh, I think you’ll find things can change.”

  “No.” She had to speak louder over a general murmur in the room. “He doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I certainly don’t want anything to do with him.”

  Mike released her shoulders, nodded toward the bandstand, and backed away. All around, couples paused in their dancing and stared at the musicians.

  Kay’s ears tuned in to the music. Something was wrong. The drumbeat didn’t match the song. In fact, it clashed. Roger pounded, “Thump-tap-thump. Thump-tap-thump.” The bass drum, the snare, the bass. Over and over.

  What was he doing? She turned, and he riveted her with the most intense, determined look. Thump-tap-thump. Dash-dot-dash.

  The letter K.

  Her mouth flopped open. He was signaling her? Now? Here? Why?

  Roger gave her a long, slow nod, but the intensity of his gaze never wavered. Memories flooded back to her, cherished and intimate memories—Roger kissing her forehead and tapping “R-U-N” on her shoulder, the silly messages they’d send when he sat on night guard, the way he ran down the hospital ward to her with the same expression in his eyes. />
  Kay stood alone, without a partner, on the crowded dance floor, and the murmuring couples shifted their attention from the errant drummer to Kay and back again.

  He pointed one drumstick at her, like a teacher with a ruler, telling her to listen up or get her knuckles slapped. Then he changed his beat. Dot-dot. The letter I.

  What was he doing? And why here? Why now?

  Dot-dash-dot-dot—L.

  The song toppled apart, and the musicians laid their instruments across their laps, giving each other quizzical looks.

  Dash-dash-dash—O.

  Kay held her breath. He wouldn’t dare say that. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

  Dot-dot-dot-dash—V.

  Behind the intensity in his eyes lay tenderness she’d never seen before. He was. Oh goodness, he was indeed saying what she thought. How could he? After all this time?

  Dot—E.

  The bandleader marched toward the drum set, the room buzzed, and everyone stared at Roger, at Kay, at Roger, at Kay.

  Dash-dot-dash-dash—Y.

  All her emotions rolled together into an indecipherable muddle. Part of her wanted to yield to her love, throw herself onto his lap—right there at the drum set—and kiss him over and over.

  Dash-dash-dash—O.

  But every time she ran to him, opened her heart to him, he rejected her, shoved her away. Never again. Never again would she let this man hurt her.

  Dot-dot-dash—U.

  Fire rose inside her. The old proverb said, “Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.” There would not be a third time. Kay spun away and raced for the door.

  “Kay! Kay, wait!”

  Heavens, no. She stormed down the hallway and outside, where palm trees waved over flower-lined paths under warm spring sun.

  She’d call a cab and get away, run away, anywhere, it didn’t matter. No more bond tours for her. Let the Army catch her and lock her up for all she cared. At least she’d be away from Roger Cooper.

  “Kay!” His voice thundered behind her.

  “Don’t you come near me.” Her skirts tangled around her ankles as she strode away from the main hotel building toward little bungalows with sea-blue roofs, where Georgie and Hutch would spend their honeymoon.

  “Stop and listen to me. Please, Kay.”

  “I can’t think of one reason why I should.” Green and blue swam together in her vision.

  “I can think of one reason—so you don’t fall in the pool.”

  Kay wiped her eyes. A pool, not three feet away. She sucked in a breath and stopped short.

  “I take your reaction as confirmation that you received my message.” Humor rang in his voice.

  Humor? How dare he? She wheeled to face him. “I got your message, all right. I got the message that you—you’re a snake. That’s what you are. A copperhead snake.”

  A smile jumped onto his face. “Haven’t heard that one for a while.”

  “That’s surprising. It suits you.”

  “You suit me too. I’m in love with you.”

  A growl rose in her throat, and she marched away, paralleling the pool, past half a dozen sunbathers on lounge chairs gawking at her.

  “Fine. Run and listen. I’m still having my say.”

  If only she could run in these heels. But even if she took them off and tossed them in the pool, he’d catch up with her. “Go away.”

  “After I’m done, but I’ve just started. I should have done this months ago, told you how I feel. I do love you, with everything in me.”

  “Nonsense.” She turned onto a path that led between the bungalows, following the sea breeze toward the beach.

  “I do. I love you so much. The past few months I’ve felt like someone chopped off my leg. I’m incomplete without you.”

  She passed a bungalow, and her mouth contorted. “How dare you? I won’t let you draw me in again and then . . .”

  “And push you away? Never again. I’m done resisting. From the day we met, I resisted my attraction to you. After I came back from India, I resisted falling in love with you. Then I resisted telling you how I feel. But no more. I’m done. I’m yours, Kay. I’m yours if you want me.”

  “I don’t.” Now it was her turn to resist, and it wouldn’t be difficult.

  “Kay, the road. Watch out.”

  She gasped and halted. Was the man trying to kill her?

  Roger pulled up beside her and bowed his head. “May I escort you across the street, my lady?”

  She shot him a glare, looked both ways, and strode across the street. “I hope you get hit by a car.”

  “Sounds like a plan. You’re a nurse. You’ll stop and take care of me.”

  Why did he keep following her? Why did he sound so annoyingly good-natured? “I told you to go away.”

  “Not until I’ve said my piece. I’ve known I was in love with you since we were in France. At Mellie’s wedding, I wanted to kiss you. You have no idea how much I wanted to, but I was afraid I’d get carried away and ruin you like I ruined my girlfriend in high school.”

  She wouldn’t let him sway her. She wouldn’t. Up onto the curb and into a forest of short palm trees. She could smell the ocean, hear the waves.

  “My love for you grew during the evasion. That kiss—I meant it, Kay. I meant it. But I couldn’t see a future with you. I didn’t want to drag you around on tours and make you miserable.”

  “Strange.” She weaved around the palm trees. “You didn’t ask me how I felt about it. You forgot I was raised on the road, in tents. I could’ve handled it, but you didn’t even ask.”

  “I didn’t.” His voice lowered. “I’m sorry, darling.”

  Darling? He had no right. Brushing aside palm branches and arguments, she charged ahead.

  “Now I can finish saying what I started in the car. I chose teaching for two reasons. First, because I like to teach and honestly think I’ll be good at it, maybe even reach the kids who hate school.”

  Even though she agreed, she refused to nod and reduce the stiffness of her spine.

  “But the second—Kay! Stop!”

  Her foot slipped, and she scrambled backward. The land dropped off before her into a steep bluff.

  From behind, Roger laid his hands on her shoulders. “If you keep running from me, you’re going to get hurt.”

  Far below, a wide sandy beach sloped to the blue Pacific, flaming under the setting sun, but no path wound down the bluff to allow her access. She was stuck with Roger, the warmth of his hands relaxing her shoulders and eroding her resistance. But if she stopped running from him, she could get hurt even worse.

  She tightened her muscles. “Let go of me.”

  “When I’m done.” His breath ruffled her hair and melted her insides.

  She could get away. His grip was gentle, and she knew him too well. If she darted to the side, he’d let her go.

  Yet she felt bound. Bound by the weight of his hands, his solid presence only inches behind her, their long and deep friendship, the trials they’d faced . . . and curiosity. “Finish up then. Make it quick.”

  “All right.” He brushed his cheek against her hair. “The second reason I chose teaching is because I love you. I want to marry you and have a family and a home, and I want to spend—”

  “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare offer—” Her voice broke, and she clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes stinging.

  Roger eased her back from the cliff, turned her to face him, and rested his hands on her waist. “Don’t offer you what? Love, marriage, a home? I am. I’m offering you all of that.”

  She couldn’t look at him, at his molten eyes, at his chest inching nearer, at his lips speaking impossible words. “Don’t you dare,” she said, her voice muffled by her fingers.

  He eased her hand down from her mouth and smiled. “Don’t dare what? Kiss you?”

  “If you do, I swear I’ll . . .” All the starch washed from her voice as he gathered her closer and closer.

  With one hand he
cupped her face. “Tell you what. The first time I kissed you, I pushed you away. This time you can push me away. Stomp on my foot, kick me in the kneecap, punch me in the gut, whatever you want.”

  “I don’t want you to kiss me.” She planted her hands on his chest, but her resolve drained away. He loved her. He’d pursued her.

  “It’ll only work if I kiss you. Then when you push me away, you’ll break my heart to pieces. Isn’t that what you want?”

  An oddly compelling bit of logic, almost as compelling as his mouth drawing nearer, as the message in his brown eyes. He’d drummed his love for her, spoken it out loud, but his eyes—his eyes said even more. If she let him kiss her . . .

  No, she couldn’t.

  “Please . . .” But her tongue couldn’t form the word don’t.

  He descended, and his lips covered hers, not with the desperate passion of their kiss in Italy, but with the gentleness of respect, of regret, of a lifetime of promises he longed to fill.

  The sweetness of the kiss paralyzed her. She couldn’t respond, not as she should, not as she wanted to.

  He sighed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “All right. I’m ready. Give me your best shot.”

  Kay clutched the olive drab lapels of his jacket, her mind woozy. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  He shrugged. “It’s what I expect.”

  Playfulness tugged at her lips. “Then I won’t. If it’s what you expect, I won’t do it.”

  Roger pulled back and studied her face until the spark of playfulness ignited in his own eyes. “You won’t? But how will you break my heart?”

  “Maybe . . .” She wrapped her arms around his neck, every sense full of him. “Maybe I could kiss you back, really kiss you, and then I could push you away.”

  “You’d do that to me? To your old friend? I’d be devastated.” Despite his teasing tone, his eyes said something more—that he really would be devastated. Because he loved her.

  “Oh, Roger.” Her voice choked, and she kissed the edge of his jaw, the manly roughness, and her fingers worked into his thick auburn hair. “I love you too. I do.”

  A moan rumbled in his throat, under her lips.

  Kay’s breath caught. Three times now, she’d played with his hair. Twice she’d confessed her love. Twice he’d pushed her away.