“They look like they all know, don’t they? All these people look so sure of themselves.”

“Is this leading somewhere?”

She looked at the napkin in her hand. “Did I eat my hot dog?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Damn.”

“I get the feeling there’s something bothering you.”

“It’s my life,” she said. “My life is bothering me.”

“That narrows it down.”

“And it’s all your fault. You’re a bad influence. You’ve got me having fun.”

“Want to run that by me again?”

“I haven’t the least inclination to go home and work on my thesis.”

“Honey, there’s nothing wrong with taking a day off once in a while…”

“No. You don’t understand. Not once in a while. I’m talking permanent. I’m not inclined to go work on my dissertation ever. I hate my dissertation. Haven’t you noticed how easily I’m distracted?”

“I attributed that to my extraordinary powers of persuasion and my mind-numbing sex appeal.”

“There’s that, too.” She looked around and flapped her arms. “Maybe I’ll just chuck it and get a job here. I could sell sno-cones or take tickets on the merry-go-round.”

He twirled his finger around a tendril of hair that had escaped the ponytail. “The merry-go-round doesn’t sound so bad, but I don’t think you’d be happy retailing crushed ice all day.”

“Lately I’m not at all sure what would make me happy.”

“Sounds serious.”

“I’ve always had direction to my life. I always knew exactly what I wanted. I always had a goal.”

“And now?”

She gave her head a little shake. “You ever have a thought that’s so frightening you’re afraid to say it out loud?” Her eyes locked with his. “I’m in the final stage of my dissertation. This time next year I’ll have my doctorate… and I don’t care anymore. I haven’t really cared for months, maybe years, but I’ve been afraid to admit it. Somewhere along the line I lost touch with myself. I was so busy working to reach my goal that I didn’t realize the goal was no longer something I truly wanted.”

It was hard for him to believe she didn’t want to pursue a career in geriatric counseling. Until this moment she’d seemed so dedicated, so enthusiastic about it. “Maybe you’re just tired.”

Daisy sighed. She couldn’t deny she was tired. She went through the motions and made a lot of energetic noise, but underneath it all she was weary. It had come on her gradually, and if it hadn’t been for Steve Crow, she might not have noticed it at all. Steve provided the contrast that made her see the picture more clearly.

She wasn’t tired today. And she hadn’t been tired on the kitchen table. She had enough stamina to run a twenty-eight-year-old cop into the ground. But she could barely keep her mind from wandering when she sat down to write and edit.

“Maybe you’re right,” she said, sending him a weak smile in apology and embarrassment. “Sorry I turned weird on you, but I was sitting here watching the people go by, and suddenly I was just about knocked over with a flash of insight. I suppose it had been lurking in my mind for a long time, and I’d never before let down my guard enough for it to surface. It was like the lid to Pandora’s box unexpectedly flying open and having the ugly truth pop out at me.”

“Do you really hate your dissertation?”

“I hate working on it.”

“Ah-hah.”

“What ah-hah? You aren’t going to tell me it’s PMS, are you?”

“That would be insulting. Only women can make remarks like that.”

“So what then?”

She was genuinely hurting, he realized. Under all the assertive confidence was a scrap of self-doubt. And she was obviously horrified that she’d blurted out her discovery to him. He suspected she needed time to get used to the idea herself before she could comfortably discuss it with someone else. He wanted to give her that time. He wanted to make her smile and push her responsibilities aside for a day.

“It’s very simple,” he said. “It’s all stress-related. You just need to relax.” His eyes grew lazy. His mouth quirked into a teasing smile. “You need to spend more time on the kitchen table.”

Daisy gratefully followed his lead back to playful flirting and tried to look thoughtful. “You could be right. I’ve been sexually deprived for most of my adult life. It could be catching up to me.”

“Exactly. If we concentrated very hard on this problem, we could have it solved in no time.”

“It’s worth a try,” Daisy said. “How long do you think it will take?”

“Depends how hard we concentrate.”

“I wouldn’t want to injure you.”

“I’m insured.”

“Lloyds of London?”

“Blue Cross of Virginia.”

At five-thirty they met Kevin and Elsie. Elsie’s red Converse high-top All Stars were soaked, her hat was off, and her hair looked like it had been styled and spray-starched by Don King.

“Water rides,” Elsie said. “They were a blast.” She shifted her eyes to Schmidt and his partner. They were standing at a distance, watching from the shade of a Belgian waffle stand. “I feel kind of guilty having all this fun when I’m supposed to be protecting you. Of course, I suppose we have to have someone watching out for Kevin, too. We wouldn’t want him kidnapped or nothing.”

“Man, this is the best day of my life,” Kevin said. “We got the front seat on the Rebel Yell. Then Elsie showed me how to make the old-time cars stall so that we held up the whole ride and the attendant had to come give us a push. You should have been there, Daisy. Some big guy with a beer can tattooed on his forehead tried to muscle in ahead of us on the bumper cars and Elsie told him if he didn’t watch his manners, she was gonna hurt him real bad!”

“I don’t put up with bad manners,” Elsie said.

Daisy and Steve nervously glanced at the pocketbook hanging on Elsie’s arm.

“You didn’t have to use your pocketbook, did you?” Daisy asked.

“Nope.Haven’t used my pocketbook all day.Too bad, too. I’m feeling in top form, but the opportunity hasn’t presented itself yet.”

“Well, the day isn’t over,” Steve said.

Daisy elbowed him hard in the ribs. “I think it’s best if you avoid using your pocketbook,” she said to Elsie. “Too many kids running around.”

“You’re probably right. We’re having a good time anyway, aren’t we, Kevin?”

“Yeah,” Kevin said. “The best part was when Elsie lost her false teeth.”

“Opened my mouth to yell on the Berserker and they fell right out,” Elsie said. “Was the darnedest thing. Lucky the lady in front of me caught them.”

“She didn’t catch them,” Kevin said. “They snagged onto her hair.”

“It’s true,” Elsie agreed. “I’ve never seen anything like it. She had hair out to here. Don’t know how she ever got it that way. And the teeth just kind of caught hold in all that frizz.”

***

They left the park at nine-thirty. Kevin and Elsie instantly fell asleep in the backseat, and Daisy sat in the front with her hands locked in her lap, trying to maintain some control over herself. She wasn’t sure what the hands would do if left to their own devices. She was afraid they’d do something silly and corny, like reach for a star. And she knew for certain that they’d eventually gravitate to something a lot closer and much more substantial.

“I’m glad we went on that roller coaster just before leaving,” she said. “It was great.”

“You’re made of stern stuff.”

“Don’t ever forget it.”

Вы читаете The Rocky Road to Romance
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