Count on Me (Bayview Heights Trilogy) (13 page)

“Not on your life, Caruso. I played Helen Keller once.”

He was beginning to see why Zoe liked working with kids so much. They were both refreshingly young, yet astonishingly astute. And they could be very funny.

Erica said, “Okay, open this.”

His fingers fumbled on the cellophane of the graham crackers.

“For a doctor, you’re pretty clumsy.” This time her tone was teasing.

“Wait till it’s your turn.”

He repeated the process with the chocolate.

“Hey, no sneaking a piece,” Erica chided.

Kurt laughed.

“You got it on your face.”

“Where?”

She giggled her way through the directions as he tried to clean it off.

“All right, now I’ll put the marshmallows on,” Erica told him. “Wouldn’t want you to get burned.”

He could smell the marshmallows. Feel the dessert squish when he added the top cracker. Eating a s’more without seeing it heightened the taste—gooey, ultra sweet and crunchy.

“All right,” the director said minutes later. “Take off the blindfolds.”

Kurt’s eyes stung when he removed his bandanna. Squinting, he scanned the circle. As he’d expected, Zoe sat too close to Ransom. The guy was cleaning off her fingers with a napkin, and he looked as if he might even take a lick. Kurt’s chest hurt with the effort to contain his feelings.

Quietly Erica came up behind him. “Leave her alone, Dr. Lansing.” Gone was the gentle teasing of just minutes earlier. An aggressiveness, a sense of control, replaced it.

Oh, Lord, Zoe would hate the kids getting involved in her problems. She was a private person in so many ways.

“Now,” the director announced, “let’s switch blindfold partners.”

His back to Zoe, Kurt raised his brows at Erica. “Your turn to trust me, Red Riding Hood.” He did a fair imitation of the wolf.

She glanced over his shoulder at Zoe. “Maybe,” she said, and accepted the blindfold.

o0o

“THIS IS THE OBSTACLE COURSE that each group member will navigate. Teams are not in competition.” The Down to Earth director eyed the kids and adults assembled at nine o’clock Saturday morning. “Your team of four has several activities to complete. Each person must do each activity. If someone has difficulty with one, it’s the rest of the group’s job to help them.”

Barb Sherman, who’d arrived an hour ago with Evan and Rob, said brightly, “That’s the objective of this morning, kiddos. Cooperation, problem-solving as a group and trust-building.”

Good-naturedly the kids moaned. Already they were tired of hearing why they were here. Zoe knew that, but it was important to reiterate that they weren’t just out for fun.

“Which group would like to go first?”

Kurt stepped right up. He looked rested today and sexy in a Georgetown sweatshirt, worn jeans and boots. “We do.”

Julia, Shondra and Dan rolled their eyes. “Why do the adults always volunteer to go first?” Julia asked.

“Who knows?” Shondra answered. “God, I’m going to be so embarrassed.”

Kurt faced them. “It’s best to go first. Get it over with.” When they frowned at him, he said, “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

The three kids smiled and crowded around the director for instructions on the first activity. Hoffman held on to a ten-foot rope that was suspended from a sturdy tree limb far above their heads. “This is called the ‘swing obstacle.’ Grab on to the rope like this—” he clasped his hands as high on the rope as he could reach “—take a running leap, or have your peers push you off, and swing over the grass past that marker on the ground. You have to get on the other side of it. Once there, stay and catch your partners.”

After the explanation, he demonstrated the task.

Then Dan said, “I’ll go first.” Grabbing the rope, he stepped back several feet. “Me Tarzan!” he yelled as he took the leap and crossed the grassy area, easily clearing it.

Julia rolled her eyes. “How cute.”

Shondra went next. She missed on her first try. And her second. “I’m a klutz,” she told the others.

“All right, let’s help her.” Kurt grinned as he showed her how to grab the rope; then he and Julia swung her back and forth three times and gave her a final shove; she made it over. Dan grabbed her on the other side and hugged her.

“Help me,” Julia said to Kurt.

Again he grinned. “Be glad to.”

With Kurt’s assistance, she made it to the other side. His turn now, Kurt grasped the rope, stepped back several feet and took some running steps; he flew over the grass, well past the marker. With so much momentum behind him, when the kids tried to catch him, the four of them toppled over in a heap.

Giggles and masculine chuckles emanated from the ground as they gathered themselves up; Dan dusted dirt off the back of Kurt’s clothes and Shondra picked leaves out of Julia’s hair. Zoe smiled.

An hour later they got to the next activity. The kids crowded around as the director indicated a log suspended horizontally about ten feet above the ground by a chain on either end. “Each person has to crawl up onto the log, sit on it, then come down on the other side.”

“Nobody can reach it,” Shelley said. “It’s too high.” Her group, along with Zoe and Rob and Barb Sherman went first this time. Ashley, who’d gotten dizzy on the swing obstacle, had been excused from this one.

“Right,” Hoffman said. “The group has to boost each person up, and then get them down on other side. It’s called cooperation.”

Rob mumbled, “No fair. Some groups got the short stuffs.”

Zoe marched up to Rob and poked him in the chest as she looked up at him. “No short jokes, buddy. I can hold my own.” Her height didn’t matter on the Tarzan thing, Zoe thought five minutes later, but it clearly was a drawback on the “log mount.” Her diminutive stature necessitated several more tries than the other participants. Twice, her group fell to the ground, laughing. But finally Zoe was perched on top of the log. “Hey,” she said, raising her arms. “I made it.”

They completed two other obstacles—a mechanism called the “traverse,” where, ten feet above the ground, they crossed a tightrope holding on to another horizontal rope, which was chest high. For the second, they had to crawl on their bellies or hands and knees through big pipes and square boxlike objects. Finally came the last and most complicated obstacle. It involved pulleys, safety harnesses and tightrope lines, all of which they’d used in other exercises, but this thing was higher than the others, and more precarious.

Kurt’s group went first again.

“Okay, Dr. Lansing,” Julia said; Zoe noticed the girl was smiling. “Since you’re such a hotshot, you start us off.”

Kurt stepped right up.

“I’ll walk you through it,” the director said after he’d demonstrated the four part obstacle. First—” he held out a rope ladder “—climb this. Your group will anchor it.”

“Cooperation,” Kurt mumbled under his breath as he whipped off his sweatshirt, revealing a gray cotton T-shirt underneath. Muscles bulging, he ascended the rope ladder. The kids let it sway a bit to tease him, but mostly held on tight. When he reached the first platform—all platforms were attached to huge trees—he punched the air and shouted, “Yes!”

“Now, lock one end of the safety harness to the overhead safety line. Check that the other end is tight at your waist.” Kurt followed the directions. “The best way to get over the tire bridge—” the director pointed to the molded-together tires that looked like a rubber cylinder suspended between two platforms “—is to walk. But you’re allowed to crawl, too, if you can’t get your balance. You can hold on to the horizontal anchor rope over your head.”

Zoe swallowed hard, suddenly uncomfortable when Kurt chose to walk. He got his balance easily and stepped over the tires like a Barnum and Bailey pro, lightly hanging on to the stretched overhead line until he reached the other side.

“This is freakin’ scary,” Julia said, scowling as she watched Kurt.

“I’m not gonna be able to do that,” Shondra put in.

“Wow!” Erica’s comment came from behind her. “I wanna fly like that.”

Erica’s was an odd comment, especially for a girl who’d refused to go on the roller coaster when they’d gone to Six Flags last year.

Zoe’s stomach clutched when Kurt reached the last part of the obstacle. Though she’d done this very course before, it was different watching Kurt do it. He seemed inordinately high up. And the final obstacle was the toughest. The object was to cross the last space by stepping on a series of three tiny swings; Zoe herself had had trouble with this part.

“Okay, Kurt, make sure the harness is secure to the overhead line. And don’t grab on to the caribiner if you fall,” Hoffman said, referring to the harness attachment. “Now grab the ropes of the first swing and step out into it.”

Standing on the platform, Kurt grasped the two ropes of the small swing. He stepped out with one foot, then another to stand fully on the first board. The thing swayed back and forth with his weight. “Jeez,” she heard him say.

Hoffman told him, “Now grab the other swing, bring it close to you and hold both ropes with one hand.”

Following Hoffman’s orders, Kurt made it to the next swing. Zoe felt her breathing pick up.

She was about to turn away so she didn’t have to watch him finish when a bird flew out from the trees; it was a huge crow, followed by two others. The flapping of their large wings seemed as loud as a small plane.

Zoe cupped her hands to warn Kurt, only to hear a collective gasp come from the kids.

It all happened quickly.

Kurt jerked as the birds flew near him and lost his balance.

His foot slipped off the last swing.

His hands slid down the ropes.

And he fell.

Luckily the harness held. But he was suspended a good thirty feet from the ground.

“Everybody quiet!” the director yelled.

The kids went completely still. Hoffman rushed to a ladder lying on the ground and threw it against the tree. “You’re not going to fall, Kurt,” Hoffman assured as he climbed up.

“If you say so.”

“Just stay still.” In seconds the director was at the top of the ladder on the platform. He unwound another coiled rope fastened to the tree. His voice was calm. “I’m going to toss this to you, and I want you to grab it.”

“Sure.”

Kurt missed the first toss. Several kids gasped. He also missed the second. Zoe felt her eyes sting. He caught hold of the rope the third time. Her hands covering her mouth, Zoe watched as he followed the rest of Hoffman’s instructions to swing over on the rope and pull himself up to the platform.

His face etched with concentration, Kurt swung toward the platform. When he came up to it, Hoffman, kneeling and secured by his own harness, grabbed Kurt under the armpits. Kurt, in turn, grabbed onto the base of the platform and held tight; he managed some footing against the tree. With Herculean strength and the help of Hoffman, Kurt dragged himself up to safety.

The students let out a raucous cheer. Zoe turned away. There was yelling behind her, comments, shouts of praise.

She stumbled into the trees. Shaking, she made her way to a log and sank onto it. She buried her face in her hands and ordered herself to calm down. It had all worked out. Kurt was safe.

But her hands wouldn’t stop trembling, and her throat worked convulsively. Never had she felt the kind of stark terror she had when she’d watched Kurt dangle thirty feet off the ground.

She didn’t know how long she’d sat there when she felt someone drop down beside her. Without even looking, she recognized his scent, the feel of him.

“I’m all right, sweetheart.”

They’d been too close for too long to pretend. “I know. It’s just that watching you...I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“I’m glad it didn’t happen to one of the kids.” His arm came around her. She leaned into him “Hoffman’s canceling the last obstacle. They’re too shaken to try it.”

Still Zoe said nothing, just turned her face into his shoulder. They stayed close for several seconds. His embrace felt good. He was so solid. So alive, smelling like clean honest sweat and the outdoors.

Finally he kissed the top of her head, drew away and stood. “Zoe?”

She looked up. Backdropped by the sun, he seemed tall and invincible. “I’m sorry you were worried.” He smiled. “But then again I’m not that sorry.” He turned and left.

For a minute, anger replaced fear. “Well, hell,” she said aloud. She hadn’t expected him to
use
this. Frowning, she stared after him.

o0o

KURT AWAKENED Sunday morning in a bad mood, the source of which he decided not to ponder, though he knew the situation with Zoe was a large part of it. As the boys slept around him, he dressed in sneakers, sweatpants and a shirt, then headed out to the basketball court to work off some of his frustrations.

It was a glorious Indian-summer morning. The birds chipped happily in the sunlight, and the grass and trees had a dew-kissed sheen that made them sparkle like polished jewels.

The paved basketball court—a twenty-foot circle of blacktop and a hoop—was nestled in a copse of maple trees some distance away from the lodge. When he reached it, he heard the familiar thud of the ball against the ground.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know anybody’d be here.” Even to Kurt’s own ears his voice was petulant.

Alex Ransom turned toward him, looking healthy and young and supremely confident. “No problem.” He bounced the ball, then took a shot. “Wanna play some one-on-one?”

Last night the man had danced with Zoe at the kids’ impromptu party, and he’d held her way too close. This morning, male challenge and a trace of primal competitiveness shone in Ransom’s dark eyes.

“Yeah, sure.”

Ransom turned, smiled and whipped off his T-shirt, revealing world-class muscles. So the guy visited a gym. Big deal.

“You take it out.” Ransom shot the ball hard at him.

Kurt caught it without flinching, dribbled in from the perimeter and headed straight for the basket. Ransom kept in front of him, edging backward. Five feet from the basket, Kurt went up for a shot. Ransom’s hand came down on the ball...and slapped Kurt’s arm in the follow-through. It stung like a son of a bitch.