The Rocky Road to Romance

Chapter 8

Daisy wasn’t sure about the roller coaster. It was one of those high-tech things that curved and looped and catapulted screaming people along a gleaming rail high overhead. An amusement park had sounded like a good idea an hour ago, while they were still en route, but now that she was standing in line she wasn’t sure. It had been a long time since she’d ridden a roller coaster. And she’d never ridden anything like this. She held tight to Steve’s hand and gnawed at her lower lip.

“You okay?” Steve asked. “You look a little pale.”

“It’s just that I’m having so much fun.”

“Maybe we should start off with something smaller.”

Schmidt was standing behind them. His face was tanned, but under the tan he was as pale as Daisy. “Yeah, it might not be a bad idea to start off with something smaller. It isn’t that I’m afraid to do this, but-” A string of cars rocketed past them. “Holy cripes,” Schmidt said, “you have to be nuts to do this!”

Steve was having second thoughts, too. Now he remembered why he avoided this for fifteen years. It was because he had no patience with waiting his turn. “It doesn’t seem right that we should force Officer Schmidt to do this in the line of duty,” he said.

Daisy agreed. It didn’t seem right. “And look how he’s sweating in that jacket,” she said. “We should go buy him something cool to drink. We wouldn’t want him to get dehydrated.”

“Bunch of wimps,” Elsie said. “You go ahead, and Kevin and me’ll meet up with you later.”

They got sodas and Schmidt and his partner dropped behind. “Just pretend we aren’t here,” Schmidt said. “And if you don’t go on any more roller coasters, I’ll do you a favor. I’ll see what I can do about having the old lady committed. I’ve got friends in high places.”

“She doesn’t belong to us,” Daisy told him. “We just hired her to be my bodyguard until the Roach is convicted.”

“You mean she was telling the truth? You actually hired her?”

Steve reached for Daisy’s hand. “I’m going to do my best to ignore him.”

She felt heat flood through her when he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. They were following a macadam path that was bordered by flowers and led to more rides. It was a sunny weekend, and the park was crowded with kids and their parents and hordes of teenagers, but in the middle of this sea of bustling humanity they were alone, Daisy thought. People smiled but didn’t stare, didn’t recognize. Everyone was self-absorbed, unwavering in their pursuit of fun. That was perfect, she decided. She enjoyed the intimacy of walking hand in hand with Steve.

They had a strange relationship, she decided. Desire had come before love, although love had quickly followed. The depth of the love she wasn’t able to determine. She was smart enough to know that there were lots of kinds, and falling in love was different from truly loving someone. For now she knew she’d fallen in love, and she intended to keep it at that level. In her mind it didn’t seem to be such a serious emotion. It wasn’t her first experience with infatuation, she told herself. She’d been enamored of other men. She supposed she’d had her heart broken a few times, but she’d never died of it. Actually, if she was to be completely honest, she couldn’t really say her heart had ever been broken-cracked perhaps.

She finished her soda and munched on leftover ice. Music spilled from hidden speakers, mingling with the clatter and roar of the roller coasters. “I think I’m going on sensory overload,” she said to Steve.

“Do you hate it?”

“No, I love it! I have to admit I’m not keen on roller coasters, but I love being here. I like the food and the noise and the people. And I love the colors and the speed of the rides. I want to stay late so I can see the lights go on. Can we do that?”

“We can stay here as long as you want-un-less the soles start to melt on my shoes. If that happens, I might be inclined to pack it in.”

Daisy lifted the hair off the back of her neck in silent agreement. The day was hot, with the kind of heat found only in an amusement park. Heat that baked off the pavement and prickled on bare arms. Heat that provoked cravings for ice cream and lemonade and the cool shade of the pavilions where more elaborate food was sold. “I should have put my hair up,” she said. “I’d give my kingdom for a scrunchie.”

“I don’t think it’s necessary to hock your kingdom for one,” Steve said. “Twenty dollars should be more than enough.” He waved a twenty in front of a group of teenage girls. “Anyone want to trade this for a scrunchie?”

Three of them furiously worked at their ponytails and he took the first that was placed in his hand. He turned it over to Daisy. “Wouldn’t want you to think the heir to the Crow oil fortune was a piker when it came to your comfort.”

Daisy swept the hair back from her face and bound it up. “Does an oil-fortune heir spend lots of time at amusement parks?”

“Last time I went to an amusement park was when I was seventeen. I took Jessica Mae Stiller on the roller coaster, and she got so scared she wet her pants.”

“How about you? Were you scared?”

“Yeah, but at that point in my life I thought being scared was cool… and being cool was everything. Fortunately, I had better control over body functions than Jessica Mae.”

Daisy wondered what other body functions Jessica Mae had trouble controlling. “So what happened to this hussy?”

“I think she changed schools, had plastic surgery, and moved out of town.”

“Can’t blame her,” Daisy said.

He bought her a hot dog and a lemonade, and they sat on a bench, watching people pour along the path in front of them. Daisy ripped off chunks of hot dog and chewed. “You think all these people know where they’re going?”

“Sure, they’re headed for the water rides.”

“I mean in life.”

Steve raised his eyebrows.

“They look like they all know, don’t they? All these people look so sure of themselves.”

“Is this leading somewhere?”

She looked at the napkin in her hand. “Did I eat my hot dog?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Damn.”

“I get the feeling there’s something bothering you.”

“It’s my life,” she said. “My life is bothering me.”

“That narrows it down.”

“And it’s all your fault. You’re a bad influence. You’ve got me having fun.”

“Want to run that by me again?”

“I haven’t the least inclination to go home and work on my thesis.”

“Honey, there’s nothing wrong with taking a day off once in a while…”

“No. You don’t understand. Not once in a while. I’m talking permanent. I’m not inclined to go work on my dissertation ever. I hate my dissertation. Haven’t you noticed how easily I’m distracted?”

“I attributed that to my extraordinary powers of persuasion and my mind-numbing sex appeal.”

“There’s that, too.” She looked around and flapped her arms. “Maybe I’ll just chuck it and get a job here. I could sell sno-cones or take tickets on the merry-go-round.”

He twirled his finger around a tendril of hair that had escaped the ponytail. “The merry-go-round doesn’t sound so bad, but I don’t think you’d be happy retailing crushed ice all day.”

“Lately I’m not at all sure what would make me happy.”

“Sounds serious.”

“I’ve always had direction to my life. I always knew exactly what I wanted. I always had a goal.”

“And now?”

She gave her head a little shake. “You ever have a thought that’s so frightening you’re afraid to say it out loud?” Her eyes locked with his. “I’m in the final stage of my dissertation. This time next year I’ll have my doctorate… and I don’t care anymore. I haven’t really cared for months, maybe years, but I’ve been afraid to admit it. Somewhere along the line I lost touch with myself. I was so busy working to reach my goal that I didn’t realize the goal was no longer something I truly wanted.”

It was hard for him to believe she didn’t want to pursue a career in geriatric counseling. Until this moment she’d seemed so dedicated, so enthusiastic about it. “Maybe you’re just tired.”

Daisy sighed. She couldn’t deny she was tired. She went through the motions and made a lot of energetic noise, but underneath it all she was weary. It had come on her gradually, and if it hadn’t been for Steve Crow, she might not have noticed it at all. Steve provided the contrast that made her see the picture more clearly.

She wasn’t tired today. And she hadn’t been tired on the kitchen table. She had enough stamina to run a twenty-eight-year-old cop into the ground. But she could barely keep her mind from wandering when she sat down to write and edit.

“Maybe you’re right,” she said, sending him a weak smile in apology and embarrassment. “Sorry I turned weird on you, but I was sitting here watching the people go by, and suddenly I was just about knocked over with a flash of insight. I suppose it had been lurking in my mind for a long time, and I’d never before let down my guard enough for it to surface. It was like the lid to Pandora’s box unexpectedly flying open and having the ugly truth pop out at me.”

“Do you really hate your dissertation?”

“I hate working on it.”

“Ah-hah.”

“What ah-hah? You aren’t going to tell me it’s PMS, are you?”

“That would be insulting. Only women can make remarks like that.”

“So what then?”

She was genuinely hurting, he realized. Under all the assertive confidence was a scrap of self-doubt. And she was obviously horrified that she’d blurted out her discovery to him. He suspected she needed time to get used to the idea herself before she could comfortably discuss it with someone else. He wanted to give her that time. He wanted to make her smile and push her responsibilities aside for a day.

“It’s very simple,” he said. “It’s all stress-related. You just need to relax.” His eyes grew lazy. His mouth quirked into a teasing smile. “You need to spend more time on the kitchen table.”

Daisy gratefully followed his lead back to playful flirting and tried to look thoughtful. “You could be right. I’ve been sexually deprived for most of my adult life. It could be catching up to me.”

“Exactly. If we concentrated very hard on this problem, we could have it solved in no time.”

“It’s worth a try,” Daisy said. “How long do you think it will take?”

“Depends how hard we concentrate.”

“I wouldn’t want to injure you.”

“I’m insured.”

“Lloyds of London?”

“Blue Cross of Virginia.”

At five-thirty they met Kevin and Elsie. Elsie’s red Converse high-top All Stars were soaked, her hat was off, and her hair looked like it had been styled and spray-starched by Don King.

“Water rides,” Elsie said. “They were a blast.” She shifted her eyes to Schmidt and his partner. They were standing at a distance, watching from the shade of a Belgian waffle stand. “I feel kind of guilty having all this fun when I’m supposed to be protecting you. Of course, I suppose we have to have someone watching out for Kevin, too. We wouldn’t want him kidnapped or nothing.”

“Man, this is the best day of my life,” Kevin said. “We got the front seat on the Rebel Yell. Then Elsie showed me how to make the old-time cars stall so that we held up the whole ride and the attendant had to come give us a push. You should have been there, Daisy. Some big guy with a beer can tattooed on his forehead tried to muscle in ahead of us on the bumper cars and Elsie told him if he didn’t watch his manners, she was gonna hurt him real bad!”

“I don’t put up with bad manners,” Elsie said.

Daisy and Steve nervously glanced at the pocketbook hanging on Elsie’s arm.

“You didn’t have to use your pocketbook, did you?” Daisy asked.

“Nope.Haven’t used my pocketbook all day.Too bad, too. I’m feeling in top form, but the opportunity hasn’t presented itself yet.”

“Well, the day isn’t over,” Steve said.

Daisy elbowed him hard in the ribs. “I think it’s best if you avoid using your pocketbook,” she said to Elsie. “Too many kids running around.”

“You’re probably right. We’re having a good time anyway, aren’t we, Kevin?”

“Yeah,” Kevin said. “The best part was when Elsie lost her false teeth.”

“Opened my mouth to yell on the Berserker and they fell right out,” Elsie said. “Was the darnedest thing. Lucky the lady in front of me caught them.”

“She didn’t catch them,” Kevin said. “They snagged onto her hair.”

“It’s true,” Elsie agreed. “I’ve never seen anything like it. She had hair out to here. Don’t know how she ever got it that way. And the teeth just kind of caught hold in all that frizz.”

They left the park at nine-thirty. Kevin and Elsie instantly fell asleep in the backseat, and Daisy sat in the front with her hands locked in her lap, trying to maintain some control over herself. She wasn’t sure what the hands would do if left to their own devices. She was afraid they’d do something silly and corny, like reach for a star. And she knew for certain that they’d eventually gravitate to something a lot closer and much more substantial.

“I’m glad we went on that roller coaster just before leaving,” she said. “It was great.”

“You’re made of stern stuff.”

“Don’t ever forget it.”

He looked in the rearview mirror to make sure Schmidt’s headlights were still steady behind him. “You’re made of sterner stuff than Schmidt.”

“I really felt sorry for him when he got sick on his shoe. Do you think he gets a bonus for that sort of thing? You know, hazardous duty?”

“It was his own fault. He ate nine hot dogs today.”

“It’s hard to believe we’re going back to a house that’s been firebombed. It seems like it happened years ago.”

Steve reached over for her hand. “You have to be careful for a while.”

Good advice, she decided. She had to be careful about lots of things. Steve Crow was at the head of the list. He was a hard man to resist, especially when she didn’t want to resist in the first place. The truth is, she’d like nothing better than to go home and crawl into his bed for the night. Unfortunately, her little brother was underfoot. He was at an impressionable age, and she had no intention of setting a bad example for him. Her parents were due home at the end of the week, and she was almost done with her thesis. If she could just hang on a little bit longer…

If she hadn’t been so lost in thought, she might have seen the car pull alongside. As it was, the first collision came as a shock. She felt herself jerked against the seat belt, heard the impact against the passenger-side door. Her hands reached out to the dash. Her mouth opened to scream.

Beside her Steve swore and fought to keep the car from veering into the median guardrail. They were on Interstate 95, outside of Woodbridge, and traffic was moder-ate-enough cars that a driver had to be aware, not so many cars that it was impossible to get run off the road. The car came at them again, and Daisy could hear the throaty roar of the V-8 as it pulled alongside. It was an old Cadillac, bigger and heavier than the SUV, and she realized the driver was jockeying for another hit.

Daisy instinctively moved left to be away from the door, her heart beating a painful staccato in her chest, her lungs burning with each breath. She turned to see if Schmidt was still behind them, but panic blurred her vision.

“What the devil’s going on?” Elsie said, coming awake.

The car rammed them again, this time forcing them into the cement abutment that divided the highway, and there was the sickening sound of metal being ripped away before Steve was able to regain control.

“You son of a dog!” Elsie shouted at the Cadillac. “You got a lot of nerve waking me up.” The SUV reverberated with a blast from Elsie’s forty-five. The side window shattered, and Elsie knocked the rest of the glass out with the barrel of the gun. “Don’t lose him,” she said to Steve. “I might not have got him good enough with that one. I don’t usually aim for cars.” She leaned out the window and blasted away.

The Cadillac took off, weaving across a lane of traffic. Schmidt was close behind with a portable flasher clipped to his roof.

“He’ll never catch him,” Elsie said, settling back in her seat. “That guy’s got a Caddie, just like mine. You can’t beat them Cadillacs.”

Schmidt’s replacement was waiting for them when they pulled into Steve’s driveway. “Looks like you’ve been in the demolition derby,” he said to Steve.

“Had a little problem on the way home.”

The man nodded. “I just spoke to Schmidt. They lost the guy at the Route 1 exit.”

“I’m not surprised,” Elsie said. “He was driving a Cadillac.”

“It was probably stolen,” the detective said.

“We got a make on it. Belongs to someone named Elsie Hawkins.”

There was dead silence while everyone turned to look at the curb where Elsie’s Cadillac had been parked.

“If that don’t beat all,” Elsie said. “I’ve been shooting at my own car. I thought it looked familiar.”

Steve thought stealing Elsie’s car to run Daisy off the road showed a certain amount of creativity and a definite flare for the dramatic. It was almost as if this guy wanted publicity.

“Well I’m pretty upset,” Elsie said. “I was real attached to that car. I’m gonna go make myself a cup of tea and try to calm down or I’m gonna need a blood pressure pill.”

Kevin followed her into the house. “I’m going to call Noogie Macon and Billy Searles. They’re not going to believe this. This has been so awesome. They thought it was something when the house got bombed… wait’ll I tell them I’ve been in a shoot-out. They’re gonna be so-o-o-o impressed.”

Steve and Daisy exchanged glances. “I need a drink,” Steve said. “Not tea.”

He went to the sideboard in the dining room and poured brandy into two crystal goblets. He handed one to Daisy and hooked an arm around her shoulders. “I’m going to invite you into my room for an hour of television and conversation. We’ll leave the door open so no one under the age of fifteen gets the wrong idea, and we’ll get quietly snockered.”

Bob followed them up the stairs, and the three of them climbed onto Steve’s bed. Steve zapped the television on with the remote and lifted his glass. “We need a toast. To a day well done.”

“To fun.”

“To soft ice cream.”

“To roller coasters in the dark.”

He patted Bob on the head. “To man’s best friend.”

“To toasters, flush toilets, adhesive tape, and the electric light.” They clinked glasses and sipped their brandy.

“I’m not much of a drinker,” Daisy said. “This stuff is scalding my stomach and making me feel very friendly.”

“It’s supposed to relax you.”

“It’s making the backs of my knees sweat.”

His gaze moved to the open door. He could have it closed and locked and be back on the bed in less than five seconds. If he ran downstairs to get more brandy, he could be back on the bed in fifteen seconds, twenty tops. He wondered if her knees would cool off in twenty seconds. Probably not. He watched her take another sip and knew he was going to leave the door open.

The first time they’d made love it was a groping match on the family room floor, the second time he’d hauled her onto the kitchen table. He wanted to do better for her. He wanted soft lights, lots of time, and he wanted to wake up next to her in the morning.

She moved closer, snuggling into the circle of his arms, and his heart ached with longing, not just to make love to her, but to care for her, share with her, to link his life permanently with hers. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair, thinking that being in love was downright painful. And to make matters worse, someone was trying to kill Daisy.

Actually, he still wasn’t completely convinced the man was trying to kill her. It seemed to Steve that the guy was trying to scare her and didn’t mind hurting her, or anyone else, in the process. In his own mind he’d ruled out the Roach. The Roach was a businessman. He wasn’t crazy, and he had nothing to gain by terrorizing Daisy. In fact, he had a lot to lose. His trial was coming up. The kind of press he was getting wasn’t going to help his cause. He’d threatened Daisy in a moment of anger, but there was no good reason to carry out that threat.

Daisy turned to Steve and eyed him critically. He’d wandered off on her. He was holding her snug against himself, but he was lost in thought. “You want to share those thoughts?”

“I was thinking about the guy who’s harassing you. Everyone automatically assumed it was the Roach or someone acting on his behalf, but I’m not so sure anymore.”

Daisy murmured agreement. “It would only compound his problems.”

“This seems like a dumb question, but do you have any enemies? Can you think of anyone who’d use this as an excuse to victimize you?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been down this road, too. I have to admit I can be pretty aggressive when I want something, but I don’t think I’ve ever stepped on anyone’s toes hard enough to provoke mayhem.”

“How about your fan mail? You get hate letters from cat lovers? You get indecent proposals from weirdos?”

“Nothing that stands out in my mind. I keep all the letters on file. Maybe it would be worthwhile to go over them.”

“Anything like this ever happen to you before? Obscene phone calls?”

“Nope.”

They lapsed into silence.

“I had some other thoughts, too,” Steve finally said. “I was thinking about locking the door and having my way with you.”

“What stopped you?”

“Kevin, Elsie, the kitchen table.”

“The kitchen table?”

He grinned. “It gets complicated.”

“I know all about complicated. The harder I try to get my life in order, the more jumbled it becomes.”

He traced a line along her lower lip with his fingertip. “I know a way to simplify things. I know how to take care of Kevin, Elsie, the kitchen table, and Aunt Zena. I can solve all of your financial problems and guarantee you a dramatic increase in fun time. And as a special bonus I’ll even throw in a dog.”

She hoped he was talking about a raise, but panic in the pit of her stomach told her otherwise. He was going to say the L word, maybe even the M word. She still wasn’t ready for that part of the alphabet. She didn’t even want to contemplate it. Being in love was one thing… being loved was another. “I don’t think I’m ready for a dog.”

“Are you kidding? Dogs are terrific. You can count on a dog.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to count on a dog, because if you count on a dog, then that dog counts on you, and I’m looking forward to a time when nothing counts on me. I need to think. I need to decide what I want to do with my life.”

“I can give you time,” Steve said. “I can give you security, comfort, companionship, great sex, walk-in closets, roll-over checking…”

“I don’t need walk-in closets. I don’t have many clothes.”

He ran his hand through his hair. This wasn’t going well. “I can give you clothes, dammit. All the clothes you want.”

“I don’t want clothes. I want-” She didn’t know exactly what she wanted, she realized. She wanted everything. She wanted Steve and all of the things he’d offered her. And she wanted nothing. She wanted her life to be a big, blank, glorious void. She wanted to sleep, and stare off into space for hours at a time, without a thought in her head. “I’m not sure what I want,” she told him.

He let her long, silky hair sift through his fingers. “I know what I want. I want you.” He tilted her head up, compelling her to look at him. “I love you, Daisy. I want to marry you.”

She thought back to the lighthearted proposal he’d made after they’d made love on the family room floor. She’d been able to pass that one off with a giggle. This proposal would require a serious answer, and the terrible truth was that she didn’t want to get married. Marriage was commitment and responsibility. It was an investment of time and emotion. Marriage was planning what to have for supper 365 days a year. If she was married for forty years, that would be 14,600 meals. She almost lost consciousness at the thought of it.

“No!” she said, jumping off the bed. “I don’t want to get married. I’m too young. I’m too confused. I’ve just devoted five years of my life to something that depresses me. It’s because I was in a formative stage when I decided to go to graduate school. And probably I’m still formative. At least a doctorate program is only five years… marriage is for a lifetime. It’s irrevocable. It’s like getting your ears pierced.”

Elsie appeared in the open door. She had her bathrobe on and a toothbrush in her hand. “What’s all the shouting about in here? I was in the bathroom, and I heard someone yelling. You don’t need me to go get my pocketbook, do you?”

“No,” Steve said. “I asked Daisy to marry me, and she got a little overwhelmed.”

“I’d get overwhelmed, too,” Elsie said. “You’re a real catch.”

“Thanks,” Steve said. “Have you ever been married, Elsie?”

“Sure. I’ve been married lots of times. I was married to my first husband for thirty-seven years. He passed away, then I married Myron Fogel. He was a handsome devil, but he made noise at the breakfast table, so I divorced him. I know it was picky of me, but I couldn’t take another minute of him slurping his cereal milk. After that there was Gus. He had a heart attack. It was Gus who left me the Caddie. I was engaged to a real live one in Vermont when I broke my hip. I came down here to be near my sister while I was in rehab, and Wilma Nelson wrote and told me that the old coot I was engaged to had been taking other women to the bingo game in Mt.Pleasant. I guess I know what that means, so I sent him his ring back. It never fit right anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” Daisy said.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Elsie told her.

“At my age you never expect to keep a man for long anyway. Men my age are dropping dead like flies.”

Daisy finished the last of her brandy and set the glass on the television. “I have to go,” she said. “I have to get up early tomorrow. I don’t have the paper route anymore, but I still have to cross the children.”