Having Faith (14 page)

Faith let out a soft breath. "Laura will be relieved. She'll also be furious. Why didn't he tell her where he was going?"

"He didn't know where he was going until he got there. He's pretty upset about all this. Wasn't sure Laura would give a damn."

"Of course, she gives a damn. They've been married for twenty-four years."

"Apparently she's been cursing that fact in no uncertain terms all week."

"He's been in her hair all week."

"So he figured he'd give her a break. He needed one, too."

"Maybe Tim will be a calming force."

Sawyer would have liked that, but the brief time he'd spent talking with Tim on the phone wasn't reassuring.

"I ... wouldn't count on it."

"Uh-oh," Faith said.

"What's Tim's gripe?"

"He got married last year. Laura doesn't like his wife. Doesn't think she's good enough. There are some hard feelings, I guess."

"You guess," Faith murmured. The Leindecker case, like many of the other divorces she'd handled, was beginning to sound like a soap opera. But she was being paid to consider each new plot twist.

"I

guess I'd better call Laura and tell her Bruce is all right. Did he say when he'll be home? "

"When I asked, he got a little annoyed. He said that he's too old to be reporting in, and anyway, she kicked him out. he says. I told him to remember that she was worried. Maybe you could tell her to bear with him."

"I think I can do that," Faith said and reflected on the discussion.

Laura swore that she wanted a divorce, which was why Faith had accepted a retainer. But there were times when Faith wondered. "Are we negotiating a divorce here, or mediating a marital squabble? I mean, I'm all for encouraging reconciliation, but I'm a lawyer, not a therapist."

"Mnun. It gets tedious sometimes."

"Do you ever want out?" she asked, thinking in broader terms.

"Lots of times. That's why divorce work is only a small part of my practice. What about you? You do it more often than me."

"I don't like the tedium either. But there's probably less of it in the cases I do. Mostly I represent women, and women are the underdogs in most divorce proceedings nowadays." "Is Laura Leindecker an underdog?"

"I'm... not quite sure. I'm not quite sure about lots of things relating to this case."

"Ditto," Sawyer said, but he was more interested in other things about which he wasn't quite sure.

"I'm heading down to the Cape first thing in the morning. Want to come?"

It was a minute before Faith adjusted to the shift in gears, and even then, the invitation had popped out so suddenly that she couldn't take it seriously.

"Uh, thanks. Sawyer, but I've got a million things to do tomorrow."

"Do them today."

"I'm working today."

"Tonight. Do your million things tonight. Come with me tomorrow." His voice was deep and earnest.

"You're serious," she said, realizing it just then.

"Of course, I'm serious. Did you doubt it?"

"I... yes. It seemed like such an unpremeditated suggestion."

"It was, but it's a good one. I want you to see the house."

Faith wanted to see it, too. She also wanted to spend time with Sawyer, who was nicer to be with than just about anyone she knew.

She'd have agreed to go in a minute--if it hadn't been for the Friday night before. Thanks to that night, something more than friendship existed between them. She'd spent far too much time thinking about that something than she cared to admit. It had haunted her--the flash of his large hand molding her breast, the wetness of his mouth on her belly, the piercing strength of him as he filled her from the inside out. The haunting made her weak in the knees, and weak in the knees translated into weak in resolve, and without resolve, she didn't trust herself.

"I don't know. Sawyer," she said so softly that her message came across loud and clear.

"Nothing has to happen," he assured her in a voice that was every bit as quiet, but far more sure.

"There's nothing remotely seductive or romantic about the place. It's old and broken-down. I'm re- shingling the roof. I work the whole time I'm there, and when I'm done working, I'm tired."

He was trying to paint an unappealing picture, she knew, but he failed. The image of Sawyer Bell on the roof doing physical labor was enticing.

"So if you're working all the time, what will I do?"

"Look around and decide whether you think I ought to torch the place."

"You can't torch it. Sawyer. Besides, my looking around won't take long. What do I do when I'm done with that?"

"Strip paint from the moldings around the fireplace."

"You'd put me to work?"

"If you're bored. It's good therapy. We agreed on that, remember?"

She remembered, but that didn't alter the fact that if she went to the Cape with him, they'd be together for an extended period of time. A body could only work so long. When it was done working, it could get into mischief.

"I don't know," she said again. This time her voice was softened by a blend of wistfulness and apprehension.

"You'll want to stay overnight."

Sawyer hesitated for just a minute.

"Yes." He knew what she was thinking. "Nothing has to happen, Faith. We can spend the day working, then go out to dinner and catch a movie or something."

"Where would we sleep?"

"Wherever you want."

"Where do you usually sleep?"

"In a sleeping bag on the floor. But that doesn't mean you have to do it. The floor is warped. It's worse than sleeping on bare ground. It's fine for me, but I wouldn't expect you to rough it that way."

"I'm not fragile."

"You're used to comfort."

"That doesn't mean I can't live without it for a night. I'm not made of fluff."

"But you're a woman."

"So?"

"So your body doesn't conform as well to the floor as mine does. You have curves, Faith. My body is straighter and harder than yours."

For the space of a breath. Faith didn't speak. Then she murmured, "That's what worries me," and it was Sawyer's turn to be silent.

Finally he said quietly, "I want to be with you this weekend, and it doesn't have to be a sexual thing. It can be purely platonic. We'll be friends like we've always been. We won't do anything you don't want to do."

"That's what worries me," she repeated, and Sawyer understood.

"You don't trust yourself?" He hoped it was true. It wasn't that he was a sadist, just that he'd been aroused and aching too often that week. He wanted to think Faith had been, too.

"I'm not sure. I keep thinking about last Friday night and asking why I didn't stop what was happening. I guess" -she rushed on before he could remind her of the wine they'd drunk "--I'm not convinced I was out of it. I remember too many things too clearly."

Sawyer had been asking himself similar questions all week, but he wasn't about to discuss them now. If he could get Faith away with him, they'd have plenty of time to talk.

"We won't have anything to drink this weekend. Nothing but coffee. Come with me. Faith. It'll be good for both of us."

"I don't want to make love."

"Then we won't."

"What if I ask for it?"

"Then we will."

"But I don't want to." She straightened in her chair.

"Okay, Sawyer, I'll go down to the Cape with you on one condition. You have to keep things under control. I'm telling you now that I don't want to make love. It's your responsibility to make sure we don't, regardless of what I say when we're down there."

"That's absurd."

"I won't be able to relax with you unless you agree."

Sawyer brushed at the moisture breaking out over his lip.

"That's just as absurd as the other. What if you find that you do want it? What if you're relaxed but making love will relax you even more? What if the pain of not making love is driving you crazy? What if you're begging me for it? Christ, Faith, I'm not a saint!"

"Then I won't go."

"I'll be a saint."

She had to smile at the speed of his turnaround. But before she could comment on it, he grumbled, "I wonder if this is what Leindecker's been going through all these years. A man thinks he's in control, then a woman gives him an ultimatum and he crumbles."

"Don't crumble. I'm counting on you to be strong.

That's your forte, Sawyer. You're a big, strong male. Much stronger than me--isn't that how the chauvinist credo reads? "

"Cute, Faith."

"But I'm serious, at least about your being strong. You are, and I'm trusting you." She paused.

"Do you still want to go, or is the invitation rescinded?"

"We're going," he grumbled.

"I'll pick you up at six tomorrow morning."

"Six. You didn't say anything about" -- "Six. Be ready, or I'm leaving without you."

Before Faith could argue, she was staring at the phone, which was dead in her hand. Replacing it in its cradle, she sat back in her chair, linked her fingers, pressed them to her mouth and wondered whether she was making a mistake. She'd given in to temptation, and though Sawyer had promised to save her from it--and though she trusted him to do just that--there was more to temptation than just sex.

Being with Sawyer, spending the entire weekend with him was a treat she couldn't pass up. She didn't have anything pressing to do over the weekend, and even if she had she couldn't think of anything that would appeal to her more than being with him.

Besides, she needed a weekend away.

Besides, she wouldn't mind stripping the moldings by the fireplace.

Besides, she liked the spontaneity of the whole thing.

So she was going. Feeling slightly scattered, even a little light-headed, she dropped her hands from her mouth and looked down to her desk to see what she had to do before she went home. It was a minute before she could make any sense of the papers strewn before her. They were the rough notes for a talk on family law she was delivering to a law school class the following Wednesday night, and she wanted it to be good. She wanted to teach her own full-term course one day; for that reason alone she had to impress both her students and whatever faculty members might be listening in.

But she wasn't in the mood for concentration just then, so she gathered the papers up, thinking to work on them at home that night.

Taking a file from her cabinet, she set it with the papers, then, wiping her palms on her skirt, looked around the office for anything else she'd need.

Almost absently, she glanced at her watch and realized that it was only three o'clock. She couldn't leave for the day. Loni hadn't left.

It was far too early--unless she had a court appearance or some other kind of appointment, which she didn't. So she sat back down in her chair and reached for the papers she'd so neatly piled together. She opened to the page she'd been reading, but ten minutes of staring at it without comprehending a word convinced her that it was best saved for another time.

Straightening the papers again, she slid them into her briefcase. Then she sat back, crossed her legs, took a pad of paper onto her lap and began to make a list of calls she wanted to make on Monday in reference to a client whose custody hearing was approaching She had four names and numbers listed when, with a start, she realized that she hadn't called Laura Leindecker back.

Cursing her distraction, she immediately phoned the woman and passed on the information Sawyer had given her. Laura was relieved, then annoyed.

"Where does that leave me?" she asked.

"Am I supposed to sit around all weekend and wait for him to come home?" "What would you normally do?" "Sit around all weekend and wait for him to come home. But I'm tired of doing that."

"Where will you go?"

"Out."

"What will you do?"

"Shop."

"Oh. Okay." Faith took a breath.

"May I make a suggestion?"

"Please do."

"I think that perhaps you should start thinking about what you want from this divorce in terms of the division of property. Once we formally file papers, we'll get into those kinds of negotiations. It would help if you think about them now."

It was a new tack. Until then, Faith had focused on whether or not Laura wanted the divorce. From the start, Laura had insisted that she did, still Faith knew that the decision had been ruled by anger and hurt, far more than reason. Faith suspected that once Laura turned her thoughts to the specifics of getting divorced and being divorced, she might decide it wasn't what she wanted at all.

"I'll think about it," Laura said, but a bit defensively.

"He'll fight me. He said he would."

"He doesn't want the divorce?"

"He must want it. After all, he's the one who found me so inadequate that he had to go looking for satisfaction with another woman."