Read Online A Bridge to Love by Nancy Herkness - Free Book Online Page A

helicopter, too,” Patrick said with unassailable
logic. “Maybe he'll give you a ride in it.”
    Kate
shuddered; she hated to fly in anything. “I hope not. And you don't need to do
any more research on Mr. Johnson. I won't be seeing him again.”
    Clay
looked torn between sympathy and relief. “Bad date?” he asked.
    “Just
boring,” Kate said. “Now what about a movie?”

    Oliver
had promised to come on Sunday for soccer practice and dinner. He arrived with
a bouquet of flowers and a new soccer ball. Kate watched him rumple her sons'
hair and listen to their loud and simultaneous descriptions of dog walking,
winning Saturday's soccer game and acing tests in school. She thought what a
heartwarming picture the three of them made: the tall, quiet man with two
energetic boys orbiting around him.
    Oliver
looked up to catch her watching, and his slow smile lit up his face. Kate
smiled back. He handed her the flowers with a small bow. “Congratulations on
your undefeated record in soccer,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
    “Thanks.
I'm beginning to feel like a real coach. That Soccer for Dummies book really works.”
    The
whole group moved into the kitchen where Kate filled her sons' water bottles
and put her flowers in a vase before heading out to the backyard. Although
Oliver and her sons could run rings around Kate, they always insisted that she
participate in their Sunday afternoon scrimmages. When Kate pointed out that
coaches were paid to supervise, all three males would look sad and beg her to
even up the sides. Usually she agreed to play goalie since it required the
least amount of ball-handling skill.
    As
the sunlight slanted lower across the yard, Kate decided that she had put in
her time and she needed to start dinner. “This is the last shot on goal,” she
called. Oliver neatly passed to Patrick who gave the ball a hard kick to the
corner of the goal. Kate threw herself at the ball and caught it just before it
went by her.
    “Way
to go, Mom. Great hands!” Clay cheered.
    Oliver
gave her a male jock slap on the rear and said, “Great save.”
    Kate
smacked his rear right back and said, “Thanks. You can play awhile longer.”
    She
walked into the kitchen chuckling and heard the telephone ringing. Without
thinking, she picked up the receiver. “Hello,” she said as she opened the
refrigerator door to get out the hamburger meat.
    “Hello,
Kate. This is Randall.” As if that voice could belong to anyone else.
    Kate
straightened up abruptly and let the refrigerator door swing closed. She took a
deep breath. “Hello, Randall. How are you?”
    “Well,
I'm standing here on my heated terrace with my shoes off, but I'm not having as
much fun as the last time I did that. I was hoping you would come up here and
join me.”
    Kate
closed her eyes. She had a vision of Randall dressed as he was at the Princeton
picnic, in blue jeans and a white shirt, but barefoot. She was suddenly
overwhelmed with a longing to feel the warm skin and muscle under the shirt and
jeans. “No, no, I can't,” Kate said, horrified at the obvious regret in her
voice.
    “Can't
or won't?”
    “Both.”
    “I
understand. You have kids. So we'll have dinner on Saturday. I'll pick you up
at seven.”
    “No,
Randall. I'm not...”
    Kate
realized that she was talking to a dead telephone line. He had hung up.
    “What
an arrogant –” she said, slamming the phone onto its cradle. Then she sagged
against the wall. She had intended to be polite but very firm in her refusal
and instead she had sounded like a wimp. Randall Johnson was pushing her
buttons and he knew it. She resolved to call him back, give him a piece of her
mind and tell him never to call her again.
    She'd
do it on Monday.

Six

    Dinner was over, and the boys
had disappeared upstairs. Oliver and Kate had carried their wine out onto the
porch to listen to the crickets and watch the moon. Kate remembered evenings
when this scene had included David. Not long ago,