The Damp, Gray Gone Ch. 02

"Okay, I'll bite. What's so wrong with that zucchini?"

She looked at me like I was hopeless. "It's crappy and grown with pesticides and insecticides and picked before it's ripe and ripened with gases and transported from God knows where and it's God knows how old. Get the picture?"

"Okay. And my alternative is?"

"Dude," Brandi chimed in. "Look around yourself. You're in the breadbasket of the Midwest. You drive down any road and within five miles you'll find farmstands all over the place. It'll be better and fresher and taste better and be better for you."

I looked from Brandi to Heather and back again. These girls seemed like clones with a passion for long, run on sentences.

"And fruit?"

"Melons are in season," Heather said, then flashed me a look that seemed to invite me to take a quick peek at her melons.

"Same farmstands?"

"Usually."

"And meat?"

Heather looked at Brandi and they nodded almost in unison. "Sure, you can buy your meat here. Not your bread, though. There's this bakery on Winsted Street? You know the one?"

I nodded. "Just went there yesterday for the first time."

They nodded knowingly. "That's your best bet."

"Come on," Heather said. "Follow us. We'll help."

"I'm pretty sure I can take it from here," I protested.

"Yeah. Right," Brandi snorted.

She rolled her eyes at Heather who rolled her eyes back in response.

So I spent the next half hour being guided around the grocery store buying almost nothing except milk, coffee, pasta, meat, and frozen vegetables (though only if those vegetables were out of season). And, strangely, it was fun. Heather and Brandi were a pair of chatterboxes, talking almost nonstop about classes, professors, boys, and the like.

Once through the checkout lane and into the parking lot, Heather turned to me.

"So you wanna follow us to some farmstands?"

I smiled. "No thanks. I'm pretty sure I can take it from here. And this time I mean it."

Heather batted her eyes at me. "What's wrong, Professor? Afraid of being left alone with the two of us for too long?"

"Yeah, Professor," Brandi joined in, putting an arm around Heather's waist and pulling her hip in close. "Don't think you can handle it?"

I felt the blood rush to my head, both in embarrassment and in sudden arousal. I tried to stammer, and they both started giggling.

"Okay then," Heather said, flashing a grin that offered promises of things I'd only heard about, "but if you change your mind, you've got my e-mail."

I barely managed a wave.

An hour later, now fully loaded up with fresh bread and croissants and some vegetables from a farm stand two miles out of town, I was back in my kitchen unloading my morning's haul. There were no messages, and I was more than a bit disappointed.

The phone finally rang, though, when I finished putting the groceries away.

"I was wondering when you would call," I answered.

There was silence, then Whitney spoke. "Oh. You were . . . uh . . . expecting someone?"

I deflated. "Yeah, sorta. What's up, Whit?"

"I was wondering if I could bring Kyle back today instead of tomorrow like we'd planned."

"Something wrong?"

She hesitated, then answered. "Well, he's pretty bored. And he misses his puppy, too. And . . . well . . . I've got a pretty big trial starting on Tuesday, and I'm thinking of getting an early start on final trial prep."

I thought about it for a moment, wondering if this would screw up any potential plans Kristin may offer.

"Luke?"

"Sorry," I said. "When're you thinkin' of bringing him back?"

"Now?"

I looked up. It wasn't even eleven yet. "Sure, that's fine. Whenever. I'll be here."

"Thanks, Luke," she said. Then, after a slight pause, she added, "I hope I'm not messing up something for you."

"I'll deal with it," I said.

"Sorry."

"See you soon."

I hung up. No good bye, no I love you. Just hung up.

* * * * *

Kristin called just after Whitney dropped Kyle off. He was in the back yard, playing with Sonny, when the phone rang.

"Hello."

"Morning, Luke," Kristin said.

"Good morning to you."

"So do you have any plans for today?"

I sighed. "Whitney just brought Kyle back. A day early."

She laughed. "Welcome to it. Might as well get used to it now."

"This happens to you a lot?"

"No," she said. "Not a lot. Sometimes, though. And sometimes it goes the other way. Sometimes I use Tyler as a babysitter if I have a hot date or something."

I pondered this, wondering how often she had hot dates.

"You there?" she asked.

"Yeah, still here."

"Well, do you still wanna get out of the house today?"

"You got something in mind?"

"I do, actually," she said. "Think you can handle being around my ex-husband and his new wife?"

"Say again?"

She laughed. "Tyler's invited me out to his house for a cook out. A Labor Day party. I mentioned I might be bringing a date, and he said fine."

"Yeah," I said, "but Kyle--"

"Is welcome to come along. Ben will be there--along with at least a dozen other kids--and Tyler's got a pool they can play in."

"And you won't be uncomfortable?"

"No," she answered. "This doesn't happen often, but it happens often enough that everyone's pretty comfortable with the situation. I mean, we're not all best buds or anything, but we get along and put up that front for Ben. And we still have a ton of mutual friends, so it's not really all that uncomfortable anymore."

I looked out at Kyle, realized Sonny was already tiring and needed a nap, and figured I had nothing better on my platter. Okay, that and I wanted to see Kristin in a swimsuit.

"So do I bring swim trunks?"

She laughed. "If you wanna swim."

"You bringing a swimsuit?"

"I guess you'll just have to come along and find out, won't you?"

* * * * *

An hour later, swim trunks and towels for Kyle and I in a duffle bag, we picked up Kristin in front of a small, neat house with perfectly maintained landscaping and a flawless lawn.

She opened the door before I could ring the doorbell.

"Come in for a sec," she said. "You can help me carry the beans and some stuff."

"Was I supposed to bring something?" I asked, following her through a neat and homey living room into a tiny, galley-style kitchen. She was dressed in shorts and a sleeveless, button-up blouse, and I appreciated the view of her smooth, toned legs and extremely nice posterior flexing beneath her shorts.

"Not really," she said, unplugging a crock pot on the counter and nodding for me to take it. "If you want, we'll stop on the way out and you can get a case of beer or pop or something."

"Fair enough," I agreed.

She scooped up a duffle bag of her own and her purse and turned. "Sorry, but there's no time for a tour now. Maybe next time?"

"Sure," I said, looking around one last time before following her out. "It's nice, though."

"Yeah," she agreed. "Cozy. And not too much."

"Who does your landscaping?" I asked as she opened the back door to my car and she and Kyle exchanged greetings.

"No one," she said, putting her things down on the back seat before taking the crock pot from my hands and putting it on the floor before turning to me. "I do it all myself. Keeps me busy when Ben's with his dad."

"It's real nice," I said, opening her door.

"Thanks," she said with a bright smile, sliding into the seat and buckling her seat belt.

* * * * *

An hour later, I'd met most of the twenty or so adults at the party. Tyler Collins and his wife Marisa--she was an up and coming science fiction author, I was told--were pleasant and easy to talk with. Their home was pretty, but not too large or in any way ostentatious, and it sat well off the road on a five-acre parcel surrounded by hundred-year old oak trees.

"And you were in the Army?" Tyler said.

I nodded. "Got out in ninety-two."

"What did you do?" Marisa asked. She was pretty in a tall, gangly sort of way, and her smile was easy, but sly and half-hidden. Also, she didn't seem to speak much, but when she did it was direct and to the point.

"Infantry," I said. "Platoon leader."

She nodded, and Kristin spoke up.

"Kyle told the class he's some kind of war hero."

Tyler raised an eyebrow at that. "War hero?"

"Forgot to duck," I answered.

"That Kuwait and Iraq thing? Desert Storm?"

"That's the one," I confirmed. "Gulf War."

"Did you see battle?" Marisa asked.

I hesitated, then nodded.

"And you did something heroic?"

"No more than I was supposed to do."

Marisa's sly smile returned, and she fixed me with a stare. "Are we going to have to torture you to get the story out of you?"

I felt their stares and knew they wanted me to tell them some John Wayne tale of valor and honor and all that other bullshit. But I knew they wouldn't understand. None of them had been there, and you had to have been there.

Marisa sensed my hesitation, though, and let me off the hook. "You could learn something, Tyler," she said, still looking at me.

"And what's that, dear?"

"Mystery is a good thing."

"But I write mysteries."

"I mean in a person," she said. "Sometimes it's best to keep certain things to yourself."

He laughed. "And I'm what? An open book?"

I watched them, worried about a potential flare up. But her sly smile was now turned on him, and coupled with a softness in her eyes that showed she loved him just the way he was. And his confidence in receiving that look--in knowing her devotion to him--was also visible in his easy stroking of her arm.

"Not in you, Tyler. In your characters. Hold some things back. Let the readers wonder what the secrets are, and don't spill them all at the end."

He nodded at this, looking from Marisa to Kristin to me. Then his grin nearly split his face. "My harshest critic."

"So," Kristin said in the lull, "anyone going into the pool?"

"Are you?" Marisa asked me.

When I hesitated, Kristin flashed me a devilish grin. "I'm only going in if you're going in."

I looked at Tyler and Marisa, both of whom had lopsided grins on their faces, then back to Kristin. I really did want to see her in that swimsuit, I decided, and--assuming we were going to become at least friends--I was only putting off the inevitable.

"Where do I change?" I asked.

"Follow me," Kristin replied, taking my hand and smiling.

"If you're not out in five minutes," Tyler said, grinning and raising his eyebrows.

"He wishes," Kristin snorted back at Tyler. "He can use Ben's room. I'll use the hallway bathroom."

"Spoilsport," Marisa chided.

Five minutes later, towel wrapped around my waist, I walked back to the rear lawn of the house.

"You have the whitest legs I've ever seen," Kristin said.

"Like a ghost," someone next to Tyler said.

"Why the towel?" Marisa asked. "You wearing Speedos or something?"

I looked from her to Kristin to the others, then took the towel away from my waist.

They tried not to gasp or look shocked, but none of them managed to totally control their surprise.

"Like I said," I explained, looking down at my the jagged lines of scar tissue rising above the suit from my right hip and going down nearly to the knee of my right leg, "I forgot to duck."

Kristin drew near and reached out, her fingertips tracing the angry, knotted lines of scarring above my waist band.

"I'd rather you didn't do that just now," I said softly. "Something's liable to pop up in a most embarrassing manner."

The tension broke and everyone laughed. Then Tyler offered to let us go back in and take some more time changing if that was going to be the case while others just suggested a corner of the pool away from the children. And though Kristin seemed to take it all in stride, I was beginning to blush.

"Oh look," Tyler laughed. "Looks like someone's got a crush on someone."

"Tyler," Marisa warned, shooting him a glance.

"Sorry," he said, still chuckling. "Go on, you two. Keep an eye on the kids for awhile and we'll start grilling."

"Sure you don't want some help?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Positive. Just go have some fun."

* * * * *

After a half hour in the pool, mostly spent avoiding getting splashed, dunked, or otherwise jumped on by a dozen kids of all ages, Karen and I were sitting on the concrete slab with our feet dangling in the water.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, her eyes on the kids.

"No. The warm water makes it feel pretty good, actually."

"Is that why Kyle says you're a war hero?"

"No," I said, turning to look at her. Granted, it was only a one-piece suit, but she did a nice job of filling it out. "His mom told him that. The first time he saw the scars, he wanted to know what it was. That's what she told him."

"Does he know what it's from?"

"He knows as much as you."

"Does anyone else? I mean, besides Whitney, of course, and probably your folks and whoever was there when it happened."

"Nope. You've about covered it. Except I never told my folks."

Understanding now how quiet I kept the matter, she was tentative with her next questions.

"So are you?"

"Am I what?"

"A hero?"

"Tough to define, don't you think?"

She turned and fixed me with a stare. "Did the Army define it that way?"

I stared back, then nodded. "Yeah. I got my medal for it. Medals, if you count the Purple Heart."

"Which one did you get?"

"Silver Star."

"Is that a biggie?"

I shrugged. "Sure. Third highest one they give out."

She gave me a smile and a raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"So I guess you really are a hero then, huh?"

I chuckled. "No. Like I said, just too damned stupid to get the hell down."

I watched her face move closer, and I froze, my eyes getting wide.

She kissed me. Not a smoldering kiss; not really even a romantic kiss. Just a light brushing of her lips against mine. Whatever you call it, though, it was electric, and it was over before I could kiss her back.

Then reality hit, and I looked around. No one else had seen it, including Kyle.

"Don't worry," she whispered. "He wasn't looking."

I smiled, glad she understood and didn't mistake my reaction for rejection.

"Always wanted to kiss a hero, Luke Patterson," she said.

I felt the giddiness in my belly, a lightness that hadn't been there in a long time.

"That all you ever wanted to try with a hero?" The words were out of my mouth before I could check them.

Her grin got downright flirtatious at that. "Maybe if it's the right hero. You know, not just any old hero."

"So there are a lot of those around here to pick from? Heroes, that is?"

She laughed. "Good point."

* * * * *

By six-thirty, I was beginning to worry about little Sun Tzu. Sure, he'd sleep twenty hours a day when Kyle wasn't around, but he still needed to eat. Add to that a belly full of chicken, coleslaw, beans, and potato salad, and I was also ready to just crash and relax.

"But Dad," Kyle protested, "Ben wants me to spend the night."

I looked at Kristin, who shrugged.

Just then, Marisa came over. "Sorry," she said. "Ben asked a couple of hours ago. And it's okay with us if it's okay with you."

I looked from her to Kyle, then to little Ben standing impatiently and expectantly ten feet back, then back to Marisa. Okay, I didn't know them from Adam, but how dangerous can two authors really be?

"You're sure it's not a problem?"

She smiled. "Really. Ben wants him to stay, and we've got plenty of room."

"What time should I pick him up tomorrow?" I asked, at which time Kyle gave a whoop of joy and Ben pumped his fist.

Kristin chuckled, and Marisa grinned. "We'll drop him off at your place. Probably at about noon."

"Thanks," I said, which she waved off before giving me a hug and thanking me for coming.

I took five minutes to lecture Kyle on manners, being on his best behavior, and all the other crap my parents always lectured me about when staying at someone's house for the first time. He spent those five minutes rolling his eyes and waiting for me to finish so he could get back in the pool.

Most of the drive back to town was spent in a comfortable silence. It became a lot more comfortable when Kristin grabbed my free hand and put it on top of her thigh down near the knee. I shot her a look, but she was just staring straight ahead with a smile playing at her lips.

"So you wanna get a drink somewhere before you drop me off?" she asked.

"Sounds nice," I replied. "Can I drop by the house and feed Sonny first? And let him out of his cage for a few minutes?"

"Sure."

Five minutes later, Sonny was out of the cage and scampering around the backyard, sniffing every blade of grass before lifting his leg and claiming it as his domain.

"Got a beer?" Kristin asked from beside me on the deck.

"Sure," I said, going to the fridge and grabbing a couple of bottles of Amstel Light, popping the caps, and returning.

"One ice cold beer for the lovely lady," I said.

She took a long pull from the beer.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

"Just getting my courage up," she said.

"For what?"

She took another long pull from the beer, then gave a tiny burp and giggled. "Sorry."

I snickered, then took a long pull from my own beer.

"You need some courage, too?" she asked.

"I don't know yet. I just figured if you needed some, then maybe I'd better get some, too."

"Oh really?"

"Really."

"Then let's see if either of us needed the liquid courage," she said, putting her beer bottle on the railing. She turned to face me, then shot a look at my beer bottle.

"Does this mean that. . . ." I said, my eyes on her while I put my beer bottle down.

She nodded, then stepped close, leaned in, and kissed me. No slight brushing of the lips this time. Oh no, this was the real thing. Gentle kiss with light pressure moving to a little more pressure and a slight parting of the lips. Then her tongue was out, tracing my lips until my tongue joined the duel. Her hands were softly running through my hair, and I put my arms around her, hands on her back, and enjoyed the moment.

Then, after maybe a minute, she broke the kiss and looked at me.

"Thanks."

"I think that should be the other way around," I murmured.

"It was nice."

"It was amazing."

She smiled, a happy smile, not the lascivious one. That told me she'd gone as far as she intended to for the time being.

"So did I pass the test?" I asked.

She searched my face to see if there was any hidden meaning in my words, which there wasn't, then gave me a peck on the cheek.

"It's not an audition," she said. "It's something I've wanted to do since last week."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because I didn't know if I liked you enough. Remember what I said?"

I nodded. "We've got children now. No sense in rushing into something that may only hurt them."

She nodded, relieved at my understanding. "So I'm sorry if you want more now, but I just can't take that chance. Sleeping together too soon just complicates things. Makes people . . . . I don't know. It just changes things."

"It makes them possessive," I said. "And too appreciative too early, I guess."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning if we slept together too soon, then you'd definitely become the rebound, which is not something either of us wants."

She thought about that and her lips narrowed, her eyes staring off to the side.

"Did I say something wrong?"

She turned to me and smiled. "No, Luke. Not a damned thing."

The smile looked forced, though, and I took a stab at her sudden anxiety.

"You know," I whispered, "just being the first one after my divorce doesn't mean you'll ever be a rebound. If we play this right--and assuming we don't hate each other in a few months--there's no reason we can't become best friends before we become more. And if that's in the cards, then so be it. If it's not, though, it'll have nothing to do with you being rebound or anything."

Her eyes sparkled with teardrops, but her smile told me I'd said just the right thing.