Fire and Ice

by Carla Fredd

  "No. By the time they could do something like that, dad was running for mayor and we were all supposed to project the right image to the public. No fussing. No fighting. No crying," she said with a laugh.

  He could hear the loneliness in her voice, no matter how much she tried to hide it. He could almost see her as a little girl, feeling like she wasn't really a part of the family and told to act a certain way in front of hundreds, maybe thousands, of people.

  "What was it like when your father ran for office? How old were you then?"

  When she didn't answer, he followed her gaze to the children playing soccer. He thought that she was going to ignore his question, but then in a low voice she began to speak.

  "I was thirteen when Daddy ran for a seat on the city council. I remember him being gone all the time, and when he was home he was tired. Then, one day, he took us out campaigning with him. There were reporters there, because it was a tight race. We were all standing together and I remember one of his volunteers asking another if I was adopted, because I didn't look like the others." Holly paused.

  Mike longed to smooth the frown on her face. Her eyes were clouded with the pain she'd experienced so long ago.

  She cleared her throat as if to dispel those old feelings and began to speak. "That was the first time that I felt completely alienated from my family, like I didn't belong. I wanted to yell at that lady that I was there from the very beginning. During that campaign, I was referred to as the child from his first marriage. I really hoped that daddy would lose so that I wouldn't have to go through that again." She looked at him, gauging his reaction. "At thirteen, I was pretty self-absorbed. But Daddy won and I learned to deal with being considered an outsider by people other than my family."

  "Didn't you tell your father how you felt?"

  "When? I rarely saw him at home, and I didn't think that he could do anything about it." She waved her hand as if to brush off the question.

  "Hmm," he said, letting the conversation end. He watched her eat another spoonful of her ice cream, wondering how any parent could be oblivious to the kind of hurt that Holly had experienced.

  He was angry with her parents for letting her go through that pain alone and for letting her get hurt in the first place. He felt a fierce wave of protectiveness toward her and he wanted to hold her in his arms and erase the hurt and pain that she'd experienced. He put the top on his empty ice cream container and put it aside. He'd never felt protective of the women he'd dated before, but then again, he'd never dated someone like Holly.

  Holly was the type of woman who made a man think of marriage and children. The two things that he had delegated to later in his life now seemed appealing. Under the cool shade, they watched the children run back and forth, chasing the soccer ball. She placed her empty ice cream carton next to his. He studied her face. Twin lines formed between her brow as she looked at the children. He reached out and brushed his fingers across her brow. She turned to him in surprise. The frown disappeared and she smiled at him. That was more like it. He leaned back against the trunk of the tree and pulled her with him until her shoulders rested on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. The sweet smell of freshly cut grass mingled with the light, floral scent of her perfume.

  "All I need is a hammock and I could stay here forever," he said lazily.

  "The gnats and mosquitoes would pick you up and carry you off."

  "This is my daydream." He nudged her shoulders. "There are no bugs in my daydream."

  "I suppose that the temperature doesn't get above eighty and there are no police to arrest you for vagrancy, either."

  "Work with me on this one, Holly, work with me," he laughed. "Now, where was I?"

  "You were in a hammock."

  "Yeah. There aren't any bugs, and the weather's perfect. I've got an Emmy for best director of a television movie."

  Holly tilted her head back and looked at him. "You want to direct television movies? What about your show?"

  "I won't always be a talk-show host." His eyes met hers. "I want to try my hand at directing. I like made-for-television movies and I plan to direct one as soon as I find the right script." She settled against his chest once more and he continued. "Back to my daydream. I've got an Emmy and I'm taking a rest before the next picture. There's just you and me lazing away the day in the hammock."

  He felt her tense in his arms. He knew he had step across the line with his reference to the two of them as a couple, but if he left it up to Holly to decide when their relationship would move forward, he would be waiting a long time. He sighed, then held her hand. "But that's just my dream." The tension in her shoulders faded away. He let her off the hook for now, but soon she would have to face the fact that they were going to be lovers and not just friends.

  "What about you? What would be your perfect daydream?"

  "Oh, I don't know."

  "Come on. You've got to have a dream."

  She thought for a moment. "My perfect day would be in the spring, just before the mosquitoes became really awful. Flowers would be in full bloom. I'd be able to go anywhere I wanted and nobody would pay attention to me. I'd be just another woman walking down the street." She looked at him. "That would be my dream."

  Mike was torn. He wanted her to fulfill her dream, but in doing so, he would have to be out of her life completely. He didn't want to think about that possibility. He had to persuade her to change her dream to include him. He didn't know why it was so important that he be a part of her life, but it was.

  They sat in silence, each wrapped in their own thoughts. The sound of a shriek of laughter broke the introspective mood. They laughed as they watched a toddler try to catch a large rubber ball. Each time the child would get close to the ball, he would kick it away. Finally, he caught the ball and carried it back to his mother.

  A few minutes later, they decided to walk off the ice cream. They shared the sidewalk with skaters wearing helmets and knee pads. Slowly, they made their way around the park, stopping once so that Mike could push Holly in a swing.

  A woman walking her dog did a double-take when she saw Mike, but she kept walking. Mike didn't react, but Holly felt a jolt of fear when the woman looked at them. The relaxed feeling that she had while they were walking was gone. She walked faster, as if she was trying to hide.

  "Slow down, Holly. This isn't a race," Mike said, pulling her back to his side.

  "That woman recognized you."

  "So?"

  "So! People will want your autograph, and then a crowd will form . . ."

  "Holly, look around. Nobody's paying attention to us."

  She looked. He was right. People were going about their business and enjoying the park. She looked at him sheepishly. "Sorry, I'm just paranoid. When Trey and I went out, people would always crowd around us."

  I'll bet Trey deliberately brought attention to himself, Mike thought, but he kept his opinion to himself. He reached for her hand and said, "Pretend the other people aren't here and enjoy the park."

  They continued to walk, their hands joined. Holly enjoyed the rest of the time they spent in the park. It was almost like her perfect daydream. No one watched her as she walked by. The other people on the sidewalk didn't recognize either of them. They decided to leave when they reached the parking lot.

  Holly directed him through the old homes surrounding the Emory University campus. The brick Tudor-style houses were surrounded by large, well-manicured yards. Old money had kept the neighborhood intact.

  They meandered their way to Holly's neighborhood. Mike drove down her street. The reporter was still parked in front of her house. Mike drove around the block and parked his car in front of Mr. Walker's house.

  "We'd better ask if we can go through his yard," she said.

  "Sometimes it's better to ask for forgiveness than to ask permission." With that, he opened the door and walked around to open the door for her.

  "Remember, I have to deal with him when you're not here. I think we should ask permission."


  "What are you going to do if he says no?"

  "Walk through another yard." She walked to the front door of the Walker home. Mr. Walker opened the door.

  "Are you back again?" He tilted his head back to see his neighbor clearly with his trifocals.

  "Uh. Yes, sir," Holly said. "I wanted to know if we could go through your yard one last time?"

  "Well, I guess it won't hurt."

  "Thank you," she said, and hurried across the front yard.

  "I still think we should have just walked back there," Mike said. He helped her over the fence before climbing over it himself. They walked across her back yard. The afternoon sun shone brightly through the tall pine trees. She opened the back door and invited him inside.

  "Would you like something cold to drink?" she asked, leading him into the den. She didn't want the afternoon to end, but now that they were alone in her home, she was nervous. "I've got sweet tea, Coke, and juice." She stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the den, hoping she didn't look as nervous as she felt.

  "Anything would be fine with me, as long as it's cold."

  She left him wandering around the den when she went into the kitchen. She removed two glasses from the cabinet. Her hands shook when she put ice in the glass, then poured the iced tea. She put the pitcher of tea back into the refrigerator. "Get a grip," she told herself, then took a deep, calming breath before joining Mike.

  He stood before her large collection of books. The sunlight from the windows spread rays of light on the bookshelves and across his broad shoulders. His stone-washed jeans did nothing to hide his firm buttocks and long, muscular legs.

  She must have made a noise, because he turned to her. For a moment she stood mesmerized by his gaze. She felt desire, strong and deep. Her hands tightened around the cold glasses.

  "Here's your tea." She walked toward him with a glass outstretched in front of her. Their fingers touched as he took the glass. Taking a sip of the cool, sweet liquid, she struggled to think of something to say. She stared into the icy brown tea. The hum of the air conditioner filled the silence in the room. The silence stretched and stretched. Finally, she worked up enough nerve to look at him. He stood there smiling at her.

  "I thought you were going to stare into that glass for the rest of the day."

  She laughed, "No."

  "I'm not going to change into Mr. Hyde just because we're alone." He waved his glass at the books. "You've got quite a collection. Have you read them all?"

  "Most of them," she answered, with a hint of pride in her voice.

  He picked up an oversized book. "Grimm Brothers' Fairy Tales?"

  "What can I say, I like fairy tales."

  He placed the book back on the shelf and walked around the coffee table to the sofa. Patting the cushion next to him, he motioned for Holly to sit.

  "Come on, I won't bite . . . unless you want me to." His expression was comically lecherous.

  She looked at him, unsure if he was joking or not. When he wiggled his eyebrows, she laughed and sat next to him. "Are you always like this?"

  "Like what?"

  "I don't know." Holly looked at the ceiling for inspiration. "Unpredictable."

  "I'm not unpredictable. I always know what I'm doing."

  "That's what I mean. You don't do what I expect you to do."

  "What did you expect me to do?"

  "Respond with a serious answer, maybe."

  "You want serious . . . how's this?" He straightened his shoulders. All trace of laughter was gone from his eyes. He frowned as if in deep concentration. "You take life entirely too seriously, Holly. I think you need to lighten up." His brown eyes were clear and bright with honesty and sincerity.

  "Have you been talking to Pam? She's always telling me to lighten up."

  "Great minds think alike."

  "Or demented minds."

  He smiled at her. Slowly the smile melted away. She didn't recognize the emotion behind his expression, but it called to her, stripping away her defenses.

  "I like you, Holly Aimes."

  "I like you, too, Mike," she said, with a bit of surprise. She really did like him.

  "Don't sound so surprised."

  "Oh, no. I didn't mean it to come out that way."

  "But you are surprised that you like me. Admit it." He pushed her shoulder. "Admit it."

  "Okay," she laughed. "I'm surprised that I like you. I didn't expect to, especially after talking to you over the phone about your alarm system."

  "You condemn me on the basis of one telephone call." He shook his head.

  "Our first meeting wasn't that great, either."

  "Would you be friendly if the police were giving you yet another fine?"

  "No, but you didn't have to be so nasty, and it was your fault the alarm didn't work."

  "I apologized for that. You didn't want to let me make up for it anyway. I admit it when I make one of my very rare mistakes."

  "That's what I really like about you, Mike. You're so modest."

  "Hang around with me and you'll learn that I'm smart and handsome, too."

  Holly tried to keep a straight face but failed. Soon they were both laughing. She would remember their laughter later that evening when he'd left and she wondered if she was smart to let herself enjoy the time with him when she would be leaving so soon.

  Chapter 7

  Sunday had become Holly's lazy day. Until a few months ago, she would have driven to the Mount Carmel Baptist Church. She had attended early morning services there since she was a little girl. But that had come to an end when a reporter had sat beside her in church and begun asking questions about Trey's marriage.

  So today, she rose early and prepared a light breakfast and leisurely ate it while reading the paper. She had planned to visit Wanda's sister yesterday, until Mike had come over and she had forgotten about her plans until late that night.

  Holly took a shower, then dressed in her favorite jeans, teal-green cotton shirt, and canvas shoes. She went to the living room window and peered through the curtains. To her relief, the street was free of cars. Grabbing her purse, she walked to her garage and started her car.

  Traffic was light as she drove through downtown Atlanta. She stopped and bought a card and a bunch of daffodils before reaching the hospital. She went to the information desk to find out what room to go to. No matter how much was spent on interior design, hospitals seemed depressing. When she reached the room, she knocked lightly on the partially closed door before walking in.

  Wanda smiled when she saw Holly standing at the door and closed the magazine she was reading. "Come on in," she said, as she rose from the overstuffed chair beside the empty hospital bed.

  "Hi," Holly said, walking across the room to give Wanda a hug. "Where's Carmen?"

  "In there." She pointed to the closed bathroom door.

  "How's she doing?"

  "Okay. I . . ." Wanda paused when the door opened and Carmen walked out.

  Carmen looked like she was twelve, not sixteen. She was just shy of five feet and weighed less than a hundred pounds. The light blue hospital gown fit like a tent around her. She smiled when she saw Holly.

  "Hey. Are those for me?" She pointed to the flowers Holly was holding.

  "Yep. How are you feeling?" Holly hugged her and helped her back to her bed.

  "Fine, but I'm sick of this place." Carmen settled in the bed. "And I'm tired of pudding for breakfast, pudding for lunch, and soup for dinner. What I would give for a hamburger."

  "You must be feeling better if you're complaining about the food," Wanda said dryly.

  Carmen made a face at her sister, then said to Holly, "The only good thing that's happened is that I got a chance to talk to Michael Williams on the telephone Friday."

  "Oh, really?"

  "Yes. He's really, really nice. He said that we had tickets reserved for his show when I got well." Carmen beamed as she restated her conversation with Mike word for word. He had a fan for life, Holly thought. "H
e said he would come and see me when he got a chance."

  Why did he have to be so nice? Trey wouldn't have thought to call a child in the hospital, much less promise to come for a visit.

  "How was the show Friday?" Wanda asked, when Carmen wound down.

  "It was great. I think everybody had a good time."

  "I heard that you had an especially good time," Wanda said sarcastically.

  Holly felt heat rush to her face. She shouldn't feel embarrassed, but she was. She and Mike hadn't tried to hide that fact that they were going out. She knew that Wanda, like the rest of her close friends, would be curious about the first date she'd gone out on since her engagement.

  The arrival of a hospital worker with Carmen's lunch diverted Wanda's attention and saved Holly from responding to her comment.

  "I'd better go and let you have your lunch," Holly said, as she eased toward the door.

  "Some lunch, it's pudding again," she said in disgust.

  Holly said goodbye and left the hospital. She didn't handle Wanda's statement well. If she was going to see Mike, she would have to get used to the questions and remarks about them.

  Why shouldn't she go out? She wasn't engaged anymore. Did people expect her to have no personal life at all? Admittedly, she wasn't a party animal, but she did like to go out every once in a while.

  She'd never gone out with someone like Mike. With him, she forgot to be shy. If she wasn't careful, he would make her forget many things, like her plans to move to Seattle. She couldn't let anything alter her plans, not even her growing attraction to Mike.

  When she arrived home, she checked for messages on her answering machine. Mike had called her twice. His voice sounded sexy. "Hi, Holly. It's Mike. Give me a call at work when you get a chance." He left his office number. The next call came an hour later. "Holly, this is Mike. I just wanted to talk to you, but I guess you're not there. Give me a call. I'm still at work."

  Holly played the message again. He just wanted to talk to her. If it was a line, it had worked. That message made her feel wanted, needed. She picked up the phone and dialed his office.