Season of Passion (32 page)

Tygue loved his new school, and the show was going well. Even Kate's new book was progressing nicely. She was sure she would finish it before Christmas. And A Final Season was already in its fifth printing.

You know, I can't get over this place.' Felicia was their first dinner guest. She sat down in the living room after dinner and looked around. Some of us just happen to hit it lucky oft the first try. Or the second, but she didn't say that She looked warmly at Nick. You've managed to accomplish in a couple of months what I couldn't push the kid into in almost seven years. Mr. Waterman, hats off. She smiled at Nick and he executed a neat bow. Their affection was mutual. He liked what she did for Kate, the way she had stood by her for so long.

Nick grew serious for a minute. I think she was just ready to come out of her shell.

Come out? I was blasted out.

Felicia concealed a grin with another sip of her coffee. Even their belongings had combined well to make a home., Felicia looked around, and shared another smile with Nick, and then he glanced at his watch.

Ladies, with deepest regrets, I'm afraid I'll have to leave you. They had eaten dinner early so he could get to the taping on time. The girls were going to stay home and chat. I'll be back after nine. Stick around, Licia. We can play poker or something when I get home. Or I'll take you two out for a drink.

I'll take a raincheck, love. I've got half a dozen early meetings tomorrow. It'll really be a bitch of a day. I don't hang around in bed till noon the way you two do.

The hell I do. I spend half my life car-pooling Tygue and his pals around here.

Oh you do. Nick arched an eyebrow and she laughed guiltily.

All right, all right. I'll do it next week, I swear.

Kate Harper, you are spoiled. Felicia looked at her in amazement. Nick even car-pools for you? Kate nodded guiltily, but with a grin. Jesus. You don't deserve the gold mine you got. She looked at her friend in mock horror, but Kate's happiness was exactly what she had longed to see for years. And this new living situation obviously suited Kate perfectly. Just enough domesticity and just enough sparkle.

Nick hugged Felicia and kissed Kate, and they heard the Ferrari pull out a moment later after he had gone upstairs to say good night to Tygue, who was playing with Felicia's train in the spare room.

Is there anything that man doesn't do for you, Kate? Felicia looked over at her, sitting peacefully at the other end of the brown velvet couch.

Nothing I can think of. She looked totally content. I know. I'm spoiled rotten.' But he wasn't all teddy bear either. They had their moments and their fights, but she liked that about him too.

You deserve it, love. He's really an extraordinary man. And then after a pause, she looked up with a question in her eyes, and Kate looked away. He still doesn't know, does he? I mean about Tom. But Kate had known what she meant. She looked up at her and shook her head, with a look of pain and sorrow. Have you stopped going? She hoped ' she hoped ' but she didn't get her wish. Kate shook her head again and sighed.

Of course not. I can't stop going. How could I stop? What could I say? I'm leaving you now. I've found someone else.' You don't say that to a seven-year-old boy. You don't walk out on him. You don't stop, Licia. You can't. I'll never stop as long as he's alive.

Will you tell Nick?

I don't know. She closed her eyes for a moment and then looked at the fire. I don't know. I guess I should. But I don't know how. Maybe in time.

You'll have to, if this goes on for a long time. Where does he think you go?

To teach.

Doesn't he get sick of that? I mean, all the way to Carmel to teach is pushing it a little, isn't it?

Kate nodded again. I just don't have any choice.

You don't want to have a choice. I think he'd understand.

But what if he didn't, Felicia? He wants to get married, to have children, to have a normal life. How can you have a normal life living with a married woman? A woman who's married to a seven-year-old physical and emotional cripple? What if I tell him and he decides it's too much for him? She closed her eyes for a moment at the thought.

And you think not telling him would change that, Kate? What if he finds out eventually? What if he presses you about getting married? What if you tell him in five years, or two years, or ten years? What do you think he'll say then? He has a right to know the truth.' And so did Tygue. She had thought so on and oft for years. Now and then she had been wooed by Kate's insistence that not telling Tygue had been the right decision, but in her gut she had always thought that the boy might be better off if he knew. But she wasn't going to tackle that one with Kate again. And if only Nick knew, he could help Kate deal with the issue of telling Tygue. I think you're playing with dynamite by not telling him. You're also not showing a lot of faith in him, and you're not being very ballsy.

My, my, that's quite a speech, Licia.

I'm sorry, Kate. But I think it needs to be said, before you make a big mistake.

All right. I'll see.

Doesn't he ask you about Carmel?

Sometimes. But I cut him off.

You can't cut him off forever, Kate. And why should you? It's not fair. Look what he's doing for you, what he's giving you, how much he loves you. You owe him the truth.

All right, Licia, all right. Just let me work it out for myself. She stood up and walked to the fire with her back to her friend. She didn't want to hear it She knew that Licia was right. She did have to tell him. Eventually. But not yet. And Licia was also right that she couldn't stall him forever. She was already getting nervous about the days she went away. She had tiptoed downstairs three days before, hoping he wouldn't be up. But he had been. And she had hated the act she had put on as she left.

How often do you go? Felicia, as usual, wouldn't let up.

Same as always. Twice a week. And with a sigh she realized that she was going again the next day. Maybe Nick would sleep late.

She closed the door as the car pool rounded the corner, A last wave just before the little blond head in the back seat disappeared from sight, and Tygue was off to his day. And she to hers. She walked softly into the kitchen for a last sip of her coffee. She didn't want to wake Nick.

You look awfully done up for a foggy Tuesday morning. He looked at her from the large kitchen table and she jumped.

Hi, darling. I didn't know you were up. She tried to sound light as she bent to kiss him. Want some coffee? He nodded. Eggs?

No, thanks. I'll make my own when I can open my eyes. You teaching again?

She nodded, looking into the coffee she was pouring.

Your schedule seems to vary a lot. There was something strange in his voice. An accusation. A suspicion. Something she didn't like. She looked up at him, but she couldn't quite tell what it was. Last week you went Monday and Thursday. Didn't you?

I guess so. I don't know. She poured in the two sugars he liked and busied herself at the sink.

Come here a minute.

Her heart was pounding, but she tried to think empty thoughts as she turned toward him. She didn't want him to see anything, know anything ' know she was lying. She stood looking at him, but there was no smile in his eyes.

Why won't you tell me what you really do down there?

Are you serious?

Very. And he looked it. Her heart only beat faster and seemed to fill her ears.

I told you. I teach retarded children and adults.

Can't you find something comparable in the city? Surely San Francisco has lots of retarded kids who'd love you. Why Carmel? And why not the truth, dammit? Why?

I've been going there for years. That much he knew.

While you were married?

No. And then there was a strange silence and she looked hard at him again. What difference does that make?

I don't know, Kate. Maybe I should ask you that.

What the hell difference does it make, dammit? I don't bother you. I leave at eight, I'm back at five. Sometimes four-thirty. It doesn't take anything away from you. She was angry now, and frightened. She had never seen him look like that before.

It does take something away from me, Kate. He looked at her in a way that shriveled her soul. It was a cold, angry look. It takes you away.

For a few lousy hours? Christ, she owed Tom that much. He had no right to '

Have you ever looked in the mirror when you get back? She stared at him silently. You look like a ghost. You look haunted and hurt and tired and sad. Why do you do that to yourself? He found himself staring at her even harder, but found no answers. Never mind. It's none of my business. She said nothing, but walked out of the kitchen. She should have gone to him, hugged him, kissed him. She knew it. It would have been smarter. But she didn't want to be smart. And she didn't want to be pushed. She wasn't going to tell him until she was ready to, if ever. And she would never let him stop her from going. Those two days a week were sacred. They were Tom's.

I'll see you at five. She said it from the front door, with her eyes closed, wanting to go to him, but afraid he'd do something to stop her from going, or worse, force the truth out of her. Why the hell did he have to wake up? It was so easy when he was asleep. She hesitated a moment and then spoke again. I love you. She heard him walk softly out of the kitchen and into the dining room. He stood there with the Bay at his back and looked at her for what felt like an eon.

Do you, Kate?

You know I do. She walked slowly toward him and took him into her arms. Darling, I love you so much.

There was a long pause as his arms held her too, and then he pulled away.

Then tell me about Carmel. He almost prayed that she would. God, how long could he go on pretending not to know. But Kate only looked at him, with wide sorrowful eyes.

We've already talked about Carmel, Nick, Her eyes never left his.

Have we? Then why don't I feel more comfortable about your going there? What else could he say, dammit? Jesus, if she'd only give him an opening.

There's nothing for you to worry about.

Isn't there, Kate? Wouldn't it worry you if I went somewhere every week without telling you more about it than you tell me?

She was silent for a moment and then she looked away. But I tell you about it, Nick. You know why I go. She tried desperately to sound soothing.

His eyes held a penetrating quality she didn't understand. He wanted to tell her that he did know. He felt almost compelled to tell her, but he couldn't. He had to hear it from her. She had to want to tell him. Never mind, forget it. Have a nice day. He wheeled around then and walked back toward the kitchen, as she stood there wondering if she should run after him. But she couldn't. He wanted answers that she was not yet ready to give him.

She walked out the door and to the car, but she felt as though she were dragging chains around her feet Should she go? Should she stay? Did she owe him an explanation? Should she tell him the truth? What if he left her? What if ' and then, as she started the car, she forced him from her mind. She owed the trip to Tom, she owed him these visits, these days ' but did she owe it to him to lose Nick? The thought made her step on the brakes and think for a minute. Was she really playing for those kinds of stakes? Could Felicia be right? Could she lose Nick if she didn't tell him and he eventually found out?

Shit. She muttered the word to herself as she let herself gently into the traffic outside their house. She just couldn't tell him yet Not yet' but maybe soon.

It was pouring as she drove back to San Francisco from Carmel. Where was all this gorgeous October weather Felicia always talked about? Christ, it had been raining for days. It had rained the last three times she had gone there. It was even raining in Carmel. And the rain was so hard on Tom. He looked so pale now, and he wasn't eating well. There was a lost quality about him lately, like a tired sick child hatching some terrible illness. He would hold her hand for hours and beg her for stories, looking at her with those eyes that seemed to see her, really see her, but never did. Those eyes still remembered nothing. And the arms still reached out for her as he called out Katie the way Tygue shouted Mom. He seemed so helpless now though. He had been this way for so long, and something about him seemed to be slipping away. The teasing was gone. The laughter had dimmed. Mr. Erhard looked concerned too. But the director of Mead said it was normal. Normal' what the hell was normal about a man who thought like a child? A man who had once been so alive and had now lived in a wheelchair playing with paper airplanes for seven years? But the doctor insisted that people in Tom's condition did fade from time to time, and eventually, one day ' but that could be years away. In the meantime, he could have these spells and still rally, as long as one kept his interest up and challenged him. Although, the director admitted, that didn't always change things. He admitted, too, that Tom might have these spells more and more frequently over the next years, until the end. It was neurological, and inevitable, but it wasn't acute. And she didn't understand it any better than anything else that had happened in the past seven years. Whatever it was, Tom hadn't been right for almost a month. And she could sense that Nick wanted her to stop going to Carmel. Christ. She sighed as she drove off the freeway onto Franklin Street. It was going to be good to get home. She was so tired. And thank God Nick hadn't been up when she left that morning. She had been getting up earlier for the past two weeks, in order to avoid him. And she was making special efforts to keep his mind off her trips to Carmel.

She turned left on Green Street and followed it west until she almost reached the Presidio, then unexpectedly she swooped up a narrow, curved, brick-paved street, and there, hidden amidst the sculptured landscape, concealed by the hedges, trees, and bushes, nestled their house. After little more than a month in it, she already loved it more than any house she had ever lived in, maybe because she was so happy there.

She let herself into the house with a sigh of relief. It was only four-twenty. Tygue was at his special art class, and would be delivered by the car pool at four forty-five. She had just made it. And the Ferrari had been nowhere in sight. Safe. No explanations, no excuses, no little bits of chatter to cover up the worry and the pain. It was always so hard confronting Nick after all that. He hated it too. And he always saw too much. She slipped off her wet shoes and left them on a mat in the front hall. She hung up her umbrella in the kitchen, and then with another sigh she sat down at the kitchen table, and rested her head on her arms.