Beyond Midnight (39 page)

Russ started up the stairs, then turned.
"
If Dad were here, he wouldn
'
t have to,
"
he said with depressing ins
ight. And then he went to bed.

****

The hearing went pretty much as the lieutenant in charge had told Helen it would. No charges were filed; no scarlet letters were issued for her children to wear. Becky was let off the hook altogether; Russell was put in
Salem
'
s Diversion Program, intended to redirect troubled youths. His punishment—very fitting—was to raise and lower the flag in front of City Hall for a month.

The results should have been comforting, but somehow they weren
'
t. What if he should slip up? Helen felt as if they were
all
on probation. As a result she was subdued, and her children were subdued, that night at dinner. Helen had grounded them both Until Further Notice while she made up her mind what to do. She wanted to be
fair
;
but she was feeling too dejected to be fair.

All that changed when the doorbell rang.

Helen, dressed for comfort in baggy slacks and an oversized T-shirt, was working at her downstairs desk when Russ came in and said,
"
It
'
s that guy with the Porsche.
"

The boy was trying to be discreet, but the guy with the Porsche was right behind him, standing in the doorway.
"
Thanks, Russ,
"
Helen said, without even looking at her son. Her gaze was focused on Katie
'
s father. Except she wasn
'
t thinking of him as Katie
'
s father. Or Linda
'
s widowed husband. Or the Fund Manager of the Year. He was simply the man with whom she was falling in love. Looked at that way, he was utterly irresistible. It made her spirits soar just to have him in the room.

Russ, who had nothing more to say or do, ducked around Nat on his way out, leaving behind a huge void of silence.

"
Hi.
"
The word tumbled feather soft from Helen
's lips.

"
I brought back your book,
"
Nat said, lifting it up between them.

"
The book,
"
she repeated, pretending she understood what the word
book
meant. She had no idea.

"
The primer?
"
he explained.
"
On toddler care?
"

"
Oh, the book. Thanks. You
'
ve brought it back?
"

With a subdued smile, he lifted it up again for her to see.

She
'
d lost her wits. Never mind Aunt Mary;
she
was the one who was in big trouble. She stood up and said,
"
You didn
'
t have to rush through it for my sake. Did you make a special trip?
"

"
Yes and no,
"
he said as he walked over to the bookshelf from which the book had been removed. Sliding the volume into the gap that still remained, he said,
"
I was driving past your house, anyway—but I take a roundabout route from work so that I can drive past your house.
"

"
I
—
oh. Excuse me?
"

He turned and leaned back into the bookshelves and folded his arms across his chest.
"
Yes. I made a special trip. Yes.
"

Now
her heart was hammering.

Flushing
, she said inanely,
"
Well. Thank you.
"

She realized that he was still wearing a suit. His tie was loosened and his hair was rumpled; obviously he
'
d been working late.
"
Have you eaten?
"
she asked, at the same time trying to figure out how to change into something more becoming.

"
No
.
Is that an offer or a rhetorical question?
"

"
Would Katie still be waiting up for you at this hour?
"

"
Will it make a difference if she is?
"

"
Is either of us ever going to answer the other
'
s question?
"

He laughed at that and said,
"
Katie
'
s dead to the world by now. I said good-night to her on the phone before I left
Boston
. I know it doesn
'
t look as if I
'
m getting any better at this, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I
'
m hiring more help at work. In fact, that
'
s why I
'
m late tonight; the interview ran over.
"

"
That
is
good news,
"
Helen said, truly pleased to hear it.
"
It calls for some kind of celebration. Would a sandwich and a beer be about right?
"

With a wry grin he said,
"
I hate to think what I
'
d have to do to earn a casserole and a glass of wine.
"

"
Hire three more analysts,
"
she said promptly.
"
Come on, I think the kitchen
'
s still open.
"

With a fervent hope that Russ was under his headphones, Helen headed for the fridge with Nat in tow. She felt exactly as if she were sneaking a man into an all-girl dorm.

This is stupid,
she told herself.
I
'
m the boss around here. My kitchen, my food, my—

Son.
"
Yes, Russ?
"
she asked as the boy came skidding to a halt at the door to the kitchen.

Russell glanced from his mother to the cookie cupboard to the man in front of it to the fridge to his mother again.
"
I
'
m hungry,
"
he said warily. He looked like a coyote who
'
d wandered into a Sunday brunch.

"
I
'
m making Mr. Byrne a sandwich. Would you like me to make you one, too?
"

"
No,
"
he said with distinct coolness.
"
I
'
ll get something myself.
"
He settled for an unfinished bag of Doritos, grabbed a Pepsi, and went out without a word to either of them.

As Helen emptied sandwich fixings from the refrigerator, Nat said flatly,
"
He has a problem with me.
"

"
Russ has a problem with everything,
"
Helen said, trying to laugh it off.
"
It
'
s a stage.
"

"
It
'
s more than that, I think. He tries too hard to pretend I
'
m not here.
"

Slicing off two thick hunks of sourdough bread, Helen said,
"
He
'
s bored. He
'
s angry. He
'
s fourteen.
"
For some unaccountable reason, she added,
"
He
'
s an
artiste.
They
'
re temperamental, you know.
"

"
Ah. He has artistic talent?
"

"
He must think so,
"
she said lightly.
"
He got yanked off the statue of Roger Conant the other night with a can of spray paint in his hand.
"

"
Uh-oh. Graffiti?
"

When Helen thought about it afterward, she wondered why she
'
d felt the urge to tell Nat about it. Maybe she was afraid the police were going to go blabbing to every stockbroker in town. Whatever the reason, she decided to make it all a joke. She described herself scrambling up the boulder and scrubbing the pilgrim
'
s fingernails; her hysteria when she spotted the patrol car; her suspicious loitering the next day as she looked for telltale traces of Day-G
lo
orange on the statue. She made the story about herself, with Russ merely a bit player in it.

When she finished, Nat was laughing and saying things like boys will be boys. He confessed, himself, to a desperate and so far unsatisfied urge to spray paint the huge Corita
gas
tank alongside
Boston
'
s Southeast Expressway.

In short, he made Russell sound perfectly normal, and for that Helen would
'
ve been willing to go to bed with him on the spot. But that wasn
'
t possible, so instead she placed a thick ham and cheese sandwich in front of him, and a tall, frosty beer, and said,
"
You
'
ve made my day, Nat. You
'
ll never, never know how much.
"

She sat alongside him, wearing a big, fat grin on her face.
"
Eat up,
"
she said, drumming the palms of her hands on the wood enthusiastically.
"
There
'
s more.
"

He cocked his head and gave her a quirky little smile.
"
I like you like that. Especially the ponytail. It makes you less official, less authoritative, somehow.
"

Her hand flew up to the rubber band; she
'
d forgotten about the ponytail. Damn! At
least
if her hair looked decent!

She pulled the rubber band off and swung her black hair from side to side, freeing it.
"
I need all the authority I can get around here, Nat,
"
she said, laughing.
"
Believe me.
"

He had no answer to that; only a troubled, burning look. And then Helen
'
s laugh subsided to a smile, and the smile softened to a slight tremble of her lips as he slid his hand behind her head and brought his mouth on hers in a soft, tentative kiss. The touch of his lips was shockingly real after the fantasy of it for so many weeks; Helen made a tiny sound, deep in her throat, mostly to convince herself that this time the kiss was not a conjured act in a silent dream.

No. It was
very, very real.

No.
"Nat—"

"
Don
'
t tell me you didn
'
t expect this,
"
he whispered, tracing a soft line of kisses to her ear.
"
Don
'
t.
"

Her heart was racing.
"
If I did,
"
she murmured, dropping her voice to match the secrecy in his,
"
what d
i
ff—
"

The squ
eak of running shoes in the hal
l brought her up sho
r
t
.
She jerked her head back guiltily and sat up straight in her chair, just the way she
'
d nagged her kids to do a million times. Her chee
ks, she knew, were flushed with
embarrassment.

Nat, on the other hand, seemed to have no problem being caught making out with a real live mom. He gave Russ a look that was friendly, open, and unconcerned. Technically, Nat was right. They weren
'
t doing anything illegal or immoral.

Technically.

Russell
'
s own face was burning bright red as he finally broke out of his trance, turned on his heel, and fled.