The Burning Point (26 page)

"Not to be rushed," she agreed. "Now get to work, or I won't feed you lunch."

Her brother laughed, and they went back to planting flowers. In later years Kate had occasional moments of wishing that her brother had been given an easier lot in life, but his sexuality had never once been an issue between them. He and his friends had been a godsend when she ran away to San Francisco, bruised in spirit and body. Their support had carried her through the worst time of her life. She wouldn't have changed her brother even if she could, because she loved him so much exactly the way he was.

But others had not been so tolerant.

∗ ∗ ∗

Kate realized that she was holding her stemmed wine glass like a weapon. Donovan had noticed, too. "You look like a mother cat ready to defend her kittens to the death," he said.

"Sorry. Tom doesn't need me to defend him."

"I've wondered...since Tom has lived in San Francisco for so many years. Is he...?"

"HIV positive? No, Tom's fine. But Mick, his 'long-time companion,' as the obituaries say, died three years ago." In the final terrible days, she had taken her turn at nursing, and had wept for days after the funeral. After the initial devastation, Tom had sublimated his grief by hospice work, offering his strength and compassion to others who were dying. "Mick was a great guy."

"I'm sorry," Donovan said. "For what it's worth, having to figure out how I felt about Tom helped later, when a friend of mine came out. Instead of freaking, I was able to say 'Big deal, let's go to the ball game.' He appreciated that."

"A pity you weren't so enlightened about Tom."

"I was a total idiot. Plus...there were other complications then, too."

That was true. "After mature consideration, how
do
you feel about Tom?"

"That he's a terrific guy who happens to prefer men to women," Donovan said. "I'd like to make amends to him for past behavior. Grovel a little, sackcloth and ashes, whatever."

"A good grovel will probably work. Tom isn't the sort to hold a grudge. I'll call and see if he's free. I'll call my partner as well. I really miss having Liz around."

She withdrew to her room, thinking that Donovan really had changed over the last ten years. For the better.

Chapter 23

"Welcome to Sa-a-an Fra-a-an-
cis
-co, Baghdad by the Bay!" Kate caroled, the wind whipping her hair as she accelerated the rental car onto the Bayshore Freeway. To her surprise, Donovan had tossed the car keys to her, saying this was her turf, so she could chauffeur him around. In the old days, he'd automatically taken the wheel when they were together, and she'd found a certain retro pleasure in letting him drive.

Her elation at being home again surprised her, considering that she hadn't been gone that long. As she drove north into the city, she decided it was because, as Donovan had said, she was on her turf. Not living in his house, not a neophyte learning the business from her ex-husband. In San Francisco, she was strong and in control.

"What are you grinning about?" Donovan asked.

"The fact that humans are as territorial as wolves, and this is my territory."

"Does this mean you get all hairy at the full moon?"

"Maybe." Realizing that she was almost flirting, she kept her attention on the freeway. It was one of the perfect days that sometimes came to the Bay Area in winter, when rains had washed the sky and the air was so brilliantly clear that it was possible to pick out individual buildings on the East Bay. A day to walk along Fisherman's Wharf like any tourist, and eat crab soup with hot sourdough bread.

Instead, they were going to the offices of PDI's prospective client to discuss a job. But after work--playtime, and a night in Kate's own house, courtesy of Jenny Gordon, who would stay with her parents for the night. Apart from the short visit she intended to pay Alec Gregory in the evening, it should be a fun day.

Donovan, who'd been gazing out over the bay, said, "It would be dead easy to bring down the Bay Bridge. Two hundred pounds of explosives, tops."

A little startled, she asked, "Do you always look at structures in terms of how you'd demolish them?"

"Always."

It wouldn't be long until she did the same.

∗ ∗ ∗

As Kate pulled away from the El Dorado Bank, Donovan loosened his tie. The site visit he and Kate and the bank's real estate manager had made to the structure slated for demolition had been straightforward, though at the meeting back at corporate headquarters they'd been unexpectedly joined by the company president. "I wonder why the CEO showed up for something so routine."

"He was drawn by the glamour of PDI, of course," Kate said. "You impressed him. You're going to get the job of taking down his old office tower."

"I hope you're right. It's hard to tell with corporate barracudas."

She pulled up at a light. On the street corner, a mime was entertaining a small group of entranced, or possibly baffled, tourists. "Trust me, the barracuda liked you."

His gaze dropped to the glimpse of knee visible where her long skirt fell open from a series of buttons that ran from hem to waist. She'd unfastened buttons to just above the knee to show off her elegantly booted legs. Remarkable how much more provocative that was than a mere short skirt. "You're the one who did the impressing. If you'd unfastened one more of those buttons, he'd have fallen into your lap."

"When dealing with barracudas, a woman's got to use every weapon she has. Why do you think I wore this skirt? It's gotten results before."

He laughed. "You're shameless. Here I thought that you conducted all your business meetings in a spirit of professionalism and low-key intelligence."

"Damn. I was hoping you wouldn't figure that out."

Relaxed by the bantering, he gazed out at the city. Kate had been a real asset at the meeting, even though Randolph had first assumed that she was Donovan's secretary or girlfriend, if not both. Her brains impressed the CEO almost as much as her hemline. If PDI got the job, Kate deserved a good share of the credit. Nick Corsi had made a pitch for the project, but even if he'd brought his wife to the meeting, Angie was no Kate.

∗ ∗ ∗

Donovan wasn't fond of having to face people he'd insulted, and Tom Corsi didn't make it particularly easy for him. His former brother-in-law was already seated at the Khyber Pass, the Afghan restaurant in Kate's old neighborhood where they'd arranged to meet for dinner. He got to his feet when Kate and Donovan came to the table. Tall and lean, he had his father's dark hair, and his mother's blue eyes. His face showed the decade had passed, and perhaps a few years more.

Tom had always been easygoing, but today his eyes were like flint. After hugging Kate, he said to Donovan, "It's been a long time."

"Too long. For years, I've wanted to apologize. When I should have been trying to help, I made things worse." Donovan offered his hand.

After a brief pause, Tom accepted the handshake. "Apology accepted."

It was a start. They sat down, Kate covering any awkwardness by launching into a colorful description of the Las Vegas shot.

A few minutes later Liz Chen came tearing in with apologies for being late. Petite and graceful with a mane of black hair, she was a perfect San Franciscan, her features suggesting a blend of Chinese and European. "So you're the infamous Donovan," Liz said. Her hand was small, but her shake no-nonsense.

"I don't think I want to know what that means." This was indeed Kate's turf; he had the distinct impression that pretty little Liz would rip his throat out if she thought he was giving Kate a hard time.

"Actually, what makes you infamous is that Kate said so little about you." Liz gave Tom an affectionate kiss, then took the seat opposite Donovan. "California is full of ex-spouses, and usually one hears entirely too much about them. Kate was so discreet that I was able to speculate endlessly."

"And Liz has a great imagination," Kate said.

Before Liz could voice any of her speculations the waiter came to ask for drink orders, and the conversation moved on. Though Tom said nothing to Donovan, Kate and Liz's easy chatter prevented that from being obvious.

Ease ended with the meal. As the waiter cleared the dishes, Tom said to Kate, "I know you and Liz are dying to talk shop, so I'll take Donovan for a walk. We can meet at your house in an hour or so for dessert and coffee."

Kate gave her brother a narrow-eyed glance. "Fine. I'll take back some Khyber Pass elephant ears. I warn you, though, if you spend too long exploring, there might not be any left when you get to my place."

After a brief tussle over the check, which Liz won by explaining that she'd learned so much about demolition that the meal was clearly deductible, Tom led Donovan outside. It was dark, and February in San Francisco was damp and bitingly chilly.

They walked a block in silence, cresting a hill. A splendor of lights gilded the undulating highs and lows of the city. Wondering if he should speak, Donovan glanced at Tom, whose profile was cool and reserved. No, leave the first move to Tom, who'd wanted this encounter.

At the bottom of the long hill, they passed a shabby Mission-style church, pale fog ribboning the bell tower. Tom asked, "Do you still go to mass?"

It was not what Donovan expected. "Not lately."

Tom turned toward the church's front door. "Then come in for a visit. Good for the body on a cold night. Benefit for the soul is optional."

"Is this your church?"

"No, I live a couple of miles away in another parish, but I drop in here regularly." Tom genuflected, then ambled up the left aisle. "I like churches. Any flavor will do. My idea of a vacation is going on retreat to a monastery in New Mexico."

In the dim light Donovan saw the Stations of the Cross painted in traditional Spanish style. Though different from the churches of his boyhood, he would have known it was Catholic with his eyes closed. Decades of incense and piety had saturated the wood and stucco. "How do you reconcile the Church's official attitude toward gays with your faith?"

"The Church is more than bricks and mortar and decrees. I accept its failings even if it won't accept me. Luckily, San Francisco has a number of parishes that welcome gays. One of many reasons for moving out here."

He halted at the rack of votive candles, where only a single, nearly exhausted, candle burned. After clunking a few coins into the metal box, he took a fresh candle and lighted it from the one that was guttering to its end. "For my father," he said softly. "With his rock-hard head and generous heart."

It had been years since Donovan had lit a candle for anyone. Now he was struck by the power of the symbolism. The triumph of light over darkness. Perhaps a purification by fire of complicated feelings.

He pulled a ten dollar bill from his wallet and folded it small enough to fit into the box. Then he took a short white candle and lit it from Tom's. "For Sam, who was maybe a better father to me than he was to you."

He lighted another candle for Mary Beth, his sweet little sister who had never had a chance to grow up. Another for his mother, whose deep religious faith had been unwavering despite the hardships she had endured. Then a candle for his own father, who had done bad things but had not always been a bad man.

Enough flames were burning to create perceptible warmth. On impulse, Donovan ignited one more. "For Mick."

Tom gave him a sharp look.

"Kate told me. I know how hard it is to lose a love, for whatever reason," Donovan said. "For what it's worth--I was never as upset by your...your orientation as I was by the effect it had on your father. Even since you came out, I've regretted that my desire to support Sam seemed like an attack on you. I've regretted it a lot."

"I figured that out, eventually. I was even glad that Sam had you, since he blew his relationships with me and Kate so badly." Tom lit another candle, placing it on the top row of the rack. "What do you want of Kate?"

They had reached the crux of this discussion. "What makes you think I want something?"

"No games, Donovan."

"Kate told you why she left me?"

Tom nodded. "As far as I know, she only ever told two people,"

"I want her to get over the damage I did to her. Then...I want her to fall in love with me again."

Tom showed no reaction. "Do you want
her
,
or that crazy-in-love feeling of being nineteen?"

"It's Kate herself I want," he said. "God knows I don't deserve her, but she moves me like no one else ever has. I...I would do anything for her."

"If you say so. What would she get out of a renewed relationship?"

A good question. "For what it's worth, I doubt that any other man will ever love her as much as I do."

"Is that why you hit her?"

The cool words were like a slap in the face. "The terrible truth is that the love and the violence were undoubtedly connected."

"Recognition is a step in the right direction, but sex and violence are a scary mix. Sometimes fatal." His troubled gaze moved over Donovan. "You should know that."

"I haven't forgotten for a single damned moment." He wondered if it made sense to light a candle for a dead marriage. Worth a try. As he touched the wick to a flame, he asked, "Are you going to tell Kate what I've said?"