Rosemary guffawed. “Don’t you give me that.” She put a hand to her forehead. “You’ve had some experience, you told him. Some experience meaning you’ve taken on the likes of Bruce Lee?”
“Bruce Lee doesn’t practice true hapkido,” Casey said.
Rosemary rolled her eyes.
Casey walked back into the room and bowed to the mat before stepping on.
“Techniques,” Damon said. “Pair up. Taylor.” He spoke to a black belt. “You’re with her.” He indicated Casey.
“Yes, sir.”
Casey and her partner didn’t so much practice techniques as spar, working each other through various forms and patterns. Sweat ran in rivulets down Casey’s face as she circled, struck, and parried, and her jacket clung to her back. She could feel the moves coming back, as if they’d never left, as if she’d been keeping them at bay for just this moment.
“Enough,” Damon finally said. “Hyung.”
Casey sighed, shaking out her limbs, and lined up in the back row, where she’d begun class. All eight students began the forms, patterns of movement memorized and practiced time and again. By the fifth form only she and the black belts remained, all of them moving, striking, blocking…dancing together.
When they’d finished the patterns the rest of the belts joined them, and they repeated the bowing ceremony, bowing to the flags, to Damon, to the black belts. Casey stood, walked off the mat, and turned, bowing to it.
“I know your teacher,” Damon said quietly.
She looked up.
“Doug Custer and I studied together under Master Timmerman.”
She cleared her throat, wanting to run. It had been a mistake to come here.
“Your secret is safe,” Damon said. “Whatever it is.”
She looked at the floor, then back at his piercing eyes. “How could you tell?”
“That you have a secret?”
“That I studied with Master Custer.”
He smiled. “You spread your fingers on your palm strikes. You circle after an attack. The signs are there.”
Casey laughed under her breath. “I guess I’m not as smart as I thought I was, coming here.”
He shook his head. “He will not know I have seen you.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “If that is what you wish.”
“It is.”
He glanced at the white belt. “It doesn’t work for you. If you come back, wear your real belt.”
“Yes, sir.” She bowed, and stepped away.
“Casey.”
She turned back.
“You have a talent not many possess. You must realize that.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He looked at her a moment longer before dismissing her with a nod.
She escaped to the dressing room, but it was locked. She stood in the corner of the waiting area, arms crossed, looking at the floor, until the three black belts emerged. One paused, but she eased past him, into the changing room, where she closed and locked the door. She dropped to the bench and clutched her hands together between her knees, to keep them from shaking.
Rosemary soon followed, peering at Casey over the top of her car. “You…” She shook her head.
Casey looked away, the confidence of the classroom fading as she considered getting back into the car.
“So what do you think of Master Damon?” Rosemary asked.
Casey puffed out her cheeks. “He’s too smart.”
Rosemary laughed, the tinkling sound echoing from the buildings. “Smart?”
“He is.”
“Of course he is. But more than that…” She leaned over the car, lowering her voice. “He’s a dreamboat.”
Casey looked at Rosemary, at her eyes sparkling under her orange hair, and shook her head. What some women wouldn’t do for a man.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Hey, Casey.”
“Eric.”
He sat on the front porch with his mother, his fingers tapping the arms of the rocker. When Casey got to the top of the steps, he stood. “So. Are you ready to go?”
“In a minute. Let me take this upstairs.” She indicated her Dobak, which lay damp and smelly in her arms.
“Here,” Lillian said, holding out her arms. “I’ll wash it.”
Casey looked down at it. “You’re sure?” And to Eric, “I really should take a shower.”
Lillian smiled. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen sweaty clothes.”
Eric shrugged. “Or that I’ve smelled sweat.”
“Well, okay. Thanks, Lillian. I appreciate it.”
Lillian took the bundle. “Now you two go on. Don’t want to keep the pizza folks waiting.”
Eric held a hand out for Casey to precede him. She went down the steps, then turned around. “Thanks, Rosemary. That was…good, I guess.”
Rosemary smiled. “Oh, it was good for me, too.”
“Yeah.” Casey shook her head, laughing. “I guess so.”
Rosemary gave a hearty chuckle and plunked down in Eric’s rocker. “Toodleoo. Have a fun time!”
Casey shook her head and walked the rest of the way to the Camry, where Eric was waiting in the driver’s seat. Casey gritted her teeth, opened the door, and forced herself to sit.
She was traveling in way too many cars these days.
She shut the door. “I hope you’re a better driver than Rosemary.”
“Oh, much better. But then, most people are.”
Casey had to agree.
They pulled away from the curb, and Casey lifted her hand to the two women, who waved from the porch. She rested her head against the headrest, closing her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Eric said.
She kept her eyes closed. “For what?” Although she knew.
“For not telling you. You know, about my family…” His voice drifted off.
She rolled her head to the left and looked at him. “You didn’t have to tell me.”
“But—”
“What have I told you?”
He glanced at her. “You mean about yourself?”
“Yes.”
He bit his lip, thinking. Finally, his face cleared, and he smiled. “That your name is Casey Smith.”
“Right. Anything else?”
He gave a little laugh. “Not a thing.”
She turned her head back to center, looking out the windshield. “So see? Nothing to be sorry about.”
They drove quietly for several minutes. Eric really was a much better driver than Rosemary. Casey found
