The Penalty Box (15 page)

“Then don't talk about yourself that way,” Katie said sharply. “And don't talk about
me
that way.” She withdrew, feeling a bit wounded. “This has nothing to do with what other people think.”

“Except Liz Flaherty.”

“I just don't want any trouble, Paul. And I don't want Tuck running into any problems, either.”

Paul scrubbed his hands over his face. “You want to be secret fuck buddies? Fine.”

“Why are you having such a hard time with this? I thought for sure you'd agree.”

“I can see your point with Tuck. But factoring Liz into the equation is insane. So she gets upset that we're together. So big deal.”

Together.
What, exactly, did being “together” mean? She was leaving at the end of the summer to go back to Fallowfield. “I'm tired,” Katie said, nuzzling against his chest. “Let's not talk about this anymore.”

“So you decide the subject is closed and that's it?”

“You're ‘so'-ing again.” She cupped his face with her hand. “You want to open the subject back up?” she said gently. “What more is there to say?”

“I happen to be crazy about you, Katie.” The fierceness in his eyes took Katie aback. “If you want to keep this on the QT for a while because of my being Tuck's coach, that's fine. But we're not hiding this forever.”

“No, of course not,” Katie said, laughing nervously. She appeared to be following along, but her mind was still back at
I'm crazy about you.
Was that the runner-up to “I love you”? He was beginning to remind her of the items on her “Forbidden Foods” list—delicious treats she had to guard against because if she succumbed and had even one, all hell would break loose and she'd backslide completely.

“I'm proud we're together,” Paul was saying. “Proud to say you're mine.”

“All right, Tarzan, I get the picture,” Katie joshed, hoping to bring the intensity of the moment down a notch. “Let's just play it by ear and see how things go. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Paul muttered with gruff reluctance. Katie snuggled deeper in his arms, determined to banish her own doubts. This was nice. This was good. They could sort out the details later.

 

 

If ever Katie
needed evidence Didsbury was a very small town, it came the next morning as she was leaving Paul's house. No sooner had she walked down the drive than a cheery female voice called out, “Mornin,' Katie!”

Katie halted, peering across the street. Mrs. Greco, the town librarian, was waving at her as she fetched her paper from the mailbox.

“Hi, Mrs. Greco,” Katie managed to call back. She could just imagine what the old woman was thinking.

“Beautiful morning, isn't it?”

“Lovely,” Katie returned, desperately stabbing her car door with her key.

Slept with Paul van Dorn?
she imagined Mrs. Greco calling.

Twice
, Katie imagined calling back.

How was it?
Mrs. Greco asked as another neighbor came out of her house and stood on the lawn, listening.

Great!
Katie replied.

“Have a nice day,” the real Mrs. Greco concluded, ducking back into her house.

“You, too,” said Katie, sliding into her car. It took every ounce of restraint not to peel out.

Driving back to her mother's house, Katie wondered how soon Mrs. Greco would tell everyone she saw Katie Fisher creeping out of Paul van Dorn's house early Saturday morning. She hadn't really been creeping, but still.

It shouldn't matter, Katie told herself.

But it did.

It wasn't just Liz Flaherty making her life hell that concerned her, or fear it could hurt Tuck. It was coupledom and all the trappings that went with it. She'd worked hard to get the hell out of Didsbury. Getting serious with Paul threatened that.

Still, they'd had a wonderful night and morning together. He was a skillful lover, strong and considerate. And he
did
have a bed: King-size and luxurious. It had been so nice to be able to spread out after sleeping in the single bed of her childhood.

She pulled into her mother's driveway and killed the engine, checking her watch. Nine a.m. Opening the front door to her mother's house, she was greeted by, “OH, THANK GOD!” and the sound of a chair scraping back in the kitchen. Two seconds later her mother appeared in the living room, wild-eyed. She'd been crying. “There you are!” Her mother threw her arms around Katie. “Thank God you're alive!”

“What?” Katie asked, mystified. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tuck's head peek around the corner then disappear.

“I was worried sick when you didn't come home last night! If you weren't here by noon I was going to call the police.”

Katie grasped her mother gently by the shoulders. “Mom, you knew I was going over to”—she lowered her voice in case little ears were listening—“Paul van Dorn's last night, remember?”

“Yes, of course I know you were at Paul's,” her mother replied impatiently. “But I figured you'd be home by midnight! And then as the hours went on and on—”

“I spent the night,” Katie blurted.

The living room throbbed with silence.

“You spent the night?” her mother said. “Couldn't you have called to let me know?”

“I didn't think you were going to wait up for me, Mom.”

“Of course I was going to wait up for you! You know I don't sleep until all my chickadees are in bed, safe and sound.”

Cradling her mother's elbow, Katie steered her toward the couch. “I'm not a chickadee,” she reminded her as they sat down. “I'm a grown woman. I don't need to account to you for my actions.”

“Who's talking about accountability?” her mother asked. “How about some simple consideration?”

Katie blushed. “I'm sorry. I just assumed you'd know where I was.”

“Oh, and why is that?” her mother snapped. “Do you make it a habit of sleeping around?”

Katie took a deep breath, taking her mother's hands between her own.

“Mom, I'm not Mina,” she said in a quiet but firm voice. “I'm not going to disappear for days on end. I'm not going to climb out of my window in the middle of the night. I'm not going to bring home a new guy covered in tattoos every two weeks. You're not going to have to sit by the phone waiting for a call from the police. Okay?”

Her mother looked away.

“I'm sorry I didn't call you,” Katie continued, “but I really thought it would be fairly obvious where I was.”

Her mother stared hard. “I don't like it. I don't
approve
of it.”

“Well, I'm sorry about that, but I'm twenty-eight years old. I'm going to do what I want, whether you like it or not.”

Her mother was silent.

“I could get my own place,” Katie offered.

Her mother's head whipped around. “No! I love having you here. And it would break Tuck's heart if you left.”

“Well, if you want me to stay,” said Katie, “you're going to have to get used to the fact that I might be spending some nights with”—her voice dropped again—“Paul.”

Her mother looked perplexed. “Why do you keep lowering your voice every time you mention Paul van Dorn?” she boomed.

Katie covered her face with her hands. God help me, she thought, by the time this day is over, my night with Paul will be the lead story on the local news.

“Because. Of. Tuck,” Katie said through gritted teeth. “Paul is his coach. I just think it would be awkward for Tuck if he knew, you know—”

“I understand,” her mother said quickly as she looked at Katie with hopeful eyes. “Is it serious?”

“Is what serious?”

“You and you-know-who,” her mother whispered.

“Define serious,” said Katie, straining to look around the corner to see if Tuck was sitting at the bottom of the stairs listening to every word being said.

“Serious,” her mother repeated dreamily, a faraway look coming into her eyes that Katie associated with zombies. “As in—”

“No.”

Her mother blinked with surprise. “You don't know what I was going to say!”

“Yes, I do, and the answer is no.”

“Yet you're sleeping with him.” Her voice was sour with disapproval.

“Yup,” said Katie, refusing to be apologetic. “That's the way things work here in the good old twenty-first century.”

“I don't like it.”

“You've made that very clear,” Katie said sweetly, patting her mother's hand. “Now, I'm going to make some coffee. Would you like some?”

 

 

Katie had no sooner reached the top of the stairs than Tuck came scurrying out of his room, his socks making him slip on the wooden floor. She could tell just by looking at his face that he'd heard at least some of what had been said.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“You're not going to move out, are you?”

Katie looked at him steadily. “Why would you think that?”

Tuck shuffled his stockinged feet.

“You were listening in on me and Nana, huh?”

“No!”

“It's okay,” she assured him. “C'mon, let's talk.”

Katie led him back to his room, which was surprisingly neat. She'd expected piles of stinky boy clothes, scattered books and CDs, an unmade bed. Instead she found his bed made and everything in its place. She wondered how much of it had to do with her mother's insistence on tidiness, or whether it was a reaction to the chaos of life with Mina. Probably both.

She perched on the end of his bed. “What did you hear?”

Tuck shrugged.

“You're not going to get in trouble, I promise you. Just tell me.”

Tuck's eyes met hers uneasily. “I heard you asking Nana if she wanted you to move out and I heard Nana being mad at you because you were at Coach van Dorn's all night.”

Shit. The kid had bat hearing.

“Anything else?”

Tuck shrugged again.

“Okay, Tuck. I need you to listen.” Katie almost burst out laughing as his eyes opened wide in a pantomime of super attentiveness. “First of all, I'm not moving out until it's time for me to go back to Fallowfield. I only said it because sometimes grownups do things that other grownups don't like, and I thought it might make Nana happier if she didn't have to worry about me.”

“Because Nana didn't like you being with Coach all night,” Tuck observed.

“Right,” Katie answered, heat rushing to her cheeks. This was harder than she thought.

“Is the coach your boyfriend?” Tuck asked hopefully.

“He's—my friend.” Was that the right answer? Apparently not, if the dubious look on Tuck's face was any indication.

“A good friend,” Katie amended lamely.

“Are you having sex with him?”

Katie's mouth slowly fell open. It took a minute for her to recover herself and try to figure out how to handle the question. She had to keep reminding herself that Tuck had been exposed to situations other children had not. Beneath his innocent demeanor was a very jaded little boy. “That's none of your business,” Katie said gently.

“Sorry,” Tuck muttered.

“No, it's okay to ask questions. It's just that some things are private, and that's one of them. Which is why it would mean a lot to me if you didn't say anything to anyone about me and your coach.”

“But it's cool,” Tuck countered with a whine.

“Yes, but it's
private
,” Katie reiterated. “The only reason you know is because Nana went a little wacko there.” Tuck laughed. “Right?”

Tuck nodded.

“So let's keep this under our hats for now. Not a word to your friends, or anyone on the team, or anyone. Okay?”

“Okay,” Tuck said reluctantly. “But.”

“But what?”

“Like, maybe you'll fall in love and get married and then you and Coach could adopt me!”

“Tuck.” Katie's voice was pained. “You have a mother, remember? And she loves you very much.”

Tuck pretended not to hear as he went to his computer.

“Tuck?” Katie wanted to wrap her arms around him tightly and assure him everything was going to be all right. But she knew her nephew would push her away when he was in this mood. He'd play deaf, just like he was doing now.

Katie sighed. “I'm going to go get some work done in my room. If you want to talk any more, just come on in, okay?”

Tuck gave no indication of hearing.

Katie walked out into the hall. It wasn't until she was sitting in front of her own computer that it dawned on her that in some ways, she was no better than Mina. For just as her sister had done so many times, she, too, had just asked Tuck to lie.

 

 

“That shit-eating grin
on
your face can mean only one thing: Either you won the lottery or you bagged your dream girl. Which is it?”

Frank DiNizio's question made Paul chuckle as he slid onto a bar stool at the Penalty Box, sipping his Sam Adams. The place was hopping, which was what he wanted on a Saturday night. He'd called Katie and asked her if she'd like to go to a movie, but she'd begged off, saying she was falling behind on working on her book. Paul wondered if it was the movie, which had already been playing there for several years—or if she just didn't want to risk being seen with him.

“C'mon, bro, spill,” Frank urged, pushing a cosmopolitan toward a blowsy, half- drunk woman before giving his full attention to Paul. “What happened?” Frank had been following Paul's pursuit of Katie with curiosity.