A Song for the Asking Read online

  From the beginning Petrinski had made it clear he believed Travis had the ability to become a virtuoso performer. Yet after years of instruction Petrinski seemed to be growing increasingly impatient with Travis—working him harder, pushing him toward some threshold he seemed unable to cross. Now, with a flash of insight, Travis suddenly realized that whenever he sat at the keyboard, the emotion he most strongly felt wasn’t love, or satisfaction, or even pride. It was guilt.

  “Well, is it?”

  “I … I don’t know.”

  “In that case maybe it’s time to reassess your goals,” Kane advised, still speaking quietly. “I know your mom wouldn’t approve of what I’m saying, but I think you should start considering doing something more productive, something you could really be proud of.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, Trav. That’s up to you. But whatever it is, if you really commit to it, I’ll support it.”

  “What about you, Dad?” asked Travis, surprised to be talking so freely with his father, but eager to change the subject. “Say you could have any job you wanted. Would you still be a cop?”

  “Yep. Hard to believe, but true,” Kane answered. “No, I take that back. There is one other thing I’d like. Being in professional sports would be great—say football, for instance—but mostly because of the money. Not that I won’t be damn proud of your brother if he turns pro after college. But disregarding the money, I would still take being on the force. Not that there aren’t things wrong with it,” he added.

  “Like every time you turn on the news and see the LAPD getting a black eye?”

  “Yeah, for one,” Kane sighed. “Listen, kid. There are bad apples in any group you want to name—politicians, teachers, Boy Scout leaders—hell, even priests and nuns. Anyone who condemns a whole organization because of a few mutts in the pack is an idiot.”

  “I know that, Dad,” said Travis, having heard it before.

  “Aside from that,” Kane continued, “I guess the worst part about being a cop is taking shit from the brass and putting up with the asswipes we have to deal with every day, which is probably the same crap you have to take on any job.” Kane paused, seeming about to add something more.

  “What, Dad?”

  “Being on the force does tend to isolate you,” Kane admitted. “Most people are glad to see a cop when they need one, but they get uncomfortable around us the rest of the time. I see it plenty. After seventeen years on the force I consider myself a good judge of character, which is basically why I don’t like many people. Most of my friends are cops, and that’s just fine with me, but I guess your mom wishes I fit into her world a little better.”

  “So what is it you like about being a cop? Helping people?”

  “Hell, that’s what every rookie thinks when he starts out,” Kane snorted. “Granted, there are moments. Everybody gets a few chances to do something good like saving a kid or keeping someone from getting hurt, but by the time you’ve been on the street very long, the idea of helping people becomes just that—a nice idea that doesn’t match up in real life.”

  “What, then?”

  “I’ll tell you, Trav. It doesn’t have anything to do with my dad being a cop, or helping that throng of hairballs out there called the public, or fulfilling some dark, secret desire for busting heads. Or that it beats the hell out of most nine-to-five jobs. The reason is simple: I like being a cop because I’m good at it.”

  “Maybe there’re other things you’d be good at, too.”

  “Maybe.”

  After a long pause, Travis asked, “Have you ever shot anybody?”

  “Jeez, Travis. What is this, twenty questions?”

  “Just wondering. Have you?”

  “No one who didn’t deserve it.”

  “Are you ever scared on the job?”

  “Hell, yes. Any cop who tells you he’s not occasionally scared shitless is pissin’ up your back and telling you it’s rain.”

  “Then how do you …”

  “Do what has to be done? Easy. You just do it, scared or not. Everybody’s afraid sooner or later. Courage, valor, bravery—those are just fancy words that don’t mean spit. The guys who make the cut are the ones who can do what they have to, despite their fear.”

  “Kind of like climbing? You’re afraid to make a move, but you know you have to, so you go ahead and do it anyway?”

  “Exactly,” said Kane. “Except in police work there’s no rope if you fall. There’s no rope in real life either, Travis.”

  “I know.”

  “You do, huh? Then start acting like it.” As if to signal the end of their discussion, Kane twisted up the volume on the radio.

  Roused by the music, Catheryn sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Where are we?”

  “Almost to San Luis Obispo,” Kane answered. “Time to wake up the troops. To quote the pervert who caught his pecker in a revolving door …”

  “… won’t be long now,” Travis finished.

  “Right,” said Kane.

  The rest of the family was stirring again by the time they reached San Luis Obispo, where Highway 101 split into two main arteries. The primary branch turned inland and followed the Salinas River north, avoiding the Santa Lucia range along the coast. The other branch veered toward the ocean, skirting the mountains as it wound its way up the Pacific shelf. Taking the coastal route, Kane passed through Morro Bay and continued north. Soon the road narrowed to two lanes, flashing through the towns of Cayucos, Harmony, and Cambria. At San Simeon, Kane turned right, heading into the mountains.

  A few miles farther on, the Hearst San Simeon State Historical Monument, better known as Hearst Castle, came into view, the twin towers of the Casa Grande rising majestically before them, nestled like jewels in the rolling foothills. Silently, the family stared in awe at the mammoth estate built by Randolph Hearst as a monument to his own power and wealth.

  “There she is, Nate,” said Kane. That’s about the closest you’re ever going to come to a real castle anywhere around here. What do you think?”

  “Awesome, Dad,” said Nate, his eyes shining with excitement. “Can we … can we go in?”

  “Oh, we’re going in, all right,” said Kane, enjoying his son’s reaction. “I made tour reservations two months back, got up early, dragged you all out of bed, and endured everyone’s moaning and groaning for several hundred miles so we could take in this pile of rocks. After all that, you can be damn sure of one thing: We are definitely going in.”

  5

  Late Saturday night Kane eased the Suburban to a stop in front of the beach house. With a weary sigh, he shut off the engine. The children, exhausted from the journey, had slept through most of the return trip. Now, sensing they’d finally arrived home, the three in the backseat roused themselves and piled slowly from the car.

  “What’s this? Another project?” Tommy asked drowsily as he noticed a stack of construction lumber and six 55-gallon drums sitting on the street in front of the house.

  “Yeah,” Kane replied, walking to the rear of the car. “Had the stuff delivered today. Hit the sack. I’ll tell you about it in the morning.”

  “Right. Good night, Dad.”

  “Good night, Tom. Night, rookies,” he called after Travis and Allison, who were already stumbling toward the front door.

  “Good night, Dad.”

  “Damn, when’s this kid gonna put on some weight?” Kane said softy as he lifted his youngest from the luggage space behind the backseat. As he did, Sam, who’d been sleeping beside Nate, looked up expectantly. “Kate, can you get the mutt out?”

  “I’ll take care of Sam,” Catheryn answered. “You put Nate to bed. See you inside.”

  Kane carried Nate into the house. He stopped in the entry, shifting his sleeping son to free an arm. Then, after reaching up to flip open a trapdoor in the ceiling, he climbed a vertical ladder bolted to the wall beside the entry closet. Pausing at the top, he gently rolled the boy from his shoulder onto a single bed occupyi
ng most of the tiny rooftop chamber that had been converted to Nate’s bedroom. A lambent glow from the moon spilled through an open window, dimly revealing the interior: a dresser, bedside table, lamp, desk, and a disorganized bookshelf filled with toys and games. But most dominant in the room were the photographs, sketches, and posters of various European castles and châteaux—from crude Norman motte-and-bailey fortifications to sumptuous eighteenth-century French châteaux de plaisance—festooning almost every available inch of wall space. Even the low, sloping ceiling was almost completely covered.

  Still perched on the ladder, Kane leaned in and removed his son’s shoes. See you tomorrow, Nate,” he said softly, covering him with a blanket.

  “Night, Dad,” Nate’s sleepy voice murmured from beneath the covers. Then, as Kane started down, “Dad?”

  “What, squirt?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure kid. Happy birthday.”

  When he reached the bottom of the ladder, Kane found Catheryn sifting through Saturday’s mail. Without speaking she tossed the handful of letters and bills she’d been inspecting onto a small table by the front door, then circled his waist and led him to their bedroom at the far end of the hall. “What’s Nate’s thing with castles, anyway?” Kane mused on the way, not for the first time.

  “I don’t know. Whatever it is, he certainly enjoyed himself today. We all did, Dan. That was a nice thing you did.”

  “The ol’ dad comes through for his kids, as usual,” said Kane, unbuttoning his shirt.

  “Uh-huh. Speaking of coming through for the kids, don’t you think you’ve been a bit hard on Travis lately?”

  “Hell, no. That kid needs to shape up.”

  Catheryn moved to the dresser and began methodically brushing her long auburn hair. “Not the kind of shaping up you have in mind. I overheard some of the advice you gave him today.”

  “Uh, exactly what advice are you referring to?” asked Kane guiltily. “The part about getting off his ass and—“

  “You know the part I’m talking about. Does ‘classical music is just fine as a hobby, or when you’re trying to get your date in the mood’ ring a bell?”

  “Aw, hell, Kate. You know what I was trying to tell the boy.”

  “I know exactly what you were trying to tell him. Why can’t you just let him make up his own mind for a change?”

  “Because he’s been drifting for years without making a commitment, that’s why. On top of that, thanks to your coddling, he’s scared of his own shadow. Now, Tommy, for instance—”

  “Travis isn’t Tommy, Dan. You’re going to have to accept that. In his own way Travis is a strong person. Just maybe not by your standards.”

  Kane finished unbuttoning his shirt and moved to stand behind Catheryn at the dresser. As she continued stroking her hair, he began to knead the muscles of her back and neck. “Those standards have always worked just fine for me,” he said.

  Catheryn put down her brush and pulled off her light cotton sweater, moaning with pleasure as Kane’s fingers expertly explored the knots and cramps in her back engendered by hours of riding in the car. “God, that feels good. Don’t stop.”

  “You have to learn to relax more, Kate. You’re carrying a lot of tension here, and here …”

  “Aaahh,” Catheryn groaned as Kane continued to massage her shoulders with hands that knew her body as well as his own. “You do that so well,” she purred. “But if you’re trying to make me forget our discussion, it won’t work.”

  “I’ll tell you something, sugar. I think you’re doing the same thing you’re accusing me of—namely, trying to get Travis to see things your way. It’s confusing him, and it’s making him soft.”

  Catheryn arched and unsnapped heir bra, allowing Kane’s strong hands full access to her back. Feeling her muscles beginning to loosen, she said quietly, “The words ‘soft’ and ‘sensitive’ aren’t necessarily interchangeable. There’s a big difference.”

  “Not in my playbook.”

  “Listen, Dan. I heard someone on TV say that no matter how hard parents try, in one way or another they always manage to screw up their kids. I’ll make you a deal. Let’s divide the guilt. You’ve already got Tommy. Let me have Trav.”

  “What about Allison and Nate?” chuckled Kane. “Who gets to screw them up?”

  Catheryn smiled. “We’ll work that out later.” All at once she noticed a small black box sitting on her dresser. “What’s this?”

  Kane grinned.

  Catheryn opened the box. Inside, sparkling on a bed of pure-white velvet, lay a pair of antique emerald earrings. “Oh, Dan, they’re beautiful,” she whispered.

  Kane shifted from foot to foot, seeming embarrassed. Even though money had often been difficult during the early years of their marriage, each time they’d had a child, he’d always managed to present Catheryn with a modest piece of emerald jewelry, and the green stones had grown to have special significance for them both. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not suggesting we have another kid. It’s just this being Nate’s birthday, and his being our last and all, I thought …”

  Catheryn took Kane’s hands in hers. “Dan Kane, as infuriating as you can sometimes be,” she said, “I love you.” And placing her arms around his neck, she kissed him.

  Returning her embrace, Kane pulled her to him, his desire mounting as her body nestled into his. He ran his hands up the strong curve of her spine, her breasts warm and full against him. Then he drew back slightly. Tipping up her chin, he looked into her eyes. “I love you back, Kate,” he said softly. “With all my heart.”

  “I know, Dan.

  “Come to bed,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,” Catheryn laughed, pushing against Kane’s chest and squirming from his grasp. “Be there in a sec.”

  As Kane crawled under the covers, Catheryn returned to the dresser and inserted the emerald studs into her ears, inspecting them from different angles with obvious pleasure.

  “They look great on you, gorgeous,” said Kane. “Match your eyes.”

  Catheryn glanced at him in the mirror, playfully pushing her hair high on her head with one hand and resting the other seductively on her hip. Then, turning to face the bed, she slowly removed the rest of her clothes. As she bent to slide her underwear down her long, shapely legs, her hair spilling over her shoulders to her small, well-formed breasts, something in her lean silhouette reminded Kane of a cat—agile, strong, graceful.

  “Come to bed,” he whispered again.

  She slipped in beside him, her breath warm on his lips, her mouth softly insistent as he took her in his arms. Tonight she wanted to lead, and he let her, responding swiftly to her touch, her gently probing tongue, her whispered endearments. Her skin felt silky and smooth as her breasts pressed into his chest, her nipples hardening, her body moving against his in a hypnotic rhythm as ancient as life itself. Their kisses, at first tentative and exploring, quickly turned passionate, taking on a quality of sweet abandon, reflecting a hunger neither could deny. They joined and climbed as one, slowly at first, then faster, faster, until finally Catheryn arched against him and cried out softly, shuddering with pleasure. Losing himself in her embrace, Kane joined her a moment later, everything simple and perfect and flowing and complete.

  Afterward, long after Catheryn had fallen asleep, Kane lay awake in the darkness, his mind roaming a dreamlike landscape, a canvas filled with images of castles and car rides and the delighted face of his youngest son. Hours later, as a crescent moon began lighting the sky to the east, he finally drifted off, lulled by the gentle sound of Catheryn’s breathing and the soft, rhythmic pounding of the surf.

  6

  The next morning Travis found his father on the deck having coffee with Arnie. The rest of the household had just begun to stir—Allison keeping Catheryn company as she puttered in the kitchen, Tommy still in bed, Nate thumping around in his bedroom over the entry. “Hey, there’s my favorite godson,” Arnie said
with an avuncular grin as he spotted Travis coming out the door.

  Travis smiled back. “Hi, Arnie. Bet you say that to all the Kane kids.”

  “Only the ones with peckers,” noted Kane, rocking back in his chair. “Is Tommy awake yet?”

  “Morning, Dad. Tommy said he wanted to sleep in, seeing as how we start work tomorrow.”

  “Negative. Get him up,” Kane ordered. “After Mass you two are going to hump that load of lumber sitting in front of the house down to the beach. Now, make yourself scarce. Arnie and I have something to discuss.”

  “Right, Dad.” Travis retreated up the stairs, briefly glancing back to see Kane and Arnie resuming what appeared to be a serious conversation. Curious, he paused. Unable to hear what they were saying, he shrugged and continued to the top landing. Once there, he yelled for Tommy to get up, then followed his nose to the kitchen, where Catheryn had a breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausage, fried potatoes, orange juice, and coffee well under way.

  “Good morning,” she said sunnily as he entered.

  “Morning, Mom. Hi, Ali,” said Travis, crossing to the stove and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

  “Since when do you drink coffee, young man?” Catheryn asked curiously.

  “Since now, Mom. I’m still beat from yesterday, and Dad’s already got some big project laid out for Tommy and me.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Catheryn gave the eggs cooking on the stove a quick stir, then grabbed a spatula and expertly flipped the pancakes she had cooking on a skillet.

  “Need any help?”

  “No thanks, honey. Go ahead and start. These’ll be done shortly.” Catheryn turned to Allison. “Ali, go call your father and see what’s keeping your brothers.”