Bright Hopes

The next scene showed an interviewer asking her questions about her training, her motivation, her expectations. The time had flashed by in the wink of an eye, it had seemed back then. She remembered now only the excitement, the anticipation, the anxiety of wanting so badly to win.

Samson had finished his bowl and cocked his head, then ambled toward the door. Sniffing first, he soon gave a short series of barks. The knock that followed didn’t surprise Pam, since Sam had keen hearing. She pushed the hold button on the cassette and went to answer.

* * *

PATRICK HADN’T INTENDED to drop by. He stood in the hallway, a thoughtful frown on his face. Pam Casals was, after all, one of his fellow faculty members. It would be only polite to wish her well on the eve of the first football game. And Patrick had been brought up with the burden of good manners.

He’d stopped by to watch the boys practice even after he and Pam had had those rather heated words. But he hadn’t lingered, and he hadn’t walked over to talk with Pam again. He also hadn’t sought out any of the boys to ask how things were going. She’d made him feel small about that, despite his good intentions in doing it in the first place.

Basically, he wanted to be friends with Pam. They would be brushing shoulders at Tyler High and around town for months, perhaps years, to come. He was a friendly kind of guy; everyone said so. There was no reason for him to keep chipping away at her or vice versa. So he’d decided to come over, to mend this particular fence, to offer a truce.

Shuffling his feet, he swore under his breath. That wasn’t exactly it. The honesty his mother had instilled in him years ago had him facing an uncomfortable truth. He wanted to see Pam Casals, to be with her, to get to know her.

What was so terribly wrong with that? Patrick asked himself. She was attractive, personable, interesting. And like it or not, she seemed to invade his thoughts with increasing frequency. It was time to see if there was something between them. He raised his hand to knock again.

The door swung open and the smile slid from his face. How could a woman wear such ordinary clothes—faded jeans that hugged her slender legs and a short-sleeved blue sweatshirt—and still be extraordinarily feminine down to the pink-painted toes of her bare feet? Her hair wasn’t tied back, either, but rather hung to her shoulders, softly framing her face. And she wore lipstick, also pale pink. Patrick felt like a high school freshman calling on his first girl.

Clearing his throat, he met her wary eyes and found a smile. “Hi. I was...in the neighborhood, taking a walk. Just thought I’d stop in and wish you good luck for tomorrow’s game.”

Nervous. He was actually nervous. Pam couldn’t imagine why. However, she’d never been one to hold a grudge. But she would still proceed with caution. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

Samson shoved past her and came out to sniff at their visitor.

“That’s a big dog,” Patrick commented unnecessarily. “What’s his name?”

“Samson.”

Leaning down, he patted the dog’s shaggy head. “He needs a haircut.”

“Can’t cut Samson’s hair. It’ll remove all his strength, remember?” She smiled at his questioning look. “Like in the Bible.”

Patrick grinned. “Right. We wouldn’t want that.” He straightened. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Pam debated for a heartbeat, then stepped back. “No, you’re not. Would you like to come in?”

“Thanks.” Samson at his heels, he strolled in, his gaze taking in the attractive room. “I haven’t been inside since they redid this place. Very nice.”

“I think so.” Closing the door, she moved back to the couch. “Samson and I were just sharing a snack. Would you like some popcorn?”

He took a handful from the bowl she held out and sat down at the opposite end of the couch. The television, caught in a freeze-frame, captured his eye. “Were you watching something?”

“Nothing important.” Pam popped a few kernels of corn into her mouth.

“What was it?”

He was persistent. But she already knew that about him. She let out a sigh, feeling foolish. “My Olympic tapes. I watch them when I need a shot of confidence.”

“You worried about tomorrow?”

“Not exactly worried. But not wildly confident, either.”

Patrick nodded. He’d experienced the same feelings with his own teams. “You’ve worked really hard, and so have the boys. They’ll do all right.”

She hadn’t expected that, not from him. “I hope so.”

He nodded toward the television. “Could I see the tape?”

She’d never watched it with anyone outside her own family and teammates. Yet she could think of no way to refuse. Trying to look nonchalant, she pushed the play button on the remote control. She chewed popcorn nervously as the camera zeroed in on the twenty-one-year-old Pam and her competitors warming up just before the run. The announcer’s voice was almost breathy in his excitement, preparing the viewing audience for the actual event.

“You haven’t changed very much,” Patrick commented as he moved closer to her for another handful of popcorn.

“I prefer to think I look older.”

“Not much.” He turned to her. “Prettier, though.”

She felt a flush of pleasure as the gun went off and the women on screen began their run. The action saved her from responding to his compliment.

Silently, Patrick watched the event; saw Pam sprint ahead of her competitors easily and early, and never relinquish her lead. He thought her quite beautiful as she burst across the finish line, a look of giddy triumph on her face. He swung back to her. “Your finest hour, right?”

“So far,” Pam said, feeling a shade embarrassed as she snapped off the cassette.

Patrick stretched his arm along the couch back, studying her. “What could beat winning the gold?”

Setting down the nearly empty bowl, Pam shrugged. “I’ve always thought having a baby would be the ultimate achievement.” She sent him a quick, shy look. “At least for me.”

Her answer surprised him and shifted his opinion of her ever so slightly. Yet seeing her quiet beauty tonight, he had no difficulty thinking of her as very much a woman and not merely a football coach. “Do you have someone special in your life?” He watched her shake her head and wondered why her answer pleased him. “I’m surprised.”

She wouldn’t dwell on the past two empty years. Instead, she’d go way back. “I spent most of my teens and early twenties training, then more years traveling and competing. That kind of commitment takes time and leaves very little energy for building relationships.”

“You’ve never had a serious relationship?”

She was growing annoyed with the slant of their conversation and frowned in his direction. “I didn’t say that. I did have a relationship, but it didn’t last.”

“A fellow athlete?” He no longer asked himself why he wanted to know.

“Yes.”

“Did you break up because he couldn’t handle your success?”

He couldn’t know how far off he was. “No. We broke up because we wanted different things out of life.” Time to shift the focus. “What about you? Mid-thirties and still footloose and fancy-free. How come?”

Leaning back, he gazed toward the empty fireplace. “I came close once, about two years ago.”

“What happened?”

It was what hadn’t happened more than what had. “Kelly was nice enough, worked as a buyer for Gates Department Store in town. We got along quite well. But there just wasn’t enough between us. No fire, no enthusiasm. I think I was considering marriage to please my folks more than to please me.”

Pam nodded, understanding perfectly. Her father had often urged her to think about settling down.

Patrick smiled as he remembered something else. “I did go steady all through high school, with Hayley Ingalls. But after graduation, Hayley left to attend this elitist college out east. That wasn’t my cup of tea. Neither was she, I guess.”

“Another Ingalls. Related to Judson?”

“Yes, his great-niece. Judson’s brother, Herbert, and his family live in Milwaukee. At any rate, since Kelly I haven’t had a relationship that lasted more than a few weeks. Maybe I’m looking for the kind of woman who doesn’t exist anymore. Someone like my mother. She’s such a terrific lady. Raised four of us, ran the boardinghouse, and she’s been Dr. Phelps’s receptionist for years. Plus she supports my dad in whatever he wants to do.”

“You’re right. They don’t make women like that anymore.” She looked at him and they both laughed. “Actually, my mother was like that, too. She raised three of us, my two brothers and an overactive tomboy like me. And she worked in real estate, yet she was always there for my dad, as well. She died when I was thirteen, and I still miss her.”

“She never got to see you win the gold. What a shame.”

That thought always sobered Pam. It was her one regret about the Olympics, that her mother hadn’t been there to share the joy.

Patrick saw the sadness come and go on her face, and decided to lighten things. “Could I see your medals?” He watched her slowly turn to him, a frown on her face. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I’m trying to remember where I put them.”

Could she really be as ego-free as she sounded? Patrick wondered as he shook his head.

“Why are you so surprised? Do you think I should display them on the mantel or perhaps hang them around my neck?”

“I probably would.”

“Oh, you would not.” She jumped to her feet. “I remember now. They’re in my sock drawer. I’ll get them.” She was back in a flash and found him as she’d left him, looking toward her rather incredulously. She handed him the two cases.

Patrick flipped open one, then the other. He studied the dull silver medal, then the gleaming gold. Running his thumb over the hard surfaces, he found himself impressed. “Really something. Don’t you think you ought to have them framed and hung on your wall?”

Pam curled up in the corner of the couch, drawing her feet up under her. “Maybe I will one day, when I settle down somewhere permanently. It’s a little ostentatious to display them openly, though, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t. I think they should be a source of great pride to you.”

“They can be that in my sock drawer as well as on the wall. I know they’re there even if people who come to my home don’t see them.”

He closed the cases and handed them to her. “I suppose so. I just think something so outstanding should be shared.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” she said, knowing full well she wouldn’t.

“I’ll bet the guys on your team would love to see those medals.”

She set the cases on the table. That was the last thing she’d do. “I don’t believe in dwelling too much on the past—or the future. I believe in living for today.”

Patrick crossed his legs and leaned forward, wanting to make his point. “Of course, those boys aren’t going for the gold right now. They’re young and spirited and need understanding. They should be having fun.”

So there’d been a hidden agenda to his casual visit, Pam thought. She leaned her elbow on the back of the couch and toyed with her hair as she narrowed her eyes. “And you don’t think that I understand them, or that they’re having fun?”

She’d never worked with teenagers, didn’t really know them. Patrick tried to keep his tone level. “I didn’t say that. However, I think you push a bit harder than is good for young boys.”

“And you’ve come to this conclusion by dropping in on our practices for ten minutes a day? You should be scouting for pro teams or something more in keeping with your wonderful powers of observation and interpretation.”

“I don’t mean to offend you.”

“Really?” No, he’d meant to rile her enough to quit. “I’m not offended, Patrick. Actually, you’re behaving exactly as I’d have predicted. Like a know-it-all male who has his mind made up on every situation before he even encounters it.”

Why did it always come to this with Pam Casals? Patrick tried to appear reasonable. “I have an open mind. I—”

“Oh! You wouldn’t know an open mind if you fell into one. I thought, since the last time we shouted at each other, that maybe you’d come around. That perhaps you were going to, at the very least, reserve judgment until we were into the full season.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? I came to wish you well.”

“Did you?” What was there about this man that sent her emotions into overdrive every time they were together?

Patrick was fighting his churning emotions, too. But they’d not been fueled by temper. He was sitting close enough that he had only to move his hand slightly to touch her hair, and he couldn’t resist doing so. Incredibly soft, like silk. “Maybe not. Maybe I came for an altogether different reason, one that has nothing to do with football.”

Pam could feel her pulse suddenly pounding in her throat. “What reason is that?” Her voice sounded oddly thick.

A car horn blasted twice out on the street, and they both looked out the window. The car passed on by.

Pam turned back and found herself gazing into those fascinating blue eyes mere inches from hers. He was so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheeks. Instantly, she forgot the car, the subject they’d been discussing, everything.

Mesmerized by his gaze, she was helpless to pull back, nor did she really wish to. His hand moved to her cheek, his strong fingers warm against her skin as he traced the contours of her face. Until then, she hadn’t known she’d wanted his touch, hadn’t admitted she needed the simple human contact.

Patrick shifted his gaze to her lips and saw them tremble open. She was as nervous as he, and oddly enough, the thought relaxed him. He’d wanted to discover if there was anything between them. Even before he lowered his mouth to hers, he knew there was.

He’d been afraid she might pull back, but she didn’t. Just a taste, he told himself. Just a sample to satisfy his curiosity. But even as he dared to lean in, to deepen the kiss, he craved to know more.

Her movements were hesitant, belying his impression of her take-charge personality. Her small hands shifted to his shoulders almost reluctantly, somewhat awkwardly, as if without her conscious permission. Her lips parted in invitation, yet there was a curious shyness to her surrender.

She shouldn’t have allowed this to begin, Pam thought through a haze of sensation. She shouldn’t want anything resembling an involvement, for it only led to heartbreak. She shouldn’t need a man’s touch, especially not this man’s. Yet even before his lips touched hers, she knew she’d wanted him from the first moment she’d seen him on the village green.

She’d known passion before, had tasted desire in a man’s kiss. She’d experienced a demanding lover, the heated madness a man could bring to a woman. But she’d never sampled such patience, such gentleness, such slow seduction. She’d never imagined how captivating tenderness could be.

Yet, as his arms slowly slid around her, bringing her body in closer contact with his, she sensed that deeper needs lay hidden beneath that solid chest. Endlessly, his lips moved over hers, while his heart beat wildly against her own. For Pam, the world suddenly narrowed to this room, to this man and to these incredible feelings he had awakened in her.

He had to stop, Patrick told himself even as his mouth slanted over hers, seeking a better angle. Her scent wrapped itself around him, conjuring up visions over which he had no control. He wanted to pick her up, carry her off and set her down on cool, sweet-smelling sheets, to lie with her and love her all night long.

But his good sense warred with his needs. This wasn’t a woman to be treated casually. And Tyler was a small town where people talked. Pam was new here, a teacher with a reputation to protect. And he was the hometown boy, who couldn’t violate the trust she’d placed in him by opening her door tonight.

With more reluctance than he’d ever experienced, he lifted his head and drew back. He watched her eyes slowly open and saw the remnants of hazy passion in their brown depths. She blinked, and he opened his mouth to speak, but she quickly raised her fingers to his lips.

“Don’t say anything, please. If you apologize, I think I’ll cry.”

Her trembling admission moved him deeply. Gently he tucked her head under his chin and sat stroking her hair, wondering how one kiss could possibly have affected him so strongly.

Pam held on to him more fiercely than when he’d been kissing her. Bob had been out of her life for many months now, and hadn’t held her for some time even before he’d left. How could she have known how badly she needed to be held, to be cherished, if only briefly?

It had been like a raw hunger inside her, one she hadn’t admitted even to herself. The very nature of her illness had had her isolating herself from friends and family alike, wanting so desperately to go it alone. She had been handled, probed and examined endlessly by competent medical hands, but all the while she’d been longing for the gentle touch she’d found today. And who’d have thought it would come from such a surprising source as Patrick Kelsey?

Pam sat up, feeling a bit more in control. Forcing herself, she raised her eyes to his and found him looking at her tenderly. It was almost her undoing.

“I wasn’t going to apologize,” Patrick said. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the afternoon I tackled you.” He smiled then, somewhat sheepishly. “I was too stubborn to admit it, though.”

She wanted to confess that she’d felt the same, but she wasn’t prepared for where such an admission might lead. Besides, she wasn’t certain if she’d wanted him to hold her, or if anyone would have done, and he’d been handy. A troublesome thought. She averted her gaze. “I’m sorry I got a little emotional on you there. I don’t usually, but it’s been an unsettling couple of weeks.”

“I understand.”

He didn’t of course, but she wasn’t about to correct him. Feeling nonplussed, she wished he would go now and leave her to work her way through her tangled feelings alone. But he sat there, calmly studying her. Nervously, she got to her feet, somewhat amazed that she could stand without weaving.

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