When No One Was Looking by Rosemary Wells

Author:Rosemary Wells [Wells, Rosemary]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-4532-6595-6
Publisher: Open Road
Published: 2012-10-12T16:10:00+00:00

6

UP THE OCEAN DRIVE toward the Plymouth Club Kathy pedaled in the rain. She tried to avoid the muddy splashes of oncoming cars and trucks, but she could not, and in a short while she was drenched to the skin, just as Julia’s mother had said she would be. She didn’t mind. It was a great relief to be away from the stifling Florida air, and there was a jumpiness inside of her that could only be lessened by jogging or pedaling. Since the club was too far from Julia’s house to be jogged to, she had borrowed a bicycle, and ignoring Mrs. Redmond’s insistence on driving her, she was on her way. It occurred to her that her success in Florida had at least for the moment shot her past the age when someone else’s mother could absolutely forbid her to do something.

In Kathy’s pocket was a clipping Mrs. Redmond had saved from that morning’s Globe. The clipping had been flapping in Mrs. Redmond’s outstretched hand when she met Kathy and Julia at Logan Airport that morning. “Kathy,” she had explained breathlessly and protectively, “your mom and dad are tied up. Your mom’s with your grandma and your dad has to do a photography thing for the VFW, so you come right home with us, but, oh, Kathy, look at this! Read what they said about you in the morning paper! Julia, I want you to read what the Boston Globe has to say about your best friend.”

Kathy pulled to the side of the road to let a moving van pass. She patted the article with her free hand. It was still dry, folded in a tiny square and stuck in her bra. Would Marty have seen it yet? Of course. Would she be truly pleased? Yes, but would she say so? Probably not. She’ll ask me what the girl beat me with in the finals, Kathy decided. And I’ll have to go over that rotten drop shot all week.

In the finals Kathy had faced a girl of just the sort Marty and her mother loved to hate. She was ranked fourth nationally. She had lustrous long dark hair, heavy eye makeup that did not run, and a solid gold necklace that shone against her deeply tan skin. The girl had been written up in Sports Illustrated. At home, which was in Houston, she had a private clay court and two coaches, one who appeared every morning at six thirty. The girl had not beaten Kathy easily. Kathy didn’t care a bit that she’d lost to her. She was so delighted to have come as far as the finals she had smiled broadly after the match point, something she guessed she oughtn’t to have done, and, the girl from Houston had congratulated her with grace and affection, as if Kathy had won.

Would her mother and father have seen the papers yet? Kathy hoped so. It might make her mother’s vigil at her birdlike grandmother’s bedside a little more bearable. For Jody, of course, it would do nothing.

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