Dasher stopped by Mimi’s condo to grab a suitcase early the next morning. She didn’t need to stay at the hospital any longer. Dasher mentally forced herself not to anticipate what the next few months or years would bring. After all, live in the moment, right? She could handle it.
After surreptitiously checking to see that Kate wasn’t in the garden, she started mentally making lists of chores for Lupe and herself. Lists always helped her when things were spinning out of control. When she entered her mother’s room, she was surprised to see her mother’s physician and several nurses, busily attaching things and having her sign forms.
Kate stood by quietly and looked thrilled to see Dasher. Momentarily caught in Kate’s gaze, Dash eventually realized that her mother was talking to her.
“Oh, good, you’re here. Would you all excuse us? Not you, Kate. Please stay.”
Kate nodded, standing a few feet from the bed as the others cleared away. Her hands were behind her back and she was fidgeting. She looked like a fourteen-year-old schoolgirl with a secret she was dying to tell. God, she was beautiful.
“What are you two up to?” Dasher tried to ignore a feeling of being left out of the pack. How was it that Kate could march in and be instant friends with Dasher’s mother? The unusual and unexpected turn of events made her feel happy and a bit envious at the same time.
“Dasher, do you mind if I have the surgery?” From the expression on her mother’s face and in her eyes, she wasn’t joking. She was actually asking permission.
“Why are you asking me? Don’t you think I’d want you to? Oh.” When she realized what was behind the question, she gasped.
Incredulous, she turned to Kate for verification and saw it in her eyes. They were both waiting for her decision. Anger was the only emotion that surfaced.
“What happens then, Mom? What if the surgery is a success and you get better, just to go back to being miserable? Is that my fault? What happens if you need more chemo or radiation? Is that when you quit? Am I responsible for that?”
Kate saw the anguish in Dasher’s face and ached to be next to her, to hold her hand. To protect her. She stayed where she was. Whatever happened next was between mother and daughter.
Mimi said, “No! Yes…but it’s not your responsibility, Dasher. It never has been. I just don’t want to put you through any more. I’m terrified that I’ll have a second chance and I’ll fail you.”
Kate couldn’t stop herself. She went to Dasher’s side and slipped an arm around her waist. “Mimi, if you take this chance, won’t the rest seem easy? I mean, this is the risk to live. This decision says you’re ready to change.”
The air in the room was charged in their collective silence. A nurse dressed in blue scrubs bustled in and stopped, taking them all in. “Have you signed the form, Mrs. Pate?”
Looking directly into Dasher’s eyes, Mimi smiled and handed her the clipboard. “Yes, here it is.”
The woman checked it over and said, “Okay, surgery is scheduled for seven o’clock. The anesthesiologist will be in very early tomorrow. See you in there.”
“You’ve already signed it?” Dasher’s voice was just above a whisper.
“Yes. I want your support, Dasher, but I’m doing this. I want to try. If I fail, then nothing has changed. Kate said it well. As I thought about it, somehow I realized that’s no longer an option. I’ve already changed. Perhaps the opportunity to die made me realize how precious life is and how I’d been wasting that opportunity. I want to be your mother…again. I hope you’ll let me have that chance.”
*
Kate and Dasher sat in the garden in silence. Kate was tired. This friendship business was tricky. She hoped Eleanor Roosevelt was happy. She ventured a question. “Are you okay?”
“Thank you. Your friendship with Mom seems to have made a real difference to her.” Kate detected a tone of she wasn’t sure what.
“What do you mean?” Somehow this conversation felt more dangerous than the one that had just transpired in the hospital room.
“I mean, hell, I mean I’ve been trying to get my mother to change my whole life. A few days with you and bingo, she’s a new woman.”
“What? Dasher, that’s not true. Your mother has…is ill. It’s a life-threatening situation. That was the catalyst. I happened to be there and she doesn’t have any history with me. It could have been Lupe or a nurse or someone else.” Why did she feel defensive?
Without rancor, Dasher shook her head. “I think you’re right, but I also think it was you, not anyone else. You have a special touch with her. So, thank you.”
Kate let out a long, slow breath. “Phew. I was afraid you hated me.”
A look of confusion crossed Dasher’s features. “I could never hate you. Be frustrated, irritated, confused, flabbergasted—”
Holding up a hand, Kate said, “Okay, okay, I get it. So, are we friends?” Somehow Dasher’s response meant so much.
Dasher held up her pinkie finger. “Pinkie swear.”
Kate stared at the offer of a childhood promise. Her first one. They joined pinkies, and in that moment, Kate realized that their bond was as deep as innocence itself.
She also realized something else. For all of their friendship promises, she knew she was lying, lying to her friend. Most of all, she was lying to herself.
She liked some people a great deal, she kept in touch with others, and some she just enjoyed talking to. She had Laurel to confide in, but she’d never met someone, male or female, who she constantly wanted to touch, to be with, to make happy.
When Dasher offered her pinkie and Kate accepted it, her life changed. Kate absently wondered if she could take it back, but, like Mimi and her choice to have the surgery, the genie was out of the bottle. Kate Hoffman had never felt this way about anyone before. It was terrifying and wonderful, all at once. She pictured Eleanor Roosevelt laughing and clapping her hands. That woman had a weird sense of humor.
*
Kate, Dasher, and Lupe sat together in the waiting room reserved for families of those having surgery. Other groups of loved ones were there passing the time while their special person was undergoing a procedure, and Kate could tell a few recognized her. They tried to give her privacy, but they were clearly watching. After all, it was a distraction from the tedium and fear. Dasher paced, made phone calls, and worried her PDA. Lupe knitted, and Kate worked on her laptop.
At one point, Chaz Hockaday appeared, took one photo, and looked about to shoot more. Honestly, that man. Kate noticed he didn’t look so blotchy and his buddy Michael wasn’t with him. She hoped he’d found something better to do.
Dasher was in no shape to take him on, but she visibly tensed and got ready to do battle with him in spite of being preoccupied with her mother’s surgery. Kate had put her hand on Dasher’s forearm to signal she would handle Chaz when he suddenly stilled, stared over their heads, then slipped out of the door that led to the stairs. Confused, they both turned and saw a formidable-looking man with steel gray hair and Dasher’s eyes. She’d never met Jerry Pate but thought that was about to change.
“Dad, what are you doing here?” Dasher’s confusion seemed genuine.
He ambled to the chair on the other side of Dash and sat. In a voice obviously meant just for her, he said, “Did you think I wouldn’t come? Mimi is still my wife and you’re my daughter. Have you heard anything?”
He glanced cursorily at Kate but kept his focus on Dasher. Kate thought she detected concern and love in his eyes. For all of their estrangement, they were a family, and Kate felt a sense of relief for Dasher.
“No, not yet. She’s been in surgery for two hours.”
“Why the photog? What was he doing here?” The question seemed more directed at Kate and she realized that was his intent. He probably thought she’d arranged it.
Feeling guilty, Kate said, “I should have stayed away. That man has been following me for weeks. If I wasn’t here, you could have had your privacy. I apologize, Dasher. I just thought you shouldn’t be alone.” She shot an accusing glare at Dasher’s father, who had the decency to look away. She refused to back down to this man.
Dasher regarded her father and said, “Dad, this is Kate Hoffman. Kate has been a regular visitor lately. She and Mom are friends. Please don’t run her off.”
He grinned. “Okay, okay, sorry.” He extended his hand to Kate. “I’m Jerry. And, of course, I know who you are. My crew argued with Joe Alder until we were hoarse to get you to not try that particular stunt. That guy is an asshole, no offense.”
Kate shook her head, appreciating his candor. “None taken. I learned the hard way that stunts should be left to the professionals. I thought your crew was excellent, but I just wasn’t up to the task. I’ll leave it to you from now on, no matter what Joe says.”
Jerry glanced between the two and asked, “You’re friends with Dash and Mimi? How did that happen? I thought you blew her off a long time ago.”
“Dad! Please, let’s try for diplomacy, okay?” Dasher was turning a bright pink, and Kate knew her own fair complexion didn’t hide anything, either.
Each one of them glanced around to see who might be listening. This town had eyes and ears everywhere. The one couple still in the room was in a deep discussion with a doctor. Judging from Lupe’s curt nod and watchful expression, she had been keeping an eye on things. Kate liked her more each time they met.
“Mr. Pate—Jerry, Dasher and I reconnected through a mutual friend and we belong to the same, er, charity. And yes, I did sign with Joe instead of Dasher.” She kept her gaze even with his. “It was a mistake.”
Lupe’s knitting needles clacked faster, probably to keep her from nodding in agreement.
Dasher looked down, her blush deepening. Then Jerry Pate cleared his throat, which was the only reason Kate remembered he was there.
“Why don’t you dump that guy and sign with Dash?”
Dasher’s head jerked up and she rolled her eyes. “Dad! You’re starting to sound like Mom. Stop, please.”
He folded his massive arms across his equally massive chest. “Your mother is a very smart woman. Just because we’ve gone our separate ways doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate her. When she’s not drinking, she’s the best.”
Kate thought she saw regret in his expression. She could relate. Both of them absented themselves from their problems by working. That didn’t mean the problems went away. They usually just got worse.
The door opened then and the surgeon who had spoken with Dasher before came bustling in. They all stood as she approached.
“Ms. Pate?” She looked askance at the rest of them.
“It’s okay. This is my dad and the rest are dear friends. We can all hear. How is she?”
“We did a complete hysterectomy. The tumor is removed, and there didn’t appear to be any others in the abdominal cavity. We took some tissue samples to check microscopically, but as of now, we’ve done what we can surgically. You’ll need to talk to the oncologist about the next steps.” Glancing at her watch, she said, “She’ll be in recovery for the next few hours, then moved back to her room. Barring any complications, you can see her then. She’ll be out of it until tomorrow. I suggest getting something to eat, all of you.”
The collective sigh of relief was audible. After each of them, including Lupe, shook the surgeon’s hand, she strode out of the waiting room, leaving them alone.
Jerry shoved his hands in the back pockets of his designer jeans and studied the ceiling. “Well, uh, can I buy all of you ladies lunch? I’d like to at least say hello to Mimi when she wakes up. Of course, I understand if you have other plans.”
Lupe shyly shook her head. “I go home and come back. I must see to my granddaughter when she comes from school.”
Kate let Dasher decide. She might want to spend time alone with her father. Dasher briefly gave Kate a look that she understood immediately. Dasher wanted her to stay. Kate agreed with only her eyes. How odd that they’d known each other only a few weeks, not counting the five years before, and they were communicating without words like a couple. Like she’d seen her parents do. She had read about things like that.
Dasher turned to her father, who had been watching intently, and Kate was sure he hadn’t missed a thing. His expression was unreadable, but he seemed pleased when they both agreed.
*
Kate left the hospital at eight o’clock and drove straight home. If she’d been tired before, she was exhausted now. Mimi was rather groggy, but she had squeezed Kate’s hand and thanked her for being there for her and Dash. She seemed happy to hear Jerry’s voice, and they were holding hands when Kate and Dasher slipped out of the room.
Holding hands. She had so wanted to hold Dasher’s hand in the waiting room, but hadn’t. She’d wanted to take her hand again in the hallways, the elevator, at the restaurant. But she didn’t.
She’d held hands with some of her dates, her sister, her mother. She’d seen girls do it in high school and college, but she had so few female friends, it seemed foreign to her.
Now she was obsessing about what holding Dasher’s hand would be like. She knew she couldn’t. Look what happened every time they touched! It would be like kissing her, for God’s sake. Kissing would be next, she had no doubt. Probably more, and that thought overheated every system in her body.
If she held Dasher Pate’s hand she’d never stop and her career would be over. Teenage boys and young men were so homophobic, they’d drop her at the box office immediately. Her gay male actor friends told her that was why they needed to keep their orientation a secret—straight women didn’t like their fantasies exploded. The movies were a business of illusion, after all.
She couldn’t worry about that right now. The larger problem was why she wanted to hold Dasher’s hand. Could she really be falling in love with her? Would that make her a lesbian like Laurel? Well, yeah.
It would also answer some questions that had been popping into her head lately. Like, why was she so content to help her gay friends out if they needed a date? Answer: She needed one, too. One that ended with a chaste good-night peck on the cheek or sleeping in a separate bedroom. The tabloids billed her as wanton and lusty, which was nowhere near the truth. Except when she thought of Dasher.
Next question: Why did she go out only with straight men who were jerks, more interested in publicity than in her, and she could easily dump? Answer: She just wasn’t drawn to men who were straight, decent, and obviously attracted to her. Like Jason Beresford. Although after seeing him with Greta, she had revised that thought. Jason might have been attracted to Kate, yet he was entranced with Greta. But there were others. Her mother kept telling her she was too picky. She kept telling herself that she just hadn’t met the right one. Was that true?
Or was the truth that she had met the right one, five years ago? The ramifications of that possibility were so complex that Kate had to sit down. Then she stood up, poured a glass of Syrah, and sat down again. Then she went to her home gym and worked out, showered, tried to eat something, and sat down once more in front of the untouched glass of wine.
How would she explain this new development to her parents? Her fans? Her staff? Like it or not, celebrities were cottage industries. They employed publicists, agents, attorneys, assistants, drivers, and the list went on. She risked her career and disappointing so many.
Warning herself not to leap to conclusions, she tried for some perspective. Kate knew without a doubt that she was drawn to Dasher. But maybe she was simply bored and loved drama. She was between projects, around all those lesbian friends of Laurel and Stefanie.
She stared at the wine. She really liked those women but didn’t want to date them. Just hang out. They were real. They treated her like a friend. This was a new environment and she liked it. That was it. She didn’t want to date one of them, although a few were pretty hot.
She sorted through the mail and stopped when she arrived at a large manila envelope hand-addressed to her from Laurel. Few people had her personal street address.
She opened it and saw the proof sheets from the photo shoot. She was musing that the photographer had done a good job when she skidded to a halt at the shots of her and Dasher on that huge motorcycle. There it was—all the confirmation she needed.
She sipped. Dasher, those damned eyes. They had somehow burned into her soul the moment Kate met her. If she was being completely honest, with herself at least, she conjured them up when she was performing a love scene in a film. And when she couldn’t fall asleep at night. Dasher’s eyes held mystery and a deep understanding that she’d never found before or since, and that lulled her into a complete sense of serenity.
She’d always reasoned that it was her imagination, but getting to know Dasher only confirmed her fantasy. Oh, God. Things had changed, because now when she envisioned Dasher’s eyes, she wasn’t able to fall asleep at all. Rather, she became aroused to the point of no sleep. And she didn’t see much rest in her future, either, because she was getting worse.
The moment Dasher had touched her at the hotel photo shoot, her carefully constructed papier-mâché life had begun to dissolve and she didn’t see how she could paste it back together. As she gazed at the pictures, the proof was right in front of her.
Draining her glass, she choked on the last drops. It hadn’t occurred to her until that moment that there was one more risk in this whole scenario. Perhaps it was the biggest one. What if Dasher didn’t feel the same way?
Why would she care what Kate was feeling after the shabby way Kate had treated her for the past five years? She’d be crazy to have anything but resentment toward her. The thought of Dasher turning her back on Kate made her stomach twist painfully.
She carefully washed the crystal wineglass, dried it, and put it in the cabinet. Walking purposefully to her home office, she methodically opened the computer and checked her calendar. By rearranging some magazine interviews and doing one by telephone, she could put a few days together. Laurel had asked her if she’d do a final run-through of the hotel opening that was less than two weeks away.
She made her reservations.