Authors: Gail Bowen
I laughed. “Just watch the game,” I said. “Seeing the shape these kids are in will firm your resolve.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she said.
We settled back to follow the progress of the disc as it arced through the summer air. Like Zack, Delia had questions about Ultimate, and I did my best to answer them. At one point, her attention was diverted, and she touched my arm.
“Look over there,” she said. “Hard to believe that an hour ago our daughters were asking us if they could have a party with the boys from the cottages down the shore.”
The girls had found the playground, and with the Merlin-like ability of preadolescents they had become kids again, abandoning the mysteries of growing up for the sheer pleasure of daring one another to go higher, faster, and farther.
“I’ve missed so much,” Delia said simply. “But no more. I’m going to do better. I’m going to be better.”
Remembering the plans of Clare Mackey’s friends, I felt a pang. Suddenly, I very much wanted Delia to have her chance.
In front of us, Leah, her face dirty and her hair soaked with perspiration, made a heroic leap, caught the disc, and hit the grass. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of her, and for an endless moment she lay motionless on the ground. When Angus ran over to see if she was all right, Leah shook him off angrily and pushed herself to her feet. The game continued.
“She’s tough,” Delia said admiringly.
“Not a bad quality in a woman,” I said.
“I agree,” Delia said. “Is she tougher than your son?”
“I’d say they were evenly matched,” I said.
“Are you and Zack evenly matched?” Delia asked mischievously.
“I don’t think that’s an issue,” I said. “We hardly know each other.”
“I don’t believe you,” Delia said. “I saw that kiss he planted on you in the car. In all the years I’ve known Zack, I’ve never seen him be publicly demonstrative with a woman. In fact, I’ve never known any of his women. I know they exist, but he keeps that part of his life separate from us.”
“Sometimes it’s wise to keep professional and private lives separate,” I said.
My only intention had been to switch the focus off the subject of Zack and me, but Delia seized on my words. “That’s always been a problem for us,” she said. “We’ve never been able to separate the personal and the professional. Noah and I can’t. Blake and Lily can’t. Chris and I couldn’t.”
Delia’s reference to her relationship with Chris shook me. An image from the night Chris died flashed into my consciousness: Delia standing behind Chris, her arms encircling him as if to keep him from slipping away. Had she been the woman with whom he’d had the affair, the woman who’d chosen not to go through with her pregnancy?
Innocent of my speculations, Delia peered intently as the opposing team advanced the disc effortlessly down the field. When they scored, she pounded her fist into her hand. “Damn,” she said. “Anyway, Noah and I have been lucky. We seem to have survived.”
“Do you think Blake and Lily’s relationship will survive?” I asked.
“I hope not,” Delia said. She winced. “I know that sounds cruel. But that’s a relationship that never should have been. Blake got far more than he bargained for with Lily. We all did.”
“In what way?” I said.
“I shouldn’t be talking about her,” Delia said. “It’s disloyal. More to the point, it’s unfair. As much as any of us, Lily is responsible for the firm’s success.”
“That seems odd, since she’s not a lawyer.”
“You don’t have to be a lawyer to have a brain,” Delia said wryly. “Lily is one smart cookie. More significantly, she’s able to see the big picture. There are a lot of sharp elbows and egos at Falconer Shreve. People are focused on their own work. There’s not much glory in taking care of the day-to-day business of the firm. Most of us deal with office stuff on a need-to-know basis, but Lily’s always understood what had to be done.”
“That
is
a gift,” I said.
“What’s a gift?” Blake Falconer’s question was casual, the kind of gentle repetition of a phrase that allows a newcomer a graceful entrance into a conversation, but Delia and I both jumped when we heard his voice. “Sorry,” he said. “Noah and I just got tired of standing. We decided you two looked pretty comfortable. Did we interrupt something?”
“No.” Delia patted the space next to her. “Lots of room here in the cheap seats,” she said. “I was just telling Joanne how much Lily has contributed to the firm.”
Blake looked abashed. “You know, sometimes I lose sight of that myself,” he said.
Despite another heroic leap by Leah, Angus’s team lost by a single point. It was a heartbreaker, but the
RUFDC
tournament had just begun. There would be other games, other chances. The members of Blackjack came over flushed and weary.
“We’re going to get something to eat,” Angus said. “We won’t be long. Everybody has to work tomorrow.”
“Have fun,” I said.
“You’ve earned it,” Noah said. “That was a good game.”
“Not good enough,” Angus said.
“So what prize are you playing for?” Blake asked.
Angus pointed to the parking lot. “See that puke-green shit-beater over there by the dumpster?”
Blake laughed. “The one with 779ULTI painted on the side?”
“Yeah,” Angus said. “We’re playing for the right to drive that for the rest of the summer. It’s called the Bohmobile.”
“Because Boh beer is the team sponsor,” Blake said.
“Indirectly,” Angus said, grinning. “Anyway, the Boh-mobile is the prize for playing the hardest, bitching the least, writing the funniest post-game anthems, and generally demonstrating the spirit of Ultimate Flying Disc. All of which sounds pretty stupid now that I explain it.”
“It doesn’t sound stupid at all,” Blake said. “It’s a lot more sensible than always playing to win.”
There was sadness in Blake’s voice, and Angus, who wasn’t always swift to pick up on the emotions of others, reacted. “Hey,” he said softly. “There’s no rule saying you always have to play to win.” He tossed Blake the disc in his hand. “Go hard,” he said.
“Point taken,” Blake said finally. He turned to Delia. “Hey, partner, look alive.”
With surprising speed, Zack wheeled himself over the bumpy grass to join them, and when he motioned to Noah and me to come onto the field, we didn’t hesitate. The girls saw us tossing the disc around and came running. There was laughter on the field that night; there was also a sense of communion. We played until the darkness gathered and we were no longer able to keep track of the disc that was our prize. When Blake and I collided and hit the grass, Zack announced the inevitable.
“Game called,” he said. “Before there’s a lawsuit.”
Laughing and grousing, we headed for the parking lot. Delia touched my arm in a sisterly gesture. “About those slacks of yours,” she said, “they’re raw silk, aren’t they?”
“I got them on sale at the end of last summer,” I said. “Even so, the only way I could justify buying them was promising myself I’d wear them for the next ten years.”
“Maybe you could turn them into cut-offs,” Delia said.
“Or a thong,” I said. “I’d better make tracks. Zack and Taylor are waiting in the car.”
“Tonight was fun, wasn’t it?” Delia said.
“Yes,” I said. “It was.”
“We need more fun,” Delia said, and her voice broke in one of those strange little cadences that made it impossible to tell if she was laughing or crying.
Zack kept the convertible’s top down on the drive home, and Taylor provided us with spirited observations on the stars and on the signs sporting the whimsical names cottagers had given their summer homes. Suddenly, she fell silent. I turned around to check.
“Is she all right?” Zack asked.
“She’s fine,” I said. “In fact, if you listen carefully, you’ll hear her snoring. Taylor is one of the few human beings I know who can move from full throttle to deep sleep in mid-sentence.”
“Lucky Taylor,” Zack said.
Our cottage was dark when we pulled up. “Damn,” I said. “I forgot to leave on a light.”
“I hate coming home to a dark house,” Zack said. “I’ll go in with you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know,” he said, turning and pulling his folded wheelchair from the back seat. In two minutes the wheelchair was ready for action and Zack was in it. “Want to give me the keys?” he said.
I fished around in my bag for the keys and handed them to him. Then I reached into the back of the car and wakened Taylor.
“We’re home,” I said. “But you’re too big for me to carry.”
“Okay,” she mumbled.
Still more than half asleep, Taylor leaned against me and we walked into the house. I took her down to her room, helped her on with her pyjamas, and smoothed the sheets after she slipped into bed.
“Sleep tight,” I said.
Taylor opened her eyes. “Hey, I forgot to tell you. Gracie’s mum’s coming home.”
“Is Gracie happy?”
“I don’t know. She just said her mother hasn’t anywhere else to go.”
“That’s kind of sad, isn’t it?”
“It’s really sad,” Taylor said, then she rolled over and burrowed deep into her covers.
Zack was by the sideboard in the living room, holding one of the action figures from Kevin’s collection. I went to him and scrutinized the figure in his hands. “Darth Vader,” I said. “I’m going to write a learned paper on how the action figures people choose reveal their inner lives.”
“Darth Vader was the scourge of the Jedi and the master of the dark side of the force,” Zack said. “Any new insights there about me?”
“No,” I said. “That’s pretty much my take on you.”
“So who’s your choice?” Zack asked.
“Wonder Woman,” I said. “I love those bracelets, and it would be handy to have a lariat that compelled complete honesty and obedience from anyone I chose to snare.”
Zack put Darth Vader back in place. “Is it okay if I stay for a while?”
“Of course,” I said. “Would you like a drink?”
“Actually, I was thinking it might be nice to sit on that couch over there and neck.”
“I’m sweaty,” I said.
“So am I,” Zack said. “We’ll cancel each other out.”
I went over to the couch. Zack slid off his chair into the place beside me and we started to make the kinds of moves I hadn’t made since I was a teenager. They were still potent. Within minutes, it was pretty clear we were both aroused.
“If the kids come in and catch us like this, I’m going to lose my moral edge,” I said.
“Can’t have that,” Zack said. He held me close, caressing my breasts. “Except for the obvious, I don’t know where this is going, Joanne.”
“Neither do I,” I said. “But for tonight, I think the obvious will be enough.”
“You’ll come by my house after the kids get home?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’ll come by.”
After Zack left, I sprayed my ruined slacks with Spot Shot and stepped into the shower. My mind was racing. The number of sexual partners I had had during my life could be counted on three fingers: my husband, Ian; a man named Keith Harris, who had always been more friend than lover and who was still a friend; and Alex Kequahtooway. I had never been casual about sex, and yet here I was, getting ready to towel off, dress, and walk down the road to spend the night with a man I’d known for less than two weeks. Seemingly, at the age of fifty-five, I was becoming a risk-taker.
After I’d stepped out of the shower, I looked at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Thirty-three years ago, when I was certain Ian and I would become lovers, I had stood on a chair in my room in the dorm and examined my body in the mirror above my bureau. The sun was pouring through the window and my flesh glowed firm and ripe as a pear. As I looked at my body that September afternoon, I had known that Ian was a lucky man. Zack Shreve would be less lucky. Still, none of us is perfect, and he had asked.
When I heard the front door open, I felt a moment of panic. It wouldn’t be easy explaining to my son what I was about to do. As it turned out, the gods were smiling. Leah was alone in the kitchen.
“Where’s our boy?” I said.
“Probably already asleep,” she said. “There’s a truckload of meat coming in early tomorrow morning.” She sniffed the air. “You’re wearing your best perfume and mascara and your second-best summer outfit. Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Actually, I have to ask a favour,” I said. “I wonder if you’d mind keeping an ear open for Taylor. I have to go out for a while.”
“Out as in out on a date?”
“I’m going over to Zack Shreve’s.”
The smallest of frowns crinkled her brow. “Jo, are you sure about this?”
“No,” I said, “I’m not sure at all, but I’m going anyway.”
Leah dimpled. “Well, good for you. My Aunt Slava always says that summer is for bad boys.”
The front door to Zack’s house was open a crack. I stepped inside.
“I’m here,” I said.
Zack came in from the living room. He was wearing a white terry-towel robe. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“You left the door open, and you’re undressed.”
“I’m an optimistic guy.” He extended his hand. “Ready?”
The colours in Zack’s bedroom were the same as those in the rest of the house – rust, metallic grey, and white – and the furniture was just as sleek, but this room was personal, with books, papers, and photographs. The bed was large enough to get lost in. On one of the bedside tables there was a bowl of apples, on the other, a white orchid in a graceful crystal vase.
“We can share the apples,” Zack said. “But the orchid’s for you.”
“Where did you get an orchid at eleven at night?”
“I snipped it from the plant in the kitchen. Lights on or off?”
“Off,” I said. “And thanks for the flower.”
From the outset, we were surprisingly easy with one another. “This is going to involve a few adjustments,” he said. “Tell me how you feel about what I’m doing.” He slid his hand between my legs.
“I like that,” I said. “So what do I do?”
He took my hand and guided it to his nipple. “Start here.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
And so we discovered one another’s bodies. I had never been with anyone who understood a woman’s sexuality the way Zack did. What we did was different from what I was used to, but it was sublime. We fell asleep in one another’s arms, and I didn’t wake until the first light of morning. I slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom, washed my face and cursed the fact that I’d forgotten my toothbrush.