Disclosures - SF4 (16 page)

"I am concentrating," she smiled as she started to hit the ball with each shoulder in turn. "But I’m not using my mouth to concentrate, so I can talk."

"You are something else, Ryan O’Flaherty. I’m not sure what, but it’s definitely something else."

"Wanna see me show off a little?" The blue eyes were glittering with mirth and Jamie couldn’t imagine who would be foolish enough to say "no" to that request.

"Uh…showing off starts when?" she grinned, wondering what her partner called the impressive array of tricks she had already performed.

"Now." Ryan popped the ball in the air a few times, getting a nice height on it. Suddenly, she leaned back precariously and kicked straight up in the air with one long leg, sending the ball darting over her head like a bullet. She hit the ground lightly, rolling as she touched down so that she was back on her feet before Jamie could blink.

Wide green eyes just stared at her, her open mouth preventing any comment.

"Didn’t you do drills like this when you played?" Ryan asked in what appeared to be a serious question.

"Ahh, no," Jamie replied. "We had to kick the ball around little orange cones, but that’s all I can remember doing."

After retrieving the ball, Ryan popped it high in the air, catching it on her instep, and quickly pulled her foot up so that the ball was firmly wedged between her foot and her shin. "No wonder you never enjoyed it. Playing little tricks and games with the ball is half the fun." She abruptly tossed the ball in the air with her leg and in the same instant, kicked it to Jamie, who caught it from a purely defensive posture.

"Hey, you almost clipped me!"

"Gotta look alive when you’re on the field," she teased as she walked over to the bench to grab their things.

On the way back to the car Jamie asked, "Was soccer your favorite sport?"

"Umm, it’s hard to say. I think my favorite was always the one that was coming up next. But I did love soccer. When I was in grammar school I don’t think I ever went to school without my ball. I kicked it all the way there and all the way back every day."

"Bu..bu…but you had to climb those massive hills to get to school," Jamie stuttered as she recalled the thigh-busting streets between the O’Flaherty house and St. Phil’s.

"Don’t I know it," she said with a laugh. "But I think that’s how I developed my ball handling skills. I had to run down the hills backwards to control the ball, and that exercise really helped my footwork."

"Well, I would guess so!" Jamie’s mouth gaped slightly in amazement as she imagined her young lover running down the hills, with her books tucked under her arms while she tried to control a soccer ball. "You said the next sport was always your favorite. What other sports did you play?"

"You’ll just have to wait and see," she teased snatching the ball and tapping it along the ground in a dazzling display of footwork that once more left Jamie standing in place with her mouth dangling open.

On the way home, Jamie glanced over and asked, "Coffee?"

"Ooh, I’d love some, but I didn’t bring my wallet."

As the green eyes rolled, Jamie said, "No problem. You can just watch
me
have breakfast."

"Okay," Ryan muttered, a little embarrassed that she had been caught in one of her habits. "I’m just not used to relying on other people for money, Jamie. It’s gonna take a while for me to adjust."

"It’s an adjustment for me too, Baby," Jamie reassured her gently. "I’ve never wanted to take care of someone financially."

"Not even Jack?" Ryan was amazed at this little revelation, and she realized that they had never discussed how money was handled during their engagement.

Jamie laughed rather ruefully as she pulled into a parking space only four blocks from Sufficient Grounds. "Especially not Jack," she admitted. As they walked along the quiet streets, she added, "I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I don’t think I paid for one thing while we were together. I bought him presents, but only for his birthday and Christmas. Even then I never went overboard. I guess I wanted to make sure that he was with me for me rather than my money."

Ryan squeezed her hand, grateful that Jamie was revealing something that seemed hard for her to admit. "Why do you think you aren’t bothered when you offer me money—I assume that you aren’t bothered, that is."

"Not in the least," she said with a serious expression. "It’s actually important for me to be able to share my money with you, Honey. It means a lot to me."

"But not with Jack?" Ryan asked, once again.

Jamie shook her head, obviously trying to understand the dynamic herself. "Maybe it was because he was a guy, and I bought into the stereotype that he should provide for me. I’m really not sure, Honey. I mean, we did so little that it wasn’t hard for him to provide everything. I bought dinner if I picked up carryout, but that’s about it. Other than that, we just hung out at his apartment."

Ryan mulled over this scenario as they walked along, finding it difficult to reconcile her energetic partner with the woman who was content to sit in an apartment and watch her fiancé study. It seemed much more like a pattern that an old married couple would fit into, and she knew that it would never make sense to her.

Jamie took a big sip of her latté and broke off a piece of her chocolate chip scone for her partner. "Remember the last time we did this?" she asked with an exaggerated rolling of her eyes.

"Yeah…I seem to remember the ‘face of evil’ causing quite a scene over how familiar we were with each other."

"I am soooo glad that she’s in New York," Jamie mused. "I hope she likes it so much she never returns to California."

"It’s gonna be weird seeing her around campus," Ryan agreed, wondering if Jamie would be more open about their relationship by the time Cassie returned in the fall.

"Only at first," Jamie said confidently. "She only has power over me if I give it to her."

"True," Ryan nodded, pleased that her partner recognized the truth of that statement.

"Hey, Hon, would you mind if I didn’t go to summer school?"

"Huh? I thought you were all set? What happened?"

"I got into two classes, but they’re real duds. I hate to give up my afternoons just for the hours. We didn’t get a chance to talk about this yesterday, but I stopped by the golf coach’s office yesterday and he agreed to talk to me about trying out for the team."

"Really?" Ryan’s eyes were wide with excitement, and Jamie offered up a silent prayer of thanks for her partner’s unfailing support.

"Yeah. I’m gonna meet him at noon today and he’s gonna take a look at my game. I think I’d rather spend my afternoons practicing than sitting in class."

"I think it’s a perfect plan." Ryan smiled, taking Jamie’s hand and placing a gentle kiss on it. "I’d always rather be active than sitting in class."

"I’ve just decided that if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right. That means three or four hours of practice a day. It just seems like the best time for that is when you’re at work."

"Sounds like a deal," Ryan beamed. "I’ll put some thought into how we should change your workout to focus on golf muscles."

"Great. If you don’t mind, I’ll try to go out with you in the morning a couple of days a week. I think I have a plan for how you can still have solitude while I’m with you." Waggling pale brows showed that Jamie was pleased with her idea, and Ryan was looking forward to hearing it.

"I can’t imagine how I could ever concentrate when you’re in sight, but I’m willing to try," she promised with a trusting smile.

Later that morning Ryan continued to fuss over her partner, nearly driving the smaller woman to distraction. "Do you have a snack in your bag in case you get hungry?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Let me check your neck to make sure you have enough sun block on."

"Ryan, I'm sure I have enough," Jamie said affectionately. "I'll be fine, Sweetie."

"I just hate that I can't come to watch you," she whined for the twentieth time that morning, finally getting to the true source of her discontent. She was terribly pleased that Jamie had been given the opportunity to meet with the golf coach, but having to go to work rather than accompany her partner was about to make her scream.

"I know, Baby, but you can’t miss work, and you know it. Besides," she said as she slid her arms around Ryan's waist, "I might not be able to concentrate with you watching me."

"But I can come to your matches when you make the team, can't I?"

Jamie couldn’t resist the childlike hopefulness on her face, and she leaned in for a slow kiss. "Of course you can come.
If
I make the team," she amended gently.

"Oh, you'll make it all right."

Ryan’s confidence was contagious, and Jamie allowed herself a moment to agree with her optimistic prediction. "Now you know that this is not a real tryout," she cautioned. "The coach just wants to see me play a round. If he thinks I'm good enough, I can try to play my way onto the team in August."

"I know." Ryan’s patient tone belied her excitement and enthusiasm. "But I also know that you'll make the team. You're really good, Honey, and I know that you'll work hard this summer to be even better."

"I’m gonna have to play a lot, Ryan. A whole lot. Are you sure you won’t mind playing on the weekends?"

"Honey," she drawled, lacing her hands behind Jamie’s neck, "I’d play tiddly-winks all weekend if you were going to be playing with me."

Jamie’s mouth opened for a rejoinder, but instead she smirked slightly while shaking her head. "Too easy. That was just too easy."

After her workday was finished Ryan walked home, mulling over the possibility of playing soccer again.
Damn, I’d love to play again…but it just toasts me that I can’t get a full ride. I know Jamie will never be able to understand this, but that scholarship means more to me than I can express. It’s not just the tuition. Even though the money is important, the most important thing is that giving me the scholarship is an acknowledgment that they gave up on me too soon in high school. Of all of the coaches from Cal who recruited me, Coach Greene knew me the best. She had to know that I could shoulder the work here. It just would not have been that big of a risk for her to take. Hard to believe that one bad semester in high school made her ignore everything I'd done up until then.

She had been walking a long while before she realized that she had gone quite a bit out of her way. Providentially, she found herself near the large farmer’s market, and she stopped to load up on organic fruit and vegetables. Nearly every stone fruit found its way into her backpack—peaches, plums, apricots and nectarines. Stopping by an herb stand she chose fresh basil, oregano and thyme, then decided that she might as well make tomato sauce for dinner since she already had most of the ingredients. The heirloom tomatoes were too beautiful to resist, and she added six of them, after grabbing a couple of pounds of romas. Quickly adding some red, yellow and orange peppers, she headed towards home before her empty stomach demanded anything else.
I think I'm going to have to have Conor bring my bike tomorrow
, she grumbled as she struggled with her purchases during the rest of the long walk home.

When Jamie pulled into the drive at 4:30, Ryan was sitting on the front porch, clutching a beer and looking anxious. The impatient golf widow bounded off the porch and opened the car door before Jamie could even get the key out of the ignition. "How did it go?" Ryan asked excitedly.

Jamie smiled up at her as she got out of her car. "It went well," she said rather neutrally.

"Tell me!" Ryan demanded.

Jamie laughed gently at her partner’s impatience, grateful to have such an enthusiastic reception. "Okay, okay. Let me get out of the car." While she slid out of the car Ryan ran around and grabbed her golf bag, running back to slide her arm snugly against Jamie’s waist.

"You’re out of the car," the taller woman whispered, nudging Jamie’s hip with her own.

"Okay, I give! Let’s sit down right here and I'll start at the top."

They sat side by side on the stone steps of the porch, with Jamie taking a long pull from Ryan’s beer. Ryan's eyes were wide open and she leaned forward a little in anticipation.

Jamie laughed at her posture. "I've got to tell you, Honey, it really makes me feel special to have you be so interested in this."

"Shouldn't you reward that interest by telling me what happened?" she pleaded.

"Yes, I should," she agreed firmly. "The coach met me at the course and we spent a couple of minutes talking. He seems like a nice guy. He's about 30 or so, married, with a baby girl. He was very laid back, asked me to call him Scott."

"What questions did he ask?"

"He wanted to know how long I'd been playing, where I usually played, if I'd been in much competition. You know, the usual background stuff."

"Then what?"

"We went out to the driving range and he had me work through my bag. I must have hit 150 balls. I was kinda tired when I was done. But he seemed pretty impressed. I was really glad that I had spent some time working with Chip because he asked me to fade and draw the ball about 2 dozen times. It seemed to surprise him that I could do both pretty well."

"That's ‘cause you're really good!" her number one fan said happily as she bounced around excitedly on the edge of the porch.

Jamie smiled again and continued, "Then we played 9 holes. He had his clubs, but he only played one or two holes. Luckily, I hit some really nice drives today. I was afraid I'd be too tired to boom them after all that time at the range, but I was really smokin' 'em," she said with a hint of pride.

Ryan lifted her open hand and slapped Jamie's loudly. "You're a stud, Honey."

"You're the first person I've ever dated who's called me a stud," she said with a laugh.

"Well, you are a stud," she insisted.

"When we were finished, he said that he was really impressed with my game. Then he said he hoped I would come out in August and try to make the team."

"What were his exact words?" Ryan asked with a big smile.

"Hmmm, I think he said, 'I'm really impressed with your game, Jamie. I hope you come out in August and try to make the team.'" She stuck her tongue out and Ryan tried unsuccessfully to grab it.

"Then what?" she asked brightly.

"I asked how many spots he had on the team. He said he could carry twelve, there are already nine scholarship players, so he has three spots to fill. Last year about twelve women tried out for two spots, so I guess the competition is pretty tough. I'm really going to have to work to be ready." Jamie’s voice and face became more serious as she considered her chances.

"I'll help you in any way that I can, Honey. I gave some thought to your program, and I think we should do a lot more work on your shoulders and back, and we should keep working your legs. If we can get you in top shape, that will really give you an edge."

Jamie got to her feet and extended a hand to her partner. "You give me an edge, Buffy. Just knowing you’re there to support me is all I could ever ask for."

When they entered the house, Jamie turned and gazed at her partner with a puzzled grin. "Did Martha Stewart come by here this afternoon?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Ryan batted her eyes ingenuously, trying to play dumb, but failing.

Jamie looked at the neat piles of laundry folded on the dining room table, caught the tangy scent of tomato sauce bubbling away in the kitchen, and marveled at the simple, elegant arrangement of gladioli on the coffee table. "I had no idea you were this domestic," she mused, just the hint of teasing in her voice.

"It’s just laundry, tomato sauce and a bunch of flowers, Honey." Ryan’s head was cocked just a bit, trying to figure out why Jamie was so surprised. "I’ve been cooking and doing laundry since I was seven."

For reasons that she could not understand, Jamie was a little taken aback by this fact. She sat down rather heavily on the sofa and made an admission that embarrassed her greatly. "I’ve never done laundry in my life," she said softly.

"Sure you have, Babe," Ryan laughed gently. "You washed our bike clothes out when we got back from the ride. Remember?"

"Oh, I’ve washed things out in the sink when I’ve traveled, but I’ve never sorted a bunch of clothes and figured out how to use a washer and dryer." She was blushing furiously, and Ryan knew there was something going on in her head, but she could not, for the life of her, figure out what it was.

"And that bothers you…why?" Ryan assumed that Jamie never had to perform the mundane tasks of daily life, and it was very puzzling that her partner looked so upset about this.

Jamie sat back and looked at Ryan for a few moments, finally lifting her hand to gently tuck some stray hairs behind her ear. Her touch was very tender, and she gazed deeply into Ryan’s eyes the whole time. "It’s never really it hit me how it must have been for you," she whispered. Her eyes filled with tears, and a few drops slid down her cheeks, where they were caught by Ryan’s fingertips. "I’ve never really considered how many adult tasks you had to take on—but it makes perfect sense. I just suddenly feel like a big overgrown child—and you were a little adult when you were only seven years old."

Ryan wrapped her arms around her partner and tenderly kissed her head, finally coming to her forehead, where she swept the fine blonde hair away with her lips. "It wasn’t that bad, Baby," she soothed. "We had lots of help—my aunts and my older cousins were over every day when I was little. I wanted to help out, Babe. I wanted to do my own laundry and help with meals. It made me feel like I was a part of the family. You know?"

Jamie nodded her head slowly…that was the difference. Working together made the O’Flahertys grow closer; having servants cater to their every whim made each Evans family member function as a separate, autonomous entity. It took a second, but she realized that she was not crying for Ryan and the hardships she had experienced; she was crying for herself, and for the tremendous emotional distance that existed between her and her parents. "I’m sorry for going off like that, Babe," she finally murmured, not ready to share her thoughts at the moment. "I feel kinda shaky this afternoon."

Ryan brought her hand up to feel Jamie’s forehead. "You haven’t looked quite right since you got home. Tell me what’s wrong, Babe."

"Nothing big." Jamie got up and ran her hands through her hair, shaking her head a bit to clear it. "I got my period today, and I’m a little crampy and a little emotional."

Slipping an arm around her shoulders, Ryan pulled her partner close and gently rubbed her back. "My poor baby," she soothed. "Let me take care of you tonight, okay?"

Uncharacteristically, Jamie shrugged off the offer and pulled out of the embrace. "It’s no big deal, Honey." She got to her feet and offered a smile to her puzzled partner. "I started to feel twinges when we were on the golf course, and I didn’t have any pain pills with me. I’m sure I’ll be fine after I take some ibuprofen."

Ryan remained seated on the couch, casting a thoughtful glance at Jamie’s departing form, while the smaller woman went up to her bedroom.
That was odd. Either something else is bothering her, or she just doesn’t like to be touched when she’s feeling under the weather
. She shook her head and got to her feet,
Guess I’ll find out eventually
.

A few minutes later Jamie came into the kitchen wearing one of Ryan’s oversized tank tops and a pair of her roomy cotton boxer shorts. The bright blue shirt was so huge that it nearly covered the pink striped shorts, and Ryan toyed with her by ostentatiously peeking into the armholes to observe her bare body.

"Nice look for you, Sparky," she said conversationally.

"I like big clothes when I don’t feel well. You don’t mind, do you?"

"Nope. You can start wearing my jeans if you want," she gently teased.
The fact that you want to wear my clothes lets me know you’re not mad at me
, she silently surmised.
That takes one possibility off the list.
"Did everything go okay today, Babe?"

Jamie was leaning against the counter, legs crossed at the ankles, looking more like a five-year-old than her true age. She nodded, sparing a small smile. "Everything’s fine, Ryan. Really." Her tone was friendly, but it was clear that she didn’t want to converse any more about her mood, so Ryan tried a different tactic.

"Why don’t I bring in one of the chaise lounges, and you can sit down and have a glass of lemonade while I finish dinner?"

Pushing away from the counter, Jamie walked over to the stove and stirred the delicious-looking sauce. "This looks absolutely great, Hon. Thanks for working so hard."

"No problem," Ryan assured her. "Umm…do you want me to bring in that chaise?"