The Rocky Road to Romance

Chapter 10

Steve watched Daisy drag her belongings down the stairs and pile them up in the foyer. “So you’re still determined to move back into your town house.”

“Yup.”

“I was only kidding about the waffle iron.”

“This has nothing to do with the waffle iron. This has to do with breathing space, making intelligent decisions, being self-reliant.”

Tonight’s dinner was proof absolute that she had to get away from Steve. She wasn’t a rational person when she was around him. She had only to look at her ring finger to be reminded of that fact. Steve’s parents had left an hour ago, and the ring was growing heavier and heavier. The confused joy she’d first felt was fast turning to gloomy disbelief. How could she possibly have managed to get herself engaged? She’d been so determined not to let this happen, and now she was dragging a diamond the size of MountMcKinley around on her finger.

“How about breakfast?” Steve asked. “Will you be over for breakfast?”

Kevin’s face brightened. “Yeah, we’ll be here for breakfast.”

“Breakfast would be nice,” Elsie admitted. “I wouldn’t mind stopping in for breakfast.”

“You’re being sneaky again,” Daisy said to Steve.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

By the end of the week Daisy was forced to admit it didn’t matter which house she lived in-she couldn’t get away from Steve. She’d had to rely on him for transportation since the two stolen cars had never turned up. In addition, he lured her fickle brother and bodyguard to his house with food, rented movies, a new pool table, dartboard, and pinball machine. There were late-night poker games, gourmet picnic lunches in the park, and midnight pizza orgies.

In her weaker moments Daisy had to concede she was thoroughly enjoying herself. During more somber times she referred to her calendar and grimly added up the days when she hadn’t worked on her dissertation or put in hours at the nursing home.

That was okay, she told herself. Everybody deserves a vacation once in a while, and hers was about to end. It was Friday. There hadn’t been any incidents since last Sunday, and the police were talking about ending her round-the-clock protection tomorrow. Tomorrow was also the day her parents were due to arrive home.

By this time tomorrow night she’d be alone in her town house. Her life would be back to normal. She’d buckle down to work, complete her dissertation, and finish up her internship at the nursing home. Then what? She didn’t know. She didn’t want to think about it. When she tried to imagine her life beyond her thesis, her mind went blank. She imagined thirty years of counseling the elderly on problems that were largely unsolvable. In the past two months three patients she’d come to love had died. There would be more in the future. Lots more. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes and bowed her head.

Steve came to her side. “Something wrong?”

“Smog,” she said, blinking to clear eyes that were smarting with tears.

He didn’t believe her, but he let it go. He’d learned he couldn’t force her to discuss her problems. After the amusement-park confession she’d closed up tight, keeping all her hurt and confusion locked away inside. Head-in-the-sand syndrome, he thought. Besides, it could very well be smog. The air quality wasn’t all that great. Washington emptied out early on Fridays in the summer. By six o’clock the acrid yellow smog caused by traffic settled in the humid air and was replaced by a more savory cloud rising from hundreds of thousands of suburban barbecues. The mesquite haze hanging over Northern Virginia backyards smelled better, but it caught you in the back of the throat all the same.

Steve stood at his grill, ready to make his Friday-night contribution to air pollution. He struck a match and adjusted the gas jets. He watched the lava rocks heat. At the appropriate moment he deposited his hamburger patties on the grill and stepped back. There was a giant whoosh of flame, the hamburger patties were instantly incinerated into ash, and the fire returned to normal intensity.

Kevin made a disgusted noise, Daisy shook her head in disbelief, and Elsie stepped forward to get a closer look at the hamburger cinders.

“I haven’t never seen you cook an edible hamburger yet on this thing,” Elsie said to Steve. “If it was me, I would’ve given up long ago.”

Steve took the spatula with the extralong redwood handle, the spatula he’d bought especially for his barbecue, and threw it into his neighbor’s yard.

“Feel better?” Daisy asked.

He gave her a sheepish grin. “Yup. What do you say we all pile in the car and go buy some burgers?”

“Good thing the SUV’s fixed,” Elsie said when they got to the driveway. “We’d never all fit in that racy black thing.”

Steve ran his hand over the front fender and walked around to the passenger side to look over the repairs. The body shop had done a good job. The Ford looked like new. “We’re going for burgers,” he called to the two cops sitting in their car across the street.

Five minutes later they were all in line at Mc-Donald’s, except Bob. Bob sat perched on the backseat of the Ford Explorer, eyes and ears alert, watching his family through the large plate-glass windows.

The two cops had ordered first. They stood at the door in obvious boredom, bags of food dangling from their fingertips, waiting for Daisy. The younger one was small and wiry. His name was Koselle. His partner was older, paunchy but still fit. Koselle cracked the lid to his large coffee, added creamer, and sipped the coffee without tasting.

Elsie was the last to give her order. “Double cheeseburger, lots of grease, large fries, and one of them gut-bustin’ vanilla milk shakes,” she said to the girl behind the counter. She shouldered her pocketbook and turned to Daisy. “I don’t know why I keep getting them milk shakes. Last time I had to suck so hard I gave myself a headache.”

“Maybe you should have gotten a soda.”

“Well, the milk shakes taste so dang good,” she said. “Besides, I like a challenge. All them yuppies are out there joining spas and working on them fancy machines to keep in shape. I just buy a couple of these milk shakes every week and try to suck them up through a straw. Keeps my stomach muscles hard as a rock.” Her eyes opened wide and her mouth fell open as she stared out the big front window. “Will you look at that!” she said with a gasp of amazement. “It’s my Caddy!”

Everyone turned in time to see the powder blue rear fender disappear around the side of the building.

“I’ll be a son of a gun!” Elsie shouted. “What nerve!” She snatched the keys to the Ford from Steve’s back pocket and ran outside. “Stop!” she shouted, but the Cadillac was already turning onto Burke Center Parkway. Elsie jumped into the Explorer, cranked over the engine, and was halfway out of the parking space when Kevin, Daisy, and Steve reached the car and wrenched the doors open. Elsie paused for a second while everyone piled in, then she gunned the Ford and took off.

Koselle was a few beats behind, steering with one hand, sticking the flasher to the roof of his car with the other. He swore at the coffee stains on his slacks and told his partner to radio in.

The older man paused with the two-way in his hand. “What’ll I tell them?”

“Hell, tell them we’re in pursuit of some crazy old lady who’s chasing an old Cadillac.”

Elsie tore down the road after her Cadillac. Kevin, Bob, and Daisy were in the backseat. Bob had his head out the window, his ears were flapping vigorously, his eyes were narrowed to slits. Steve had his seat belt pulled tight in the front seat. His hand was braced against the dash. “Slow down,” he said to Elsie. “Let the police take over.”

“Hah!” Elsie shouted. “Them police are a bunch of wimps. They lost these slimebags last time.” She slammed the gas pedal to the floor, and the SUV jumped forward. “Get my gun out of my pocketbook. Shoot out the tires, but be careful of the bumper. I like to keep the chrome nice and shiny.”

“This isn’t Dodge City,” Steve shouted back at her. “I can’t just go around shooting out peo-ple’s tires!”

“Well hell, they’re my tires,” she said. “I guess you can shoot them if I want you to.”

Elsie moved up fast in the left lane and came up behind the Cadillac. There were two men in the car. The one in the passenger seat turned and leveled a gun at the Explorer.

“Holy cow!” Elsie said. She swerved right, and a bullet zinged off the roof.

Two blue-and-white cruisers raced into place behind Koselle. The Cadillac cut off into a subdivision and barreled down narrow tree-lined streets. Elsie, Koselle, and the two squad cars followed.

Elsie hunched over the wheel, her eyes fixed on the men in front of her. Her knuckles were white, her mouth pinched together. “Sure wish I was driving my Caddy,” she said. “They wouldn’t stand a chance if I was in my Caddy.”

The Cadillac turned left, and everyone realized at once that it had made a grave error. It had turned into a cul-de-sac. All the cars slammed on their brakes leaving skid marks the length of the road. The Cadillac jumped the curb and did a 180-degree turn before stopping on a patch of lawn. Elsie hit it broadside. Koselle sideswiped the front of the Cadillac and the two blue-and-whites slid into the tangle of smashed cars.

Seat belts yanked tight, and air bags exploded. Bob flew off the backseat with a yelp but instantly righted himself when he discovered the bag of burgers and fries Steve had carried out with him.

“What a mess,” Elsie said, fighting to deflate her air bag. She slowly moved her head and flexed her fingers. “I don’t think I broke anything.”

“That was so cool,” Kevin said. “Wait’ll I tell the guys. They’re never gonna believe this.”

Steve put his shoulder to the door and shoved it open. He gently pulled Daisy from the backseat and wrapped her in his arms.

“I was scared,” Daisy said. “I was scared. Boy, was I ever scared. I was really scared.”

He gave her a little shake. “You’re all right now.”

“Yeah, but I was scared.”

It was odd, she thought. She’d been frightened when her house had been broken into, and when Steve’s house had been firebombed, and when the Cadillac had tried to smash them into the guardrail. She’d been rattled on those occasions, but she hadn’t been terrified-not like this. When the passenger in the Cadillac had turned around and pointed a gun at her, she’d felt her heart go cold.

She rested her head on Steve’s shoulder and let his warmth and strength seep into her. Sometimes people needed to come close to losing something before they understood its value, Daisy thought. Her life might not be perfect right now, but the imperfections seemed much less significant. There were parts of her life that were very special; there were people in her life that were very wonderful. And there was always the opportunity to make things better. Changing direction no longer seemed so depressing.

Koselle and the uniformed officers had the two men out of the Cadillac and on the ground. An ambulance and more police cars whined in the distance.

“I would’ve gone and helped them make the collar,” Elsie said, “but I can’t move so fast, what with my steel hip.”

Kevin grinned at her. “Hey, don’t worry about it. You were awesome. Man, you smashed right into them. You really gave them a shot.”

“Yeah, I guess I was pretty good,” Elsie agreed.

The two men were carted off, and everyone crowded around the cars to assess the damage. The SUV was smashed front and rear. Doors were buckled, steam hissed from the radiator, and the hood looked like an accordion. Koselle’s car had caught the front of the Cadillac, and the entire right front quarter panel of the cop car had been ripped off. The two blue-and-whites were totaled. Miraculously, no one had been seriously hurt. The Cadillac didn’t have a dent.

“They just don’t make cars like they used to,” Elsie said.

Twenty-four hours later, Daisy, Steve, and Bob sat on the front stoop of Daisy’s town house and watched the sun set into the trees behind Lula Kaplan’s brick duplex. The parking lot seemed oddly empty to Daisy. There were no undercover squad cars, no policemen on surveillance.

The mystery of her harassment had been solved. Just as they’d all suspected, it hadn’t been the Roach. It had been the work of a rival drug dealer who’d hoped to pin additional charges on the Roach and get him off the street for good. Elsie’s Cadillac had finally been returned, but that, too, was missing from the lot. Elsie had gone home. She was no longer on twenty-four-hour duty. At least she would see Elsie on Monday, Daisy thought. Steve had decided that she and Elsie made a good traffic team and had changed Elsie’s job description to temporary assistant traffic reporter.

The town house was silent behind her. No stereo blasting away, no television, no refrigerator door opening and closing. Her parents had come home from Texas and collected Kevin. She was alone, and her life was tidy again, she told herself. The realization provoked a flutter of excitement in her chest. Even if she never used her degree in geriatric counseling, she was determined to finish her thesis and defend it. She needed two months of hard work to get the job done, she’d decided.

Steve rested his back against a wooden tub of geraniums and looked at Daisy. “You’re getting ready to kick me out of your life, aren’t you?”

“I need two months to myself.”

“And then?”

“I don’t know.” It wasn’t an entirely honest answer. True, she didn’t know for sure how she’d feel in two months when the burden of her doctorate degree was lifted from her shoulders, but she suspected she’d buy a can of furniture polish for his kitchen table and beg him to marry her immediately. She glanced down at the ring on her finger and when she spoke her voice was low. “I’d like to keep the ring.”

A smile softened his mouth. “I suppose that’s a good sign.”

He stayed very still against the geraniums, but it was a relaxed, contented sort of stillness, Daisy thought. Their eyes locked, and a visual caress passed between them. “I love you,” she told him.

“There’s all kinds of love,” he teased. “Am I going to have to wait two months before I find out what kind of love we’re talking about?”

“You could spend the night with me and in the morning you can draw your own conclusions.”

It was much more than he’d expected, and he had no intention of wasting his opportunity. The kitchen table had been exciting, but this was what he’d really wanted. He’d wanted the chance to make love to her. He wanted soft lights, candles, lots of time, lots of privacy, and a comfortable bed where they could spend the night locked in each other’s arms.

He leaned forward to kiss her, but she pulled back. “There’s a catch,” she said.

“I’m not surprised.”

“I need time to think, and I need to get my dissertation done. I don’t want to have to worry about your secret weapon. After tomorrow morning my body is off-limits to all of your sneaky, subversive maneuverings.”

“So this is like a last meal for a condemned man?”

“Something like that.”

“I’ll take it.”

She didn’t have candles, but the lighting in her bedroom was dim. A small table lamp with a periwinkle shade filled the room with soft light and dusky shadows. The double bed had been hers as a girl. The comforter was white and fluffy. The sheets were smooth with age, their big pink flowers faded to pale shades of rose. A small television sat on a cherrywood dresser. The only other piece of furniture was a padded rocking chair.

She drew the curtains closed and felt shy as she faced him. Their previous lovemaking had been so explosive, it hadn’t left time for nerves or self-conscious fumblings. There were great advantages to fast lovemaking, she suddenly realized. There were advantages to total darkness, nitrous oxide, and abstinence, too. She’d had fantasies of peeling her clothes off in an erotic strip, but now that the moment was upon her she was paralyzed with stage fright. She found herself fidgeting with the hem of her T-shirt and rolled her eyes in disgust.

Steve kicked his docksiders off and slid onto the bed. He arranged the pillows behind his back, took the channel changer in his hand, and turned the television on. “You look like you’re thinking about jumping out the window.”

“Just one of many options.”

He patted the spot next to him. “I wouldn’t do it if I were you. You’d land in the azalea bush. Your landlord would make you pay for a new one. Why don’t you come sit here instead?”

“I’m a little nervous,” she said, crawling onto the bed.

“With good reason,” he told her. “Since I’m honor-bound not to use my secret weapon for two months after this, I intend to empty out the arsenal tonight.”

Daisy giggled. “You’ll have to give me directions if you want to try anything fancy. My education is limited.”

She was wearing shorts, and her smooth bare leg brushed against his, causing his pulse to quicken. He wrapped her in his arms and held her close. He wasn’t going to rush into things this time, he told himself, but already he could feel desire burning into him.

He ran his hand the length of her rib cage, letting it rest on the curve of her hip. She tilted her face toward him and he kissed her, lightly, playfully. The kiss grew more serious, but he held back, seducing her slowly. He skimmed kisses along the side of her neck and told her he loved her. His hands were gentle as they ranged over her, heating the skin beneath her clothes. He kissed her again, deeper this time, teasing her with his tongue. The kisses were long and intoxicating, filled with love and promising passion. He felt her hands flatten on his chest, felt her press against him. He fought to move slowly but control was slipping away. He noticed with some satisfaction that her control had already completely evaporated.

He lowered her shorts slowly, inch by inch, his mouth following his hands, kissing and caressing. He felt her fingers curl into his shirt. He was half crazy with wanting her, but he continued methodically, searching for the most sensitive places, memorizing the way she liked to be touched.

Clothes were discarded entirely and he allowed himself a moment to study her. She was pretty, he thought. And she was his. This had to be the result of all those years of meditating with his grandfather and trying to control his cussing. God had finally rewarded him.

He brought her to climax and then he followed.

When Daisy’s breathing was almost normal she opened her eyes. Steve had shifted slightly to the side and was watching her. “I’m glad I didn’t jump,” she said. “Do you still love me?”

“I will love you forever and ever.”

She sighed in contentment and walked her fingers across his stomach until she found what she was looking for.

“Whoa,” he said, “what are you doing?”

“You’re not tired, are you?”

“I could use a few more minutes.”

She looked at the watch on her wrist. “I’ll give you ten, and then it’s my turn. This next time we’re going to see what kind of patience you have.”

Daisy slowly drove the black sports car the short distance between her town house and Steve’s colonial, pulled into his driveway, and parked beside his new Hummer. She dragged herself from the car and walked bone-weary to the door. By the time she got there she was sick, her stomach rolling with each step she took. She hammered on the door and almost collapsed with relief when he answered with his cup of morning coffee still in his hand. Her eyes were large and teary, her blond bangs dark with perspiration. She knocked him aside with a sweep of her arm. “Get out of my way,” she cried, staggering toward the powder room. “I’m going to be sick!”

He swore under his breath and ran to get a towel. He soaked it with cold water and pressed it against the back of her neck when she emerged from the bathroom. “This is the fifth day in a row we’ve gone through this,” he said gently. “When are you going to hear about that damn dissertation?”

“Today. My adviser is supposed to call today.”

“It’s just a dissertation,” he told her. “It’s not worth getting sick over. If the committee doesn’t accept it, the world will continue turning.”

She collapsed onto a kitchen chair. “I want it to be over.”

“You aren’t the only one. I’m lonely. I’m tired of sleeping with Bob. The only time I see you is when you have to stop here on the way to work to get sick.”

“The nerves get to me first thing in the morning. And then I get carsick when I first start out.”

He looked at the engagement ring on her finger and wondered how much longer she’d continue to wear it. “You finished your dissertation weeks ago, but you’re still avoiding me. Why?”

She slumped forward and rested her head on her arms. “Because I’m a mess. Look at me! I’m sick! I can’t even handle the pressure of a doctoral dissertation. It hasn’t been just five days that I’ve been sick. I’ve been sick for two weeks. I burst into tears for no reason at all. I’m always tired. I’m a psychologist. I know the signs. I’m nuts.”

“Is that the clinical term? Nuts?”

“It’s not funny. I thought everything would fall into place once my dissertation was done, but my life is a shambles.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Because I hate being an emotional cripple; I hate you knowing I’m an emotional cripple, and I hate the idea of starting out a marriage as a mental case. I don’t know why you’re even attracted to me. Ever since we’ve known each other I’ve whined about my personal problems.”

“You’ve never whined. You might have babbled once or twice, but you’ve never whined.”

She pushed away from the table. “I’m feeling a little better,” she said. “I think I’ll be okay now.”

He supported her with his arm and walked her to the door. “Why don’t you take the day off?”

She shook her head. “It’s Friday. I’ll have the weekend, and then there’s only one week left until Menken returns.”

“How’s the new book coming along?”

“It’s not coming along at all. I can’t seem to find the energy to work on it. Maybe when this traffic job is done.”

“And the nursing home?”

A tear slid down her cheek. “I can’t bear to go to the nursing home anymore. Mrs. Nielson isn’t making any progress. She’s just slipping away. Mr. Bender has pneumonia.”

He cuddled her tight against his chest and wished he could help her. He stroked the hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. “I can’t make death and sickness go away, but I can be here at the end of the day when you need someone to talk to. It seems to me there’s a lot of latitude in geriatric counseling. Maybe you need a job that deals with the problems of younger seniors… people like Elsie.”

That brought a weak smile to her lips. “There’s not another person on the face of this earth like Elsie. What’s going to happen to her job when Menken returns?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.” He kissed her again and held her at arm’s length. “Why don’t you come over after work, and I’ll throw some hamburgers on the old barbecue grill?”

“Last time you tried to cook hamburgers you set your chef’s apron on fire.”

“I think I’ve got the hang of it now.”

She loved him more than life itself, she thought. And deep down inside she wanted to believe things would work out. The natural optimist in her wanted to think she was suffering from extended PMS, or low blood sugar, or not enough fiber-and the proper diet would fix everything. A physical reason for her nervous stomach was much more acceptable to her than admitting she was an emotional basket case. “I’ve made a doctor’s appointment for after work today. He’s going to do some blood tests. Maybe I just need vitamins.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No,” she said dully. “I need to do this myself. I’ll stop by on my way home. It should be around seven. Please don’t start up the grill until I get here. I hate to think of you going up in flames and no one around to hose you down.”

Steve began pacing in his living room at eight. By nine o’clock he’d called the state police and three hospitals. Daisy wasn’t in her town house, she wasn’t with Elsie, and she definitely wasn’t with him. He sank into a club chair and absentmindedly fondled Bob’s head. Daisy had been so despondent when she’d left in the morning. He should have driven her in to work and insisted on going to the doctor with her, he thought. The damn woman was too independent for her own good. She was sick, and she needed help-his help. That’s what love and marriage were all about. Marriage wasn’t just the good times and the sexy nights; it was making chicken soup for your wife when she had a cold and sharing a box of Kleenex when Mrs. Nielson wasn’t making any progress.

Last month Daisy had been the picture of health. She was a woman in love, and she was ready to get married. Something had happened in the interim to change all that. One day she’d been laughing with him over a pizza, then the next morning she’d burst into tears when he’d told her Bob was going to have puppies. He looked down at the dog. It had never occurred to him to check the plumbing under all that shaggy fur.

“I made a mess of it,” he said to Bob. “Somewhere along the line we had a severe breakdown in communication. She just pulled away from me.”

He heard a car door slam, and he was on his feet. He had the door open before Daisy reached the porch. “Where have you been? It’s after nine. Are you okay?”

Her eyes were wide and filled with tears. “I don’t have PMS or low blood sugar or irregularity.”

He gripped her shoulders hard, not sure if he was supporting her or himself. “What is it?”

The tears spilled out and streaked down her face. “I’m… pregnant.” She sobbed. “We’re going to have a baby!”

He was speechless. Air refused to leave his lungs. Little black dots floated in front of his eyes. There was a loud roaring in his head. “Baby?” he said. Then he crashed to the floor in a dead faint.

He was soaking wet when he came around.

He blinked his eyes and sputtered. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he said. “I promise not to swim out so far next time.”

“I’m not your mom,” Daisy said. “I’m Daisy.”

“Oh yeah. Why am I all wet?”

“You fainted, and I poured water on you. That’s what they do in the movies.”

“Are we really going to have a baby?”

“Yup. That’s why I’ve been sick and tired and weepy. My hormones haven’t got their act together yet.”

“But you were crying over it. You were sobbing.”

“Because I was so happy. Pregnant women cry a lot.” She sat beside him and pulled a grocery sack onto her lap. “Look, I stopped at the store and got some sparkling cider so we can celebrate. And wait’ll you see what else I bought!” She removed a little jar and held it in the palm of her hand. “Baby applesauce,” she said, bursting into tears again. “Isn’t it the cutest little jar you’ve ever seen?”

He pulled her onto his lap and wiped the tears away with his thumb. A baby! He’d been excited about having puppies, and now he was going to have a baby, too! “You’re going to marry me, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Not just because of the baby?”

“Because I love you.” She opened the applesauce and tasted it on the tip of her finger. Then she fed some to Steve for practice. “And I think I’m going to take a job at the nursing home. I might not stay there for the rest of my life, but I’m going to try it for a while. I’d lost perspective on life as part of a continuum. There’s nothing wrong with aging. It’s natural and inevitable… like the birth of a baby.”

Steve popped the cork on the cider and they drank straight from the bottle. “To us,” Steve said.

“To the baby.”

“To family life.”

“To strained peas.” She reached into her purse for a tissue because she felt emotional again. “One other thing,” she said. “If it’s all right with you, I’d really like to get rid of the black car. I’m tired of removing men’s underwear from the antenna.”

Steve took a deep breath. “While we’re on the subject of cars I have a confession to make. I was the one who stole your old klunker. I’ve been hiding it in my garage. That’s why I’ve had to keep the garage locked and the windows blacked out. I did it because I didn’t want you to get stuck on the road anymore.”

“Sneaky but noble,” she said. “While we’re confessing, I may as well tell you Elsie and I got curious and broke into your garage one day last month while you were at work. We took the car and sold it. I needed the money to pay school fees.”

He stared at her in shock for thirty seconds before his mouth curved into an appreciative smile. “Daisy Adams, you’re sneakier than I am!”

She grinned back at him. “Don’t you ever forget it.”