More Than Friends (39 page)

"Soon as I'm done eating."

In five minutes they were on their way. Five minutes after that Grady pulled up to the carriage house.

"Wow," Michael said, studying the place through the windshield, "this is neat."

Grady thought so. The large carriage doors had been replaced with windows and a more conventional double door. A huge arched window stood where the hayloft door had been. The clapboards were new and painted a Nantucket gray against the white that framed the windows and doors.

The inside was less finished. Though studs gave a vague picture of where walls would eventually be, it was basically a single large room with pink insulation lining the outer walls. "Still have a ways to go," Grady said, "but it's tight enough now so I can work in the cold."

"What's going over there?"

"That's the kitchen. That's a bedroom. We're standing in the living room."

"What's up there?"

"The loft. Bedroom or office, whatever."

"Is the stairway going to wind?"

"You bet."

"Awesome. What a neat place." Michael moved forward--more deftly now with his crutches--stopping to touch the wood that lay over sawhorses, waiting to be cut.

"Watch where you go," Grady said just as the sound of sirens came from the distance. He had the awful image of the boy slipping on sawdust.

"Don't want you hurting any of my tools."

The sirens grew louder. They were a rare sound for the neighborhood. Grady had visions of an elderly person having a stroke. When the sirens grew louder still, he thought of Cornelia.

"Stay put a minute," he told Michael. "I'm going to check on Mrs. Hart." But the sirens beat him to the carriage house door. He opened it to an array of blindingly bright, blinking lights. There was no ambulance, just three police cars crowded in to prevent the escape of his truck.

"What's going on?" he asked.

The doors of the police cars swung open, disgorging officers with the guns aimed his way. "Freeze, Piper," one yelled. "Put your hands on your head. Nice and slow. That's it."

Grady's stomach, which had turned over at the first show of the guns, sent a clenching message to the rest of his body. "What's the problem, Officer?" he asked as calmly as he could. He had pretty much gotten used to the Constance police force, but they had never drawn their guns on him before.

"Take five steps forward."

Grady took five steps forward. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Where's the boy?"

"Inside."

The police immediately fanned out. They kept their guns pointed at Grady, who was growing more and more alarmed. He didn't like guns, didn't like them at all.

"What's the matter?" he asked, singling Dodd out from the posse. He wished they would tell him what he was supposed to have done this time. Last time it had been robbery. This time the presence of guns said it was something worse. The thought that there might have been a murder in town gave him a chill.

"Get the boy," one of the officers called.

"There he is," another said.

"What do they want, Grady?" Michael asked from the door, sounding frightened.

"Are you all right, son?" the officer closest to him asked.

"I'm fine. But why are you here? What are you doing?" The officers closed in. Grady might have known it would be Connors who gestured with his gun. The man looked to be enjoying himself. "Against the car, Piper. Hands on the roof."

Grady knew the drill. He also knew that one false move could set off a dumb-assed suburban police officer's gun. Moving slowly, he put his hands on the roof of the cruiser. His legs were immediately kicked apart and his person searched.

"What are you doing?" Michael yelled. "He hasn't done anything wrong. What's the charge here?"

"Kidnapping," Connors said, snapping handcuffs on Grady. Grady was dumbstruck. "Kidnapping?"

"Who did he kidnap?" Michael yelled.

But Grady suddenly knew. A powerful anger rose in him. "Dodd?" he bellowed, finding the man several yards off. "Have to talk, Dodd."

"At the station, bud," Connors said, and opened the back door of the cruiser.

Michael lurched forward. "You can't put him in that car. He isn't a criminal. He didn't do anything wrong." When an officer tried to restrain him, he shouted, "Don't touch me!"

Dodd came to Grady's side.

With a great effort, given the fury he felt, Grady lowered his voice so that Michael wouldn't hear. "You know what this is about, don't you?" he told Dodd. "It's Maxwell. I left a note on the kitchen table saying that I was taking the boy out. He must have seen it. You know he hates me, and you know I didn't kidnap that boy. I'm his friend and his mother's friend. Call her. I was doing her a favor by baby sitting the boy. She should be home by now. If you take me in for kidnapping, you'll be making fools of yourselves." Dodd looked disgusted. "We got the call. We have to follow through."

"And upset the boy?" Grady asked just as Michael materialized by his side.

"They can't do this, Grady. Tell them they can't. You didn't kidnap anyone. You have your rights."

"He sounds like his father, don't you think?" Grady asked Dodd. Dodd looked around. He made a disgruntled motion with his hand that sent the other officers returning to their cruisers. Then he said to Michael, "How 'bout you come for a ride with Grady and me? We'll check in at the station, get this all straightened out, then drive you back."

"He has a tutor coming at three," Grady said. But Michael wasn't budging. "I'm going with you. There isn't any crime if there isn't any victim, and if those dorks don't know it, I'll tell them."

"Watch it, Michael," Grady cautioned. "Those 'dorks' are here to protect you."

"Protect me? You could protect me far more than they ever could." He turned on Dodd. "You're making a major mistake. Grady didn't kidnap me. Do I look coerced? Do I look unhappy? No! I'm here of my own free will, which you guys would see if you had any brains under those fancy hats of yours."

"Jesus, Michael," Grady said, then said to Dodd, "He must watch too much television."

"Soap operas," Michael corrected, "and this is just like one. It's sickr

Dodd scowled at Connors. "Get rid of the handcuffs."

"If I do that, he'll--"

"Get the goddamned things off!"

Connors took them off.

Dodd put a warning hand on Grady's arm. "You drive the boy back home now. We'll give you an escort. Any doubts when we get there, and we'll take you right back to the station. Understood?" Grady understood. He also understood that J. D. Maxwell wasn't stopping until he was run out of town, but he'd be damned if he was going to let that happen. He was staying until Teke didn't need him anymore. Come that day, and only then, he would be gone. When Teke came home to a swarm of police cars, her imagination went wild. She lost ten years in the time it took to park and run into the house. Once she learned what had happened, she was livid. After the debacle of Thanksgiving, and on the heels of her dismal discussion with Leigh's guidance counselor, this deliberate trouble making by J.D. was the final straw. As soon as the police and Grady were gone and Michael was tucked away with his tutor, she gave vent to her rage.

"What an awful thing to do, J.D.! A cruel, stupid, malicious thing!

You knew Grady spent time with Michael. You saw the note he left on the table. You knew there wasn't any kidnapping. Why did you do that?"

J.D. looked perfectly composed, which fed her anger all the more. Rather than deny what she said, he shrugged. "I don't like Grady Piper. I don't like him spending time with my son."

"Somebody should, since you certainly don't, but that's beside the point," she argued, and raced on. "What right do you have to treat Grady that way? You've been trying to get him in trouble since the day he arrived. What did he ever do to you?"

"He hurt my son."

"It wasn't his fault!" she cried as it seemed she had done a thousand times. "He's never done anything to you, except know me when I was a child"-she paused--"but that's it, isn't it? You're jealous. You don't want me yourself, still you're jealous."

"I am not jealous."

She should have been flattered, but her anger wouldn't allow for that.

"He comes over and shovels the walk. He stays with Michael while I run down to the school. He stops by for an hour of friendly conversation with me. He helps me out. He makes things easier for me. And all that makes you look bad."

"No, it doesn't. I don't live here anymore. Obviously I can't do those things."

She slapped the counter. "You never did them, J.D. Your work, your needs, always came first. You helped me out only if it was convenient for you. If you want to know the truth, living here without you isn't much of a change from before. I took care of most everything then, and I do the same now. And if you really want to know the truth," she went on, caught up in a purging of the thoughts that had been festering in her mind, "I have never been so relieved to see you leave here as I was on Thanksgiving. I thought you were doing me a favor by coming, but you weren't. You're dark and gloomy and troublesome. When you came, you brought a storm cloud with you, and you took it away when you left. So, if you really want to do me a favor, you can just stay away!" Somewhere in the midst of her tirade, she had started to shake. She made no effort to stop it as she stood glaring at J.D. She had never been so angry in her life.

"I can grant you that favor," J.D. said with his chin in the air in fine Maxwell form. "I can grant you other favors, too, but you're going to have to ask for every single one. That means money, the house, the car, new clothes. Can you support yourself in the style to which you're accustomed?" he asked, heading for the door.

"I don't want your money!"

"Amazing how you've changed your colors, Teke. What was all the talk about wanting to save our marriage? About wanting what was best for the kids? Thanks to Grady Piper, you're willing to chuck it all, and you wonder why I don't like the guy?" He swung through the door. She went hot in pursuit with a point to make. "Grady has nothing to do with this. It's between you and me." She raised her voice when he slid into his car. "Don't keep trying to blame him. If our marriage is gone, it's because we blew it ourselves. We did it. So don't blame him, don't blame Sam, don't blame your father--"

He sped off, leaving her yelling into the cold air with no one to hear. After a minute she quieted, wrapped her arms around herself, and returned to the house. But the anger didn't fade. Nor did the frustration, or the fear.

So, that evening, taking advantage of the fact that Jon and Zoe had come to do homework with Leigh and Jana, and Michael was watching television, she left the dinner dishes in the sink, ran through the woods, and knocked--a first--on the Popes' back door. She wasn't sure she was welcome, but she was desperate enough to take the risk.

"Got a minute?" she asked nervously when Annie came to the door.

"Sure. We were just having coffee. Want some?" Teke shook her head. Heart pounding, she came into the kitchen. Sam was sitting there. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"I, uh, need to talk with friends. No one else fits the bill. No one knows me the way you guys do." She leaned against the counter with her hands buried in the pockets of her coat and spoke above the racket in her chest. "It's no good between J.D. and me. There's nothing left. It's done. Over."

Annie and Sam ex hanged an alarmed look. "Completely?" Annie asked.

"Are you sure?"

"I knew it on Thanksgiving. What a disaster that was." She still felt it in her marrow, the horror of that day, the horror of this one. "It was such a relief when he left. The house is more peaceful without him. My life is more peaceful without him--not that we fought, we never did that, but he likes things done certain ways, and I felt obligated to comply. When the kids were little, I used to run around madly picking up toys when I knew he was on his way home. He wanted the house to be spotless, so it was. It's not toys now, it's clothes and schoolbooks and junk mail, but I haven't had to worry about any of that for the past few weeks, and it's nice. Same thing with serving dinner at six-thirty rather than seven-thirty."

"But you've been married to the man for nineteen years," Sam said.

"There must be something you like about him." Teke hugged her arms to her body. With the steadying of her heartbeat, she was more aware of the twisting of her stomach. She was about to turn a corner in her life. Once around it, there was no going back.

"J.D. is stable. He's predictable. He earns a good living. He's financially secure. He treats me with respect--or he did, until now. Same thing with being sweet. He had his moments. But no more. He's so angry at me that we can't do anything

for each other, and if Thanksgiving was a sample of things to come, the kids will suffer each time we get together. We had an awful argument today. So what's the point?" She appealed to them. "Is there a point? I guess that's why I'm here. Do either of you see anything worth saving in my marriage?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "You've been good for J.D."

"No," Teke said with a new conviction, "I mothered him. Too much. If he'd been forced to do more as a father or a husband, he would have grown stronger, and if he'd been stronger, he would have been able to stand up to John Stewart."

"He'll be worse off without you," Sam argued.

"Without me he'll be free to find himself."

"He won't find himself. He'll find J.S."

"Then I should stay in the marriage to save J.D. from his father?" Teke asked. The thought of that set her off. She was suddenly as angry as she had been earlier that day. "But what about me? When do my needs become important? I wanted a family and financial security, and that's just what I've had for nineteen years, but it's like having a high-paying job that you detest, so what's it worth? I still want family, and I'll want financial security until the day when I can't remember what it was like growing up with none, but I need more."

"Is it Grady?" Annie asked.

"No," Teke said with a speed that belied her doubts. "Grady deserted me once. I don't want a man who does that to the woman he loves."