Season of Passion (4 page)

For New Year's? What do you want to do that for, sweetheart? It's foggy and cold. Pizza, sure. Tacos, okay. Strawberries, what the hell. But Carmel in December? He grinned at her and ran a hand over her still flat belly. But soon ' soon ' the thought made him warm inside. Their baby' his son.

I want to go to Carmel because it's the first place we ever went together. Can we? She looked like a little girl again, although she was going to be twenty-three soon. They had known each other for five years. And of course he gave in to her wish.

If the lady wants to go to Carmel, then Carmel it is. And Carmel it was. The best suite at the best hotel, and even the weather smiled on them for the three days they were there. Kate's only worry was that Tom bought everything in sight for her and the baby, whenever they wandered past the shops on the main thoroughfare. But they spent a lot of time in their room, drank a great deal of champagne, and the worry faded.

Did I ever tell you how much I love you, Mr. Harper?

I love to hear it, Princess. Oh Kate And then he swept her up in a giant hug and held her close. I'm sorry you've had such a stinking time. I promise I'll shape up now. All that bullshit is over.

Just so you're happy. She looked so peaceful lying in his arms, and he had never thought her more beautiful.

I've never been happier. And he finally looked it

Then maybe this would be a good time to quit

What do you mean? He looked shocked.

I mean football, my love. Maybe now, we should just take the money and run. No more hassles, no more crap about your being an Old man.' Just us, and the baby.

And starvation.

Come on, sweetheart. We're nowhere near starving yet. But she was startled. If he was so concerned about money, why the mink coat, the ring?

No, but we don't have a real, solid nest egg. Not enough to do right by the baby in five or ten years.

Another good year on the team will make all the difference.

We can invest my modeling money.

That's yours. His voice sounded cold for a minute. You wanted that, and you earned it. I'll take care of you and the baby. And that's it. I don't want to talk about it.

Okay.

His face had softened then and they had made love in the soft light of dusk. Kate was reminded of their first honeymoon in Cleveland. But it was Tom who fell asleep this time, as he lay in Kate's arms, and she watched him. She watched him for hours, thinking, hoping this year would be different, that they'd be decent to him, that the pressures wouldn't get to him as cruelly as they had before. That was all she wanted now. She was growing up.

The day after they went back to San Francisco there was a story in the papers that reported that Tom Harper was through. It was carried by every major paper in the country. Through. He went crazy when he read it, and a little careful digging brought him the information that the story had been planted by the team ' by the team ' the team ' the Old Man' . He had slammed out of the house without a word to Kate, and she hadn't seen him until six that night. On the news.

He had gone to the home of the owner of the team and threatened his life, then he had gotten into a fight with the team's manager, who had walked in on the scene. Both men had realized that Tom was drunk and wildly irrational, and the owner claimed that Tom had been like a madman, raving about what they couldn't do to his son. In a careful monotone the newscaster explained that Tom Harper didn't have a son; he didn't need to add the conclusion that Harper was obviously crazy. And as Kate watched, her heart rose to her throat. The newscaster went on to explain that the two men had tried to subdue Harper as he ranted and swung wildly at them both. But unexpectedly, Harper had pulled a gun out of his pocket, taken aim at the owner of the team, and then swung wildly on the manager and fired a shot. Miraculously, he had missed, but before anyone could move, he had then pointed the gun at himself, taken erratic aim, and fired twice. But this time he didn't miss. The manager and team owner were both unharmed, but Harper himself had been hospitalized in critical condition. The newscaster stared somberly from the television for a moment and gravely intoned, A tragedy for American football.

For the tiniest moment Kate had the insane feeling that if she jumped up and changed the dial, none of it would have happened; all she had to do was switch channels and someone else would say it wasn't true. It couldn't be true. Not Tom ' oh please, not Tom ' please ' she was whimpering softly as she turned around and stared at the room, wondering what to do. They hadn't said what hospital Tom was in. What was she supposed to do? Call the police? The team? The television station? And why hadn't anyone called her? But then she remembered she had taken the phone off the hook for two hours while she took a nap. Oh God ' what if ' what if he was already dead? Sobbing, she turned off the television and ran to the phone. Felicia ' Felicia would know ' she would help her. Without thinking, she dialed Felicia's private line at the store. She was still there.

Felicia was stunned by the news and ordered Kate not to move. As she had her assistant call for a cab on one line, she called the police on another, and got the information. Tom was at San Francisco General. He was still alive barely, but he was alive. Felicia fled from her office at a run, wondering for a moment why Kate had called her. Surely there was someone else. Her mother, a closer friend, someone? She and Kate were good friends through their work, but they'd never seen much of each other socially. Kate was always too busy with Tom. The hub of that girl's life was the man who lay dying at San Francisco General.

When Felicia arrived at the apartment, Kate was incoherent, but dressed. The cab was still waiting downstairs.

Come on, put your shoes on.

My shoes. Kate looked blank. My shoes? Tears filled her eyes again and she looked grayish green. Felicia found the closet and a pair of black flats.

Here. Kate slid her feet into them and left the apartment without handbag or coat, but Felicia slipped her own coat over the girl's shoulders. She didn't need a bag, anyway, because she was in no condition to go anywhere alone. And she didn't have to. Felicia stayed with her day and night for four days, and at the end of that time Tom was still alive. He was in a coma, and the prognosis was poor, but he was alive. He had done a fairly thorough job when he fired, though. He would never walk again, and there was no way to tell yet how extensive the brain damage was.

When Felicia went back to work, Kate carried on like a machine, moving from Tom's bed to the corridor to his bed to the corridor, to cry alone. It was a treadmill which Felicia joined her on when she could, but there was no getting Kate away from the hospital. She was mourning for Tom. She just sat there, staring, or crying, or smoking, but she wasn't really there, and the doctor was afraid to give her anything, in case the medication hurt the baby. Felicia was amazed that she hadn't lost it.

While the newspapers tore Tom apart, Kate tore herself apart. Why hadn't she seen some sign? Why hadn't she known? Could she have helped? Did she take his worries about the future followed by those spending binges seriously enough? It was all her fault. It had to be. With the egotism of grief, she tormented herself day after day. Football. It had been his whole life, and now it had killed him. The thought that he'd almost killed two other men was even more terrifying, but she didn't believe he could have done that. Not Tom. But what he had done was bad enough. He had destroyed himself. Poor gentle Tom, driven berserk at the idea of losing that last year of security he wanted for his son. Kate didn't let herself think about the baby though. Only about Tom. It was a nightmare that went on for seven weeks, while Kate paced and cried and was constantly haunted by reporters. And then he came to.

He was weak, broken, and tired, but little by little he grew stronger. He would live now what was left of him they were sure of it. He would never walk again, but he could move. He could talk. And he could think. Just like a child. The long weeks of coma had moved him backward in time and left him there, with all his sweetness and tenderness and love intact. He was a little boy again. He remembered nothing of the shooting, but he recognized Kate. He cried in her arms as she stifled silent sobs which shook her tall, terrifyingly thin frame. The only thing he truly understood was that he belonged to her. But he wasn't sure how. Sometimes he thought she was his mother, sometimes his friend. He called her Katie. He would never call her Princess again' Katie ' that's who she was now.

You won't leave me?

Gravely, she shook her head. No, Tom.

Never?

Never. I love you too much ever to leave you. Her eyes filled with tears again, and she had to force ordinary thoughts into her head. She couldn't let herself really think of him when she said the words, or it would kill her. She couldn't let herself cry. She couldn't do that to him.

I love you too. And you're pretty. He looked at her with the bright, shiny eyes of a seven-year-old boy, and the wan, tired face of an unshaven, desperately sick man.

After a few weeks, he looked better again, healthy and whole. It was strange to see him, the ersatz Tom. It was as though Tom had left, and sent in his stead a small boy who looked like him. It would be that way forever. But Tom's condition settled the legal aspects of the case permanently. There was no case. Tom Harper was no more.

Three months after what Kate and Felicia called the accident, Tom was moved to a sanatarium in Carmel. Photographers had lunged at the ambulance as he was being wheeled inside. Tom had wanted to wave at them, and Kate had distracted him while he held tightly to her hand. She was used to them now. Some of the faces were even familiar. For three months they had torn her apart in story after story, exploded flashbulbs in her face, and crawled over the roof of their house to get a better view into the apartment. She had no one to turn to, to defend her. No family, no man. And they knew it. They even ran stories about how her family had disowned her years before because of Tom, and how they thought of her as dead. And she had lain in bed at night, sobbing, praying that the press would go away and leave her alone. But they didn't. Not for one day. Until he was moved to Carmel. And then, magically, it was as though they forgot. As though Tom no longer existed, or Kate, his wife. The two of them had left the magic circle. At last.

When Tom left San Francisco, so did Kate. The house was already waiting. Felicia had seen the ad, and the place turned out to be perfect. The owner lived in the East; his mother had died, leaving him a house he didn't need and didn't want to sell. One day he would retire there, and in the meantime it was Kate's hideaway, nestled in the mountains north of Santa Barbara. It was a three-hour drive from Tom's sanatarium in Carmel, but Felicia assumed that Kate would be back in San Francisco as soon as things calmed down, right after the baby was born. It was a pretty house, surrounded by fields and trees, with a little brook just down the hill from the house. It would be a good place to recover. It would have been a wonderful place to share with Tom. Kate tried not to think of that as she signed the lease.

After four months she was used to it; it was home. She awoke at dawn when the baby kicked and stirred, hungry for more space than she had to give him. She lay quietly, feeling him pound inside her, wondering what she would tell him one day. She had thought of changing her name, but decided not to. She was Kate Harper. No one else. She didn't want her father's name anymore. And Tom's baby would be a Harper. Tom didn't understand now about the swollen belly, or maybe he just didn't care. Children didn't, Kate reminded herself, as long as nothing changed for them. Nothing had. She went on visiting him, often at first, and only slightly less frequently as the pregnancy progressed. Nowadays it was twice a week. She was always there. She always would be, as he had been for her. There was no question of it. This was her life now. She had accepted it. She understood, as much as one can. Always, whatever that meant. Forever, whatever that was. It meant that each time she saw him, he was the same, always would be. Until one day, when he would quietly die. There was no way to say when. The doctor said he might live to be considerably older, though not what was normally thought of as old. Or it might all end in a year or less. At some point, Tom's body would simply fade and die. He would just let go. Unconsciously, but he would. And Kate would be there, for all the time in between, loving him. He still looked like Tom, and now and then there was still that magical light in his eyes. It allowed her to pretend that ' but it was a futile game. Now she held him as he once had held her. She didn't even cry anymore.

Kate stood up after her call from Felicia, pushed open the window, and took a deep breath of summer air. She smiled to herself. There were new flowers in the garden. She would take him some. She could still love him. She could always love him. Nothing would change that.

The clock on the bedside table said six twenty-five. She had half an hour to get on the road if she wanted to be there before ten. It was a hell of a drive. A hell of a way to grow up but she had. Kate Harper was no longer any kind of child. And the baby stirred in her belly as she slipped off her nightgown and stepped into the shower. She had a long day ahead.