Laughter in the Rain, page 6
The painting class remained a blur in her mind as she hurried out the door to the café across the street. She’d met Logan there after every class so far. He’d come; Abby was convinced of it. She pictured how their eyes would meet and intuitively they’d know that being apart like this was wrong for them. Logan would walk to her table, slip in beside her, and take her hand. Everything would be there in his eyes for her to read.
The waitress gave Abby a surprised glance and asked if she was sitting alone tonight as she handed her the menu. Dejectedly, Abby acknowledged that she was alone…at least for now.
When Logan entered the café, Abby straightened, her heart racing. He looked as good as he always did. What she didn’t see was any outward sign of unhappiness…or relief at her presence. But, she reminded herself, Logan wasn’t one to display his emotions openly. Their eyes met and he gave her an abrupt nod before sliding into a booth on the opposite side of the room.
So much for daydreams, Abby mused. Well, fine, he could sit there all night, but she refused to budge. Logan would have to come to her. Determinedly, she studied the menu, pretending indifference. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He now shared his booth with two other guys and was chatting easily with his friends. Abby’s heart sank.
* * *
—
“I’m telling you, Mother,” Abby said the next afternoon in her mother’s kitchen. “He’s blown this whole thing out of proportion.”
“What makes you say that?” Glenna Carpenter closed the oven door and set the meatloaf on top of the stove.
“Logan isn’t even talking to me.”
“It doesn’t seem like there’s been much opportunity. But I wouldn’t worry. He will tonight at the game.”
“What makes you so sure of that?” Abby hopped down from her position on the countertop.
Glenna straightened and wiped her hands on her ever-present terry-cloth apron. “Things have a way of working out for the best, Abby,” she continued nonchalantly.
“Mom, you’ve been telling me that all my life and I’ve yet to see it happen.”
Glenna chuckled, slowly shaking her head. “It happens every day of our lives. Just look around.” Deftly, she turned the meatloaf onto a platter. “By the way, didn’t you say your game’s at six o’clock?”
Abby nodded and glanced at her watch, surprised that the time had passed so quickly. “Gotta rush. Bye, Mom.” She gave her mother a peck on the cheek. “Wish me well.”
“With Logan or the game?” Teasing blue eyes so like her own twinkled merrily.
“Both!” Abby laughed and was out the door.
Glenna followed her to the porch, and Abby felt her mother’s sober gaze as she hurried down the front steps and to her car.
* * *
—
Almost everyone was on the field warming up when Abby got there. Immediately her gaze sought out Logan. He was in the outfield, pitching to another of the male players. Abby tried to suppress the emotion that charged through her. Who would’ve believed she’d feel so lost and unhappy without Logan? If he saw that Abby had arrived, he gave no indication.
“Hi, Abby,” Patty called, waving from the bench.
Abby smiled absently. “Hi.”
“Wait until you see me bat.” Patty beamed happily, pretending to swing at an imaginary pitch. Then, placing her hand over her eyes as the fantasy ball flew into left field, she added, “I think I’ll be up for an award by the end of the season.”
“Good.” Abby was preoccupied as she stared out at Logan. He looked so attractive. So vital. Couldn’t he have the decency to develop some lines at his eyes or a few gray hairs? He had to be suffering. She was, although it wasn’t what she’d wanted or expected.
“Logan took me to see the Twins play on Monday night and he gave me a few pointers afterward,” Patty continued.
Abby couldn’t believe what she was hearing. A few pointers? I’ll just bet he did! Logan and Patty?
The shock must have shown in her eyes because Patty added hurriedly, “You don’t mind, do you? When Logan phoned, I asked him about the two of you and he said you’d both decided to start seeing other people.”
“No, I don’t mind,” Abby returned flippantly, remembering her impression last week—that Patty had a crush on him. “Why should I?”
“I…I just wanted to be sure.”
If Patty thought she’d get an award for baseball, Abby was sure someone should nominate her for an Oscar. By the end of the game her face hurt from her permanent smile. She laughed, cheered, joked, and tried to suggest that she hadn’t a care in the world. At bat she was dynamite. Her pain was readily transferred to her swing and she didn’t hit anything less than a double and got two home runs.
Once, when Logan had patted her affectionately on the back to congratulate her, Abby had shot him an angry glare. It’d taken him only one day. One day to ask Patty out. That hurt.
“Abby?” Logan’s dark brows rose questioningly. “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” Although she gave him a blank look, she realized her face must have divulged her feelings. “What could possibly be wrong? By the way, Tate said hello. He wanted to be here tonight, but something came up.” Abby knew her lie was childish, but she couldn’t help her reaction.
She didn’t speak to him again.
Gathering the equipment after the game, Abby tried not to remember the way Patty had positioned herself next to Logan on the bench during the game and how she made excuses to be near him at every opportunity.
“You’re coming for pizza, aren’t you?” Dick asked Abby for the second time.
Abby wanted to go. The get-togethers after the game were often more fun than the game itself. But she couldn’t bear the curious stares that were sure to follow when Logan sat next to Patty and started flirting with her.
“Not tonight,” Abby responded, opening her eyes wide to give Dick a look of false candor. “I’ve got other plans.” Abby noticed the way Logan’s mouth curved in a mirthless smile. He’d heard that and come to his own conclusions. Good!
Abby regretted her hasty refusal later. The apartment was hot and muggy. Even Dano, her temperamental cat, didn’t want to spend time with her.
After a cool shower, Abby fixed a meal of scrambled eggs, toast, and a chocolate bar. She wasn’t the least bit hungry, but eating was at least a distraction.
She couldn’t concentrate on her newest suspense novel, so she sat on the sofa and turned on the TV. A rerun of an old sitcom helped block out the image of Patty in Logan’s arms. Abby didn’t doubt that Logan had kissed Patty. The bright, happy look in her eyes had said as much.
Uncrossing her legs, Abby released a bitter sigh. She shouldn’t care if Logan kissed a hundred women. But she did. It bothered her immensely—regardless of her own hopes and fantasies about Tate. She recognized how irrational she was being, and her confusion only increased.
With the television blaring to drown out the echo of Patty telling her about the fun she’d had with Logan, Abby reached for the chocolate bar and peeled off the wrapper. The sweet flavor wouldn’t ease the discomfort in her stomach, because Abby knew it wasn’t chocolate she wanted, it was Logan. Feeling wretched again, she set the candy bar aside and leaned her head back, closing her eyes.
By Friday evening, Abby was convinced all the contradictory feelings she had about Logan could be summed up in one sentence: The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. It was another of those clichés her mother seemed so fond of and spouted on a regular basis. She was surprised Glenna hadn’t dragged this one into their conversations about Logan and Tate. The idea of getting involved with Tate had been appealing when she was seeing Logan steadily. It stood to reason that the reverse was also true—that Logan would miss her and lose interest in Patty. At least that was what Abby told herself repeatedly as she dressed for her date.
With her long brown hair a frame around her oval face, she put on more makeup than usual. With a secret little smile she applied an extra dab of perfume. Tate wouldn’t know what hit him! The summer dress was one of her best—a pale blue sheath that could be dressed up or down, so she was as comfortable wearing it to a movie as she would be to a formal dinner.
When Tate arrived, he had on a pair of cords and a cotton shirt, open at the neck, sleeves rolled up. It was an undeniably sexy look.
“You’re stunning,” he said appreciatively, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
“Thank you.” Abby couldn’t restrain her disappointment. He’d looked at her the way one would a sister and his kiss wasn’t that of a lover—or someone who intended to be a lover.
Still, they joked easily as they waited in line for the latest blockbuster action movie and Abby was struck by their camaraderie. It didn’t take her long to realize that their relationship wasn’t hot and fiery, sparked by mutual attraction. It was…friendly. Warm. Almost lacking in imagination. Ironically, that had been exactly her complaint about Logan…
Tate bought a huge bucket of popcorn, which they shared in the darkened theater. But Abby noted that he appeared restless, often shifting his position, crossing and uncrossing his legs. Once, when he assumed she wasn’t watching, he laid his head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes. Was Tate in pain? she wondered.
Abby’s attention drifted from the movie. “Tate,” she whispered. “Are you okay?”
He immediately opened his eyes. “Of course. Why?”
Rather than refer to his restlessness, she simply shook her head and pretended an interest in the screen.
When they’d finished the popcorn, Tate reached for her hand. But Abby noted that it felt tense. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was nervous. But Abby couldn’t imagine what possible reason Tate would have to be nervous around her.
The evening was hot and close when they emerged from the theater.
“Are you hungry?” Tate asked, taking her hand, and again, Abby was struck by how unnaturally tense he seemed.
“For something cold and sinful,” she answered with a teasing smile.
“Beer?”
“No,” Abby said with a laugh. “Ice cream.”
Tate laughed, too, and hand in hand they strolled toward the downtown area, where Tate assured her he knew of an old-fashioned ice-cream place. The Swanson Parlor was decorated in pink—pink walls, pink chairs, pink linen tablecloths, and pink-dressed waitresses.
Abby decided quickly on a banana split and mentioned it to Tate.
“That does sound good. I’ll have one, too.”
Abby shut her menu and set it aside. This was the third time they’d gone for something to eat, and each time Tate had ordered the same thing she did. He didn’t seem insecure. But maybe she was being oversensitive. Besides, it didn’t make any difference.
Their rapport made conversation comfortable and lighthearted. They talked about the movie and other films they’d both seen. Abby discussed some of her favorite mystery novels and Tate described animal behavior he’d witnessed. But several times Abby noted that his laughter was forced. His gaze would become intent and his sudden seriousness would throw the conversation off stride.
“I love Minneapolis,” Abby said as they left the ice-cream parlor. “It’s such a livable city.”
“I agree,” Tate commented. “Do you want to go for a walk?”
“Yes, let’s.” Abby tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow.
Tate looked at her and smiled, but again Abby noted the sober look in his eyes. “I was born in California,” he began.
“What’s it like there?” Abby had been to New York, but she’d never visited the West Coast.
“I don’t remember much. My family moved to New Mexico when I was six.”
“Hot, I’ll bet,” Abby said.
“It’s funny, the kinds of things you remember. I don’t recall what the weather was like. But I have a very clear memory of my first-grade teacher in Albuquerque, Ms. Grimes. She was pretty and really tall.” Tate chuckled. “But I suppose all teachers are tall to a six-year-old. We moved again in the middle of that year.”
“You seem to have moved around quite a bit,” Abby said, wondering why Tate had started talking about himself so freely. Although they had talked about a number of different subjects, she knew little about his personal life.
“We moved five times in as many years,” Tate continued. “We had no choice, really. My dad couldn’t hold down a job, and every time he lost one we’d pack up and move, seeking another start, another escape.” Tate’s face hardened. “We came to Minneapolis when I was in the eighth grade.”
“Did your father finally find his niche in life?” Abby sensed that Tate was revealing something he rarely shared with anyone. She felt honored, but surprised. Their relationship was promising in some ways and disappointing in others, but the fact that he trusted her with his pain, his difficult past, meant a lot. She wondered why he’d chosen her as a confidante.
“No, Dad died before he ever found what he was looking for.” There was no disguising the anguish in his voice. “My feelings for my father are as confused now as they were then.” He turned toward Abby, his expression solemn. “I hated him and I loved him.”
“Did your life change after he was gone?” Abby’s question was practically a whisper, respecting the deep emotion in Tate’s eyes.
“Yes and no. A couple of years later, I dropped out of school and got a job as a mechanic. My dad taught me a lot, enough to persuade Jack Bessler to hire me.”
“And you’ve been there ever since?”
His mouth quirked at one corner. “Ever since.”
“You didn’t graduate from high school, then, did you?”
“No.”
That sadness was back in his voice. “And you resent that?” Abby asked softly.
“I may have for a time, but I never fit in a regular classroom. I guess in some ways I’m a lot like my dad. Restless and insecure. But I’m much more content working at the garage than I ever was in a classroom.”
“You’ve worked there for years now,” Abby said, contradicting his assessment of himself. “How can you say you’re restless?”
He didn’t acknowledge her question. “There’s a chance I could buy the business. Jack’s ready to retire and wants out from under the worry.”
“That’s what you really want, isn’t it, Tate?”
“The business is more than I ever thought I’d have.”
“But something’s stopping you?” Abby could sense this more from his tension than from what he said.
“Yes.” The stark emotion in his voice startled her.
“Are you worried about not having graduated from high school? Because, Tate, you can now. There’s a program at the community center where I take painting classes. You can get what they call a GED—General Education Diploma, I think is what it means. Anyway, all you need to do is talk to a counselor and—”
“That’s not it.” Tate interrupted her harshly and ran a hand across his brow.
“Then what is it?” Abby asked, her smile determined.
Tate hesitated until the air between them was electric, like a storm ready to explode in the muggy heat.
“Where are you going with this discussion? What can I do to help? I don’t understand.” One minute Tate was exposing a painful part of his past, and the next he was growling at her. What was it with men? Something had been bothering him all evening. First he’d been restless and uneasy, then brooding and thoughtful, now angry. Nothing made sense.
And it wasn’t going to. Abruptly, he asked her if she was ready to leave.
He hardly said a word to her when he dropped her off at her apartment.
For a moment, Abby was convinced he’d never ask her out again.
“What about Sunday?” he finally said. “We can bring a picnic.”
“Okay.” But after this evening, Abby wasn’t sure. He didn’t sound as if he really wanted her company. “How about three o’clock?”
“Fine.” His response was clipped.
Again he gave her a modest kiss, more a light brushing of their mouths than anything passionate or intense. Not a real kiss, in her opinion.
She leaned against the closed door of her apartment, not understanding why Tate was bothering to take her out. It seemed apparent that his interest in her wasn’t romantic—although she didn’t know what it actually was, didn’t know what he wanted or needed from her. And for that matter, the bone-melting effect she’d experienced at their first meeting had long since gone. Tate was a handsome man, but he wasn’t what she’d expected.
Maybe the grass wasn’t so green after all.
* * *
—
After a restless Sunday morning, Abby decided that she’d go for a walk in the park. Logan often did before he came over to her place, and she hoped to run into him. She’d make a point of letting him know that their meeting was pure coincidence. They’d talk. Somehow she’d inform him—casually, of course—that things weren’t working out as she’d planned. In fact, yesterday, during her lesson with Mai-Ling, Tate didn’t come to the park, and she’d secretly been relieved. Despite today’s picnic, she suspected that their romance was over before it could really start. And now she had doubts about its potential, anyway. Hmm. Maybe she’d hint to Logan that she missed his company. That should be enough to break the ice without either of them losing their pride. And that was what this came down to—pride.
The park was crowded by the time Abby arrived. Entering the grounds, she scanned the lawns for him and released a grateful sigh to find that he was sitting on a park bench, reading. By himself. To her relief, Patty wasn’t with him.
