Authors: Barbara Delinsky
"She deserves more." He hesitated, looked torn, finally said, "J.D. wasn't always faithful to her, Annie. It was never anything prolonged, and I never learned about it until after the fact. We'd be at a law association breakfast and a lawyer who had always been pleasant before would go out of her way to avoid us. J.D. would make a comment about the trouble women have with mornings after."
Annie was appalled. "Are you serious?"
He nodded.
"You never told me that before!"
"What good would it have done?"
Not much, she supposed. But she was stunned. "What did you say when he told you things like that?"
"I told him it was wrong. I said it wasn't fair to Teke. What else could I do? I couldn't very well tell her about it, and I knew that if I told you, you'd think less of him. I thought less of him. Still, he was my best friend." He grew thoughtful. "Funny how one indiscretion on my part evoked such scorn from him." He held up a hand. "I know, I know. My indiscretion was with his wife. Still, if you want to generalize, what I did wasn't any worse than what he's done more than once. Not that I'm trying to excuse it. Nothing does that. Cheating is cheating, and it's wrong. But I'm saying that if J.D. gives up on his marriage so quickly and easily, Teke has a right to see an old friend, and if he makes her happy, I'm all for it."
"Would you do that?" Annie asked.
"What?"
"If I said that I wanted a divorce, would you get together with Teke?" It would be easy for him to do. They knew each other so well. So well.
His face lost color. "Do you want a divorce?"
"It's a hypothetical question. The issue is Teke." He seemed not to hear. "I don't want a divorce, Annie. I've told you over and over again. I love you. I want to work things out."
"If I gave up on you, would you go to Teke?"
He made a face. "God, no. What would I want Teke for?" His distaste was real, giving Annie a marginal sense of relief. Still, she could think of dozens of things Sam might want Teke for. "Home cooking. Clean laundry. Familiarity. Sex."
"Teke is a good friend, but she doesn't turn me on, and as for the rest, I'd hire someone before I went to Teke."
"Dr. Pope?"
She looked up. "Hi, Georgia. Jason." To Sam she said, "You met Jason at a party last year. Jason Faust. And this is Georgia Nichols. She's a first-year TA." To the two, and with a deep inner satisfaction where Jason was concerned, she said, "My husband, Sam." Sam stood and extended a hand first to Georgia, then to Jason.
"I'm sorry for bothering you," Georgia said, returning to Annie, "but I'm supposed to meet with you at three, and I can't make it. Can I reschedule for tomorrow morning?"
Annie took an appointment book from her pocketbook. "Tomorrow morning's tight. I couldn't do it much before noon."
"Noon is fine with me."
Annie wrote it in. Closing the book, she studied Jason. "You look peaked. Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fine. Just giving Georgia moral support. All set, babe?" he asked Georgia, who nodded and waved her thanks to Annie as the two moved off.
Annie watched them go. Jason walked and talked fine, still ...
"What?" Sam prodded.
"Jason doesn't look right."
"He normally looks better than that?" When Annie turned to him, he said, "He's a great-looking guy, whether you say he's peaked or not. Is he gay?"
"No, he's not gay."
"How do you know?"
"I know." Oh, yes.
"How?"
"Because the grapevine says he isn't," she prevaricated, "and the grapevine doesn't lie." She checked her watch. Time was running out. Fork in hand, she began to eat in earnest.
"If I was the suspicious sort," Sam said, "I'd be jealous. Your Jason is not only great-looking, he's young. Some women have a thing for young flesh."
"Some men, too," Annie replied.
"Have you never been tempted?"
She fought the urge to squirm. "I'm married."
"That doesn't mean you haven't been tempted." She continued to eat for a minute before setting down her fork, folding her hands in her lap, and raising her chin. "Prior to October sixth, I had a husband who satisfied me in every respect, including the sexual. He had an endless hunger. He kept me sated so that I couldn't begin to think of other men. Then his hunger got out of hand. Unfortunate things happened. We're still trying to recover."
Sam whispered, "Give me three hours in the nearest motel and we'd move a long way toward that recovery."
She felt a fris son of something warm tickle the base of her spine, and she ignored it. "I'm not talking about sex, I'm talking about trust. Besides, I keep picturing you with Teke. I couldn't bear it if we were together and she was there, too."
"She wouldn't be," he whispered more urgently.
"I'd make sure you couldn't think of anyone but me." But she shook her head. "It's no good. The images are too strong."
"What if we went away? Just the two of us, somewhere we've never been. Would the images follow?"
"I don't know."
"Let's try it."
"With everything else that's happening?" she asked, feeling sadness, frustration, and fatigue. "I can't, Sam. The kids are having a horrendous time trying to cope with the changes in our lives, and so am I. There are times when I'm awake in the middle of the night shaking with fear thinking about basic things to do with running a household that most women do with their eyes closed."
Sam looked dismayed. "Why didn't you say something?"
"Because it's humiliating. Here I've been walking around feeling so good about myself, feeling superior in my way because I have my Ph.D. and tenure and a family. Well, looking the other in the face now, I'm in awe of the women who do it." She sagged from the inside out, thinking how poorly she shaped up. "I want to do everything well, but I don't know if I can, because there's so much to do. I swear, I've cooked dinner more nights in the past month than I have in the past three years, and I'm not complaining, I choose to do it, but it's more work on top of everything else."
"You should have complained," Sam argued. "We can eat out more."
"No, we can't, because everyone comes home at different times, and then the kids have homework, or they're on the phone, or Jon's rushing to finish at home so he can run over to Leigh's. Trying to corral them for an hour to go to a restaurant would be a nightmare. My cooking dinner is the path of least
resistance. Same thing with Thanksgiving. Sure, we can make reservations somewhere, but it isn't the same. I want to have Thanksgiving dinner at our house. I think it's crucial that we do it for the kids' sakes. But do you know how intimidating the prospect is?
Thanksgiving is a soup-to-nuts extravaganza. Taking shortcuts would be defeating the purpose, so that means poring through cookbooks, planning a menu, making things ahead of time and freezing them. We're talking a major meal, and that's not counting fresh flowers and candles and munchies."
"I'll help," Sam said.
The offer won him a tiny smile. "We'd be the blind leading the blind."
"So? I'm game."
"Sam, you can't cook."
"Maybe it's time I learned."
"When? You don't have any more time to browse in the cookbook section of the bookstore than I do."
"I'll make time."
"John Stewart would just love that."
"Fuck John Stewart," he said, scowling. "I'm a full partner in the firm. I'll work when I want."
Annie looked at him in amusement, amazement, affection. She couldn't help it. Until she glanced at her watch. "You may be able to do that, but I can't." She slipped her arms into the sleeves of her coat. "If I don't leave now, I'll miss my class." She hitched her chin toward his half-eaten burger. "You stay here and finish." But Sam slipped into his own coat, grabbed a handful of napkins, the burger, and her hand. Then, as he had done when they had been young and innocent and so very idealistic, he walked her to class. Against her better judgment, she was snowed.
twelve
TiKE
waist-high water, his physical therapist on the other. While they held him afloat, they rhythmically manipulated an arm or a leg, bending it, rotating it, straightening it, ever gently, but ever more. The goals were flexibility and strength.
Michael was still recovering from the removal of the casts. Despite warnings to the contrary from the doctors, he had been hoping that the casted parts would emerge in perfect working order. Teke had been hoping it herself, she was that desperate for a miracle. But it wasn't to be, which caused another emotional slide.
"How's that feel?" the therapist asked him.
"Dumb," was Michael's muttered response. "If my friends saw me doing this, they'd laugh. I feel like a baby."
"It'd be easier if you were," the therapist remarked. He was a gentle giant with a dry wit that had boosted Teke's spirits more than once. Now he said, "Babies are eager to learn things. They try and try, over and over again. When they fall, no sweat, they get up. They don't know about embarrassment.
Big people do. They get hung up with their image. They don't like the idea that they have to learn at all. Their attitude holds them back. What they don't realize is that with a big people mind and the right attitude, they can learn twice as fast, with half the falls." He paused. "So, what' Il it be, big people? Want to get dried off and hit the machines for a while?"
Since the machines demanded more from Michael than the pool, the pep talk was well timed. Michael grunted, to which the therapist responded by easing him to the stairs, carrying him up, and setting him into a wheelchair.
"I'll see you guys soon," Teke said, and headed for the women's locker room. Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed, she returned to Michael's room. She had barely settled onto the easy chair there when Grady walked in carrying a large bag with twin arches.
"Lunch," he said with a glance at the empty bed. "Not back yet?"
"It'll be another little while," Teke said, but she didn't move. She had been on the go since five that morning, when she had bolted out of bed to whip up a double batch of cookies, and that had been just for starters. Now, half a hectic day later, she was too exhausted to be annoyed with herself for not telling Grady that he shouldn't have come.
"They're working with the machines. Since I can't help there, I thought I'd take a rest."
Grady reached into the bag, unlidded a cup of coffee, and passed it to her.
Her tired mouth slipped into a smile. "Thanks. I need this."
"Need lunch, too?"
"In a bit." She settled more deeply in the chair, tired enough to welcome the cushions, the coffee, and, yes, Grady. He was a friend--more than that, if
she thought of the past. But even in the present, he was distinguishing himself. He was kind, he was caring, he was there. She was having trouble sustaining anger toward him.
Indeed, she was still married to J.D." still thinking that for the children's sake, they might reconcile, and in that sense Grady's presence was a risk. But she couldn't send him away.
"What're you thinking?" he asked.
She sighed. "I'm thinking that you really shouldn't be here, but that the company's nice. Back at the hospital, people used to drop by more. They've gone back to their own lives now."
"You must have lots of friends."
She raised the cup and savored the aroma of the coffee. "I'm active around town. I know 'most everyone." She took a sip. The warmth was heavenly going down after a swim and a shower. "There are some very nice people in Constance. And some very conservative ones. They always thought I was a little kooky." She arched a brow. "Wonder what they think now." She took another sip.
"Mrs. Hart likes you."
Cornelia Hart wasn't quite the gossip some of the others were. She probably hadn't heard about Teke's faux pas with Sam. "She's a sweetie. Is she being kind to you?"
"Very. She said it was too cold for me to live in the carriage house. She made me move into her basement."
"Wasn't she brave," Teke teased, though she was relieved to know that Grady would be warm. He had finished putting a new roof on the carriage house and was re shingling the outer walls. He hadn't gotten around to insulation or heat.
Grady grinned. "Gave the cops a scare all right. They saw me coming out of the house one too many
times. They thought I was robbing the place."
Teke closed her eyes. "Thank you, John David."
"Actually, it's gratifying when they think they've caught me and then find that they haven't. One of the guys is okay. The other is into intimidation. He's the one who gets mean when he goes away empty handed."
"That would be Connors," Teke said. "His son was on Michael's Little League team for a while. He's the first one to say that the coach stinks and the last one to volunteer to coach himself. Let me know if he touches you. Sam will remind him of your civil rights. He's big on those."
"Sam sounds like a decent guy."
"He is."
"Would he really speak up for me at the same time that his partner is speaking against me?"
"Sam doesn't blame you for what happened. He knows that if Michael hadn't seen what he did, he wouldn't have run into the street that way." She tipped the coffee to her lips, but it wasn't much of a shield to hide behind. And anyway, hiding was pointless. Grady knew what she'd done. Everyone knew what she'd done.
"Do you love him?"
She blinked. "Sam? I love him like I love Annie. They're dear friends. I miss them both. They come to visit, but it isn't the same as it was. We were all so close." She thought of Sam's phone call several days before and had to smile. "Poor Sam." She could share this with Grady. "It suddenly occurred to him that I might be pregnant. He had quite a scare."
Grady looked none too calm just then either. "Are you?"
"Thank goodness, no. My carrying Sam's baby would have been one trauma too many. Not that I don't love babies. I loved being pregnant. I loved
having little ones around. I loved watching them grow." Memory took her back to when the children were small and their problems correspondingly simple. Then it went farther. Looking at Grady, seeing the spikes of dark hair that touched his forehead, reminded her of the teenager she had loved. She remembered the dreams they had shared of the children they were going to have. She guessed from the stricken look on his face that he was remembering, too.