Instant Attraction, Part 5
On The Line
By Miesque
miesque@looksmart.com

A follow up, I guess, to "How The Finch Stole Christmas".

Thanks again to Anonymous and Canada for suggestions and editing.



Luka hated Christmas.

Eh, he thought. No use turning into Ebenezer Scrooge.

But really, it was depressing. There was no one back home to call, except Davor, and he was still afraid to call his brother. His pride still got in the way.

He took double shifts, so that he would be able to work through the holiday and not find himself in his apartment, watching “It’s A Wonderful Life” and shooting rubber bands at Jimmy Stewart, as he had done last year. By the time Cleo Finch told him he looked like hell, he could certainly believe her. People kept yelling ‘Merry Christmas!’ at him, and that annoyed him to no end.

Kerry Weaver’s difficulties with the computers amused Luka a little. Apparently, Americans can’t live without computers, electronic calculators or cash registers. God forbid, Luka thought during his break (attempting to eat some Christmas cookies), that these people should be forced to apply basic mathematics to their day-to-day lives. He wondered if his co- workers could start a fire with flint or two sticks, go without food or water, or that they could defend themselves against an invading army. Not that he had done such a great job of coping with Vukovar. He laughed to himself suddenly. Chicago winters were awful. If a person could survive that, he figured they could survive anything. He recalled the mild winters in Atlanta, and wished he could figure out a way to import Georgia winters to Chicago.

Later, at the front desk, he found Kerry still fighting with the computers. He was so exhausted that he could scarcely keep his eyes open, but he did his best to cheer her up, seeing how tense she was about the Y2K thing. Computers hated Luka, so he never dared touch them. Peering at the screen, and noting the Sixth Sick Santa hovering nearby, he offered sleepy encouragement to her and gave her shoulder a knuckle-rub. Later, he realized it was the first time in a long time that he’d actually touched someone.



Kerry had to admit she had enjoyed her dinner at Doc Magoo’s with the Six Sick Santas-which had become a favorite tongue- twister among the nurses, to the point of the lounge sounding like it was occupied by several snakes-but driving home, she felt the loneliness of the holiday season hitting her again. Most people were at home with their families, surrounded by the people they loved. She would spend the day after Christmas trying to get vomit stains out of her clothes. Yeah, she thought. Happy Holidays.

She had no plans for Christmas. No family to visit or call. She had put up a Christmas tree, and she remembered Luka’s comments on the matter a few days before. He had helped her bring it in-a large, rather thinnish Douglas fir-and set it up for her in the living room. The story he’d told had actually made her laugh. “When I was a kid, we visited relatives in Germany for Christmas. They got this gigantic pine tree and put real candles on the boughs. Unfortunately, the tree wasn’t kept in water and it had gone very, very dry. Before we knew it, we were all running for our lives into the snowy streets of Hamburg. Luckily, only the tree went up in flames. My father and my cousins put it out in a matter of minutes. Made for a very exciting Christmas. And a slightly wet one, since there was water all over the place.”

Later, Kerry realized that that was the first time she’d seen Luka really laugh. Evidently, he had enjoyed a happy childhood.  Good for him, she thought. Lots of people aren’t that fortunate.

She had come, in the past few weeks, to appreciate Luka’s presence in her house, as well as his quiet humor. Not that he was around a great deal when she was at home. Ever since the blackout, and her realization that she was scheduling him for the same times she was at County, she made sure he was gone while she was at home. But she still felt his presence. And- even though this annoyed her feminist/independent nature a little-she felt safe when he was around. He had a soothing effect on everyone, even Kerry. Carter had commented on it, as had Jeannie Boulet. Malucci had also commented that he liked the ‘Towering Croatian’. “He’s cool,” Dave had said. “He actually listens.”

He did have ‘presence’, that was for sure. She had done everything in her power to ignore Luka at the front desk, when he was trying to calm her down about the computers. When he’d touched her arm like that, her heart gave a jump and it had taken all her power to avoid looking at him or showing any degree of reaction besides her initial irritation with Bill Gates, MicroSoft and whoever invented computers in the first place. To have him be even slightly tactile toward her...it had frightened her, especially when she heard that Luka had treated Carol’s daughter and then given her a ride home.

Carol.  Kerry felt worried about the whole situation. She hoped, for Luka’s sake, that the woman was being honest. It would be the decent thing, wouldn’t it, for Carol to see that Luka was showing interest and thus to explain herself and her situation? But Kerry hadn’t heard anything from the grapevine. The latest she’d heard was that Carol was still not in contact with Doug. And Kerry had noticed that Carol’s engagement ring was missing. In her worried mind, Kerry could easily put two and two together. And the result, Kerry was sure, would end in heartbreak for Luka. Carol-for whatever reason-belonged with Doug Ross. All she could do now was hope that Carol would tell Luka the truth before it was too late.

It was past midnight when Kerry finally went to bed. Luka didn’t come in, and Kerry felt a twinge of something between worry and...what? Jealousy? No, she told herself. Don’t be ridiculous.

She lay awake for a long time, listening for the sound of him coming through the front door downstairs. But there was no sound at all, and she finally gave up, feeling even more lonely and empty. Just put it out of your mind, she told herself before she fell asleep. It’s his life. He’s a big boy. He can handle it. Or...at least, I hope he can.



Luka offered Carol Hathaway a ride home, and found himself in her living room, staring down at her daughters, trying to hold back his tears: to not show his exhaustion. He figured he deserved an Academy Award for his performance then-acting cheerful and upbeat toward her while feeling miserable. He had only wanted to go home, crawl into his bed, take a couple of sleeping pills, and be unconscious until New Year’s. Thank God for rum-laced egg nog.

Still, he had liked being around Carol. She was kind to him, and he needed a bit of kindness lately. He wasn’t sure how to talk about his past, and for now he was avoiding it in favor of discussing babies. He loved holding the twins-loved the baby smell of them. It brought back memories of happier times. It was a lot better than being alone on Christmas, shooting rubber bands at a TV and feeling despondent. Carol had saved him from yet another depressing Christmas, and he was thankful for that. But he was still wary, watching for signals. He wasn’t familiar with American courtship rituals. Hell, he hadn’t been on a date in fifteen years, and prior to his marriage he had only dated Tatjana.

Conversation came to a halt very soon. Both Carol and Luka were too sleepy to chat. She thanked him for the ride home and all his help with the babies, then said goodnight. “You can sleep on the couch if you like,” she said, and laughed. “I don’t think you should be driving in your condition anyway. Sleepy or drunk, or both...you don’t belong on the road!”

She was right. One glass of the eggnog was enough for Luka to know he’d better not try to drive. He wasn’t a drinker by any means, so he found himself a little off-balance from just that little bit of rum. So he sat alone, staring up at the ceiling fan, getting dizzy from watching it spin.

It was actually funny, when he thought about it later. He got back home somehow, and then realized he’d driven all the way to the house in first gear. Laughing to himself, he stumbled downstairs and into his room, forgetting to glance at the Christmas tree in Kerry’s living room. She had decorated it with shiny glass balls and white lights. He chuckled, remembering how angry she had been about the lights not working properly-finally wadding up the whole string and throwing it in a corner, growling in frustration. It had taken only a few minutes of Luka tracking down a loose bulb and soon they were all working. The look on Kerry’s face then had been priceless, and he hadn’t been able to quit laughing as he told her about his childhood Christmases.

He remembered the arguments he and Tatjana had gotten into over Christmas lights, and now, those memories were flooding around him again. Now, all he could think about was home.

For a moment, he sat, staring at the telephone, glad he was still a little foggy in the head. Finally, at about six o’clock, he picked up the receiver, spent ten minutes trying to remember the country code for Croatia, then dialed.

“Yes. I’m looking for a Davor Kovac, in Split,” he said, yawning.

“There are three Davor Kovacs in Split,” the woman said.

“Really?” That surprised Luka. “Okay. Dial each of them.”

“All right. Here’s the first one.”

A little girl answered the phone. Immediately, she sought her mother’s advice, and Luka found himself being shouted at by an irate woman who’d been dragged out of her post-Christmas dinner bath to talk to a perfect stranger. “Wow...” he said to the operator. “People sure are mean when they’re wet.”

The next Davor Kovac didn’t answer.

The third and last try was the right one. Luka recognized the voice immediately, even after nine years. He paused for a moment, and Davor spoke again.

“Hello?”

“Davor...it’s Luka.”

Another long silence. Luka half expected his brother to hang up on him, but instead he heard his brother’s voice again. “Luka... where are you?”

“Chicago.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m...I’m all right. I’m okay.”

Another long, uncomfortable silence. Luka cleared his throat. “Did your nose heal?”

Davor burst into laughter. “Well, you always knew how to cut through the crap, didn’t you, Luka?”

Luka found himself laughing, too. Davor was the exact opposite of his younger brother. He was outgoing, extroverted, fun- loving. Luka had been born about forty-five years old.

“How...how are you doing?” Luka asked nervously.

“I’m okay. Still single. Law practice is doing really well. Things are looking up here in Croatia...things are getting better.”

“Despite the growing number of lawyers?” Luka asked smartly.

Davor guffawed. “Well, if there had been a third Kovac son, he would have been a priest. We can use some good priests around here, too. And besides, I’m a prosecutor.”

“Well, Majka would be proud.”

Another silence. Then Davor cleared his throat. “I’ve been trying to track you down for a long time, Luka. You kept moving around. First New York, then Atlanta, and then you just...vanished.”

“I’ve settled here in Chicago...permanently, I guess.”

“How’s cousin Herb?”

“Still selling cars,” Luka muttered. “Sold me an old Saab.”

Davor burst into laughter. “Did it break down?”

“Yes,” Luka grouched. “But I got it fixed. It gets me where I’m going...most of the time.”

“Are you doing all right, Luka? Are you...I mean...uh...are you seeing anyone yet? Dating?”

“No. Are you?” Luka attempted to duck the question, but Davor tended to latch on to things and not let go.

“Not one date?  After nine years?”

“Listen, I don’t want to discuss that, Davor...” Luka said tiredly. “That’s not why I called. I just...I needed to hear a familiar voice on Christmas Day.”

Davor was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, Luka.”

Tears came to Luka’s eyes, and he held the phone to his chest for a moment, taking a deep breath. Just do it, he told himself. “I’m sorry, too, Davor. I’m sorry I hit you...”

“Don’t apologize. You were upset. You were...”

“I am.” Luka interjected.

“...a mess.” Another brief pause, and Davor carefully asked, “You’re still having trouble? You’re not getting treated or anything?”

“Davor...please.  I...anything but that. We’ll talk about the other stuff later. Just...not today. Not on Christmas.”

“All right.  Tell me about Chicago...do you like it there?”

Luka could still hear the concern in his brother’s voice. Davor was two years Luka’s senior, and had been protective toward him when they were children. But Luka had always been the sort to fend for himself. In fact, Davor was one of the few people around who knew of Luka’s ruthless streak, his fierce will to survive, and his ability to fight dirty. Luka Kovac was no shrinking violet. Davor had a slightly crooked nose to prove that.

The years simply fell away then, and the two brothers talked for almost two hours. There were still subjects that were left untouched, but when they said their good-byes, Luka felt better. The pain of loneliness wasn’t quite so acute, and after reluctantly saying goodbye to his brother, he fell asleep, exhausted, and had no dreams...no nightmares. Just quiet.



Luka worked double shifts all through the week, right up until New Years’ Eve. He was getting off at six in the morning, and at about eleven thirty he was at the front desk, watching Dick Clark blither about some horrible all-boy band. When the group started singing, Luka wished he had some other place to go, but it was too cold on the roof.

Randi grabbed the remote control and put the TV on ‘mute’. “Thank you,” Luka muttered, and she grinned.

“Never understood teenaged girls and ‘boy bands’,” Randi said.

“Weren’t you a teenaged girl once?” he asked her, yawning.

“Yeah.  But I liked Kiss, ZZ Top...”

He grinned. “Queen for me, thanks. And the Stones and the Beatles...”

“Queen!?” Randi burst into laughter. “For some reason, you don’t strike me as a Queen man.”

“For some reason, you strike me as a Kiss woman,” Luka answered, and she grinned back.

“Well, at midnight I’m available. Last year, I didn’t get kissed at midnight and I didn’t get lucky until...the Orange Bowl, I think.”

Luka suddenly understood what she meant, but managed a nervous smile. “I meant the band...” he said.

Randi grinned. “I didn’t.”



The clock struck midnight, and to everyone’s relief, the computers didn’t explode. Luka did all he could to avoid being kissed by anyone, but it was inevitable. At the stroke of midnight, he found himself at the front desk, and before he could do anything about it, Randi stood on her toes and kissed him. He found himself responding to her touch, suddenly craving some kind of contact, and after a few moments, he pulled away, bewildered. She just grinned at him.

The nurses all glared enviously at Randi, who just smiled and went back to answering phones. She liked Luka a lot, but he wasn’t really her type. But she had a feeling that he needed to make contact with another human. She had zeroed in on him for the New Year’s kiss, figuring a guy that gorgeous and nice could use a good kiss. She had made sure not to let it go too long, or get too hot, but it had been nice. At least now it was confirmed to everyone watching-Luka Kovac was a good kisser.

Luka was glad he didn’t blush easily-he would have been bright red now. Instead, he backed away, mumbling “Happy New Year” and then suddenly smiled at her, wordlessly nodding his thanks, then headed into the lounge for coffee.

He looked out the window for a long time, watching the snow fall. Strange, but he did feel much calmer. He wasn’t drawn to Randi in that way, but he was actually glad she’d kissed him. A man can only go so long without being touched by a woman. Wasn’t it true that people needed physical contact with others just for basic survival? He had read several articles on the fact that merely touching someone can calm them down, and he supposed they were right. He did feel relaxed now.

“Well, hell, I’m not a machine.” he told himself out loud.

Kerry had come in just then, and overheard him. “What?”

Luka jumped and turned around. “Oh...nothing.  Happy New Year, Kerry.”

She only smiled. She had overheard the nurses talking about Randi kissing Luka. It didn’t bother her. But for some reason, Kerry knew that she would have been upset if Carol had done the kissing instead. Maybe, having been kissed by Randi, Luka was taking a first step toward some kind of recovery.  But Kerry decided she shouldn’t jump to conclusions. She didn’t know, yet, of what Luka had gone through personally at Vukovar and in Croatia.

“How do they celebrate New Year’s in Croatia?” she asked him as she pulled her coat on. She avoided looking at him, keeping her gaze fixed on the bulletin board.

“Excessive drinking, dancing, followed by vomiting, nausea, alcoholic tremors...” Luka answered tiredly. “Not much difference here in America.”

She actually laughed, and turned back to look at him...briefly. “I take it you’re not a big drinker, Luka.”

“No. I’m not. Sometimes I’ll throw back a vodka or some wine, but...no. I don’t like being drunk. It’s a waste of time.”

She nodded. “True. It usually is. Makes you do stupid things.”

He gave no response. Instead, he turned back to look out the window. Kerry sighed and wished she was drunk, because then she’d have an excuse to kiss him. No harm done, no damage to report. She could just claim she wasn’t in her right mind and she didn’t know what she was doing. But that would be foolish. It might hurt him somehow, and she didn’t want to hurt him.

Hell, that was the first time she consciously admitted to not wanting to hurt someone. Not that she sought to hurt them, but with other people, she didn’t really care if they were hurt or not. They could live with it. People live with pain all the time, but they suck it up and move on-that had been her firm policy up until very recently. But Luka...well, his situation was different. He was different-his life and his circumstances were far beyond anything she had seen before. There was, she knew, a fragility about him. She had seen that during the blackout a few days before. He had been frightened and upset by the situation, and Kerry had felt terrible for him, and wanted to help. But she didn’t know how to help without coming across as patronizing. She didn’t want to see him get hurt.

From what she could tell about him, he had been hurt enough. But she was afraid to ovestep the boundaries and ask him what had happened.  She didn’t feel she had a right to pry.

“Well...” she said, heading toward the door. “Happy New Year, Luka. I hope it’s a good year for you...”

“Thanks,” he nodded, and watched her leave. Why would this year be any better than the previous nine? he asked himself.

He drank down his coffee, straightened his tie, wiped his mouth, removing the taste of Randi’s kiss, and went back out to work.

To be continued...