Carol Steward - Her Kind Of Hero

“We’re going to start with a defensive move. I’m going to need a volunteer to help me demonstrate.” Hands flew into the air, yet he looked right at Calli, as if waiting for her objection. “Miss…?” he teased.

Begrudgingly she stepped forward. “Calli.”

Luke explained the move, then demonstrated the steps in slow motion. He wore the same spicy aftershave as that night in the hospital. She silently searched for a plausible explanation to the shiver that went up her arm as he held her wrist. His hold was firm, challenging her to break loose. Her move was quick and instinctive.

She expected him to call on another volunteer for the next demonstration, but he stepped behind her as she turned to leave and wrapped his arm around her neck, as a mugger would.

Calli braced herself on her left leg. She tugged at his arm, leaned forward, and “swept” at Luke’s legs with her foot. The move was enough to knock him to the floor so she could escape.

The class watched wide-eyed as Luke lay sprawled across the mat, laughing. He rose to one elbow. “A perfect example of the benefits of the element of surprise. Great job…Calli.”

Her heart raced. “Glad to help.” She returned his smile, careful to hide her pleasure at seeing him again. Class resumed, and Calli fought the constant temptation to join in his gentle sparring. He’d explain a move, then the class would pair up to practice. As he made his way to her group, Hanna seemed to enjoy seeing Calli’s discomfort escalate with each step Luke took.

“How’s it going here?” His voice seemed deeper than before.

Hanna spoke first. “I don’t quite understand.” Calli watched Luke go through the steps again, this time, wrapping his arm around Hanna’s neck. She couldn’t explain the crazy longing she had to trade places with her cousin at that moment.

“You kind of elbow the attacker in the stomach as you reach up….” Calli’s eyes met his, and she stopped. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“We’re here to learn, from one another or from me, it really doesn’t matter. Care to try it again? I’m ready this time.”

“I’ll give you a break.”

Luke smiled, then turned to the class. “I’ll be the first to say that one can never underestimate the opponent. That in itself could be a woman’s best defense.” Luke looked at his watch. “That’s it for tonight. Have a good week.”

Several women thanked Luke, then Calli for her “help.” A wave of giggles followed, and he shook his head.

“Calli, I’d be willing to forgive you, if you’d agree to help with the class. We seem to make a good team.”

Despite her laugh, Calli felt an unwelcome reaction to his innuendo. “Think the third time’s a charm, huh?”

“Third time? Unless I’m mistaken, we’ve only met twice.” He crossed his arms and put his back to the wall.

Great, Calli. How’re you going to get out of this one?

When she didn’t answer, he added, “Unless you consider tonight memorable enough to count as twice, which I happen to agree. Can’t remember being knocked off my feet by a more beautiful woman.”

Calli stepped aside, struggling to find an answer to his question before his flirting turned her brains to jelly. “No way,” she said, realizing she was way behind in the conversation. Forget it, Luke Northrup. No way am I going through this blessed torment every week! Enough is enough.

“Hanna, does your friend always back down from a challenge?”

“Cousin,” Hanna corrected.

His eyebrows arched and his mouth fell open. “Cousin?”

Calli watched as he eyed the two of them. Hanna and her long blond hair, blue eyes and robust figure, then Calli’s classic Italian coloring and willowy body.

“Plead the Fifth, Hanna, or you’ll be walking home.” She turned to leave, feeling Luke’s challenging stare.

Hanna leaned close and whispered. “What’s going on here, Calli?”

She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t admit the truth—that she was falling for another police officer.

“Just think about it. It’s one thing to have an instructor who can tell them what to do, but it’s something else altogether to see one of their own succeed. These women could learn a lot from you. I’ll call you this time.”

“Don’t bother. The answer’s no… Officer Northrup.”

Hanna looked at her, then to Luke and began laughing. “You’re kidding. Not again.”

Jon tried phoning Nate after dinner, but according to his five-year-old sister, Nate was supposedly at Jon’s. Jon had become his best friend’s alibi more than ever before. He wouldn’t have minded at one time, but fact was, he rarely saw Nate at all anymore, and Jon didn’t like his friend’s new pals.

He finished his algebra and threw his reading book aside. “I’m going to take the trash outside, Mrs. Maloney.”

She looked up from her knitting and seemed to know he had something on his mind. “Don’t take long. You haven’t finished the dishes, and I assume you still have reading to do.”

“It’s a stupid book,” he muttered.

“That may be your opinion, but I don’t think that will answer the questions on your test. Take a break, then get back to your homework, young man.”

Jon grumbled, then walked out of the apartment. He checked the stairway, then headed outside.

Nate’s recent hangout seemed to be the park. Without hesitation, Jon rounded the corner and sauntered to the end of the block. He saw Nate and his new friends near the picnic table, laughing. Jon paused, then backed behind a budding lilac bush and watched. The huddle tightened, then Nate backed away from the group and looked around.

A few more minutes passed, and the group broke up. Jon stepped into the alley and ran home. He rode the elevator to the third floor, waiting for his breathing to slow before going into the apartment. It was about ten minutes later that he heard the sirens, and wondered if they’d caught Nate this time.

The next morning, Jon went to school alone. Nate finally showed up third hour, unprepared for the reading test. After another of Nate’s outbursts of profanity, the teacher ordered him to finish the class period in the office. Wearing a smirk, Nate turned to Jon as he left the classroom. It was all Jon could do to meet his friend’s gaze.

In the lunchroom, Nate approached Jon. “So what’s up, Jonny boy?”

“What’s with you, Nate?” Jon kept eating.

His friend ignored the question. “Saw you at the park last night.”

Their eyes met. “You’re asking for trouble with them, Nate.”

“They’re my friends.”

“Whatever.”

Nate pushed his tray closer to Jon’s. “You the one who called the cops on us last night?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you. Besides, I’m not stupid enough to cross the Eastsiders.”

“They’re not so bad,” Nate insisted. “Give ‘em a break.”

Jon looked at his empty tray. “Nate, don’t tell your mom that you’re at my house next time you ditch out.” He stood and backed away from the table. “I’ll see you around.”

“How soon’s that cellular tracking system supposed to be active? That may be our best chance to find the anonymous caller.”

“A few weeks.” Tom took a swig of pop. “Typical glitches in the system. Tested it the other night. The call was made right outside the station. Showed in the system near Golden Acres.”

“A lot of good that does us.” Luke turned on the alley lights, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

“Let’s hope she can stay out of trouble until it’s ready.” Tom cleared his throat. “Say, you never finished telling me about Bart’s class last night.”