Damon, Lee (20 page)

"Are you lecturing like that tomorrow?" O'Mara asked with the air of a reporter conducting an interview. "Do you think it will increase or decrease attendance? Is this intended to start a new fad, or is it perhaps a live demonstration of a fifteenth-century coiffure?"

"No, no, O'Mara," Kitt exclaimed, "you've got it all wrong. It's a new style for athletes. Now that the coaches can't insist on short hair anymore, this is just perfect for keeping it neat and out of their eyes, and then in the evening, just comb it all out and—eureka!—waves and curls and nobody can accuse them of a sissy thing like setting their hair. Am I right, Brother?"

"You're both weird," Ez said calmly. "Just because I decided on a change of hairstyle, there's no need for you two to start poking fun. If you're too hidebound and conventional to appreciate a truly creative approach to the expression of one's individuality through the medium of innovative hair arrangement—"

Whoops of laughter drowned out the rest of his exposition, and he watched Kitt and O'Mara with a slightly raised eyebrow and a placid expression until they finally collapsed on the sofa and got themselves under control.

"Oh, Ez," O'Mara moaned, "if only I had a tape of that. You'll never be able to do it again without missing something."

"Nonsense. Of course I can. Remember, I did my postgrad work in England. University denizens over there talk like that all the time. For that matter, haven't you ever listened to Bill Buckley?"

"He's right, O'Mara," said Kitt. "Give him a couple of stiff drinks, and he can go on like that for hours. It's appalling. He's been known to clear out a faculty meeting in fifteen minutes."

"I can well understand why." O'Mara had put on his socks and shoes and now shrugged into his jacket. "However, I'm leaving for quite a different reason—namely, I'm falling asleep. Goodnight or morning or whatever, Ez," he said to the broad back moving down the hall. "Come on, love, walk me to the door and be sure you lock it behind me."

They stopped beside the door and stood close together, not quite touching except for their clasped hands. Kitt met his eyes and read encouragement, inquiry, warmth and just a hint of tightly controlled desire. As his head bent, she swayed forward until she was leaning lightly against him, and lifted her mouth to meet his. Eyes closed, she savored the warm pressure, loving but undemanding, and the hardness of his chest against her breasts. All too soon, to her mind, he was stepping back, his hands coming up to her shoulders to steady her until she found her balance.

A shadow of disappointment flickered in her eyes, and her voice held a note of reproach as she protested, "I wasn't afraid."

He brushed a finger across her lips and smiled. "I know, love. That's why I stopped. I want you to go to bed with a good memory. Don't forget to lock this behind me. I'll see you in the morning."

Kitt locked the door and stood for a few moments listening to his descending footsteps, which were remarkably light for such a big man. Humming
The Second Time Around,
she floated across the living room, turning off lights, and did a waltz turn down the hall.

"Hey, Sis, come here and give me a hand, will you? I can't get these damn things undone." Ez's exasperated rumble came from the partly open bathroom door, and she pushed it all the way back to find him leaning over the counter, peering into the mirror as he tried to untangle his hair.

Leaning against the doorjamb, she couldn't help giggling at his look of total frustration. "Why don't you leave it? I think it's kind of interesting. Different, definitely. Ahhh... why did she do it, or shouldn't I ask?"

He gave her a sidelong, sheepish look in the mirror. "She was kind of miffed with me." Pausing, he straightened up and regarded his image ruefully. "I didn't realize just what it looked like until I got in here. We were in the car when she did it." Finally, he chuckled. "Dippy broad. God, that looks ridiculous! Kitt? Come on," he coaxed, "help me get them out."

"Oh, all right," she said with a long-suffering sigh. "What are sisters for, except to stay up till dawn unbraiding their brothers' hair?" She hooked the stool from under the counter with her foot. "Sit down so I can reach this mare's nest. Oh, damn, she tied them all off with strands of hair. I'm going to have to clip the knots out."

"Like hell! You're not going to go snipping chunks out of my hair!"

"Don't be vain. It's only little bits of ends." She pulled open a drawer and rummaged in her manicure kit for small scissors. "It won't even show. If it bothers you, you can get a trim tomorrow. You need one anyhow—your hair is curling over your collar. Won't hurt a bit to get an inch taken off."

"Half an inch. Oh, toads' nails, look at the kinks. I'm going to have to wash it to get all those out."

"It'll take more than that. Hold still, before I chop a chunk out of your ear. Once I've got all these undone, if you'll just lean over the sink, I'll give you a shampoo and a creme rinse. That should get rid of most of the kinks, and, if I blow-dry it with a brush, I can get the rest of them out. You'll be as good as new in half an hour."

"With raggedy edges," Ez grumbled. "That woman is demented, and she has an evil temper."

"You still haven't explained how she could have done this without you knowing. Or did you? It must have taken some time."

He met her eyes in the mirror, flushing and looking rather sheepish. "Oh, well, I was distracted and... ah... well, if you must know, we were parked down by the beach, talking and watching the surf and... I was sort of resting my head back against her... er... shoulder, and she was playing with my hair... I... we kind of lost track of the time, and we talked and—"

"Watched the surf. Sure you did. What you're trying to tell me is that the conversation was so interesting that Midge could braid up all your hair, and you do have quite a bit of it, into tiny braids without you even knowing it. Right? That must have been some talk—this had to have taken well over an hour."

Ez merely grunted, his gaze fixed morosely on the mirror as he watched Kitt snipping away at the ends of the braids.

"Cheer up," she urged, glancing at his unhappy expression. "I'm really being very careful."

"I know." It came out on a gusty sigh. "You and O'Mara seemed very
simpatico
when I came in. Everything progressing?"

"Umm-hmmm. Fine, so far. He's wearing his kid gloves and being very cautious. I'm doing better than I ever thought I could." For a few minutes, she concentrated on the last of the braids, then met Ez's concerned gaze in the mirror. "How did he react when you told him about... Leon?"

"With rage. Total, nearly uncontrollable rage. He came up with some terms that I'd never heard, went on for ten or fifteen minutes without repeating himself once, and then switched to several other languages for another quarter hour. Near as I could keep count, he knows every curse there is in at least twelve languages. We were walking around the cliff path on the top of Crest Rock, out in front of the house, when I told him. Right off, he flung the can of beer he was holding out to sea. Then, while he was roaring curses at the ocean, he started heaving rocks over the edge. I figured it was as good a way as any to work it all off, so I found a comfortable boulder and let him go at it. It was an education. The man knows more basic Anglo-Saxon than I do."

"Guess it's just as well that you were the one to tell him. Did he... what did he say when he cooled down?"

"Blamed himself. Also told me I was a damned mealy-mouthed fool for not stopping you. After he got that out of his system, we settled down and talked about you and how you'd reacted and what it had taken these last five years to get you back together. We... ah... talked a bit about a couple of ideas he has for getting you through the rest of it. Did he say anything to you?"

Kitt was adjusting the water temperature, and now she pushed his head down and reached for the shampoo. "Get your hair good and wet. That's fine. Now close your eyes. He didn't say much. Just that you'd talked about it, and now he knew, he... it would be good for me to tell him myself... when I'm ready. Stick your head under the faucet again. I know he's right, and I guess I'll probably do it pretty soon. It's something we
have
to go through. Okay now, keep your eyes closed while I work this rinse into your hair. Ugh, next time you get a haircut, have him thin some of this out. How do you get a comb through all this? There. Stay still for a few minutes."

Pulling a clean washcloth out of a drawer, she pushed it into his hand. "Here. Use this if it starts running into your eyes. Did you and the pixie sort out
your
difficulties? Or has this little stunt put you back on Start?"

"No, not really. This is just a manifestation of her warped sense of humor, and
that
is probably a result of being smaller than almost everyone else. I'm not chewing nails, you know. It was rather funny, and I can understand why she did it. As far as making up, we... ah... did that. Not that there was any great problem, except a bit of poorly timed one-upmanship. How long do I have to stay like this?"

"That's it. Just let me rinse it out. Okay. Here. Get the excess water out while I find a brush. Are you coming up next weekend?"

"Of course. If you think I'm leaving her to the weekend wolfpack, think again."

"One could almost believe you were jealous, if one didn't know that you've never been jealous in your life. On the other hand," Kitt continued blandly, "there's a first time for everything. Yes?"

"Mmmm. Maybe. If so, I'll have to do something about it. Jealousy is a destructive emotion, and I'll be damned if I'll let myself get that bent out of shape. It'll be something to ponder this week during my long, lonely evenings."

"Don't try for sympathy from me. One short whistle and you'll have all the company you can handle."

"True, but I rather think I'd find it a bit boring after the pixie."

"Falling off the edge?"

"Maybe. Time will tell."

Kitt paused with the hair-dryer in her hand, her thumb on the ON switch, and studied him for a moment. With a slowly widening smile, she asked, "How much time?"

"Not much," he murmured with an answering smile, and Kitt turned on the dryer.

Chapter 12

An April Monday on the Maine coast tended to be very quiet and peaceful. The weekenders were gone, it wasn't the season for midweek day-trippers, and the permanent residents were going about their normal Monday pursuits and recovering from the previous two days of hectic activity.

Yawning and blinking to keep her eyes open, Kitt leaned against the counter and waited for the water to boil. After her extraordinarily long Sunday, she'd only gotten a little over five hours of sleep, and now, coming up on eight-thirty, she was longingly considering the idea of keeping the shop closed for the day. Mondays were very slow anyway, and, at the moment, she had absolutely no enthusiasm for anything beyond falling back into bed for another three or four hours.

The sound of trudging footsteps on the outside stairs, followed by a feeble knock on the door, brought her away from the counter and across the living room to grope for the cord to open the long drapes. She squinted, eyes watering, into the bright glare of the morning sun as she flipped the lock and pushed back the door for a less-than-lively Midge.

"If you say 'good morning,' I'll pound you into the deck," Kitt growled.

"Wouldn't think of it. Got any coffee?" A sleepy Midge tottered across to the counter and dropped onto a stool, propping her chin up with both hands, elbows on the counter.

"Mmmm. Instant in a minute. I haven't the energy to make fresh." Kitt stifled a yawn and reached for another mug. "Ought to make you do this, Miss Clever Fingers. You must have gotten at least an hour's more sleep than I did."

"Don't yawn. It's catching. Why'd I get more sleep?"

"Because, you evil elf, you didn't have to stay up until after three undoing a hundred and fifty-two tiny braids and then shampooing and blow-drying out the kinks."

For the first time that morning, Midge's eyes were wide open as she stared at Kitt in total dismay. "Oh, God, I never thought about... It never dawned on me that... Oh, Kitt, I'm sorry. It was a joke. Well, sort of a retribution, but I intended Ez to have to get them out. It never occurred to me that you'd have to do it. Oh, damn!"

" 'S okay. I'll think of a suitable revenge once I'm awake." Kitt dredged up half a chuckle. "He really did look incredible."

"Ah, yes, well, maybe I'd better disappear for a while. He
is
still here, isn't he? I saw his car out front."

"Coward. You stay right there. He's still asleep." She glanced at the clock. "He should be getting up if he wants to make it back in time for his lecture. Perhaps," said Kitt with a deliberately malicious smirk, "I should let you wake him up. It just might even the score."

"Have a heart, Kitt," Midge wailed. "He's not going to be any too pleased with me this morning."

"Take it like a trouper. Here, you'd better go bearing coffee. By the time he gets it down, he'll have considered the consequences of strangling you."

Midge, looking rather apprehensive, clutched the mug in both hands and moved reluctantly down the hall. Incomprehensible mutterings drifted back until they were cut off by the closing of Ez's door. Smiling to herself at the thought of his reaction to being awakened by Midge, Kitt wandered into the living room and stretched out on the sofa. She turned on her side, pushing a small pillow under her head and wriggling around until she had her bare feet tucked up under her long terrycloth caftan. Yawning widely, she closed her eyes, telling herself it was just for a few minutes.

When O'Mara pushed open the door some ten minutes later, he found her sound asleep, quite undisturbed by the muffled squeals and inarticulate rumblings coming from the direction of Ez's room. Hero trotted over to the sofa and nuzzled his damp nose into Kitt's neck. Without opening her eyes, she drowsily mumbled, "Good boy. Go see Ez."

Before she had a chance to fall all the way back into sleep, she felt a moist tickling around her ear and warm breath blowing gently into it. A large hand was lightly kneading her shoulder, and a teasing voice was urging, "Wake up, Griselda. How are you going to find your handsome prince if you don't kiss the available toads?"