A Sea Change (22 page)

“So, that’s Becky’s real dad?”

“Uh huh,” Pink-Top said. “He’s pretty nice. Makes you wonder what he ever saw in Janet.”

Blonde Number Two snorted, then said, “Pretty nice looking, too.”

“You should see him up close.”

“That good, huh?”

Pink-Top’s response was lost in the roar of a plane’s engines that passed overhead. When Maddy could hear again, the topic had changed, but not the subject.

“What do you suppose she’ll do when Jim’s career takes a nose dive?”

“Find another, younger stud on the team to take his place.”

“What was the name of that woman in ‘Bull Durham’?”

“Annie Savoy,” Pink-Top answered. And then they both laughed, and in tandem said, “She’s no Annie Savoy.”

Blonde Number Two was still laughing when she said, “Well, she must do something right.”

Maddy sat perfectly still, trying to collate this information so that it made some kind of sense. The solution was there. She could almost – but not quite – understand what she was hearing. Maddy knew the name Kingston from somewhere. Knew it well. But out of context, it wasn’t connecting, and it was going to drive her nuts.

Blonde Number Two’s voice rose over the noise the horde of children on the field were making. “I thought Brittany was supposed to catch today.”

“She was.” Pink-Top’s voice took on an annoyed tone. “But when Don found out Becky’s dad was going to be here, he changed the line-up.”

“Well, that kinda makes sense. He’s never gotten to see her play.”

“I know, but isn’t it enough she’s got Jim Kingston coaching her all week?”

Maddy sat back, stunned, and didn’t hear another word the two women said.

Jim Kingston – Janet’s husband – was the latest in a long succession of left-fielders for the Mariner’s. He’d come to the team from the Oakland A’s a controversial two-seasons ago. Just after the spring training accident that had ended the Mariner’s catcher’s career.

Maddy stared at Nick’s back, as he waited for Becky to take the field. Nick Patrick – her Nick – was veteran catcher Patrick McKay.

As Maddy looked at him now, it seemed so patently obvious. How had she not recognized him? The goatee from his playing days was gone now. And out of uniform, without the catcher’s mask and helmet, he looked very different. It was that whole out-of-context thing, like seeing her dentist at the supermarket, or the grocery checker at a ballgame.

Up until that moment, he’d been Nick Patrick, divorced handyman. She hadn’t expected to meet, sleep with, and fall in love with Patrick McKay – major league catcher – on Salmon Beach.

He had turned to make his way to the bleachers, when a teenaged boy approached him. The boy held something out to Nick – a ball and a pen. Maddy watched as Nick hesitated, then looked up at her. Before he could catch her, Maddy had the camera in front of her face, pointed at the field. When she looked at Nick again, his back was to her. He quickly signed the ball, surreptitiously handed it back to the young fan, and rushed up the bleacher steps.

Maddy didn’t know what to feel, or how to react to this cover-up. But it was the Nick she’d made love with coming toward her, sitting down, kissing her. He was the only Nick she knew. There would be a better time – later – to discover his reason for burying himself in the seclusion of Salmon Beach.

“You’re the sexiest thing here,” he said, draping an arm across her shoulders.

“Right back at ya,” she said. “As a matter of fact, you’re the talk of the Mommy Set.”

He smiled, taking in the field. “So are you. And the daddies are still trying to find their eyeballs. Something tells me there’s gonna be an epidemic of headaches tonight.”

“Then you’re the luckiest guy here.”

“That I am.”

Maddy sat on the couch, legs tucked underneath her, with Becky snuggled into her side. It was Maddy’s first viewing of “The Little Mermaid,” and she was engrossed. Becky, on the other hand, had given Maddy the plot details, spoken the dialogue along with the characters, and pretty much kept up a running commentary throughout the first hour.

Now, from the vantage point of his armchair, Nick watched as Becky valiantly tried to keep her eyes open. Amused, he finally got up and gently shook her leg. “You’re fighting a losing battle, Becks.”

“I wanna see the end,” she said sleepily.

“You’ve seen the end. About thirty-five times. Say goodnight to Maddy and go brush your teeth.” She protested again. “Come on. Big day tomorrow. The sooner you go to sleep the sooner we can get to Wild Waves.”

“Can Maddy come?” she asked, sitting up.

Nick and Maddy looked at each other, and he said, “If she wants to.”

The possibility of Maddy’s company got Becky up on her knees. She wrapped her arms around Maddy’s shoulders. “You wanna come, don’cha Maddy?”

Taken by surprise at the spontaneous affection, Maddy said, “Can’t think of anything I’d like better.”

“Okay, now that we’ve planned Maddy’s life for her, I think you can go to bed.” He took his daughter’s hand and helped her off the couch. “I’ll be in in a minute.”

Nick sat on the edge of the twin bed as Becky settled her stuffed polar bear under the sheet, its head on the pillow next to hers. He bent to kiss her, and whispered, “I was really proud of you today. You did a great job.”

“It was really cool when I tagged Heather out.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“How come her mom got so mad?”

Nick grinned, remembering the stink the woman made over the play. “Because she thought Heather was safe.”

“But she wasn’t, was she.”

“Nope. And when Heather called you that name, I was
really
proud of you for not saying anything back. That proves how grown up you are.”

Becky’s smile turned into a yawn, and Nick leaned over to switch off the light. She turned onto her side, then said, “Maddy’s really nice, isn’t she, Daddy?”

Nick smoothed her hair, and as he stood said, “I’m glad you think so, Becks.”

He left her door open a crack and collapsed on the couch next to Maddy, whose eyes flew open.

“Tired?” he asked.

“I’m beat.”

 “Wait till tomorrow. You’ll wish you felt as good as you do now.”

Maddy groaned and let her head fall into his lap.

“You got burned,” he said, his finger tracing the line on her shoulder left by the tanktop.

“I don’t burn.”

“Whatever you say.” He poked the red flesh, leaving a white spot.

She groaned again and ineffectively slapped at his hand.

They sat silently. Nick absently stroked her hair.

Her voice muffled by fatigue and his thighs, she asked, “How old are you?”

“Thirty-seven. Why?”

“Just wondered.” They were quiet again, then she said, “Don’t you want to know how old I am?”

“Unless you’re fifteen or – like – sixty, I don’t really care.”

“I’ll be forty in four months.”

“Have you picked out a burial plot yet?”

“I just thought you should know, that’s all.”

“Okay. Now I know.”

The movie credits were rolling. Nick reached for the remote and turned off the DVD player and television. The silence crept over them. He let his hand follow the curves of her body. He thought she’d fallen asleep, when she softly said, “I lied to you about something, Nick.” His hand came to rest on her hip and he waited. “Remember when we first met, and you asked me about that photo of the two kids? The one taken by the lake?”

“You didn’t really think I bought that ‘cousins’ story, did you?”

Maddy rolled over onto her back and looked up at him, annoyed. “Well, why wouldn’t you?”

“Come on, Maddy. The girl in the picture looked just like you.” He grinned. “Besides, you’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.”

“Well, you’d certainly know.” Her eyes locked on his. “Because you must be the best.”

“Hey, don’t get defensive on me. And quit changing the subject.”

“The subject just became ‘lying.’” She picked up the TV remote and held it to his mouth like a microphone. “Care to comment,
Mr. McKay
?”

Maddy almost wished she had her camera, because the look on his face was worth much more than a thousand words. Tickled, she continued her in-your-face reporting. “We’re talking with former Mariner’s catcher Patrick McKay. The topic: lying. Tell all the young fans in your audience where you stand on the issue.”

“I didn’t lie to you.” He grabbed the remote out of her hand and flung it at the armchair. It hit the back and bounced onto the floor, spilling its batteries.

Shocked by his reaction, Maddy sat up. Any weariness she’d felt earlier was now replaced by a heart-pounding shot of panic. On her knees, she tried to stop the white-capped waves she’d made, and took his face in her hands.

“I didn’t lie,” he repeated.

Nick sprang off the couch and strode to the center of the living room, his back to her.

“But you didn’t tell me the truth,” Maddy said.

He spun around. “It wasn’t just you, okay? Nobody knows.”

“Except Mary,” she stated. He didn’t reply, but stared at her. It didn’t occur to Maddy that what she thought was anger was actually fear. “I’m right, aren’t I? Mary knows everything. How much longer were we going to go on before you let me in on the real Nick?”

He ignored her question. “How long have you known?”

“I figured it out today. At the game.” Maddy pushed herself off the couch. Standing in front of him, she said, “Look Nick. I’m not going to tell anyone. This is obviously something you don’t want broadcast to the general public. Your secret’s safe with me. I promise.” His cool, blue eyes held hers, and Maddy could sense a retreat. “I wish I could make you believe me… Look, I’m just a little hurt you didn’t feel you could tell me.”

“Force of habit,” he finally said. “I’ve been Nick Patrick for almost two years.

“Can’t you tell me why?”

He moved back a step. There was an interminable silence. Then he said, “I will, if you tell me the truth about that picture.” Nick paused. “Because you
did
lie about that, and I want to know why.”

Maddy was about to agree, when the sound of the bathroom door closing brought them out of themselves.

Nick went into the bedroom. When a groggy Becky made her way back to the bed, he quietly asked, “Everything okay, sweetie?” She crawled under the sheet and nodded. “Did Maddy and I wake you up?” She sighed her “no,” and was asleep again within seconds. Nick bent to kiss her hair before leaving her to her dreams.

Maddy gave him a questioning look as he returned to the living room.

“We can’t do this now. I can’t risk Becky hearing anything.”

“I understand.” Her hand came up to rest lightly on his arm for just a moment, before dropping. “When?”

“Tomorrow night.”

Maddy gathered her things and they walked to the front door.

“I’ve been thinking, Nick. Maybe I shouldn’t go with you tomorrow.”

As the words left her lips, Nick suddenly – forcefully – pushed her against the door, and pinned her there. His mouth found hers. Out of nowhere, desire raged between them; a desire that came from unspoken misgivings and fear.

She was afraid of losing the tenuous progress they’d made.

His fear was even greater. He’d begun to trust her. He didn’t want to lose that. If he did, Nick was certain he’d never be able to trust himself, or anyone else, ever again.

Chapt
er Twenty-Three

The annoying stiffness in his neck had become a full-blown tension headache by the time Nick drove south on I-5 and into the retina-searing setting sun.

Bad enough it was Sunday evening and he’d had to give Becky back. The day was made worse by the fact he’d had to go all the way up to Bellevue again because Janet couldn’t make their usual meeting place. The capper had been seeing Jim Kingston’s smug face.

Nick rolled his head from side to side, trying desperately to relieve the pain. All that did was help him discover new knots of tension. He knew what the problem was: his obsessive replaying of the day in his mind. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself. The day had gone from mildly irritating to the highest level on the stress-meter, and Nick had a sudden craving for something with codeine in it. Anything to anesthetize himself.

It started with Becky doing an unreasonable amount of whining over Maddy’s decision not to come with them. She insisted on calling her, and proceeded to wheedle. Apparently, Maddy had come up with a plausible excuse and apologized enough to satisfy her.

Just as Becky had gotten off the phone – her disappointment a memory – Janet had called to let him know something had come up and he’d have to bring Becky to the house. That was when the muscles in his neck clenched, giving him a preview of the coming attractions.

The constant screaming of manic children, along with the sun glinting off the water and ninety-degree heat made the afternoon at Wild Waves a form of torture Nick figured the Allies could’ve used. He was never so happy to see four o’clock roll around in his life, even if it meant losing Becky to his ex-wife. But the closer he got to Bellevue, the more Nick realized it was preferable to what he was about to go through.

On the drive up, Becky had said, “Wait till you see my room, Daddy! I have Mariner’s sheets. And you haven’t met Misty yet. And I want to show you my science fair project…”

He’d been hearing about Misty – her classes’ pet bunny – all year, and it was Becky’s summer week to look after her. This was the biggest deal in her life at the moment. So, caught between a rock and a hard place, Nick had no choice. He’d have to actually go inside the house, because Becky would never understand his reasons if he didn’t.

Becky had taken his hand to lead him into the flagstone entry, when Janet appeared. Giving her daughter a hug, she’d said, “I want to talk to your dad for a few minutes. I’ll send him up to your room when we’re done.”

Nick reluctantly followed Janet through the sprawling house until they reached the kitchen/family room, with its huge river-stone hearth and million-dollar view of Lake Sammamish. It was as far away from Becky’s room as they could get without going outside. He couldn’t imagine what Janet had to say to him that required this much space between them and their daughter, but Nick knew it wouldn’t be pleasant. No conversation with Janet ever was these days.

“Did you have a good time this weekend, Patrick?” Janet had asked.

The use of what Nick considered his old name jarred him for a moment, he was so used to being Nick.

“Y’know, as big as this place is, I’m starting to feel claustrophobic, so get to the point, Janet.”

She’d crossed her arms tightly and said, “That is the point. I understand you brought your girlfriend to Becky’s game.”

“What of it?” Nick said.

“I won’t have Becky subjected to whatever it is the two of you do.”

Nick stared at her in disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, Patrick. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

A stunned laugh escaped him, and he said, “Oh, you must mean Saturday night. We had “The Little Mermaid” on the DVD player and all of a sudden Maddy decides to give me a blow job while Becky watches.” His voice dripped sarcasm. “Think of that, Janet. Two forms of entertainment at the same time.”

“Shut your mouth, McKay.”

Nick turned his head at the sound of Jim Kingston’s voice. “What’s the matter, Kingston? Jealous?”

Jim Kingston’s tanned face turned a deeper, unflattering shade of red. “Shut it, or I’ll do it for you.”

Ignoring him, Nick looked back at Janet. “I’ll talk to you, but nothing in our agreement says I have to put up with that sorry piece of shit.”