The Secret Hour (16 page)

 
Teddy scored, and Shoreline went ahead, 2-1. Kate pumped her fists in the air, shouting with glee. That morning, returning from her walk along the bluff with Bonnie, she’d found a note signed by Teddy, tucked under her windshield wiper and asking her “if she had nothing better to do,” to come to the game. She had planned to check out of the inn, head up the coast to Rhode Island, and broaden her search for Willa. But Teddy’s request had touched her heart so completely, she’d decided to postpone her departure.

 
“
Better
to do?” she’d asked Teddy as he’d run by, taking the field. “This is the best offer I’ve had since coming to Connecticut!”

 
Now, still cheering his goal, she felt someone tap her arm. Bonnie let out a short, friendly yelp. A woman stood there, slim and blond, wearing a tight ski-suit-looking outfit. Her lips were full, shiny with gloss, her eyes made up in stylish shades of beige and slate. The only blight on her perfect face was her tiny nose, flaming red from the cold.

 
“Hi, there,” the woman said, backing off slightly from the dog.

 
“Hello,” Kate said, smiling. “She’s friendly,” she added.

 
“Do I…know you?” the woman asked, totally ignoring Bonnie’s tail-wagging hello.

 
“I don’t think so,” Kate began, but her voice caught: Could this woman have met Willa, mistaken Kate for her sister? “Do I remind you of someone?”

 
“I’m not sure,” the woman said, laughing. “People always remind me of someone else. But I heard you cheering for Teddy O’Rourke.”

 
“Yes, the team hero.” Kate smiled.

 
“How do you know Teddy?”

 
Kate was taken aback by the woman’s directness.

 
“Well, I sort of know his father.”

 
“Oh, Johnny. We’re pals from way back. Are you a personal friend? Or a client?”

 
“Neither,” Kate said, feeling herself close off. The woman was staring at her with a hungry grin, as if she wanted to jump inside her skin and find out what she was doing with John O’Rourke. Although the woman wore several rings, none of them looked like a wedding band. Did she think Kate was intruding on the local single-man territory?

 
“Well, whatever. I’m Sally Carroll. It’s nice you’re here for Teddy. Theresa—his mother—was my best friend. She never missed a game. That’s my son—number thirty-two. Bert and Teddy have been friends since ‘Mommy and Me.’ And Theresa and I date back to high school—we were all in the same crowd.”

 
“I’m sorry…you lost your friend,” Kate said.

 
Sally nodded. “Yes, it was very unexpected. Well…nice talking to you. You know, you really do remind me of someone.”

 
“My sister was in town,” Kate said, her pulse quickening. “Maybe you met her? She stayed at the East Wind…”

 
Sally smiled. “Like I said, everyone looks like someone else to me…”

 
Kate opened her mouth to say more, but Sally hurried away. Going straight to a cluster of other mothers, she began to talk in a low voice, so Kate couldn’t hear. Still, by the way the women looked over, she knew that Sally was spreading the word, that there was a stranger in town watching Teddy O’Rourke play soccer.

 
When she looked up, to see Teddy passing the ball downfield, she caught sight of a man wearing a Shoreline High windbreaker, watching—not the soccer team, but her. Tall and thin, in his thirties, with dark eyes and short curly hair, he frowned in Kate’s direction, as if, like Sally Carroll, he was trying to place her.

 
At halftime, when the teams gathered round the benches to drink water and strategize, Teddy ran over to Kate.

 
“Thanks for coming,” he said, breathless. Then, bending down to pet the Scottie, “You have a dog?”

 
“Bonnie. She’s my sister’s.”

 
“Good dog, Bonnie.”

 
“Great first half, Teddy,” she said. “I’m really glad I saw you score.”

 
“Me, too.”

 
Kate wanted to ask where his father was, but she noticed a deep sadness in Teddy’s eyes that she recognized from Willa. When her sister was little, no matter how hard Kate had tried to get away from college or work, Willa had sometimes had to go to field hockey, glee club, and art shows on her own.

 
“He’d be here if he could,” Kate heard herself saying.

 
“I know.”

 
“He’s a big-time lawyer,” she said. “Even dads with jobs half as important as his have to work during the day.”

 
“My mom used to come,” he said.

 
“I know. Sally Carroll told me.”

 
Teddy’s eyes narrowed. He seemed to shiver, looking over at the group of mothers—all watching him and Kate.

 
“They wonder who you are,” he said.

 
“Well, it’s a small town.”

 
“Yeah,” Teddy said. Just then, they saw the mothers turn their heads as one, and Kate spotted Teddy’s coach coming their way.

 
“Hey, O’Rourke—better hydrate if you want to have a good second half.”

 
“Okay, Mr. Jenkins,” Teddy said.

 
Jenkins? Wasn’t that the name of Kate’s hosts, Felicity and Barkley? Kate was about to ask, when the coach crossed his arms across his chest and gave her a cute, crooked smile.

 
“A new fan,” he said.

 
“Excuse me?”

 
“I know most of the moms around here. You must be…an aunt?”

 
“No,” Kate said, smiling. “Just a friend.”

 
“I’m Hunt Jenkins…and you’re…help me out.”

 
“My name is Kate Harris.”

 
“Well, nice to meet you, Kate. Any friend of Teddy’s is a friend of mine.”

 
“Yes,” Kate said, flashing a big smile. “Your star player!”

 
“Yup. Best forward since my cousin Caleb used to play.”

 
“Caleb Jenkins?” she asked, remembering how John had mentioned the name—the client who’d borrowed the motorboat. “Then you must be related to Felicity.”

 
“She’s my sister-in-law. How do you know her?”

 
“I’m staying at the East Wind,” Kate said, aware of all the questions she’d answered that day, of how the locals looked after each other. It was the same in Chincoteague, and for a moment she longed for the ease and anonymity of life in the city, of Andrew’s world in Washington. She’d be returning home soon…just a few more stops in New England, and then she’d be back in D.C.

 
“Well, well. Small world.”

 
Suddenly the man with the dark curls and Shoreline windbreaker came walking over. Kate saw Sally wave him over, but he just threw her a smile and kept walking.

 
“Hi, Hunt,” he said. “Who’s your friend?”

 
“I’m Kate Harris,” she said.

 
“Peter Davis. Nice to meet you.”

 
“You, too,” she said.

 
“She’s not a mom or an aunt,” Hunt explained. “Just a soccer fan and a friend of Teddy O’Rourke’s.”

 
“Great…listen, Hunt—got a second? I’ve got a great second half strategy, something from my soccer days at Hotchkiss…”

 
“Any help gladly taken.” Hunt grinned. “My job depends on winning!”

 
“Take care, Kate,” Peter said. “Nice to meet you. Maybe you’ll wind up at the Witch’s Brew later…Friday and Saturday nights, there’s a band.”

 
“Yes,” Hunt Jenkins said. “Save me a dance, Kate.”

 
“I don’t think…” Kate began, blushing as she felt his eyes on her body.

 
“Hey, time!” one of the soccer officials yelled, and Hunt and Peter hurried toward the sidelines to confer on game tactics.

 
Both benches began to empty out, and someone in the crowd squeezed an air horn. The cheerleaders, dressed in their Halloween masks and pointy black hats, began to dance on the sidelines, in anticipation.

 
Teddy grinned, reaching his fist out. Willa used to do the same thing, so Kate clinked knuckles with her young friend, and watched him take the field. Hunt Jenkins smiled, walking backward, but she ignored him, and he eventually turned away.

 
A woman behind Kate was talking to her friend. “Which one’s the lawyer’s son?” she asked.

 
“That tall boy—number twenty-two.”

 
“It’s not his fault, but still—I wonder if his father sees the unfairness of his children being free to enjoy life while those girls lie buried…”

 
“I know—it’s disgusting to me, thinking of Greg Merrill alive and well while Toni Moore is dead. She used to run on that track, right over there. She was such a fine athlete…”

 
“Oh, she was. She made our town proud. John O’Rourke ought to be ashamed of himself, working on behalf of her killer. Talk about a warped set of priorities…no wonder Theresa did what she did. I can’t imagine being close to someone who thinks like he does.”

 
The two women clucked, and Kate felt her back stiffen.

 
“Did you hear about the brick through his window? Look at his son out there—playing soccer, running in the sun. It’s almost criminal, when you think of those girls, of the unfairness.”

 
“What’s unfair—” Kate snapped, turning around fast, thinking of Willa, thinking of Teddy, her heart in a knot. She felt anger exploding, and she stared straight into the shocked faces of two suburban women. “—And what’s
criminal
is taking any of this out on his children. They didn’t do anything. They’re as innocent as the victims.”

 
“Who are you?” one of the women asked, anger in her eyes.

 
“Their friend,” Kate said, backing away, watching Teddy take the ball down the field. Her heart was racing, as if she were running toward the goal herself. She had seen the broken glass, the blood on John’s face, the terror in Maggie’s and Teddy’s eyes. The whole town was talking about the O’Rourke family, and the kids had to know.

 
Teddy, at least, was a teenager, and probably heard things about his parents. Kate’s stomach clenched. The women behind her continued to whisper, and Kate moved away.

 
John had heard the expression “move heaven and earth” his whole life, but he’d never actually done it until today. He rushed his associates through reports of their research projects—one in charge of medical testimony, another whose memo on change-of-venue would certainly make its way into the appeal. He spoke with two psychiatrists, arranged interviews the following week, and postponed a visit to the prison.

 
Swinging by his father’s house, he picked up Maggie and Brainer, and made it to the field just as the second half got underway. He parked on the grass, and walked briskly toward the Shoreline side as Maggie and the dog bounded ahead. Teddy had the ball; he was dribbling fast and furiously, setting up the shot.

 
“You’ve got it, Ted,” John called. “Shoot!”

 
“Teddddyyyyyyyyyyyy!” Maggie yelled.

 
The crowd jumped up and down, and John reeled with pride, knowing the excitement was all for his son. John had played soccer at Shoreline and, later, at Yale, and he knew how great it felt to hear everyone shouting your name. He hoped that Teddy could distinguish his among the voices, and he felt a sharp stab, remembering how few games his own busy lawyer father had made it to.

 
Teddy passed, his teammate held up as Teddy tore into place. The pass came, Teddy angled it in, and the Shoreline side erupted as their team went up 3-1.

 
“Hello, John.”

 
John felt her arms around his neck, her lips on his cheek before he saw who it was: Sally Carroll.

 
“Hi, Sally.”

 
“Quite a chip off the old block. I seem to remember his old man pulling a move just like that—scoring when Shoreline needed it most.”

 
“Long time ago,” John said, looking past her shoulder to the man she’d been standing with. Peter Davis, a friend of Teddy’s coach; John knew he had bought a house in Point Heron, and he’d heard that Sally had started dating him during her separation. The whole idea of dating—of trying to connect, trust another person again—gave John such a strong reaction that he felt a shiver go all the way down his spine.

 
“Yes, well, we do date back…old friend,” Sally said.