Disclosures - SF4 (49 page)

"That must have been the residuals from your pony ride," she said with a smirk. "I wanted to go for a ride too," she whispered into her ear.

"Let’s get through this evening and we can ride all night," she promised with another kiss.

Ryan turned and washed her hands. She grabbed the doorknob and they both nearly tumbled out. "Your house is beyond spectacular," she observed. "Should I ask for a tour?"

"Maybe next time. Mother could easily spend all day extolling all of her treasures."

Hand in hand, they walked into the ornate dining room. The table was made for 16 and they looked a little lost, clustered at one end. Ryan wondered why they didn’t have a more casual set-up for family dinners, but she decided that they certainly did not consider her family, and perhaps they never would.

The food and the wine were so incredibly good that Ryan had a hard time staying focused on the conversation. Jamie spared a few teasing glances her way, acknowledging the look of absolute pleasure on Ryan’s lovely face. Ryan noticed that Jamie accepted a half glass of wine, but did not take more than a token sip. Ryan had more than usual, finishing off two good-sized glasses of the extraordinary merlot that they enjoyed. To her amazement, Marta brought out another bottle of the wine when they were no more than halfway through dinner, and the Evanses made quick work of it also.

The meal was so sumptuous that she wanted to compliment someone, but she knew that no one at the table had anything to do with the preparation so she didn’t quite know what to say. She considered her options, but decided that, "You sure do know how to hire a cook," was probably not the correct avenue, so she said nothing.

During the meal, they spoke of Ryan’s athletic career, and then Jim told Catherine all about Jamie’s desire to try out for the golf team. As Ryan watched him relate the tale, she had to smile at his rampant enthusiasm. It occurred to her that Jim was awfully invested in Jamie’s plans, and she hoped that her partner was being honest with herself when she said she was playing as much for herself as for her father.

Ryan was eyeing the last bit of coconut cake that remained on Jamie’s plate when Jim stood up and indicated that Ryan should join him for their discussion. Jamie stood also, but he shook his head firmly. "I want to speak to Ryan alone," he said in a tone that normally would not allow for dissent. To her own surprise, she found herself staring directly into her father’s eyes, saying, "I don’t see the need for you to speak to Ryan alone, Daddy. She’s not interviewing for the position, you know." There was a touch of humor in her voice as well as a pleasant smile on her face, but Ryan knew that both were a thin cover for her determination.

Jim stopped and stared at his daughter for a full minute. As the managing partner for a very large law firm, he was familiar with unblinking obedience to his requests, and he found that he did not appreciate this sign of disrespect from his own daughter. "I thought we had covered this, Jamie," he said evenly. "I wanted Ryan to come down here to answer some questions…What part of that request did you not understand?"

Ryan could see that this little contretemps could easily get out of hand. She hated to show a lack of support for her partner, but she was perfectly comfortable answering Jim’s questions, and she let him know that. "It’s really all right, Jamie," she assured her. "I don’t mind speaking to your father alone."

Jamie shot her a grateful look, glad to be spared the fight that she feared would ensue if she held her ground. "Okay, Honey," she said softly squeezing Ryan’s hand as she left.

Jim led her back through the living room and down a long hall until they reached a wood paneled library. It was a very imposing room, and as he walked around the place he seemed very much in control. "I’m having a brandy. Will you join me?"

Ryan had never had brandy in her life, but she wasn’t going to admit that. She knew that the power imbalance between them was massive, and she wanted to appear as cool as she could manage. "That would be nice," she agreed, figuring, if nothing else, that her first taste of brandy would be the good stuff.

He handed her a snifter, then sat behind the huge, ornately carved desk. His chair was a deep burgundy leather, enormous in scale. He rocked back and placed his feet on the desk and gazed at Ryan with an inscrutable look on his face. The only chair available for her was directly across from the massive piece, and to her amusement she noticed that it was just a hair too small for most adults. It was leather also, but straight-backed, and it required her to fidget quite a bit to attempt to get comfortable.
Isn’t this subtle?
she thought.
I wonder if the KGB helped with the design?

He reached behind his desk and took a massive cigar from a humidor.
Don’t laugh!
she chided herself, forcing the jokes about Monica Lewinsky and the president from her mind. He fussed with the cigar for a few minutes, and when he had it lit, leaned back again and narrowed his eyes as the smoke wafted into them. "You don’t mind if I’m direct, do you?"

"I’d prefer it," she replied.

"Good," he said as he rocked back and forth, sucking on his phallic symbol. "You seem like a fine young woman, Ryan."

For a blue-collar, working-class, immigrant lesbian, that is,
she added for him
.
She responded civilly to the statement, deliberately taking it at face value. "Thank you, sir," she said as she waited for the ‘but’.

"I believe that you love my daughter, and I’m certain that she believes that she loves you."

Here it comes
, she thought.
3-2-1-

"But....I’m absolutely convinced that she does not belongs in this type of relationship."

No, you would have much preferred that she marry Jack, even if she would have been miserable in the end.
Ryan resisted her impulse to deliver a scathing retort and struggled, but maintained her composure. "What type of relationship would you prefer that she be in, sir?" she asked politely.

"I believe that you know what point I’m trying to make. I do not believe that my daughter is a lesbian."

Knowing that Jamie did not style herself as a lesbian, Ryan could not dispute his statement, but she was willing to let Jamie be in charge of that discussion. "Don’t you think she’s in a better position to judge that, sir?"

"No, I don’t!" he said with his voice beginning to rise. "She’s in a very fragile state, Ryan, and I mean no disrespect, but I believe you’ve taken advantage of that."

He is implying that I seduced her when Jack broke up with her. That sonofabitch.
Ryan took a deep breath, controlling the anger that roiled within her.
This is Jamie’s father. He’s important to her. I can do this…for Jamie.
Completely under control, she finally responded. "Why would I be offended by that characterization?" she asked calmly.

"I’m not implying that you’ve done so intentionally. I can imagine that your feelings for her are genuine, but I think you’ve put ideas into her head that do not belong there!"

"I mean no disrespect, sir, but that is not true. I would never try to influence anyone who had just gone through an upsetting breakup. Jamie was very, very thorough and careful every step of the way, sir. This is not a whim for her. And I assure you she made up her own mind. I certainly have not had much luck in changing her mind when she’s determined about something. Have you?"

"No," he reluctantly admitted. "I haven’t. But my point remains, Ryan. Do you mind if I ask you some personal questions?"

"I’m happy to answer anything about my life. But I’m uncomfortable talking about our relationship out of Jamie’s presence."

"Fine," he said. "My questions are about you."

I was afraid of that
, Ryan thought, having a good idea of the direction his questions would take.

"I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so nervous," Catherine remarked, slightly puzzled by her daughter’s restlessness.

Jamie had stacked, scattered, stacked, and scattered again the coasters that sat upon the coffee table in front of the sofa, and she looked like she was about to repeat the cycle but stopped on hearing her mother's comment. "I just don’t like it, Mother." She ran a hand through her hair, partly to stop herself from playing with the coasters, now that her little compulsion had been noticed. "She doesn’t have to answer to Daddy for anything that’s happened."

"I know, Dear," Catherine soothed, placing her hand upon her daughter’s back. She added a few gentle pats, surprised at the sturdy muscularity that she encountered. "He forgets sometimes that there is a difference between home and the office. I wouldn’t worry so, Jamie. Ryan seems very able to handle herself."

"She is." Jamie dropped her head, letting out a heavy sigh. "She’s just…sensitive, Mother." Turning to face Catherine she added, "I don’t want him to hurt her feelings."

"There is always that possibility," Catherine agreed. "He can be a little overbearing." Now a small frown caused a few faint lines to appear in Catherine’s forehead. "If you want me to, I’ll go poke my head in to see how things are going."

Jamie considered the offer for a moment, shaking her head briefly to refuse it. "I don’t think that will help. Once Daddy decides he wants to know something, I don’t think either of us can stop him."

"Are you worried about anything in particular, Dear?"

Hmm…her sexual past, the disparity in our finances, our plans to have me support her….
She decided not to share her specific concerns with her mother, irrationally worrying that giving them voice might make them come true. "Not really," she said. "I just know that Daddy has the ability to make people feel small and insignificant, and it would really upset me to have him do that to Ryan."

Catherine gave her another pat on the back, adding, "I can see how significant she is to
you
, Jamie. That’s what’s important."

The Evans women shared a warm smile, with Jamie offering up a silent prayer of thanks that her mother was being so understanding.

Jim took several deep puffs on his cigar, nearly blinding Ryan, but she refused to give in to her urge to cough. "I take it that you consider yourself a lesbian?"

"Yes, sir."

"How old were you when you had this realization?"

"At some level I’ve always known. But I was certain when I was 17."

"Have you had much experience with men?"

"Only with living with them," she smiled. "But no, I’ve never had a sexual relationship with a man."

"Have you dated a lot of women?"

Ryan spent a moment looking at her shoes. She was certainly not going to reveal the extensive numbers of women she had slept with, but she decided that she needed to be truthful. "Yes, sir. I have."

"And have you ever dated a woman who was roughly in my daughter’s situation? Someone who had previously considered themselves heterosexual but nonetheless was attracted to you?"

"Yes, sir." Ryan could see the paint beginning to surround her as he edged her closer to the corner.

"And did those women stay in the lesbian community to your knowledge?"

"No, sir, they did not," she replied as she drank the last of her brandy. He rose from his chair and poured another two inches for her, stopping to replenish his own snifter with a prodigious amount of the amber liquid.

"Why do you suppose that happened?" he continued with his back turned as he replaced the bottle.

"I don’t believe they were lesbians, sir. I think they were just experimenting."

"Precisely!" he said triumphantly. "That’s exactly what I think Jamie is doing."

"I beg to disagree, Sir. I got a different feeling from Jamie from the beginning. I never thought she was just playing, and that’s why I was reluctant to move forward with her."

He considered her statement as he sank back into his chair, the leather squeaking in the otherwise silent room. "How many seemingly heterosexual women have you dated, Ryan?"

She looked down at the floor again. She knew this was a sure-fire loser argument, but she felt that she had to answer. "About ten or so."

"Ten?" he replied with a look of amazement. "You did say ten, didn’t you?"

"Yes, sir. I said about ten."

"You did understand my question didn’t you, Ryan?" He tilted his head and furrowed his sandy blonde eyebrows together. "I didn’t ask how many women you had been with in total. Just the ones that you thought were heterosexual."

Oooh, Jamie, only for you…
"I understood your question," Ryan said, giving him a steely gaze.

He shook his head and stared at her for a few long minutes and finally blinked his eyes slowly. "All right," he finally said. "You claim the number is about ten. So it could even be more?"

"Yes, sir. Or fewer," she added, for the record. She thought to herself,
If I get confused I can always have the court reporter read my last statement back to me.

"And not one of these women remained involved in a lesbian lifestyle?"

"No, sir. To my knowledge, not one did."

"But you’re confident that out of all the straight women you’ve dated, my daughter is the only true lesbian."