The Agreement (26 page)

I laughed, in spite of my sadness.
"No," I said, smiling just a bit. "She volunteered in India with
Mother Theresa's charity. She's trying to set me up, too."

"The Greg fellow? He was a bust."

"Daddy! He was a nice young man. He just
finished his MFA…"

"Extremely milquetoast, if I recall…"
my father said, shaking his head. "Not your type."

I frowned and examined him closely. "What
is
my type?"

He picked up his glass of scotch and took a sip.
"Someone like Drake Morgan, I'd say. Or at least I thought so, which is
why I encouraged it."

Someone like Drake Morgan…

I sat there, frowning to myself, surprised at
this turn of events.

"And what is Drake Morgan like?"

"He's very intelligent, capable, strong,
confident, professional. He's a man's man, but he knows how to treat a woman,
I'd say, judging by the attention he gave you at the dinner party and the
concert. I know him very well, Katherine, and I thought he was just about
perfect for you." He shrugged. "But I guess if you don’t like him, I
was wrong. Usually, I'm a very good judge of character. I pride myself on it,
given I have to judge people all the time."

"I
do
like him, Daddy. It's just not
going to work out."

"Shame." He drank the rest of his
scotch down. "Why don't you get your old man a refill and get yourself
something to drink? The sun's over the yardarm. There's a girl."

He handed me his empty glass and I nodded,
returning to the living room and the bar. As I refilled his scotch, I felt such
conflicting emotions. My father actually thought about the kind of man I
needed…

He thought Drake was that kind of man.

After a casual dinner with Elaine, we three sat
in the den and listened to music, something way too abstract for me, modern
classical, chatting about nothing in particular. I forced myself to stay with
them as long as possible, the sadness building inside of me. Finally, I
couldn’t take it any longer and faked a yawn and stood, ready for escape.

"I'm going to bed early. I've had a busy
day and I've got lots of work on my plate tomorrow."

"Good night sweetheart," my father
said when I leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. "Sweet dreams. I'm sure
things will all work out with Drake."

"I don't think so, Daddy."

"Well, these things have a way of working
out for the best eventually."

I went to my room, a sickness in my gut that
this was
not
going to work out between Drake and me the way my father
thought. I was tempted to check my mail to see if Drake had written or texted
me, but I fought the urge. After washing my face and brushing my teeth in my
old bathroom off my bedroom, I crept onto the huge four-poster bed and under
the quilt. I lay in the darkness, thinking about Drake. He
was
strong,
competent, professional. He did know how to treat a woman. Make her feel as if
she was the center of his attention.

I tossed and turned for quite a while, wondering
if I'd ever see him again, finally dissolving into tears at the thought I might
not.

I skipped classes the next morning, deciding to
work on my paper instead. I tried to work at my father's apartment, but had
left an important file at my apartment, so after lunch, I said goodbye to my
father as he sat in his study, on the phone. I went to my front door and of
course, someone had propped open the door. I kicked the cardboard out that was
used to prop the door open and went up the stairs. Inside, I found my files and
put them in my backpack. A light flashed on my answering machine on the
landline, and I checked the record of callers. Drake showed up several times as
did Dawn's number.

Finally, I took out my cell and sat on the
couch, checking my email and texts.

There were several from Drake.

Kate, please call me.

Kate, what happened? You were fine when I left
you…

Will you at least answer my texts so I know
you're OK?

The last one was from just a few moments earlier.

Kate, I'm coming over to talk to you. Please
give me the chance to make it right…

If he came over, if I got within arm's reach of
him, I knew I’d cave and if Dawn caught wind of me still seeing him, she'd get
him in trouble. I grabbed my coat and backpack and left the apartment, rushing
down the stairs to the back alley. I slipped along the streets, and then
doubled back, going to my favorite deli across from my apartment building,
entering from the back door on the alley. I went to a small table in the bay
window so I could watch in case Drake arrived. I sat with my cup of tea and
kept an eye on the street.

Sure enough, in about ten minutes, Drake's sleek
black car drove up. He double-parked and then he left the car and ran up to my
building's front door. He was wearing his scrubs and lab coat, a little blue
scrub cap still on his head. He stood at the door and jiggled it, but couldn’t
get inside. There was no buzzer system so he was out of luck. As I watched, he
took out his cell, tapped on the screen and then held it up to his ear.

Seconds later, my cell buzzed. I checked it and
the call display read
Drake Morgan, MD
.

I refused the call, sending him to my voicemail.

My heart sped up to see him, and I felt a real
pang of guilt and sadness at what happened but I couldn’t see any way out of
it. I had to just end it. I was mortified that I was so careless with the
agreement that Dawn found it.

He sat on the steps and just redialed. Again and
again. As I watched out the window, he typed on his cell.

At least tell me why you don't want to be with
me. What was it? Did the contract scare you? Don't be afraid, Kate. You can
strike off anything that you don't want to do. I just included those things
that I know probably upset you so you'd have something to cross off. I don't
need to do them. I don’t need to do anything that you don’t want to do. I want
to be with you.

Please, give this time.

My heart actually hurt as I read his text, like
a knife in my chest and my throat choked up. At that moment, I hated Dawn so
much…

Drake, I'm doing this for you. To protect
you.  I can't say anything more but you have to stop trying to see me. You
have to just stop for your own good.  I can't say more….

I'm sorry…

Then I shut off my phone and watched him. He
persisted for a while but then stopped, going to his car and driving off. I bit
my lip to stop my tears.

I just lay around my apartment all afternoon,
spending time there after Drake left, lying on the couch watching stupid soap
operas. Finally, before supper, I walked back to my father's apartment. I went
right to my bedroom and closed the door, sad that I was not going to be with
Drake. I sat on the bed and just wiped my face as tears flowed, unable to stop
them now that I was back at my father's apartment. After a few moments, I heard
a knock at my door.

"Sweetheart? Can I come in."

"No," I said, my voice breaking.

"How come? You sound like you need to
talk."

"I need to be alone."

The door opened and he came in anyway, sitting
next to me on the bed. He put his arm around me and squeezed me, and that only
made me cry even harder.

"There, there,
doll
," he said,
grabbing a tissue off my night table. "This Drake misunderstanding has
really upset you."

"It's not a misunderstanding. It's just not
going to work out."

He just sat with me for a moment as I finally
got hold of myself.

"Look, you have some time off next week. I
was thinking you should come down to the Bahamas with us for the weekend. Get
away from it all. Sun, sand, white beaches, lots of tropical drinks. You've
been working like a dog for years, Kate. Some R&R would be good for you.
What do you think?"

"When would you want to go?"

"Next Wednesday over the Thanksgiving
weekend. Will you be able to sneak away?"

I thought about it. I did have some time off and
really, the idea of getting away from everything appealed to me.

I nodded. "I just have to hand in an
article to the student newspaper."

"Good. We'll get a ticket for you. We'll
get a couple of suites at the British Colonial Hilton in Nassau, on Paradise
Island so there's more than enough room. We can do some snorkeling, scuba
diving, or nothing at all. Whatever you want."

I smiled and leaned against him, surprised that
he was being so attentive and thoughtful.

The following week went faster than I imagined.
I ignored and deleted all of Drake's and Dawn's texts and emails unread. To my
surprise, Drake didn't show up at my doorstep and I was sad but relieved. At
least I wouldn't have to deal with him.

He must have finally given up.

Each night I tossed and turned in my bed at my
father's house, remembering everything that happened between Drake and me
before falling into a fitful sleep. Each day I went through the motions of my
life, rushing through things in the hope that one more day would be over and I
could go back to sleep – a dangerous state I'd been in after my trip to
Africa. I recognized the symptoms of depression and couldn't wait for a change
of scenery. I figured going to the Bahamas would provide me an escape from the
reminders of what almost, but didn't quite, happen between Drake and me.

I spent an all-nighter getting an article
finished for
Geist
on Tuesday. I packed a small bag with summer clothes
from storage, sundresses, sandals and a bikini and bought some sunscreen and
sunglasses at the local drugstore.

The Wednesday evening flight took us right to
the Bahamas and a limo drove us to beautiful resort on the water. The British
Colonial Hilton looked like a huge plantation with white sand beaches and palm
trees. We arrived late that night and went right to our rooms, which were
adjoining,  each suite a one bedroom with separate living areas.

I was exhausted. Maybe just the thought that I
was away from everything, my article written, with no work ahead of me for four
glorious days, made me collapse into bed. I fell asleep in minutes, the bedside
lamp still on.

I slept late and my father didn't wake me as he
usually would have for an early morning walk on the beach. Instead, there was a
note from him slipped under my door. They let me sleep in, not wanting to wake
me on the first day of my very short vacation.

Katherine,

Take your time this morning and just rest. Go
for a walk on the beach. We've already had breakfast and have gone for a boat
ride. Meet us at the restaurant at noon for lunch. Then, we'll go scuba diving
in the afternoon. We have lessons booked. Tonight, we'll have a nice
Thanksgiving Dinner. The hotel puts on a great spread for American guests.

Love, Dad and Elaine

It was 11:00. I got up and went to the window to
look out over the ocean. The weather was perfect, the sky clear, the water
azure, the sand white. Palm trees swayed in the breeze and people took their
places on the beach.

After a shower, I put on my white bikini and
favorite piece of clothing for summer – a little white eyelet sundress
with thin straps. I was white as a ghost, my fair skin guaranteed to burn
unless I slathered on copious amounts of sunscreen, which I did. Before I met
with my father and Elaine, I slipped out the front door to the beach and took
off my sundress, holding it as I walked along, hoping to soak up a few rays of
sun, avoiding the tourists, ankle-deep in the surf. I kept my face in the sun
to get some color. I intended to only be out on the beach for ten minutes, but
I got busy wading along, holding my sundress up, my legs in the cool water. It
was so quiet and peaceful, I just walked and walked, stopping now and then to
pick up a stray shell or examine a piece of driftwood that washed up on the
shore.

Finally, realizing I'd been gone for longer than
I intended, I turned back and made my way to the hotel. My cheeks were already
hot from the sun and the fact I'd left my sunhat in the room, not planning to
be away for so long. I could already see a bit of red on my exposed skin
despite the sunscreen.

I put my sundress back on and went into the
hotel to the restaurant, for I was already late. It was then I saw a billboard
in the lobby with a list of conventions being held at the hotel that week. A
variety, but most had a medical theme. One in particular caught my eye: