Genuine Lies (27 page)

Fifteen minutes later, she rose up in the shallow end, hissing through her teeth as the chill air hit her wet skin. And she felt wonderful. Laughing to herself, rubbing her arms, she started to haul herself from the water, starting when a towel landed on her head.

“Dry off,” Eve suggested. She was sitting at the round table on the tiled apron. A bottle and two glasses stood in front of her. In her hand was a fat white geranium she’d plucked from her own beds. “And let’s have a drink.”

Automatically Julia scrubbed the towel over her hair. “I didn’t hear you come out.”

“You were busy shooting for the Olympic record.” She passed the geranium under her nose before laying it aside. “Haven’t you ever heard of a leisurely swim?”

With a grin, Julia straightened up and reached for her robe. “I was on the swim team in high school. I always did the last leg of the relays. And I always won.”

“Ah, competitive.” Eve’s eyes glittered approval as she poured two glasses of champagne. “Let’s drink to the victor.”

Julia sat, accepted the glass. “Do we have one yet?”

This brought a rich burst of laughter. “Oh, I like you, Julia.”

Mellowed, Julia touched her glass to Eve’s. “I like you too.”

There was a pause while Eve lit a cigarette. “So, tell me.” She blew out smoke that vanished into the dark. “What brings you out for a not so leisurely swim?”

Julia thought about the note, then dismissed it. The mood here was much too easy to spoil. And, if she were honest, it
hadn’t been only the note that had sent her out. It had been loneliness, the crushing weight of an empty house.

“The house was too quiet. Brandon went out for the evening.”

Eve smiled as she lifted the glass to them. “So I heard. I ran into your young son yesterday on the tennis courts. He has the makings of an excellent serve.”

“You … you played tennis with Brandon?”

“Oh, very impromptu,” Eve said, and crossed her bare feet at the ankles. “And I much preferred his company to the machine that shoots tennis balls at me like fuzzy cannonballs. In any case, he told me that the men were having a night out at the big game. You needn’t worry,” she added. “Paul may be a bit reckless from time to time, but he won’t let the boy get drunk and pick up women.”

Julia might have laughed if she hadn’t felt so transparent. “I’m not used to him being out at night. That is, sleepovers at a friend’s and that sort of thing, but …”

“But not him being out with a man.” She tapped her cigarette in an ashtray fashioned like a swan. “Were you hurt very badly?”

Julia stopped brooding into her drink and straightened her shoulders. “No.”

Eve merely arched a brow. “When a woman has told as many lies as I have, she recognizes one easily. Don’t you feel it’s destructive to pretend?”

After a moment Julia drank deeply. “I feel it’s constructive to forget.”

“If you can. But you live with a reminder every day.”

Very deliberately Julia refilled her glass, topped off Eve’s. “Brandon doesn’t remind me of his father.”

“He’s a beautiful child. I envy you.”

The annoyance Julia had started to build faded. “You know, I believe you do.”

“Oh, I do.” She rose quickly and began to shed the emerald lounging pajamas, dropping the silk carelessly to the tiles. “I’m going for a quick dip.” Naked, her milk-white flesh glowing in the starlight, she crushed out the cigarette. “Be a
darling, Julia, and fetch me a robe out of the bath house.” With this, she dove headfirst into the dark water.

Amused, intrigued, Julia obeyed, choosing a long thick robe of navy velour. She offered it, and a matching towel, to Eve as the woman stepped back out of the pool, shaking herself like a dog—one with a top pedigree.

“Christ, there’s nothing like swimming naked under the stars.” Chilled and invigorated, she slipped her arms into the robe. “Unless it’s swimming naked under the stars with a man.”

“Sorry I don’t qualify.”

With a long and pleased sigh, Eve sunk into her chair, lifted her glass. “Ah, to men, Julia. Believe me, some of them are almost worth it.”

“Worth something,” Julia agreed.

“Why didn’t you ever name Brandon’s father?”

It was a sneak attack, Julia thought, but found herself more weary than annoyed. “I didn’t do that to protect Brandon’s father. He wasn’t worthy of loyalty or protection. My parents were.”

“And you loved them very much.”

“I loved them enough to try to keep from hurting them more than I had. Of course I couldn’t fully understand what it must have done to them to have their seventeen-year-old daughter tell them she was pregnant. But they never shouted or berated, they never judged or blamed—unless they blamed themselves. When they asked who the father was, I knew I could never tell them because it would have ripped the wound open further instead of letting it heal.”

Eve waited a moment. “You’ve never been able to talk about it with anyone?”

“No.”

“Talking about it can’t hurt them now, Julia. If there was ever someone who isn’t in the position to judge another woman’s behavior, it’s me.”

Julia hadn’t expected Eve’s offer or her own pressing need to take her up on it. It was the right time, the right place, and the right woman, Julia realized.

“He was a lawyer,” Julia began. “Not so surprising. My father took him into the firm right after he passed the bar. He thought Lincoln showed tremendous potential for criminal law. And though my father would never have said it, never even have consciously thought it, he’d always wished for a son— one to sort of carry on the Summers name in the hall of justice.”

“And this Lincoln fit the bill.”

“Oh, beautifully. He was ambitious and idealistic at the same time, dedicated, eager. It pleased my father tremendously that his protégé was climbing right up the ladder.”

“And you,” Eve asked. “You were attracted to ambition and idealism?”

After a moment’s thought, Julia smiled. “I was just attracted. I did some clerical work for my father during my senior year—after school, evenings, Saturdays. I’d missed him after the divorce, and it was a way to spend more time around him. But I started spending it around Lincoln.”

She smiled to herself. When she thought back, it was hard to condemn the young girl who had been so hungry for love and romance.

“He was a striking man—elegant. Tall and blond, always so polished, with this trace of sadness in his eyes.”

Eve gave a quick laugh. “Nothing seduces a woman quicker than a trace of sadness in the eyes.”

Julia heard her own laugh with some amazement. Odd, she hadn’t realized that something that had seemed so tragic could have its light side after time had ripened it. “I thought it was Byronic,” Julia said, and laughed again. “And of course it was all the more exciting and dramatic because he was older. Fourteen years older.”

Eve’s eyes widened. She let out a long, quiet breath before she spoke. “Christ, Julia, you should have been ashamed of yourself, seducing the poor bastard. A girl of seventeen is lethal.”

“And the first time one comes sniffing around Brandon, I’ll shoot her between the eyes. But … I was in love,” she said airily, and realized the absurdity of it. “He was this
dashing, dedicated, deserving older man—and married,” she added. “Though, of course, his marriage was over.” “Of course,” Eve said dryly.

“He started asking me to do a little extra work for him. My father had given him his first really important case, and he wanted to be fully prepared. There would be all these long, meaningful looks over cold pizza and lawbooks. Accidental brushes of the hand. Quiet, longing sighs.”

“Jesus, I’m getting hot.” Eve propped a hand on her chin. “Don’t stop now.”

“He kissed me in the law library, right over the State vs. Wheelwright.”

“Romantic fool.”

“Better than Tara and Manderley combined. Then he was leading me over to the couch—this big, overstuffed couch in burgundy leather. I was telling him that I loved him, and he was telling me that I was beautiful. It didn’t occur to me until later what those differences meant. I loved him, and he thought I was beautiful. Well,” she said as she sipped. “The deed’s been done for less lofty motives.”

“And the one who does the loving is usually the one to be hurt.”

“In his way, he paid.” Julia made no objections when Eve refilled their glasses. It felt good, damn good, to sit out in the night, drink a little too much and talk to an understanding woman. “We were lovers for a week on that big, ugly couch. One week in a person’s life is so little, really. Then he told me, very kindly, very honestly that he and his wife were going to make another go of it. I caused one hell of a scene. Scared him to death.”

“Good for you.”

“It was satisfying, but short-lived. He was out of the office for the next couple of weeks, trying the case. He won, of course, and began his very illustrious career with my father strutting around like a proud papa with a pocketful of cigars. So when I discovered I wasn’t just late, I wasn’t just out of sorts or coming down with the flu, but I was pregnant, I didn’t go to my father, or to my mother. I went to Lincoln, who had
been told by his newly reconciled wife that she, too, would be delivering a little bundle of joy.”

Eve’s heart broke a little, but she kept her tone matter-of-fact. “Our boy’d been very busy.”

“Very busy. He offered to pay for the abortion, or to handle an adoption. It never occurred to him that I would keep the baby. Actually, it hadn’t occurred to me either. And I realized as he took on this thorny little problem in his very organized, very dedicated way, that I’d never been in love with him at all. When I finally made my choice, and told my parents about the pregnancy, he had months to sweat out whether or not I would point the finger. That’s nearly enough punishment for a man who had nudged a girl, a starry-eyed but very willing girl, into being a woman.”

“Oh, I doubt that’s enough,” Eve said. “But then, you have Brandon. That, I think, is justice.”

Julia smiled. Yes, she thought. It had been the right time, the right place, and the right woman. “You know, Eve, I think I might try my hand at skinny-dipping before I go in.”

Eve waited until Julia had peeled out of her suit and jumped into the steamy water. She allowed the silent tears to come, then brushed them away before they could be caught in the glint of starlight.

Warm, dry, Julia relaxed in front of the late news. The house was as empty as it had been before she’d dashed off for the pool, but she didn’t feel so uncomfortable in it now. Whatever came of the book, she knew she would always be grateful to Eve for that hour by the water.

The nasty little fingers of tension were gone from the base of her neck and spine. She was so relaxed, so purged, she could almost shut her eyes and drift off to sleep.

But she sprang up, heart thundering, at the sound of an approaching car. The headlights speared through the window, slashed across the room. She had her hand on the telephone before she heard the car door open, and slam shut. With her fingers poised to punch 911, she peeked through the blinds.
When she recognized Paul’s Studebaker, she let out a nervous laugh. By the time she met him at the front door, she had herself under control.

Brandon was sleeping nuzzled against his shoulder. For one instant, seeing Paul in the glow of the front porch light, her child safe in his arms, she felt a longing, a need she couldn’t afford to recognize. Julia shoved the need aside and reached for her son.

“He’s zonked,” Paul said unnecessarily, shifting enough to keep the boy to himself. “There’s some more stuff in the car. I’ll carry him up if you’ll get it.”

“All right. It’s the first door on the left.” Shivering a little, she dashed out to the car. The “stuff” included three rolled-up posters, a pennant, an official NBA jersey, a full color program, and a souvenir mug filled with buttons, pens, and key chains. As she gathered it all up, she caught the faint whiff of stale sickness and bubble gum. With a shake of her head she walked back inside as Paul came downstairs.

“Plenty of willpower, right?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “They ganged up on me. If you’re interested, we won, 143 to 139.”

“Congratulations.” She dumped Brandon’s trophies on the couch. “Who got sick?”

“Nothing gets by a mother. Dustin. I was unlocking the car. He said—wow, that was rad, or words to that effect. And threw up on his shoes. He’d almost recovered by the time I got him home.”

“And Brandon?”

“An iron constitution.”

“You?”

On a short, heartfelt moan, he dropped down on the steps. “I could really use a drink.”

“Help yourself. I’ll run up and check on Brandon.”

Paul snagged her wrist as she started to pass. “He’s fine.”

“I’ll check,” she said, and continued up.

She found him tucked in, still wearing his cap. A look under the covers showed her Paul had taken the time, and the care, to remove the boy’s shoes and jeans. Leaving him
sleeping, she went down to find Paul holding two glasses of wine.

“I figured you wouldn’t make me drink alone.” He passed her the glass, tapped his against it. “To motherhood. You have my undying respect.”

“Put you through the paces, did they?”

“Eight times,” he said, and sipped. “That’s how often two ten-year-olds need to use the John during a basketball game.”

She laughed and sat on the sofa. “I can’t say I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Brandon says you’re pretty good with baseball.” He pushed the loot to the edge of the couch and sat beside her. “Pretty good.”

“Maybe you’ll come along for the Dodgers.”

“I’ll think about it, if we’re still in town.”

“April’s not so far away.” He tossed an arm over the back of the couch and let his fingers play with her hair. “And Eve’s led a long and eventful life.”

“So I’m learning. And on the subject of the book, I’d like that interview as soon as possible.”

His fingers wandered through her hair and onto her neck. “Why don’t you come to my place, say tomorrow night? We can have dinner, privacy, and … discuss things.”

The curling in her stomach was part fear, part temptation. “I’ve always felt business was best done in a business setting.”