The Escape Artist (26 page)

“They’re her friends,” Peggy said. “Of course they’d think that.”

“She did say that Susanna was pretty unassertive, though. A very passive sort of person. Certainly not the type to take the law into her own hands. She said no one at the bank could believe she’d leave like that, but they all…well, they all seem to think she did the right thing. Julie said that when their supervisor first told them Susanna had taken off, there was this stunned silence, and then everyone started cheering.”

“They cheered?” Peggy was incredulous.

Nancy nodded.

Peggy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “That’s crazy, but then, they’ve only heard Susanna’s side of things.”

“Well…” Nancy shrugged.

Peggy could tell that Nancy had more to say. “What else?” she asked.

“Well, it’s Julie’s opinion that Jim held himself above everyone at the bank. He’d never come to any of the bank parties or picnics or anything.”

Peggy shook her head. “He was probably too busy. Law school was incredibly demanding, and his job is even worse.”

Nancy nodded as though that explained everything, and Peggy said nothing to alter her thinking, but she knew in her heart there was some truth in Julie’s assessment. Jim
did
tend to see himself as superior to many people. It annoyed her sometimes, especially when he’d tell her she was wasting her skills working with the “sort of clients” she saw at Legal Aid. Right now, though, she felt a need to defend him.

“He can seem a little haughty sometimes,” she admitted, “but I think it’s because he worked so hard to get where he is.” She smiled at Nancy. “You still haven’t met him,” she said. “I don’t want your feelings about him tainted by other people before you’ve gotten to know him yourself.”

“Oh, I know,” Nancy said quickly. “And don’t worry, I’ll keep an open mind. To be honest, I felt uncomfortable talking to Julie about the whole situation, as though I were betraying you. And according to Julie, Susanna thought Jim was pretty great herself, at least until they broke up. She was really in love with him, I guess.” Nancy leaned over to pick up a piece of crumpled wrapping paper. “Everybody at the bank, though, is under the impression that you were having an affair with Jim while he was still married to Susanna,” she said. “I told Julie that was off the wall. It really got my back up. I hate people to think of you as a home wrecker.”

Peggy hadn’t thought about Susanna’s world of coworkers at the bank. It hadn’t occurred to her that they talked about her, that they saw her as the enemy. Even worse than imagining those conversations was the realization that they were not entirely “off the wall” in their thinking.

She tied the pink ribbon into a knot, then glanced across the room at Nancy. “I was seeing Jim for a while before he officially ended things with Susanna,” she said quietly. “But Jim’s marriage was really over by then.”

She spotted headlights in the driveway and knew Gary had returned from taking some of Renee’s friends home. She cursed his timing.

“Oh, Peg.” Nancy grimaced, disappointment in her face. “I wanted it to be a rumor. Something Susanna was making up.”

Gary suddenly walked in the front door. He shook his head at the mess, a smile on his bearded face. “I was hoping you two would have this place cleaned up by now,” he said. He sat down, oblivious to the tension that had worked its way into the room in the last few minutes. “Remember we have to sign that form for Renee to take to school tomorrow,” he said to Nancy.

Nancy nodded again, but her gaze was still on Peggy. She was probably wondering what it would be like to discover your husband was seeing another woman, Peggy thought. How much did she know? Had she heard about Susanna walking in on her and Jim? Nancy was probably viewing things from Susanna’s perspective for the first time, and now, with Gary in the room, there was little Peggy could say to change the direction of her thinking.

“Well, if you’re sure I can’t help, Nance, I’ll leave you two to clean-up duty.” Peggy got up from the chair. She walked to the closet near the front door for her coat, a pocket of shame burning in her chest.

“You were a hit with the kids, Peg,” Gary said as he leaned over to pick up a few pieces of wrapping paper. “They were all talking about becoming lawyers when I drove them home.”

Peggy was flattered in spite of herself, but she groaned. “I’m glad you have a few years to talk them out of it.” She slipped into her coat.

Nancy stood up to walk her to the door. “Thanks for helping out,” she said. “I don’t think I could have gotten through today without you.”

Peggy looked at her friend, wishing Gary were not in the room. She felt a desperate need to clear the air. “Seriously,” she said as she opened the door. “Let’s get together sometime soon. The four of us.”

Nancy touched her arm in what Peggy hoped was a gesture of understanding. “We’d love to,” she said.

Peggy walked out to her car, which was parked at the curb. She was remembering the last time she’d mentioned going out with Nancy and Gary to Jim. The first thing Jim had asked her is what sort of work the Currys did, and he had not seemed impressed that they were both teachers. “We wouldn’t have much in common with them,” he’d said. She wondered now if he’d been referring to interests or income.

She took a long, circuitous route home despite her tiredness. She needed time to think, time to cleanse herself of all disconcerting thoughts about Jim—and about herself—before she returned to Wonderland.

FORTY-TWO FAXES HAD ARRIVED
during the night.

Linc carried them from his studio to the breakfast room. He opened the shades, wincing against the Boulder sunshine, then sat down with a cup of coffee and his first cigarette of the day. He only had an hour before he had to leave for the university, but he figured he could get through most of the requests.

He began reading the faxes, chuckling over some of them, jotting requests on a notepad. There were a few excellent suggestions for songs he hadn’t played in quite a while, and a woman from Cleveland wanted him to do a profile of Donovan. Good idea. He made a note, then flipped to the next fax.

I’m writing from my place near the river
.

Did he know this person? Seemed like an odd way to start. He glanced down at the name.
S.T.U. Downe
. Weird. He read on.

I would appreciate it if you would play some of my favorite songs on your next show: “Desperado,” “Circle Around the Sun,” “Fire and Rain,” and “Suzanne.”

He looked out the window. Lit another cigarette. Then he turned to the fax again with a fresh eye.

Susanna. It had to be.

I’m writing from my place near the river…S.T.U. Downe
. He laughed out loud, shoving the other faxes aside to read this one through once more. Susanna was alive and well, and still in possession of her sense of humor.

The return line at the top of the fax listed a phone number with a 301 area code. He picked up the cordless phone from the table and dialed the operator.

“Could you tell me what state has the area code 301?” he asked.

“Maryland,” the operator said.

“And how about the 598 exchange?”

He heard the operator searching for the answer. “Rockville,” she said finally.

He hung up the phone and stared at the fax. Rockville. He’d been there once. It was near Washington, D.C. Not too far from the Potomac River. Was that the river Susanna was referring too? He doubted it. She wouldn’t put as much effort as she had into disappearing and then fax him from the very town in which she was living. But at least he now knew what part of the world she was in.

He was grinning like a fool as he drove to the university to teach his graduate class in American Folk Music. He felt energetic during the class itself, although he was planning next Sunday’s
Songs for the Asking
in his mind as he taught. His students picked up his good mood, if not his lack of concentration, and the classroom was filled with jokes and laughter. It felt like the old days, the before-Susanna-disappeared days, and he realized as he laughed along with his students that he’d been a pretty gloomy presence in the classroom this past month or so.

His students were probably wondering what had happened to alter his mood so dramatically, he thought. His personal life had always been fodder for their speculation. It was unavoidable; he was a public figure. People were intrigued by the fact that he’d spent time in prison, as well as by his radio persona. Susanna’s much-publicized disappearance only added to their interest. Like everyone else in Boulder, Linc’s students knew he’d been involved with her, and they also knew she’d taken her son and split town. None of his students had said anything to him about it, though. He wondered if they felt sorry for him, or if, perhaps, they thought he knew more than he did. A few of his female students—more than the usual number—were taking advantage of the situation, coming on to him, hanging around him after class. One of them even called him a couple of nights ago, ostensibly to discuss an assignment. Word was out: Linc Sebastian was available. Now he needed to get word out that Linc Sebastian wasn’t interested.

He drove directly home after his class and spent the rest of the afternoon in his library, carefully selecting music for the show he would tape the following afternoon. He was not going to play the songs Susanna had requested, at least not at the beginning of the show. Instead, he was going to send her a message. He would have to reach far outside the type of music he usually played, and he would probably take some flak for it, both from listeners as well as from the powers that be, but he didn’t care. He could get away with it once.

He deliberated for hours over what he would say to her, poring over tapes and CDs and his own scribbled notes. He wished he could tell her what was going on in Boulder. He wanted to let her know how aggressively Jim and Peggy were looking for her. And he wanted to chastise her for risking the fax. Yet, he was extremely glad she did.

The phone rang as he was finishing dinner that night.

“All right,” Grace said, by way of greeting. “I’ve found the perfect woman for you.”

“Pass,” he said.

“Well, I’ve warned her you’re a bit burned at the moment, but that doesn’t mean the two of you can’t at least have a cup of coffee together. See how you hit it off.” She hesitated at his silence. “Can I tell you about her?” she asked.

“I’d rather hear about your last root canal, Gracie. Honest.”

“You could at least go out with all three of us,” Grace said. “Fran—that’s her name—and Val and me. Would that make it easier for you? Safety in numbers?” She didn’t give him a chance to respond. “How about tomorrow night.”

“Gee, I’d love to, but that’s the night I scrub the grout in my bathroom.”

There was a moment of loaded silence from Grace’s end of the line. “You win,” she said finally. “I give up. Aren’t you relieved?”

“Uh huh.”

Grace launched into a description of the party she and Valerie had attended the night before. Linc half listened. He wanted to tell her about Susanna’s fax, but knew he couldn’t. The fax was something he would have to keep forever to himself.

After getting off the phone, he took Sam for a long walk up and down the hilly, winding streets around his house and then went to bed early. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, but sleep was not was he was after. He wanted uninterrupted time to think about Susanna.

In a way, this past month had reminded him of his four years in prison. He’d thought of Susanna constantly then, yet she’d been out of his reach, as she was now. For those few months before his incarceration, Linc’s feelings about Susanna had undergone a dramatic shift. He’d stopped thinking of her as the needy, gawky little girl next door. Instead, she had quite suddenly become a talented, beautiful young woman in his eyes.

He was working as a gofer in a radio station, but his band still met in his garage on weekends, with Susanna their artist in residence. Susanna had wanted more though, and she finally asked Linc if he would pose alone for her. “Fully clothed,” she’d assured him, and he’d laughed, the alternative being unimaginable. He’d agreed, and he’d sit for hours in her bedroom—when her parents were out—while she’d sketch him. They did a lot of talking, their conversations on a deeper level than ever before.

“Why don’t you go out with anyone?” he asked her from his perch on the edge of her bed. Only recently had he realized she was old enough, interesting enough, for someone to want to take her out.

“I do go out,” she said, her hand working rapidly above her sketchbook. “But I do it on the sly. Do you think I’d want to bring some guy home to meet my parents?”

He was instantly, painfully, jealous. “Who?” he asked. “Who are you going out with?”

“You don’t know them,” she said.

“Well, have you…you know, had sex with anyone?” He couldn’t stomach the thought of her being that intimate with someone, especially some guy he didn’t even know.

Her head darted up. “None of your business,” she said.

He felt himself color. “I’m just asking to make sure you know about protection. You know, birth control.” He knew she wouldn’t get that sort of information from her parents, and he told himself he was only interested in her safety. But in reality, he simply had to know.

“I’m not doing it, nosy,” she said, returning her attention to her sketch, but only for a moment. “And what about you?” She looked at him from beneath her pale bangs.

“Well, of course. I’m twenty-two, for Christ’s sake.” He’d first had sex at her age, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.

“Who with?” Her eyes were riveted once again on her sketchbook, but her hand was barely moving.

“That’s personal.”

“Rosie?” she asked. “Tammi?”

“Yes.”

“
Both
of them?”

“Yes, but they don’t know about each other, so keep your trap shut.”

She was quiet for a minute. “Well, I think Nigel’s kind of interested in me,” she said finally. Nigel was the new bass player in Linc’s band, and he was indeed interested.

“I don’t like the idea of you with him,” he said.