Dissident (11 page)

But Caroline was still trying to avoid the thought running through her mind – her increasing desire for him to turn his car around, run through her front door, and take her in his arms again.

Caroline

June

Caroline looked out of the window in Jack’s office. His view wasn’t nearly as nice as hers, but freshmen usually got the shaft when it came to such things. They’d gone to dinner then headed back to Capitol Hill so that Jack could finish up a few things before heading home. She dreaded the drive back to her house in Rockville but the longer she waited, the quicker her commute would be. Thankfully school would be out in a few days. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with nearly as much traffic. Although that also meant Marguerite and Sophie would be leaving for camp soon, and she would miss them terribly.

“I should probably get going.” Caroline rolled down the sleeves of her blouse and put her suit jacket back on. “Thanks for dinner.”

“My pleasure,” Jack said.

She grabbed her purse and started to walk toward the door.

“Do you ever think about that night we kissed?” he asked. “During that dance lesson?”

Caroline turned around. “We talked about that, Jack. It didn’t mean anything. We got caught up in the moment. I’m surprised you’re still dwelling on it, to be honest.”

“That’s not how I interpreted it,” he said. “I know you felt it, Caroline. Just admit it.”

“It’s late. I really should leave.” She twirled back around and headed for the door.

Jack came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “That day after it snowed. That night in the basement. That dance lesson. And any other number of times I’ve felt the heat coming from you. I know what you want, Caroline. It’s the same thing I want. And I know you’re fighting it. I wish you’d let yourself go,” he whispered. “We could be so good together. You must have figured out how I feel about you.”

“We’re friends, Jack. That’s all.” Caroline was trying to ignore the warmth of his body pressed up against hers, the strength of his arms, the smell of his cologne. She told herself to pull away from him but found herself riveted to the floor.

“We’re not just friends, sweetheart.” His mouth was at her ear and his voice, dripping with desire and seductive promise, was driving her insane. “You know that. We have a connection. I want to be with you, as much more than friends.” He traced his fingers down her throat to her collarbone and she quivered, hearing a thudding noise as her purse dropped to the floor. “You want this,” Jack whispered. “You need this. You know you do. And you know I can give it to you. You deserve to be cherished, adored, taken care of.”

Her inner feminist ignored that last line, because everything else he said caused her heart rate to rise.

Jack spun her around to face him, tracing the outline of her lips.

Caroline couldn’t meet his eyes. “We can’t-”

“We can,” he said firmly.

Before she realized what he was doing, he kissed her again. She felt the rush she had before, more intense this time, as he pressed against her, hard, until she was backed up against the wall next to the door. His tongue teased her lips and she opened them for him, letting him taste her. Jack cupped her cheek in his hand as he stroked her hair with the other.

Caroline involuntarily reached up to grab his suspenders to steady herself, then realized the move was completely intentional. Jack was right. She wanted this. She wanted this so badly and he was finally giving it to her. He was warm, and safe, and oh so good. She leaned into his kiss, tugging at his collar. She wanted more. She wanted to touch him, taste him, feel him on top of her, moving inside her.

She nipped at his lips, trying to tease him closer. Jack gripped her ass, starting to inch his fingers toward the bottom of her skirt. He slid a hand up her nylons. Caroline moaned softly against his mouth, imagining the many delicious places that hand could go. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hoping to provide him with further encouragement, but he abruptly pulled away.

“I’m sorry, Caroline,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

She brought a hand up to her mouth. One kiss and she was panting. Actually panting. “No one’s ever done that before.”

“No one’s ever kissed you?” Jack’s tone was amused. “I did it a couple of weeks ago.”

“No, kissed me like that without asking. That was rather impolite.” Caroline tried to hide the fact that she was having trouble breathing. She didn’t bother adding that no one had ever made her react like that, either.

“If the way you responded to me was any indication, you enjoyed it.”

Caroline ran her hands through her hair and straightened her skirt, trying to bring herself back to reality. “Jack, we can’t do this.”

“Of course we can.”

“No, we can’t.”

“We’re consenting adults. We’re unattached. We can do whatever we want.”

“You know what I mean.”

“So you want to ignore this? This attraction we have to each other?”

“Yes.”

“You want this, sweetheart. You know you do.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“Caroline, you’re an incredible person. A beautiful woman. I like you. I’ve liked you since the night I met you. I want more than friendship.”

“I can’t give that to you,” she said softly.

“I think we could have something. Surely you must feel it, too.”

“How I feel is of little consequence. This can’t happen.”

Jack reached over to cup her cheek. “Why not?”

Her voice was getting shorter and she took a step back from him. “Because we can’t. It’s not right.”

“It is right. You know it. You’ve known it for months.” He reached toward her again. “Caroline-”

She swatted his hand down and took a step away from him. “I’m not ready,” she snapped. “We can’t do this because I’m not ready. I am not ready for this, for someone new, for something other than what I’ve been dealing with for the past year. I’m not ready to feel anything for anyone, least of all you.”

Jack looked hurt. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Caroline let out a hard breath. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I’m sorry. I like you. I like you a lot.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I like you a lot more than I should,” she whispered. “That’s the problem. We can’t do this. We’re so different.”

“We aren’t all that different,” he said. “We have a good time together. We laugh. We can discuss serious topics as easily as the superficial ones. We’re both passionate about policy, the greater good, our shared values. And we’re attracted to each other. What more do we need?”

“We want different things, Jack. We’re at different points in our lives. We live over a hundred miles apart when we’re not at work. For God’s sake, I endorsed your opponent in the last election. On top of that, I have two children to worry about. The decisions I make affect them too.  I don’t have hookups. I don’t do temporary.”

“And you’re saying I do?”

Caroline stared at the floor. 

“All right,” he said. “That’s a fair criticism.”

“I’ve only had serious relationships. I never really even dated all that much before I got married. And I don’t think I’m ready to take that step. I can’t handle anything like that right now. I’m sorry. I wish I could.”

Jack walked over to her and took her hands in his. “Caroline, I care about you. Very much. I want you to be happy. I want to be more than friends. But I’ll respect your decision if you don’t want to move forward with this, if you don’t want to explore this possibility. I’m simply asking you to consider it. Can you promise me that?”

“I guess so,” she said.

He tucked a loose hair behind her ear. “I’ll give you all the time you need. I won’t pressure you. And the next time I try to kiss you, I’ll ask first. Okay?”

“I really need to go,” she whispered, her eyes shut.

“Okay.” Jack sounded extremely dejected.

If she stayed there any longer she was liable to change her mind. Caroline scooped up her purse and rushed out the door, the heat of his kiss still playing at her lips.

Maureen stumbled into work that Friday morning.  She hadn’t slept well at all and left a message for her daughter that had gone unreturned. Remembering that she was supposed to check in with Bill, she meandered over to his office after getting a cup of coffee.  There were a number of police officers milling around, one of whom was carrying a cardboard box.

“What the hell is going on?” she demanded, attempting to go through the door.

One of the men, who appeared to be in charge, pushed her back. “You can’t go in there, ma’am.”

She scanned his name tag and badge number, noticing the patch on his arm. “The hell I can’t, Sergeant. Where’s Dr. Livingston?”

“Unfortunately, he passed away last night.”

Her heart sank. “Excuse me?”

“Brakes went out on his car.  Tragic, really.” The sergeant was trying to look regretful. “He was only a couple of miles from home.”

Bill’s Audi was only a few months old. She smelled bullshit. “He – what are you doing here, in his office?”

The sergeant’s face was blank. “His widow asked us to bring her his things. Apparently she has no interest in coming here to retrieve them. “

Maureen grabbed the cardboard box out of the other officer’s hands. “I can do that.”

The sergeant took the box from her. “Ma’am, please don’t interfere with this process.”

“No,” she said. “Someone who cares about Bill should be doing this.  This isn’t part of your job description.”

“It’s already been taken care of.” He turned to the other officers in the room. “I think we have what we need here, gentlemen. Good day, Doctor.”

Maureen frowned at him, not speaking as the sergeant and his men slinked out of the room. What he was saying couldn’t possibly be true.

As she left Bill’s office and went into the main part of the hospital, she knew he was right.  Random staffers were weeping softly. Several nurses were hugging each other.  Word must have spread fast.

She shuddered. This was too coincidental. But who could she talk to about it?  Who in the VA would think she was anything other than crazy? She bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to think of Bill’s final moments, then marched down the hall to go comfort her staff.

*              *              *              *              *

Maureen sat at her desk, where she’d been silently pondering her options for the last several hours. To her knowledge, the government still wasn’t able to track what was going on in her mind. At least, not yet. She wanted to go home immediately that morning but instead had spent time talking to employees, taking care of administrative matters, and trying to figure out exactly who was going to replace Bill. She had the distinct impression that it would be someone from the outside. Someone who wouldn’t have the same ideals as Dr. Livingston, or any other sane person for that matter.

She scribbled a few things on a piece of paper and looked at her watch. It was past dinnertime. Time to go home. She stared down at the car keys in her purse. Maybe today was a good day to take the train home instead.

The church was crowded.  It was a beautiful February morning, though it was bitterly cold. Maureen stepped out of her car.  A couple of other hospital staffers asked her to ride along with them to the funeral but she politely declined. She wanted to be alone. She didn’t want to swap happy stories or express deeply held gratitude or any of the other things that people did while trying to make themselves feel better about the death of a friend. She didn’t care if they thought she was being aloof. She missed Bill and she wasn’t ready to share her grief with anyone yet.

Maureen sank into a pew near the back of the church. The ceremony went by quickly. The pastor mentioned Bill’s dedication to his country, his love of family, and a bunch of flowery, trite anecdotes that made it obvious that he really didn’t know who he was talking about.  Bill’s son gave a heartfelt, emotional eulogy, and most of the attendees were in tears by the time he was finished. Maureen sat clenching her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She hadn’t cried yet. Didn’t want to. Stoicism was her chosen path. She and Bill had worked together for almost a decade and she wasn’t ready to let go.

The recessional hymn began and Bill’s children filed out behind the casket.  Bill’s eldest son was holding on to his mother tightly.  She looked devastated. Maureen knew that look.  She felt the same way when her husband passed away a decade before.  It was the kind of thing that stayed with you forever even if you managed to make your peace with it.

Maureen shuffled out of the service with the rest of the mourners. Bill’s widow, Barbara, was near the front of the church.  Shockingly, she was alone.  Maureen hesitated to bother her at first; it was probably one of the few moments Barbara had to stop putting on a brave face, and Maureen didn’t want to disturb that.  But she saw Barbara waving her over, so she figured it was safe.

Bill’s wife pulled Maureen into a warm hug as soon as she came over. “Thank you for coming,” she whispered. “Bill just adored you.”

Maureen swallowed hard, desperately close to crying. Barbara was probably being nice but it warmed her heart to hear it.  Maureen had perhaps been liked by her colleagues, but never beloved. “I know,” she said. “How are you holding up?”

Barbara’s eyes were watery. “It’s been hard. I don’t understand it. That car was almost brand new. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Maureen didn’t want to press anything but figured now was the best time to do it. “Did anyone look at the car to figure out what happened?”

“No,” Barbara said. “The police told me the brakes went out. I mean, what else could it have been?” She shook her head. “Sometimes these things just happen, I guess.”

“Did the cops bring you everything you asked for?  I can clear out the rest of Bill’s stuff if you want.”

Barbara gave her a puzzled look. “What are you talking about?”

Maureen rubbed her eyes. “They were in Bill’s office a few days ago. They told me you’d asked them to bring you some of his personal effects.”

The other woman frowned. “I never said any such thing to those men. They were fairly rude, to begin with. No compassion, very cold. Like it was an inconvenience to be there. I’m lucky that one of my golf partners was at the house with me or I’d have gotten no support at all.”

Maureen inhaled sharply. “Maybe I misheard them, then. Do you want me to bring you anything?  I’m sure he has quite a few items in there that have some meaning for your family.”

“I’ll have one of the boys do it,” Barbara said. “Can they give you a call to arrange things?”

“Absolutely.”

Barbara patted Maureen’s hand. “Thank you again, Maureen. Will you be coming to the luncheon in the church basement?”

Her mind was running overtime, and she glanced at her watch. “No, I need to get back. I want you to know…if you ever need anything, please call me.”

Barbara gave her a final hug. “That means a lot. Maybe the two of us can lunch sometime.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Maureen said. “Take care of yourself. Bill was a good man. I’ll miss him.”

Barbara gave her a smile as she walked away.

*              *              *              *              *

Maureen hustled down the hall, checking behind her.  Good, she was alone.  She fumbled in her pocket for her keys.  She could have sworn that Bill had given her the spare key to his office a few years back.  She hurried inside her own suite and checked inside the side drawer of her desk. The key was still there, buried under a pile of long forgotten paperwork.

Breathless, she ran up the stairs to Bill’s office and unlocked the door.  She shut the door behind her, gulping for air.  Maureen looked around and almost kicked herself. How could she have failed to notice that almost everything in Bill’s office was untouched?  Had the shock of the news distracted her that much? Or had the cops just been that good at keeping her off her game?

She moved over to his desk, shuffling some papers around, then glanced at a picture of him and his family on a ski vacation in Colorado. Maureen bit her lip. He really was a decent man.  A kind boss, a fair administrator…everything he learned in the military and throughout his career taught him that being reasonable but demanding produced positive results.

She noticed one of the drawers in Bill’s file cabinet was ajar. She pulled it open. It was empty, save for one tabbed divider. “Notes on Patient Files,” it read. Bill had a habit of keeping detailed narratives on the more troublesome cases that came through the door, though he wasn’t required to do it. When she tried to shut it again, it wouldn’t close. The lock was broken. She tried to open the other drawers, but with one drawer open, they wouldn’t budge.

It didn’t matter.  The authorities had what they wanted.

“Fuck,” Maureen whispered.