turned to her and grinned, relaxing his grip on the wheel, "I grew up in a small town on the Ohio River. My childhood lay somewhere between Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer. I had many narrow escapes on that river."
"And then what?" she asked.
"Well," he said, with a serious expression, "college was not part of my parents' dream. After graduating from high school at seventeen, I was told to get a job in the local mill. I joined the Army instead, was recruited into the Special Forces, and sent to Nam. But enough about me." He reached for her left hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it. "Kate, do you believe in fate?"
"What do you mean?"
"I think you and I were fated to meet." he replied. They rode on in silence, smiling at each other now and then.
They picked up some food at a fast-food restaurant and kept driving. At last they exited I-95 and found the St. Simons Causeway. They had called ahead to Kate's grandmother, who had said she would alert the building security and wait up for them. Kate introduced them. The sandy-haired, muscular, forty-six-year-old shook hands with a statuesque, eighty-year-old female wearing her thick gray hair in a short bob.
"I now know where Kate's good looks and her beautiful name come from," exclaimed Rod.
Kathryn smiled and said, "Compliments entitle you to a drink, young man. What would you like?"
"Please, a gin and tonic, ma'am," answered Rod.
Going to the closet bar off her living room, with its walls painted a soft yellow, Kathryn made drinks for the three of them, but after a few sips on hers, she told them she was going to bed, and they could work out their own sleeping arrangements.
It was a warm night with a full moon; and although tired, Kate and Rod stood on her grandmother's balcony, gazing at the sparkling ocean. Rod told her he had never in his whole life felt for anyone the way he felt about her. He wanted it to never end. He gathered her in his arms, kissing her lips, and the hollow of her neck. After unbuttoning her blouse and opening it up, he kissed her shoulders. Kate took him by the hand and led him to the room her grandmother maintained for her. Kate moved around so much her grandmother's condo was her permanent address, even though she wasn't there too often. He gave her an inquiring look. But Kate only smiled and started unbuttoning his shirt.
* * *
By the time the women had risen, Rod had washed their drink glasses from last night and had found the coffeepot and made coffee. Kathryn told him if he would promise to do that each morning he could stay forever, but next time he could put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.
Rod did just that for his entire stay. He always insisted upon loading the dishwasher and washing the dishes. Even though Kate had fallen hopelessly in love, her reporter brain kept trying to tell her that was odd. Maybe his mother had trained him.
They spent much of the day together walking on the beach and playing in the surf. She was afraid to ask him when he had to leave.
By late afternoon they returned indoors to take showers and recoup. Rod said to Kathryn and Kate. "I remember years ago stopping by a restaurant on St. Simons called Veronica's Courtyard. I really liked it. Does it still exist?" They both answered that it did. "Good. I would like to take you there for dinner."
While they went to change clothes, Kathryn called and made reservations.
Rod went into the bathroom first. Standing in front of her opened closet looking for something to wear, Kate glanced down at Rod's suitcase sitting on the floor to the right of the closet. He had left the lid up. Partially sticking out from underneath some shirts was a gun and holster. Why would he have a gun? Whom had she so unknowingly given her heart to? A bad feeling was developing in the pit of her stomach, and she knew she would have to confront him.
Veronica's Courtyard proved to be as enjoyable as ever. They inhaled the food, along with the live music. After dinner Rod told them. "I have to leave tonight." Heavy silence filled the car as they drove back to the condo.
"Thanks for a lovely evening, but it's my bedtime," announced Kathryn. "I hope I'll see you again, Rod." She then excused herself.
Rod and Kate walked out on the balcony and stood side by side, watching the waves rolling in. It had turned into a cool southern winter night with a soft breeze floating around them. "I hate leaving you, Kate," Rod said tenderly, putting his arm around her. "I'd like to wake up each morning the rest of my life and see you."
Backing up and turning to face him, she asked, "Then why do you have to go?"
"I have to that's all. I have no other choice," he said and moved toward her, trying to close the gap between them.
"Why do you carry a gun?" she blurted out, backing up farther.
"Why were you snooping in my suitcase?" he asked, feigning annoyance.
"The gun was in plain sight. You left the bag open," she snapped, raising her voice and starting to tremble.
"I carry a gun for protection because I travel so much. Lots of people do," he said, quickly moving toward her and putting his arms around her. "As I told you earlier, I've never felt this way before. Please trust me, Kate. Here's a phone number you can call to get in touch with me. I'll call you in one week." After kissing her fervently, he turned and walked back inside.
With one of her grandmother's shawls wrapped around her, she remained on the balcony, sitting in a deck chair and staring at the moonlit ocean. A couple of hours later, she went to bed alone.
The next morning over breakfast, Kate said, "Grandmother, we need to talk. I'm sorry I ran after the funeral, but I couldn't face Tom's death. I buried myself in my job instead. I wouldn't even let myself cry at his funeral. I'm so ashamed." Tears flowed down her face and wrenching sobs forced themselves out of her throat.
Kathryn cried too. "It' s okay, Kate. We have always been too stoical in this family." They reached out for each other, and held on while they cried. Afterwards, Kate told her grandmother that she wanted to take some time off from work and stay with her.
One week later Rod called. He told her that while driving he had listened to Lionel Richie sing "Deep River Woman" over and over. He conveyed to her that he had been able to tell her things he had never been able to tell anyone, and he was missing her more than he had thought possible. "I love you and I'll call you in a week."
Having missed him dreadfully, she said that she loved him too.
* * *
Another week passed, but this time Kate did not receive a call. She waited one more week but still no call came. Using her aunt's kitchen wall phone, she punched in the number Rod had given her. A man answered. She told him she was a close friend of Rod's, and he had given her this number. The man said Rod was his friend and client, for he was his stockbroker. He also said he had not heard from him in a couple of months; but when he did, he would give him her message. Feeling queasy and short of breath, she had to sit down at the glass and metal breakfast table. For the first time in her life she was wholeheartedly in love and it felt awful.
Slowly mustering her courage, she thought, Two can play this game. She called an editor friend who worked for one of the wire services.
“Kate, what a surprise, I was beginning to wonder when you were going to call,” answered Bob, a veteran newspaperman who was overweight
