Designed to Love (10 page)

CAT

"Mrs. Callahan, what are you going to order
for breakfast?" Ronan asks, grinning as he sits across from me in
the restaurant. Ever since our wedding, almost a week ago he
frequently refers to me in this way. He says he'll never get tired
of hearing me addressed with his last name, and when I jokingly
tell him I'm thinking about keeping my maiden name, he just about
chokes on his orange juice. When it comes to me, he has definite
traditional values and ideas.

"I think I'll have pancakes today, Mr.
Callahan," I reply playfully, setting my menu aside. "So, are you
ready for today?" I ask, feeling the excitement build up as I
glance out the window at the diehard skiers and snowboarders
braving the cold, just to be the first ones out on the slopes. I
used to be one of them.

"Yep," he replies confidently. He has never
skied before in his life, and even though I've tried to tell him
that it takes a while to get the hang of it, he assures me that he
will be able to keep up.

"Ronan, I qualified for the Junior Olympic
ski team. I don't expect you to be able to keep up with me. It's
not something that you become instantly good at on the first day,"
I say, trying not to sound impatient with him.

He simply replies, "We'll see," and
continues looking over the menu.

Hmm, we'll see indeed,
Mr. Callahan,
I think to myself, already making up my
mind that I wasn't going to go easy on him at all now.

When planning our honeymoon, we couldn't
decide between sun and surf, or snow and ice, so we split the
vacation up, spending the first week in Hawaii and the second week
now in Tahoe, California. I was glad Ronan was the type of guy
willing to try anything and admittedly he did pick up surfing very
quickly, but snow skiing was different. There were a lot of
competing elements that required a certain learning curve to
master. It wasn't as simple as climbing on a board barefoot and
letting a wave carry you to shore. However, no matter how many
times I've tried to explain this to him, he still has it in his
mind that somehow he's immune to the effects of such things
as...gravity.

***

"Following you," Ronan says good-naturedly,
as we dismount the chair lift and I push off ahead of him to
traverse across the ridgeline. I stop at Silverado, the black
diamond run that I nearly killed myself on three years ago, while
competing in a ski race. There are butterflies in my stomach as I
point my skis over the ridge and look down the near vertical
mountainside. I look over at Ronan and feel a twinge of guilt when
he smiles at me lovingly. He reacted offensively when I offered to
start out on one of the easier runs, so I irresponsibly decided to
take him straight to the top to teach him a lesson. Now, an image
of him careening down the mountain out of control has me regretting
my decision.

In my moment of contemplation, he says,
"Cataryn, if you're afraid, I can go first."

That was the wrong
thing to say to me buddy,
I think, instantly abandoning
all feelings of guilt. Without a word, I lunge myself over the edge
and effortlessly glide down the mountain, making short radius,
parallel turns at a moderate to fast speed. Only when I am midway
down the mountain do I stop to wait for him, half expecting to have
to hike back up the mountain to help him down.

Had I not caught a glimpse of the uncommon
orange stripe on his ski helmet, I might have missed him go by me
altogether. He whizzes past me, mimicking my technique, in a
controlled descent down the mountain and it takes my full effort
and focus to catch him. When we reach the bottom, he pulls his
helmet off and breathlessly exclaims, "This is awesome!"

"Why did you lie to me?" I demand, stunning
him with my outburst.

"Cat, what are you talking about? I've never
lied to you," he responds innocently, making me even angrier.

"Ronan, it took me eight years of lessons
and skiing twenty hours a week to get to that skill level. Do you
really expect me to believe that you have never been skiing in your
entire life?" I say, feeling hurt that he would deceive me.

"Yes, I do expect you to believe me," he
says quietly. "Always..."

He releases his boots from the bindings,
walks over and plops down in a snow bank, motioning me to join
him.

"Look Cat, ever since I can remember, my
body has responded like this. Once I have a clear image of the
action I am supposed to perform, my body just does it. There really
isn't a learning curve with me. When I was four, I got on a bike
and just started riding it. I've never fallen once. My body can
easily duplicate any action, once it's imprinted in my mind. I
don't even have to think about it, it just happens. I'm sorry. I
just wanted to have fun with you today. If I would have known that
it was going to bother you, I would have copied one of the beginner
skiers and stayed on the green runs today," he says sadly.

I shake my head in disbelief, considering
the implications of having such an extraordinary ability. "You
could be an Olympic skier with less than a year of training under
your belt," I say in awe.

"Cat, having things come so easy, isn't
necessarily a good thing," he says slowly, while he aimlessly forms
a snowball and throws it, hitting the helmet of an unsuspecting
skier who is racing down the mountain, over 200 feet from where we
sit. The skier barely notices and Ronan makes his point. Not even a
professional football quarterback could hit a target like that.

"I've been cheated out of every important
challenge in life. I have no idea what it feels like to dream,
plan, and work hard to achieve something. Everything has always
come too easy for me. I could never become an Olympic champion
because it would be unfair taking a title away from a top athlete
who has spent a lifetime trying to achieve what would take me only
a matter of days." He pauses and rests his head in his hands
staring down at the snow, and before I have a chance to reply he
says, "I admire the fact that you worked hard for eight years to
become a terrific skier. That's a good thing Cat. You should be
proud of yourself."

"Wow Ronan, I'm sorry. I had no idea," I
say, feeling slightly embarrassed that I didn't know something so
important about my own husband. I study him in silence for a moment
yearning to erase the troubled look off his face.

"If I would have known that you needed a
challenge, I would have refused that first motorcycle ride," I
finally offer.

"The hell you would have," he replies,
laughing as he tosses a snowball at my head.

"I'm still faster than you," I say, jumping
up suddenly to get my skies on before him. Then, just to be sure he
doesn't pass me, I grab one of his skis and drag it thirty yards
behind me before dropping it in the snow bank.

We spend the remainder of the day skiing
every black diamond run on the mountain, before we call it quits,
and Ronan says he's officially hooked on snow skiing. I even got
him to sing on the chairlift with me. I have to admit, his
extraordinary learning ability is making the whole ski vacation a
complete blast and by the end of the second day, we are already
making plans to come back with Claire.

***

"Mrs. Callahan, are you done in there?"
Ronan asks impatiently.

"Almost," I reply, as I quickly apply the
finishing touches of make-up, and then take a step back to survey
myself in the mirror. Normally, I wear very little make-up, so the
added eyeliner and red lipstick is shocking to me. The hot rollers
that I used to curl my normally straight hair make it look three
times fuller, and the soft waves frame my face, accentuating the
eyes and lips even more. Ronan had sent me shopping for a nice
formal dress, so we could dine at the Ritz Carlton restaurant at
Northstar tonight. I went completely out of my comfort zone,
purchasing a bright red dress that the owner of the small boutique
said would make me look sexy and mature. He even talked me into
purchasing the make-up and a pair of two-inch high heels.

Now, as I look at my reflection in the
mirror, for the first time in my life, I am plagued with doubt and
insecurity over my appearance.

"Sexy and mature my ass. I look like a
prostitute," I mutter, as I frantically try to blot the lip stick
without smearing it.

"Cat, we have dinner reservations in twenty.
Are you almost finished?" he asks again, sounding more anxious.

"Ronan, I can't go."

"What do you mean you can't go?" he asks, in
such a way that I can tell he thinks I'm joking.

"I don't have anything to wear," I say,
pulling a bathrobe on over the red dress, and plopping down on the
edge of the tub.

"Um, I thought you went shopping and bought
a dress today?" he says, as he opens the door and peeks his head
around the corner. Of course, he looks striking, dressed in a black
Gucci suit with a red, black, and golden tie that he purchased to
coordinate with my red dress.

"I did, but it looks silly. I can't wear
it," I reply, hating that I sound pouty and childish.

"So you thought a bathrobe would be a better
choice?" he questions, trying not to smile.

When I don't react, he says, "Can I see it?"
and holds out his hand to help me up.

Reluctantly, I stand up and face the mirror
and he comes up behind me, slowly removing the bathrobe from my
shoulders. I watch his expression in the mirror and my heart sinks
when he raises one eyebrow, confirming to me how ridiculous I must
look.

"Hmm," he says, as his eyes slowly migrate
from my head down to my feet. "Well, your hair looks beautiful. I
like the way it's curled and parted on the side. The make-up isn't
bad, but you're beautiful without it. And the dress..." His eyes
linger on the plunging neckline that shows almost as much cleavage
as some of the sexy lingerie I brought with me. "Yeah, I think the
dress is a problem," he says and my heart sinks.

"I don't have anything else..." I start to
protest before he interrupts me.

"The dress is a problem, because I will
spend the whole evening fighting off every male in the restaurant,"
he finishes, laughing softly.

"Cataryn, you look stunning," he says,
wrapping his arms around my waist. "Now go get your coat and let's
go eat, before my desire for you becomes stronger than my desire
for food right now."

He waits until we are alone in the elevator
before he pulls me close and starts softly singing, "Lady in
red."

***

The first sex talk my mom had with me was
when I turned ten years old, and she did a pretty good job of
making sure I knew how my body worked and how babies were made. The
second sex talk was right before my fifteenth birthday, when I came
to her with questions of my own. The kids in school were talking,
and some of what they were saying seemed pretty farfetched to me,
so I figured there was no one better than a doctor to give it to me
straight. Lucky for me, she was as comfortable with sexuality as
she was spirituality and didn't shy away from answering my
questions thoroughly. The information that she shared with me that
day, gave me the confidence to express myself fully. Each time
we're together, we discover something new and there is equality in
what we take and give back to each other. Ronan says, he was
designed to love me and that I am his soul mate for life. Neither
of us have regrets that we didn't come to our marriage with
previous sexual experiences and I couldn't fathom being this
physically connected to a person I didn't love as much as I love
him.

***

"Do I make you happy Mrs. Callahan?" Ronan
asks after we are settled into our seats on the flight back to
Canada.

"Nope, not at all. I'm miserable and I am
going to file for a divorce as soon as we get home," I respond,
yawning as I lay my head against his chest.

His arm tightens around my shoulder and he
murmurs, "Not funny. Don't even joke about such a thing."

Before I have a chance to reply, the flight
attendant pushing a beverage cart stops near our seats and offers
us a cocktail for the second time. Ronan claims that they are
always more attentive in first class seating, but when I came out
of the restroom to find her tucking a pillow behind his head with
her breasts right at his eye level, I surmised she was offering him
more than just comfort measures. I don't bother opening my eyes
now. I've already seen that she's gorgeous and perfectly put
together, making me feel even grungier in my coffee stained
sweatshirt, so instead, I slip my hand out from under the blanket
and strategically place it on his chest, making sure the large
diamond wedding band on my third finger is blatantly visible. Ronan
politely declines for both of us and I feel his chest shake beneath
my cheek as he silently chuckles, when she walks away. Somewhere
over Washington, we both fall asleep and don't wake up again until
the pilot announces our descent into Calgary Canada. With the
honeymoon over, we both have obligations to face and my pulse
quickens when the reality of returning home as husband and wife
fully sinks in.

CAT

Taking advantage of the last clear day
before the anticipated snow storm hits tomorrow, I wake up early to
get in some additional flying hours with Marti Campbell. Ronan and
the other Designers have training of a different kind planned for
today. Bernie Stoddard left them with an intense workout regime
that included a combination of running, swimming, jumping, climbing
and telekinetic exercises. The whole downstairs indoor pool room
was expanded to accommodate the new specialized equipment that
Bernie installed. If they did exactly as she ordered, it would take
them most of the day to complete the routines.