Confucius Jane (19 page)

The letter. Lund. Stem cells. Her article—the reason behind this confrontation with her father. Her research had nothing to do with him and never had. It belonged to her, and her alone. If he had pulled strings to help her surgeon's career, that was on his head. She had completed her thesis and published an article without his help. She wasn't his puppet, and he couldn't control her unless she let him.

With the epiphany, came resolve. “I don't appreciate being hauled in here like I've done something wrong. My article was published by a reputable, peer-reviewed medical journal. If you don't respect my values, Dad, then at least respect that.” She turned and rested her hand on the doorknob before looking back over her shoulder. “And for God's sake, stop treating me like a child and start treating me like a professional. I've earned it.”

As she stepped out into the hall, Sutton barely resisted the urge to slam the door behind her. Shaking with suppressed rage, she walked quickly toward the locker room. Suddenly, the hospital felt like a cage. She was a captive here—a prisoner to her surname and all the expectations it carried. She had to get out.

Her scrub shirt was loose, but she tugged at the neck as claustrophobia crashed over her. Mercifully, the locker room was deserted, and after yanking off her shirt she sank onto the metal bench nearest her locker. Gripping its sides tightly, she closed her eyes and forced herself to take a series of slow, deep breaths. Gradually, the feeling of suffocation receded, like floodwaters creeping back into their source.

“Okay,” she muttered when the fear had finally passed. “That was pretty awful, but you survived.”

After stripping off her scrub pants, she changed into jeans and a black fleece with NYU's crest embroidered below one shoulder. The fabric glided softly across her skin, soothing her frayed nerves. As she moved to pocket her phone, she paused. The only person she wanted to see right now was Jane. In her presence, Sutton felt like a real, three-dimensional person instead of Reginald St. James's daughter. In the aftermath of her confrontation with him, she needed that feeling more than ever.

Leaving the hospital now,
she typed, using her phone as an excuse to keep her head down as she exited the locker room.
Are you free?

But by the time she reemerged from the subway half an hour later, Jane hadn't texted her back. Usually, she replied within minutes. Feeling suddenly adrift, Sutton paused beneath the awning of an art gallery. The prospect of going home held no allure. She didn't want to be alone.

As she lingered, the sun came out from behind a puffy cumulus cloud. She turned her face into the rays, basking in the mildness of the day and the lateness of the light. The harbingers of spring made her momentarily forget her anger, her fear, her persistent dread about the future. Resolved, she turned toward Noodle Treasure. Someone there might know where Jane was. And even if not, she would be able to spend the rest of the afternoon with people who liked and respected her without knowing the first thing about her father.

When she stepped inside, the first person she saw was Minetta seated at her usual booth, her laptop open on the table. As Sutton looked around the room, Benny came out of the kitchen, smiling. He always made her feel so welcome.

“Dr. Sutton, hello! What can we get for you today?”

“Actually, I'm looking for Jane. Do you happen to know where she might be?”

“No, I don't. I'm sor—”

“She stopped by about an hour ago,” Min cut him off. “She said she was going over to Sue's.”

“Thanks, Min. I'll run over there. Take care, Benny.”

Waving to acknowledge their good-byes, she quickly left the restaurant. As she turned toward the apothecary, she marveled that only a few short weeks ago, she had been wholly ignorant of how to navigate the maze of Chinatown. Thanks to Jane, these streets were starting to feel familiar. Their relationship might have begun when Jane had offered to be her guide, but she was so much more than that now. She had become a friend. A confidante. A sounding board. And something more, too—something deeper and more visceral. Not yet a lover, but almost. Did she dare let Jane that close? Could they share that level of intimacy and also remain casual?

And then all rational thought flew out of Sutton's head as she turned the final corner. Her mouth went dry at the sight of Jane, dressed in a threadbare pair of jeans and a dark gray T-shirt, putting the final touches on a fresh coat of paint for Sue's door. The muscles in her upper back were plain to see through the thin fabric, and Sutton found herself mesmerized by the way they bunched up with each brushstroke. She wanted to slide her arms around Jane's slender waist and rise up on her toes to kiss the back of her neck.

So she did. Jane was so intent on her task that she didn't react until Sutton was touching her. As she tensed, Sutton slipped one hand beneath her shirt to caress her stomach. Hot, soft skin shivered beneath her palm, fueling Sutton's desire. She wanted to—

“Dr. St. James, if that isn't you, I'm going to have to use my self-defense training from college.” Jane's tone was playful, but the appellation only served to remind Sutton of her father.

“Hi,” she said through a suddenly tight throat, letting her arms drop. “How's your project coming along?”

Jane must have heard a hint of distress in Sutton's voice, because instead of answering, she spun to face her. The hand not holding the paintbrush settled on the small of Sutton's back, bringing their bodies flush. Jane looked down at her intently, her eyes searching. The sensation of their thighs pressing lightly together was at once arousing and comforting, and even Jane's one-handed hug made Sutton feel safe. Tears welled up in her eyes, unexpected and unwelcome, and she looked down to break their gaze. She heard the clatter of the brush falling to the sidewalk, and her head came to rest against Jane's shoulder as she was enfolded in a gentle embrace.

“Hey. It's okay. You're all right. I promise.”

Jane had no idea what she was talking about, and no authority from which to make promises. But Sutton didn't care. She pressed her cheek to the soft material of Jane's T-shirt and closed her eyes, inhaling the warm, spicy scent of her. When Jane's arms tightened in response, Sutton finally felt herself relax.

After a few moments, Jane kissed the top of her head. “How about we go inside and sit down for a little while?”

Sutton didn't particularly want to move, but it was probably a good idea to pull herself together away from the crowded streets. “All right.”

Jane shepherded her inside and led her over to the couch where Sue did her astrological readings. She sat close enough for their legs to touch and lightly rested one hand on Sutton's knee.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“My father and I had an argument.” Sutton swallowed hard, hating how weak she sounded. “It's not that big of a deal. I don't know why I'm letting it get to me.”

Jane opened her mouth to reply, but the sound of approaching footsteps cut her off. “Jane? Is that you?”

As Sue appeared around the corner, Jane angled her body toward Sutton's in a clear attempt to shield her. Sutton wondered whether the protective gesture had been deliberate or instinctual.

“Yes, Sue, it's me.” When Jane turned her head, Sutton barely managed to resist the urge to press her lips to the column of Jane's neck. Had all the stress destroyed her inhibitions? “And Sutton's here, too. Do you think you might be able to bring her a cup of tea?”

“Doctor Sutton! Wonderful to see you.” Their eyes met over Jane's shoulder, and Sue's gaze immediately turned sympathetic. “Tea. Of course. Something soothing, perhaps?”

“That would be lovely.”

Once she had gone, Jane turned back to face her. “How much time do you have?”

“The rest of the day.” Sutton reached up to brush away a speck of dried paint that had stuck to Jane's left cheek. “Before … before I saw my father, I was hoping to convince you to take a walk, later.”

Jane leaned into the touch like a cat. “It's perfect out, isn't it? I think we absolutely should.” Then she looked down at herself. “But I need a shower. Do you mind waiting?”

“Not at all.”

Sue returned carrying a large, red ceramic mug bearing three Chinese characters painted in black. She set it down on the table and smiled at Sutton. “Lavender tea. Very soothing.”

“Thank you.” Sutton raised the cup to her lips and breathed in the familiar fragrance.

Jane was still looking at her intently, concern writ plainly across her face. “How about this—while you drink your tea, I'll put the painting supplies away. Then we can make a brief stop by my aunt and uncle's apartment before we go on that walk.”

“Sounds great.” Not wanting her to worry, Sutton managed a smile. “Take your time.”

“Okay. See you soon.” Jane hurried across the store, and after one final glance over her shoulder, she was gone.

Sutton took a tentative sip of the tea, and then, when she found it not too hot, another. Its warmth was comforting against the back of her throat, and its light flavor lingered on her tongue. “This is heavenly, Sue. Thanks.”

“You're very welcome.” Sue lingered, and for a moment it seemed as though she might say something, but then the telephone rang and she excused herself. Sutton was relieved. All she wanted was to drink this and sit quietly for long enough to regain her composure.

As she sipped, she noticed a bowl of fortune cookies in the center of the table. Wanting to know what Jane had been writing recently, she reached for one. Popping half into her mouth, she let the tender shell dissolve against her tongue as she unfolded the fortune.

Just say yes.

Sutton balanced the fortune on her knee and stared down at it. What had Jane been thinking of while composing this? Had it been written with her in mind? The notion felt more than a little hubristic. But if it were true, what did Jane want her to say yes to? Saying yes to anything in her life right now was a fraught proposition. If she said yes to Columbia, then she said no to Lund. If she acquiesced to her father's demands, then she rejected her own principles. Feeling her anxiety start to rise again, she set the mug to her lips. When the door opened, she watched Jane enter, carefully balancing buckets and brushes.

“Doing okay?”

“I am. Thanks.”

“I'm just going to put these in the supply closet and wash up. Be right back.”

Sutton watched her go, admiring the fit of her jeans. Desire rose in her blood like a tide, submerging her fears.
Just say yes.
Maybe, when it came to Jane, it was that simple.

As she drank the last of her tea, Jane returned. “Ready?”

“Yes.” Sutton took her outstretched hand and didn't let go, even when she was standing.

The temperature had cooled a little while they were inside, but the air was still milder than it had been since November. Sutton swung their hands in a gentle arc, feeling thankful that Jane hadn't pressed her to talk as soon as they were alone. She seemed content to offer silent reassurance until Sutton brought it up. That kind of patience was so rare. Any of her other friends would have been grilling her for information by now.

“So … my father is even less thrilled about my article than I'd anticipated.”

Jane's thumb made a comforting circle against her skin. “What happened?”

“He came to visit me at the hospital today—dragged me into my advisor's office and told me that my article was unethical and that I'd made him look foolish and that I owed my career to his influence.”

“He did what?” Jane stopped, pulled her to the curb, and gently grasped her shoulders. “You know it's a lie, right?”

The heat in Jane's voice warmed Sutton's chest, making her feel cherished. “I know he was trying to manipulate me.”

“That's not what I asked.” Jane took a step closer and smoothed her palms along Sutton's upper arms. “Everything you have right now, you've earned.”

Too tired to argue, Sutton decided to concede the point, even if she no longer believed it. “It's not really that big of a deal. I think his reaction rattled me, more than anything. I was expecting him to disapprove, but he was just irate.”

“I'm so sorry. You deserve his respect, not his anger.” With one final caress, Jane moved them back into the current of humanity. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I'd like to take that walk. And maybe we can find some comfort food?”

“I know just the place.” She slowed as they drew abreast of Confucius Fortunes. “I'll be quick in the shower, I promise. Would you rather wait outside or upstairs?”

Sutton was suddenly possessed of a sharp urge to see Jane's home—to have a clear picture in her head of what Jane saw before she closed her eyes at night and when she opened them again in the morning.

“I'll come up.”

But Jane made no move to open the door. Instead, she shifted her weight back and forth in a clear show of anxiety. “Sutton … it's not exactly the Ritz up there.”

“So?”

Jane looked at her feet. “I don't have a room of my own, okay? I share with Min. That was the only space they had when I moved in.”

Guilt washed over Sutton that she had forced Jane into the admission. Did she truly believe Sutton was fickle enough to reject her, just because of where she lived or how much money she had? And if so, had Jane arrived at that impression all on her own? Or had Sutton done something to encourage it?

Wanting to make amends, she kissed one corner of Jane's mouth. “I understand. I'll wait here for you.”

Jane searched her eyes. “Aunt Jenny's probably cooking dinner. I'm sure she'd love your company in the kitchen.”

“Sounds great.” For tonight, she would let Jane establish whatever boundaries she needed to feel comfortable. But she didn't intend to let them stand forever.