Remember the Time (11 page)

“Would you mind doing this? I’ll take care of it.” Kate rushes out of the kitchen and nearly knocks over Mike in the hallway in her hurry to get upstairs
.

“Kate? What’s wrong?” His words bounce off her retreating back. Puzzled, he pokes his head into the living room and catches Paul’s attention. “Kate just ran upstairs and she looked panicked.”

“I’ll check on her. Thanks,” Paul says, hurrying after his wife
.

Allison appears in the doorway, a questioning look in her eyes
.

“What happened?” Mike asks
.

“I don’t know. I noticed a spot on the back of her dress, and she went nuts.”

Paul comes down a few minutes later, and Mike seeks him out. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. Don’t say anything, okay?”

Kate enters the living room moments later wearing a black silk shawl, and it is then Mike realizes what has been nagging at him about Kate’s dress. It’s strapless, and although higher in the back than Allison’s, it still shows about six inches of her upper back, something he’s never seen before. And there is something else he’s never seen. Her scar. He’s known about it for years, and knows she never wears anything that would reveal it. And he hasn’t seen it tonight, either. She has covered it with body makeup. That is the stain Allison has seen
.

Mike notices Allison working her way through the crowd toward Kate. Moving quickly, he grasps Allison’s arm before she can reach Kate. Without preamble, he states, “I’ll tell you later. Don’t say a word.”

But the evening has been ruined for Kate. He can see it on her face and in the subdued movements of her body. Allison watches in hurt wonder as Mike leaves her side to go to Kate
.

“Did you save a dance for me, Katie?” Mike asks, running a gentle hand over her hair
.

And it is then that Allison knows she has a rival in Kate, and that Kate doesn’t even know it. Allison can’t take her eyes off Mike as his arm circles Kate’s waist, and she melts into his body. They both have their eyes closed, but she can see them whispering to each other. Allison looks for Paul in the crowd, wanting to see his reaction, but she is disappointed when he watches Kate and Mike for a few seconds with a grin on his face, and then goes back to the conversation he is having with three other men
.

When they’ve finished their dance, Kate’s spirits seem restored, and Mike watches in amusement as she asks for quiet
.
“Jerry? We haven’t seen your performance yet, and I’m sure everyone is dying to know what scene you’re going to do from
True Grit.
Why don’t you start the next round?”

Jerry Springer, the second-string catcher for the Giants who comes from nearby Waynesboro, quickly says, “What about you, Kate? I think the hostess should lead off the second half.”

His suggestion is met with voices raised in agreement and clapping. Kate looks at Paul across the room and he gives her an encouraging nod. Her eyes sweep the room, then she grins and gives a “what the hell” shrug
.

“Okay, let’s get this over with.” She looks at Allison. “Care to join me?”

Allison shakes her head. “No. I don’t think I can compete.”

Kate moves to the far wall, takes off the shawl, and faces the crowd. “All right, Paul. Hit it.”

The music starts and Kate begins her husky-voiced rendition of “Put the Blame on Mame,” doing a perfect imitation of Rita Hayworth’s pouty, provocative burlesque. Their friends roar as she slowly peels off a glove, trails it over Mike’s head, and drops it in his lap. As she seductively glides through the movements of the number, the other glove comes off, ending up in Lou Whitley’s outstretched hand. She bends forward, placing her hands on her thighs, revealing milky-white cleavage. She sings through a curtain of fiery hair, one smoky blue eye gazing at her audience. When she finishes with arms up and one shapely leg peeking out of the expanse of black satin, those who aren’t already standing, leap up to join the applause
.

Winking at Mike, Kate grabs her shawl on her way out the door
.

Allison downs the gin and tonic she’s been nursing during Kate’s number, and holds out the glass to Mike. “I’ll be right back.”

Allison finds Kate on the mud porch, the back door wide open
.

Kate smiles. “Needed some fresh air.”

“I can imagine,” Allison responds. “I could use a little myself.” She pauses, then says, “That was quite a performance.”

“Thanks,” Kate answers. “It would’ve been a kick to do it together.”

Kate’s words seem genuine to Allison, but she still asks, “It was a performance, wasn’t it?”

Kate turns. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Allison says as she looks into Kate’s eyes and sees genuine puzzlement. “Kate, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“It’s about Mike. What’s the longest relationship he’s had?”

“Probably the one he has with you. I guess hell finally froze over.” Kate’s grin disappears at Allison’s frown. “Hey, I’m sorry!” She runs her hand down the other woman’s arm. “It’s a very old joke. He’s lucky he found you.”

The champagne starts flowing around quarter to twelve. Allison drifts from room to room searching for Mike. She finally finds him in the backyard playing catch with Kate and Homer while Paul looks on from the back porch. Kate has slipped a sweater on over her dress and has taken off her shoes. Allison can see Mike’s breath in the backlight of the floods in the trees. They are both laughing, as they tease the dog with the promise of a tossed ball
.

Allison leans on the railing next to Paul. “Do I remind you of her?”

“Does it matter?” he asks
.

“I hope not,” she says softly
.

They both watch in silence for a few minutes, then Allison asks, “It doesn’t bother you?”

“What’s that?” Paul asks, never taking his eyes off Kate
.

“That he’s in love with your wife.”

Paul chuckles. “Everyone loves Kate. Besides.” Paul glances at Allison before turning his attention back to Kate. “It shouldn’t bother you, either. He married you, didn’t he?”

There is a groundswell of noise billowing out of the house and the screams of “Happy New Year” reach their ears. Kate runs to Mike and flings her arms around him, as he lifts her
into the air and swings around. When her feet are back on the ground, she pulls his head down and hisses him. In seconds, Kate is running toward Paul. She reaches the railing and smiles up at Paul, saying, “Happy New Year, baby. God, I love being home!”

Paul reaches down, scoops her up in his arms, and brings her over the railing. Still holding her, he brings his lips to hers for a hungry kiss. As Paul carries her into the house, he says over his shoulder, “See you guys in the morning … Happy New Year!”

Mike is still standing in the middle of the yard. He hasn’t noticed Allison come out, and is now surprised to see her. He hurries to the porch. “Alli! I didn’t know you were out here.”

“Obviously. Happy New Year, Mike.”

“Happy New Year, Alli.” He leans forward to kiss her, but she backs away
.

“What’s this about?” he asks
.

“Can’t you guess?”

He draws a breath. “I warned you about Kate.”

Allison locks her eyes with his. “But you didn’t warn me about you. I’m going to bed.”

Mike sees the party out to its bitter end. The last couple departs around one-thirty, leaving Mike to turn out lights and lock doors. As he pads past Paul and Kate’s door in bare feet he can hear their bedsprings creaking, but no other sounds come through the thick walls and heavy door. He’s heard it before. It always tortures him
.

Mike slips into the guest room. Allison has left the small art-glass lamp on and it casts an amber glow in the far corner of the large room. He undresses quickly, turns off the light, and makes his way into the four-poster bed. No movement comes from Allison’s side of the mattress, but he knows she’s not asleep
.

“Alli?” he whispers, tentatively touching her shoulder. There is no response. “Alli, please?”

Her voice is rigid with anger. “What is it, Mike?”

He moves closer to her, kissing her hair. She stiffens when he tries to pull her next to him
.

“I will not be your substitute for her,” she says through clenched teeth. “I will not be your second choice.” She hears him sigh and tears spring to her eyes. “Have you ever once made love to me when she wasn’t in the bed between us?”

A few seconds pass before he says, “I’m sorry, Allison. I was really hoping … I wanted it to work. For what it’s worth, I love you.”

“But not enough to make you forget her.”

Mike was in Williamsburg on a consultation with the College of William and Mary the day she moved out. He knew she’d be gone when he came home, but the quiet house hurt just the same. Paul had called a few days after the party. When he’d asked after Allison, Mike told him she’d gone. There had been a long silence on the line. Paul finally said, “You wanna talk about it?” But Mike had declined. “Okay, buddy. But it’s a new year. It can only get better, right?”

His divorce became final just six months later.

Now, turning off the lights in his kitchen in the house on High Street, Mike muttered, “Yeah, right,” remembering the next few years. “You really called it there, Paul.”

Forgetting to lock the door, he went upstairs to bed.

K
ate held the phone to her ear as Mike’s departing words echoed through her mind.
“It’s you, Kate … Just you.”

She’d been staring, dumbfounded, at the door Mike had walked out of when Donna Estes said, “Hello,” for the third time. Kate was finally able to speak and she said, “Sorry, Donna. I’ll have to call you back,” and hung up the phone. Kate sat for a few seconds longer, then, out loud, asked herself, “What did he say?”

Kate sprang off the couch and paced the room, muttering to herself. “What did
that
mean?” She whirled toward the telephone and grabbed the receiver, then slammed it back down.
No! I will
not
call you!
Her wine glass still held some of the ruby Chianti and Kate polished it off as she stalked out of the den toward the kitchen. The dinner dishes were still piled in the sink and she tackled them with a manic fervor, but the work didn’t silence Mike’s words. Kate rinsed the final plate and, drying her hands on her jeans, deliberately strode down the hallway and out of her house.

She didn’t bother to knock on his back door. Kate flipped on the kitchen light and swept through the house. “Michael James Fitzgerald!” she shouted, climbing the stairs.

The light came on in the bedroom, and she heard him say, “Jesus! Kate?”

Before he could move, she was in the room. “How
dare
you say something like that to me and then walk out!” Mike sat up in his bed, bare-chested. “And what the hell did you mean by that?” she demanded.

“You’re a big girl, Kate. You know what I meant.” He leaned back against the headboard.

“You get out of that bed this instant. I can’t talk to you like this.”

He didn’t move.

Her voice lowered, her words measured, she said, “Will you please get up.”

Mike shrugged and threw off the covers. Rising to his full six feet, he stood in front of her wearing nothing but a pair of navy blue briefs.

Kate blushed violently, and she hissed, “Put some clothes on!”

His eyes narrowed. “You walk into my bedroom uninvited, you take the consequences.”

“Thanks for the warning,” she stated. “I’ll be in the living room.”

His voice followed her into the hallway and down the stairs. “And miss your chance to see my very nice ass up close and personal?”

Kate yanked open the draperies and stared, unseeing, into the dark street. Her thoughts moved at the speed of sound. Her heart beat heavy and fast.

The sight of Mike nearly naked had taken her breath away, but she wouldn’t admit it, even to herself. Instead, she tried to focus on the known feelings: outrage and fear. But she couldn’t pretend any longer. The quiet voice that, through the years, had whispered,
“You’ve made a mistake,”
was suddenly screaming to be heard.
“It’s been Mike all along.”

Her hands flew up to cover her ears, as if that could block out the sound. She grew hot again, but this time
with guilt. Mike’s footsteps on the stairs warned her, and she lowered her hands to grip the windowsill.

He sauntered into the living room a few seconds later. Flopping into a leather armchair, he said, “Let’s talk.”

She turned from the window. He’d put on a pair of jeans. The faded denim shirt he wore was unbuttoned. His feet were bare. It was a moment before she could speak normally. “Explain to me just exactly what you meant.”

“I meant just what I said. You’re the woman I committed myself to a long time ago.” His eyes held hers. “God help me.” She took a step toward him, stopped, and a look of confusion crossed her face. “What? Kate Armstrong speechless? I don’t believe it.”

She sat on the ottoman in front of him. Slowly, as if trying to work it out in her mind, she said, “What you mean is, you’re my friend, and you feel obligated to take care of me.”

“What I mean is, I love you.” His voice didn’t yield to the wistfulness he felt. It was stone.

But Kate refused to hear the words the way he meant them. “I love you, too, Mike. You know that.”

His jaw tightened. “As a friend,” he said.

“Of course,” she said, trying to sound convincing. “You’re my best friend.”

“Okay, Kate. You believe what you want to believe. But it’s getting harder and harder for me to be just your friend anymore.” He paused. “You asked me if I was lonely. Why?”