Asking For It (15 page)

The place was a mess. Tomatoes in varying states of decay littered the once-neat rows. Tomato hoops had been uprooted and flung every which-where.

In the midst of this wild disarray sat a lone figure perched on an upturned bucket. Clearly, Griffith had received the lion's share of the tossed tomatoes. The original color of Arnie's shirt was nearly invisible beneath the spattering of red. The tomato she'd seen on the kids' clothes at dinner must have been mere accidental friendly fire.

Warily, Kate climbed the wooden fence and dropped into the field. Griffith didn't move, didn't even flinch to show he'd heard her.

Maybe he
had
suffered a nervous breakdown.

Frowning, Kate slowly approached. He must have heard her footfalls by now, but Griffith didn't move. He just sat on his bucket, one knee crossed over the other. As Kate walked around toward his front she saw that he had an elbow perched on top of his knees and his chin resting in that hand.

It was an oddly contemplative pose. She had a feeling he'd been sitting here, in just this pose, since his kids had left the field to go in to dinner — nearly two hours ago.

It was an eerie thought.

Just as eerie — no, shocking — was the expression on Griffith's face. Despite a mass of tomato pulp on the left side of his forehead, and another blotch on his right cheek, he was a picture of dignity.

Kate felt her heart do a funny flip-flop in her chest.

He turned his head, a miniscule amount, to regard her.

"Griffith." Kate cleared her throat. "Are you all right?"

He didn't answer.

"Are you — Well, are you coming back to camp?" Kate hated the note of concern in her voice.

His eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch.

"It's — well, it's evening activity time," Kate went on, feeling more and more strange in the face of his silence. "In an hour it'll be lights out."

His gray eyes simply gazed at her.

"Um, you might want to..." Kate's voice trailed off. Surely she didn't need to suggest he might want to clean himself up.

A long moment of silence stretched between them. Then, slowly, deliberately, he raised his chin off his hand. Kate watched as he used that hand to wipe the tomato pulp off his forehead. This he disposed of with a brisk shake.

"There's one thing you should know." His voice was like his expression: deep, sober, surprisingly forceful.

Kate did her best not to appear shaken. She sank her weight onto one hip. "And what is that?"

Griffith stood up from his bucket. Kate had to restrain the impulse to step back. Since when had he gotten so tall?

"It matters," Griffith said. He lowered his lashes as he looked down at her. "Some things do matter."

Her lips parted. Despite his quiet tone, the words held power. They seemed to echo around her. "How — ? Ahem. What do you mean?" She took a step back, after all.

"The kids, the field. Everything."

"Uh... What?"

"Tomorrow," Griffith announced, "things are going to be different." He stepped toward her. His smile was a tiny curve at the corner of his lips. "You'll see."

She would? Exactly how did a man like Griffith, a man with the determination and strength she now saw, intend to react to what had happened in the tomato field that day? Visions of tomato-spattered children zipped across Kate's mind. "Uh..." She took another step back.

He responded with another step toward her.

Kate licked lips that had suddenly gone dry. He was all strength and solemnity and — and a weird kind of integrity.
What did he intend to do
?

"Don't worry," Griffith murmured. His lashes lowered. "It's going to be all different." Saying which, he lifted her chin with the edge of his hand. Before Kate could react, before she could begin to imagine what he was about to do, he brushed his lips across hers.

She reacted then. Stars burst inside of her. A glittering cascade of sensation. From a tiny little brush of the lips. Her eyes shot up to his.

But he didn't let her get a good look at him, didn't let her ferret out his motive. With a swift movement, he turned and strode off, in the direction from which Kate had just come.

Kate was left to stare at his tomato-splashed back, dumbfounded.

Before her eyes Griffith had transformed from a reckless clown into a man of real power, inner strength, and utter resolve.

He'd kissed her. On the lips.

And she wasn't supposed to
worry
?

CHAPTER TEN

"You sleep all right?" Arnie tilted his head at Kate the next morning as they filed with the children into the dining hall for breakfast.

"Who? Me?" Kate pressed an innocent hand to her chest. "Sure. I slept just fine." She'd lain awake most of the night, wondering what Griffith was going to do today, feeling the brush of his kiss.
Worrying
.

"Uh
huh
." Arnie took Kate's arm before she could peel off toward her campers' table. "So what happened with Griffith yesterday?"

"What happened?" Kate heard her voice come out too high. "With Griffith? Oh! You mean the, uh — No, that whole tomato field thing turned out to be no big deal." Right. No big deal. Griffith had only looked...honorable. Unless she'd dreamed the whole thing. That was possible, wasn't it? It had all been a dream?

"Uh huh," Arnie said again.

"
Nothing
happened." Kate spoke from between her teeth.

Arnie sucked in his lips. "Okay. It's private. I get it."

"No, it's not — Oh, come on!"

But Arnie only looked at her like he was more convinced than ever that something private had occurred between her and Griffith the night before. With a thoughtful nod, he sauntered away.

Kate ground her teeth. It was as if Arnie had
seen
that kiss. No, worse. It was as if he understood it better than she did.

Then, over the chaos in the dining hall of several dozen campers jockeying for seats there rose the sound of boys chanting to a military beat.

"Hup, two, three, four. Hup, two, three, four."

Through the double doors marched a single-file line of nine-year-old boys. Their faces were serious, concentrating on keeping step. Elroy, the smallest, strode at the head of the line. He led the way to their table and proceeded down to the end of the bench. The other boys followed. In short order, there was a line of boys standing at attention behind the benches of the table.

Everybody in the room turned to watch. The nine-year-olds stood at attention, apparently waiting for Griffith, who entered the room with a brisk, commanding gait. Kate wanted to blink and shake her head to make sure she was seeing correctly. He'd shaved off his scruffy beard, his hair was immaculately groomed, and if she weren't mistaken he'd
ironed
his oversized T-shirt. For certain there was a crease pressed into his rolled-up jeans.

As he came to the head of the table and surveyed his troops, with his hands clasped behind his back, he bore little resemblance to the slovenly, cynical man who'd sat at the same table the previous day.

All eight campers' eyes trained eagerly upon him.

"At ease, men," he told them. "You may be seated."

There was a flurry of movement as eight boys stepped over the bench seat and sat down to breakfast.

Kate realized her jaw was hanging open. Was
this
what Griffith had meant about things being different? He'd been
serious
? A funny sensation shivered over her.

Swiftly, she turned and headed toward her own table. Inwardly rocking, she took a deep breath and turned to one of her fourteen-year-olds. "Jimmy? Would you please stand at the podium and lead us in grace?" She was absolutely astounded, flabbergasted — bewildered. But instinct screamed she shouldn't let Griffith see as much.

As Jimmy walked to the podium, Orlando slouched in through the double doors. His hands were in the pockets of his long basketball shorts and his expression was derisive. But he caught Kate's eye and stood obediently as the campers all chanted grace.

Once grace was over, everybody dug in, reaching for bowls and boxes of cereal. Kate sneaked a glance toward Griffith's table.

Matters were proceeding at a decidedly different pace there. Griffith was directing manners with a demeanor somewhere between a drill sergeant and a blue-blooded matriarch. "Please pass the's" were clearly being said, as well as "thank you's." In between, nine-year-old eyes were directed Griffith's way, seeking guidance, waiting for approval.

Kate felt the strange sensation shiver over her again. He was teaching them. Giving them a positive example. And the kids were learning. In the process they were gaining the self-esteem that was the whole reason they were here in the first place.

Kate had hoped Griffith would tire of the defiant routine. She'd fully expected him to run to the end of his patience with ill-behaved children. But all she'd ever hoped for was a modicum of effort.

But this — This was something else. From another galaxy.

With a mere lift of the hand, Griffith stopped one of the kids from standing up to reach for the milk. The boy tamely sat and must have asked for the milk, for another one of the boys passed it to him.

Orlando slouched with his chin in his hand at the end of the table.

Watching this, Kate stirred her spoon around in her oatmeal, her stomach too uneasy to allow her to eat anything.

What, she wondered, was Griffith up to now?

~~~

"Rather than one's sleeve, Elroy" Griffith said, "one uses a napkin." Griffith scooped a spoonful of cornflakes into his mouth and watched in satisfaction as Elroy meekly removed his sleeve from his milk-moustached mouth and picked up a napkin. The boy tapped it against his lips.

Griffith supposed he ought to turn around in his seat. He ought to shoot Kate a triumphant look. He could feel her eyes on his back, like prickly thorns. But he didn't turn around.

Other than that small cowardice, he was feeling pretty good. Simply shaving had improved his outlook immensely. Wearing clothes that weren't wrinkled didn't hurt. And he wouldn't deny that it felt awfully good to have eight eager little faces constantly turning his way, looking for approval.

The past few days had been an utter loss. Griffith hardly knew how he'd fallen into such a funk; he only knew that yesterday afternoon he'd hit rock bottom. It had been as if he'd forgotten all about the self-respect it had taken him so many years to acquire. It had been as if he were still twelve years old and getting beaten up by Pierce Cruller.

A bunch of tossed tomatoes had knocked his memory back into him. Pierce Cruller hadn't laid a fist on him in more than twenty years. Griffith had long ago learned how to influence and motivate people, people far more difficult to influence and motivate than eight eager-to-please nine-year-olds.

Hell, these kids were easy.

"Oh, isn't that just too sweet," crooned Orlando. Slumped at the opposite end of the table from Griffith, his chin rested on his hand. "Everybody behaving like little girls."

Griffith calmly finished chewing his cornflakes. "For all those who think good manners are restricted to females, think if you ever want a date with one of those females."

There were smiles and snickers, many launched in Orlando's direction. The boy's bronzed skin flushed and he glared darkly at Griffith.

Correction, Griffith thought to himself. All of them were easy except one. But he would get through to Orlando, too. Griffith was fixed on the idea. He smiled at the boy as he wondered just how...

But Griffith's notions regarding the motivation of Orlando faded as he felt the prickly thorns on his back moving, sinking deeper. Dammit, Kate was coming over. Griffith's stomach clenched unpleasantly.

He already knew Kate was wearing a button-down sleeveless shirt. He knew she had on butter-soft blue jeans. He knew her hair was bound in a simple ponytail. He knew all of that, and he knew the strange effect it was having on him.

Almost as if...he were nervous.

But he put on a bright, guileless smile as he turned to greet her. "Well, good morning there, Miss Kate." He tried to make it brisk, to keep himself the one in charge.

She barely glanced at him. Instead she directed her gaze down the table of well-behaved campers. "Good morning, boys."

"Good morning, Miss Kate," they replied as one, just as if Griffith had rehearsed it with them.

Her smile was pure sunshine. And sincere. That was the killer, Griffith thought. When she addressed the kids, she seemed to mean every word she said.

"I'm giving a 'Caught Being Good' to the entire bunk," Kate went on. "What a fine example of discipline and manners you all are."

Everyone except Orlando sat up straighter in their seats. Even Griffith felt his spine extend.

Kate went on in the same vein to the boys, but Griffith was doing his best not to listen. His eyes narrowed. He didn't want his spine extending because of Kate's approval. In fact, that was the only fly in the ointment here. In taking steps to regain his self-respect, he was coincidentally doing exactly what Kate wanted him to do.