CHAPTER 3

Offering to get a glass of wine for Laura served two purposes. It was a considerate and welcoming gesture and it gave Bill a moment to clear his head. The memory of the warmth and feel of Laura's elegantly tapered hand in his callused one lingered tantalizingly. What he felt was an alien feeling that he could not readily rationalize. This wasn't simply an ordinary physical attraction; he'd felt that plenty of times before. This was something different – captivating, but also almost too much, like the scent of an exotic but overwhelmingly sweet incense freshly burning. Underneath the irrevocable pull that he felt toward her, there was something else, a painful ache that was an inexplicable mixture of sorrow and regret. None of it made any sense to Bill and he decided that his feelings were merely a peculiar manifestation of what his longtime friend and colleague Saul Tigh frequently accused him of: he spent too much time alone these days and needed to, as Tigh bluntly put it, "get laid." Tigh's crude analysis wasn't even the half of it. Bill hadn't had any serious relationships since his divorce. He glanced down furtively at the wedding band that he still wore and closed his eyes for a moment as he paid for Laura's glass of wine. The thought of allowing a woman to get close to him again was completely unnerving. Sex was the easy part. Not that he should be thinking about any of this in relation to Lee's future mother-in-law. Whatever strange spell had come over him, Bill decided that he'd better snap the hell out of it – and fast.

"Here you go, Laura," Bill said as he placed the glass of Chardonnay in front of her.

"Thank you," answered Laura, looking up at him for a fleeting moment. Bill's seat was next to hers and when he sat down, his shoulder brushed against Laura's arm as he pushed his chair back in.

"I'm sorry I – lost my train of thought," Laura apologized to Kara and Lee but she was looking at Bill.

"The apartment," prompted Lee.

"Oh, yes. A new building is opening up – about a mile from my place, in fact. High ceilings. Great lighting. View of the park."

"Mom, I like my apartment," said Kara firmly but not unkindly.

Laura sighed unhappily. "I know." Kara rented a loft on the west side, an artsy section of Caprica famous for its myriad of painters and musicians, struggling actors, would-be dancers, and enthusiastic journalists hoping to break into the business. Kara simply liked the energy and ever-throbbing pulse that beat constantly in this little Bohemian corner of the city. Unfortunately, the crime rate was high and Laura worried. "No pressure," Laura added softly.

Kara studied her mother's concerned face and leaned over to her, lightly pressing her forehead against Laura's, a shared gesture that had been singularly theirs since Kara was a little girl. "I'll look at it," she relented.

Laura smiled. "Thank you."

Kara grinned. "I won't remind you that you had a little studio over in my same area when you were – what –21? 22?"

"I was 23," Laura amended. She took a sip of her wine. "And the neighborhood was different then."

Kara tilted her head toward Bill and Lee and lowered her voice as if she were confiding something very secret, "Her lock was broken and every so often – "

"Kara," interrupted Laura, "I'm sure the admiral doesn't want to hear about this."

"Oh, on the contrary," Bill planted his hand against his chin, "the admiral does."

Laura looked from Kara to Bill. "Don't encourage her," she snapped lightly.

"Every so often," Kara continued, "the neighbor below her would get completely smashed and fall asleep on her couch in his underwear."

"He was harmless," Laura clarified. "It was sad, really. He'd get so drunk he'd forget which apartment was his and just crash on my sofa."

Lee was grinning. "But it was her upstairs neighbors that were the real problem," he explained.

"How many people have you told this story to?" Laura asked her daughter with an exasperated sigh.

"It's funny!" giggled Kara.

"The couple above me was in their mid-forties. He worked on films – painting movie sets, props, other studio related art projects. She worked at a hotel front desk. They were ideal neighbors because they never complained about my piano practicing. But, unfortunately, they were very…." Laura searched for a polite way to say it. "…amorous."

"They frakked constantly," explained Kara with a wide smile.

"Laura's light fixtures would vibrate," Lee chimed in.

"And they made cracks in the ceiling!" exclaimed Kara.

Laura laughed. "It was pretty awful. There was a coffee shop across the way that was open all night; I can't tell you how many times I'd slip out of the apartment just to get away from the constant….thumping."

Bill smiled and Laura immediately liked the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners. It softened his features and she smiled back. The conversation flowed easily and eventually came back to Lee and Kara's future plans. Laura got the distinct impression that Bill wanted the couple to wait until Lee finished law school before getting married. His laughing blue eyes were completely forgotten as he launched into a thinly veiled narrative on the benefits of taking things slowly. Laura firmly believed in allowing Kara and Lee to forge their own path and Bill's unsolicited advice, no matter how well-intentioned, irritated her.

"I'm sure that you and Lee will set a date that's right for you," Laura interrupted Bill finally, directly addressing her daughter.

"I'm sure they will, too," Bill responded, his gaze intent on Laura. "Kara still has another couple of years of service and Lee's finishing up law school. My point was simply that they don't have to rush. But, of course, they can decide for themselves." Bill leaned back slightly in his chair. He had married Carolanne – too young, too soon. Neither of them had known what they had wanted, not really. He wanted something different for Lee and for Kara. It wasn't that he didn't like Kara – on the contrary, he had grown to love her, almost like a daughter. But he wanted them both to be sure and to be ready. He sure as hell hadn't been.

"That's very magnanimous of you, Bill," Laura said, "to grant them permission to decide for themselves." Her tone was neutral. Her message wasn't.

There was a sudden awkward lull in the conversation. Laura observed Lee giving his father a quick, pleading look from across the table. Bill returned the gesture with a silent and begrudging huff. Laura wondered if Bill was a typical military parent; she had observed the type before with her students: controlling and opinionated. Even when well-meaning, they often had a tendency to push their kids away with their rigid approach to parenting.

Laura's speculation was interrupted by an enthusiastic male voice exclaiming, "Bill!"

A man with graying silver-blonde hair stood by their table, smiling broadly. His smile widened when he saw Lee. "And Lee! It's been years. How are you?"

Paul Hutchins had been Lee and Zak's swim coach back in high school and was an old family friend. Bill and Lee both stood up to greet him. "I'm doing fine, Paul," Bill answered in his husky baritone. "This is Kara Thrace, Lee's fiancée, and this is Laura Roslin, her mother. We were just celebrating their engagement."

Paul greeted the two women with a friendly smile. "Congratulations!" he exclaimed. "How's Zak doing?" he asked, inquiring after Bill's younger son. There was a slight pause before Bill answered.

"Zak was killed in a racing accident three years ago," Bill said quietly.

"Oh my goodness." Paul's expression shifted from bright and beaming to stricken in a matter of seconds. "I'm so, so sorry."

Bill coughed. "Thank you. How's Sylvia?" he asked.

"She's fine. She's in the ladies room. It's our twenty-fifth anniversary. I'm sure she'll want to stop over and say hello."

"We'd like that," said Lee.

"Well, I don't want to interrupt your dinner," Paul said with forced cheerfulness. "Nice meeting you Kara…and Laura." With a smile and a wave, he went to go find his wife.

After Paul was out of sight, Bill downed the remainder of his gin and tonic in a few short gulps. The glass was ¾ full. "Another drink, anyone?" Bill asked as he stood up in one abrupt motion.

Laura's wine glass was empty but she shook her head curtly. "No, thank you." Kara and Lee also declined. Bill shrugged and disappeared in the crowd as he headed to the bar.

"It's still really difficult for him," Lee sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Of course it is," Laura nodded. Her eyes were warm and sympathetic as she looked at Lee. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Bill returned shortly after with a gin and tonic for himself and a glass of Chardonnay for Laura. He placed it in front of her. Laura narrowed her eyes and was about to icily inform Bill that she had not asked for another glass of wine when Kara gave her mother a gentle nudge under the table. Laura glared at her daughter and proceeded to fume silently at Bill. An absurd thought crossed Bill's mind as he felt the chill in Laura's gaze. Even angry, she was an exceptionally beautiful woman. He wanted to start the evening over again but he didn't know how to extricate himself from the shaky ground that they now stood on so precariously.

Lee filled the troublesome silence by engaging Laura in a lively conversation about some three-hundred year old classical piano manuscripts that were recently discovered in a museum archive in Piscera. Lee had a way about him, Bill reflected, always the diplomat – an innate ability that allowed him to smoothly soothe ruffled feathers. Lee certainly hadn't gotten that quality from him, or from Carolanne for that matter. Unlike Lee, Kara was much more apt to be direct and blunt than diplomatic. This marked difference in approach would either prove an asset to the couple or a disaster. Sometimes Bill felt that he understood Kara far more than he did his own loftily idealistic son. You never had to guess what Kara was feeling; it was always right there bubbling or seething at the surface.

The temporary ease in the tension at the table was short lived when the clasp on Laura's necklace suddenly came undone and the simple gold chain slid off of her neck. She almost caught it - but not quite in time, and it landed on the floor between her chair and Bill's. Bill bent down to retrieve the necklace. When he bobbed back up to place it in her hand, he accidentally bumped the full glass of white wine and watched in horror as the Secretary of Education ended up with a lapful of Chardonnay.

"I'm so sorry," apologized Bill as he offered her his linen napkin with an expression of sincere supplication.

"It's fine," Laura replied. She stood up. "I'm going to just…" Laura made a generalized gesture with her hands to indicate that she was going to exit the table. "….ladies room. Excuse me."

"I'll go with you," said Kara as she began to pull out her chair.

"No, no." Laura shook her head emphatically. Her tone was brusque; her resolve was final. "I'll just be a few moments. Really, it's nothing."

Laura walked gracefully into the ladies room as if she were not covered in wine. After a great deal of blotting, she was able to get her dress from a state of saturation to dampness but she could do nothing about the discoloration from the stain. There was a cream colored cashmere shawl in her car that she could wear to hide the sins of the wine, although she'd still spend the rest of the evening smelling like a brewery. Maybe she was being too hard on Bill. Just because he'd had a couple of extra drinks after being forced to remember his deceased son didn't necessarily make him an alcoholic. And his caution about Kara and Lee rushing into marriage could simply be the genuine concern of a loving parent and not an attack on her daughter or a sign that he was controlling. Her encouraging Kara to move into an apartment building closer to her could just as easily be misconstrued. The evening was about Kara and Lee, not about whether or not she liked the admiral. What was it about him that caused her to keep thinking about him anyway? As she proceeded out to the parking lot to her car, Laura decided that she would try to salvage this largely dreadful evening.

When Laura had been gone for a little over ten minutes, Kara announced that she was going to go check on her. At that moment, their waiter told Kara that her mother had asked him to let her know that she was running out to her car for her shawl and would be right back.

"I'm still going to see how she's doing," said Kara. Their dinner had just arrived.

"You sit down and enjoy this great meal with Lee," insisted Bill, standing up. "I'll check on your mother. Bill watched Kara and Lee exchange an uneasy glance. "You two could give me a better vote of confidence," he added wryly with a dash of his usual humor. "Look at it this way. I can't make it any worse, can I?" Lee opened his mouth to say something but Bill quickly interrupted him. "Don't answer that."

Outside, Bill discovered that it must have been raining. The black asphalt was slick, although the sky was now clear and full of stars. It must have been a passing shower. He scanned the parking lot for Laura, walking down several aisles. A few minutes later, her distinctive voice carried in his direction. If she had seemed cool toward him earlier, this was a whole new dimension of Laura Roslin's ire.

"You are in absolutely no condition to drive, sir," Laura was saying in a clipped, authoritative tone.

"Listen, lady," a male voice slurred, "get out of my way and mind your frakking business. I'm fine." Bill double timed it to the location that their voices were coming from. Laura was standing next to an unfamiliar black vehicle, holding onto the door while a man –who was twice her size and quite obviously drunk – was attempting to get behind the wheel.

"If you're not sensible enough to consider your own safety," she continued curtly, "then think about the lives of the people that you are endangering with your recklessness." She softened her tone but the animosity lingered. "I'll call you a cab." Bill decided right then and there that Kara's mother was insane. Trying to rationalize an argument with an intoxicated person in such a pragmatic manner was not the action of a sane person. Bill didn't have much time to consider further as he watched the man forcibly push Laura away, slide into his vehicle, shut the door, and rev up the engine. Adrenaline coursed through Bill's body as he watched the disoriented driver swerve as he made the pull out of his parking space.

He was headed straight for Laura.

Bill rushed toward her and knocked her out of the path of the car, the two of them landing on the damp ground as the man skidded off into the night.

"Did you hit your head?" Bill asked desperately, easing his weight off of her body. She was shaking.

"Did you get his license plate?" asked Laura urgently, completely ignoring his question.

"Did I get his…no, I didn't." Bill peered at her with an incredulous expression. "Are you all right?" he asked again, more gruffly this time.

"I'm fine," she snapped. Bill helped Laura up and saw her wince as she stood.

"You don't look fine," he exploded. "What the frak were you thinking? He could have killed you." Bill's dark blue eyes were wide with frustration and concern as he helped her stand. She began limping stubbornly toward the restaurant.

"Lean on me," Bill demanded, easily catching up with her and slipping an arm around her waist. Laura complied but Bill suspected that it was only out of necessity. She was the most infuriating, exasperating, and completely incomprehensible woman that he had ever met.

They entered the restaurant lobby and Bill pointed to a chair. "Sit," he ordered. Laura opened her mouth to protest but Bill stopped her.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Madame Secretary. If you don't tell me right now what hurts, I will simply call the rescue and let the paramedics deal with you."

"I twisted my ankle," Laura said with pointedly false sweetness. Bill grabbed another chair and slid it in front of Laura. "Your right one?" He could already see the swelling.

"Yes, but it's already feeling better." Bill touched her ankle very gingerly. "Does that hurt?" he asked with a disarming softness that utterly surprised her.

"No."

"It's probably just a sprain," Bill told her as he lifted her ankle and gently placed her foot on the other chair. His hands were warm. "We'll get some ice on it and you'll keep it elevated for a bit and then we'll see how you do. Are you amenable to that?"

"Yes," sighed Laura impatiently. "Do I have a choice?"

Bill smiled at her. "Not really. I'm going to get you some ice. Stay put." He was about to step away to retrieve the ice but he stopped for a moment. "I really am very sorry about ruining your dress," he apologized.

"Well," said Laura, "considering the fact that you might have just saved my life, I suppose I can overlook it." A fragile wisp of a smile played about the corners of her mouth.

"I'll be right back."

Bill hoped that the momentary truce would last – at least long enough for him to figure out what to make of Laura Roslin.