The intern cleared his throat. “We should let him get some rest now. If you two get caught in here…”
“You’ve been wonderful, Jon. I’ll call, and we’ll get you scheduled for
Dream Date
right away.”
Yup, the bloodhound had bought herself a buddy.
“Petey,” she said from the foot of his bed, “we’re going to leave so you can snooze.” She squeezed his big toe and tiptoed away.
She could leave his feet alone, but it was better than having her kiss him. Sunny leaned down, her mouth coming toward his face. Her he wanted to kiss. He definitely did, and proved it by meeting her lips.
Her sweet kiss made his heart race, especially when the kiss changed from a comforting, goodbye peck into the real thing, a kiss that he wanted to go on and on, if only he weren’t so sleepy.
“I’ll see you tomorrow after school,” Sunny whispered.
He started to say he wouldn’t see her for a couple of weeks, but the drugs kicked in hard and he was out.
Sunny stood on the deck of her condo, stirring hazelnut-flavored cream into her coffee, remembering her vow two weeks ago that she’d learn to drink her coffee black just to be different from Pete’s ex. Broken vows weren’t good, but why keep the vow when she couldn’t keep the guy?
As a judge of people, she was a real failure. She’d been so sure Pete was different. Granted, he was convalescing, but couldn’t a guy rest with a phone in his hand?
Carefully she settled into her hammock with her coffee and Bible. These days she didn’t feel totally in sync with God, not the way she liked. She still read the Word and talked with Him, but she’d think of Pete and a restless spirit would invade her peace.
Instead of keeping her mind on the Master, she’d remember the smell of Pete’s woodsy aftershave, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, how featherlight he’d stroked her hair, how his kisses fired unrelenting yearning.
And she worried about him. She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t forget the pain he’d endured rather than tell her the truth about himself.
Dear God, blessed and precious Lord, thank You for being here ready to listen, ready to lead. Thank You for letting me lean on You. Thank You for putting Pete in my life, even if it was for a short while. I give him to You, Lord, to heal and to love. Be as real to him as You are to me. Let him know Your comfort, Your joy, Your—
The phone rang in the house. She would ignore it, but the answering machine wasn’t on and it could be Pete. Rolling out of the hammock, spilling her coffee, she dashed inside and answered on the third ring, “Hello?”
“Good morning, Alexandra.”
She’d expected this call. “Good morning, Mother,” she answered, trying to keep the nervousness from her voice.
“It looks as if it will be a beautiful day, doesn’t it?” her mother said congenially. Eleanor Keegan’s manners couldn’t be faulted, not when she wanted to be nice—or had an agenda.
Matching her mother’s civility, she said, “I understand we’re to have relatively clear skies all week.”
“No smog, thank God.”
Sunny drummed her fingers on the kitchen
counter, impatient with the preliminaries. It was her turn to volley. “Great weather for golf. Is your foursome playing as usual tomorrow?”
“Oh, yes. Nothing’s changed. Not when we’ve had the same tee time for twenty years.”
“Same group as always?” she asked, playing the banality game.
“Yes, all but Marsha. Barb’s filling in for her.”
Her mother’s affable chitchat about Marsha’s knee surgery was quite a contrast from their last conversation. It did no good to remember such things, but it was difficult to forget her mother’s shrill castigation after the wedding that wasn’t.
When her mother cleared her throat, Sunny went to full alert, recognizing the familiar launch signal.
“With Easter only a week away,” her mother said affably, “I thought we should coordinate our plans for the day. Naturally we expect you to join us for Easter dinner.”
Naturally? “Thank you for the invitation, Mother, but I’m spending Easter in Hawaii with friends.”
“Change your plans. We dine at one.”
That was abrupt. Bad manners, Mom. But maybe that was all a prodigal daughter deserved. “Sorry, Mother, but I’ve already made plans,” she said, and braced herself for another tactic.
There was a pause, very brief, before her mother said, “Oh, Alexandra, I’m so sorry….”
Ah, the “dulcet tone.” That was reserved for really hard cases. It was kind of cool, being thought of that way.
“I guess I should have called earlier.” Her
mother sighed. “But we do so want you with us. Families should be together for holidays.”
Then why hadn’t she heard from her parents at Thanksgiving or Christmas? Easter at the Keegans’ was no family affair, but a garden party for their inner circle, counting a hundred or more. Even worse, it was Bruce’s crowd as well as her parents’.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” she repeated simply, giving her mother nothing more to work with.
There was the slightest pause, which, of course, meant nothing, not when Mother had barely tapped her arsenal.
“Darling Alexandra…” her mother crooned.
Bad choice of weapons. “Darling” had lost its power from too many firings. Darling Pierre was asked to style her mother’s hair on short notice. Darling Bridget gave her an extra half hour of massage. Mother would have done better with the minisob.
“It’s just that it’s been such a long, long while since we’ve seen you, and…” There it was. The minisob—just one, very faint. “We miss you so.”
Sentiment careened in her heart, swamping her resolve. How could she let the suggestion of tears get to her, knowing it was only a tool? But her mother almost never cried. That’s what made the minisob so effective.
In spite of herself, she said, “I miss you, too, Mother.” They had never been close, but this was her only mother.
“It’s time we let bygones be bygones, darling. Your father and I…we’ve been thinking about going to church this Easter.”
Sunny almost dropped the phone. Easter for the
Keegans was bunnies and egg hunts. They attended church once in a while for voters’ benefit, but her father never took religion seriously. Her mother ridiculed Sunny’s relationship with God.
“Would it be all right if we went with you?”
Splat. They had her. The battle belonged to Mom. Manipulation or not, she’d do anything to bring her parents to the Lord. Readily she agreed to all of her mother’s plans.
Ending the call, Sunny thanked God for this wonderful surprise and vowed she’d treat her parents with kindness and love. She supposed that started with thinking about what she should wear.
At her church, clothes didn’t matter, but they did to her mother. What would Mom like? Perhaps her butter-yellow suit, casually styled in silk. She looked pretty good in it. And pearls—definitely pearls. Her grandmother’s pearl-and-diamond brooch. How could she go wrong with that?
Chapter Nine
T
he camel suede and navy leather bag came compliments of the rehab center to patients who checked in wearing their hospital gowns. Pete wondered what his dad would say to such luxury. Probably something about a man working too hard to waste money.
He hadn’t much to pack—just a few clothes, his shaving gear and a roll of mints. Phone numbers from a cute little aide, a nurse twice his age and voluptuous Lauren Lemmon the movie star, he tossed in the can.
His one and only book would go in last.
“Be well in body and soul,”
read the words on the flyleaf, a simple wish from the chaplain on his first day here.
Pete had taken the book to please the man, not because he planned to read it, but after days of talk shows and ball games, he’d finally been bored enough to read a few pages. He’d tried to read the Bible before, but this contemporary version was different.
It read just like any other book, and he’d been able to understand every word.
The more he read, the more he wondered where he’d gotten the idea God listened to one prayer and not another. And why had he thought God should answer prayer his way? After all, which one of them was God?
The truth in that book burned into his soul until he’d repented and made things right with the Lord. Well, almost right. He still had to face all those scriptures about forgiveness. A couple of times he’d told the Lord he’d forgiven Lisa and the lowlife who stole her away, but, once more for good measure, he prayed,
Lord, I forgive Lisa and…him.
He still couldn’t bring himself to say the bum’s name though they’d been buddies since Little League. Words alone probably didn’t count with the Lord. Man, he had a long way to go.
But he was on the right track. That was for sure. He felt better than he had in a long time. Stretching, letting the muscles roll across his back, he pledged full cooperation with his doctor’s orders from now on. He’d learned his lesson, and he’d stick to his routine. Sunny would have to hike mountains without him.
Sunny. Now, that was a loose end. Would she want to see him? Did he have the nerve to find out?
A taxi was on its way to pick him up. It would cost a small fortune to go home by cab, but he had money in his wallet and plenty more in the bank. In fact, plenty to take a cruise or something. Well, not a cruise. Too many people. A trip around the world might be nice though. He could get a camera and
take a bunch of pictures to look at when he was old and alone.
Wasn’t that pitiful? A thirty-two-year-old guy thinking about his old age? That alone confirmed he was no studmuppet, or whatever silly thing Sunny had called him.
After the cab dropped him off at his house, maybe he’d get Old Red and drive by San Josita High. If he didn’t spot Sunny there, he knew where she lived, although he might not recognize the place without the circus in front.
He wouldn’t hang around in Sunny’s life, making a pest of himself, but he was so hungry for the sight of her big smile, he felt like a stray mutt looking for scraps. It wasn’t healthy, the way he thought about her all the time. Once he knew everything was fine in her life, he’d be able to relax and forget her. Well, not forget her, but let her be a nice memory.
As the taxi drove down his street, he looked at the houses, seeing them as a stranger would—say, someone like Sunny. Each small home had started out alike, built on a slab with a low-slung roof. Individuality came with an added vinyl canopy over the front door, shutters at the windows or a bit of brick siding. The yards were small, most with a patio in the back, and an extra vehicle out front, most sporting some rust or a ding or two.
It was a working man’s neighborhood, one he’d been proud to be part of. It had been a big step up from the apartment Lisa had shared with her three lazy brothers, drunken bum of a dad and mother who taught her daughter to lie.
With a baby on the way, he’d wanted to do the
right thing, though it meant giving up college and marrying a girl who wasn’t easy to please. His parents loaned them the down payment, and Lisa had fixed up the house real cute.
Once he’d gotten over the lie, it hadn’t been a bad life. He’d worked long hours with his dad, come home to dinner on the table, played on a couple of baseball teams and kept a nice lawn. Lisa hadn’t wanted to work, and he hadn’t minded moonlighting on weekends to get the things she wanted. Some of the things. Lisa was never satisfied long.
But that was history. Lisa got their good car and their friends. He got the house, Old Red and a bucket of bitterness.
He opened the kitchen door with a key he kept in his wallet. Everything was as he’d left it, neat as a pin. In his closet the hangers were spaced evenly, an inch apart. He chose the blue knit shirt Meggy had given him for his birthday, changed into a pair of tan dress pants and socks, and slipped into loafers.
He guessed his hair looked okay and his shave was good. A dab of cologne wouldn’t hurt, but just a dab, Meggy said when she gave it to him, unless he wanted the women to mob him. He’d settle for one redhead with long, gorgeous legs.
In the garage, Old Red came alive at the first turn of the key. Clean as a whistle, she was like new under the hood. He could have bought a new pickup for what he’d spent on her, but he didn’t need anything better to prove who he was.
He knew the layout of San Josita High from his own high school days. Though he was more familiar
with the baseball diamond, he’d been in and out of the main gym. He circled the school a couple of times, but drove off. He needed a soda—that’s why he left. Not because he was nervous.
By the time he returned and got down to business, cruising past the playing fields, his window open, one arm on the ledge, trying to spot Sunny, the idea of being here seemed really stupid. Even if she were out there, how would he recognize her? She wasn’t as big as a lot of those kids.
A piercing whistle, a sound he’d heard before, long and drawn-out, made him jam on the brakes. Two girls, one tall with an air of command, the other short and cute, came running up.
“You’re Pete, aren’t you?” the little one said.
The bigger girl palmed her head like a basketball. “Don’t be asking the man dumb questions, Mouse. How ’ya doing, Pete? You come to see Coach?” she asked with a knowing grin.
He agreed, feeling awkward, chatting up teenagers.
“We were at the TV studio when you and Coach got matched,” the little one said, smiling so hard, she might hurt herself.
The bigger one looked him straight in the eye. “I guess you know Coach is one in a million.”
He wouldn’t want to tangle with this girl. He nodded, approving her loyalty. “You’re right about that.”
“I think Coach really likes you,” said the little one. “You’re going to take her out again, aren’t you?”
The bigger girl whacked her arm. “Mouse, what
did I tell you about keeping out of somebody’s business? You got to excuse her, Pete. She hasn’t had her medicine today. Do you want us to get Coach for you? She’s over there at the second ball diamond.”
He grinned. They’d made this easy.
Sunny stood behind the catcher at home plate and watched another ball sail across the plate. It looked like Trevor would strike out again, even though the pitcher had thrown in two slow, well-placed pitches the kid should have hit.