Table of contents | Previous chapter Introduction | Cast of characters   Playing with Fire A novel by Scott Lazenby   Chapter 26 en? Are you still there?”       I sat down on the bed and struggled for words. “Yes. Sorry. You caught me off guard. Do you want to come up?”       “No ... Could you come down here?”       “Uh ... sure. Just give me a second.”       I paced around the room and checked myself in the mirror. On my way out I almost latched the door before I remembered to get my room key. I watched through the glass walls of the elevator, looking for Kate, but didn’t see her until the doors opened. She was wearing a long tropical-looking skirt, and a simple white blouse. She smiled shyly.       “Hi, Ben. It’s good to see you.”       She came close and hugged me. I wrapped my arms around her back. For a long moment she nuzzled her face into my neck. Then she gently pushed back.       “What ... uh, why ...” I wasn’t impressing myself with my conversational skills.       “What am I doing here?” she said. “I came to see you, silly. Actually, I was in Philadelphia working on some details with my SBA loan — don’t ask, it’s a long story — and decided I needed to talk to you.”       “Oh. Well, I’m glad you did.”       “Can we go somewhere? Like to dinner or something?”       “Uh, yeah.” The sounds of the lobby seeped back into my consciousness. I thought of room service again, but decided not to bring it up. “You know, there’s a good place in Georgetown. A French restaurant that I went to a few years ago. How does that sound?”       “Fine.”       “Do you have a suitcase?”       “No, just this.”       She patted the purse that hung over her shoulder.       “Well, let’s get a cab.”       The driver had never heard of L’Auberge des Pays, but he got us to Georgetown and I managed to navigate us to the restaurant. There was a half-hour wait for a table, so we sipped on Perrier water in the bar.       “So. Here we are,” I said.       Kate laughed. “Sounds like a honeymoon.”       “Hmm. But I won’t go there. So....”       “You have a lot of questions, but you don’t know where to start, right?”       I smiled. “You’ve had more time to think about this conversation, Kate.”       “Not that much. I kind of got on the plane on impulse. And I really don’t know what to say, except I decided it wasn’t fair to leave you hanging. We’ve shared too much, and I value your friendship too much for that.”       Friendship? “Okay. Start with the easy parts. How’s your new business venture coming?”       “It’s hard to describe. In one way, I’m loving it — there’s so many new things to do, you know? And my customers are being great about it, except the ones that are total jerks and don’t like change. I wish you and Mary could see the things we’ve done to the place.”       “You’re pretty proud of it, huh?”       “Yeah. But it takes up so much time. The boys are having all of their end-of-school activities and all that, and I just can’t give it the time I need to. But I guess that’s the story of my life.”       “Have you been able to hire any staff yet to take some of the load off?”       “One person, yeah, but she’s sort of a ditz, and I have to spend my time training her. I can’t afford to hire anybody else until we start making more money.” She grinned. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into that deal in the first place.”       I laughed. Her dress had a slit in it, up past her knees, and my eyes strayed to her legs. They were smooth and tan, like I remembered them, but I guessed that was from her nylons. Somewhere in the restaurant, a violinist played a Mozart sonata. We talked about our jobs until we were summoned to our table, taking plenty of time to re-connect. In spite of our intimacy, the e-mail correspondence had provided some emotional distance. Kate’s physical presence was now making me re-learn how to talk to a woman I had fallen in love with.       We ordered the seven-course meal that the chef recommended, wanting to make it last as long as possible. My French was rusty, and I didn’t have a clue what was coming.       The waiter brought our salads. Kate dug into hers like she hadn’t eaten all day. She finished before me and put down her fork.       “And you’re probably wondering about me and Gordon....”       “Yeah, I was sort of guessing you might get around to that.”       “Mmm. Well, before I tell you, you do know there’s no way for us to be together, don’t you?”       “You mean you and me, or you and Gordon?”       “You and me. Right? You have thought about it, haven’t you?”       “Sure. I guess you’re right, as much as I don’t want to admit it. We probably couldn’t live together, anyway — we’d drive each other crazy.”       She laughed and I felt her knee push against mine. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” She looked at me for a moment, and I thought I saw her blink a tear away.       “Anyway, I did a lot of soul-searching, and decided the only thing that made sense was to really try to patch things up with Gordon.”       “You make it sound like an intellectual exercise.”       She raised her eyes at me. “Are you teasing me? Don’t do that — this is hard enough already.”       “No, hon, I’m sorry. And I know you’re right. I tried to tell you that. Did you read any of my messages?”       “Of course. I read them all. They helped, really. I just couldn’t write back — I had to work this all out myself.”       The violin player came over to our table and we stopped talking. Our legs were intertwined, and as we listened, Kate put her hand over mine. I wondered if we were supposed to tip him, but then decided that in a classy place like that, we were simply expected to leave a huge tip at the end of the meal.       I squeezed Kate’s hand. We were both wearing wedding rings, and I didn’t care if people thought we were married. We didn’t speak again until the violinist moved on to another table.       “So what will you do to rebuild your marriage?”       “Well ... someone said that God brings us together, but creeping separateness drives us apart. I think that’s been our problem. So the obvious answer is to make more time for each other, and to work on doing things together that we both enjoy. We agreed we wouldn’t spend as much time on work, even if it comes down to selling our businesses. Anyway, that’s the general plan.”       The waiter brought another course, and said something in French. Kate poked at her plate with her fork.       “What do you suppose this is?”       I shrugged. “Snails? Who knows.”       We ate in silence for a few moments.       “You know what we even did last weekend?” she said.       “No, what?” I started to picture a romantic weekend retreat, and decided maybe I didn’t want to hear the details.       “We went to church.”       “You’re kidding. I mean, that’s good, but what made you decide to do it?”       “Our counselor recommended it. And I’ve been thinking it wouldn’t hurt Luke and Josh either. You know? They’re around so much negative stuff at school, a lot of their friends are pretty screwed up, or at least their parents are.... It just seemed like they could use some positive examples.”       “Where did you go?”       “A big place. Community Church of the Rockies, I think it was called. Seemed all right — better than I thought it would be.”       “You didn’t have to sing too many old hymns, eh?”       “Yeah — none at all, in fact. Anyway, we’ll give it a try for a while. Maybe there’s hope for a wretch like me.”       “Yep, that’s how the song goes.” I filled her wine glass. “I admire you, Kate. I hope you stick with it, even if sometimes it’s tough. I used to think that church potlucks were designed to shape us up by giving us a taste of hell. You know, sitting on uncomfortable chairs, talking to people you don’t know very well, eating a plateful of Jell-O and mystery casseroles, and worrying about who you’re going to offend because you didn’t sample their hamburger helper surprise.”       Her laugh was a sound that I lived for. In all the months of writing to each other, it was something I missed. That, and seeing her eyes. In the candlelight I discovered that they were actually pale blue with a halo of darker opal. I watched her and sighed.       “What are you thinking?” she said.       “I probably shouldn’t say.”       “Oh, go ahead.”       “Well, I was just thinking how much I love you. I don’t want to change your mind or anything, but I just can’t help it.”       She leaned so close that her forehead almost touched mine. “I feel the same way, Ben, and that’s probably something that will never change — at least I hope not. The last few weeks went better for me, thinking about you being there. You know?”       “Yeah.”       My butt was going to sleep, but I didn’t want to untangle my legs from hers.       “It’s been the same for me,” I said. “With all the insanity at the city, I don’t know what I would have done without you.”       The courses continued to come, and we ate without hurrying. It was after midnight when we finished our coffee and dessert. We were the last couple left in the place. Kate insisted on splitting the bill — she said it would make it less complicated when I filled out my expense account. I told her that it didn’t matter, that the bill was too steep to have the city pay for it, but she insisted anyway.       When we stood up, Kate swayed and leaned against me. Maybe the bottle of wine, I thought, or just sitting too long.       Outside, the night was warm — at least compared to what both of us were used to.       “Where do you want to go?” I asked.       “I better be getting back.”       “To Philadelphia?”       “Yes.”       “You’re not going to find a flight at this hour. Besides, I don’t want you to go.”       For the first time in my life, I kissed her. Instead of resisting, she pushed her body against mine. Her taste and the feel of her heat were intoxicating. I slid my hand along her side and felt her tremble.       She pushed away, leaving her hands on my shoulders.       “This probably isn’t a real good idea,” she said breathlessly.       “I guess not. But I liked it, Kate.”       “Me too.” Her eyes were moist in the lamplight. “Let’s walk.”       “Sure.”       We wandered aimlessly along the streets of Georgetown, holding hands and talking. We eventually made our way into a nightclub that had a live band, but we really weren’t interested in drinking much, and the music was too loud.       Back on the streets, we slowly made our way back toward the Capitol. Even the hookers and drug dealers were disappearing, and there was a faint hint of light to the east. I suppose we should have been concerned about getting mugged, but we were oblivious to the risk.       Kate said, “What about you and Mary? Don’t you think our secret life has had some effect on you two?”       “I don’t know. I tell myself it hasn’t, and that in some ways our relationship is stronger than ever. But then I wonder, when I think of you and write love notes to you, am I taking something away from her? Would I be doing that with Mary instead? But it isn’t that simple.” We stepped over the legs of a wino sleeping on the sidewalk, his top half covered in a cardboard box. “Sometimes when I came up with something good to write to you, I used it in a note to Mary too. She was pleased, I think — said it seemed like I was courting her again. Does that make you jealous?”       “No, not really. I’ve been close to Mary more years than I’ve known you.”       A breeze blowing between the buildings chilled me. Her hand felt warm in mine. “Well anyway, sometimes I even forgot which one of you I said something to. Like, did I ever send you the words to the 7th chapter of the Song of Solomon? You know, ‘Your rounded thighs are like jewels, your two breasts are like two fawns,’ that sort of thing?”       “No. Wish you had though.”       “See? I must have left that in a note to Mary, some place where she would discover it at work. Of course, maybe I was doing all that to ease my guilt about being so crazy about you. I just don’t know.”       We ended up at the reflecting pond in front of the Capitol building. The sun lit up the top of the Washington Monument. I took off my shoes and socks and dangled my feet in the water. After so much walking, it was refreshing. Kate checked to make sure no one else was around, then hiked up her skirt so she could roll off her pantyhose. She put them in her purse and eased her feet into the pond.       “So what’re we going to do?” I said.       Kate was silent for a long moment.       “We can’t go on this way,” she said. “I think we have to end our secret correspondence, much as I hate to say it.”       The buildings on the west end of the mall were bathed in red. I looked at Kate’s face in the reflected glow.       “But,” she said, “we could still send an occasional message to each other, as long as we sent it to the whole family. You know what I mean? Just nothing secret or spicy.”       “Yeah. It wouldn’t be the same, but it would be something.” I knew it wouldn’t work.       “It’s better this way. We have enough secrets between us that we can never tell anyone. We’re better off not making more.”       A flock of geese flew over, honking.       “You’re a strong person, Kate. I’m impressed.”       “Don’t be. I’m just saying what we should do. We haven’t put it to the test yet. I tell myself I’m going to be strict with Luke, but then I let him get away with murder. Josh doesn’t give me any trouble, but Luke pushes me when he knows I’m out of energy or willpower. So I’m not that strong. This will only work because you are.”       “I am what?”       “Strong. If you tell yourself this is what we need to do, you’re the one that can make it happen.”       “Gee, thanks. It’s going to take some prayer, though. Now that you’re a churchgoer, you can understand that.”       “I guess so.”       We let our feet dry in the cool air, our shoulders touching as we sat on the granite side of the reflecting pond. We finally put our shoes back on, and walked arm in arm to Pennsylvania Avenue. The traffic was picking up. I flagged down a cab.       We held each other for as long as we could. Then I watched helplessly as the taxi took Kate away. Final chapter: two and two together Copyright © 2001, Scott D. Lazenby. Reproduction in any form without the written permission of the author is prohibited. Illustration: Paul Salmon