Celebration (18 page)

“Maureen called and told me. I went there to spy on you. I'm not sorry.”

Kristine smiled in the darkness. “Tomorrow you will be. Finish the coffee and sleep it off.”

“Are we still friends?”

“We're still friends, Woodie. Come with me. You can sleep on the sofa. There's no way I'm going to try to get you upstairs.”

“I'm drunk, Kristine. The last time I got drunk was the day my divorce from Maureen was final. Bankers have to be pillars of society. We're a boring lot, kind of like those number crunchers. I'm going to get some deck shoes.”

“Deck shoes are good,” Kristine said, “if they still call them that.”

“Some yellow Calvin Klein underwear.”

“I like yellow. Yellow's good.”

“Maybe a bright blue Speedo.”

“Uh-huh.” Kristine turned so Woodie wouldn't see her wide grin.

“Maybe some hair plugs and that Grecian Formula they advertise on television.”

“I don't know how you've managed to get this far without either one of them. We'll talk about it tomorrow, Woodie. Go to sleep now.”

“Will you park the bus?”

“Pete did. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“I heard but I don't think I understand,” Pete said after Woodie lurched inside.

“He's jealous of you. I think I understand everything except the Speedo and the yellow Calvin Kleins.”

“Jeez, do they come in colors? I'm a boxer man myself.”

Kristine giggled as she scooped up the dogs. “You were right, Pete. One should never assume or presume.”

“What are you going to do come morning?” Pete asked.

“Wing it. Talk it out. Woodie wants things from me I'm not ready to give. I don't know if I'll ever be ready. I truly care for him. It's me, not him. I just need more time.”

“Time isn't always the great healer we all think it is, Kristine. Sometimes you need to run with the ball when it's in your court. If you don't, you lose it.”

“I'll remember that. Life isn't easy, is it?”

“I don't think we'd be happy if it was. We need to get shaken up from time to time to make us realize how wonderful life really is. And, on that note, I'm off to bed.”

“Thanks for a great evening. Thanks for your concern, and thanks for being my friend.”

“Sleep tight, boss,” Pete said, hugging her.

Both dogs in her arms, Kristine stood next to the sofa where Woodie was already sleeping. She watched his chest rise and fall with his deep breathing. “Shhh,” she said to the dogs when both of them whimpered in her arms. “He's fine. He's just sleeping. Everything is okay now. It's kind of nice to have a man in the house again, even if he is drunk and sleeping on our couch,” she whispered as she made her way up the long flight of steps to the second floor.

Kristine rolled over before she cracked one eye open to see warm, glorious sunshine shooting into the room. Gracie and Slick danced on the bed. Clearly it was time to let the little dogs out for their morning race to the barn. She sniffed. Was that bacon and coffee she smelled?

“Five minutes. I have to brush my teeth. Don't you pee now. All I need is five minutes with my toothbrush and a comb.”

The heady aroma of frying bacon and brewing coffee cut Kristine's five-minute morning ritual to three before she raced down the steps, her slippers slapping on the stair treads, her robe flapping in her own breeze, the dogs in hot pursuit.

She skidded to a stop at the kitchen doorway. Slightly disheveled and definitely bleary-eyed, Woodie was instructing Jackson Valarian on the fine art of omelet marking as they tiptoed about the mess on the floor. “We're dining on the back porch this morning,” he said.

“Oh,” was all Kristine could think of to say as she held the door for the dogs.

“Both of you look awful,” she added brightly as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “I'll be on the porch. I like my toast light with soft butter, and I'm partial to blackberry jam.”

Woodie winced. “Looking is one thing. Feeling is something else. In my case, I feel like I look. Jackson here is just tired. He claims to have worked all night. Pete will be up in a few minutes. I'll apologize to you both at the same time.”

Kristine nodded. “Tomato juice with Tabasco and a shot of lemon will help. I used to be a drunk, remember?” Woodie winced again. Jackson stared at his hostess, bug-eyed. Kristine didn't feel the need to explain her words.

“Morning, Pete,” Kristine said as she sat down at the table. “I could get used to someone making me breakfast every morning. How about you?”

“It sure beats those Pop-Tarts you toss me every morning.” Pete grinned. “He looks like shit!”

“Yes, he does. I think it's safe to say he feels the same way. We need to be charitable. He said he's going to apologize to both of us. It seems like forever since there were four people at my breakfast table,” Kristine said, a wistful look on her face.

“Kristine, your son Mike called. He wants you to call him back. I offered to wake you, but he said not to. I guess he forgot the time difference.”

“What time did he call?”

“Six-thirty on the button.”

“But that would make it three-thirty in the morning California time. Did he say anything was wrong?”

“No. He just said to call him. Here's the number.”

Her heart in her throat, Kristine managed to weave her way through the piles of books and journals that were scattered all over the kitchen floor. At the expression on her face, Woodie turned off the stove and waited expectantly as Kristine dialed her son's telephone number.

“Mike, what's wrong? I know something is wrong or you wouldn't have called here at three-thirty in the morning.”

“Listen, Mom, don't get excited now. Sit down, and I'll tell you what happened. Cala had a date this evening. I met the guy. He seemed okay. Nothing like Tom. That fell by the wayside a few weeks ago. Anyway, they were driving home and the guy put the moves on Cala, and one thing led to another. It got physical, and she got banged up pretty bad. The guy is in the hospital. She broke his collarbone and he's pressing assault charges on her. I can take care of police matters here. I want to send her home to you, Mom. The company we work for has a private jet, and some of the officers are heading for Washington today. They offered to take Cala. Is it okay?”

“Of course it's okay. Are you sure she should be traveling? Did she see a doctor? Are you sure she's okay? Don't spare my feelings so I won't worry. I'll drive to Washington to pick her up. Just tell me where.”

“I'll have to get back to you on that. At first Cala didn't want you to know. She looks pretty bad, Mom. She needs some mothering. Can you handle it, Mom?”

“How bad is bad, Mike?”

“She has a couple of cracked ribs. They treated her at the hospital. She's black-and-blue all over. She's got some stitches in her forehead. I think she's more angry than anything else for allowing herself to get into that kind of position.”

“I can take a plane and be there in a few hours, Mike. Pete can take care of things here.”

“Mom! Didn't you hear what I said? Cala wants to go home. She
needs
you.”

Kristine felt herself start to shrivel as she listened to the disgust in her son's voice. “I was thinking she might not want anyone to see her in that condition.”

“Cala doesn't care about that, Mom. You worry about the damnedest things sometimes.”

“Yes, I guess I do. I'll do everything I can. When will you know the flight arrangements?”

“An hour or so. She's okay, Mom. She isn't going to die or anything like that. I'm going to go to the hospital to check on that bastard that did this to her. I'll call you when I know something.”

“That's good, Mike. I'll wait for your call. Please, don't do anything foolish where that person is concerned.”

“Yeah, sure, Mom. I gotta go now.”

Kristine turned away from the phone to see the three men staring at her. “I guess you heard. That was my son Mike. It seems Cala's date attacked her, and she ended up sending him to the hospital.”

“What a gal!” Pete chortled.

“She ... she has a few cracked ribs. Some stitches and, according to Mike, is black-and-blue. The people she works for are coming East on their private plane and she's going to be with them. Cala is okay, she isn't going to die or anything,” Kristine said, repeating her son's words.

“I can have someone from my paper pick up your daughter,” Jack said.

“I'll be glad to go, Kristine,” Pete said. “You're too emotional to drive.”

“I can go with Pete,” Woodie said.

“This is something I have to do. Me. Myself. Besides, I want to do it. I want my face to be the first one she sees when she gets off the plane. I appreciate your offers, though. Now, I believe someone said something about breakfast,” Kristine said, walking out to the back porch.

Following Kristine's cue, the others made small talk, mostly about the mess on the kitchen floor.

“Would you mind, Mrs. Kelly, if I moved the books and journals to the dining room? I realize I'm in your way in the kitchen, and I'm sorry for the mess. I need to lay out the books and label them so I can make a chronological calendar, if that's all right with you.” Kristine nodded. “It was a good breakfast, Mr. Dunwoodie. Would you like me to clean up?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Pete said. Woodie seconded Pete's statement. Kristine stared off into space.

“Why is it nothing ever goes right?” she said, breaking her silence.

“It's called life,” Woodie said.

“I wouldn't know what to do or how to act if things went right every day. I kind of think life would be boring. It's not knowing what's coming next that makes you want to keep on going. Since I'm not needed here, I'll go to the barn. Come on Gracie. Slick, hop on,” Pete said, stooping down so both little dogs could perch on his shoulders.

“I don't remember ever having that much energy,” Kristine said.

“Me either,” Woodie volunteered. “Kristine, I know this isn't the time or the place, but we do need to talk. I've never been as miserable as I've been these last three weeks. I love you, and I want us to be together. If I can't have that, then I'm willing to settle for whatever you feel comfortable giving me. Plain and simple. I don't want to lose you. That said, I'm going to go home and clean up. I apologize for last night. If there's anything I can do or help you with in regard to Cala, call, okay?”

“Woodie, I'm sorry, too. The mind is a dangerous thing. I thought the worst of you, and you felt the same way about me. I was jealous when I saw you with Maureen. I started to think you were like Logan. I'm so glad you had the good sense to come here last night, or we might still be at odds and never know it was all a big mistake. I still can't believe you drove through the fields in your condition.”

“I guess I was feeling desperate. Under normal circumstances, I would never drink and get behind the wheel of a car. Or, I was out of my mind.”

Kristine smiled. “All's well that ends well. God, Woodie, you don't think Mike was lying to me, do you?”

“Your son would never lie about his twin sister. I'll call you tonight; is that okay?”

“That's very okay. You better make it late to be sure I'm back from Washington.”

“Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?”

“I have to do this myself. I'm getting a second chance at motherhood, and I don't want to mess that up. You need to go to the gym and work off that hangover.”

“Drive carefully.”

“I will.”

Kristine waited until Woodie backed up the bank's bus before she motioned for him to stop. “Just for the record,” she called out, “he wears boxers.” Woodie's laughter warmed her heart and stayed with her as she finished her coffee, her thoughts centering on her children and Cala in particular.

 

 

Nothing in the world could have prepared Kristine for the first sight of her daughter's bruised and battered face. For one brief instant she thought her heart was going to leap out of her chest. Rage, unlike anything she'd ever experienced, coursed through her as her daughter stepped into her waiting arms. She knew in that one moment of time she was capable of killing the person who had done this despicable thing to her daughter.

“Mom, this is Mr. Ulyesses, Mike's boss.”

“Thank you so much for bringing my daughter with you, Mr. Ulyesses,” Kristine said, extending her hand.