ARE YOU LONESOME TONIGHT? (Running Wild) (11 page)

He wasn’t going to tell her about the article.

"I got cheeseburgers, I hope you like cheese?”

“Sure.” She picked up a fry, dunked it in ketchup, and munched it. “So what do you want to talk about, Harold? The fact that you fed me a line of hogwash?”

"Harry. My name’s Harry Watson.”

“I thought it was Walters.” She narrowed her green eyes at him, and after a minute she nodded, as if she were adding this to the long, invisible list of his other lies. But then all of a sudden she shook her head and grinned. She held out her hand. Her eyes twinkled.

"Maxine Bleckner, how do you do, Harry Watson?”

He took her slender hand in his, and the connection was electric. He knew she felt it as well, because her eyes widened.

She pretended nothing was happening. She snatched her hand away and said in that incredible voice that gave him goose bumps, “I guess neither of us was very honest, were we, Harry? My excuse is my job. I can’t afford to be honest. Who’d phone again if they knew what my life is really like? So what’s your reason?”

The same. Oh, Maxine, my excuse is my job, same as yours
. But he had enough sense not to say that. And he knew it was going to be alright. She wasn’t mad. She wasn’t the kind of woman who held a grudge. There was a faint chance she might even let him take her out again, if he handled this carefully.

And, man, he wanted to do that. He wanted it badly.

"I wanted to impress you," he told her. “I didn’t want you to know I was a hopeless slob who didn't shower or shave before taking his bare-assed daughter to Motoring Munchkins."

She laughed, as he'd hoped she might, and he could see her relaxing.

The relief he felt was enormous, and it made him hungry. "Maxine, I’m starving. Mind if I eat before we get into the rest of the gritty details of my life?"

“Okay. I’m hungry too. I missed breakfast.”

“Me too. I worked late on an assignment last night and turned off the alarm this morning. Lucky thing Sadie woke me up.” He took a huge bite of his burger and a gulp of coffee. Then he looked at her and pitched his voice low and intimate.

“I’m very glad Sadie woke me up.”

Her throat grew pink, and the blush crept up to her ears. He liked that she blushed. He liked that she ate her food with honest relish. In the distant past he’d dated women who watched their weight with fanatical intensity, and he remembered it wasn't enjoyable to eat with them.

When the burger and fries were gone, he thought about what he should say, how best to explain his duplicity—without spilling the beans about the article.

"I wanted to tell you the truth that night at the restaurant, but I’d dug myself in too deep with that businessman fantasy,” he began. It was close to the truth. "I'd created this savvy, sophisticated monster, this guy I could never live up to, and when I saw you, I was too blown away to do the right thing and just confess.”

"Why did you phone me in the first place, Harry?”

Here it was, the crossroads where he either told the truth or lied through his teeth.

He lied. “I was working and I had this feeling that everybody else was out having a hell of a good time somewhere. The paper was on my desk, and my eyes lit on your ad.”

She nodded. She believed him. He despised himself for lying, but he needed to see her again.

He leaned toward her, and this time he told her the absolute truth: “I thought you were about the sexiest, most beautiful, woman I’d ever laid eyes on, Maxine. I was so proud to have you with me that night.”

Her neck and cheeks got pink again, and she looked down at her tray, but she didn’t say anything.

"Then that magpie of a Joost came over,” Harry went on, “and I knew that in a minute he’d ruin everything by telling you all about me. You’d find out I was just an ordinary Joe and I’d lied to you about everything. And I knew that he was gonna mention Sadie, because he came to the house when I was doing an ad campaign and he fell hard for her.”

“I thought Sadie was your wife.”

“Yeah. It was a logical mistake.”

“I’m not surprised he liked Sadie,” Maxine said, glancing over at the play area. "She’s a great kid. Look how she’s taking care of Graham.”

Sadie was tossing balls in the air and making the baby laugh.

“Do you enjoy being a parent, Harry?”

“When I was twenty, if anyone had suggested I’d spend my thirties raising a kid, I’d have laughed my head off,” Harry said. “But I’ve never enjoyed anything as much as I’m enjoying raising her. She teaches me so much.” He gave Maxine a wry look. “Like checking before we leave the house to make sure she’s wearing underwear. That was my lesson for today, and I screwed up big-time.”

They both laughed, and he added, “There’s nothing like a kid to force you to really take a look at the things that embarrass you, or that push your buttons. It’s a very humbling experience, being a parent, don’t you think?”

Maxine nodded. “Before I had Graham, I’d have slit my wrists rather than be seen in public with baby puke on my shirt, wearing my oldest track pants."

“You look beautiful,” he said, and meant it.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "If you’re serious, you obviously need to get out more. Either that or have an eye exam.”

He’d been trying to figure out how to ask her for a date she might be inclined to accept, and here was an opening. “How about coming out with me, then? Let’s take the kids to the park tomorrow morning. I’ll bring snacks.”

She shook her head. “I have to work. I really can’t afford to take time off like this.”

He’d been afraid she’d say that. He thought it over and came up with an idea. “You have a cell phone.” He’d seen her using it outside the community center. “Just forward your business calls, and if you have to work, I’ll watch the kids and you can go somewhere and talk with a free mind.”

He was a lot less than thrilled at the idea of her doing phone sex while they were out together, but he wasn’t about to admit that.

What right did he have to feel jealous of the men she dealt with?

He could see she was thinking over his suggestions and he tensed, waiting for her answer.

She sipped her coffee and, to his relief, at last she shrugged and agreed. "All right, but only for an hour.”

“Gotcha. One hour. Fantastic.”

It was. If he played it right, it was a new beginning. 

“So you started up with him again? I can't believe this. Can you believe this, Edna?"

Polly had been out of the hospital ten days, and out of the wheelchair two. She’d bitched nonstop since the accident. She hated feeling weak, she loathed the cast on her leg, she was frustrated by how sore her armpits were after just two lousy days on the lousy crutches, and she was mad at the cable company. The connection she'd had installed for her laptop wasn’t working the way she thought it should.

“Staying here with you is the one thing about the whole fiasco that’s okay,” Polly had admitted grudgingly.

Polly had grown up with four brothers, and being with Maxine and Edna was like having the sisters she’d always longed for, she confided. And having Graham around twenty-four hours a day was aces.

“Maybe now you can really get to know Harry,” Edna told Maxine. They were sitting around the kitchen table, drinking tea and watching Maxine feed Graham.

Polly snorted. “Maybe now I should get one of the PIs from the office to run a security check on this dude. He’s probably a polygamist looking for yet another wife.”

Maxine spooned another mouthful of mashed peas into Graham’s mouth. "I’m meeting him for an hour at the park tomorrow, not marrying him, Pol.” She grinned at her prickly friend. “Did the good doctor call again today, by any chance?”

“Don’t bring him up when we’re eating, it makes me nauseous.” Polly’s face took on a mutinous expression.

Bruce Turner called Polly several times a day on her cell phone, which showed a great deal of perseverance on his part. Polly spent untold hours on the phone talking to her secretary, her colleagues, and her clients, so getting through to her took effort.

Maxine and Edna had quickly deduced that the calls weren’t for medical reasons. They also noticed that although Polly was exceptionally rude to the doctor, she didn’t hang up on him. 

"Don’t throw out the baby with the bathwater. He could be the one doctor you’ll really like,” Edna advised her, munching on one of the raisin-oatmeal cookies she’d brought over.

“He seems nice, he’s funny, he’s got a good paying job, and he’s a hunk." She’d met Bruce Turner while visiting Polly at the hospital. "I wish someone like that would take a shine to me,” she said wistfully. "He spent a lot of time in your room, I thought."

“He’s a doctor," Polly said, as if that explained everything. “My father was a doctor; I know what that's like. They're never home, their family doesn’t get any of their attention because they give it all to patients, and when their wife gets past her prime, they trade her in for a bimbo nurse not much older than their oldest kid."

“You never told us that before,” Maxine said. Graham shut his eyes and mouth and shook his head. Maxine took it as a signal that he was finished with the peas and picked up the small jar of applesauce.

“I don’t think about it much.” Polly tried for nonchalance, but Maxine heard the resentment in her tone.

Polly reached for another cookie. “Anyway, I barely knew the man. I was only five when he jumped ship.”

"How old were your brothers?" Edna poured them all more tea. 

"Darcy was seven, Rob nine, Matt twelve, and Kevin fourteen.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Y’know, I used to think that he left us because I was a girl. I thought if I’d been born a boy he might have stayed.”

“Do you ever see him?” Maxine thought of her own father and how long it had been since she’d even spoken to him.

"Nope.” Polly dipped her cookie in her tea and quickly transferred it to her mouth. "He moved to Hawaii after he remarried, and he stopped paying support for us. Mom was a secretary for an insurance firm, but it was rough going financially for a while. We had the heat and lights turned off a couple of times. Kevin quit school when he turned sixteen and got a job in construction, that helped a lot.” She realized that Maxine and Edna were listening with their mouths open. “No big deal. We survived. I have clients who’ve had it worse.”

"Where’s your mother now?” Graham had had enough of the applesauce. His eyes were closing; it was time for a nap.

“In a care home in Winnipeg,” Polly said. “She has Alzheimer’s, has had for five years now. She doesn’t recognize any of us. I go back and visit her as often as I can. All of my brothers still live around Winnipeg, and they keep an eye on her. There’s not really much any of us can do.”

As Maxine changed her son’s diapers and settled him in his crib, she thought over what Polly had revealed. It explained so much about her friend, Maxine thought as she smoothed the comforter over her son. What happened in childhood affected a person’s entire life. Her own childhood, spent fruitlessly trying to gain her father’s approval, had resulted in her falling in love with the first man who showed her some affection, and that was a stupid move if ever there was one.

But what she’d gained from the fiasco was worth every moment of heartache Ricky had caused. Graham was a gift, and she was thankful for him every single day.

She bent over and kissed his small, sweaty head. She wanted him to have the best, most normal childhood she could provide. It was sad that his natural father was not around, but she’d see to it that he had everything else a child needed.

She thought of Harold.  Harry, she corrected. He seemed to be a man who took his responsibilities seriously, if the way he was with his daughter was any indication.

She liked his humor. She liked his shoulders. She liked his mouth. She liked the shivery way he made her feel when he looked at her as if he wanted to kiss her.

For God’s sake, forget sex, Maxine
. She needed to know a lot more about him before she could trust him. All the same, she was looking forward to seeing him in the morning.

It was going to be tough getting Maxine to trust him.

Harry watched her walk toward him across the grass.

She was wearing shorts this morning, and his memory of her legs was dead on; they were long, slender, deliciously curvy below the hem of her modest blue cutoffs. He had a sudden mental image of those bare legs locked around his waist, and he silently and urgently willed his body to behave. This was going to be enough of a challenge without a permanent hard-on to contend with; he didn’t want her thinking he was like the men she dealt with on the phone.

He didn’t want to think about her dealing with those men on the phone.

“She brunged her baby, Daddy." Sadie sounded ecstatic and relieved. She’d fallen head over heels in love with Graham. She’d talked of nothing else yesterday after they’d come home from McDonald’s
.  How come he can’t talk? How come he wears diapers? How come he’s a boy? When will he learn to walk? How come we don’t have a baby for me to play with? Where could we buy one?

By the time he’d gotten her to bed last night, Harry was worn out. with explanations. But when he made it to bed himself, he hadn’t been able to sleep for thinking of Maxine.

"Morning.” She gave him a wide smile that gladdened his heart as she reached the picnic bench where Harry had unloaded the thermos of coffee, the fresh pastries, the juice boxes, and the overflowing cardboard carton of toys that Sadie had insisted they bring for the baby.

“Isn’t it a fine day?” She squatted down and set Graham on the grass, and Harry stole a look at her ass.

It was every bit as intriguing as her legs.

Graham squealed with excitement and started to crawl away, and Sadie immediately chased after him.

“The weather’s just like I ordered, for once,” Harry said. "Want some coffee?” Pretending a nonchalance he was far from feeling, he poured two cups, added cream to hers, and handed it over.

"You remembered how I like my coffee.” She shot him a shy, appreciative glance.

"Yup.” He felt good about it and couldn’t resist adding, "I remember everything about you."

“How do you know I wasn’t just making up everything I said to you?”
Like you were
. The words were unspoken, but they were there.

“I'll tell you what I remember, and you can correct me if I’m wrong.”

“Okay, go." There was more than a little challenge in her tone.

“You were a shy little girl.” 

“Did I tell you that? I don’t think I told you that.”

He shook his head. "Not in so many words, but you said that you were quiet in school, and you liked to read poetry, and play make-believe games by yourself in the woods.”

She nodded. “I did. What else?”

"You like rainy days, and you love to dance, and your favorite meal is breakfast. You like pasta with seafood sauce, and the color purple, and if you had all the money in the world, you’d use it first on food for hungry children and then on education, so they’d have a way out of poverty. And then you’d go to California and live like a movie star until the money ran out.”

There was surprise on her lovely face. “You have a good memory, Harold. Harry,” she corrected.

He thought of the detailed notes he’d scribbled while she talked to him, and guilt gnawed at his gut. He shoved it away; it was too nice a day for guilt. He’d deal with guilt later, on his own time.

"Oh, yeah, one more thing,” he added. "You wanted to get into broadcasting.”

She was quiet for a moment, and then she seemed to decide it was all right to confide in him after all. "I’ve enrolled in a broadcasting course at night school,” she admitted. "I start next week.” Her eyes glowed with excitement.

"Maxine, that’s fantastic.” He held up his cup in a toast. “Congratulations. With your voice, you’ll be tremendous. You’ll be a big star. I can see it all now: first local radio, then television news. . ..” He paused dramatically. "And then your own talk show."

“In your dreams.” She wrinkled her nose and laughed. “But then I could interview you, couldn’t I? You’ll be a Pulitzer prize-winning novelist by then.” She grew serious and looked straight into his eyes. "You were telling me the truth when you said you were writing a book, weren’t you, Harry? You said it was a mystery."

"Yeah." It wasn’t something he talked about easily; it was too close to his heart. “I hadn't worked on it much for a long time, but that night, after I told you about it, I got out my notes and started again. I've got six chapters done. I never would have started if we hadn’t had that conversation.”

She beamed at him. "Hey, I’m glad.”

“Me too.” He wondered if she had any idea how attractive she was when she got excited.

“What's it about, your book?" She cradled her hands around her cup and leaned toward him eagerly.

He didn’t glance at her breasts, but it was a real test of his self-control.

“It’s a cross between fiction and fact. Faction, I guess you’d call it. See, I interviewed Joe Murphy, the owner of Park Place, a week before he was murdered.” Park Place was a well-known Vancouver nightclub. "We had a long, boozy lunch, and he told me some stuff that I thought was just his imagination. But then he was gunned down a couple days later, and I realized maybe he'd been telling the truth. So I did a lot of research, and I’ve turned it into a mystery, part fiction, part fact."

"You're not afraid of whoever did it coming after you?" Her tip-tilted eyes were wide.

Harry shook his head. "I doubt it. The cops have already arrested the guys they think did it, but there’s more to it than they know. Also, a lot of what I’m writing is the background stuff, how Joe went from a nice Italian kid to a rich mobster.” He grimaced. “Sounds better when I write it than when I try to explain it.”

“It sounds great. I’ll look forward to reading it—”

“Daddy, come quick; that baby’s eating grass.” Sadie was horrified. She watched closely as Maxine extracted the gummy green wad from Graham’s mouth.

“Thank you for watching him for me,” Maxine told her, crouching down and smiling at the little girl. “You’re a very good babysitter, Sadie.”

Sadie nodded. “I really likes him, even if he does eat grass. I wish we had a baby, but my daddy says you gotta have a mommy to get babies.” She handed Graham a red plastic ball. “My mommy died, see, so we can’t get a baby.” She punctuated her words with expressive gestures of her hands.

“I see. That’s too bad.”

"Daddy says that’s life,” Sadie said with a Gallic shrug that made Maxine smile.

"Well, that’s a good way to look at it.”

She was still smiling as she got to her feet and walked back to the table.

Harry had been listening. He told Maxine about the dozens of questions he’d answered the night before about babies in general and Graham in particular.

“I worry about her growing up with just me to pattern herself on,” he admitted. “It doesn’t seem the ideal way for a little girl to learn how to be a woman.”

“She’ll be okay," Maxine assured him. There was silence for a few moments as they watched the two children play with the ball.

"How old was she when your wife died?” The question was tentative.

"Six months.” He dropped his voice so there was no possibility of Sadie overhearing. He wanted Maxine to know the facts about his marriage. “Cheryl was out with the guy she was living with. She hadn’t seen Sadie since the day I took her home from the hospital. We were divorcing."