The Waiting Read online

  He had come back to Crescent Bluff searching. These last few years, the world would say he’d made it. Yet really, all he’d done was make a mess of it. He could have bought almost anything he wanted—and pretty much had. Yet it hadn’t been enough. Despite all the stuff, all the renown he’d accumulated, something was missing. And he’d come back to the place where life had first begun to see if he could find that meaning again.

  The band struck up a new song as couples filled the dance floor.

  Their conversation had been polite, shallow, since he’d made that comment in the car. He hadn’t intended to upset her. But ignoring her mother’s death would have been worse, like that proverbial elephant in the room that everyone pretended didn’t exist.

  She looked up from her plate and smiled. “Just as delicious as I remembered. Thanks for the suggestion, Sam.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it. But I’m somewhat disappointed that I didn’t get to try sushi again. Maybe next time.” He smiled.

  First her eyebrows raised, and then her forehead wrinkled in response. “Maybe.” She turned to watch the couples moving around the old concrete floor. Her sable eyes warmed as a slight smile rested on her face. “Wow, that couple in the straw hats is really good.”

  Ah-ha! He stood and moved in front of her. “Would you like to dance?” he asked, holding out his right hand.

  Her eyes opened wide. “Oh, I couldn’t. I don’t know how.”

  He left his hand extended. “I don’t believe that was the question. Would you like to dance?”

  She shook her head in response. “I mean, I might like to if I knew how, but I don’t. So I can’t.”

  Maybe dancing would break the ice. The date had been going downhill anyway. What did he have to lose? “Give me your hand. Let’s just go watch.”

  She bit her lip. “I don’t think so, Sam.”

  “OK, we’ll watch from here.” He sat back down. “They’re doing the Texas Two Step. I’m not the best dancer, but the basics are really pretty easy. Just ignore all those fancy turns and stuff. The couples move in a counter-clockwise direction around the floor, the man facing forward and the woman moving backward. Can you see?”

  She nodded.

  “Now the steps. The guy begins by stepping forward on his left foot while his partner steps back on her right. There are four steps, like this. Quick, quick, slow...slow. Quick, quick, slow...slow. Got it?” He repeated the sequence of steps while the couple in the hats continued and she watched. Her head nodded in time with his words.

  She turned toward him and smiled. “I see. It’s easier than I thought. All those other moves distracted me.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. Some of the steps can get pretty complicated. But the basics? They’re easy.” He stood up and faced her again. “So, Katherine, would you like to dance?” The music stopped as the band retuned for the next song. “Perfect timing.”

  “But what about your knee?” Her eyes opened wide as she bit her bottom lip again.

  His heart pounded. Nice! “My physical therapist will be extremely pleased.”

  “I don’t know. I hadn’t planned on dancing tonight.” Her face turned bright red.

  “Neither had I. Didn’t know we’d have the chance. Last time I was here, a Mariachi band played. Now trying to dance to that might hurt the knee.” As he moved his hand closer, she sighed.

  “I, uh, guess so.” She stood without giving him her hand. “Lead on.”

  When they reached the dance floor, he led her to the outer perimeter, turned, and held out both hands. “We can start by holding hands instead of in the traditional dance position. That way you can see your feet if you need to.”

  As she faced him, he grasped her hands. They were clammy. He squeezed them and then gently shook them up and down. “Relax. It’ll be fun. Just remember to start by stepping back with your right foot.”

  As the music began, he moved her hands in time to the cadence of the steps. “Quick, quick, slow...slow. Quick, quick, slow...slow.”

  As she repeated his words, she looked into his eyes, and he saw fear. “Quick, quick, slow...slow. Quick, quick, slow...slow.”

  “OK, here we go.” As he stepped forward, she stepped back, and they began moving around the floor. Her brow wrinkled as she continued to repeat the cadence under her breath.

  He remained quiet so he wouldn’t interrupt her concentration.

  About halfway through the song, her face relaxed as she looked into his eyes and smiled. “I think I got it,” she said. “You were right. It’s really pretty easy.”

  He winked. “Told you. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.” She was ready, so he let go of her left hand, placed his right hand high on her back, and gently pulled her into a more traditional Two Step posture. When she widened her eyes, he leaned close to speak into her ear. She smelled great. Even better than that night in high school. Hard to believe he still remembered. “Now, no one will think I’m a beginner.”

  She rolled her eyes. Her movements were more wooden than when they’d been holding hands earlier. Plus, she was pulling him. He moved his right hand from her back and grasped her left hand. “Let’s go back to this. I think it’s better.”

  After a few more passes around the dance floor, the band transitioned into a slower song and the dancers moved into slow-dance position. She stepped away, but he held her hand tight. “How about one more? Nothing complicated about a slow dance.”

  “Thanks, but I need to pass. I’m kind of tired. In fact, I think I’m getting a headache.” She looked down at her watch and then back up into his face. “It’s later than I thought. I probably should be getting home soon. I’ve got an early day tomorrow.” She looked away.

  Although it had rarely happened, he knew a brush-off when he got one. He’d definitely broken the ice—and gotten sucked all the way down to the bottom in the process. Yep, he was drowning in frigid water. “Sure. Me, too. You’re probably right. We should head home.”

  ~*~

  Katherine waited while Sam opened her car door. Her breathing quickened as she stepped onto the driveway and he followed her to the kitchen steps. Time for the awkward good night. He’d better not try to kiss her. Turning to face him, she took a deep breath. “I had a nice time, Sam. Thanks so much for dinner...and the Two Step lesson.”

  Only his thumbs showed as he jammed his hands into his front pockets and smiled. “Sure. I needed the practice. It’s been awhile. You did great, by the way.” The porch light reflected off his bald head. “Oh, and thanks for choosing Tex-Mex instead of sushi.”

  She climbed the first step and then turned back to look at him. “You’re welcome. Good night, Sam. Thanks again.”

  He hadn’t moved. “Good night, Katherine.”

  She moved up one more step. “Bye. I, uh, guess I’ll see you around.”

  He nodded. “I would imagine so. Crescent Bluff’s a small town.” He still didn’t move.

  She smiled, but he remained motionless. “Is there something you need?”

  “Only for you to go inside. Can’t leave a lady on the doorstep.” He crossed his arms over his chest and grinned.

  Her face and neck burned. “Oh, sure. Of course. Good night. Again.” He probably thought she was some sort of socially inept idiot.

  As Katherine stepped into the kitchen and closed the door, the rich aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies greeted her. She looked toward the overstuffed, blue toile chair in the family room where Mom should have been sitting, but it was empty. The cookies had to be slice and bake.

  A deep-throated hum signaled Sam’s departure, and Dad walked into the kitchen from the dining room. “Hi, sweetie.”

  She moved close, pulled him into a hug, and placed her head on his chest. “Daddy, you didn’t have to make cookies.” A lump formed in her throat as she looked up into his face.

  His eyes reddened. He was trying so hard to soften the blow of their loss. Breathing deeply, he kissed her on the top of her head. His words were whispered.
“Your mother loved the postdate recap. No way am I breaking the tradition.” He pulled out a stool and sat at the island.

  “I’ll get the milk.” She couldn’t remember a time when she’d come in from a date that Mom hadn’t met her with freshly baked cookies and cold milk. One of the few areas of life in which she’d been consistent.

  The summer after her freshman year in college, Katherine had finally figured out that the after-date cookies were Mom’s way of snooping. And it had always worked. If it hadn’t been for chocolate chips, she’d have gone straight to bed, and by the morning, the excitement would have waned, and the shared facts would have been edited down.

  Mom had been a smart woman.

  Katherine set the glasses of milk down and perched on the stool next to Dad.

  He popped a cookie into his mouth. “So how was the evening with James?” He smiled.

  “What? Dad, his name is—”

  “Bond...James Bond.” He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side.

  Sam looked absolutely nothing like James Bond—any of them.

  He slowly shook his head. “The car, Katherine, the car. He’s driving the same kind of car 007 drives. Nice set of wheels.” His eyes suddenly widened. “I wasn’t spying or anything. I, uh, just had to look out the window when I heard the sound of that engine.” He’d always liked expensive, exotic, foreign cars, although he’d never owned one.

  “The date was fine, Dad. We went to dinner at The Cantina.” She nibbled on a cookie. Two was all she’d allow herself. When she was younger, she hadn’t had to watch her weight. But now she needed to be careful. She couldn’t hurt her father’s feelings, though. “The cookies are delicious.”

  “So, did you like him? James Bond? What did you think?”

  Be gentle. “It’s hard to tell much from one date, Dad. He seems to be a nice man. I’m just not sure how much we have in common. And in all honesty, he’s really not my type.”

  “Give him a chance, Katherine. Give him a chance.” He placed a stack of cookies on his napkin. “So tell me about the car. Any machine guns or heat-seeking missiles behind the grill?”

  “Oh, Dad,” she laughed. “It was fast.”

  Minutes later, Katherine picked up the black embossed notebook from her nightstand that Dad had given her for Christmas and opened it to today’s list. She put a check mark beside the final entry—Blind Date. Done. Turning the page, she read over tomorrow’s list. Devotion; Snacks and Drinks; Soccer Game; Store; Revise Resume; Gym; Unpack. After Store she inserted Plastic Tubs and Organize Closet.

  Somebody—probably Cassie—had moved the vase of tulips from the kitchen to her dresser. Tulips had always been one of her favorite flowers. Interesting that Sam chose them over roses or a more traditional “date” flower. Maybe someone had told him. Or maybe they were on sale at the grocery store.

  She turned off the lamp and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark. Her body begged to sleep, but her mind replayed tonight’s date. Something about it really weighed on her, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint what. After all, it hadn’t been so bad...for a blind date, especially. Sam seemed like a nice enough guy, and he would have been OK looking if he’d had some hair.

  But he didn’t match her ideal man. The One. Maybe that was it.

  Yes. She breathed slowly to calm herself.

  No. He hadn’t even tried to kiss her good night. Hadn’t even acted as if he’d wanted to. While she wouldn’t have let him, of course, just knowing he’d wanted to, that he was attracted to her, would have been flattering.

  But then, maybe he hadn’t wanted to go out on the date any more than she had. Maybe he’d gone out of respect for his aunt as she had for her father. Her eyes burned with tears of disappointment. As she rolled over onto her side, she snuggled into the familiar cocoon of Nana Herrington’s lone star quilt and pulled her knees up. Why did she even care?

  As a tear escaped down her cheek, she grabbed a tissue from the box on the nightstand and dabbed her cheeks. Well, tonight she and Sam had both fulfilled their responsibilities. The date was over, and she could get on with her life. She’d never have to see, much less go out with, him again.

  At least one thing about tonight was certain.

  He absolutely wasn’t The One.

  3

  Katherine walked the entire length of the soccer complex from the concession stand to the far field. How could Cassie have forgotten something as basic as her water bottle? She was just like Mom had been—disorganized and distracted. Well, at least water could be bought here at the field. Last week they’d had to turn around and go back home for her cleats. Her cleats, of all things!

  She’d been Cassie’s age when she’d started keeping lists, and that had changed her life. When she went to the store today, she’d buy Cassie a notebook and help her get organized.

  The team ran warm-up drills as Katherine set the water by Cassie’s gym bag and walked over to Dad. Flopping down into the folding chair next to his, she sighed, “I hope four bottles is enough.”

  “I’m sure it will be, Katherine. Thanks. You’re a good big sister.” He reached over and patted her on the knee.

  She should be more patient with Cassie.

  “Hey,” he continued, “I hear Brad Thompson’s brought on some new consultant to help finish out the year. Rumor has it he’s a pro from England.”

  Katherine looked across the field to the far end. A third man had joined Brad and John on the sidelines. He was dressed in black soccer shorts, socks and cleats, and a black and red warm-up jacket with a white crest on the back embellished with red letters—FFC. His hood covered his head.

  “Dad, I can’t imagine that’s true. They may have gotten someone to help, but what professional soccer player would come half way around the world to a little town like Crescent Bluff to help coach a girls’ soccer team?”

  He nodded his head across the field and chuckled. “Either way, your sister seems excited.”

  Facing their direction, Cassie waved both hands above her head, pointed toward the black-hooded coach, and gave two thumbs up. When she poked him in the middle of the crest, he turned around to face across the field. Cassie pointed in their direction.

  The guest coach pulled his hood down to reveal a hairless head. He smiled and waved.

  Heart pounding, Katherine gasped.

  “What is it?” Dad leaned forward and stared at her. “Are you OK?”

  “It’s him.”

  “Who?”

  She pointed and responded with an obligatory wave. “Him...James Bond.”

  ~*~

  For the next few minutes, as much as Katherine tried, concentrating on the game proved almost impossible. Her eyes continually strayed from the players...to the sidelines...to Sam.

  Standing with his arms crossed, he appeared to be a casual observer with no more, maybe even less, interest than she or her father had. While Brad and John coached from the sidelines, Sam watched, offering no comments. A fan, no doubt, but certainly not a professional soccer player. He was in public relations, or so he’d said last night. Oh, well, that’s how rumors got started.

  At the end of the first half, their best defender turned her ankle when she tried to stop an attack.

  As she hobbled to the sidelines, it didn’t take a medical license to know she was finished for the day.

  After Brad, John, and even Sam had a brief meeting, Sam pulled Cassie aside and talked with her.

  When the team returned to the field, Cassie was in the back in the place of the injured player. Cassie had always played midfield because that was, as Brad said, “the most forgiving position.” She was a good player when she concentrated on the game, she just wasn’t as intense as most of the other girls. She played for fun, not blood. Past coaches had always said she had great potential if she’d only apply herself.

  The last half of the game would not be good.

  “Hey, look at your sister. They’ve moved her to fullback. This should be interesting.�
� Dad raised his eyebrows and chuckled.

  Disastrous was a better word. Cassie was too easily distracted to be the last person before the goalkeeper.

  As Cassie turned toward Katherine and her father, her face was red and her eyes as big as saucers. She clenched her jaw and raised her eyebrows. Her mouth formed a word. Yikes. Then she turned in Sam’s direction.

  He held up a “you-can-do-it” fist, smiled, and nodded.

  Forty-five minutes later when the ref blew the final whistle and the teams lined up for the routine “good game” high fives, the opposing team’s score was the same as it had been at the half. They’d scored no more goals. Cassie’s team had won, and she’d had been a wild woman.

  Katherine had never seen her play like that in all ten years of her soccer life.

  Congratulations complete, Cassie ran over to Sam and chest-bumped him. Oh, dear. They’d have a talk about that later. Sam was a man, not one of Cassie’s contemporaries or friends. Next Cassie held her hand up for a high five, and he responded by slapping her hand and then momentarily closing his fingers around hers.

  Katherine’s right hand tingled as the memories of last night’s Two Step and Sam’s continuing to hold her hand as he’d invited her to slow dance suddenly replaced the scene across the field. On the dance floor, she’d been so worried about counting steps to avoid making a fool of herself, she really hadn’t relaxed and enjoyed their dance. She’d wanted to leave as a victor over the Two Step. But now that she was out of the moment, the remembrance flooded her with warmth. An involuntary giggle escaped.

  “What’s so funny, Katherine?” Dad smiled, his eyes sparkling in anticipation.

  She cleared her throat. “Nothing.”

  ~*~

  “Great playing, young lady.” Sam dropped Cassie’s hand. “Knew you could do it.” What a surprise to see her this morning. He hadn’t thought to ask her what team she’d played for when they were talking last night before Katherine came out.

  “Thanks, Sam. C’mon, I want you to meet my dad. And I’m sure Beth would like to see you.” She winked and then trotted off across the field.