Remember the Time (43 page)

Mike’s hands came up in frustration. “I guess I mean, something was always missing from my life.”

“Kate,” Matt said.

Mike flopped onto the couch. “Yeah. Kate.”

“How long have you been in love with her?”

Mike gazed into the fireplace. “From the first minute I saw her, I think.” He blinked and turned to look at Matt. “I guess you can understand that.”

Matt reddened and lowered his eyes to the floor.

“It’s okay, Matt. At least you have good taste …” Mike went back to staring at the fireplace. He took a deep breath and then went on. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked to anybody about this before. I know I’ve never had to admit it to anyone.” Mike closed his eyes. “God, how do I say this?” The words that followed came out of his mouth bitten and hard. “When Paul died there was a part of me that was glad. I don’t expect you to understand that. Hell, I don’t understand it myself. I’m ashamed for a lot of things I’ve done in my life, but that thought tops the list.

“While Paul was alive, I knew there was never any chance for me and Kate. And when he died …” He had to stop and swallow. “When he died, one of my first thoughts was he can’t hurt Kate anymore. Now I can take care of her.”

Matt had silently moved to the armchair. He watched his uncle’s obvious pain, a lump forming in his throat.

“I resented him for getting her, and for the way he treated her later. I told myself he didn’t love her, but I know that wasn’t true. Not really. I harbored this fantasy that she’d eventually get sick and tired of what he was putting her through and she’d leave him. But I knew that
wasn’t the truth, either. I tried to make myself forget her, but that was like trying to stop the sun from coming up every morning. Couldn’t be done.

“The women I went out with didn’t have a clue about what a shit I really was. They didn’t deserve what I put them through. They could never figure out what they were doing wrong. But they didn’t do anything wrong. They just weren’t Kate.

“Allison …” Mike’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “Bless her heart, she made the biggest mistake of them all. She had the bad luck of reminding me of Kate. And she’s the only one who knew the truth. I hurt her most of all.”

A quiet descended on the room. The muffled sounds of Kate moving around upstairs caught them by surprise, and they simultaneously looked toward the ceiling.

Matt broke the silence. “You should’ve told Kate how you felt about her.”

“You don’t tell a woman married to your best friend you love her.”

“I wish you’d told me,” Matt said.

Mike’s jaw tightened and, unconsciously, his hands formed fists. “Forget it. It’s done.”

“It’s worse now, isn’t it?”

Mike looked over at Matt. “What do you mean?”

Matt’s eyes met his uncle’s. “Because I’m Paul’s son. That makes it worse for you, doesn’t it?” When Mike didn’t answer, Matt stated, “I’m not Paul Armstrong.”

“I know that.”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to get into this,” Mike said.

“But if we don’t, you’re gonna hate me forever.”

Mike sighed. “I don’t hate you, Matt.”

“But you don’t like me anymore.”

“Shit, Matt!” Mike stood and walked to the window.
“Why did ya do it? If you knew what kind of shape she was in, why would you even think about it?”

“ ’Cause I thought it was the only chance I had to get closer to Paul.”

Matt’s honest reply was like a shot of strong liquor. It jolted Mike, and he turned to face his nephew, who was looking up at him with Paul’s hazel eyes. The resemblance shocked him. The special relationship he had with Matt, could it have been because he
was
like Paul in so many ways?

“That was before I knew,” Matt went on. “I can’t find much to admire him for anymore.”

“It’s hard when our heroes fall, Matt. The circumstances in this case make it even harder. It’s trite, but Paul was human. Humans fail.”

“Y’know, one minute you’re telling me what a piece of dogshit he was, and the next you’re defending him. What’s with that?”

Mike slowly walked to the fireplace, while Matt waited for some kind of answer that would end the schizophrenic roller coaster he was riding.

“I guess it’s guilt,” Mike finally said.

“What do you have to feel guilty about?” Matt asked.

Mike snorted. “Aside from everything else I’ve already told you?… What I’m gonna tell you doesn’t leave this room, because even Kate hasn’t heard this one.” Mike glanced at Matt, saw him nod, then went on. “When Paul died, I hadn’t spoken to him in over a month. The last time I saw him we argued. About Kate. It was pretty ugly and we both said a lot of stuff that probably shouldn’t have been said. I guess there’s such a thing as being too honest with a friend. Because he
was my friend
.”

“But Kate was your friend, too.”

“Yeah. No matter what else I wanted her to be, Kate was my friend, too. Which made it even harder. I
wanted to make her life better. Maybe I wanted that more than I wanted Paul’s friendship at that point.” The side of Mike’s fist hit the mantel and his body seemed to sag.

Matt sat still, not knowing what to do or say to take some of his uncle’s pain away. His short life hadn’t prepared him for this kind of thing.

“Christ! He was my friend, and he fucking died, and I can never tell him I love him. He could be a sorry son of a bitch, but I still loved him, damn it!”

Matt was on his feet in an instant. “But why? Why did you love him? I need to know!”

Mike didn’t hesitate. The words poured out of him. “Because Paul didn’t love many people, but he loved me. And in some ways he understood Kate better than I ever could, back then. And I know in my heart he loved her, too. And I think if he’d ever been given the chance, he would’ve loved you. I loved him for saving Mitchell Browder’s life. I just loved him because he was Paul Armstrong.” Mike gripped the mantel with both hands and leaned into it. “Not too long ago, Kate asked me if I believed everything in life happens for a reason. At the time I was too angry to understand what she meant. I’ve always thought we had control over the direction our lives take. Now I’m not so sure.

“Maybe Kate and I weren’t meant to be until now. Maybe we both had to live the lives we’ve had up to this point in order to appreciate what we’ve found now. And maybe you were meant to find out that Paul was your father now, because any sooner would’ve changed who you are right now.”

“Who am I?” Matt asked quietly. “All of a sudden, I don’t know anymore.”

Mike turned to face his nephew, and even though Matt was physically bigger than his uncle, Mike could see he was barely grown. The older man took the younger in his arms. “You’re the best of Paul, and your
mom, and Dan, wrapped up in a new package called Matt Keller.”

“I want to be the best of
you
.”

A lump formed in Mike’s throat. “Thank you, Matt … I love you, too.”

They separated and Matt asked, “Will you take me to get my car? I wanna go home now.”

“W
hen do you want to open your present?” Kate asked Mike, trying to contain her amusement.

They lay on their stomachs at the foot of the bed, staring into the fire.

Mike, chin on his forearm, smiled as he rubbed a bare foot along her calf. “That wasn’t it?”

Kate languidly rolled onto her side to look at him. “You
know
your gift wouldn’t be anything that nice,” she said, grinning. Their Christmas ritual of who could find the other the tackiest gift had been going on for too many years to count. She wasn’t about to end it now.

Mike lazily turned his head and regarded her naked form appreciatively before speaking. “What time does Mickey say it is?”

Kate lifted her arm to look at her watch. “Ten past midnight.”

“Then I guess it’s Christmas.” He continued gazing at her, head on his arm, not moving.

Kate poked his shin with her toe and said, “Come on, Mike. Where’s my present?”

He sighed in resignation and slowly stretched. His arms surrounded her and he pulled her close. “One more kiss, darlin’.” His mouth covered hers.

He took his time, and Kate felt herself fall under the spell of this rediscovered feeling of lust. When he suddenly released her and said, “I’ll go get it,” Kate involuntarily groaned. “You’re a cruel, cruel man, Michael Fitzgerald.” He was already on his feet and Kate watched the muscles in his back and buttocks with unabashed appraisal as he walked out of the bedroom. A satisfied smile came to her lips. “You’re a
gorgeous
man, Michael Fitzgerald,” she said to the empty room as she reached under the bed for the box she’d put there.

When Mike returned, Kate sat up and wrapped herself in the quilt. “You first.”

“No way. The rules state that last year’s winner goes first.” Mike shrugged into a denim workshirt. “As I recall, you won with the lovely silver-plated corncob holders in the shape of breasts.”

Kate grinned and took the package from him. “I bet you never used them,” she said in mock hurt.

“On the contrary … they made great pushpins.”

She had already ripped the paper off the small box and plunged her hand inside, lifting out the tissue-wrapped object. Peeling off the outer layer, she stared at a piece of porcelain, obviously old. A look of disappointment stole over her face. “Mike, this is too nice …” Then she turned it around and her husky laugh hit him full force.

The prewar Japanese ashtray she held portrayed a smiling man on his hands and knees. Astride him was a redheaded woman in a polka-dot bathing suit. The caption read: “
She’s As Nice a Gal As You Want t’Meet, But She Loves to Ride in the Rumble Seat
.”

“God, Mike!” She was still laughing. “This is priceless!”

“It struck me as perfect.”

Still holding the ashtray, Kate threw her arms around him and knocked Mike over onto the bed. Slithering up his torso, careful to feel every inch of his hard-on, she throatily chuckled. “Wanna fuck?”

Her candor took him by surprise and Mike’s hands circled her waist, his eyes smiling. “Who are you?”

“Don’t toy with me, Michael. You’re dealing with a woman who’s denied herself for a very long time. So, I repeat. Wanna fuck?”

“I wanna open my present.” Kate’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he quickly added, “And then I wanna fuck.”

“Goody!” She sprang up and grabbed the flat box for him.

He weighed it, shook it, turned it over. It was meticulously wrapped, and he took his time with it, driving her crazy as he carefully undid the flaps of the paper so as not to tear it. She watched impatiently as he slid his finger under the final piece of tape and then began folding the gift wrap. He placed it on the bed, neatly piling the ribbon on top. This was all part of the ritual, and she knew it, but it didn’t stop her from muttering, “Come on, Mike, we’re getting older here!”

The lid was off the box and he peeled the tissue paper apart. Mike held up the royal blue boxer shorts covered with the
SPAM
logo and snorted. “You don’t really expect me to wear these, do you?”

Kate giggled. “And you don’t really expect to get into
my
panties without putting yours on, do you?”

“Oh, come on, Kate!” He was laughing as he set them aside and reached for her.

“Uh-uh. Put ’em on,” she said.

“Now?”

“Mike,” she explained patiently. “You have to put them on in order for me to take them off you.”

Kate came awake reluctantly, not sure why her mind didn’t want to be lucid. It was early. She knew that because she could still hear embers popping in the fireplace. Mike lay sprawled across the bed, his face buried
in the crook of his arm. She rolled onto her side and watched him as he slept, a smile on her lips.

Cautiously, Kate reached out to touch his hair and she was suddenly taken with the reality of him lying in bed next to her. This was a wonderful thing. To hear his steady breathing, to be able to look at his smooth, muscled back, to know that his strong hands would always bring her pleasure, to understand that this man really loved her. Yes, this was truly a miraculous, wonderful thing.

And just as suddenly, she knew why she felt uneasy. It was Christmas. She moved closer to him and kissed his shoulder blade, willing him to wake. “Mike?” she whispered as he lifted his head.

A sleepy smile greeted her, then he mumbled, “S’early … go back to sleep.” His face disappeared into the pillow.

“Mike?” Her fingers caressed his neck. “Please? Can you hold me?”

His arm stole around her waist as he pulled her close. She could hear the rasp of his morning beard on the pillowcase as his face came into view again. His warm breath fogged her senses as his lips touched her eyelids.

“Merry Christmas, Katie,” he said quietly. “What is it?”

“I don’t think I can face Sheryl.”

“It’ll be hard, but it’ll be okay.” His hand moved down to her bare hip, then came to rest cupping a smooth cheek.

She draped a leg over his thigh and nestled into his body. Kate fell asleep wishing they could stay this way forever.

“Are you sure they’re coming?” Matt asked from the kitchen doorway, as Sheryl closed the oven door for the fifth time.

Both the turkey and Sheryl were doing a slow burn when the front door finally opened and Mike’s voice reached her. She swept past Matt, into the hallway and, still holding the baster, pointed it at her brother. “You’re over an hour late!”

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Mike said as he hung his coat in the closet.

“Where is she?”

“Don’t start that ‘she’ stuff, Sheryl.”

“Where’s Kate?”

“On her way. And I’m sorry we’re late.”

“I suppose I have Kate to thank for that?” Sheryl asked.

“First of all, don’t assume anything. As it happens, it’s my fault we’re late. And secondly, let’s not forget how awkward this is gonna be. It was tough enough getting her to come at all.”

Mike had made a very uneasy peace with his sister for Matt’s sake. It was hard not to think of her as the bad guy in all this, because she was here and alive. He had to keep reminding himself that Paul deserved the blame.