Adversaries and Lovers (10 page)

After a while, when Ben said nothing, she turned to see his reaction. The look on his face was intense. He removed his hands from her shoulders, and said in a sober voice, “Did you come up with anything else?”

Kate said nothing, her mind searching for a reason why she had not come up with other ideas. Obviously, he was disappointed with what she’d done, and she had nothing more to offer. After another long stretch of silence, she said, “I’m sorry, Ben, this is all I’ve got. Nothing else seemed to work.” She started to collect the boards.

Ben walked up and covered her hand with his. “Don’t take them away,” he said. “I’m not disappointed, just surprised. They’re not what I expected. I just need time to get used to the idea. We can talk about it.”

Kate’s eyes darted over the line-up of drawings illuminated in the bright, ochre light. They looked just as Grandma described, like the cover of a racy book. What initially seemed like a beautiful underwater dance of love now looked obscene. She felt embarrassed and humiliated that she’d been so bold as to present these to Ben, with figures looking curiously similar to the two of them and nothing more, as if she were offering herself to him.

She moved away from him, and with her hands gripping her folded arms, said simply, “Ben, I can’t so this. Something happened in the pool, I can’t explain it, but you need to get someone else. And I don’t want to get in the hot tub with you and talk about it. You can either take me home, or serve me lobster, but I don’t want to talk about this." She turned and went behind the screen to change out of her suit.

Ben stared at the mock-ups. Kate was right. Something
had
happened during their swim, something he couldn’t discuss with her. At one moment he’d held Kate close to him, then he’d felt Gayle in his arms, moving with him through the water, as if she’d come back to swim with him just one more time. And then Gayle was gone. Maybe she'd come back to say goodbye. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that she'd been there. Ever since he’d met Kate he’d felt Gayle’s presence. At times Gayle’s face would be clear in his mind, then it would merge into Kate’s. Other times Kate’s face would be there, then it would fade into Gayle’s. Yet the women were completely different. Gayle had been a gold-medal swimmer. Kate almost drowned. Gayle loved motorcycles to the point of being a daredevil. Kate gripped him like she was holding on for dear life. Gayle had not been afraid to give her love. Kate held back. And Gayle had been his whole life, was still a part of his life. But for the first time since he’d lost her, he felt as if he were betraying her. It wasn’t as if he’d had no women since Gayle’s death. Many had passed through his bed, and his life, without notice. Only Kate made him feel as if he were betraying Gayle. Only Kate made him feel something more than lust for a beautiful woman.

He loved to watch the changing color in her hazel eyes when she was excited. And when she was peeved, and her eyes sparked with indignation, all he wanted was to take her in his arms and kiss her. What he didn’t want was for her to walk out of his life. She was on the verge of doing that, and he had little time to convince her to stay.

Slipping into his clothes, he waited for her to emerge from behind the screen. When she did, she stood there, clutching her duffel bag, looking at him. He walked up to her, brushed his knuckles along her cheek, and said, “You’re right, Katie, something did happen at the pool while we were swimming, and I don’t want you to walk away from this. I want to develop your ideas because I think they’re good.”

“Fine then. What do you want me to do?” Her words were brusque.

“Just be you." She looked up at him, and he saw tears misting her eyes. He took her by the arms, and said, "Honey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. And don’t go telling me I’m too emotional. I already know that.”

Gazing at her, Ben said, “You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“What has that got to do with lobsters or swim fins or... anything?”

“Nothing," Ben said. "It’s just an observation.” He kissed her lightly. “I want to serve you lobster if you’ll stay. Like I told you before, you touch my heart. You make me want to understand what moves you. I could use a little of that.”

Kate smiled then, and her eyes sparkled with mirth. “Will the lobster be drenched in truffle butter?” she asked.

Ben smiled back. “I’ll drench it in gold dust if it will keep you here.” He gave her another light peck on the lips. “And while I’m steaming lobster and fixing all the trimmings, you can slip back into that slinky suit that looks so good on you and relax in the hot tub, alone. Then we'll have that meal I promised."

Kate glanced at the vat, a perplexed frown on her brow. "I don’t know, Ben. Things are kind of confusing right now."

"Which is why you need to relax in the hot tub. It'll clear your mind and warm your body and soul." He gave her a little nudge. "Now go."

While she soaked in the warm water, Ben's words,
something did happen at the pool while we were swimming
, kept replaying in Kate's head. He'd offered nothing more after that, and she wasn't going to press him. But she sensed that it was the key to those moments when his mask would slip away. In time, she hoped he'd open up to her.

She rested her head back and closed her eyes and contemplated the happenings of the past several days, all the while half expecting Ben to forget about lobster and truffle butter and join her in the water. But after what seemed like the better part of an hour, and Ben still hadn’t come, she climbed out of the tub, dried herself and dressed. Maybe it was for the best. Her fantasies while soaking did not include bathing suits, only her and Ben and hot water, and flesh against flesh, and entwined bodies swirling and twisting in the underwater dance of love that was beginning to dominate her thoughts…

Ben was smiling like a little boy waiting for praise when she walked into the main room of the building and saw what he’d prepared. A wine barrel with a round board on top served as a make-shift table, which was set with stainless flatware, wine goblets, wooden salad bowls brimming with greens, and molded plastic plates holding everything Ben promised, including small ceramic crocks with melted truffle butter. Half-barrels turned upside down and topped with flotation cushions from the boat, served as stools.

Kate sat across the table from Ben. After filling their goblets with wine, he made a toast. ”Here’s to old photos, raccoon coats, and a beautiful woman on a mission."

Kate touched the rim of her goblet to his and took a sip of wine. After savoring the musky flavor of what was obviously a fine Riesling, she said, “Since you’ve touched on the subject of raccoon coats, I’d like to ask you something about your grandfather.”

Ben took a sip of wine. “Umm, not exactly what I planned to talk about over lobster and wine here today, but go ahead. What about my grandfather?”

“Well, it’s just that every time my grandmother hears the name Henry Stassen, she bristles. Something happened years ago, something between our grandfathers that's still unresolved. Do you have any idea what it was?”

“Might not have been between our grandfathers,” Ben said.

Kate dipped a piece of lobster in truffle butter and looked across the table. “What makes you say that?”

Ben shrugged. “A few years back I found some old photos of your grandmother when I was going through my grandfather’s belongings after his gall bladder surgery. One of the photos was signed,
All my love, your Rosie
. I didn’t know who Rosie was at the time—the name had never come up. But when I kidded Gramps about her he about bit my head off. I’ve never brought it up since.”

Kate looked at Ben, stunned. She’d had suspicions as well, but Grandma had always seemed so happy with Grandpa that Kate couldn’t imagine her loving any other man. “How old did my grandmother look in the photos?” she asked.

“Young. Seventeen or eighteen. It was during the war because in one photo of them together, Gramps had on his uniform and looked like a new recruit, probably just before he shipped out.” Ben went on to tell Kate some facts about Henry Stassen that she found curious, might even answer some questions that had been hovering in her mind of late. When the moment was right, she’d broach the subject with Grandma.

She looked at Ben. “And while we’re on the subject of my grandmother…”

He raised his hand in protest and gave her his wry, one-sided smile. “I’m trying to wine and dine a beautiful woman and she wants to talk about her grandmother.”

“Yes, well...” Kate cut a wedge of lobster, speared it with her fork and said, “This is a wonderful meal, Ben, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still going to fight you on the zoning issue. I won’t give it up.”

“I don’t expect you to give it up,” Ben said. “In fact, I’d be disappointed if you did. I’d miss seeing your presentation before the planning board. You’re always full of surprises, and you’ll keep me on my toes.”

“I don’t want to keep you on your toes," she said. "I want you to see what you’re doing to my grandmother and all the rest of those wonderful old people and find another location for your building!” She popped the piece of lobster into her mouth and speared another.

Ben reached out and caught her wrist, stopping the fork with a piece of lobster perched on its tines. “Honey, you might try tasting that lobster before you swallow it."

Kate rested her fork holding the lobster on her plate, looked at Ben, and said, “Is there anything I can say or do to convince you to build somewhere else?”

He looked steadily at her, and replied, “The location of the corporate office will be based solely on a business decision. Nothing more. Nothing less. Whatever's between us will have no bearing on my final decision. Now finish eating. Your food’s getting cold.”

Kate felt like a child who’d just been chastised. Ben’s autocratic attitude also made her more determined than ever to stay on course and fight the zoning issue to the bitter end. But she also knew that Ben had no patience with people who tried to manipulate him, and she couldn’t deny, she’d been doing exactly that from the start, wholly to soften him up so he’d change the location of the corporate offices.

Now, it was becoming evident that he’d turned the tables on her as well. This hot-tub set-up and cozy little lobster-with-all-the-trimmings meal was obviously nothing more than his means of softening her up so she’d drop the issue. Well, the gloves were off now and she was ready for a bare-fist fight. And they were starting on even ground. She could handle, unemotionally, anything he dished out now because the silly female dance-of-love-fantasy that had dominated her thoughts of late was no longer a threat. She, too, had a wall around her heart, one he’d placed there. She felt an odd sense of satisfaction.

CHAPTER SIX

After a week, Kate had still not heard from Ben. The remainder of their day at Cooper’s Landing had been tense. Ben became distant again, and Kate was angry and upset with his insensitive attitude in regards to the old folks. In a kind of unspoken agreement that day, Kate claimed she wanted to explore the town, and Ben said he needed to clean some wine barrels in the cooperage. Conversation, what there was of it, did not include swim fins, zoning changes, or corporate offices. And when Ben dropped her off later that day, he walked her half way to the door, and left her with the words,
I’ll be in touch
.

He did, however, ask to keep the swim fin illustrations.

But her resolve to suppress thoughts of him had not held. He seemed to dominate her mind. The drone of a motorcycle brought her scurrying to the window. The phone ringing had her rushing to pick it up. Her nightly bath re-awakened her underwater dance-of-love fantasy, until all she saw was Ben. One moment she’d see devilish sparks in his eyes and a playful smile on his lips as he said something droll like,
A prudent spider prepares a soft place to land
.  The next moment his face would be sober, his eyes warm and sincere as he looked down at her and said,
You touch my heart, Katie
. And then there were those dark moments when his face was inscrutable, his gaze distant...

“You gonna sit there with your head in the clouds, girl, or are you gonna finish getting that poster ready?” Grandma’s voice cut into her thoughts. “You act like you’re mooning over a man. You’re not sweet on Henry Stassen’s grandson, are you?”

“Heavens no!” Kate said quickly. She glanced over at Grandma, who'd returned to her task of lettering words on a poster board for the protest march. “But while we’re on the subject of Henry Stassen,” Kate said, guiding the conversation to safer ground, “did you know he had an artificial leg?”

The felt-tipped marking pen in Grandma’s hand stilled. After a few moments, she said, "I wouldn’t know about that,” then continued lettering, seeming to have dismissed the subject.

When Grandma made no attempt to glean from Kate the reason Henry had lost his leg, Kate said, “Don’t you want to know why?”

Without looking up, Grandma replied, “What happened to Henry’s leg is no concern of mine. Hand me that other marker, the red one.”

Kate handed her the marker. She knew from Grandma’s edgy voice and the slight shake to her normally steady hand that she was not unaffected by what she'd just learned. Kate also knew that during the war, Grandma had had, in the very least, a fleeting relationship with Henry. And after what Ben told her, she was all but certain that the packet of letters in Grandma’s trunk had come from Henry. After a long stretch of silence, when Grandma asked no questions about Henry's leg, Kate went on to explain, deciding Grandma should know the rest.“It seems that Henry was engaged to a young woman when he went off to war, and after he had his leg blown off, he broke off the engagement because he didn’t want to burden his bride-to-be with a cripple. According to Ben, he married the nurse who took care of him, but never stopped loving his fianceé.”

Grandma seemed at a loss for words, and when she offered nothing, Kate said, “Were you Henry’s bride-to-be?”

After a few moments, Grandma replied, “That was a long time ago.” She slapped the marker on the table, stalked into her bedroom and shut the door.