When Love Walks In. Suzanne Carey
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Cate whispered in Brenda’s ear. “It’s Danny. He’s here. Behind our team, standing next to Don Vandemore. I don’t want to run into him in front of all these people.”
To Cate’s chagrin, Brenda couldn’t stop herself from glancing in his direction. “You want me to drive Brian home?” she asked after a moment.
Cate shook her head. “Thanks. But no. He’s going out after the game with some of his teammates.…”
Just then, one of the opposing players fumbled, and everybody in the stands jumped to their feet. It looked as if Beckwith would get another chance at the ball in the closing seconds. Without another word to Brenda, Cate brushed past their neighbors as the officials conferred, and headed down the steps, keeping a perpendicular wall of bodies between her and Danny’s line of sight. By returning to the field early after dropping Brian off, she’d snagged a convenient parking place. In less than a minute she was behind the wheel of her hatchback, turning her key in the ignition.
She didn’t realize Danny had seen her leave until she was driving down the gravel track that led to the exit onto School Street and saw him in her rearview mirror. He was running after her, motioning for her to wait. Instead she pressed down on the gas pedal. It was only when she reached Beckwith’s somewhat diminished commercial area that she noticed she was almost out of fuel.
I doubt if he’s pursued me here, she thought, glancing into her rearview mirror and breathing what she told herself was a sigh of relief when his image wasn’t reflected there. It’s probably safe to stop at Miller’s and pump a few gallons. In the interest of composure and sanity, she didn’t stop to examine the regret she felt too closely.
Turning into the station-cum-garage where Danny had worked as a teenager, she pulled up to the gas pump and switched off the engine. She was about to lift the nozzle from its cradle preparatory to inserting it into her tank when a man’s hand grabbed it first. To her distress, it belonged to Dean Lawler, Brenda’s abusive soon-to-be-ex-husband. Unnoticed by her when she pulled in, his squad car was parked on the other side of the pumps. He was wearing his deputy’s uniform.
Didn’t he ever sleep?
“Let me do it for you, Cate,” he said, flashing her the kind of smile that bordered on a leer. “A pretty woman like you shouldn’t have to pump her own gas. You need a man in your life to perform that kind of service.”
It won’t ever be you, Cate retorted silently. I despise the kind of “help” you stand for. If dating you is my only option, I’ll gladly remain a wallflower.
Even before his breakup with Brenda, Dean had ogled Cate at every opportunity. It wouldn’t be long, she guessed, before she’d be the unwilling recipient of a proposition from him. Not to mention the object of his resentment when she turned it down. It occurred to her that she might have done better to remain at the stadium and take her chances with the inevitable gossip that would occur if her friends and neighbors saw her talking to Danny. Then again, in light of their concern about the plant and the chance that they’d mob him with questions about its future once the game was over, she might have managed to avoid speaking to him altogether.
Meanwhile, Dean was asking her how much gas she wanted.
“I’d rather pump my own, if you don’t mind,” she said.
As expected, he didn’t relinquish the nozzle. His offensive grin broadened to a full-fledged smirk.
“My treat,” he insisted grandly. “Shall I fill ’er up?”
The unspoken symbolism of the nozzle and the gas tank wasn’t lost on her. She wanted to slap his face. “Suit yourself,” she answered. “I’m going inside to use the rest room.”
By the time she emerged, he’d already paid. Meanwhile, circumstances had let her off the hook. He’d received a radio call from his dispatcher about a minor accident on Route 32.
“I’d like to stay and chat, but I’ve gotta go,” he said, taking his place behind the wheel of his squad car with obvious reluctance.
Aware she should thank him, she did so with reluctance.
“Don’t mention it,” he reassured her. “If you want, you can cook me a meal sometime. Know what, Cate? You look better every day. Unlike Brenda, you haven’t put on a pound since high school. When I’m shed of her, you and me are going to rock and roll.”
He was off with his roof lights flashing and his siren going, filled to the brim with self-importance before she could frame a retort.
“Not if we both live to be a hundred,” she told him silently.
The phone was ringing as she walked in her front door. Brenda, I suppose, she thought, racing to answer it.
“Hello?” she said a trifle breathlessly.
It was Danny. “Cate?” he asked. “Got a minute to talk?”
Her heart hammering against her rib cage, she answered in the affirmative.
She could feel him relax a little. “I was hoping to catch up with you at the game,” he said. “We really should exchange a few words. Find out how life’s been treating each other.”
To her relief, he didn’t take her to task for avoiding him. “All right,” she agreed, suddenly willing to do what he asked. She wondered if he planned to come over. It would be better if he didn’t. The sight of his car parked in her driveway would set tongues to wagging—and send her father’s blood pressure through the roof if he happened to spot it there. Yet she couldn’t think of anyplace else to suggest.
“Unfortunately, I have to fly back to Chicago to prepare for a Monday-morning board meeting,” he said, letting her off the hook. “So it can’t be today. I’ve chartered a small plane for convenience’s sake. I’ll be taking off from Ryersville Municipal later this afternoon. I should be able to make it back in plenty of time for Monday evening’s get-together. Meigs Field, Chicago’s lakefront general-aviation airport, is just a five-minute taxi ride from my office if the traffic isn’t too heavy.”
Overwhelmed by the fact that they were having an actual conversation and he was giving her a glimpse of his life, the way people did when they were connected in some way, Cate didn’t immediately catch the drift of what he was saying. “Monday evening’s get-together?” she echoed in a puzzled voice.
“The Save Our Jobs, Save Our Town meeting. I agreed to attend and answer questions from the townspeople. I was told you were on the committee.”
In fact, she was. She’d promised to take notes. Feeling like an idiot for being so focused on him that she couldn’t think straight, she confirmed his impression and explained what her role would be.
“Well, then,” he said, sounding a little more relaxed, “we can spend some time together afterward. Drive over to Ryersville for a beer if you want. It would give us a little more privacy.”
Apparently he didn’t relish the prospect of everyone in Beckwith looking over their shoulders any more than she did. Or a run-in with her father. Meanwhile, the warmth in his voice was giving her goose bumps.
“Okay?” he prodded when she didn’t answer him.
I’d be crazy to turn him down, considering the way I feel, she thought. When he walks out of my life again after making up his mind about the future of Beckwith Tool and Die, it’ll probably be for good. We won’t have any further reason to see each other.
“Okay,” she agreed.
She could almost picture the curve of his mouth, the little grooves that bracketed it.
“Then it’s a date,” he said, making no attempt to hide the satisfaction he felt. “I’m counting on you to keep it, Cate. Don’t disappoint me.”
If he’d kept his vows to me when we were kids, we wouldn’t be strangers now, she thought. Instead, we’d be husband and wife—lovers of long standing with several additional children to our