Break Point Down Page 25

  He felt peaceful and almost comfortable. For the life of him he couldn't remember what it was he had to decide. Couldn't have been important. If you couldn't sleep in on a weekend morning, when could you? Try to remember what it was that he was supposed to do.

  Again Thor let out a soft growl, and then what sounded like a little cry. Kitt shook his head to clear the fuzziness and began to sit up. He had to try four or five times as he leaned on his bleeding hands.

  “Stay, Thor.”

  He looked around as in a daze. The cold didn't seem to bother him now, although the remnants of his parka did little to protect him. At least his knee and ankle were being iced, and it wouldn't be so bad to stay here and wait for someone to come and look for him. When he lay down again Thor barked, a small, weak, urgent bark.

  Leave me alone, Thor. Just a few more minutes.

  But Thor wouldn't let him, and he became irritable.

  “Quiet!”

  The dog was still, and he felt instantly sorry. Poor guy must be hurt.

  His mind fought back now. Thor. That was it. Thor was hurt. Had to get Thor to a vet. How long had he been in misery? He tried to focus on his watch, and remembered it was smashed against the rocks. The sun then. Shielding his eyes, he looked around. There was the sun. See, it was morning. Fifteen degrees or so above the horizon. Wait a minute, where was east?

  The sun was dropping behind the sawtooth skyline. He had some loose connections in his brain, like a frazzled electrical cord, with lights coming on for a moment, then flickering and blacking out and for a few seconds right afterward flashing in full brilliance.

  Thor is injured. I've got to move. What I want is sleep. No, don't. No more sleeping. Thor needs me. And Kari. Where is Kari? What was it now—yes, he had to move. He had to get Thor to a vet. Something about Kari.

  Years of discipline started soaking his brain with will. He had to wake up. Move. Nobody knew where to look for him. His tracks had been blown away. No one was going to come here. He rubbed his face and hands with snow, trying to restore circulation and focus, shivering slightly as he began to be aware of the biting cold. His knee started throbbing again, and a brief inspection revealed a nasty swelling of his right ankle. It was not going to be easy to move, with both legs injured. But the right knee was all right, and he could use it to propel himself down the trail. From here on it was going to be mostly downhill, and that was good as long as he could control the sled.

  It started coming back to him now, and he moved ahead on one knee padded with the torn parka, and on his raw hands, trying to focus on Kari. Laura didn't want her anymore. Laura wanted to get married and be rich and forget that she'd been married to Jeff and he had molested their daughter and she was rebellious and having nightmares and some day she was going to go to the police and tell. Laura wanted a safe new name before that happened. She wanted to maybe visit Kari now and then, no strings. Maybe some day, when Kari was older and beautiful and didn't talk about the trauma in her little life anymore, then Laura might want her back. But not now.

  Did he? Did he want to go and play tennis or go to school and do his own thing? Can I go through this for another five, six years? Can I love you as Dad loved me?

  Somewhere in the snow and the pain there was a quietness, a tranquillity that stilled the gusts that had whipped up whirling funnels around him. He was shocked to know that he was not alone. When the fire in his injured legs became unbearable and his slashed hands almost let go of the sled, he felt an inexplicable peace. He labored on with an urgency that drove his movements with compelling rhythm, not allowing him to rest, as though some unstoppable engine had been ignited. Chugging, throbbing, relentless, it pushed his body to its limits.

  Three hours later he saw the Suburban. He stared at it from a distance, disbelieving, and he kept moving as though separate from his consciousness, a motor that keeps running without any willful action of its own. When he reached the truck he fumbled in his pockets. His hands were stiff and cramped around the ropes, and it took ten minutes to find the keys, and another five to pick them up where he dropped them in the snow. He'd lost his flashlight, and in the gathering darkness he unlocked the vehicle and told the dog to stay. Somehow he pulled himself into the driver's seat and placed his foot on the gas pedal. Stabs pierced his broken ankle but he gritted his teeth and pressed, backing the truck to a little snowbank. He climbed out again, and started pushing the sled up. Five or six times it sagged back down onto his shoulders, but in the end it stayed, and he clawed his way up.

  He'd left the key in the ignition, and realized in despair that he had to get it to open the back door.

  “Stay, Thor. Stay!”

  Sliding down the small embankment, he clutched at his knee in agony, and cried out in pain when his injured ankle broke his descent. Thor whimpered and stirred, and the movement rocked the sled slightly. It teetered at the edge of the snowbank and tipped down, crashing on top of Kitt.

  He lay there, trying to catch his breath and get a grip on his pain. After several minutes he freed himself from the sled, and slowly began the agonizing process of retrieving the keys and opening the back door, sliding down again to get the sled, and pushing it back up. Finally, he was able to shove and tug the sled into the back of the Suburban. Lying on his chest, he reached over to pet the dog.

  “Good boy. It's gonna be all right now.”

  The door slammed shut and for a moment he wanted to just lie there, but he willed himself to rise. Sliding down to the road, he circled the vehicle and pulled himself back into it. Tears streamed down his face as he drove unsteadily down the mountain road, his broken foot jerking off the pedal at every bump and turn.

  Every light in the little house was on and Kitt could see Kari's tear-streaked face at the window as he drove up. Exhausted, he clasped the steering wheel with his bloody hands, letting his head hang down in sheer exhaustion. When he looked up she still stood there, but her fear and anger melted as she saw the blood on his face. He made a helpless gesture and his hand dropped back on the steering wheel.

  When she jerked the passenger door open he raised his head.

  “Uncle Kitt! What happened? You're all bloody and—”

  “It's okay,” he clenched his teeth to fight down the pain.

  She climbed up and threw her arms around him.

  “Uncle Kitt,” she sobbed. “I was so scared. I thought you'd left me!”

  He raised a heavy arm and put it around her shoulders, holding her tight as he wept with her and knew his decision was made.

  “I wouldn't leave you, babe. Never.”

  There was no time now to reflect on it.

  “Kari, we need a vet. Thor's hurt.”

  She looked behind her and scrambled over the seat in dismay.

  “Oh, Thor! What happened to you? Uncle Kitt, is he—”

  “I don't think so. Quick, run in and call Dr. Howard.”

  She dashed into the house and was back a few minutes later.

  “There's an emergency clinic in Lakewood South. It's on Eagle Road.”

  She jumped in and when he started the motor she noticed his torn clothing. She stared at him in horror.

  “What happened to you?”

  He shook his head, trying to conserve his last bit of energy.

  “Long story. We went into the hills last night. Thor fell in a ravine.”

  “You mean—you mean you've been out there all night?” Her voice rose in near hysteria. “I waited and waited and you didn't come!”

  “But the sleepover—”

  “My coach got sick. It was canceled.”

  She was terrified alone in a dark house. Chances were she hadn't been to bed at all.

  At the clinic Kari ran inside and came back with a man in a green lab coat, who opened the hatchback. “She tells me you got an injured dog. Let's have a look.”

  Kitt tried to turn around, but his strength gave out and he slumped over the steering wheel. The veterinarian dashed around the car and pulled the d
river's door open, looked at Kitt's drawn face and bloody hands, noticed his leg. He turned to Kari.

  “Run in and tell them to call an ambulance. And have'em send out at least two people to help.” He gestured at Kitt. “As soon as you can tell me what happened, start talking. They'll be taking you away in a few minutes.”

  “Don't call. I can drive.”

  “Yeah, right. What happened?”

  “Went hiking last night. Up high in the Washuiq. Dog fell in a ravine. Pulled him out on a stretcher. Busted my knee, then my ankle. Crawled out. Just got here.”

  “You were out there crawling through the mountains pulling a sled with a 165-plus-pound dog on it? For twenty-four hours.”

  “That would be correct.”

  Throughout the night he had glimpses of Kari's big, anxious eyes. They told him he'd been in surgery for his knee, and the ankle was in a cast. Simple fracture. He'd had those before, and knee surgery was nothing new, either. A vast exhaustion spread through every cell and fiber of him and he thought if he had to lift his hand he would cry.

  Kari was sitting by his bed when he woke up. She reached over and took his hand.

  “It'll be all right, Uncle Kitt. You'll be all right.”

  He nodded.

  “Of course. Busted my knee plenty of times on the court. You need some sleep, babe.”

  “They're letting me sleep on that lounging chair over there. It folds into sort of a bed. I just wanted to see you.”

  “I'm sorry you were alone all night.”

  “You're going to be a hero, Uncle Kitt. Nobody can believe you crawled for twenty-four hours through the snow with both legs injured, and pulling Thor. A couple of reporters came but the doctor was like ‘You go into that room and I'll have you dragged out.’”

  “Oh pulleeze. How's Thor?”

  “I called the clinic a half hour ago. They think there's no internal bleeding, just shock and some scrapes and a broken leg. He may have like a concussion. They will keep him under observation but they think he'll be fine.”

  “Thank heaven.”

  Later in the day he had visitors.

  “How could you, less than a month before this exo? For a mutt?” Rick threw up his hands in disgust. “You knew what's riding on this, Kitt. And you go waltzing off into the mountains. How dumb is that?”

  “Okay, so I should not have gone hiking before the match,” Kitt returned irritably. “What did you want me to do once I was there? Let Thor die?”

  “You can get another dog.”

  “You don't get it.”

  “No, you're the one who doesn't get it. You're just about broke and you come around willing to play, and then you blow it. They say you may not play for six months now. This thing may set you back for a year as far as match play goes.”

  “Oh, for heaven's sake. Two months maybe. It's a clean break. And I've come back from knee surgery before.”

  “Not on the eve of a comeback. Do you know what we've put into the publicity?”

  “Whoa, whoa! Who said anything about a comeback? This is a one-timer. At best an annual or semiannual thing to get me through school.”

  “Be your age, Kitt.”

  “Same to you.”

  “The only thing we can do with this thing,” Rick mused, “is get the press on it. It makes a good story, and the first articles are already in the papers. Tennis ace, agony in the mountains. We may play this for some publicity. You may be able to get yourself together by the French. The Australian and Indian Wells will be too soon, but who knows, maybe Monte Carlo, and—”

  “Monte Carlo nothing. Read my lips, Rick. I am retired. I was trying for an exhibition for some ready cash. That's all. If I can get one in the spring, I'll do it then. For now I'll come up with something else to pay the rent.”

  “Don't be stupid. Haven't you learned anything this year? You belong on a tennis court.”

  “So I'm stupid.”

  To his surprise the sports magazines were interested. At one time they would have paid him a king's ransom for an exclusive, but Kitt was philosophical about it. “I'm retired,” he told Kari. “Can't expect them to keep paying attention. We're lucky. This'll take care of Thor's medical bills and then some.”

  “What about your medical bills?”

  “Got insurance through the university.”

  A day later Thor came home, his hind leg in a cast, but excited and eager. He had grown into a handsome dog, a fortunate mixture of several super-breeds, with a short, thick, cream-colored coat. The cast didn't keep him from jumping all over Kitt and Kari, and Kitt finally had to order him down. He lay on his bed in the corner, tail pumping happily up and down.

  George, who'd driven the dog home, helped himself to the cookies Kari brought out.

  “So now what? Are we going for another shot at an exhibition?”

  “I'd like to. But I can't ask you to keep working with me for another six months before you get paid. So we need to make some arrangements.”

  “I told you, this is helping me, too. I'm getting experience working with you, and making connections. So we're even.”

  “No freebies, George. I'll pay my way. Slowly.”

  “No sweat.”

  Kitt had started to feel a little more at home in the group. After the rather cool reception of that first night, he had felt less resistance, and even some support. One of the men came by to pick him up because he couldn't drive, and on the way there they'd talked.

  His identity was no longer a secret now that his face had been in the papers again, but they seemed to take him more seriously now. More than once he heard “You fell for that one?” as he recounted some of his more frustrating experiences with Kari, and there was a good deal of head shaking as he explained how he'd let her manipulate him. But they made allowances for his inexperience, and seemed to relish the opportunity to give advice to a rookie. He'd become a project to them, but that was all right. As long as they could help him figure her out and learn the art of fatherhood, it didn't matter if they were a bit patronizing about it. Above all, the patterns of Kari's behavior were becoming clearer to him now, the manipulation, the sparring for space and boundaries, the testing. Why hadn't he seen them earlier! When he saw Linda a week later, he chucked the alias, too. He'd got to her office on a bus, hobbled in and carefully lowered himself on a chair.

  “Okay, so it's Kitt Buchanan,” he told her abruptly. “Your basic qualifier.”

  She smiled.

  “My youngest son happens to be a great fan. We've had tennis magazines coming to the house for years. Your face was on our coffee table a lot. We watched your matches on TV.”

  “I feel stupid. Kari was ticked off about my going here. She didn't want it known.”

  “And your identity, of course, reveals hers.”

  “Yes. So now what?”

  “Nothing different. How has it been going?”

  “Actually, since the accident it's been better. She's knocked herself out to mother me.”

  “That won't last, of course.”

  “I was afraid of that. But at least there's peace for now. She had a huge scare that night. A volleyball sleepover was canceled and she came home. She's hysterically afraid of being in a dark house by herself, so she stayed up that night and the whole next day and much of the following night. She was afraid I'd left her.”

  “And how did you feel?”

  “I guess I saw some hope. For a few moments there she dropped the whole nasty, obnoxious teenager bit and we were communicating. It was great.”

  “Good. But Kitt, don't expect too much at once. She may close right back up.”

  “She already has, a little. But not quite. And there's a whole new game plan coming up.”

  He told her about Laura's proposition, and his own doubts.

  “Fact is, I tried to look at the situation as temporary, but deep down I've always known this was coming. I had to ask myself if I could deal with it indefinitely.”

  She frowned.

&nb
sp; “That's an enormous decision, Kitt.”

  “It's been coming at me in stages. She just made it official. It's like points in a game, games in a set, sets in a match, and matches in a tournament. You try not to look ahead, but when the last point is played you get the big picture. She just played it.”

  “You expected this?”

  “On some level I knew Laura wasn't going to take Kari back. She needed time to justify herself. Now she's got the fiancé to lay it on. The thing is, what options has Kari got?”

  “Not many, I suppose. Is there another relative or friend—”

  “There isn't. Laura was talking about boarding schools, and camps in the summer. Home for Christmas if she's a good girl. A variation on the theme of the tennis academy.”

  “Abandonment.”

  “Exactly. Not that she feels close to her mother anymore, but I think she‘s always had some idea of going home again, being with her family. Like it was going to be almost as it used to be.”

  Linda nodded thoughtfully. “You've made up your mind then?”

  “Yes. But Kari has something to say about this. I don't know what will happen when the two of them get together. If she opens up—“

  “You think Laura will change her mind?”

  “No.”

  “You hope she will?”

  “No. It would be no more than a sentimental impulse. That's academic, anyway. Laura goes by her head. Kari may be better off without her.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Laura doesn't deal with other people's pain. She's dead set against counseling for Kari. She wants this thing swept under the rug, out of the public eye. Kari's mental health is simply not an issue. And if Kari pulled some of her stunts, especially with Laura back in a prominent social circle—she'd get kicked out. I may be too hard on her, but it seems to me she plays the queen and her children are the crown jewels. They are there to adorn, not make demands. They are part of her setting, and as long as they enhance the stage, they can play on it. The way things are now, Kari ruins the scene.”

  “But you're twenty-five, single—”