Part 11 (1/2)

”You're important to the company. You do most anything that needs to be done.”

”Judd does the same.”

”He can't be two places at once. When the computers come, he'll be in the office more. Once we have samples of what we've cut and polished, he may be traveling. We'll need you directing work at the quarries.” Hunter shot her a mirrored glance. ”Run that by the old man yet?”

”No. But it makes sense. Why else have you been Judd's right-hand man all this time, if not to take over when he's doing other things?”

”Beats me,” Hunter said, and walked on. The basketball game was under way. The court was little more than a paved rectangle with faded markings at center court and the free-throw lines. People were on either side, some sitting on lawn chairs, others standing. All were glued to the action. ”I take it this is an annual event?” Chelsea asked. Among the spectators she recognized Jeremiah Whip and his family and Fern. ”It kicks off the summer league. These teams ended one and two last year.”

Chelsea's eye homed in on one of the playershe had a key quality to him---even before she realized it was Judd. She hadn't known he would be playing, though she should have guessed it. He was 242 Me pa.s.sions Of chasea Kam tall and had an athletic build. It figured that his sport would be basketball. ”Judd's team's won for five years running,” Hunter said. ”This game, or the season?”

”Both. He hand-picks his men. He knows what he's doing.” She didn't hear any snideness, but then she wasn't listening as closely as she might have. The sight of Judd was distracting. If he was gorgeous in work clothes, and smas.h.i.+ng in the shorts and polo s.h.i.+rt he'd worn earlier that day, now he was pure dynamite. He wore gray basketball shorts and a navy tank top with a huge number one on the front. His teammates wore the same s.h.i.+rt, but it didn't look anywhere near as good on any of them. Judd's chest was broad, his arms well toned, his middle lean. The muscles of his legs were beautifully defined, all the more so as he dodged in and out with the play. He wasn't the tallest or largest man on the court, but there was something in his movements that set him apart. He had rhythm. He was breathtaking to watch. ”Fact is,” Hunter said, ”the old man doesn't know what to do with me.” It was a minute before Chelsea knew what he was talking about, and then she felt instant remorse. She doubted Hunter opened to many people and liked the idea that he was opening to her.

Pus.h.i.+ng Judd from her mind, she asked, ”What do you want him to do?”

”Let me go.”

”Fire you?”

”Yup.” She had expected him to say that he wanted a 243 Barbara Definsky promotion, or at the very least a t.i.tle.

Being fired was something else. It carried with it all kinds of negative implications and made getting another job that much harder. ”But why?”

Hunter remained still. His sungla.s.ses reflected the action on the court.

Judd's team was up twenty-five to nineteen, according to the hand-held cards on the sideline. The opposing team, whose orange tank tops had the number two on the front, was taking shot after shot. With each near miss and subsequent rebound, the team's fans groaned, then cheered. Chelsea followed Judd as he covered his man, weaving in, then out, then in again. He jumped high for the rebound that finally ended the other team's possession. Coming down on both feet with his hands in firm command of the ball, he took a second to see that his target was there, then fired the ball to the far end of the court. One of his teammates was waiting, caught it, executed an easy layup, and scored. The onlookers erupted in delight. Chelsea expressed her own pleasure in a satisfied sigh, then looked at Hunter. ”Why ever would you want to be fired?”

”It's the only way I'll ever be free.” She remembered her very first day in Norwich Notch and the brief conversation she'd had with him in the rain. He had quoted Oliver's opinion of him quite accurately. And he'd talked of guilt. By Chelsea's figuring, if guilt was involved, Hunter sihould have the upper hand in their relations.h.i.+p, which meant that freedom was his to choose. ”Why don't you just quit?” she asked.

Judd was fouled and sank two out of two. He was beginning to sweat, attractively so. ”Can't,” Hunter said. 244 The Faswons Of ciftqsea AMM ”Why not?” There was another swish, this one a three-pointer scored by team two. ”Because he owes me.” He'd said that once before, and Chelsea wasn't stupid. Given the fact that he had been conceived out of wedlock, that Oliver had seen to his welfare after his mother died, that Hunter had a place in the company that was totally unwarranted given Oliver's opinion of him, there seemed only one answer. ”Is he your father?” she asked. Hunter's eyes met hers, no doubt about it, reflectors and all.

”Now that's the question of the century,” he said flatly. ”Tell you what. You find the answer, you let me know, okay?” Turning, he strode back the way they'd come. She opened her mouth to call after him and .closed it without saying a word. She wanted to tell him that she understood, that she was looking for answers herself, that they had this in common. She also wanted to touch his arm and let him know that he wasn't as alone as he thought, but he hadn't liked it when she'd touched him before, and besides, he was gone. Another time, she thought.

Definitely. As the sun sank lower behind Acatuk Mountain, turning the sky an ever-darkening blue, gaslights installed for the occasion cast an amber glow from the bandstand to the surrounding green. The musicians were local, mixed in age, and enjoying themselves. Likewise the smiling couples who danced, changed partners, and danced on. Chelsea was content to watch. She wasn't a dancer, as anyone in her aerobics cla.s.s would 245 Mwwbj” Deunsay attest, but the people on the gra.s.s were enjoying themselves so, there was pleasure enough in the watching. The dance followed a dinner barbecue. Large grills on the flat end of the green had produced a continual flow of hamburgers and hot dogs, while long tables offered up buns, chips, an a.s.sortment of salads the likes of which Chelsea had never seen, relishes, and steaming ears of corn. The whole town was there, it seemed. Given that the barbecue and dance were the grand climax of the holiday, the air of festivity was heightened.

People had spruced themselves up accordingly. Chelsea, for one, had agonized. She wanted to impress people, which meant at the same time dressing up and dressing down. With an eye toward understated cla.s.s, she had finally paired a navy, halter-top dress with matching flats, caught her hair up on one side with a decorative clasp, put gold hoops in her ears, a wide gold band on her upper arm, and her mother's ruby ring on her finger. The ruby ring wasn't exactly understated, but she loved it.

In her eyes it wasn't the least bit gaudy, particularly since she wore nothing else on her hands. Some who saw it might think she was broadcasting her wealth, but the truth was that she felt a need to connect with Abby. The ring went a small way toward easing the loneliness that she'd felt through so much of the day. She touched it with her thumb now, savoring the warmth on the underside of the band. At the same time she looked up, through the dancing couples, toward the bandstand. Judd was there. It seemed he was always there when she looked up, perhaps causing her to do so. He was like a magnet, drawing 246 Ike FROWWO Of Owls” Awne her eye through even the smallest break in the crowd. She knew he saw her, since he looked back at her through those same tiny gaps. But she didn't approach him. If she found his maleness unsettling in the context of work, in the context of play it was downright intimidating. Averting her eyes, she looked from face to face, as she had through so much of the day, in search of familiar features.

There were many, but all on people she had seen before, which explained the familiarity. No one stood out. She felt no surge of familial recognition. Nor did anyone stare back at her in shock. Yes, people stared, but in that curious way. TM women stared at her hair or her dress. The men stared at her dress or her legs. The children, ironically, were the ones to stare at her ring,-and with envy. She suspected they thought it had come from a Cracker Jack box. It was a humbling notion. The music changed then. Fiddles appeared from out of nowhere. A penny whistle called to the crowd, which responded with shouts of appreciation. A man stepped to the microphone and sang out instructions while the dancers formed lines, men on one side, women on the other. ”Why don't you join them?” came a deep voice from the shadows. She felt a catch in her chest. With her eye on the dancers, she said, ”Heaven forbid. I wouldn't know what to do. The last time I square-danced was in fifth grade, and it was a disaster.”

”That's not square dancing,” Judd said. ”It's contradancing.”

”Ah.”

”Ever seen contradancing before?”

”No.” 247 Bwtnom Deunsaw ”It's interesting.”

Fast and confusing was more like it, Chelsea thought. After an organized start, the dancers seemed to have taken off from their lines, crossing over, crossing back, joining hands with their partners and, in a burst of color, twirling, switching partners and twirling again. The caller directed them, but his commands were foreign to Chelsea. ”Do they do this often?” she asked, slightly bewildered. ”Every other Friday night from September to May, downstairs in the church. For a while it was outlawed. Caused too much of a ruckus, the selectmen said. But it started up again. ', it isn't half as much fun on the gra.s.s. Can't hear the foot stomping here.”

”Do you do it?” After a pause he said, ”I have.”

”Why don't you go do it now?” She would love to see him dance. He had all the right moves on the basketball court; if he moved half as wellon the dance floor, he would be a treat to watch. ”Don't have a partner,” he answered, and the little catch in her chest came again. She would be his partner in a minute if she could dance. Then again, not for this kind of dancing. Partners didn't stay together long enough. Every woman danced with every man. That wasn't quite what she had in mind.

Besides, there wasn't enough touching in this kind of dancing. But it was fun to watch. The first dance ended, the second began, the beat slower, but not by much. She envied the dancers the good time they were having, but she wouldn't have moved to join them, even if she'd known their steps. There was 248 me Pa.s.sions of CAWsm Kane something nice about standing with Judd. In the shadows she could pretend that he was her partner and protector, his arm ready to go around her at the slightest provocation. Foolishness, Chelsea, she chided. All foolishness. Still, she liked being with him. And he wasn't walking away. ”That's some ring,” he said. She didn't know if it was a compliment or not. ”It was my mother's.”

”She's gone?”

”Uh-huh. Last January.”

”Was she old?”

”Sixty-three.”

”Not old.” He was silent for a minute. ”Was it sudden?”

”She had polio years ago. She was always frail, more so at the end.” He was silent for another minute. ”Did it happen at home?”

”Uh-huh. We had nurses round the clock.” He made a sound, a cross between a wince and a grunt, and when the silence fell this time, Chelsea sensed the discussion had ended. She didn't begrudge anything she'd said. She didn't mind Judd knowing about her. She wished she knew more about him. More to the point, she wondered about his love life.

There had to be one, she was sure of it. A man who oozed virility as he did wouldn't be alone for long. Chelsea had never seen him with anyone, but that didn't mean much. He was a private man. A very private man. So private that other than the fact that he lived on one of the small streets east of the green, she knew nothing about him but what 249 appeared on his r6sumit in the Plum Granite files. She could ask Donna about him, she supposed. But to ask would be to Imply she was ”interested” in him, and she wasn't. She just found him incredibly attractive. The contradance continued. Judd went for two gla.s.ses of punch and returned. The deep blue of the sky grew black, save the quarter moon that hung over the pines. Families with small children began heading home. The music slowed, first to more mellow line dancing, then to a polka, then to easy rock and roll, then to a waltz. ”Want to try this one?” Judd asked. She didn't dare. With a shy smile she shook her head. ”Why not?” She gave a nonchalant shrug. ”I'm not much of a dancer.” ”You're kidding.” She shook her head. He must have thought about that through the rest of the song, because at the very start of the next, a cha-cha this time, he said, ”How can a rich girl become a rich lady without learning how to dance?” She took no offense. His tone said none was intended. ”Oh, I learned how. I just don't do it well.”

With his eyes on those people who were doing it quite well, he said, ”I find that hard to believe. You run. You're athletic. How can you not dance?”

”Same way I can't sing. I'm tone deaf.” He looked at her then.

”But it's the beat that counts.” ”That was what Donna said when she convinced me to try aerobics. Believe. it or not, she hears the 250 Me Paswons of Chamm Kane beat better than I do.” The cha-cha gave way to a slower number. Couples came together. Chelsea watched with something close to longing. ”You're embarra.s.sed when you dance,” Judd surmised.

”Bingo.” Before she knew. what was happening, he took her hand and led her out of the shadows. ”What are you doing?” she asked in an alarmed whisper, and tried to pull back, but his hold didn't yield. ”You've never danced with the right man, that's all.”

”Judd,” she pleaded, again trying to stop him, but it quickly became clear that short of making a scene, she wouldn't succeed. With as much grace as possible, given that she was terrified on top of embarra.s.sed, she went into his arms in the small s.p.a.ce that he found. ”Relax,” he said, soft by her ear. She was going to have trouble doing that, she knew. Her cheeks were aflame, and the heat was spreading. ”I'm really not good at this.”

”Follow me. Move with me.' ”Easier said than done.”

”No. You don't even have to listen to the music. Just ease up against me ... There you go.” Chelsea wanted to die, if not of mortification, then of pleasure. Ease up against me. As though she had a choice in the matter. Her body gravitated toward his with a mind of its own, and he held her there so that where he swayed, she swayed, where he dipped, she dipped. His touch felt good, so good, the wrap of his arms like heaven. She was sure that 251 her heart was beating loudly enough to wake the dead in the Norwich Notch Cemetery, but if Judd noticed, he said nothing. He simply guided her around on their small patch of gra.s.s with such ease that when the music ended, she wanted to cry. ”There,” he said, only slowly releasing her hand. ”Was that so bad?” She was grateful for the dimness of the gaslights.

Otherwise he would have seen the need that was surely written all over her face. As it was, she had to make her voice sound natural, a major challenge given the shortness of her breath. She cleared her throat.

”Not so bad.” As an afterthought she said, ”Thank you,” then felt utterly foolish. She might as well have been ten years old and in dancing school again, curtsying to the boy who had just led her in an awkward box step. Much more and Judd would think her an imbecile. He stood there, just looking at her. She couldn't make out what he was thinking. When the music started again, this time with a muted trombone picking out the theme to ”A Summer Place,” she knew she couldn't wait around to find out. ”It's getting late,” she said. ”I think I'll head on home.” She gave him an uncertain smile, raised a hand in a short good-bye, and started off toward the shadows. ”Chelsea?” She pretended she didn't hear. Dancing with him had felt far too good. If only he'd been overbearing. If only he'd made fun of her dancing. If only he'd smelled But he had been gentle, nonjudgmental about her steps, and he did smell, but of clean things, things citrus and male. He caught her hand. ”Don't go,” he said quietly. 252 nm pa.s.sions Of Owkwa JLNW ”I have to.”

”One more dance.” She hesitated several seconds too long. He drew her to him, there in the dark, and began to move with the music that wafted softly over the green. He held her much as he had before, as though he wanted her near. For her it was like feeling the warmth of the sun after a long, long winter's night. She swayed with him, closing her eyes in an attempt to deny what she was doing, but the effort backfired.

Deprived of sight, everything she felt was heightened, from the firmness of his body, to the flow of his movements, to the heat that simmered wherever they touched. She sighed, releasing t1-last of her resistance with the breath. One of 1: arms found its way around his neck, the other hanwas guided to his thigh. His jaw lay against her temple, his breath warm, his fingers gentle at the small of her back, his legs strong by hers. She hadn't wanted it to be this way, but she could no more have separated herself from him at that moment than she could have shouted the facts of her birth to the town. As he moved to the music, he slid heragainst him, so subtly at first that she barely noticed through the excitement of all else she was feeling, then with greater conviction when tiny frictions made themselves known. She felt his heat and his strength and, in time, his arousal, and though the tiny voice of reason inside her said, Push him away, for G.o.d's sake, the tiny voice of need said, Ahhhh, he feels so good. For a man who worked with stone day in, day out, Judd Streeter was extraordinarily sensual. In following his lead, Chelsea became sensual, too. She 253 BArbara Denugw relaxed. She let go. She had never experienced anything as erotic in her life as dancing with Judd. Shortness of breath wasn't her only problem when they parted this time. Somewhere along the way she had developed a knot in her belly that wasn't supposed to be there. She was pregnant. Pregnant women didn't have the kind of urges she had just then. It wasn't right, she knew it wasn't. Her hormones were messed up. ”Have to go,” she whispered, and ran off into the dark. Some of the confusion she felt must have reached him, because he didn't follow this time. She retrieved her car and drove home, and by the time she arrived, the knot in her belly had eased. It wasn't completely gone-all she had to do was think of Judd and it tightened again-but at least there was hope. She spent a long time in the shower, letting the water stream through her hair and over her body to cool her heat. When she had toweled off, she wrapped herself in a short cotton robe, put on a low light in her bedroom and her reading gla.s.ses, and climbed into bed with the silver key and Yankee magazine, which she proceeded to flip through. It seemed the perfect publication in which to advertise the key. And it was time. She wanted to know who she was. It was time. Frustrated, she set the magazine, the key, and her gla.s.ses on the nightstand. Restless, she climbed out of bed. The frustration was due to the mystery' of who she was. The restlessness was due to Judd. Barefoot, she wandered quietly through the farmhouse. Everything smelled of sawdust and new wood, quite a switch from the first time she'd seen it, when things had been falling apart.

It would be 254 The rasgions of Chchmn mane another month before these rooms were finished enough for furniture, but that was fine. She enjoyed watching the process. She also liked having people around, even if those people were workmen who were as apt to give her one-word answers to ten questions in a row as they were simply to shrug. She sank down on the stairway in the front hall, wrapped her arms around her knees, and sat in the dark. She tried to think about the year to come, about the baby growing inside her, the designs waiting for her attention, the inquiries about granite that were coming, but none of those topics held her for long. Her mind wandered to Judd and how wonderful being in his arms had been. She felt a stirring inside. It wasn't the baby. She was appalled.

So she tried to think about Kevin and whether he was having fun in Michigan. She tried to think about what her friends in Baltimore were doing. She even tried to think about the Mahlers and the dismay they would feel if they'd known where she had been wearing her ring. Her mind returned to Judd. He had held her hand when they'd first danced. Later he had held everything, in a sense. She couldn't remember the last time she'd danced that way. She wasn't sure she ever had. It had almost been like making love. She sucked in a shaky breath and was just letting it out when a knock came at the door. She went very still. The knock came again. Silently she rose from the stairs, went to the door, and put a hand flat on the new wood. She remembered the voices she had heard on the telephone the night before and wondered if there was cause for fear.

Her heart thought so. It was beating a rapid tattoo. 255 Awwbara Oc.u.mAY ”Yes?” she called. ”It's me.” The voice was deep and as instantly recognizable as it had been in the dark on the green. She put her forehead to the door. Her heart kept beating its rapid tattoo, but for a different reason now. She had two choices, she knew. She could either run and hide and hope that he'd go away, or she could open the door and let him in. ”Chelsea?” She made a small sound, a sound of loneliness, wanting, desire. He knocked again, slowly this time and softly, as though he knew just where she stood. With an unsteady hand, she opened the door. She didn't say a word, simply stood back, nearly hidden, while he came in. Closing the door, she remained with her hand on the k.n.o.b, her back to him, and her head bowed. She waited for him to speak, but he was silent. That very silence was confirmation of why he had come. Her heart beat even faster and was joined by a quickening inside her. The knot in her belly tightened. He touched her hair so lightly that she might not have felt it if her senses hadn't been so keyed up. He took a step closer, eased the hair aside, touched the curve of her ear. She nearly died. She was still trying to catch her breath when he turned her around. He took her face in his hands and tipped it up. All she could see of his features in the dark was the deep gleam of his eyes, but she felt his heat, just as she had when they'd danced. The two hours that had pa.s.sed since might never have been. He kissed her then, stealing what little breath she had left. His mouth was as firm as his body, as sen- 256 ”M Fa.s.simm of cbefeen m4mc sual, as fluid, as male, and he tasted as good as he smelled. Her knees went weak. She clutched his s.h.i.+rt for support. When he finally raised his head, she was dazed. ”if I kiss you again,” he warned in a gritty voice, ”I won't stop there.” He watched her and waited. Chelsea knew that there were dozens of reasons why he should leave, but she couldn't think of a one just then. She wanted him to hold her, and make love to her, and do all the things she had been thinking about since the very first time she had seen himand if all that was wrong, then life was a cruel hoax, in which case her being selfish was the least of it. ”Kiss me again,” she whispered. The words were barely out before his head descended. He kissed her once, then again from a different angle, then a third time and more deeply. He ran his hands down her back to her bottom and drew her to him while he buried his face in her hair. ”What's under this?” he asked hoa.r.s.ely.