Taylor Made Owens (35 page)

At 8:27, the doorbell rang. Lisa opened the door to see Robert standing there. She couldn’t believe her eyes. “Come in, please,” she said. “Krissy’s upstairs in her old room.” Bill came over to shake his hand. Jeremy and his wife Natalie, who’d come to visit Kristen, also greeted him. “I’ll call her,” said Lisa.

“No,” Robert said. “Can I go to see her? I need to be alone with her for a few minutes.”

“Of course. Go on up,” said Bill.

Robert knocked on Kristen’s bedroom door, quivering from fear. “No answer,” he said to her parents, who were hovering at the bottom of the stairs with Jeremy and Natalie.

“She probably has her headphones on,” Lisa assured. “Just go in.”

He opened her door a crack and saw her sitting by the window, looking outside. She did have headphones on. “Krissy?” he called. She didn’t hear. She was singing softly. What was it? He drew closer. “Night and Day.” She was singing with the song on the headphones.
His
“Night and Day” that he had serenaded her with years earlier as she sat by this very window.
I didn’t know she recorded that
, he thought with some embarrassment. He crept up behind her and began to sing in time with the recording.

It’s hard to say when she realized he was there. She may have been imagining he was doing what he was doing: singing to her. He pulled off her headphones while singing the song; she didn’t move, frozen in her gaze outside toward the branches where young Bobby had perched.

She turned and gasped, “Bobby?” He smiled. “You’re really here?” He nodded. She began to shake all over. His quivering and her shaking registered 4.5 on the Richter Scale. “What are you doing—”

“Now it’s my turn to speak,” he interrupted. “So this time, let me say something before speaking, okay?” She nodded apprehensively. He knelt before her. “I rehearsed it and I’m nervous as hell. I’m no poet and I’m no romantic, as you know, but I speak from the heart. I go through life without you feeling empty inside, as if I don’t have a soul. Without you, I’m just that insecure, lonely little eight-year-old boy who had nothing but his bat and glove. I have no one to really talk to, no one to share special times with, no one to help me through hard times, no one to admire, no one to love. I’ve been a fool, Krissy. Please forgive me for being so pigheaded, for taking you for granted, for hurting you, for pushing you away.”

He took her trembling right hand with his left and caressed her face with his other hand. She inclined her face into his hand and kissed it as her tears stirred. “I knew I missed you, more with every day that passed, but until I saw you today I had no idea how boundless my need for you is.” He brought her right hand to his lips and kissed it.

She wondered if this were truly happening. Could it possibly be that he was going to ask her to marry him? She held her breath, getting more emotional and excited with each word he spoke. “You are without question the single most wonderful person I have ever met. I truly doubt there’s a better human being on the planet. What I’m trying to say is … I love you, Krissy!” She began to cry. It was the first time he’d ever uttered that magical phrase.

“I love you, too,” she said.

He pulled her tenderly off her chair to her knees, took her in his arms, and hugged her. He moved back a bit and took a deep breath. Taking her hands and looking into her sparkling eyes, he said, “If you’ll still have me …” He hesitated out of fear. Tears streamed down her cheeks. There was complete silence for a moment but for the sound of nervous breathing, and the blowing of female noses and shushing of males outside her door. He plunged forward, “You’d make me the happiest man on Earth if you say you’ll be my wife. Kristen Taylor, please marr—”

“YES!” she answered before he could finish, grabbing the ring he proffered and sliding it onto her ring finger, and lunging to embrace him. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!” There was a commotion outside of her door. The two glanced at the door and smiled.

“You’re sure?” he beamed, tears welling in his eyes.

“I can’t believe this is really happening. Please tell me it’s real.”

“It’s real. That’s my mother’s engagement ring.” He’d stopped by Kim’s to get it out of his trunk that held the promise of a new family. “I hope that’s okay. You said it fit perfectly.”

“I’ll treasure it forever.”

The couple was yet hugging closely. “You should know that I married Jenny after she told me you were married to some guy named Katz.”

“What? That bitch!”

“That’s precisely what I called her when she called me yesterday to fess up. Then I called you.”

“She must have erased the message. That’s why she showed up yesterday. She staged the whole thing. Did you get the message I left you last February?”

“No. Shit! She must have intercepted that one, too. What did you say?”

“I said I missed you and asked you to call me. When you didn’t call, I got serious about Andrew Katz. When I found out you married Jenny, I nearly died and just about accepted his proposal. In the end, I couldn’t go through with it: he wasn’t you.”

“I’m sorry about marrying her. It obviously didn’t last. She wasn’t you.” She smiled. “When do you want to get married?” Robert asked.

“I don’t know. There are lots of arrangements. I need a dress—”

“How about tomorrow?” Robert interrupted.

“Tomorrow? But …” Kristen was shocked. There was nothing she wanted more than to marry him, so she was sorely tempted to consent. Moreover, delaying might run the risk of something else intervening to steal away their felicity. On the other hand: “Our wedding isn’t something I want over and done with. It’s the most special day of a woman’s life. I want to plan it, fret over it, and look forward to it. I want to savor it not only on our wedding day but forever. It’s a lot of work, but it’s a labor of love, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I want our day to be perfect.” Too bad her argument was so persuasive.

“All right. Whatever you want is fine by me. When though?”

“Let’s talk about that later. I’m dying to show everyone my ring.” She sneaked up to the door and opened it quickly to catch the four of them there. She held out her hand to show her ring, jumping excitedly and crying tears of joy.

Her mother joined her, jumping and crying in unison. “I knew it, I knew it,” said her mom, “You two were meant to be!” Her dad and brother got something in their eyes.

The family went downstairs for a celebratory potation. Brian, Kim, and her husband Phil were invited over as well. Afterward, they left the couple on their own. Kristen and Robert sat holding hands, engaged in deep converse about the recent past and their immediate future. They talked about his experience in Iraq, though he spared her the goriest details and glossed over the torture, because he didn’t want to upset his fiancée or himself. “I love you so much. If you didn’t do what you did, I hesitate to think of how different the world might be,” Kristen declared. “Did they give you a medal?”

“Yes, the Distinguished Service Cross. I gave it to Brian.”

Tears came to her eyes as she embraced him. Nothing impressed the Taylor women more than gallantry. They spoke for a short time about their university years and the major events since, and began to consider their future together. Every so often his son would come and sit on his knee. “He’s adorable, just like his father,” Kristen said.

“You want one? I can whip one up for you,” suggested the naughty man.

“I’ll take four, please,” she replied. Getting more serious, she asked, “When can we start a family?”

“It wouldn’t make sense any time soon, with me on the road for eight or nine months a year and you a busy doctor.”

“It may not make sense, but this goes beyond logic. It’s hard to explain. I know it would shock everyone I work with that I even want children; they see me as dedicated to my profession—and I am. But with you, I’m just myself: a woman madly in love; your wife to be; your best friend; your soul mate who was meant to have children with you. I’m so anxious to have your baby.”

“Take Brian, then. He’s housebroken already.” She smiled and thought how fabulous it will be to enjoy his sense of humor for the rest of time. “I don’t want our children raised by strangers. You’ve worked long and hard to become a doctor. What would happen to your career if you step out of it for several years to raise children at this point? I certainly don’t want to quit baseball. What’s the point of having children now if we can’t spend any time with them? Just to have little copies of ourselves that we see every now and then? Let’s wait till my career is over.”

“And if it lasts for another fifteen years?”

“It won’t. My bum shoulder is sore as hell even though I don’t throw as hard as I can. And my pitching hand is causing me trouble, too; my fingers never healed properly after the Iraqi bastard snapped them, and I couldn’t get medical help for a few days. I’ll be lucky to stay in the majors next year.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Let me see your hand.” She took his hand and manipulated his fingers in different ways. “Your index finger is crooked. I’m afraid we’ll have to call off the wedding,” she joked. She also moved his right shoulder and arm around and asked questions about his soreness. “I’ll have a close look at your shoulder and hand at my hospital. Don’t sell medicine short. Some expert care and loving attention afterward from your personal physician can work wonders.” She kissed his hand. “Whatever happens with your career, I’ll love you every bit as much.” She didn’t say so because she knew what baseball meant to him, but she liked the idea of his being out of the sport. It would mean less time apart, less female temptation for him, and having children sooner. “Whenever your career ends, you can use your incredible brain to do whatever you want. And whatever happens, I want to start a family soon, okay?”

“Okay, but let’s at least wait a little while to have some time with just the two of us.” Changing the subject, he said, “There’s only this coming weekend left in the season. We’re at home. They might well be my last in the majors, so I really want you to be there. Can you come with me to Minneapolis? I want to show you off to my teammates.”

“I’d love to. So, what happens after the weekend? I won’t be through my residency until next summer. I can’t leave at this point. Can you stay with me in California until baseball starts again next year? I rent a small apartment near the hospital.”

“Live in sin? Great.”

“After that, I planned on doing a three-year fellowship in pediatric oncology. I can do that in Minneapolis. As long as we’re together, I’m happy.”

They got to bed late that night. The lovers were desperate for each other, but with her parents there it was impossible, wasn’t it?

Kristen lay in her bed awake, hoping, praying he would come to her. By 12:30, she could wait no longer. She got out of bed, pulled up her night shirt, and took off her panties. She tiptoed to her door, wincing when the floor squeaked under her. As she reached for the doorknob, she heard a tap; a finger nail, she guessed. Her heart sped up. The doorknob turned, and the door opened a crack. It squeaked. She heard a whispered, “Shit,” and tittered. She reached out for his hand and heard a whispered, “I hope this isn’t a guard.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” she said, chuckling. She squeezed through the door and led him downstairs to the basement bedroom.

They gazed at each other with loving, yearning eyes. She lifted off her nightshirt and reveled in his gape. Stepping up to him, she yanked down his pants, then kissed him passionately while reaching down to grab his penis. She towed him to the bed, pushed him down on it, and straddled him. Smiling salaciously, she put one hand on his chest and grabbed his balls with the other. He gasped in pleasure.

His hands went for her bottom, his mouth for her breasts. Looking deep into her lover’s eyes, she slowly lowered herself on him. She moaned in ecstasy and cooed, “Welcome home.” He smiled. Starting with a leisurely grinding motion back and forth, she gradually accelerated and soon was thrusting wildly up and down on him. Both were so overcome with lust, they could last no more than two minutes before simultaneously erupting in the most explosive climax either would ever experience. She collapsed onto him, and both exclaimed breathlessly, “I love you!”

•

The next day, Lisa and Kristen made a celebratory supper. The scene at the table was one of pure joy. Finally all was right with the world. But then Robert’s cell phone rang. He answered. It was Jennifer, who said, “Hi, Bobby. I have something really important to tell you …”

“K
rissy! Krissy!” screamed Robert Owens as he struggled to sit up in his hospital bed, having aroused from his drug-induced sleep nine hours after an operation to save his life. “Krissy! Where’s Krissy? Is she dead? Krissy!” shrieked the panicked and disoriented man as a nurse and an orderly worked to calm him before he could tear apart his sutures and pull out his IV needle. They could see the terror in his eyes as he recalled the incident that put him here. A doctor rushed in to sedate him. “Krissy!”

The last thing he could remember was Kristen Taylor, the woman he loved, tugging desperately on his arms to drag him away from a crazed man who was intent on killing the two of them. Robert, who sustained a knife wound in subduing some gang members who had assaulted Kristen, was losing consciousness as he bled profusely. “Run Krissy!” he tried to scream, but it emerged as a murmur. She heard, but refused to abandon him to certain death as the armed man approached. With the animal but fifteen feet away, Kristen shielded Robert as he fainted.

“What happened to Krissy?” he asked the hospital workers. They couldn’t or wouldn’t answer. “Krissy!”

T
hrough the marvels of the written word, we regress four and a half years in time to a phone call Jennifer Taylor, Kristen’s cousin, made to Robert just hours after Kristen had accepted his marriage proposal. Sitting at the supper table with his betrothed and her family, he went white as Jennifer informed him she was pregnant with his child. She awaited his response, but he could say nothing, as shock had expropriated his voice. “What’s the matter?” said his fiancée. He couldn’t answer her either.