The Consequences (18 page)

Robert rested his forehead against the chill glass. He knew that. Even when he had been making his New Year's plans, that was always at the back of his thoughts: Kathy loved him.

“So, I take it you haven't talked to either Kathy or Stephanie about this plan?”

“Not yet. Stephanie . . . Stephanie vanished after our encounter yesterday. I nearly drove myself crazy trying to find her—including driving out to her house in the middle of the night—but I managed to speak to her this morning. She's at her parents' home.”

“I thought she was spending Christmas in Boston?”

“That was the plan, until Kathy ended up on her doorstep. Apparently when we left she decided she wasn't going to stay here on her own and managed to book herself a flight to Wisconsin.”

“Ah, shite. The Midwest in the winter. It must be feckin' freezing. Might as well go back to Dublin.” Jimmy shifted uncomfortably in the bed. “You know, once you even hint to Kathy that you're still interested in Stephanie, she'll throw you out.”

“I know.”

“So you need to be very, very sure of yourself and, even more important, very sure of Stephanie's reaction before you do anything drastic. You shouldn't be even thinking about this right now. Emotionally, you're all over the place: Your affair has been discovered; it's Christmas; you're worried about Stephanie . . . and of course, now I've fetched up in the middle of it all, just to add another layer of complication to the situation. Please, please, please, make no decisions. Give yourself a little time; put a little distance between you and these events.”

“There's another problem. . . .” Robert looked over his shoulder. He could just about make out the shape of Jimmy Moran lying in the bed. In the gray half-light, Jimmy's eyes were glittering brightly. “Stephanie thinks she may be pregnant.”

“Ah, Jayzus, Bob, and you tell me my life is a mess!”

Robert moved away from the window and started pacing up and down the small room. “Stephanie called me today. . . .” A sudden thought struck him, and he stopped. “Could I ask you a favor?”

“Anything,” Jimmy said immediately.

“If you're talking to Kathy and she asks if you called the house today, would you say yes? When Stephanie called earlier, I said it was you.”

“I'll tell her,” Jimmy said slowly.

“Stephanie's on her way home. She wants to talk to me about the child. Make plans.”

“What sort of plans?” Jimmy's voice was an exhausted murmur.

“I don't know. I doubt she'll want to keep it. I'm not even sure she'll want to carry it full-term.”

“Sit down, for Christ's sake,” Jimmy's voice snapped. “You're making me dizzy.” Robert returned to the chair by the bed, and Jimmy reached out to grab his arm. “Now, listen to me. I've never steered you wrong before, have I?”

“Never.”

“Tell Kathy about the baby.”

“Tell Kathy!”

“I didn't tell Angela that Frances was pregnant. That was the single biggest mistake I made. She could forgive me everything else, but not that. Tell Kathy. She needs to be involved now.”

“I can't.” Even the thought of it was unimaginable.

“If you don't tell her and she finds out—and she will find out—then you're finished.”

“But, Jimmy, I want to finish with her.”

“What! Why?” Jimmy demanded.

“Because . . .” Robert began.

“Does she still love you?” Jimmy interrupted.

“Yes, yes, she says she does.”

“Did she go to Stephanie's to fight for you?

“Yes.”

“And did she offer to take you back?”

“Yes.”

“Then, don't be a feckin' eeijet. You want to walk away from a woman who loves you, from an eighteen-year marriage, a business you've spent the same number of years building up, a beautiful home, two gorgeous children . . . for what?”

“For Stephanie,” Robert said quietly.

“Tell me what Stephanie's ever done for you—besides bringing some jobs to the business and the sex, of course.”

There was a long moment of silence, then Robert said, “She makes me feel good about myself.”

“Bobby, only you can make you feel good about yourself. Let me tell you from bitter experience, the sex is never as good when you're living with the person. Nothing beats the thrill of an illicit liaison. You've told me she's not going to be able to put any more business your way for the moment, and once you're a couple, that door is completely closed.” He stopped and started to cough, deep racking barks that doubled him over in pain. “If you leave Kathy,” he gasped, his breath coming in painful heaves, “you'll lose it all: wife, children, and home, and maybe the business too. Maureen will walk; she's more loyal to Kathy than she is to you. You'll be left with nothing. Trust me; this is one subject in which I am an expert.”

Jimmy's affairs were legendary. Robert had realized a long time ago that Jimmy genuinely loved women, and, like most men, he enjoyed the thrill of the chase even more than the capture. Robert couldn't help but wonder if Jimmy's attitude toward affairs had colored his own mindset when he'd entered into his relationship with Stephanie. Robert remembered being almost shocked that he'd not experienced more pangs of conscience.

“Please rest, Jimmy,” Robert said, becoming alarmed by the sound of Jimmy's cough. “Please. I'll think about everything you've said. I promise. Just relax now.”

“Give me some water.”

Robert poured a glass of water and held it to Jimmy's lips.

“Thanks.”

“I won't make any drastic decisions, I promise. You've given me a lot to think about. As always,” he added, attempting to smile.

“Kathy loves you,” Jimmy murmured. “She's shocked, upset, confused. Telling her about the baby isn't going to be as big a blow as you might think. Be honest with her now. Tell her everything.”

“I will,” Robert said quickly. He would promise Jimmy anything now, just to calm him down.

“Good lad.” Jimmy laughed. “You know, maybe I will go into partnership with you next year. You could be my junior partner.”

“Hey—not so much of the junior!”

“I think I'd like that.” Jimmy's voice was fading as he drifted into sleep. “Been alone for too long. We'd make a great team.” His fingers were cool as he squeezed Robert's hand. “Don't make my mistakes, Bob. Don't walk away from a woman who loves you. . . .”

It took Robert a few minutes before he realized that Jimmy Moran was never going to speak again.

CHAPTER 32

S
aturday, 28th December

 

 

 

“It's time to go.”

Robert Walker was sitting on the edge of the small bed in his study, tying his shoelaces. His wife was standing in the doorway, wearing her heavy black down coat.

“I didn't think it was that late,” he muttered.

“The roads will be icy,” Kathy reminded him. “We should leave a little early. The kids have decided to stay here,” she added. “They didn't really know Jimmy all that well. I think it's just as well.”

Robert straightened. “Yes, yes, of course,” he said distractedly. “I spoke to Lloyd, the brother in Australia, a couple of hours ago. He's not going to make it over for the funeral. He can't get the time off.”

“That's a shame.”

“Yes, but at least Mikey and Teddy will be here. I think Jimmy would have liked that.”

Kathy stopped him at the door and brushed at the collar of his black suit, then straightened his tie. “I think Jimmy would be very proud with everything that you've done for him over the past two days,” she said. Then she turned and headed down the stairs.

Robert followed more slowly, realizing that this was the first time she'd voluntarily touched him since she'd slapped him across the face on Christmas Eve on Tuesday. It felt like a lifetime ago.

It was. He sighed. It was a different lifetime entirely.

 

Later, when Robert Walker would try to make sense of the days immediately following Jimmy Moran's death, everything would shift and blur into a kaleidoscope of events. Trying to decide what really happened and what he imagined happened became impossible—and there were whole swathes of time for which he had no memory.

He remembered sitting in the hospital room holding the man's cooling hand in both of his, face pressed against the sheets, and weeping, not only for the friend he'd lost, but for the father he'd never known. Jimmy Moran had had such an influence upon so many areas of his life, good and bad. It was Jimmy who taught him about the business; it was Jimmy's enthusiasm and confidence that had encouraged Robert to take a risk and establish his own company. But it was also Jimmy who introduced him to excessive drinking, who used him as an alibi for his various affairs, and who had, in an odd way, even enabled him to have his affair with Stephanie.

Robert remembered being roused by a young nurse around midnight and then ushered out of the room. Nurses ran in and out, and then a doctor he'd never seen before had ambled into the room and reappeared a couple of moments later, to tell Robert the lie that he was “sorry.”

Robert had no idea how he got home.

None.

Later, much later, he would find a long scrape along the side of the car, but he'd no idea how he'd gotten it or what he'd hit. One moment he was brushing his car clean of snow outside the hospital in the early hours of the morning . . . and the next he was turning into the driveway in Brookline . . . and the hall door was opening . . . and Kathy was standing waiting for him . . . and even without his saying a word, she knew what had happened. He desperately wanted her to take him into her arms, but she made no effort, and pride and shame and exhaustion ensured that he made no move either. He walked past her with just two words, “He's dead,” and then climbed the stairs to his office, kicked off his shoes and dropped his jacket on the floor, fell into his chair, and was asleep immediately.

The next forty-eight hours were filled with the confusion of trying to contact Jimmy's family, such as it was. Angela was quite happy to allow Robert to make all the arrangements, and Frances was purposefully unavailable. He managed to find an address for Mikey Moran, the eldest brother, living in Vancouver. From him he got addresses for Teddy in New York and Lloyd living on the outskirts of Sydney. Mikey and Teddy immediately promised they would get home, if he could delay the funeral for a few days, but Lloyd could not give an immediate answer; he worked with the fire service and was on call over the New Year's holiday.

Robert made all the arrangements: choosing the funeral parlor, finding a church that would hold the service, picking the coffin, and arranging for Jimmy to be buried in Forest Hills Cemetery. With Angela's permission, Robert went to the apartment in the North End and found Jimmy's best black Armani suit and a white silk shirt and then chose a hand-painted Hermès tie, which Robert had given Jimmy for a Christmas present the previous year. He'd never seen Jimmy wear it.

When Robert had returned home from the funeral parlor on Friday night, he found that Kathy had set up a bed in his office so that he wouldn't have to sleep in his office chair for another night. His black suit, a pale blue shirt, and a black tie had been laid out over the back of the chair.

 

“Thank you,” Robert said suddenly. He gunned the engine and turned the heaters to full, clearing the windshield.

Kathy glanced sidelong at him.

“For the bed . . . and getting the suit . . .”

“I thought you had enough to worry about.”

“Well, thanks anyway. And thank you for coming with me.”

“I knew Jimmy, I liked him even though he was a rogue, and I wanted to pay my respects. And I also want to support you.”

Robert nodded, unwilling to trust himself to speak. He pulled on a pair of sunglasses. The sky was cloudless, and though the thin sunshine shed no heat, it sparkled and reflected off the banked snow and frozen water.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

Robert concentrated on driving down the ice-locked road, conscious of the cars on either side of him. All he needed now was to sideswipe a neighbor's car to make this the perfect Christmas. “I'm a bit numb,” he admitted finally when he reached the end of the road, which was glittering damply, sandy grit sparkling on the black Tarmac. “Do you know,” he said suddenly, “I've known Jimmy for more than twenty-five years. Nearly half my life.”

“He was at our wedding,” Kathy reminded him. “That's where you introduced me to him.”

“I don't remember that,” he admitted.

“I do.”

“There were times when I'd see him every day for a month . . . and then I wouldn't talk to him for weeks. But every time we met up again, it was as if we'd never been apart.”

“There were times when I used to envy your relationship with him. I was just glad that he wasn't a woman,” said Kathy, stopping abruptly, realizing what she'd said.

“Funny that, isn't it?” Robert said quietly. “A man can have a very close friendship with another man, and no one cares, but if it's with a woman, there are all sorts of questions raised.”

“I used to think that a man and a woman could have a purely platonic relationship,” Kathy said. “Now . . . now, I'm not so sure.”

Robert carefully negotiated the traffic circle, feeling the back of the heavy car shift on the gritty road, and headed out toward the Boston funeral parlor where Jimmy Moran's body had been laid out. “And yet Jimmy had a string of female friends who were never his lovers. He used to say that once both sides realized that sex was never going to be an issue, a real friendship could develop.”

“And what do you think?” Kathy asked.

“I don't know,” he said truthfully. “Outside of business, I know very few women socially.”

“Except your mistress!” Kathy snapped. She finally broke the long silence that followed. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring that up today of all days. I know you're grieving. I'll respect that.”

They drove in silence for a while, then Robert spoke. “I know we haven't had a chance over the past few days to talk about what happened.”

“We'll talk about it when this is all over,” Kathy said firmly. “I'm thinking we should go for couples' counseling.”

Robert frowned. “I'm not sure I want to let strangers know our business. . . .”

“I'm not going to fight with you about this,” Kathy said firmly. “It's not optional. If you want to stay with me—if we want to stay together—then we have to start again. I want us to go to therapy and work through those issues that drove us apart.”

“Work drove us apart,” Robert snapped. “Me, working all hours God sent to pay the mortgage and put food on the table. If it comes right down to it, that was the only issue. If you had been a little more involved with the business—a little more involved with me—you would have known that.”

“Are you implying this is my fault?”

“I'm not implying anything,” Robert snapped. “This whole sorry mess is entirely of my making. I put my hand up. I accept it.” He took a deep breath, attempting to calm the bubble of rage that threatened to burst. “Let's talk about it in a day or two,” he said, finally, quietly.

They drove the rest of the way to the funeral parlor without speaking.