Читать книгу Rachel's Hope - Carole Page Gift - Страница 9

It was late October, cold and storm-cloudy. David Webber gazed for a few moments into the dusky, smog-tinged dreariness outside his office window, then turned his attention back to his computer and the work at hand. The prints for the anti-icing design for the new regional jet had to be ready for the customer by 5:00 p.m. He fished through his desk drawer for paper clips, but as usual, couldn’t find anything when he wanted it. Rubber bands, pencils and erasers, scratch paper and marking pens. But no paper clips. Impatiently he slammed the desk drawer, saying something unintelligible under his breath.

David caught a glimpse of his scowling reflection in the expansive windows beyond his desk. He wasn’t one to think often about his looks, but when he did he had to admit to a modicum of conceit. Although nearing his mid-thirties, he had managed to maintain his athletic physique. It helped, of course, having good genes and being over six feet tall. Weekends of tennis and jogging under a hot California sun had tanned his skin a deep reddish brown, giving him a rugged, weather-beaten, even seafaring appearance. Rachel used to tell him with an admiring smile that he looked like one of those macho film stars—he could never keep up with the names. Come to think of it, it had been ages since she’d said anything like that.

These days it was Kit Kincaid, the engineering secretary, who fed his ego with effusive praise. She had even teasingly remarked that it must have been his double in that ubiquitous TV ad showing a smiling, virile, more-than-handsome workman chugalugging a diet soda while the office girls swooned with admiration. The comment had secretly pleased David. He was glad Kit considered him handsome—a man’s man and, yes, a woman’s man.

He looked back at his desk. Paperwork was strewn about like gigantic pieces of confetti. Before David could make sense of the chaos, Ralph Mercer, one of the draftsmen, came striding his way. “Webber, have you gone over the check prints of my drawing?”

“Which drawing?”

“Last Friday’s. The top assembly for the anti-ice system,” Ralph reminded him.

“Yeah, it’s here—somewhere.” He riffled through a mound of papers. “Yes, here it is.” He had merely set the Wellman test report on top of it. “Look, I’ll check the drawing once more and get it right back to you.”

The draftsman left abruptly, only slightly mollified.

David scanned the drawing, remembering now that everything was all right. If the draftsman had waited a minute, he could have taken the check print with him. Now David would have to deliver it personally. Irritated, he wrapped the check print around a roll of vellums for the Hiller job. Might as well deliver everything at once.

Casually he aimed his vision at Kit’s desk. With her curly, honey blond hair tousled around her ivorysmooth face, she looked younger than her twenty-five years. He’d never have guessed they’d become such close friends. Yet Kit had a certain mature, even worldly outlook that had impressed David from the start. She was easy to talk with and he always felt relaxed and more positive about life in her company. Once Rachel’s company had made him feel that way. But those days were long gone, he reflected sadly.

Kit was typing something, unaware of his gaze. With drawings in hand he headed for her desk. Paper clips were a good excuse—a reason to interrupt her work, talk to her, make her smile.

“Talk a minute?” he asked when she looked up, startled.

She smiled. “Okay, David. Sure.”

He lowered his voice a degree and assumed what he considered a tone of stern authority. “Miss Kincaid, you are the secretary to the engineering department, are you not?”

She studied him with a curious half smile. “You know I am.”

“Then you, my dear, are responsible for keeping us supplied with such indispensable items as paper clips, right?”

“Yes, I suppose so…”

“Now I must warn you, Miss Kincaid, if you forsake these small but important duties, you’ll only go on to greater negligence in the future.”

She stifled a laugh. “Come on, David. Are you out again? What do you do? Eat them?”

He winked. “Sure. It gives me an excuse to talk to you.”

Her voice softened. “Since when do you need an excuse, David?”

He inhaled sharply. “All right, young lady, give me six boxes now, or I’ll find your supply and pilfer the entire stock. Then where will you be?”

She leaned toward him and raised her face to his. “Right here, where I want to be. With you.”

She looked delightfully impish, as if there were many wonderful secrets locked in her head, which she would share only when she chose to, with whom she chose.

“Here are your paper clips,” she announced brightly, removing a small cardboard box from her desk. “Are you planning to make me a necklace?”

“Yeah, but not out of paper clips.” He fumbled with the drawings he forgot he was holding. “Say, Kit,” he added softly, making his voice sound as if they were still talking about paper clips. “Kit, how would you like to get a bite to eat after work?”

Her face showed surprise. “Tonight? Don’t you need to be home?”

Although they’d had lunch together a few times, David had never before asked to spend time with her after work. As he observed her reaction, he felt surprised himself at what he’d done and almost hoped she’d turn him down.

“I just phoned Brian a few minutes ago, and he said Rachel is out shopping. He doesn’t know when she’ll get back.” He thrummed his fingers on her desk. “So I told him I have to work late. I thought we’d at least have time to grab a sandwich. But if you’d rather not…”

“No, that’s all right. I’d like to. But I’ll have to call my roommate. She thought I’d be home. She was going to try something fancy for dinner. A soufflé or something. She won’t want to bother just for herself. I’ll just let her know I won’t be joining her.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t let you know sooner.”

“That’s okay. I’m just glad for the chance to be with you. You know that.”

“Yeah, me, too.” He glanced around guardedly. “Meet you in the parking lot, okay?”

“Sure.”

David delivered the check print and vellums, then returned to his desk and shuffled idly through the odds and ends of paperwork—government specifications, purchase orders and engineering estimate forms. He worked mindlessly with the paper clips, attaching them to the corners of papers, but his eyes—and his thoughts—remained on Kit across the room. Finally, to appear occupied, he scanned the current issue of Aviation Week.

After work, because their time together was so limited, David drove Kit to the nearby Hamburger House, where they took a back booth and ordered promptly. This place was perfect, only blocks from Kit’s apartment and halfway between work and David’s condo. It was a spot usually crowded at this hour with the after-five teenage traffic from the nearby junior college. It was a place where the two of them could be unnoticed, ignored, lost in the crowd.

As he sipped his cola, David watched several teenagers swaying to a rock tune, their limber bodies graceful as velvet sashes strung in the breeze. His son, Brian, was a teenager now. One day a child you could wrestle with and jounce in the air. One day a child, and the next…Now Brian was reaching into another world. Perhaps he would be swept up like all the other kids his age, forced to join and conform or to test and try the limits. Most likely, he would attempt to defy the established order of things. It was expected these days.

Still, it startled David to find himself massing his son with all the others—the rebels, the freaks, even the majority of good kids who still experimented with one thing or another. Morals were like that now. Everyone saw what he wanted to see, even David. He did what he pleased, stretched the limits and rearranged the boundaries. Brian would be no different—no better and no worse.

“Are you coming back soon?”

“What?”

Kit was sitting across from him in the booth, beaming, a peculiar half smile on her polished red lips. “I said, if you don’t come back soon from wherever you’ve wandered, I’m going to steal your dill pickle and carrot sticks.”

“Be my guest.”

“Where were you?”

“Thinking about Brian.”

“Is he in some kind of trouble?”

David grimaced. Not as much as I am. “No, not at all,” he said with a note of defensiveness. Why had he even mentioned Brian? Now he felt compelled to assure Kit everything was fine. “He loves eighth grade. He’s doing well. No complaints from anyone, as far as I know.”

“Well, then?”

David hated being put on the spot. “I was—I don’t know—just imagining him being like these kids. They’re a whole new breed.”

“And it’s hard to picture Brian being one of them, right?”

He shrugged. “He’s my son. I love him.”

“He’ll do okay. From what you’ve told me, he’s a great kid.”

“He is,” David agreed, shaking steak sauce on his sandwich.

“I wish I could meet him.”

David glanced up, startled. He felt his neck muscles tighten. “I wish you could, too, Kit. But it’s just not possible. You know that.”

Kit flushed. “David, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything. It was just an idle remark. I’m not trying to push you. Really, I’m not.”

“I know, Kit. I’m sorry. I get wound up sometimes and shoot off my big mouth.”

“But I know I don’t make things any easier for you.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s just the way things are.”

“For what it’s worth, David, I adapt easily,” she said. “If a friendship is it—just what we have now—fine. If more comes, that’s fine, too. If not, I understand. Do you know what I’m saying, David?”

“I know what you’re saying, Kit. And I know you understand. I guess that’s why I like being with you so much. But relationships aren’t static. They grow and change. They take on a life of their own,” he added, thinking about his own marriage as much as his friendship with Kit.

She traced a water ring with one long, polished nail. “Like you’ve said before, we’ll just take our time…and see what happens.”