Janet (18 page)

“I’m tired... so tired.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of
her hair. “Tell me about it.”

“Oh, God, Dan.” Janet lifted her tear-stained
face. “He’s going to die.”

“Who?” When she was silent, he prodded
gently. “Let me share this burden with you. Tell me, Janet.”

“A little boy in the hospital.... I had to
tell his parents tonight.” She sniffed and took a deep, gulping
breath. “He has a malignant brain tumor. Inoperable.”

“I’m so sorry.” He stroked her hair, her
face, her neck. “I wish I could ease your pain.”

Now that she had started talking, she seemed
to gain strength and courage. Her voice became stronger as she
talked. “He’s so young, Dan. He said he wanted a car like Batman
when he grew up. He’ll never grow up.”

“I’m listening, sweetheart.”

“We can buy him a little time with
chemotherapy - a year, maybe two. When I begin to think that
science and medicine can cure every disease, when I get carried
away with my own power, something like this happens to give me the
right perspective.” She lifted her head and looked at him. “It’s so
hard to be helpless in a situation like this. I feel as if I’ve
betrayed them.”

“That’s not true. And I’m sure they don’t
feel that way.”

“No. They were very sweet...brokenhearted,
but sweet.”

“And you
have
given them something.
You’ve given them hope.” She sat quietly, waiting for him to
continue, content to rest in the shelter of his arms. “Who knows
what will happen in the next year or two? Perhaps a cure for cancer
will be discovered. Or there might even be a miracle.”

“Do you believe in miracles, Dan?”

“Yes, Janet. Do you?”

“I believe in science and knowledge—”
Pausing, she stared into space. But she wasn’t looking outward; she
was looking inward. She was seeing the things in life that defied
logic and reason: the flight of the bumblebee, the beaching of
whales, the suicidal plunge into the sea of the lemmings. Life was
filled with mysteries and miracles.

“To a certain extent, I do, Dan.”

She leaned her head back against his chest.
How good it felt to rest and be comforted! It was a luxury she
hadn’t had in many years.

Dan kissed the top of her head. “My mother
had a wonderful cure for the blues.”

“I can’t think of one better than this.”

“She used to run a tubful of hot water and
pour in bubble bath. There was a special jar just for the occasion.
When we were still small, she’d come in and scrub our backs and
tell funny stories. After we got too big for that, she’d stand
outside the door and yell through, ‘Did you hear the one about old
Mr. Pritckens. He started to hang flypaper strips on his front
porch and his golden retriever got his tail stuck in the rosin. It
took forever to get that dog loose. He said he thought he was going
to have to hang old Sweetpea from the ceiling. Said he bet it was
the biggest fly anybody ever caught.’“

“You do wonderful voices, Dan. Have you ever
thought of going on stage?”

“I’d feel funny up there. I belong on a field
somewhere, with a soccer ball between my feet.”

She lifted her head and smiled at him. “Thank
you, Dan, for...everything.”

“You’re welcome.”

He held her in silence while the minutes
ticked by. Finally he stood up and lifted her off the sofa.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to give you the complete blues
cure.”

“Your mother’s cure?”

“With variations.”

He set her gently on her feet. “Don’t move
from this spot.”

He left the room and she could hear his
footsteps as he searched her little apartment. She heard doors
opening and closing and finally the sound of water running. When he
came back into the room he turned the lights down low and checked
to be sure the draperies were closed.

With one hand he brushed her soft hair back
from her face and with the other he unfastened the top button on
her suit.

“I can do that, Dan.”

“I want to take care of you, Janet.”

He popped the second suit button open, and
then the third and the fourth. She stood very still, luxuriating in
the feeling of being pampered.

He slid the jacket from her shoulders, his
hands skimming over her shoulders, sending heat waves through her
silk blouse and warming her skin. He folded the jacket neatly then
aimed it like a discus toward the sofa. It sailed through the air
and landed on the cushions, still folded.

“How did you do that?”

“That’s one of the small compensations of
being a coach. You can do laundry in one room and deliver it to the
closets in the next without ever taking a step.”

“Why is it that you can always make me
smile?”

“Is that a smile I see? Can it be? Ahhh...I
do believe it’s a grin.”

Chuckling, she turned and started toward the
bathroom.

Dan put his hands on her shoulders and turned
her back to face him. “Where are you going, Doc?”

“To the tub. That
is
a bubble bath I
hear, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” His hands descended to the front of
her blouse. “But this therapy has to be done in proper order to
work.” He opened the top button. “I’m going to undress you, and
then I’m going to carry you to the tub. You’ll sink under the
water, with bubbles up to your neck, and I’ll sit beside you and
tell you funny stories. Afterward I’ll light a fire and sit beside
you on this rug. We’ll drink wine and cuddle. You’ll tell me your
secrets and I’ll tell you mine.”

“It sounds wonderful.” She put her hand over
his. “I’ll take the tub and the funny stories, the fire and wine.
But I’ll get to the tub and finish dressing under my own
steam.”

“Shy?”

“No. Practical. I don’t ever star anything I
don’t intend to finish. And believe it or not, I’m saving the
finish line for my honeymoon.”

“I want you, Janet. Make no mistake about
that. But tonight I want to give you something that has nothing to
do with passion and everything to do with love. I want to give you
tenderness and compassion and understanding and humor and support.
I want you to know without a doubt that I am your best friend, that
you can count on me in all circumstances. Do you trust me,
Doc?”

“Yes.”

“Then everything is going to be all
right.”

As he slipped her blouse from her shoulders,
she had the awful feeling that she was about to open Pandora’s box
and couldn’t get it closed again. By the time he removed her skirt,
she reasoned that they were both intelligent, reasonable human
beings who could draw the line wherever they wanted. When she was
panties and bra and felt herself being lifted into his arms, she
stopped thinking altogether. Sighing, she put her head on his
chest, and felt the steady beat of his heart as he carried her to
the tub.

“Do you want me to leave now?” he said.

“No.”

She hardly knew this suddenly reckless woman
who slid out of panties and bra without a single qualm while the
coach suddenly lost his power of speech.

The faucets were still running, not full
force but in a steady stream, and bubbles filled the tub almost to
the rim. She climbed into the tub and turned off the taps. Water
lapped over the edges of the tub and splashed on his shoes.

“You’re getting wet, Dan.”

“Not as wet as I will be.” He pushed up the
sleeves of his gray sweater and white shirt. “It’s my philosophy
that no bath worth taking is done alone.”

She lifted her hair with both arms and leaned
back. “This is sheer luxury.”

“This is just the beginning.” He turned and
searched her vanity until he found two large tortoiseshell combs.
“Allow me, Doc.” He knelt beside the tub and secured the combs in
her hair, then he leaned back to study the effect. Wispy curls
escaped the combs and lay against her cheek and her neck.
“Enchanting.”

“Will I do to go to the symphony?” Entering
into the spirit of fun, she postured for him, lifting an imaginary
fan with one hand and making a big to-do of fanning.

“I can think of other places I’d rather take
you.”

His smile was somewhat wistful as he picked
up a washcloth and began to lather it with soap.

“Turn that beautiful back to me and I’ll show
you all the therapeutic techniques of a soccer coach.”

While Dan massaged her back, he talked. “Did
I ever tell you about Tolbert Simmons?”

“No.”

“He was my grandfather’s age, a spry old man,
even in his seventies.” He cast aside the cloth and began to
massage with his hands. As he talked he could feel the tension
easing out of her. “Folks called him the man who once died.”

“Why?”

“That was back in the days before embalming.
Old Tolbert died and was decked out in his casket. Mourners were
passing by, crying and telling all the good things they knew about
him. When Minnie Crimpton passed by, she leaned down and kissed him
on the lips. Old Tolbert kissed her back. After all the celebrating
was over, folks asked him what had happened. He said he’d always
been sweet on Minnie, and he guessed he had to die to get her to
kiss him.”

Janet chuckled. “You made that up.”

“Scout’s honor. I did not.” He sat back on
his heels and watched her laugh. “I never thought a woman’s
laughter would be the sweetest music in the world.”

“You say beautiful things.”

“I’ll always say beautiful things... for
you.” He reached into the water and caught one of her hands.
Lifting it to his lips, he kissed her palm. “And now, m’lady, I’ll
leave you to your bath.”

She touched her hand to his face. “Don’t go,”
she whispered.

“I’m not leaving, sweetheart. I’m going to
light your fire.”

“You’ve already lit my fire.” Her smile was
wicked.

“And you’ve lit mine. That calls for a
celebration, don’t you think?”

“Yes.”

He kissed her knuckles and lowered her hand
back into the water. “Finish your bath, love. I’ll be right
back.”

Janet sank back into the water, smiling. He
left the bathroom and she could hear him moving about her
apartment. Knowing that he was there made her feel peaceful and
safe, as if she were a storm-tossed bird that had come unexpectedly
upon a huge, sheltering rock.

She lingered in the tub and soon he was back,
carrying her pink terry-cloth robe. He hung the robe on the
bathroom hook and smiled down at her.

“All finished, Doc?”

“Is this ‘Twenty Questions’?”

“No. Only two.”

“The first is whether I am finished with the
bath. What’s the second?”

“What’s my sweatshirt doing under your sofa
cushion?”

“You looked under the sofa cushion?”

“I asked the first question, Doc.”

Still laughing, she took his hand and told
him the whole story of his sweatshirt while she stepped out of the
tub. He pulled her into his arms.

“You’ll get wet, Coach.”

“This is a new technique for drying. I call
it press-and-dry.”

He hugged her so close she could feel the
steady throbbing of his heart. She placed her head over that
reassuring sound and rested there, sighing.

“Thank you, Dan.”

“I’m glad I was here for you.” He stepped
back and looked down at her. “I plan always to be here for
you.”

“Dan...”

“Shh...” He pressed a light kiss on her lips.
“Tonight we’re going to cuddle beside the fire and drink wine and
relax. I’m going to wave my magic wand and banish all thoughts that
aren’t cheerful and pleasant.”

She grinned at him. “Show me your magic
wand.”

“If I show you my magic wand, you’re liable
to forget yourself and tarnish my reputation beyond repair.”

“And then I suppose I’d have to make an
honest man of you by marrying you.”

“Exactly. And we’ll have no shotgun weddings,
madame.” He gave her back a brisk massage with the towel and helped
her into her pink terry-cloth robe.

Scooping her into his arms, he smiled down at
her. “You look like pink cotton candy in that robe. I think I’ll
eat you up, a little bit at a time.”

He growled playfully and nuzzled her neck.
She was still laughing when they got back to her den. The room was
cozy, filled with muted lamplight and the glow from the fireplace.
Dan had turned on the gas, and flames from the logs made even her
second-hand furniture look welcoming. Two glasses of wine sparkled
beside the fire.

Dan sat on the rug and arranged Janet on his
lap.

He tucked her robe around her bare legs and
made sure she was sitting solidly on his blue-jean-clad thighs.
“Comfortable?”

“Enormously. The fire feels good.”

“Fires are always cozier when they are
shared.” He handed her a glass of win. “Drink. Coach’s orders.”

Janet took another sip, then closed her eyes,
sighing.

“Dan? Why are you doing this?”

“Friendship.”

“That’s all?” She opened her eyes to look at
him.

He had meant to choose a different time to
tell her, a time when she was strong and composed. She was hurting
now, and vulnerable. And yet... the time seemed right.

“Because I love you, Janet.”

Her cheeks flushed and her eyes became
brighter. “What about your sweet, old-fashioned woman?”

“It’s a funny thing about dreams. I’ve had
that vision before me for years, and all along I was merely biding
my time until the right woman came along.” He traced the curve of
her cheek with his finger. “You’re that right woman, Janet. It took
me a long time to figure it out, but you’re the only woman I want,
the only woman I need, the only woman I’ll ever love.”

“Would you be terribly surprised if I told
you that I love you, too?”

“Not terribly.”

They laughed together.

“Who could not love a man with your supreme
self-confidence?”

“You used to call it arrogance.”