Home to Harmony (8 page)

Todd, who seemed to be lead dog on the team, said, “So, David, got any bud?”

Huh? “You two smoke?” he asked.

They sneered, like
duh,
but he didn’t buy it. “We figured you’d have killer weed from the commune.”

“Sorry.” He had an emergency joint in his pocket, but he wouldn’t get these two stoned in front of their parents in a million years.

Their faces fell. “Just get it,” Todd muttered to his brother, who upended a trophy and pulled out a baggie and a pipe. “It’s just ditch weed….” Todd shrugged.

“I’m cool,” he said, raising his hands to decline. He needed a clear head in this alien land.

There was a knock at the door, so Robert put the trophy back and went to answer. The maid handed him a tray with soup and enchiladas, along with plates and silverware.

It smelled amazing.

“You sure you don’t want to smoke?” Todd asked him. “Carmen’s tortilla soup is
awesome
when you’re stoned.”

“I’m good,” he said, digging into the soup. It was as tasty as it smelled. Meanwhile, the twins went through their dope-smoking-prep routine. Todd lit incense, while Robert shoved a towel along the door crack and opened the window.

They sat on the backs of desk chairs and blew the smoke outdoors, grinning at each other like baboons.

Get me out of here,
David thought, digging into an enchilada. It practically melted in his mouth.

Once the twins had a buzz on, they joined him with the food, apologizing about how they had to act so scrubbed for their parents. They made their mom sound more neurotic than Christine and their dad was a bully.

“What do you do for fun around here?” he asked them.

“We drive the BMW to Preston when Dad lets us,” Robert said.

David’s ears perked up.
Drivers’ licenses and a car.
Jackpot. “What about Phoenix? Ever go there?”

“On our own? No way,” Robert said. “Our dad’s an asshole about his car. He checks mileage every time we drive.”

“Dad’s an asshole about everything,” Todd said.

“Mainly when he drinks, though,” Robert said, shrugging.

Okay, no ride to Phoenix, but David would bet there’d be a bus station in Preston. The twins could drive him that far.

“Think it’s Ginger time?” Todd asked his brother.

“Ginger time?” David asked.

The boys snorted with baked laughter. “It’s this amazing porn chick. For free…well, five minutes’ worth anyway.”

That was the last thing he needed. David spotted a phone on the nightstand. “Can I use your phone?” The ache for Brigitte was like a live animal chewing him up inside.

“Go ahead,” Todd said. While David dialed Brigitte’s number, lying between the beds for privacy, the twins sat side by side at the computer and clicked their way into porn land.

“Hello?” Brigitte yelled into the phone. David could hardly hear her over the background wall of noise and music.

“It’s David,” he said. “Where are you?”

“At a club. It’s loud. Sorry.”

“Can you step outside?”

“I might not get back in.”

“I miss you so much—”

“It’s crazy here,” she yelled. “I’ll tell you when you call tomorrow. I can’t hear you. I love you. ’Bye.”

David felt sick. Brigitte was going to clubs, meeting guys who didn’t know she had a boyfriend and hardly talking to him.

He had to get to her.
Had to.

“She’s got the longest tongue ever,” Robert said.

“It’s a biological miracle,” Todd said, equally amazed.

God. These two chuckleheads were content to gawk at pixilated female flesh, while David’s whole soul had been packed into a stolen phone call that Brigitte had cut short.

His chest ached and his throat was so tight he could hardly swallow. He wanted to hit something hard, anything to stop feeling the pain in his brain and chest.

He slugged the bed frame with all his might, glad when pain sliced through his rage and hurt. He squeezed his bruised hand and gasped for air. When the burning faded to a dull ache, he fished out his iPod, lifted the sound-canceling headphones from his neck and played fierce metal full blast, more determined than ever to get home.

If the twins couldn’t drive him to Preston, he’d teach himself to drive after everyone was in bed at night.

He was just starting to calm down when he became aware of a commotion around him. He pulled off his headphones and sat up. Mrs. Barlow stood in the doorway with a tray of little bowls with a crusty white pudding, Christine behind her. They both looked upset.

“But we’re
not
smoking,” Todd said. “That’s incense.”

“What’s that window doing open? Our A/C bill has been through the roof.” Their mother set the tray on one of the beds and went for the window, but Robert lunged in front of her, while Todd scrambled to hide the pipe and weed.

“What in the name of goodness are you boys looking at?” Mrs. Barlow gasped. They’d been so stoner clueless, they’d forgotten the porn on the computer screen.

“What’s the trouble in here?” The moment their father appeared, both twins stiffened, clearly afraid of the guy.

“Explain!” he snapped, sounding like a drill sergeant in a bad war movie. He also sounded drunk.

“We accidentally clicked the wrong link, Dad, and—”

“That’s it. The Internet is done in this house.” He ripped the cord from the back of the computer. “Cancel our service on Monday, Susan.”

“Dad, come on. It was a mistake. Don’t do that.” Jumping up to object, Todd’s elbow knocked the pipe and pot to the floor. Everyone’s eyes shot to the small glass tube and bag of weed.

“Is that what I think it is?” Mrs. Barlow said. Her gaze shot instantly to David. “Did
you
bring
drugs
into
our house?
”

So he had to be the druggie, not her angel sons. Disgusting. David opened his mouth to object. Then he noticed the twins, white as ghosts, cowering together, shooting fearful looks at their dad, the bully. Robert caught David’s eye and put his finger to his mouth.
Don’t tell.
If David ratted out the twins, they sure as hell wouldn’t be driving him to Preston anytime soon. The porn might get them smacked around already by their butthole father.

He just couldn’t do it to the doofuses. He could take the hit easier than they could anyway. His mom would be proud of him for being kind. Plus he hadn’t even smoked. He reached down and grabbed the goods.

“Why, never in my life—” Mrs. Barlow gasped. “You gave our boys
drugs?
”

“Give me that and get out to the car,” Christine said, holding out a trembling hand, her face pale, lips tight, eyes full of shame.

She might not believe me,
he realized. That made him mad. He handed over the stash and stalked out.

The one good moment was seeing the amazed gratitude and relief on the twins’ faces. They owed him now. Big-time.

“Forget it.” Figured she’d expect the worst.

“How could you do this? How? You promised me no drugs. It’s bad enough
you
use pot, but you talked those boys into it? You sabotage everything! How could you?” Her voice shook and she was about to cry. He hated when she cried.

“I’m sure David will explain what happened when you’re able to hear him,” Marcus said in a strong voice. “For now, take a moment to catch your breath, Christine.”

“Catch my breath? Are you kidding me?” She glared at the guy, opened her mouth to give him hell, then suddenly sagged in her seat, blowing out a huge breath.

Good one, Doctor B.,
David thought, amazed the shrink-talk had actually worked on his mother.

They drove for a few minutes in tense silence, until Marcus spoke. “You seemed angry at more than David, Christine.”

She jerked to face him. “What? More than…?” She paused. “I guess I didn’t appreciate how self-righteous Susan got. Like we’d polluted her house or something. ‘I have
never
in my
life…
I can’t believe you gave our boys
drugs
.’ Well, la-di-dah. Welcome to the real world, lady.”

David felt his mouth fall open. His mother was defending him against the snooty bitch she’d been trying to impress. Wow.

“Meanwhile, her husband, the big-shot
mayor,
was drunk on his ass. I swear he drank that second bottle of wine all by himself. They’re both hypocrites, that’s all I can say.”

Marcus said nothing. In the quiet pause, David realized this might be his chance to say his piece. “I know you won’t believe me, but the pot was theirs. I didn’t smoke any of it.”

“What?” His mother twisted to look at him.

“They asked me if I wanted some and I said no. Their dad’s an asshole and they were busted about the porn already. They were begging me not to narc on them, so I took the hit. The parents thought I was druggie scum anyway.” He shrugged.

“They did not think that,” Christine said, but in a softer, more thoughtful voice. “Susan thinks you’re handsome and you have nice hair. If you’d just get it out of your eyes…” She looked out the window. She seemed more sad than pissed now.

She believed him. Marcus had made her calm down and hear him for once.

“What am I supposed to say to Susan now?” she said.

“Who cares? Those people are assholes.”

“Stop saying the
A
word,” she said, but she wasn’t really that upset. In fact, he figured she agreed with him.

“I mean they spent the whole night showing off how rich they were,” David responded. “Like they needed a cook. Come on. And that golf course in the backyard? The guy’s a dill hole.”

Marcus coughed to hide a laugh.

“I hate that Susan and Winston think you dragged their angel boys into doing drugs. It’s not right.”

“Who cares? You just called her self-righteous and him a drunk. Don’t be a hypocrite yourself.”

Marcus caught his eye in the mirror, trying to remind David about keeping his mother off his back.

He shot back a
yeah, yeah
look. “Anyway, I didn’t do anything wrong. I was helping my friends.” He paused. “Plus I’m almost done with English.”

“Really? You are?” She whipped around again, all hopeful.

“Yeah. In a couple days. Then it’s only math and history.”

“That’s good, David. Really good.” She faced forward with a happy sigh. For now. It wouldn’t last, he knew, with sinking dread. To her he’d always be a screwup and a disappointment. The only person who understood him was Brigitte and she was slipping away. He had to get to her. And soon.

He opened Christine’s car door for her. She was so pretty in the soft clingy top that dipped enough to tease the eye. “Did I do okay once I caught my breath?” she asked, looking up at him in the moonlight.

“What do you think?” he said.

“God. Is that a shrink trick? Turning around the question? Okay, I’ll bite. I think I did pretty good.”

“I was watching David in the mirror when you defended him against Susan and his jaw dropped.”

“Really?”

“He clearly felt you were on his side there. The important thing was he felt heard. That means a lot.”

“So I did do good. Plus, he’s finishing school stuff, too.”

“Sounds like progress to me.”

“It does. Yeah.” She smiled. “Whatever you said to him out in the garden did the trick, I guess. So what
did
you say?”

“I told David that whatever he told me would stay between the two of us unless he wanted me to speak to you.”

“Sure, but if there’s something bad I should know—”

“Then I’ll ask his permission to tell you or urge him to talk to you about it himself.”

“God. You’re so ethical.” She was pretending to be annoyed. “Do you believe him about the pot not being his?”

“Do you?”

She groaned. “I don’t know what to believe. I’m afraid to believe. The drugs worry me the most, you know. He promised to stop, but I don’t know if he has. Or if I should make him take a drug test or what.”

“Drugs are part of the culture, Christine. He’ll face drug decisions the rest of his life. The best thing you can do is keep talking. Ask questions and really listen to his answers. How authoritarian or invasive you choose to be is up to you.”

“In other words, it all depends.” She sighed.

“I wish there were easy answers, but there never are when it counts.”

“No kidding. No one tells you how hard parenthood will be. I never know when to push, when to trust, when to hang on, when to let go.” She shook her hair off her shoulder. “I just want to do it the right way, you know?” Her eyes shone with urgency.

“There are lots of right ways, Christine.”

“And a million wrong ones.” She smiled wryly. “Want to sit and talk?” She motioned toward the porch. She was so eager he could hardly decline, so he followed her up the stairs. “How about a nightcap? I’ve got beer, I think,” she said.

“I’m fine, thanks. I managed to pry the bottle out of Winston’s hands long enough to get a glass.”

“Oh, you’re bad.” She grinned, then dropped into the hammock, kicking off her shoes as she lay against the stretchy expanse. She looked so good lying there.

Desire surged through him again, as it had all evening. The more he knew her, the more his attraction grew, which was not at all helpful.

He sat in a nearby rocking chair, caught by the sight of her calves tightening and releasing as she pushed the hammock back and forth. Damned pretty feet, too.

To end that thought, he lifted his gaze to the sky.

“So the endless black of the night sky doesn’t scare you, does it?” she asked.

“It makes me feel free.” As if he could disappear and no one would know or care.

“We’re different that way, I guess.”

“We’re different in lots of ways.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all. I find you…refreshing.”

“And annoying?”

“Not at all.”

“I’ll take that.” He enjoyed making her smile. In fact he found himself making mental notes of things that might amuse her all during the day.

As blunt and direct as she could be, he was relieved not to have to second-guess her emotions or coax out the truth as he’d had to do with Elizabeth.

“That was good what you said, Marcus. I mean pointing out that I was angry at Susan, too. And you didn’t even infuriate me telling me to take a breath. I promise you, the last thing an upset person wants to hear is ‘calm down.’”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. But coming from you, somehow, I don’t know, it works.” She surveyed him, head tilted. “I bet you were great with clients. What made you stop seeing them?”

“I needed a change and I was invited into the institute partnership where I could do the research I wanted.”

“Do you miss seeing patients?”

“At times. When it works, when you help people improve their lives, therapy can be very rewarding.”

“Maybe working with David will get you back into it.”

“I’m not
working
with David. We’re talking, that’s all.”

“You’re helping him and that’s what counts.”

“But I’m not his therapist. We need to be clear about that. David may benefit from a formal therapeutic relationship and you might want to pursue one here or back in Phoenix.”

“Calm down. I’m not going to sue you. You’re not exactly Dr. Optimistic, are you, Marcus?”

“You sound like Elizabeth. She considered me too negative.” He felt a stab of regret. “She wasn’t fond of hard truths.”

“Really?” She stopped the hammock’s sway with one toe. “What was she like anyway? Elizabeth.”

“I don’t see the point in getting into that.” But he knew full well Christine would not let that go, so before she could ask again, he answered her. “She is intelligent. Brilliant, really. She’s an administrator at the state health department. A serious person, quiet and thoughtful.”

“She sounds a lot like you.”

He smiled, but felt empty inside. “That’s what I believed. She seemed more self-sufficient than she turned out to be. She needed more support than I realized. I let her down in the end.”

“How? Did she blame you for Nathan? I know when a child dies marriages often fall apart. I know I’m being nosy.” She gave an apologetic laugh.

“I’m getting used to that,” he said, surprised to realize it was true. He felt less guarded with her since that night when they’d embraced. “To some degree, she blamed me. With a senseless death, it’s natural to want an explanation, to find reasons, to assign blame.” He blamed himself and always would.

“You said she couldn’t stand the sight of Lady…did she feel the same about you? Is that what went wrong?”

“It was a blow to our marriage, certainly, but the truth is I wasn’t the husband Elizabeth needed.”

You’re never really here, Marcus,
she’d said to him, her face ravaged by grief.
You’re always in your head, obsessing about your research, your blessed work. Do you even know how to be with another person?

“Simply put, she needed more than I had to give.”

“So you were wrong for each other?” Christine frowned, intent on understanding, it seemed, making sense of the senseless.

“I’m not sure I’d be right for anyone.” He gave a short laugh, surprised he’d confessed his deepest truth. “I’m not made for the kind of emotional engagement required by marriage.”

He should never have taken the chance with Elizabeth, no matter how alike they’d seemed. It had been cruel to her and Nathan.

Christine shook her head. “Oh, I don’t believe that, Marcus.” She sat up abruptly and leaned over to pat his arm. “The trauma you went through would mess up any marriage.”

“That’s kind of you, but—”

She laughed. “Who am I to talk? I’m no relationship expert.” She shook her head, her curls shivering across her shoulder, then threw herself back into the hammock, sending it flying. “My marriage to Skip was a disaster. I pick the wrong men and scare off the right ones.”

“Frankly, I’m amazed any relationship survives. There are so many crossed wires, misunderstood impulses and bad judgment calls that an enduring bond seems like a miracle.”

“Jesus, Dr. Optimist. You were smart not to go into marriage counseling.”

He laughed, surprised at how good-naturedly Christine had reacted to truths that gnawed at his core.

“So you’re skittish on marriage. How do you deal with sex? You don’t strike me as the booty-call type.” She stopped the hammock again and bore down on him. “I bet when you’re in, you’re
all
in. Am I right?”

He smiled. “Let’s just say I’m better off out.”

“Yeah, but everyone needs sex, Marcus.” She was teasing him, but his body was taking her very seriously.

“Including you?” he teased back.

She sighed, pushing off with that plump big toe of hers. “I work a lot. And there’s David.” She shrugged. “I’m all talk, no action.”

“Is that so?” He watched her sway back and forth, lying there looking so available. He had the urge to prove her wrong, prove them both wrong, lift her out of that hammock into his arms, take her to his bed and—

“Go for it,” she breathed.

He jolted. Had she read his mind? “Excuse me?”

“The hammock. Get in it. There’s room.” She patted the space beside her. “You look like you’re dying to try it. It feels good, like a great big body hug. You know you want to.” The words hit him low and she clearly knew it.

He should decline, of course, but she would never let him hear the end of it, so he got out of the chair and lowered himself into the curve of the hammock. It creaked under his weight as he lifted his legs and shifted more fully in place.

He wobbled, then rolled against Christine. “Sorry,” he said, attempting to retreat.

She stopped him. “Don’t be. It’s nice like this.”

It was. Dangerously so. The hammock held them together, swaying back and forth. Christine dipped her nose to his chest. “Mmm. You smell like lime and the woods and clean cotton.”

“And that’s…good?” he asked.

“Oh, yes….” She took an exaggerated sniff. “Very good.”

“You, uh, smell good, too,” he ventured. “Like spring.”

“I smell like spring? That’s a lovely thing to say.”

“I noticed it the first day.” He felt like an idiot and a kid saying that.

“You smelled me then?” She grinned. “That’s so sweet.”

He settled against her softness, aroused, but hoped it wasn’t evident. They were held, as if in the palm of a fabric hand. He settled into the physicality of the moment, the way she was pressed against the side of his body, her breast soft on his chest, her curls brushing his cheek, impossible to ignore.

After a bit, she rose on an elbow to look at him. “Anyway, I’m sorry we dragged you into that drama at Susan’s.”

“My only regret is missing the crème brûlee.”

She laughed. “How funny. Could you believe her saying right in front of Carmen that even though she was
only
Guatemalan, she had a
gift
for French cuisine. Gawd.”

“Carmen rolled her eyes when she said that.”

“She did? Oh, good for her. Then when Winston said he liked being mayor because it was an easy gig that didn’t interfere with his golf game, Susan gave that speech about how he’d sacrificed his big law practice in the city for a safe place to raise kids and so Susan could be near her family.”

“She did seem anxious to impress you.”

“I can’t believe I used to envy her.”

“You were young. She was popular.”

“But at least I grew up.” She stabbed his chest with a finger. “And, by the way, Susan was seriously
after
you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I thought she was going to slam you against a wall and unzip your jeans when we first got there.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Please.”

“Oh, yes. You were what’s for dinner, no question.”

“You’re exaggerating.” He found it tough to focus on their conversation, being so aware of her warmth beside him, the way her breasts shivered as she gestured, the weight of her leg.

“Of course. You’re the total package—hot, buff, smart, a successful doctor. Mainly, you’re not Winston.”

“Speaking of Winston, what was his excuse to get you to stop by his office?”

“Oh, some packet from a tourism convention about the trend toward ‘experience’ vacations—people who want to help build schools in Africa or work on a cattle ranch or an organic farm, instead of lounging around at the beach. Actually, a commune would have a lot of appeal with that market.”

“Well, grab the brochure and run, that’s all I’m saying. I recommend pepper spray.”

She laughed. Shifting her position, her elbow slipped and she fell on top of him.

“Easy,” he said, not sorry to have her body draped over his, her breasts against his chest, their legs overlapping.

“This is nice, huh?” she murmured, heat flaring in her eyes.

“Too nice.” He wanted her more than he remembered wanting a woman in a long, long time.

“Oh, what the hell,” she whispered and lowered her lips to his.

Her mouth was sweet and pliant and he deepened the kiss, as she moved fully over him, a blanket of soft, warm woman. This felt so good, like an escape from everything but pleasure.