Scrambled Babies (29 page)

“That was a strike on the outside corner.” 

Madison
’s voice brought Paeton from her reverie.  The child sat on Steve’s lap wowing the television audience with her play-by-play.  Steve beamed as if she were his daughter.  Paeton was proud, even if her daughter’s talents were based in the world of jocks.

When Madison’s brief announcing debut had ended, Paeton took her daughter’s hand, and they returned to their seats.  Paeton paid scant attention to the rest of the game.  She was worried that, struggle as she might against it, she and Steve Kaselman were going to be playing in extra innings.  She laughed to herself.  This was the second time in the past few minutes that jock-type allusions had crept into her thoughts.

Then she sobered.  Would the game with Steve Kaselman ever be over?  And were they on the same or separate teams?

Chapter 11

Paeton sat on a blanket across from Steve.  It was three days after Madison’s debut on TV.  The setting was breathtaking: golf-course-green grass with huge, fragrant magnolia and sweet acacia trees surrounding a sparkling lake.  The sound of lightly lapping ripples conversing with the white sandy beach relaxed her. 

Steve had asked Paeton to join him for lunch while Greta watched their children.  A lunch date was okay.  But it would be a long time before she let herself in for a dinner disappointment again.  Spread in front of them were elegant picnic foods Steve had ordered from some deli that catered to the movie stars.  Every item had a famous movie tie-in.  Paeton reached out to sample an E.T. sandwich containing meats and condiments that were “out of this world.”

She saw Steve looking at her.  “Okay, I have to ask.  What’s with the major anti-jock attitude?  You never met a jock you didn’t hate?  After I screwed up that Saturday night, I’m amazed I’m sitting across from you.”

“Well, you employed unfair tactics—using my daughter and reading my book.”

Paeton heard him laugh and say something else as she felt the rasp of old memories.  One thing about Steve Kaselman, he always came in directly.  But she couldn’t kid herself.  She had known this conversation was coming ever since they both discovered they couldn’t merely exchange their babies and say good-bye.

She let her eyes meet his. 
Always a dangerous decision!
  Paeton wanted yet dreaded this conversation.  They had to get past her intense negative feelings associated with jocks if their relationship was to move to a new and better place.  Apparently, that’s what Paeton wanted, or she wouldn’t be eyeing the sumptuous treats in front of her—including Steve Kaselman!

Now the time had come, and she didn’t know how to respond.  She felt as if she were floating in a boundless ocean where the surface promised pleasure, but the deep posed devastation.

She heard Steve laugh playfully again.  “Hey!  Paeton McPhilomy!  You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?  Is this what it’s like being with an author?  You’re always wandering around in some other exciting space and time while the rest of us are harnessed to the boring here and now?”

Paeton laughed too, a little embarrassed.  “Hey, yourself.  I’m sorry.  Yes, I guess that’s true.  There’s always some story rattling around in my brain.  And sometimes it takes over the real situation.”

“Well, what were you writing a second ago?”

She blushed.  “Well, if you have to know, I was thinking about you.”

“Oh, I’m in one of your stories?”

“How can you not be with all the commotion you’ve caused in my life lately?” she countered, arching one eyebrow.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute.  I thought we’ve been through that.  I mean, I still haven’t convinced you that I don’t give every strange woman who bumps into me the look I gave you?” 

“Well,” and Paeton was coy, “I guess I’m convinced.” 

“Besides, the truth is
I
didn’t give
you
a look.  We responded to
each
other’s
look.  Paeton,” he reached across the blanket and gently took her hand, “what I’m trying to say here is that I think we have something special, and we need to get past this I’m-a-no-good-jock thing so we can move on to just us.”

His hand felt so perfect, as if her hand was made for his.  Paeton was feeling safer and safer with Steve.  “I think we’re making progress.”

Steve’s light sigh suggested he was relieved.  “I certainly hope so.  I’m tired of taking the rap for the jerk-jocks you must have been involved with.  You know I hated breaking that date.  You know it was business.  Come on now, I want the truth about all these jocks who have made you so skittish that you won’t trust me.  The truth!  All of it, Paeton McPhilomy!”

“Well, there’s not much to tell.”  She stared up into a velvet-white magnolia blossom that was lulling them in its rich perfume.  Then she brought her face to his.  “No, that’s not the truth.  There were two—and they were all of it!  The first was my high school sweetheart, Tommy Hodges.  He was the school jock:  varsity football, track, basketball.  From sophomore year on.  Became captain of all three in senior year.  Tall, dark, and gorgeous.  And he had a gentle side.  At least I thought he did.  We started going steady as sophomores.  And by senior year, we thought we had true love, the way most high school kids do.  We were going to go off to college, write steamy letters, see each other holidays, and in the end, get married.  We put off sex and put off sex and put off sex until we finally couldn’t anymore.  Even the few times we did, we were careful. 

“At least we thought we were until I was a month late for my period.  I was scared to death.  This happened to other people, not me.  And I kept praying it was a freaky irregularity, so I didn’t tell him.  Then when I was two months late, I told him I was sure I was pregnant.  He ran like a scared rabbit.  Or more like a scared tight end.  He ran and ran and ran, and I couldn’t get him even to talk to me after that.” 

“The wimp son of a bitch!”

“It was a horrible, lonely time.  I never told anybody I was late.  My parents expected so much of me.  I just couldn’t tell them.  I kept hoping—”  Paeton inhaled deeply.  “Well, the good news was I was only late.  I was very athletic, and my intense physical activity had affected my period.  I was late many times after that until I stopped being such a jock.  When Tommy found out I wasn’t pregnant, he wanted to come back.  But you can guess the answer to that one.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea.”  Steve’s voice was tender.  “And the other truth?  One high school punk doesn’t an entire world of jerk-jocks make.”

Paeton let her heart drift back to college days.  “True.  That’s what I figured too.”  A melancholy smile spread over her face.  “So enter Mr. Woodson Van Slyck.  Heartbreaker extraordinaire.”

“Woodson?  What kind of a name is Woodson?”

Paeton laughed.  “Well, it’s southern—Atlanta, Georgia.”  And Paeton gave her version of a southern accent.  “Everybody called him Woody.  For a while I called him mine.  I met him at a college swim conference.  I never saw anyone so beautiful off the board.  He seemed to stay up in the air forever, spinning, twisting, jack-knifing and then entering the water in a quiet slide.”  She stopped, reluctant to revisit that painful past, but Steve was prompting her.

“And?”

Paeton winced.  She could still feel the hurt after all these years.  “And a month before our wedding, I found out he was entering more than the water with that quiet slide.  I thought my father was going to hunt him down and kill him.”

“I’d feel the same way if you were my daughter.”  He looked at her affectionately.  “Thank god you’re not!”

Paeton laughed.  “So you can see why I waited to marry until I was twenty-eight, and that when I did, I married Kevin Smith, faithful, steady, wouldn’t-know-a-bunt-from-a-half-gainer, certified public accountant “ordinaire.”

Steve smiled warmly.  “Boy, you weren’t taking any chances that time!  Would it be fair to say he was a world-class un-jock?  And Smith?  Where did McPhilomy come from?”

“Right.  McPhilomy.  My mother’s maiden name.  She died right before I started writing novels.  I decided in her honor to take McPhilomy as my pen name.”

Steve got up, walked around the blanket, and sat down next to her quietly.  His hand enfolded hers.  He unwrapped her fingers and doodled with his fingers in her palm.  “So one steady accountant beats two unreliable jocks, huh?”

“Yes, I guess that was it.”

“How about if I said I can make up for two bad jocks?”  He put her hand to his mouth and kissed it lightly.  “I’ve never met anyone like you, Paeton.  I hope you finally believe me that what happened at the airport was unique for me.”  He held her chin, tilted her head up, and gazed into her eyes.  “Like right now.  You send me into outer space.  No woman has ever done that.”

Paeton kept her eyes in his, but she broke the spell with a pointed question.  “Oh, really?  Not even the woman you were about to marry?  Not even Crystal Youngblood?”

“No, not even Crystal Youngblood.”

Paeton was confused.  “But you were going to marry her.  Why would you marry someone who didn’t take you into outer space?”

Steve’s smile was peculiar.  “Well, there’s a story there.  Have you got time for a story?” 

“Sure, you listened to mine.  I’ll listen to yours.”

Steve studied the remains of the catered lunch before meeting Paeton’s eyes.  He knew telling one woman about another woman was trickier than heart surgery.  His hope was that he could keep his story about Crystal at least that clinical.

“Crystal didn’t want to get married.  But she wanted a baby.  That was exactly what I wanted—a baby, no marriage.”

Steve saw a flicker of change behind Paeton’s eyes.  Her mouth lost its looseness.  Steve waited for her to say something.  When she didn’t, he continued, feeling somewhat tentative about his next words.  “You see, the few women I was serious about never wanted a child.  At least for some time.  They had careers.  Either in sports or broadcasting.”

“Why didn’t Crystal want to get married?”

“Probably for the same reasons I didn’t—too risky.  Marriage is usually a path to divorce.”

Paeton didn’t respond.  Steve almost shivered, such cold emanated from her eyes.

“People can live happily together without having to get married, you know.”

“Uh-huh.” 

He bent forward and tried to kiss her.  She pulled courteously away.