Warm Hearts (49 page)

So he was like the rest, she decided, though she felt no elation at having discovered his fault. “That's noble,” she murmured.

“Not noble. Just practical.” His eyes pierced her shell of cynicism. His voice held conviction. “I want a wife … and a family. I want to be able to support them well, to have a nice home, to travel, to take them to fine restaurants and the theater, to buy them gifts. I've been saving money for the last ten years, investing it, reinvesting dividends. The way I figure it, another seven or eight years should do it. Then I will be able to accept a full-time position at a hospital, either Bellevue or another, without denying my family … or myself.”

For a minute Leslie had nothing to say. He'd been blunt. And honest. She couldn't believe that he would have risked evoking what he knew to be her distaste for the calculated amassing of money had what he said not been the truth. To her amazement, she respected him.

“Tell me about your family, Oliver,” she said with a new note of interest in her voice.

And he did. He told her of his parents and sister, of their modest roots and the relative comfort they'd finally achieved. Over thick steaks and hearty salads, he told her of his college years, inspiring laughter and sympathy in turn.

That weekend, over dinner at a more elegant restaurant in the city, he told her more about his work, outlining a day in his life, amusing her with the zaniest of his cases.

The following Tuesday, as they sat, heads together, in a dim theater waiting for the movie to begin, he told her about his experience as an expert witness in criminal cases and about the book he hoped to write.

The Saturday after that, strolling arm in arm with her through a sprawling suburban shopping mall, he told her about his few good friends, his addiction to tennis, his dream to one day charter a boat and cruise the Mediterranean.

And the next Monday he insisted on taking her to the reception her sister Brenda was throwing to commemorate the debut of the Parish Corporation's home-computer system. Leslie hadn't wanted to go. Receptions such as these, to which only the shiniest of brass and the biggest and most promising of clients were invited, bored her to tears. Between Brenda and Oliver, however, she hadn't stood a chance. As it happened, with Oliver by her side through the entire ordeal, it wasn't all that bad. Indeed, the only awkward moment came when, as a couple amid several hundred, they ran into Diane and Brad. Diane seemed stunned, then embarrassed, then plainly nervous in their presence; Oliver handled the encounter with grace and tact. As for Leslie, she pushed the confrontation from her mind the instant they left the hall.

All in all, she was so in love with Oliver that she was ready to burst. He'd been so open, so gentle, so very obviously honest that she simply couldn't doubt him any longer.

She was also extremely frustrated. Through the warm, casual getting-to-know-Oliver days, he never once repeated his words of love. After each date he'd drop her back at her house with a tender smile, perhaps even an affectionate hug, an extension of the hand-holding and elbow-hooking they did all the time. But though he had to have known she'd be more than willing, he didn't kiss her. Though her body seemed to ache endlessly for him, he showed no inclination to make love. And his words, other than to say that he'd call, were noncommittal.

Oh, he did call. Every night he called just to talk, to hear how her day had been, to tell her about his own. There were times when he was tired, when she could hear the fatigue in his voice, when it was her pleasure to be able to hear out his tale of woe, to commiserate, to soothe.

But he didn't say he loved her. And, fearing the breach of that last bastion, she said nothing.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi.”

“Good day?”

“Mmm. Busy. Three kids got sick and had to be sent home. Two of them needed rides to relatives without cars, so guess who drove. I did interview that woman for next fall, though. She's lovely.”

“Think she'll be good with the kids?”

“She seemed it. I let her cover for me while I played chauffeur, then when I got back I was able to watch her in action. She's very warm.”

“What's her background?”

“She just got a degree in special ed.”

“No work experience?”

“Yeah. Six children of her own. Hey, how're
you
doing?”

“Not bad.”

“Come on. You can do better than that. I thought the head banger at the hospital quieted down?”

“He did. A new one's into tap dancing.”

“Tap dancing? You've got to be kidding.”

“I'm not. Listen, babe. About the weekend. Should we, uh, should we try for the Berkshires again?”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes! But only if you do.”

“I do.”

“Good. Six on Friday?”

“Make it six-fifteen—I'm superstitious.”

“Six-fifteen. I'll see you then.”

“Sure thing. Bye-bye.”

*   *   *

They nearly made it. It was five-thirty when he called. His voice was as tense as she'd ever heard it. She instantly knew that something was very wrong.

“What is it, Oliver?”

“I've got a problem here. I may be late.”

“You're at the office?” She could always pick him up there.

“No.”

“At the hospital?”

“No.”

He'd been so forthright in the past weeks. His evasion only fueled her concern. “What's wrong?”

In other circumstances, Oliver would have simply named a later time when he'd pick her up. But he knew all too well that his tenuous relationship with Leslie was based largely on openness. “It's Diane, Les,” he offered quietly. “She's acting up again.”

“Oh, no! What's she doing?”

“It's all right, sweetheart. She's just being … difficult.”

“You're there now?”

“Yes. Listen, this may take a while. Why don't I call you when I have some idea what's happening.”

“Oliver—”

“Please, Les,” he begged, “no more questions now. I've been looking forward to tonight since … since St. Barts. And if you think I'm pleased with Diane's sense of timing, you're crazy.” She heard his desperation. “Let me call you?”

“Okay.”

“And Leslie?”

“Mmm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

There was a pause, then Oliver's broken, “I'll call.”

With tears in her eyes, Leslie hung up the phone. He'd sounded awful. What could possibly have happened?
I love you
, he had said. And she'd answered him with total openness for the first time herself.

Likewise, for the first time, she felt no confusion at all. Suddenly everything Oliver had said and done made sense. She believed him. She trusted him. And she knew precisely what she wanted to do.

Within half an hour she arrived at Diane's. To her dismay, the driveway was packed. She recognized the Weitzes' cars, Tony's car, Oliver's car … was that Brenda's car? She bit her lip as she pulled in behind one she didn't recognize. What was going on?

A frazzled Brenda opened the door. “Leslie! What are you—”

“What are
you
doing here?”

“I'm … I'm trying to help out.”

Leslie strode past her into the hall and dropped her coat on a chair. Keeping her voice low, she looked around. “Where are they? What's she done? Why wasn't I called?” At the sound of raised voices in the living room, she headed that way.

“Leslie, please—” Brenda tried to stop her but it was too late. No sooner had Leslie appeared on the threshold than every eye turned her way.

What she saw, perplexingly enough, was what looked to be a very orderly family gathering. There was sign of neither destruction nor tears, though the level of tension in the room was up near the danger mark. Diane, wearing a look of placid arrogance, sat regally in a high-backed chair, while her husband stood behind her, a hand on either sculpted post, an indignant expression on his face. One end of the sofa was occupied by a man Leslie had never seen before. To her eye, his hair was too perfect, his three-piece suit too flashy, his entire bearing too glossy; she disliked him instantly. Tony stood by the fireplace in a state of obvious agitation. And Oliver stood by the window observing the group from a more detached position. His composure was, for show, well intact. Only Leslie recognized the grim set of his lips, the shadow of worry on his brow, the stiffness of his casual stance.

It was to Oliver that she spoke, her voice a whisper. “What's going on here?”

“You shouldn't have come—” he began somberly, only to be interrupted by an irate Diane.

“And why not? The rest of the family knows. And
she
should know. More than anyone, perhaps. After all, she's the one who's been mooning over you. I think she's got a right to the—”

“Diane!” Tony broke in. “That's enough!”

Diane fumed, her eyes blazing. “She'll know when it hits the papers anyway. She's your sister. Don't you want to make it easier for her?”

“Make what easier?” Leslie asked, her stomach tied up in knots. “What are you talking about?” Her wide-eyed gaze swung back to Oliver for a minute. His lips were tight.

Brad's were not. “It seems that your boyfriend has made good use of his high-priced time to seduce my wife.”

Leslie stared, aghast. “
What
?” She was aware of Brenda coming up from behind to give her support, but shrugged off the hand at her shoulder.

It was Tony who took over, speaking more quietly. “Diane is threatening a malpractice suit against Oliver. She claims that he forced sexual relations on her for the sake of therapy.”

“That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard,” Leslie stated with amazing calm. “Oliver wouldn't do a thing like that.”

“And I'd lie?” Diane cried, rejoining the fray. “See. He's got you as brainwashed as he had me. Only I'm not so crazy about him that I can't think straight.”

Leslie swallowed hard and tucked her fists in her, pockets. “That's a whole other issue. What does Oliver say to all this?”

Oliver's voice came deep and firm. “He denies it.”

“Well, he can deny it in court,” Brad countered, then cast a nod toward the slick man on the sofa. “We've retained Henry to represent us.”

Leslie shook her head in disbelief. “You're serious! I'm amazed. You should know better, Brad. My God, it's not as though Diane's been the most stable—”

“Leslie!” Oliver cut in sharply, then lowered his voice, “Please.”

The eyes that held hers said far more.
She's sick. Go easy on her. Besides, she hasn't got a case. Trust me. I love you.

With the ghost of a nod, she walked to a free chair and sat down. She'd be quiet, but she'd be damned if she'd leave.

“Okay,” Tony said with a tired sigh. “Where were we?”

Brad spoke up, looking down at his wife with a warmth that made Leslie nauseated. “Diane was just going through things chronologically. You were saying, sweetheart—”

“But what's the point of all this?” Brenda burst out, her gaze sliding from Brad to Diane and back. “I don't understand what you want. You're going to sue for damages? Neither of you needs the money.”

Brad's jaw was set at a stubborn angle. “It's the principle of the thing. He's hurt our marriage and seriously threatened Diane's peace of mind.”

“Now wait a minute,” Oliver came forward. “Your marriage was on the rocks before I ever came on the scene. And as for Diane's peace of mind, it was nonexistent even then. Why do you think she spent an entire day cutting your bedroom to shreds?”

“That's beside the point,” Brad went on in the way of the injured innocent. “What I'm concerned about is what happened
after
she started seeing you.”

“But a judge and jury will take in the entire picture,” Oliver pointed out calmly. “They'll ask about your marriage. They'll hear testimony about Diane's emotional state. Are you sure you want to put your wife through that?”

“For the satisfaction of seeing you lose your license to practice? Yes.”

“That won't happen, Brad. Your allegations are absurd. You haven't a shred of evidence—”

“Other than my wife's testimony. Henry tells me that judges today lean heavily in favor of a woman who's been raped.”

“She wasn't raped,” Oliver scoffed impatiently. “Scandal is all you'll be able to create. Headlines. Innuendo. But no case.”

Diane spoke softly. “Headlines and innuendo will be enough.” She turned her smile on Leslie and crinkled up her nose. “Won't want to be seen with a guy who's got an atrocious reputation and no job, will you?”

“You're crazy,” Leslie murmured.

“Di,” Brenda said, “don't you think you're carrying this a little too far? I mean, headlines and innuendo could be harmful to the corporation, too.”

“Not if I'm the injured party.”

“But you're not,” Tony injected, growing as impatient as Oliver, “and Brenda's right. This is foolish—”

“It is not!” Diane screamed. “You weren't the one who was—who was violated!”

Tony's tone mellowed to one of sweet sarcasm. “And you were truly violated?”

“Yes!” She tipped up her chin. “He took advantage of me! Maybe he takes advantage of every pretty girl who comes along. I don't know. That's something for the authorities to investigate.” She arched a brow. “All I know is what he did to me.”

“What did he do to you?” Brenda asked bluntly. “Tell us, Di. Tell us everything.”

“He seduced me in the name of psychiatric treatment.”

“Sounds like you got that from last month's
Post.
”