Sweetest Desires (A Sweetest Day Romance) (6 page)

Chapter 8

When Katharine felt tension and
anxiety creeping into her world, she’d dream of being a ballerina, seeing her life as it would’ve been if she’d lived out her fantasy. It’d brought comfort and joy to her soul.

She lay curled in fetal position as she cried he
rself into a deep sleep. Ever since she’d attended her first ballet, The Nutcracker, as a little girl, she’d wanted to be a ballerina when she grew up. She’d spent countless hours in front of the mirror, practicing her ballet positions and steps. She’d decided her name would be Prima Ballerina Anna-Maria.

There she was, Anna-Maria, gracefully floating across the stage to
Tchaikovsky’s famous musical score—a special story about a little girl named Clara, with dancing snowflakes, a handsome prince, and a wondrous night.

After her fabulous performance, Anna-Maria bounced along the stage to the greatest of Tchaiko
vsky’s classical ballets, Swan Lake, the ultimate fairy tale portraying the tragic romance between the Swan Queen and Prince Siegfried. Behind her as she danced were a moonlit lake and graceful swan maidens.

The crowd roared with approval and tossed long-stemmed roses at her feet.

As the audience shouted “Encore!” and Anna-Maria curtsied gracefully, a bell rang. Anna-Maria looked around the stage for the source of the strange ringing, and Katharine blinked herself into consciousness. Lines of saliva slithered down the side of her mouth and spilled onto the goose down pillow. She closed her mouth and wiped her chin with the back of her hand. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a dream like this one.

Suddenly realizing the ringing sound was coming from the telephone, she rolled over to answer it. The crumpled magazines lying on the bed shocked her back to reality. Thanks to Carson’s transgression, she’d fallen asleep in the middle of the day.

“Ohmygosh! What time is it?” she said into the phone. “Hello?”

“Mrs. O’Connor. This is Ms. Washington from The Hartford School. It’s now a quarter till seven, and the after-school center has been closed for forty-five minutes. I called your office, but you weren’t in and left messages on your cell phone. I need to know what type of arrangement you’ve made for CJ and Bethany to be picked up. Also, I need to talk with you about CJ’s behavior.”

“I—I’m so sorry, Ms. Washington. I simply lost track of time. I’m on my way now. Thank you.” She returned the cordless handset to its base and scooped up the magazines, stuffing them into her dresser drawer. She splashed a few drops of water onto her face, brushed her hair, grabbed her purse, and hurried out the door.

When she entered the after-school center, CJ with his jacket zipped, had his back to the room and was gazing out the front window. His arms were folded across his chest as if he were mad at the world.

“Mom! Why are we the last ones to be picked up?” he shouted. “It isn’t fair! Where were you? We had to sit here and watch all the other kids’ moms pick them up. I hate being the last one here! I hate it here period!”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Katharine said. “Where’s Bethany?”

Before he could answer, Bethany toddled out of the little girls’ room. Seeing her mother, she ran to her and grabbed her around the waist. Katharine knelt down and hugged her, pressing her cheek against Bethany’s.

“Mommy’s so sorry, baby. I promise I won’t let this happen again.” She turned to CJ and tried to stroke his cheek, but he jerked away.

“CJ, that’s not nice,” Ms. Washington said.

“Be quiet!” CJ roared, rolling his eyes at his teacher. “You’re not my mother!”

“Now that’s enough!” Katharine scolded. “I’ve apologized! What more is there to offer?”

Angrily, CJ opened the door and escaped to the backseat of the car.

“That’s what I wanted to talk with you about,” Ms. Washington said.

Katharine turned her face to her daughter. “Bet
hany, honey, put your jacket on and go sit in the car with your brother.”

Bethany pouted. “I don’t want to. CJ’s mean.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You sit in the front seat and be very quiet. Mommy will be right there. I just want to talk with Ms. Washington for a moment. Okay?”

“Okay, but I still don’t want to.”

Katharine waited to make sure Bethany got in the car without any trouble from CJ. Since she couldn’t see CJ’s head, she assumed he was lying across the backseat.

“Mrs. O’Connor,” Ms. Washington began, pul
ling Katharine’s attention back to the matter at hand. “There’s been a huge change in CJ’s attitude. It’s like he’s transformed overnight. He’s not getting along with any of the children, and he’s constantly getting into fights with his best friends. CJ is a brilliant boy, but I really don’t know what’s going on with him. He won’t open up to anyone.”

“Yes,” Katharine said. “I’ve noticed a change in him myself. I just thought he was picking up bad habits from other children. He also likes watching The Simpsons. I try to keep him from viewing that show because I think it’s a bad influence on chi
ldren.”

Ms. Washington nodded in agreement.

“Thank you for notifying me of his conduct, Ms. Washington. I’ll talk with him and try to find out why it’s happening. If you continue to have problems with CJ, please let me know immediately.”

“No problem. I’m sure he’s just going through a phase, like all boys his age. It’ll work itself out.” Ms. Washington smiled and guided Katharine to the door.

“Thanks again, and I apologize for being late.”

Her smile remained. “Not a problem,” she said. But Katharine suspected she was telling a polite u
ntruth. She’d been with the children all afternoon dealing with CJ’s bad attitude and Bethany’s tears, and she hadn’t gone home at the regular hour because Katharine hadn’t picked them up.

* * *

Katharine and the children had eaten dinner and been settled into the house for over an hour when Carson stormed through the back door bellowing, “Kat! Kat!”

Katharine leaned over the cherry-finished ba
nister. She had moisturizer smeared over her face, and she was wearing a pair of baggy sweat pants and a wrinkled T-shirt. “I’m upstairs, Carson,” she called out. “I was just about to shower and—”

Carson looked up at her and frowned. “Where have you been, and where are the kids?” he shouted. “Where are CJ and Bethany?”

Katharine stared at him, alarmed by his fury and surprised to hear him refer to their children as kids. Both of them despised the term, considering it appropriate only for baby goats and other people’s unruly children. Deciding that his anger was her fault because she’d let him see her so unkempt and not wanting him to guess she’d seen his magazines, she attempted to placate him. “Calm down, sweetheart. The children are with me. They’re fine. What’s wrong?”

“The school phoned me to say that you’d failed to pick them up. I called you at work only to find you were out of the office all day. And when I repea
tedly phoned the house, no one answered. You didn’t answer your cell phone, either. Why am I even paying the cell phone bill if you don’t use it?”

“I didn’t hear it ringing.”

“What do you mean, didn’t hear it? What were you doing all day long since it’s obvious you didn’t go to work? You had me worried sick over the children.”

“Just the children? Don’t I count for an
ything?”

He lowered his eyes. “Well, you know what I mean,” he said, his temper cooling.

“The children are fine. You were the one missing in action.” She hadn’t meant to say the words, but the past twenty-four hours had left her drained, and her involved ballerina dream had not helped this time.

Carson rushed up the stairs, skipping every other one. He looked into the children’s bedrooms, but they weren’t there.

“They’re in our room,” Katharine said, following him as he rushed in that direction.

They found CJ relaxing on the huge bed with his hands behind his head while watching a DVD episode of Pinky and the Brain, and Bethany was lying on the floor, coloring in her book. Pinky and the Brain was another animated program Katharine disapproved of. She thought it was much too calculating and needlessly violent.

Carson enjoyed the program. It was the one cartoon he and CJ enjoyed watching together, roaring with laughter. He’d had to remind Katharine of the excessively violent kids’ programs they’d grown up watching: The Bugs Bunny/Road Runner Show and Tom and Jerry among them.

“Daddy!” Bethany rose from the floor and jumped into Carson’s arms.

“Hey, Dad.” CJ briefly looked at him and returned his attention to the television.

Katharine shooed the children from the room and sent them to the kitchen for a light snack. Then, wit
hout warning, she demanded, “Where were you last night, Carson?”

“You know where I was.” He sounded calmer now that he’d seen the children.

“I was up until after four this morning and you weren’t home,” Katharine returned.

“Katharine,” Carson said, clearly trying to sound non-confrontational. “I’ve just been awarded the most coveted citation in my field, something I’ve been working toward since the beginning of my career. Many men and women work in journalism until they retire, hoping each year will be their year to r
eceive this high honor, only to trudge away empty-handed. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and one of the happiest moments in my life. And you stand here and complain because I couldn’t keep our dinner reservation? Think about it. Which of the two is more important? I told you I’d make it up to you. Now please, be happy for me, or pretend to be happy for me for all the years of my hard labor.”

One
of the most happiest moments in your life? Katharine thought. What are the others? From the ways things have been, certainly not our marriage. Maybe the births of our children, she’d hoped.

She had no intention of reminding him that he’d stood her up at Cavalieri’s, but he’d opened the door for argument. She said nothing, thinking about the girlie magazines and how miserable her afternoon had been.

Carson glared at her face and expelled a long breath as though taking time out to get a grip. “Kat, what’s wrong with you lately? Every time I leave the house, you put me through a royal grilling.”

“Because you’re leaving the house more often and you stay for long periods that you can’t or won’t account for.”

“Account for? What, I’m not an adult? I’m not allowed to come and go of my own free will? I have to check in with you if I decide to stop for a Pepsi with a coworker? When I need to take a leak, shall I call you first and ask permission?”

“It won’t work, Carson,” Katharine responded, keeping her composure but matching the bite in his voice. “I’m not going to let you turn the tables and make me feel bad for asking why you were out all night.”

She moved in slow motion to the dresser drawer and nervously pulled out the magazines, extending them to him. “What are you doing with these? And especially in our house!”

He looked as dumbfounded as she’d felt a few hours earlier when she’d discovered the despicable magazines.

He gaped at her for several seconds before managing to articulate a startled, “Kat?” He sounded as if his throat had constricted, as though every blood vessel leading from his heart had converged there. He was struggling to breathe and staring into nothing.

Katharine allowed herself to look at his face only once, but he must have felt her eyes on him because he focused on her sharply.

She continued to hold the girlie magazines at arm’s length. “I found them in the linen closet, on the bookshelf, in the laundry room, and under the mattress. Do I need to continue to play hide-and-seek? Are there any more?”

Carson snatched them from her hand. “What were you doing looking there in the first place? To see what you could find to hold against me for not coming home last night?”

Katharine rolled her eyes. “What if the children had found those magazines?"

“I was careful about that.”

“You’re careful to conceal it the way a drug addict hides his stash or the alcoholic keeps a hidden bottle in case of an emergency.”

“Oh, come on. Give me a break.” His contrition was obviously dissipating.

Katharine evaluated the situation. “If you’re a sex addict, you need to get help to combat it.”

“Sex addict?” He snorted. “Can’t you hear how absurd that sounds?” He paused for a moment and then said more calmly, “I may sneak a peek every now and then, but these magazines aren’t just photo collections. They offer some good articles on world events and sporting news.”

She stood facing him with her arms folded and her jaws clenched.

“So now you think I’m some kind of pervert, huh?” he retorted, raising his brows.

“I don’t know what you are, anymore, Carson, but I do know you owe me an explanation for your whereabouts last night and for having that filth in my home!”

“I owe you nothing!” he responded sharply. He stormed out of the room and Katharine followed him only to find CJ and Bethany sitting at the top of the stairs. CJ held his stomach as if he were in pain and tears trickled down Bethany’s cheeks.