Читать книгу A Place to Be - Nancy Degenhardt - Страница 4

"Which way are we going?" she asked.

"The most direct route," he answered. "Down the Northway through the Adirondack Mountains and on to the Jersey Pike."

They finally pulled into a hotel for the night south of Washington. Tired and sleepy, they both went to bed and quickly dropped off to sleep.

Two hours later, Kate jerked awake. Rod was screaming and flailing the air with his arms, "Fire, on the left -- look out -- pull back!"

Recognizing what she called the Nam syndrome, she hurriedly climbed into the other bed and pretended to be asleep. She had heard too many horror stories about what vets had done to their sleeping companions while dreaming of being in Vietnam. The dream woke him up. He noticed her asleep in the other bed, as he went to the bathroom to wipe the sweat off his face, poured himself a drink of water, and returned to bed.

The next morning he apologized for having frightened her. He told her that nightmares seem to be his reward for having fought in Nam. They continued their journey. With a reporter's curiosity, she asked him about posttraumatic stress among Nam vets.

Glancing toward her with a kind of painful expression, he explained, "I think it's because this war was part of the sixties." She noticed that his knuckles were tightening their grip on the steering wheel. "Vietnam was like no other war," he continued. "The country was being pulled in every direction -- war protesters, the love generation, riots, and perhaps the biggest factor of all, drugs. How could you fight a war when so many of the men were high?"

Trying to change the subject, she quickly said, "I've told you about my childhood, but you haven't told me a thing about yours."

He turned to her and grinned, relaxing his grip on the wheel, "I grew up in a small town on the Ohio River. My childhood lay somewhere between Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer. I had many narrow escapes on that river."

"And then what?" she asked.

"Well," he said, with a serious expression, "college was not part of my parents' dream. After graduating from high school at seventeen, I was told to get a job in the local mill. I joined the Army instead, was recruited into the Special Forces, and sent to Nam. But enough about me." He reached for her left hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it. "Kate, do you believe in fate?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think you and I were fated to meet." he replied. They rode on in silence, smiling at each other now and then.

They picked up some food at a fast-food restaurant and kept driving. At last they exited I-95 and found the St. Simons Causeway. They had called ahead to Kate's grandmother, who had said she would alert the building security and wait up for them. Kate introduced them. The sandy-haired, muscular, forty-six-year-old shook hands with a statuesque, eighty-year-old female wearing her thick gray hair in a short bob.

"I now know where Kate's good looks and her beautiful name come from," exclaimed Rod.

Kathryn smiled and said, "Compliments entitle you to a drink, young man. What would you like?"

"Please, a gin and tonic, ma'am," answered Rod.

Going to the closet bar off her living room, with its walls painted a soft yellow, Kathryn made drinks for the three of them, but after a few sips on hers, she told them she was going to bed, and they could work out their own sleeping arrangements.

It was a warm night with a full moon; and although tired, Kate and Rod stood on her grandmother's balcony, gazing at the sparkling ocean. Rod told her he had never in his whole life felt for anyone the way he felt about her. He wanted it to never end. He gathered her in his arms, kissing her lips, and the hollow of her neck. After unbuttoning her blouse and opening it up, he kissed her shoulders. Kate took him by the hand and led him to the room her grandmother maintained for her. Kate moved around so much her grandmother's condo was her permanent address, even though she wasn't there too often. He gave her an inquiring look. But Kate only smiled and started unbuttoning his shirt.

* * *

By the time the women had risen, Rod had washed their drink glasses from last night and had found the coffeepot and made coffee. Kathryn told him if he would promise to do that each morning he could stay forever, but next time he could put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

Rod did just that for his entire stay. He always insisted upon loading the dishwasher and washing the dishes. Even though Kate had fallen hopelessly in love, her reporter brain kept trying to tell her that was odd. Maybe his mother had trained him.

They spent much of the day together walking on the beach and playing in the surf. She was afraid to ask him when he had to leave.

By late afternoon they returned indoors to take showers and recoup. Rod said to Kathryn and Kate. "I remember years ago stopping by a restaurant on St. Simons called Veronica's Courtyard. I really liked it. Does it still exist?" They both answered that it did. "Good. I would like to take you there for dinner."

While they went to change clothes, Kathryn called and made reservations.

Rod went into the bathroom first. Standing in front of her opened closet looking for something to wear, Kate glanced down at Rod's suitcase sitting on the floor to the right of the closet. He had left the lid up. Partially sticking out from underneath some shirts was a gun and holster. Why would he have a gun? Whom had she so unknowingly given her heart to? A bad feeling was developing in the pit of her stomach, and she knew she would have to confront him.

Veronica's Courtyard proved to be as enjoyable as ever. They inhaled the food, along with the live music. After dinner Rod told them. "I have to leave tonight." Heavy silence filled the car as they drove back to the condo.

"Thanks for a lovely evening, but it's my bedtime," announced Kathryn. "I hope I'll see you again, Rod." She then excused herself.

Rod and Kate walked out on the balcony and stood side by side, watching the waves rolling in. It had turned into a cool southern winter night with a soft breeze floating around them. "I hate leaving you, Kate," Rod said tenderly, putting his arm around her. "I'd like to wake up each morning the rest of my life and see you."

Backing up and turning to face him, she asked, "Then why do you have to go?"

"I have to that's all. I have no other choice," he said and moved toward her, trying to close the gap between them.

"Why do you carry a gun?" she blurted out, backing up farther.

"Why were you snooping in my suitcase?" he asked, feigning annoyance.

"The gun was in plain sight. You left the bag open," she snapped, raising her voice and starting to tremble.

"I carry a gun for protection because I travel so much. Lots of people do," he said, quickly moving toward her and putting his arms around her. "As I told you earlier, I've never felt this way before. Please trust me, Kate. Here's a phone number you can call to get in touch with me. I'll call you in one week." After kissing her fervently, he turned and walked back inside.

With one of her grandmother's shawls wrapped around her, she remained on the balcony, sitting in a deck chair and staring at the moonlit ocean. A couple of hours later, she went to bed alone.

The next morning over breakfast, Kate said, "Grandmother, we need to talk. I'm sorry I ran after the funeral, but I couldn't face Tom's death. I buried myself in my job instead. I wouldn't even let myself cry at his funeral. I'm so ashamed." Tears flowed down her face and wrenching sobs forced themselves out of her throat.

Kathryn cried too. "It' s okay, Kate. We have always been too stoical in this family." They reached out for each other, and held on while they cried. Afterwards, Kate told her grandmother that she wanted to take some time off from work and stay with her.

One week later Rod called. He told her that while driving he had listened to Lionel Richie sing "Deep River Woman" over and over. He conveyed to her that he had been able to tell her things he had never been able to tell anyone, and he was missing her more than he had thought possible. "I love you and I'll call you in a week."

Having missed him dreadfully, she said that she loved him too.

* * *

Another week passed, but this time Kate did not receive a call. She waited one more week but still no call came. Using her aunt's kitchen wall phone, she punched in the number Rod had given her. A man answered. She told him she was a close friend of Rod's, and he had given her this number. The man said Rod was his friend and client, for he was his stockbroker. He also said he had not heard from him in a couple of months; but when he did, he would give him her message. Feeling queasy and short of breath, she had to sit down at the glass and metal breakfast table. For the first time in her life she was wholeheartedly in love and it felt awful.

Slowly mustering her courage, she thought, Two can play this game. She called an editor friend who worked for one of the wire services.

“Kate, what a surprise, I was beginning to wonder when you were going to call,” answered Bob, a veteran newspaperman who was overweight and bald except for a fringe of hair around his ears.

“I guess I’ve lost track of time,” she replied, carrying the cordless phone out on the balcony and sitting in one of the chairs.

“That’s okay. Seriously, I figured you would take some time off because of your brother. But I’m glad you called, for I do have something to tell you. The talk around Washington is that the government has some big operation in the war against drugs underway,” Bob said, shooing away his secretary who had walked into his office.

Her curiosity aroused, Kate asked, “Whom are they targeting?”

“I don’t know anything specific, but I know you have good sources to consult,” Bob replied.

“Okay, thanks, I’ll see what I can find out and get back to you,” she said and hung up. She had wanted to bring up Rod’s name but couldn’t. She remained seated in the chair, holding the phone.

She had fallen in love with a man she hardly knew. She didn’t know what he did for a living. Business is what he said, but what kind of business? He had said he grew up in a little town on the Ohio River and had been in the Special Forces in Vietnam, but when and where exactly? He had never made any phone calls around her, except to call room service. Also, he had insisted upon washing every dish he had touched. The one time he had called her, he had not told her where he was. All the labels had been cut out of his clothes, and then there was that gun. He could be some kind of assassin for hire for all she knew. Yet from somewhere inside, her intuition was trying to tell her she would hear from him again.

Kate remained at St. Simon’s alone. She had taken her grandmother to Athens to visit her friend Betty, who lived in a retirement home. Her reporter instincts kept telling her to investigate Rod, but her heart was telling her to be patient and wait.

* * *

The following night around ten o'clock, she was sitting on Kathryn’s flowery chintz sofa underneath a Tiffany floor lamp, trying to read a book when the doorbell rang. She opened the door, and there was Rod, looking tired but okay.

In one stride he was inside the room and holding her in his arms. "Wow, I've missed you," he said, picking her up and swinging her around over the pale blue carpet.

After he put her down, she screamed, "It's been weeks, and I haven't heard a word from you! I didn't know if I would ever hear from you. Do you know how that makes me feel?"

"Kate, I'm sorry. It couldn't be helped. I've been in some heavy-duty shit. Luckily, it doesn't in anyway involve you or what we have. Have you ever thought about settling down? We both need to stop this globe-trotting nonsense. I'm getting too old for it, and I thought well, maybe you would want to have a child," exclaimed Rod all in one breath.

Bewildered, Kate dropped to the sofa. "Are you asking me to marry you?" She asked hoarsely.

"Yes, I'm being clumsy about it, but I definitely am." He knelt on one knee before her and took her hands into his. "I'm going to retire and do something different that doesn't include traveling. Neither one of us has a place to be, and it's about time we did," Rod declared.

Transfixed by the dark blue pools of his eyes, with her body feeling like lead, she pulled herself up, moved a few steps away, and turned to face him. "Before I answer, I would like to know what kind of business are you in."

Rod stood up and took a step toward her. "I can't tell you that, you'll have to trust me, trust our love. I have to see this project through to the end, but after that I'm free." His voice betrayed his longings.

Backed against her grandmother's prized Chinese breakfront, Kate asked in despair, "How can I give you an answer?"

"Don't give me an answer now. Think about it," Rod said lovingly. "All I know is that tonight I had to be with you." He then picked her up and carried her into her bedroom.

They undressed each other and climbed into her antique bed. In spite of her doubts, he made her feel as if she was already his. He told her he felt that he belonged somewhere for the first time in his life.

After replenishing their love, they fell asleep. A piercing ringing woke them at 4:00 a.m. She reached for the phone on the nightstand and after a moment spoke into the receiver, "Yes, he's here," and handed the cordless phone to Rod.

After Rod hung up, he told her gently that he had to leave. He also told her not to worry he would return. "I can't sit here and wait," she responded. "I'm returning to work."

"I understand," he said. "But please keep Kathryn informed of your whereabouts." Kate promised she would, but she did not tell him about the story she was going to chase.

While he showered and dressed, she went to the kitchen and made him coffee. She brought the mug of coffee to him on a small tray. He drank it quickly and then kissed her good-bye. "Don't worry. I love you," he said, going out the door.

* * *

She climbed back into bed and fell asleep, with her arms around his pillow. At nine o'clock she awoke, slipped into her blue silk bathrobe, and made her way to the kitchen. The sunshine was streaming through the sliding glass doors that opened to the balcony. As she was pouring coffee and water into the automatic drip coffee maker, she mulled over what Rod had told her. He had asked her to marry him. She knew she loved him.

"I wish he didn't have to be so secretive," she said out loud, knowing she had made up her mind about something. She rummaged through one of the cabinet drawers until she found a new pair of plastic gloves. Next she located a box of plastic bags and took one. Returning to her bedroom, she put on one of the gloves, picked up the coffee mug Rod had used, and dropped it into the plastic bag. She knew what to do because she had observed forensic evidence being gathered countless times at crime scenes. She opened one of the drawers to her dresser and dropped it in. It'll be safe there for the time being.

Going back to the kitchen, she poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down on a stool at Kathryn's counter table. "Well, I said I was going to work and I am."

Using her computer addresses, she punched up Guy's phone number. He was a pilot who ran a charter service out of Jacksonville and who also kept his mouth and ears closed and accepted his payments in cash. From time to time he had passed along information to Kate because he knew she would protect her sources. They arranged to meet at Crabber's on Fernandina Beach, for Guy didn't want to be seen around Jacksonville with her. He added he needed to collect a debt on the island anyhow.

Kate drove her grandmother's dark blue Eldorado Coup out of the ground floor garage area. Although she seldom drove, Kathryn kept the car maintained and licensed, mostly for her to have to drive during her visits. Compared to the newer, smaller cars, driving the car was like handling a semi.

"Well, beggars can't be choosy," she said, chuckling.

By the time she arrived, he was waiting out front, wearing khaki pants and a faded blue denim shirt. The ends of his longish blond hair stuck out from underneath his baseball cap. He looked older than his thirty-six years.

Being known as a great place for seafood, the casual restaurant overlooking the ocean was crowded as usual. But they managed to find a vacant picnic style table.

"Kate, there’s something big going on," he whispered. "Everyone is as nervous as a fox in a hen house."

"The people you shuttle are always nervous," Kate replied. "Let's order." She ordered crab cakes, and he ordered boiled shrimp. They both ordered cokes.

"No, not like they are now. They're really watching their backs so to speak. They're second guessing themselves and triple-checking everything." Guy paused as the waitress served their food in paper lined plastic baskets. He then continued speaking. "They're even more tight-lipped than usual."

Munching on her crab cakes, Kate answered, "It's not much to go on."

Guy kept nervously glancing around to make sure no one was listening to them. But the level of chatter and the clinking of glasses at the bar made it hard for Kate to hear him.

"I wish I could give you more, but as I said, no one is talking. If I hear anything else, I'll call you the usual way."

"Thanks, Guy. I'll pay for lunch."

Before he rose, he cocked his head to one side and kind of looked at her sideways. "Do you think we could meet for a drink while I'm here? I mean, you know, to talk about something besides business."

"I don't think that would be a good idea," Kate said, getting up from the table.

"I'll be in touch," Guy said quickly and left without glancing back.

Kate drove back to St. Simons thinking that what Guy had told her echoed what Bob had told her on the phone.

Even though it was late when she reached the condo, she called Carina for advice. She couldn't concentrate on her job because of Rod. Carina was a medium whom she along with two girlfriends had visited during summer vacations. They swore an oath never to tell anyone. Kate had returned many times to visit her, telling her things a skittish fifteen-year-old had a hard time sharing with anyone. Carina was half Cherokee Indian and half African-American, whose ancestors had hidden in the mountains of Tennessee and avoided the infamous Cherokee death march.

The next morning Kate put Rod's coffee cup in her large shoulder bag and drove over to Carina's neighborhood, one of the few areas of small houses and moss-covered live oaks where longtime residents on the island still lived. The condos, the resort hotels, and plush homes were devouring the old bungalows.

Carina, almost as wide as she was tall, hugged Kate, then stood back and declared, "I haven't seen you in a coon's age. Where have you been?"

Kate shook her head. "A lot has happened since I've seen you."

Carina told her not to tell her anything else. Instead, she took her by the arm and led her into the reading room which was lined with shelves containing ceramic statues of American Indians and ebony carvings of Africans.

Kate took the plastic bag out of her handbag and handed it to Carina who placed it in the middle of a table. She and Kate sat across from each other. After opening the bag, Carina held her hands over it without touching it and closed her eyes.

"I see a man. His cosmic path has been destined to cross with yours. I also see great turmoil around the two of you. Carina paused, concentrating hard. "There is great danger in this whirling turmoil," she said as she opened her eyes.

"I've started to investigate some big operation the government has started, involving drugs. Is he involved in it, too?" Kate asked.

"Well, I can't see exactly what it is; only that it involves both of you, and it is big and dangerous. But I do feel you will be all right," Carina answered and rose from her chair.

They said good-bye and Carina reminded her to be careful, for even though she had seen her all right, she still had to do her part.

Does he work for the government? Is that why he is so secretive, or am I going to put him in danger? Kate wondered. Those questions and many other sped through her mind as she returned to the condo.

Her grandmother called, and Kate promised she would drive up to Athens and pick her up the following day. It was about a five-hour trip, but she left early and arrived by lunchtime. After having lunch in the Hancock Assisted Living Center's dining room with Betty, they left. On the way home, Kathryn told Kate she had called Betty's grandson who was her only living relative. She told him that his grandmother had a great deal of money, but what she didn't have was someone to love. Kathryn then said, "I'm not very different from Betty."

"I love you, Grandmother and I promise I won't shut you out again," Kate replied.

* * *

That night in her Victorian hang-board mahogany bed, Kate tossed and turned. The bed had belonged to her mother Constance. Her grandmother had given Kate the bed after her mother had died. Her father let her accept the bed but had refused to move it around with them because it was extremely hard to assemble.

While sleeping in the bed, Kate often dreamed of her mother. Most of the dreams comforted her, but tonight they didn't. In her dream she saw her mother waking from her sleep and playing with a doll who looked like Kate. Shadowy creatures kept trying to take the doll away from her mother, but her mother would not let her go. She hid her and protected her from the creatures. The creatures went after a boy doll sitting on a shelf on the other side of the room. The boy doll looked like her brother Tom. Her mother tried to get to the boy doll and save him from the creatures too, but she wasn't fast enough. The creatures stole the boy doll before her mother could reach him. Kate woke up crying.

Walking by her room, Kathryn heard her and came to her. "What's wrong, Kate?" she asked.

"I had a dream about my mom and Tom." Kate then described the dream to her grandmother who had sat down on the side of the bed next to her.

Kathryn put her arm around her and said, "I think your mother is trying to protect you. How about I make you your favorite breakfast, French toast and bacon?"

"Thanks, Grandmother, that sounds terrific. I'll just first take a quick shower."

Kate took her plate out to the small table on the balcony. She loved the sound of the surf and the singing of the birds in the mornings. She cleaned her plate for she had always relished her grandmother's cooking and sat there sipping her coffee.

The phone rang and Kathryn working at the kitchen sink answered it. "It's for you, Kate," she called out through the open screened window.

Taking the cordless phone from Kathryn, Kate listened and then replied joyfully, "Maria, I can't believe it. Is it really you? It's been so long since I've talked to you."