“Hi.”
He spun around when her voice came from behind him. “Hi.” He thought he’d prepared himself for seeing her, but he hadn’t reckoned on the effect of her smile, and he’d forgotten that Lynne Thurston in a pair of short shorts could make a ninety-year-old man’s mouth water.
While he stared at her, Jasper came to his rescue. “Where’s your car, Miss Thurston?”
She didn’t look at Jasper, but kept her gaze glued to Sloan’s face. “In the garage.
“Thank you for coming,” she said in that low voice that always brought carnal thoughts to his mind. “I played in two tournaments since I saw you. Unfortunately I lost each time in the fourth round.”
“I know,” he said. “You did surprisingly well.”
She kicked at a tuft of grass. “That’s what my coach says, but I hate losing. I really hate it.”
He hadn’t wanted to get into a conversation with her, hadn’t wanted to involve himself in her life, hadn’t wanted to empathize with her, to want to hold her so badly that he ached.
Somewhere, as if from a great distance, he heard Jasper say, “Can I have the keys, Miss Thurston? I mean, you want me to look at your car, don’t you?”
Shape up, man, he told himself. Nobody had to tell him that Jasper had detected the hot tension between Lynne and himself, for none of his employees would ordinarily take over if he were present. Caesar’s whimpers—a signal that the dog knew he was there—gave him an excuse to get away from Lynne, and he dashed over to the deck.
“You’re one person he’ll never protect me from,” he heard her say and realized that she followed him. Ignoring her as best he could, he stroked and patted the dog, who greeted him joyfully. But Lynne didn’t let up.
“At least you got a decent greeting, Caesar,” she said. “Anyone would think Sloan cares more for you than he does for me.”
His head snapped up. “Did you tell Caesar to let his hair grow long, that you preferred poodles to German shepherds? No, because you don’t think a poodle would defend you.”
“Sloan, I’m sorry. You don’t know what I would give to—”
With his hands up, palms out, he interrupted her. “I’m not here to talk about that or anything else. You want your car repaired, and that’s what I’ll do, provided I find anything wrong with it.” A hole opened up in his gut when he released the dog and walked away from her. When he hurt her, he injured himself, but he couldn’t help it. After days and weeks of immersion in her warmth and sweetness, and after the loving she promised with every kiss and every caress, he hadn’t been prepared for the damning knowledge that he wasn’t good enough for her.
He walked over to where Jasper sat in Lynne’s car racing the engine. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know, Sloan. Maybe something happens after it’s been running a while, but damned if I can imagine what that could be. Let’s take it in and see what we find.”
He balanced himself on his haunches and listened to the motor. The thing was as regular as sunrise in the desert. Across the lawn past the clay court, Lynne stood facing him with her folded arms pressed to her middle.
“All right, Jasper. I was going to drive it, but I think we’ll tow it. Hook it up while I let her know she’ll be without her car for a few days.”
“I...uh...I guess I’ll rent one. It’s impossible to get along here without a car.”
He knew that, and in normal circumstances he’d lend her one, but he’d become suspicious of her car problems, and he didn’t plan to make it easy for her to manipulate him and do it with impunity.
“That’s a good idea.” He opened his wallet, extracted a business card and handed it to her. “This company will deliver a rental to you. We’ll let you know when your car is ready.”
She stepped closer, and the scent that he knew and loved so well filled his nostrils, tantalizing him. Yes, and sending a surge of pain through his body. His hands itched to hold and caress her, but he had never settled for second best, and he wouldn’t do it then. If a woman wasn’t proud of him, he wanted her out of his life, pain or no pain.
With his emotions sheltered, he gazed down at her. “Be seeing you.” Without waiting for her response, he strode to the truck and hopped in.
He hadn’t driven a mile before Jasper, a man ten years his senior, said to him, “Look, Sloan, it ain’t my business, but nothing’s wrong with this engine. It’s as smooth as a baby’s bottom. If you ask me, she wanted to see you again. Period.” Jasper knocked his McNeil baseball cap back and scratched his head. “Pretty clever, though.”
He had already considered that possibility, but he had to give her the benefit of the doubt. “We’ll jack it and you examine it thoroughly. McNeil Motor Service doesn’t give anybody a botched job.” From the corner of his eye, he could see Jasper’s raised eyebrows, and if he had been in the man’s place, he would have certainly done the same.
“Work it out, man,” Jasper said, proving that he knew the issue was a personal one. “Sometimes we get a lot just by giving a little.”
“Yeah,” he said, hoping to put an end to the discussion of Lynne and himself. He knew that Jasper and his other workers cared about him beyond their work relationship for they had demonstrated that on more than one occasion, so he spoke gently to Jasper.
“I know you’re right, but that depends on what you’re willing to trade. She’s a fine woman, and if she manages to change my mind, I’ll be grateful to her.”
“Well, if you weren’t tough, you wouldn’t be where you are. Still, from what I saw back there, I think you ought to give it a chance, man. I’ve known you and your parents since you were ten years old, and I wouldn’t steer you wrong. Nobody’s head is harder than mine, but if I hadn’t listened to my father—and I usually didn’t—I wouldn’t have Ellie, and you know I practically worship the ground she walks on.”
“I’m listening, Jasper, but I’d like us to let it go for now.”
“All right, but did you happen to catch her match in Stanford last week? Man, she was brilliant for four matches before Costa got the better of her. I think she’s headed back to the top.”
“I didn’t see her matches in that tournament, but I read a report of the last one.” He hadn’t known she’d be playing in the Stanford Classic, and he didn’t know her future program. But you’ll find out, his conscience jeered at him.
* * *
While Sloan pondered Jasper’s words, Lynne sat at home musing over Sloan’s behavior. Right in her presence, he’d fought a battle with himself and won it. He probably suspected that her car was in perfect working order, but he took it to the shop because, as he’d told her several times, he wasn’t a man to leave anything to chance. He hadn’t wanted to hear her apology, or so he’d implied. But his pain had radiated from him like bees swarming outward from their hive.
“He was mine, and he will be again,” she vowed. “He can’t shut me out of his life. I won’t let him.” With that determination, she went inside her house, loped up the stairs to the sitting room beside her bedroom and got a pen and sheet of writing paper from her desk.
Dear Sloan,
I made a terrible mistake when I followed my brother’s advice and said words that insulted you. I knew better. For days, I had resisted saying that to you, because it didn’t feel right. I had defended each of his snobbish attacks on you, but understand that I love my brother and have always followed his advice. He was so certain that you would be receptive to the idea. What I didn’t count on was that I would hurt you. I had told him that if the two of you were in the same room together, no one would be able to discern which of you was the mechanic. And that is true. You mean more to me than winning a grand slam, becoming number one or anything or anybody that I can think of. I don’t have words to tell you how much I miss you.
Love, Lynne
She ad
dressed it to him at McNeil Motor Service, stamped it and put it in her mailbox with the flag up so that the mailman would take it the next morning. If that didn’t work, she’d think of something else.
“I’ll give it two months,” she promised herself, “and if he doesn’t budge, I’m going to that shop and make him reject me in the presence of his employees.”
As always, when she took action to solve a problem, her spirits rose, and she hooked Caesar to his leash and went for a run. On the way home, a few sprinkles caused her to slow down so as to avoid sliding over the wet pavement. The raindrops thickened, bringing to her mind the day Sloan returned to her house soaking wet, and she dried his clothes in her drier while, clothed in her brother’s old robe, he waited in her bedroom.
Why on earth didn’t I stop to think of Sloan’s personality and his outlook on life before I made that ridiculous mistake? And on an evening when we were both so happy? I don’t blame him. It’s unforgivable.
She wondered why Caesar repeatedly turned back and looked at her as if he expected a command. She picked her way carefully among some broken branches as she passed the yellow house, a big rambling structure with five great gables, the only wooden building in the block and an example of how the well-to-do lived in late-nineteenth-century, post–Civil War Texas. It was said that the original owner wanted the gables so as to keep his five wives separate. Thelma claimed that the tale had no foundation in fact.
After a while, she realized that, in her musings about Sloan and herself, her pace had slowed almost to a crawl, and Caesar wanted to run. She jogged the remainder of the way, careful of her footing, fed Caesar and then sat alone in her living room contemplating her future. Never had she been so grateful for a phone call as when she answered and heard her sister-in-law’s voice.
“Say, girl, where’ve you been all afternoon? I must have called you half a dozen times.”
“I was outside. How’s Brad?”
“He thinks you’re mad at him because you haven’t called recently. What’s up?”
She looked toward the ceiling and blew out a long and impatient breath. “Debra, I am not in the mood to deal with Brad’s antics. He told me to do something stupid. I did it, and I’m suffering the consequences. What should I do, call him and thank him? Tell him that from now on, I keep my own counsel.”
“Then you are angry with him.”
“No, Debra. I’m angry with myself, because I knew it was wrong. Now let’s get off the subject.”
“Whew! You’re straining at the bit. Brad loves you dearly. You know that.”
“Yes, Debra, I know it. I also know that he thinks he knows best, and the fact that his advice messed up my life won’t prevent his giving me more of it the next time we talk.”
“I’m sorry, Lynne. I can see that you care a lot for the guy, but don’t cut us out of your life.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, don’t be so melodramatic. You and Brad are all the family I have. Why would I do that? Give Brad a kiss for me. I have to look after my dinner, Debra, before it burns up. Bye.”
She didn’t remember previously having lost her temper with her sister-in-law, but at least now Debra would know that she wasn’t a sponge that absorbed every foolish thing said to her. She warmed up a pot of lima beans, okra and smoked ham hocks, ate enough of it to banish the hunger cramps and went to bed.
“It’s a hard lesson,” she told herself, “but at least I’ve learned it, and all future advice will be examined under a magnifying glass, even if a preacher volunteers it.”
She slept peacefully and awoke the next morning resolved not to allow her unhappiness in her relationship with Sloan to derail her progress toward becoming the world’s number one tennis player. It wouldn’t be easy, but with her first two tournaments, she’d moved up from number three hundred and fifty to number one hundred and seven. That was as much encouragement as she needed.
* * *
Nearly a week later, Sloan thumbed through the pile of mail on his desk, tossing catalogs and other junk mail into the wastebasket. “What was that?” he said of an envelope that he’d pitched into the basket. He retrieved it, studied the handwriting, turned the envelope over and the air seeped out of him when he saw that it came from Lynne. Misgivings quickly replaced his eagerness, and he put the letter, unopened, in his top desk drawer.
“I don’t want to deal with that right now.” Although that was what he told himself, he knew that—in his stubbornness—he wanted to deal with Lynne on his terms and not hers, for if she even hinted that she loved him, he would capitulate.
He wanted to visit his parents the coming weekend, but he also needed to spend time in Clinton Hills with the builder of the shop he was locating there, and his mind told him to drop by Thelma’s house. He telephoned Thelma.
“This is Sloan,” he said when she answered. “I’ve been wondering how your window is holding up in all this rain we’ve been having.”
“It’s perfect,” she said, “and I finally broke down and had the place air-conditioned. What a difference. The heat got so bad I couldn’t sleep, and the doctor told me to put an air conditioner in my bedroom. Lynne told me that to air-condition the house made more sense, so I did it. Sloan, I was just thinking of all the years I was miserable because I was too stubborn to cool this place off.”
A chuckle escaped him without warning, spoiling his plan to give her a good lecture. “That little anecdote is supposed to lead to a lecture about my stubbornness with Lynne. Right? I know you, now, so you can’t fool me. How is she?” he asked, using it for his own purpose.
“I don’t see too much of her because she’s getting ready for a tournament in Connecticut, and I think she said her coach entered her in the US Open.”
“Is he crazy? She can’t possibly be ready for that,” he said, appalled at the thought.
“I ’spect she’d make better progress if she didn’t have all these...uh...personal things on her mind,” Thelma said, rubbing salt into his open wound, as it were. “A gentleman answers his personal mail.”
“I always answer my mai... She told you about that letter? I haven’t read it yet.”
“For goodness’ sake, aren’t you going to?”
“Eventually I suppose. You know, Thelma, you take liberties with me that my mother wouldn’t consider, and I tolerate it.”
“That means I’m good for you. Everybody needs a Thelma, a person who cares deeply, who’ll listen to whatever you say, and who’ll tell you the unbiased truth. Your mother’s biased because anybody who hurts her precious boy is a bad person. Right?”
“Yeah, but if her precious boy does something wrong, he’ll definitely hear from her. If you’re going to be home tomorrow afternoon, I’ll check your trees. The wind must have weakened a few limbs. If so, that can pose a danger when you’re in your back garden.”
“I sure would appreciate that, but I’m smelling these buttermilk biscuits I just put in the oven. Can you come over this afternoon or maybe this evening?”
“Woman, you definitely know how to treat a bachelor. I’ll be over there around six.”
Afterward he mused over his purpose in conjuring up a reason to visit Thelma, but when he faced the truth, he knew he wanted to be near Lynne and hoped Thelma would invite her to join them.
However, Thelma let him know that the idea hadn’t occurred to her. “When you two get together,” she told him over their supper of fried chicken, string beans, ham, boiled potatoes and buttermilk biscuits, “it will be because you both put forth the effort. I’m not going to butt in and make it easy for either one of you. When you both hurt badly enough, you’ll put an end to this foolishness.”
“I hadn’t planned to eat up your dinner, but thanks for inviting me. I enjoyed it.”
“I see you’re avoiding answering me. You’re a stubborn man, Sloan. Here. Take this pie
home with you.” She cut a slice from another pie and put it on a plate and handed it to him. “You’re a good man, and you’re good to me. I know my son is smiling down on you right this minute.”
She sat down, folded her hands and began to twist them. “Read Lynne’s letter, Sloan. I don’t think you’ll be sorry you did.”
He got up, put the dishes in the dishwasher and took the bag that contained his pie. “You’re spoiling me, but I like it.” She walked with him to the door and he leaned down and kissed her cheek. Then he gazed down at her, waiting for her reaction, and it shocked him when tears streamed down her cheeks.
She didn’t wipe them away, and she didn’t smile. “You’re so dear to me, and now I know I mean something to you,” was all she said. He told her he’d be in touch and, when he left her, he walked with slow, deliberate steps. When had that old woman come to mean so much to him? She cared about him, too, and she wanted what she thought was best for him.
Instead of going home, he went back to the shop, unlocked it and opened his desk drawer. Since writing that letter, Lynne had made no effort to contact him, and he wondered if by not answering, he would write finis to their friendship. Jasper’s words pounded his head. He picked up a silver letter opener that a client gave him one Christmas and slit the envelope. Maybe she wasn’t asking for reconciliation. Maybe she was telling him she intended to get on with her life. His fingers trembled as he pulled the folded sheet from its envelope, opened it and began to read.
“I don’t have the words to tell you how much I miss you.” He read that sentence over and over. It contained no genuine surprises, but it made him wonder why she hadn’t told him that she loved him. He remained there for more than an hour, thinking about her and about himself. He wasn’t a Solomon whose wisdom was sufficient for the ages, and hadn’t he done things that he regretted? He folded the letter and put it in his breast pocket.
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