Karma (6 page)

Marcy's
head spun. This new job of hers just got weirder and weirder. Where was she
going now?

This
literally movie star handsome security guy had surprised her. He'd had such an
unexpected reaction, when he found out how her mother had died. Apparently he
was worried and protective on her behalf, which was sweet, really.

His
stern response created a tight painful pleasure in her chest. It was a long
time since anyone had showed such concern for her welfare. What was the deal
with him? Why should he care when he had only just met her?

Marcy
decided she didn't know the man well enough to pursue the clearly sensitive
subject. He would talk to her about it if he wanted to.

They
had taken the express elevator down to where Mike had parked his black BMW. Marcy
was happy to lighten the mood by giving him more ribbing about him taking on
the personality and possessions of the Transporter.

"Admit
it," she said, strapping on her seat belt. "You
are
the Transporter."

He
smiled that endearing, cocky smile of his and said in his feigned English
accent, "You just keep thinking that sweetheart."

Marcy
giggled. He asked her how she felt about a round of miniature golf at the "Putt
Park" miniature golf course? It had eighteen holes. Marcy was up for
anything as long as André didn't mind, and told him so.

"Hey,"
Mike said. "Have you ever been fishing?"

Marcy
frowned and regarded him suspiciously. That was an odd out of the blue question.
"Sure. I used to fish all the time at Lake Mohave with my mom and dad. I think
my dad would have preferred a son, but he had to settle with me."

"I
don’t believe it," Mike said. "You would have been a cute little
girl. I bet you had him wrapped around your finger."

Marcy
just laughed. Dad would have definitely preferred a boy. Her father certainly
hadn't been perfect, but he had loved her – Marcy never doubted that. Her
ongoing problem with her daughter darkened her thoughts for a moment, despite
the cheerful mood she was in.

What
was she going to do about Trent? Katie's father's neglect was so painful,
especially when Katie asked about him, which she did often. Could a mother's
love make up for a father's flagrant disinterest, absence and abandonment?

The
slow drive through traffic combined with the silence in the car and the beguiling
warmth of the Vegas November blue skies and noonday sun got to her. Even though
she had worked a double and was exhausted, Marcy had hardly slept the night
before because she had been so excited about her new job.

As
she lay back in the passenger seat, her eyes drifted shut.

Already
it had been a big day. She had driven an expensive French sports car and had a
memorable conversation with her new boss. She had met so many people and they
had all been loud and welcoming - except for Mike who had been just as
welcoming but in a quiet, subtle sort of way.

Mike
Thompson was a sweetie. He had a strong yet gentle personality that was
soothing. Mike had touched her, peremptorily taking her by the hands, and it
hadn't bothered her somehow.

Here
in the car with Mike Thompson she felt relaxed and safe and happy. Everyone she
had met had been so nice. Marcy felt grateful. Life was really, really good and
she was so lucky. That was her last conscious thought as she drifted off to
sleep.

And
as she slept, she dreamed.

~~~

Ever
since her mother died, Marcy had been having regular dreams of her. In her
dreams, her mom was unhappy, gesturing and speaking - trying to tell her
something important. Marcy always woke up, having no idea what the dream meant
or what he mother was trying to say.

This
dream was different. It was an actual memory.

Marcy
Paget was eleven years old on the unforgettable day that they all went fishing
on Lake Mohave, in their small red dingy with the outboard motor.

"That's
the second line I've had to cut today!" her father said in an angry voice.
His round face was red, his dark eyes flashing.

Marcy,
as usual, cringed inside.

Dad
never ever hit her, but he sure could yell when he was in a mood. Even worse,
nothing hurt Marcy as much as the sneaking certainty that she was a disappointment
to him. She never could measure up to his strict standards, yet she really
wanted to because she loved her dad.

"I
told you to keep your line away from the weeds. Isn't one lost hook and sinker
enough for you? How many am I going to have to replace today?"

"I'm
sorry dad," Marcy said. "I didn’t know. Maybe there was a log under
the water. I'm doing my best…"

"Well
I guess your best is not good enough is it?" he growled. "You can't
do anything right sometimes can you? Not even fishing. Even at school you only
get a C average."

"That's
not true. I got an A in …"

"In
art," he finished sarcastically. "How is that going to help you in
life? Can't you understand? I only want what's best for you. If only you had
stuck to gymnastics you may have had a chance at the Olympics. You were a
natural. I never thought I'd raise a quitter."

"Joe,
she didn’t do it on purpose," Marcy's mother, Ruth intervened. "She
just lost interest," Ruth said patiently, "and you're losing your
temper over nothing."

"Nothing?
Nothing! These hooks cost money you know!"

Everyone
went quiet. Marcy's mom just raised her eyebrows and shrugged at her daughter
in a "don’t mind him, he's in a bad mood" look. Mom was
always
on her side. Marcy could not imagine living a single a day without her mother. Marcy
knew that dad was just getting frustrated by the lack of fish, and resolved to
lay extra low and try not to annoy him.

The
boat rocked suddenly as her dad got a tug on his line. "I got a bite! Ruth,
get the net. Now watch me land this beauty."

"What
is it? Can you see it?" Marcy asked, peering over into the water.

If
dad landed a decent sized bass, or even a catfish, his mood would improve. If
he caught a nice tasty rainbow trout for dinner he would be in a good mood for
days. That possibility seemed too good to be true, because they hadn't caught a
trout for ages.

"Here
it comes," her dad said. "Oh crap, it's too darn small. Look at
this," he snapped out in disgust, unhooking the small fish and throwing it
back into the water. "This spot is no good." At that Joe Paget restarted
the small outboard motor, turned the boat around and went further along the lake.

While
fishing at the new place, Marcy managed to foul her line again, this time very deep
in the water. How did this keep happening to her? She surreptitiously tugged
and tugged but the stupid line just couldn’t be freed. Frightened that she
would upset her father more, she silently motioned to her mother. Sympathizing
with her, finger to lips, mom gave a hand signal and attempted to unfoul the
line while not attracting attention.

"Who's
rocking the boat?" Joe growled.

"I'm
sorry dad," Marcy said, desperately anxious and not wanting to displease
him.

"Not
again!"

"It's
not her fault, Joe," her mom quickly put in.

"Not
her fault?" he growled. "I came out here to catch fish. Marcy comes out
to catch weeds and logs." As he pulled his knife and reached over to cut
the line, Marcy and her father both noticed that the water had begun to thrash.
"Oh my God Marcy! It's a fish! Look at the size of it! Don’t let it get
away! Quick! Pull it in!"

"You
do it dad," she said, attempting to hand rod over. The responsibility of
landing this fish was too great. What if she failed? Her dad would be even more
upset with her.

"No!
No! We might lose it!" he gasped the order. "Keep reeling it in. Don’t
let up the tension, there's a good girl. Quick, Ruth, get the net. Look at
that! It’s a rainbow trout!"

"Oh,"
Marcy said, awed over the brilliance of the colorful fish as she pulled it to
the surface and close to the dingy. "It's so beautiful."

"By,
God," Joe said. "It's the biggest one I've ever seen."

Marcy
began to falter, struggling with the thrashing efforts of the creature and pitting
her slight strength against that of the fish. Anxious she said, "I don’t
know if I can hold it dad…"

"Yes
you can. We're almost there. I can get the net under it now. Good Lord, it's
too big for the net!" Joe pulled the fish out and threw it in the boat. "A
trout by God! A ginormous rainbow trout!" He whooped and laughed out loud.
"Guess what we're going to have for dinner?"

Joe
hugged his daughter
hard
while the beautiful trout flailed vigorously in
the bottom of the boat. Her mother sat nearby, grinning at her, her face bright
with joy.

I
caught a great big rainbow trout. Dad is pleased with me
,
she mused. Marcy's whole body tingled and her jaw was sore from smiling. She had
never felt so incredibly happy.

"Just
wait till the guys in the anglers club see this whopper!" her dad said.

Dad
was
proud
of her. It was then that her tangled emotions became too much
for her young heart to bear. "I did it," Marcy said in a hitching
breath. Joyful tears began to run down her cheeks.

"You
sure did," her father said, patting her on the back in a show of affection
that he almost never gave. "That's my baby girl! You are the best, do you
know that? See? I told you that you could do it." He started up the boat
and they began making their way back to the jetty.

Marcy's
heart was so full that her chest ached with the pleasure of it. Both dad and
mom were smiling at her.

"C'mon,"
her dad said. "Let's go get this big fellow weighed."

~~~

The
sound of the car engine switching off jerked her awake. Mike Thompson was
looking at her, his face filled with concern as she opened her eyes.

"You
were so sound asleep," he said in a quiet voice. "I didn’t want to
wake you, but then you started twitching. Were you having a bad dream?"

Marcy
sat up and gave him a half smile. The memory of that happy day was bright and fresh
in her mind. Both of her parents had been very much alive, and better yet, for
once in her life her father had been proud of her.

"No,"
she said, shaking her head. "It was a really, really good one."

Mike
took only a second to process this remark. Marcy saw the exact moment when
understanding lit his eyes.

"Oh,"
he said solemnly, shaking his head with a soft, sympathetic smile. "I know
exactly what you're talking about. The good dreams hurt most of all."

Marcy
maintained her outward composure, but inside was the thrill and shock of
astonishment. How did he know? She hadn't needed to explain. Mike Thompson
"got" her, he honestly did. That knowledge warmed something deep
inside.

Sharing
such an intimate, human moment with another person was such a rarity. Marcy
decided that she had better guard her heart. She still hadn't a clue as to what
love was, but that didn’t matter.

Marcy
knew that she could easily fall in love with a man like him.

The
familiar warmth of dry Nevada air pressed down upon Marcy. Mike came around and
courteously held the car door for her, even though she had already opened it. She
was peering out at the sign that said, "The Putt Park."

Mike
had apparently decided to completely ignore the poignant understanding they had
shared about her happy dream. That was okay with Marcy, but now there were two
sensitive subjects that they had run into already.

The
day was going to become difficult if things went on like that.

As
she got out of the car a flock of Brewer's Blackbirds was disturbed by her proximity.
Chirping with indignation, they flew off from where they had been resting upon
a nearby leafless tree. The tree's naked branches quivered with their
departure.

"Sorry
for falling asleep," she said. "You should have woken me."

He
laughed and showed her the bag he had in his hand. "I tried to. Good Lord,
woman. I drove through a Subway, ordered food, paid for it, and you didn’t even
twitch. I hope you like turkey. Man, you must be exhausted."

"I
could hardly sleep last night because I was pretty excited about this new
job," she said candidly.

He
handed her the bag of food and took his jacket off, throwing it in the back
seat of his car. "Well, I haven't worked it out yet," he said with
raised eyebrows. "Should I be insulted that I'm so boring that you just
went straight to sleep the moment you and I were alone?" His lips curled
in a teasing smirk. "Or should I be flattered that you are comfortable
enough to sleep with me?"

Marcy
giggled. "I am so
not
going to answer that."

He
shot her a smart-ass smile. Placing his hand on her lower back, he guided her
toward the entrance to the golf course. There he was, touching her again. Why
did he have to do that? And why did she let him?

To
her surprise, the warm feel of his firm male fingers caused an unfamiliar physical
flutter in her belly. She liked Mike. He was someone that she could be herself
with, but was he flirting with her? His touch felt incredible. His hand
generated heat and the enticing sensation of… what?
Crap!
It was the
distinct buzz of sexual attraction.

Damn
it all, am I getting turned on by him?

Frowning,
Marcy stopped walking instantly.

"What?"
Mike said, dropping his hand and turning toward her.

"I
don’t know if André said anything to you, but just so you know, I don’t date.
Ever."

"Was
I asking you out?" he said with an entirely too innocent poker-face.

"No,
but I just wanted to say that. Just so we're clear."

They
went into the mini golf club which was fairly quiet, it being the middle of a
school day. Mike bought the tickets. Dating or not, this was his idea so she
didn’t offer to help pay. Besides, André was probably covering any costs and her
employer had a car worth $2,500,000. He could afford it.

They
ate while looking out over the course. Mike bought drinks and treats. Neither
said much, yet their silence was companionable. Marcy felt at ease with him. What
was that about? Afterwards she thanked him for lunch.

With
a serious air, Mike unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. Marcy
couldn't help but be admiring of his muscular arms. She had to wonder, what did
he do to remain so fit? And what would it feel like to be held safe and warm in
those arms? Marcy checked herself, forcing that unexpected idea away. She never
noticed men usually.

Why
did she feel so comfortable with Mike? She needed to protect herself better,
because with her track record she couldn't trust him.

Mike
Thompson had done a background check and knew everything about her. But what
did she know about him? He could have a wife and twenty mistresses that he was
keeping happy.

As
sweet as the man seemed, she wasn't stupid enough to fall for the whole love
thing again. Not to mention enduring the frustration, guilt, shame and
disappointment of the sexual act. Marcy had never experienced the magical delight
of orgasm. Was it a myth? Who knew?

Besides,
she had a daughter now. She didn’t want to risk the possibility of another
irresponsible, soul-draining, self-absorbed man in her life. A man who no doubt
would break both of their hearts.

When
all was ready, they began their game of mini-golf.

For
such a normally quiet person, Marcy knew that she was shockingly competitive.
She was aware that she had surprised him when she demanded an extra stroke at
each hole because, "I haven't played here before and you have." The match
was closely fought, and once she even accused him of cheating.

In
the height of competitive emotion, Marcy's index finger stabbed repeatedly into
his pectoral muscles as she said, "You moved that ball and I saw it!
Cheater! Cheaters never prosper; didn't anyone ever tell you that?"

Damn
he smelled good. She took a deep breath, wanting to inhale that intriguing
scent of musk and man. Scowling, she studied his chest, surprised that she had
touched him. Marcy was normally reserved and self-contained. She avoided the
intimacy of touching others.

"By
the way, your pecs are hard as a brick wall," she added as an afterthought.

Mike
didn't crack a smile as he stood over her all big and male and tough guy.
"Do you want to keep that finger?" he mildly asked her in his feigned
English accent.

Marcy
cracked up. In this one afternoon spent with Mike she couldn’t remember
laughing so much in her life. Somehow she found herself telling him about her
daughter, Katie, and what a great kid she was. He talked about his nieces and
nephews, and his three siblings – two of them happily married, one after an
unpleasant divorce.

They
played two games, winning one each. The third game Marcy won causing her to
whoop and jump and laugh with pleasure. When she saw the odd little smile that
played on Mike's face she said, "What?"

"Nothing."

"You
let me win, didn’t you?"

"Maybe,"
he said, causing her to giggle again. He shouldn’t have let her win. The fact
he did, ought to have upset her, but it didn't.

"Hey,
weren't you supposed to be asking me questions or something? I thought you were
going to tell me about Mr. Chevalier's business."

Mike
wore a chagrined expression. "I was going to," he admitted. "The
plan was to chat while playing a leisurely game of mini-golf. But I had no idea
that you were such a fierce opponent. You like to win don't you?"

"Yep."

"Could
you see us having a serious discussion during this innocent game of mini golf?"

Marcy
grinned. "Nope."

When
they got back to the club, Marcy retrieved her bag from a locker and was
disturbed to see a number of messages left on her cell phone. She returned a
call immediately, and spoke to the school nurse. Katie had broken her arm and
had been taken to the nearest hospital. She quickly wrote down the address and
hung up.

Mike,
standing beside her, wore a concerned expression on his face. "I
heard," he said. "Let's go," Taking her elbow he propelled her
forward before she had a chance to even open her mouth.

Mike
was in her personal space, touching her again, only this time Marcy didn't
notice.