Lifelines: Kate's Story (37 page)

“I’m
sorry.” He pushed papers into her hands. “You need to read these.”

“What—?”

“This
is our separation agreement. I thought we could go through it here, today.”

John
touched her shoulder. “Rachel and Mac, let’s sit down.”

She
snarled, “You stay out of this!”

“Rachel,
Mac’s just made a statement. This is an excellent opportunity to use the
speaker-listener technique we’ve worked on. Why don’t we all sit, and we’ll
take this one piece at a time. Mac’s had his turn, now it’s your turn to
paraphrase what you heard him say.”

Richard
said, “That’s a good idea,” and she wanted to pound him. How could he be so
cruel?

“Rachel,”
said John. 

She
grabbed Richard’s checked shirt. “It’s because of the baby, isn’t it?” She made
tears again, because he would want tears when she thought of the baby. “I
wanted the baby, darling. I hoped ... I wanted us to try again. Another baby.”

“It’s
not the baby.”

John
said, “Rachel. Mac. You need to slow down here, to understand each other fully.
This is important. You’ve each said important things. You need to hear each
other.”

“Of
course it’s the baby. If you hadn’t sneaked through my mail, nothing would have
changed. Everything would be fine.”

“Rachel,
it
was
about the baby, but not now. I should never have married you. I
wanted a family, that’s not enough reason to marry. I was wrong, and I take
responsibility for what’s happened.”

“What
the fuck to you mean, what’s happened?”

John
hovered between them like a bloody moth. Rachel tried to shove him away.

Richard
said, “I’m not in love with you. I’ve seen a lawyer. I’ve started divorce
proceedings.”

“That’s
bullshit.” But his face— “You’re the original man of honor, there’s no way
you’d walk out on your wife. There’s no way you’d divorce me!”

“I’d
prefer us to part friends.”

“You
asshole! You fucking asshole!”

Richard
stepped back and she grabbed John. “Why the fuck don’t you do something? You’re
supposed to stop this! You’re supposed to fix our marriage.”

John
freed himself and put his desk between them. “My job is to help you get in
touch with your feelings about the relationship, and about each other. To help
you express those feelings, and hear each other.”

“That’s
bullshit.”

“It’s
time for you to listen to what Richard—what Mac has to say. You’ve been in
therapy several weeks now, and you’ve expressed your concerns. However,
Rich—Mac hasn’t spoken much. No relationship can grow when one person does the
talking and the other hides his feelings. Now that Richard is sharing his
feelings, you need to listen.”

“The
two of you got together and planned how to manipulate me. You phoned John, didn’t
you, Richard? You told him to gang up on me, so I’d sign those fucking papers!”

“You
know John doesn’t talk to either of us alone.”

“Oh,
yeah? What the fuck was he doing when you came in? Wasn’t I in that fucking
chair, alone with him? He told me all about your phone call! He told me—”

John
said, “Rachel, I won’t allow my clients to make false accusations against me.”

“Fuck
off, asshole.”

“Rachel!”
snapped Richard.

“You,
too! Fucking high and mighty bastard, and all the time you planned to abandon
me—your wife! I’ve got news for you, Richard God-damned-McGregor. It’s my body,
my baby, and it’s not the only time I threw out one of your fucking kids! You
expect me to cook your meals and slave to get an education, and you whine about
fucking responsibilities, and then you want out!”

She
knew she’d gone too far, and she stood, panting, calculating what to say now.
Richard looked shocked, revolted. “I didn’t mean it. I ... you hurt me so much,
and I...” This wasn’t working, she could tell from his eyes. “You’re away so
much, and I—you know how frightened I get, and I thought, I thought you were—”
Here she managed a very authentic sob. “—were—that there was an—another woman.”

His
eyes widened and she knew that if she could convince him to blame everything on
her jealousy of another woman, he would forgive her.

“Richard
... the first time you left, I couldn’t believe ... I knew you’d never leave your
wife, but then ... then I thought, what if there’s another woman? I knew it
couldn’t be your fault, but if she made you—I can understand how—I’d forgive
you, Richard. If something happened—”

“I
do have someone else.”

She
was so shocked she sank back down on her heels.

K
ate felt
high on incredible sex, as if she were thirty years old again. Despite the fact
she hadn’t had more than a couple of hours sleep, energy hummed through her
veins as she listened to Maggie Spender worry about her son’s new girlfriend.
She couldn’t let herself think about Mac during her appointments, at least not
directly, but she felt different.

Between
clients, her mind replayed last night. Her awareness had transformed the ritual
of making the bed with Mac into erotic foreplay. Afterwards, he’d said, stay,
and they’d burrowed under the blankets to drift asleep with his hand on her
breast.

I
love the way he makes love.

Mac
coming out of the shower, his body clothed in a damp towel. My turn, she’d
said, and pushed him down on the bed. Laughter, then breathlessness.
Afterwards, the sound of a truck. Denny, he said, and they pulled on clothes
hurriedly like a couple of teenagers.

Tonight,
he said.

Yes,
she promised.

The
look on Denny’s face as they passed in the doorway. He must know Mac’s wife, but
he would have to accept that lives changed and people adjusted, so she smiled
and asked, “How’s that wonderful baby of yours?”

He
couldn’t frown while he talked about his baby.

Today
was the sort of day when life had no choice but to smooth out in front of her.
Even Socrates looked benevolent when she let him out for his morning pee, and
when Kate called Jennifer this morning, her daughter had sounded busy, not
depressed.

“I’ve
got my resume ready. I’m just heading off to get copies made.”

“How
are you?”

“I
woke up feeling—not good, exactly, but sane. I’ve been out of my mind for
months. I don’t know how I got so obsessed with him. I can’t actually feel that
emotion today. All I see is a guy screwing around on his wife. When I met her,
she was nice. I just hope she gets better.”

When
they said goodbye, Kate gave Jennifer Mac’s cell phone number, in case she was
out when Jen called. Later, over lunch, she told Sarah, “Jennifer came home
Sunday night. She’s been having an affair with a married man; his wife tried to
commit suicide.”

“Shit.”

“Exactly.”
Kate brushed crumbs off her slacks. “Jen told the wife about the affair.”

“Poor
kid. No wonder she ran home. How’s she doing? How’s the wife?”

“The
wife’s in a coma. Jennifer went to the hospital, trying to make amends.”

“Whether
or not it helps the wife, it will help Jennifer. She’ll be all right.”

“I
hope so. Let’s pray the wife recovers.”

They
both understood the scars left by guilt over a death, but Sarah didn’t know
Jennifer had additional reason for feeling guilty. Kate had told Sarah more
than her daughter would want, but she hadn’t said a word about the pretense of
pregnancy.

Sarah
took a bite of her sandwich. “You look cheerful for a woman who spent the
weekend putting out fires. Are you going to tell me about him?”

A
bird flew into the window and skittered off at an angle.

Kate
said, “How did you know?”

“You’re
wearing lipstick, new ear rings, and you’ve got a man-glow about you. Does he
have a name?”

“Jacob
Richard McGregor. He calls himself Mac. He’s a contractor, and I’ve been
helping out weekends. Hammered a few nails, you know the sort of thing.”

“An
unusual way to chase a man.”

“I
didn’t see it coming. The sex, I mean. I felt guilty.”

“David.”

“Yeah.” 
She put the sandwich down. “I redecorated this weekend. Took David’s books out
of his office, put my clay in there. Jennifer was horrified.”

“You
can’t keep a shrine for your daughter’s comfort.” Sarah considered her
carefully. “You look great.”

Unexpectedly
embarrassed, Kate sorted through her unopened mail. “Do I call him my
boyfriend? My lover?”

“Why
not call him Mac?”

“Good
idea.” She saw a familiar icon on one of the envelopes. “Great North Insurance.
I’ve been harassing them, trying to get my dad’s address.” She slit open the
envelope with her letter opener, her eyes racing through the contents.

“What
is it?”

“He’s
on a lighthouse in British Columbia.”

“Take
a deep breath. You’re shaking.”

“I’m—”
She dropped the letter on her desk. “They sent me his address. Should I write?
Should I go see him? He probably wouldn’t even recognize me. I need to think
how to do this.”

“Best
‘twere done quickly,’” quoted Sarah. “Hamlet, I believe.” The intercom buzzed
and she said, “One of my clients scheduled a showdown with her
fourteen-year-old son today. If she’s calling, it didn’t go well.”

Kate
picked up the receiver and Grace said, “Rachel Hardesty on line one.”

“Thanks,
Grace. I’ll talk to her.”

“Not
me, then.” Sarah kissed Kate’s cheek lightly. “If you want to talk about your
dad, or anything else, you know where to find me.”

When
the door closed behind Sarah, Kate picked up line one. “Hello, Rachel. What can
I do for you?”

Rachel’s
breath announced her distress, then her voice followed, sharp and tight.

“He’s
with another woman,” she said, panting.

“Take
a deep breath, Rachel, and tell me what you’re feeling right now.”

“What
the fuck do you think I’m feeling?”

Kate
closed her eyes. It would have been easier with Rachel here, where Kate could
use body language to affect Rachel’s responses. “You sound angry.”

“Of
course I’m angry. He’s made a fool of me. All the time I worked my ass off to
be a good wife, and he’s been with her, laughing.”

“Rachel,
I doubt he laughed—”

“Of
course he did. I can hear them talking about me, the two of them. Guess what
Rachel did today. She—”

“Rachel!”

Silence.

“Rachel,
why don’t you come into the office at five o’clock. We can talk.”

“I
don’t want to come in at five o’God-damned-clock. Didn’t you hear? Do you
understand what he’s done to me? The bastard deserves to burn!”

“Rachel,
what is it you want from this phone conversation?”

“You’re
a fucking counselor. I want you to help me!”

“I
can’t make your husband love you.”

“You
bitch! Richard has always loved me. Always!”

Slippery
conversation disconnected from reality, but Rachel had reached out for help.
Remember your last session, Kate. She lost her father, saw him die in the fire.

“Rachel,
I can talk to you for ten minutes, then I need to leave for my one o’clock
appointment.” Rachel had manipulated her, she realized. Rachel wanted to do
this on the phone, not in her office, and Kate let her have her way. “Since we
have only ten minutes, we’ll need to focus. I hear you say your husband’s
involved with another woman, and you’re upset about it.”

“Wouldn’t
you be upset?”

Adultery,
thought Kate, everywhere.

“Are
you and your husband still in counseling?”

“Counseling?
That’s a joke. That asshole John! The two of them got together and set me up,
plotted behind my back.”

“Rachel,
we’ve got eight minutes left. Don’t waste them with accusations against your
relationship counselor.”

“Richard
had papers. John’s supposed to help us get back together, and he says I should
read the papers! A fucking separation agreement! He always takes Richard’s
side, calls him Mac, not Richard. I told John I hate it, and he doesn’t listen.
So now Richard’s screwing some bimbo and he’s started divorce proceedings, and
what the fuck am I going to do?”

Mac
... Richard. Oh, God, no.

“You’ve
got to tell me what to do! Tell me how to get him back. Tell me!”

Rachel
trashed Mac’s room. Kate’s client.

I’m
having sex with my client’s husband. Oh, my God. Oh, my God, what do I—I’ve got
to think.

“Kate?
Are you there?”

How
did I get myself into this incredible mess? Rachel ... Mac—I need to talk to
somebody, fast.

Rachel’s
voice was saying, “...mother died of pneumonia when I was so little, and I have
terrible nightmares about my father’s death. Everybody dies, and if Richard
leaves me, he may as well be dead, too. Kate, he will change his mind, won’t
he? You’ll help him change his mind, won’t you?”

I
need Sarah. I’ve got myself in deep shit. Sarah...

Am
I really that open about something I’ve really screwed up about? I can’t tell
Sarah, can I?

“He
won’t change his mind now,” said Rachel.

The
lump in Kate’s throat wouldn’t go down.

“Kate,
say something.” Rachel’s breath grated over the telephone lines. “Help me.
Isn’t that what you’re here for?”

“Rachel...”
There were no words. “Our time’s up, Rachel. I’ll have to go now.”

Oh,
shit. I need to think. I need help. She couldn’t believe she’d just hung up on
a client without giving her anything. Any decent therapist would give Rachel
something to hang onto before she ended the conversation. I’ll be here when
you’re ready to come in and talk. Just phone and make an appointment.

Oh,
God, Mac.

What
if she’d heard wrong? Could Rachel have said a name that
sounded
like
Mac, but wasn’t?
Almost no one calls me Richard...