Dancing Ladies

by Marilyn Gardiner

  "Well,” Max nodded reluctantly. “I'll try."

  At Bree's he grabbed his Game Boy from the seat, kissed Kate goodbye and was off running up the walk to the apartment door.

  * * * *

  Once home, they let Babe out of his crate. They laughed together as he wriggled around them in welcome, face stretched in what had to be a doggie grin, tail wagging so furiously it threatening to swipe things off tables.

  "I'll put him out the back door before he demolishes the room,” Cass offered. “How big is he going to get, do you think?"

  Babe's excitement mounted at his favorite word, “out.” His toenails scrabbled frantically on the hardwood floor.

  "Not much bigger. He's seven months. Oh, look!” Kate bent over the orchid table. “The Twinkle Fantasy is going to bloom. It's a baby. Never bloomed before.” Carefully, she moved a leaf to peer closer. “The blossoms will look like tiny winged angels. They are so sweet."

  Cass looked, made the appropriate noises, and then assured Babe they were indeed going out. His cell phone rang as he left the room, and she could hear his voice answering as he went toward the back of the house.

  The orchid table was a mass of glorious and various colors of blossoms and healthy, glossy green foliage. She added some water to the gravel in the bottom of the tray and turned a few pots. Then, satisfied, she stood back to admire the sight. The orchids looked almost iridescent against the backdrop of lace curtain and an odd pearly glow of fading light from the window. The sky looked strange as the approaching storm neared. A shiver ran up Kate's spine.

  Cass poked his head around the door frame. “Are you all right here for a few minutes? I have an errand that won't wait. Won't be gone long. I want to beat the storm."

  "I'm fine. I don't need a babysitter."

  "That isn't what I meant, but I'll hurry. I don't like the looks of the sky.” And he was gone. The door closed behind him and she heard him taking the front steps two at a time. She smiled. He was always in a hurry. As bad as Max.

  And as good. And about as dear. For the first time she allowed herself to think just how dear he was, and her heart clenched like a fist in her chest. She cared more than she liked to think. He was every inch a man. Not counting muscles, abs and sheer breadth of body, he was about as “male” as a girl could possibly hope for. He even smelled like a man. Not sweat, although he worked as hard as any of his men and did raise a steam by the end of the day, but there was a unique male scent about him that wasn't all soap and water. It was just Cass. Again, she smiled. She liked it. Then she frowned. She did not think it was a good sign that she thought about the way he smelled even when he wasn't near.

  As long as she was considering his attributes, she ought to include that he was good with Max. He actually seemed to enjoy the boy. Anyone who voluntarily spent quality time with a seven-year-old boy couldn't be all bad, could he?

  And he was honest. Dependable. Caring, in small ways. The way he guided her with a hand in the small of her back when they left the house. His help in the kitchen as they worked together getting a meal on the table, reaching around each other companionably, tasting whatever bubbled on the stove, cleaning up after eating. His patience with Stacey and Max. His determination to protect her from the levee. His work ethic, strong and unflagging. She could go on. Yes, he was stubborn as a two-headed mule, as her father used to say, but then so was she about some things.

  She heaved a big breath and let it out slowly. To her surprise, what she felt about Cass included the word contentment. A gently swollen, very good, feeling. Oh Mom, where are you when I need you? What do I do with this good man? You were all too right about Huey, but what about Cass? And then she made a very unladylike sound. It would be insanity to put the two men in the same class. They were as near alike as a glacier and a bonfire.

  She wasn't thinking straight. None of this need be decided right now. But there was one pressing thing that did need to be done. The special wall hanging she'd agreed to do for Joe was finished and ought to be dry enough by now that she could package it for sending.

  The wall hanging, the rush job, was indeed ready to be rolled and sent. She loved the feel of the silk sliding through her fingers and critically admired what she'd done to make the piece beautiful. It was good, she thought, without pride. Damn good. I just have to bring it to the attention of the rest of the world. And Joe Kiniki was her ticket to prosperity. She laughed. At this point, he was her ticket to survival in her field. Crawling up the ladder of success, rung by rung, was a challenge she welcomed, but the stress involved was formidable. Even though Joe had prospects for her, including dresses for the entire female half of a wedding party, nothing was certain. She didn't dare get complacent. She never knew where the next commission was coming from.

  Kate had just finished sticking the address label on the package when Cass appeared at the door.

  "Let me in, lady. I come bearing gifts."

  In the distance thunder rumbled and the window lit with a brief flash of lightning. At the door, in the near dark, he stood grinning like Max with a handful of dandelions. Only he held a great pot of something swaddled in tissue paper.

  She opened the door. “Gifts? For me?"

  "Well, one gift anyway.” He handed her the pot. “Be careful. It's heavy."

  "What is it?"

  "Open it and find out.” The smile threatened to swallow his face.

  "Cass, you don't need to buy me presents. What have you done?"

  She put the pot on the table and carefully undid the tissue. Her sharp indrawn breath was a gasp of surprise and delight. “Oh Cass! It's beautiful!"

  She peeled the last of the paper away. “An orchid! You bought me an orchid!” Kate laughed as the long fronds waved with movement and set all the tiny blossoms to dancing.

  "Yup. I did that very thing. First, read the card."

  Slipping the small card from the wand which held it, she read, “From Someone Who Loves You."

  Her eyes flooded with tears. “Oh Cass. You shouldn't have."

  "It's been on order for weeks from the lady at that orchid show you wanted to go to, and it just came in. That was what the call was about. Jerry wanted to know if I needed it before she closed the shop for the night."

  Kate stood watching the dancing blossoms with one hand to her mouth. Her voice was quiet with awe. “It's a Sharry Baby. I can smell the chocolate from here.” She knew what these special plants cost. She dealt with them daily. One this size would have set him back a sizable sum. She'd fantasized about owning one for a long time.

  "That's what I ordered. Sharry Baby. That first time I came to the house and you showed me through, that's what you said you wanted. Do you like it?"

  "Like it? That isn't the right word. It's from the Oncidium family. This variety is a mericlone. See the yellow skirt and frilly wine-colored tops? Oh Cass, it's absolutely gorgeous! Thank you!"

  She turned and threw her arms around him in a spontaneous gesture of gratitude. When she would have withdrawn, his hands at her waist pulled her gently but firmly to him, closer and closer.

  His head bent to hers, his eyes suddenly and fiercely intent. His voice went husky. “It takes orchids to get a hug? Wonder what a diamond would get me?"

  His look was as black as his hair, curling over his forehead, and his gaze was so intent the smile lines fanning out from his eyes deepened. She felt his thumbs on her ribcage, moving in a circular motion. “What would a diamond get me, Katey-mine?” he asked, his voice rough.

  Before she could think how to answer, his head descended slowly and she forgot to think at all. His mouth was soft, brushing his lips over hers until her own mouth softened and she felt a sigh leave her. Oh yes. This was Cass. Dear, dear Cass. A rock against which she could safely brace her back and face the world.

  His hands still spanned her waist and his eyes, those stubby-lashed, dark eyes that she so loved were not laughing.

  "This house would be a nice place for the wedding."

 
; "Wedding?"

  "Our wedding."

  The air in the room seemed to disappear. Take it lightly. Don't panic. “Oh yeah? And just when had you planned this big event?"

  "Kate, I want to marry you. Whenever you say."

  "The second Tuesday of next week do?” She tried to lighten the moment, to distance herself from him, but he held her tight.

  "I'm serious. I want a life again. A family. I want a home to come to at night. I want kids around the table. I want to help someone with homework. You in bed with me when I wake up in the morning. I want a house where I can mow the lawn and a driveway where I can work on the car. I want to take care of you and Max. I want to teach the kid how to tackle around the knees and shoot three pointers from the corner of the court. I love him. I love you. I want us to be married."

  Kate tried to steady her breathing. He deserved more than a flip answer. This was the time for honesty and openness. She touched his cheek with her fingertips and let them trail down his jaw to his lips. Her head fell forward to rest on his chest. “Let's go out on the porch. I need more air for this kind of conversation."

  They went through the hall and the kitchen, where a tiny, shaded lamp glowed on the counter, and out onto the screened porch.

  No candles burned this night. The only light came from the dim lamp in the kitchen. The porch was dark. Beyond the screen, the wind had heightened, whipping long trailing fronds of the hanging asparagus fern back and forth. Deep charcoal, hanging clouds seethed against the nearly constant sheet lightning blossoming on the night horizon to the southwest.

  Kate picked up the cushions from the chairs and stacked them against the house. “Looks like we're going to get that storm after all."

  Cass took her arm. “I didn't come out here to talk about the weather. I want to know why you're dragging your feet about marrying me. I know you love me. I can see it in your eyes and feel it when I hold you. We're good together. And I don't just mean compatible. We're good at life. We compliment each other. I'd be good to you, honey. You know I would. And I'd love Max as the son I don't have, yet. Eventually, I'd like more children, if you would. But Max would always be my first son. Why are you hesitating?"

  Kate wrapped her arms around her middle and looked at him miserably. “It's true. All of it. I do love you and if there was ever to be another man in my life, you seem to be him. I never thought I'd ever find someone who I could trust Max with, be comfortable with myself, live with. I didn't want to love again. Because when you give yourself in love, there's the potential for so much hurt."

  "I won't hurt you, Kate. You must know that. I'd never hurt you. Never."

  "Not intentionally. I believe that. But there are so many ways we could hurt each other."

  He threw his hands wide. “You can't go through life throwing happiness away because of what might happen. You'll end up lonely and bitter and missing all of the beauty life has to offer. You can't do that, Kate."

  "I wish I could love you just a little. It would be easier. But I don't. What I feel for you is so much more than that. And I'm almost willing to gamble that we could make it work. But Cass, I'm scared. What about my history with men? What about Leah? You can't just blow off problems. They have to be solved. And I'm not sure either one of these things will ever be solved."

  He threw up his hands. “What ‘history'? My God, Kate, you're talking about one man. One man! That doesn't constitute much of a history."

  "It's a lot to me and Max."

  "But it's over now. Huey is not going to be a problem ever again. I can guarantee it. We'd want no child support. After what just happened, there wouldn't be visiting rights for a long time, if ever. I give you my word I'll take care of the two of you. Huey is no longer your burden alone. We, you and I and Stacey, are Max's family. I'll be his dad. And I'll do my damnedest to be a good one. Now that Huey knows he can't get his hands on this house and bleed you for money, I have my doubts that he'll ask to see much of Max anyway. Huey is a name from the distant past for us. Believe it!"

  A vicious gust of wind pulled at them, whipping Kate's hair across her face. The trellis at the corner of the porch rattled against the screen. Abruptly, the screen door opened and slammed shut. There was a smell of imminent rain in the air.

  She nodded, her eyes swimming with tears, and threaded her fingers through her hair to smooth it back. “I'd like to. I'll try. I really will. But there's still Leah. How can we deal with a ghost? There isn't anything to be done!"

  "I don't honestly know how we'll beat her, but fighting her together will be more powerful than you all by yourself. The first thing we'll have to do, I'm afraid, is move out of the house. How would you feel about that?"

  She sniffled inelegantly. “I don't know. I love the house. And I don't want to ‘fight Leah,’ as you put it. I have a funny feeling about her. Maybe we're interpreting these happenings all wrong."

  He made a face of disbelief. “How else could we interpret them?"

  "I'm not sure, but I have an occasional feeling that she's trying to warn me of something."

  "Warn you of what?"

  "If I knew I'd feel a lot better. The other night in the rain, in the car. That was a clear warning. And there is the dream of my own tombstone with the date of my death already chiseled in. Which, incidentally, I haven't forgotten is today. Thank God nothing has happened, but early this morning I wasn't so sure."

  "But honey,” Cass said. “It is after all a dream. Just a bad dream."

  "Maybe. I'm beginning to think that could have been a warning, too. The first minute we walked into the house, Leah was here, definitely warning me of something, although I surely didn't think that at the time. I wonder, now, if I might have misinterpreted that look from the mirror. Was Leah expressing, not anger or hatred like I had thought, but fear of something? Not that she, herself, was fearful, but that she was trying to tell me I ought to be afraid, watchful, for something."

  Cass frowned. “You knew her in a way I didn't. Do you really believe this?"

  "And when these things happen, the scent of gardenias is always present. Her favorite scent. It's as if she's still with me in some uncanny way."

  Cass's frown deepened. “What about the way she makes herself known when I get too close to you? Isn't that a warning too? Of another kind, maybe?"

  "Did you notice? When you kissed me just now, in the house, nothing happened."

  Wind gusted about them, flattening their clothes against their bodies. On the patio, a flower pot blew over. Kate scarcely noticed.

  "Yeah. What's that signify?"

  Kate shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine."

  "Could she have been warning you all along about old T. Roy's planned deception?"

  "Somehow that hardly seems a big enough issue to bring her spirit out of wherever it's been all these years. No, I could have handled T. Roy eventually, on my own. I think she is afraid of something I can't handle."

  "If it is T. Roy, then it's over."

  "But if it isn't..."

  Cass threw his hands wide. “She's one piece of work, your sister. Was she always this difficult?"

  Kate hesitated. This seemed to be the night of opening closed doors. She made up her mind. “I'd like to show you something out in the utility shed. Will you come with me?"

  He held out a hand in acquiescence and she took it in hers. Collecting a flashlight from a drawer in the kitchen, she led him across the porch and outside. The wind pulled the screen door from Cass's hand and slammed it back against the house. Kate's hair whipped across her face. Long tendrils came loose from the clasp at her nape, nearly blinding her. The force almost staggered Kate; it pushed and pulled at them relentlessly.

  She raised her voice to be heard over the wind. “It's a lawn ornament. A statue of a young girl Dad bought when Leah and I were about twelve. We all fell in love with it one day when we were shopping and we brought it home. It stood in the rose garden until she died and then Dad had it removed because it reminded him and Mom
of her. The constant memory was too painful. I found it in the tool shed back at the rear of the property. I want you to see it."

  "I'm guessing there's a reason."

  "It's so like her. Maybe you can get a better picture of her by seeing this statue than you can by looking at our picture."

  He dodged a flailing tree branch, dragging her with him. “If you say so. Frankly I'm more interested in you at this point."

  Wind lashed the swing in ragged arcs. Roses, in their neat beds, whipped back forth as if they were being shaken by an earthquake.

  Cass steadied her against his side as they leaned into the wind and raised his voice. “We'd better get back inside. I don't like this wind. Where's Babe?"

  They were shouting. Kate put her hands to her mouth and yelled. “Babe. Come here. Babe!"

  No playful puppy bounded toward them. No shrill bark told them he'd heard.

  "He isn't in the yard. I don't see him."

  "He's around someplace. Don't worry. Where could he go? Ruby June's?"

  "Maybe Max left the gate open somehow..."

  "He'll turn up,” Cass shouted into her ear.

  They fought the wind to open the side door of the utility shed, but once inside and away from the force of the storm they could speak normally.

  Kate flipped on the overhead light, which cast a dim glow on only a small central area, and picked her way around an old saw horse, past a jumble of clay flower pots, and a row of stacked paint cans to a back corner. The flashlight picked up the form of something shrouded in an old tarp.

  "There,” she said. “That's it."

  "Just what is it?"

  "I'll show you.” Leaning forward she grasped the end of the tarp and pulled. A three-foot high piece of garden statuary emerged, silent and frozen in graceful motion.

  The marble image was a deep, obsidian black. The head was bowed slightly and turned sideways in a teasing, almost laughing manner. On her back were two relatively small wings, flexed and waiting. The hands were outstretched, palms upward in supplication, and on one finger a tiny butterfly balanced, ready for flight. She wore a short, flared skirt and stood on one foot, the other raised slightly as if she were about to pirouette.