Love of the Game Page 17

  He nodded and stepped back, but never took his eyes off them.

  Kasha switched back to hold her sister’s belligerent gaze. “Emma,” she said quietly, calmly. “We don’t shove. It’s not nice.”

  Emma’s bottom lip quivered.

  “I know you’re scared,” Kasha murmured. “I know those girls hurt your feelings.”

  “I …” Tears misted Emma’s eyes, and all the fight went out of her. Her shoulders slumped and she hung her head. “I not normal.”

  Kasha’s heart broke. Just broke right in two pieces. Emma knew she was different, and Kasha couldn’t fix it.

  “You are exactly who you are meant to be, sweetheart,” Kasha cooed. “You are perfect just as you are.”

  “I bad. I puhed you.”

  “We all do things we shouldn’t do when we’re hurt and scared and upset. It’s okay. It’s going to be all right.”

  “I torry.” Tears streamed down Emma’s face. “I torry Ka’cha. I torry.”

  “Oh, Emma. I’m sorry too.” Kasha opened her arms and enveloped her sister in a hug.

  Emma wrapped her arms around Kasha, buried her face against her breasts, and sobbed for all she was worth.

  Kasha held her tight. Embraced her. Embraced the bittersweet moment full of dread and shame and disappointment and understanding and healing and forgiveness.

  For Emma.

  For herself.

  For them both.

  Kasha held her sister for a long moment, blocked out everyone and everything else around them. Existed for a time in the perfectness of those few minutes.

  Not judging. No more expectations. Just accepting what was.

  Those serene ticks of the clock were calm, blissful, and huge.

  Finally, Emma’s sobs subsided.

  “Would you like to go swimming now?” Kasha whispered. They could fix this. The day could be salvaged. “Or would you like ice cream and cookies? What would you like to do?”

  Emma pulled back, looked up into Kasha’s eyes, her face rippling with uncertainty and worry and fear. “Ka’cha,” she said. “I wanna go home. Plea take me home.”

  CHAPTER 15

  “Don’t stress about it,” Molly said when Kasha returned Emma to the group home after the incident at the party. “It’s the first time she’s been out for a visit with anyone since her mother got sick. I expected this.”

  The minute Emma was back in her environment, she was her old smiling self. Warm, affectionate, happy.

  “It takes time.” Molly rested a kind hand on Kasha’s shoulder. “Give it time.”

  “Thank you for that. I realize now the party was way too much.”

  “Would you like to try again next week? Maybe just the two of you?”

  Kasha took a steadying breath. “Can I get back to you on that?”

  Molly’s eyes clouded, and her lips thinned. “You’re not going to let this chase you off?”

  “Oh no, no. I just need some time to … regroup.”

  “I understand.” Molly’s tone changed. Grew tight, clipped.

  “It’s not Emma,” Kasha explained. “It was my unrealistic expectations.”

  “Please don’t walk out of her life, because I know that would be so easy to do.”

  “I’m not. I won’t. Ever!” Kasha was stunned that Molly would believe that of her. “I just need to figure some things out.”

  Molly gave a muted smile. “We’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

  After she left the group home, Kasha returned to the party, to find Axel had already gone. And she felt strangely adrift, and empty.

  She stayed for a while watching her parents welcoming guests, filling plates and drink glasses, telling lively stories: Dan and Maggie, the perfect hosts, working in harmony. Extroverts. Soul mates. A team. Forever on each other’s side. Making marriage look amazingly easy despite the challenges of raising four adopted daughters, each with her own special brand of baggage.

  Later in the day, Mom took her aside and gave her a pep talk about Emma, but Kasha was still feeling melancholy and went on home.

  She did an hour of yoga, but couldn’t clear her mind of the way things had gone with Emma at the party. She blamed herself entirely. She should never have put her half sister in that situation.

  Naïve. She’d been so naïve.

  After a restless night, she woke with the realization she needed time alone in nature. Nature had a way of putting life into perspective. At dawn, she pulled her kayak out of the garage, strapped it to the roof of the Prius, and headed out for Stardust Lake.

  During the sticky summer months in East Texas, humidity collected on the outside of drinking glasses, melting ice and turning beverages watery in milliseconds. Wind chimes rattled sluggishly in the thick air, while lazy flies buzzed around the back door, waiting for someone to open the screen so they could slip inside. Heat shimmered off the asphalt, a wavering mirage that smelled of hot tar and motor oil. Mockingbirds nested in mimosa trees, waiting until it grew cooler to start singing. Grasshoppers leaped through the tall Johnson grass, leaving tobacco-colored spittle staining the broad blades. The scent of magnolias hugged the town in sweaty fragrance. Kids played sandlot ball. Teens loitered in parking lots. Most days of the week a procession of boats on trailers clogged the highway from town to lake.

  But at that hour of the morning, even on Memorial Day, there were only two other vehicles in the boat ramp parking lot, both of them belonging to local fishermen. And the air was still cool and inviting.

  She got the kayak into the water, flipped her sunglasses from the top of her head down over her eyes, fitted her cell phone into a waterproof case, put on some music, stuck earbuds into her ears, and cast off.

  Natalie Imbruglia was whispering in her ear, “Torn” and Kasha joined right in, singing at the top of her voice as she glided across the water, letting her voice loose when she was all alone in nature.

  She hadn’t bothered braiding her hair that morning, letting it float free and easy. The strands swung around her as she rowed, a thick cloud of hair that both vexed and delighted her. She knew she was lucky to have an abundance of hair, but it had a mind of its own.

  She was in the middle of the lake when a Jet Ski zipped past her, rocking the kayak in its wake. She raised the oar and waited for the water to settle. Up ahead, the Jet Ski made a U-turn, and came barreling straight toward her.

  Great. Who was this jerk?

  Kasha scowled and narrowed her eyes, prepared to get his AZ number. Just before the Jet Ski reached her, the driver killed the engine, and the craft glided alongside her and she stared into Axel Richmond’s grinning mug.

  “What are you doing out on a Jet Ski,” she scolded, pushing her sunglasses up on her head. “You’re risking your shoulder loading that thing into the water.”

  “Relax,” he said, his voice warm and sexy. “Mr. Creedy put the Jet Ski in the water for me before he left for the weekend. When I’m done, it will stay tied at the dock until he gets back. I promise.”

  What could she say to that?

  “So,” he said, his gaze strolling over her, taking in the red bikini top and denim shorts she wore, a smile lifting his lips. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine, until you splashed me with your wake,” she grumbled, even though she wasn’t displeased. He didn’t need to know how hard her pulse strummed whenever she was around him.

  “You’re upset because I got you wet?”

  Kasha rolled her eyes, but she did feel a distinct softening in her root chakra. Darn him. “Tuck away the clichéd innuendo, Richmond. I’m immune.”

  “Wanna stow your kayak and come ride with me?” he invited.

  Tempted. Oh, she was tempted! “I’m fine.”

  His audacious eyes kept exploring her body. “Yes,” he murmured. “Yes you are.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m off now.”

  “Wait,” he said. “Don’t go away mad.”

  She wasn’t mad. Far from it. She was charmed, an
d that was the problem. She stuck her oar in the water, waved a hand over her head, and rowed … smack … right into a large rock lurking underneath the water’s surface. She plowed into it so hard, her teeth rattled.

  “Sphinx?” Axel called out, alarm in his voice. “You okay?”

  Um, yeah, sure, except water was pouring into the hull of her kayak. Dammit. She’d knocked a hole in the fiberglass.

  Great. Super. Terrific.

  Axel drifted over. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, but your boat is listing. You’ve sprung a leak.”

  “You don’t say.” Water was already lapping at her ankles. It was a significant hole.

  “Heads up,” he said.

  She looked over to see him holding a rope. She reached up, and he tossed it to her. Used it to reel her over to him.

  “Looks like it’s fate,” he said. “You and me together again.”

  “Looks like I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she corrected, but she couldn’t help smiling.

  “Because …”

  “You distracted me,” she said as he pulled her up alongside the Jet Ski.

  His sly grin was wickedly sexy. “So it’s my fault?”

  “Yes. You’re far too good-looking.”

  “Was that a compliment?”

  “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  He put out his hand to help her aboard the Jet Ski. She swung up behind him, and when her legs made contact with his, ignored the tingle between her thighs. Forcibly slowing her breathing, she reached down to tie the kayak to the Jet Ski.

  “Where’s your car?” he asked.

  She gave him directions to the marina boat ramp where she’d left the Prius, and they took off.

  When they reached the boat ramp, he docked the Jet Ski and helped her carry the kayak to her car. In the hour that she’d been on the lake, several more cars and trucks with boat trailers had pulled into the lot. People were milling around, putting their boats into the water, smearing on sunscreen, loading up picnic baskets for a day on the water.

  Axel helped her carry the kayak to her car and strap it on the roof. She kept an eye on him the whole time to make sure he wasn’t compromising his injured shoulder.

  “Thank you.” She turned to him after they had the kayak secured.

  “You’re leaving?” He sounded disappointed.

  “The kayak is done for.”

  “But I’ve got a perfectly good Jet Ski, and no one to play with.” He nailed her with his gaze, anchoring her to the spot. “Come play with me, Kasha.”

  She pulled her hair back into a ponytail with the ponytail holder she kept around her wrist. The ponytail swung against her back, loose and casual. He watched it swish as if mesmerized.

  “Please,” he said, and she could tell from the way his voice cracked that it took something from him to plead. “I don’t want to be alone today.”

  A flash of deep emotion passed over his face. An emotion she couldn’t fully decipher. It seemed part grief, part nostalgia, part loss. His hand went to his chest, but his quick, bright smile made her wonder if she’d imagined it.

  But instead of refusing his invitation as she intended, Kasha found herself saying, “All right.”

  “You mean it?” He beamed, suddenly a boy again, happy and carefree. To think that she could please him so easily. He made her feel both girlish and powerful.

  Dumb. Really, really dumb, this illicit thrill that clipped through her.

  Just for today, she promised herself. It was a holiday. Their day off. They were simply riding on a Jet Ski together. Just for today, she would let herself go, be in the moment, and have fun. She would zip herself back up after that.

  They returned to the Jet Ski, and she climbed on behind him.

  “Wrap your arms around my waist,” he called over his shoulder as he cranked the engine.

  “I’m good.”

  “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He took off across the water at a thrilling pace.

  Kasha squealed—and she most definitely was not a squealer—at the speed, and the force jerked her back so swiftly, she had no choice but to clamp her arms around his waist in order to keep from sliding off the back.

  His abs were granite beneath her fingers, hard and defined and perfect. She shouldn’t have enjoyed it as much as she did.

  What a scene. A beautiful Memorial Day. Blue skies with just the right amount of cottage cheese clouds.

  Her arms latched around the spectacularly tanned body of major league pitcher Axel Richmond as they flashed over the calm surface of the lake dotted with watercraft—three white kayaks, a long banana-yellow canoe filled with Cub Scouts in orange life vests, two sailboats, four green fishing boats, a big black brassy speedboat showing off, and at least half a dozen other Jet Skis, and Sea-Doos.

  Breathless.

  She was breathless.

  Because she felt fully alive, and realized she couldn’t ever remember feeling quite like this before.

  They skimmed over the glassy surface, deft as a water glider. In the air she smelled coconut sunscreen, engine oil, fertile soil, and earthy lake. She rested her head against the left side of his back, heard his heart thumping strong and hard.

  The reality of being here with him like this was as phenomenal as any girlhood fantasy—more so. Axel was a man in every sense of the word. Big. Virile. Ripe with testosterone. Sexy as a midnight tryst. And kind. He’d been so kind and good with Emma at the party. She owed him for that.

  Stardust Lake, hometown waterway, was a cheery local hangout with quaint summer homes and long wooden docks just made for flipping cannonballs off of. Picnic tables squatted on retaining walls above the lake that was dotted with fishermen casting rods and reels hung with shiny lures. Bare-chested men, with cavemen smirks, wore swim trunks, and manned smokers and barbecues laden with thick slabs of meat.

  They spent the entire day on the lake, taking turns driving the Jet Ski. At lunch, they beached on a small island, drank bottled water, and shared snacks they’d both brought—trail mix and apples, peanut butter and rice crackers, string cheese and red globe grapes. They took a leisurely swim, and chatted about inconsequential things like movies, books, music, and amusement park rides. They discovered they both enjoyed art house films, clashed on fiction versus nonfiction (Kasha loved biographies, Axel was into sci-fi), agreed that alternative rock was the best it had been in years and that nothing in an amusement park beat roller coasters. Axel had been to numerous theme parks, given that his job had taken him all over the U.S., and he told her in some detail which coasters were the best and why.

  “One day, we’ll hit a few of the best,” he said, as if they were a couple, as if they had a future together.

  Her heart lurched with possibilities, and she saw herself clinging to him in a roller coaster car, screaming with delight.

  Stop it. He’s your patient.

  Not today. Today they were just Kasha and Axel, not therapist and baseball player.

  Dangerous. This was dangerous thinking.

  Kasha shook off the sticky feelings, brought her attention back to the moment—to the lake and the man beside her, to the pulse in her body and the thrill in her soul.

  They lay in the sand on the island, looking up at the sky, cloud watching and calling out what they spied. “There’s a witch on a broom.” Or “I see a sad-faced clown.” And “Look, a grizzly bear catching a salmon.” When Kasha saw a hot dog cloud, the topic shifted to baseball and Axel’s dream of pitching for the Yankees.

  Whenever he talked about baseball, his eyes blazed with a light that scared her. So much passion! It was frightening to a woman who preferred keeping her emotions in the chiller.

  Not the deep freeze. Not frozen. But cool. Settled. Soothing.

  His heat, his brightness was such a contrast to the way she lived her life. It both relieved and terrified her. She tried not to let her feelings show on her face, and steered the conversation back to the clouds, pointing out a cowboy r
oping a calf.

  By late afternoon, they’d laughed and talked so much that Kasha’s voice was growing hoarse.

  “I’ve never heard you talk this much,” he said. “I really like the chatty Kasha.”

  Honestly, so did she.

  “May I ask you a personal question?” he ventured, sitting up in the sand to stare down at her.

  Feeling vulnerable with him above her, she sat up too. “As long as I reserve the right not to answer.”

  “Why did you keep your shorts on when we went swimming?” Axel asked.

  “Because I didn’t want you ogling me,” she quipped past the sick feeling that sprang to her stomach.

  “So it has nothing to do with those scars on your legs?”

  Kasha splayed both palms over her upper thighs. “How did you know?”

  “When you came out of the water the hem of your shorts had ridden up,” he said solemnly, sitting up, his gaze searching her face. “What happened?”

  Shame vibrated through her, and she felt her stomach heat up. “I … that’s none of your …” Unable to bear the kindness in his eyes, she ducked her head and busied herself with braiding her hair to keep from looking at him.

  He reached over, touched her hand. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. It doesn’t change anything.”

  She darted a sideways glance at him. “Doesn’t change anything about what?”

  His eyes were dark, mysterious orbs. “The way I feel about you.”

  A flutter of panic batted around inside her chest. She did not like where this conversation was headed. She hopped to her feet, tugged at the cuff of her damp shorts. “We need to go.”

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said, getting up.

  “I’m not afraid,” she denied, even as her knees quaked.

  He touched her shoulder, lightly, tenderly. A sick sensation rolled through her. “Kasha, what happened to your thighs? I won’t judge you.”

  He knew.

  She could tell from the look in his eyes. She hung her head, touched her chin right to her chest. How could she confess her deepest shame?

  He didn’t move. Didn’t say anything else. Just kept standing there patiently, his calloused palm warm against her skin, his thumb rhythmically stroking her in a circular motion, sending a message. It’s okay, you’re all right, I’m here.