More Than Friends (40 page)

"Do you love him?"

"I worship him. All my life I've worshiped him. But I could have lived without him, really I could have, if my marriage had stayed intact." She gave a tired sigh. "Right now my first priority is the kids."

"You've thought this all through, then?"

Teke nodded. "And I've tried to be rational,

believe me, I have." She gave a sheepish smile. "J.D. isn't the only leaner. I've leaned on you, Annie, maybe more than I should have. You and Sam have been our rock. So without you our marriage crumbles."

"I feel awful."

"Don't."

"I can still remember the night we fixed you two up. We thought it was the perfect match, remember, Sam? Your best friend and my best friend, opposites that were bound to attract?" She returned to Teke with a helpless look. "So we blew it?"

"Oh, no, Annie," Teke hurried to say, "J.D. and I had nineteen fine years. If I hadn't married him, I wouldn't have had my children--and I might have gone on for another nineteen years with J.D. if things hadn't changed. But they did change, so now I have to think about where I'm headed. As I see it, in my new, rational mode"--that, added in self mockery--"I have four immediate worries. The first is how to deal with the kids. Do I tell them now, or do I wait? Do I talk about divorce, or do I stick to separation?"

"You talk to J.D. before you do anything," Sam said. "You have to make sure this is what he wants."

"What if it's what I want?" Teke cried, and her emotions flared again.

"Maybe it's time I did what's best for me! Do you know that I have no idea how to balance a checkbook, or what our auto insurance or home insurance covers, or what information is listed on an income tax form?

I have never received a paycheck. I have absolutely no credit to my name. Do you have any idea how helpless I feel? How dependent? How terrified?" Feeling chilled, she pulled her coat more tightly around her. "But I'm getting ahead of myself. I have to decide how to handle the kids. I'm thinking that I shouldn't say

anything until I know for sure what I'm doing. Right?" Annie nodded. "Unless they have the power to change your mind." With the conviction that had come to her in the wake of the afternoon's fiasco, Teke said, "It's too late. J.D. doesn't want a reconciliation any more than I do." She turned to Sam. "Does he?" It was a minute before Sam said a quiet, "No." The pain of her recent encounters with J.D. had immunized her such that the truth didn't hurt now the way it might have a week or two before.

"That leads to my second worry. Christmas could be another horror. I don't want it to be."

"I think we should all go skiing," Annie said. Teke was startled. "All of us? You don't want me there."

"I do. But will it be a torment for Michael if he can't ski?"

"You want me along?" She would have thought that was the last thing Annie would want.

"Yes, Teke," Annie said in a teacherly tone. "I want you to be with your kids and my kids and us."

"But why?"

"Because we have to go on living."

Teke wanted that more than anything, but she had thought it a pipe dream. "Together? After what happened?"

Annie grew thoughtful. "We were too close. I think we all agree on that. We leaned on each other too much, so now we have to learn to stand on our own. But we also had good times. Do we have to throw those out, too? The kids want to be together, and we all know J.D. won't come, which means you'll be able to relax."

"But will you?" Teke asked with a quick look at Sam. Annie seemed to struggle with the question. "I'm trying," she finally said.

In the weeks since Michael's accident, Teke had been aware of missing Annie. Only now did she realize how much she loved her. She would have hugged her if things had been different. Instead she brushed tears from the corners of her eyes and said, "Well, at least it's a relief to know that the girls can go, even if Michael and I have to stay here." She took a shaky breath and returned to her list. "The other things are technical and related. There's the matter of taking steps to protect myself. I have to establish credit, for starters. And I have to secure enough money from J.D. to take care of the kids. I need a lawyer." She faced Sam. "Do you know of anyone good?"

"God, Teke, I hate to do this."

"It's necessary, Sam. Believe me. There's nothing left of my marriage to save. I've come to accept that now. When I cry at night, it's not over J.D. It's over the kids' suffering. Maybe if J.D. and I can make a clean break of it, their suffering will be minimized. I wouldn't be asking you for a name--it's another betrayal of J.D.--but I don't know who else to ask. I need help. Just a name."

Ten minutes later she walked back through the cold night woods with the name and number of Sam's recommendation in her jacket pocket. sixteen

Annie disliked the english department's annual Christmas party. For one thing, it came too early, barely into the second week of December, when she still had the taste of turkey in her mouth. For another, it came at the hell point before term's end, which was fine for the faculty members who didn't have families, but for Annie, who did, it meant one more lost night at a time when too many others were lost. For a third, it was held in a lounge saved for the occasion, a room hemmed in by dark wood walls, filled with heavy velvet furniture, and lit by candelabras that Annie swore had been brought to the New World from a dungeon in the Old. Worst, though, the party was stag. Neither spouses nor significant others were invited. Annie would have liked Sam with her this year.

She arrived late, helped herself to a toothpick's worth of shrimp and a glass of wine, and looked around. Her first thought was that it was just as well Sam wasn't there. Susan Duffy was dressed to kill. Natalie Holstrom wasn't far behind. Annie's second thought was that the first thought was very sad. She never used to have

thoughts like it. She wished she didn't now.

Joining friends in the nearest group, she tapped in to the discussion there. A bit later she moved to another group, where she stood listening to the talk with half an ear. She saw these people nearly every day, which was precisely why she had always felt that dates should be included. They added freshness and depth to discussions. Annie liked meeting her colleagues' better halves. She liked showing off her own.

"Bored?" Jason asked, coming from behind to zero in on her ear. She moved aside with him. "Academicians, regardless how extreme their politics, tend to be parochial. We rehash the same things over and over again."

"It's called self-aggrandizement. It's the nature of the beast." She smiled. "So now that you know, are you sure you want to join us?"

"Sure I'm sure," he said with a cocky lilt. "I'm into self-aggrandizement as much as the next guy. Maybe more. Besides," he added dryly, "I can't afford to turn back. I've come too far. It's either continue on or sweep floors for Grounds and Buildings at six fifty an hour."

"Any word on financial aid?"

"Not yet. I've filed the forms. Now I wait for them to decide if I'm needy."

Annie couldn't begin to imagine what it was like to go from riches to rags, so she indulged him in his flippancy. She probably would have anyway. She liked Jason, respected his intelligence and his quickness. She still blushed when she thought about the way she had let him touch her, but it wasn't so bad now that Sam's touch was back. It bothered her that she hadn't yet told Sam

about Jason, but she didn't know how to do it or when. She was afraid of rocking the boat of their marriage, which was tentative, finally beginning to steady. She liked Sam's attentions. She was feeling more sure of herself as a woman.

Until she looked at women like Susan Duffy. So she tried not to.

"How's your family doing?" she asked Jason.

"To talk with them," he answered, "you'd think everything was hunky-dory. It's only when I ask for money that Dad sets me straight. They have limited cash flow, he says, though I can't see that their lifestyle has changed any. Not outwardly. It looks like I'm the only frill they've cut."

"Jason," she chided, then asked more quietly, "How are you feeling?"

"Great."

"Did you see my doctor?"

"Yeah. Cool guy."

"Did he find anything wrong?"

Jason grinned and winked at someone across the room. From the light-hearted looks of him, Annie guessed he was fine. She was startled when he said, "Diabetes, he thinks."

"Diabetes?"

"Shhhhh. It's our secret."

Annie whispered, "But you say it like it's a cold. Diabetes is serious."

"It runs in my family. I'm not really surprised. I just thought I might escape it, arrogant bastard that I am."

She let out a breath. "On top of everything else."

"Don't look so worried. I'll be fine." He grew serious. "It really is a secret. I have enough of a problem with Honnemann. He'll never hire me to teach if he learns that I'm sick. You won't tell him, will you?"

"Of course not," Annie assured him quickly. "It's irrelevant. I just hope that you won't be taking on too much rushing to get the degree by June."

"I have no choice. I have to work next year."

"Do you give yourself shots?"

"I take pills."

"Are you seeing a specialist?"

"Duncan Hobbs. Ever hear of him?"

"No, but I'll check him out."

"Thanks, Mom."

Annie didn't take offense. "That's more appropriate, don't you think?"

He looked at her breasts. "I don't know. You felt damn good." Her cheeks flamed. She sighed. "Let's make a deal, Jason. You won't make comments like that, and I won't tell anyone you're popping pills, okay?"

Jason smiled, then looked beyond her. "Ahh, my fans await. Will you excuse me, ma'am?"

As she nudged him off, she caught sight of Charles Honnemann's bright red bow tie. He was standing alone. She joined him.

"The department keeps growing," she remarked. "Last year's party wasn't as large as this."

"A weak economy works in our favor, since our tuition's less than some," Charles replied. "The admissions people say inquiries are up. Whether that will translate into an increased enrollment again remains to be seen."

"In any case, you'll have at least one instructor's slot to fill. Any chance of appointing Jason?"

"There's a chance," Charles conceded, "but I don't know how good it is. He doesn't have his degree."

"He will. I'm advising him on his thesis. It's an analysis of the works of James Joyce. It's going to be brilliant." Charles watched Jason, who was on the far side

of the room, entertaining a group of his fellow teaching assistants.

"You like the boy."

"Uh-huh."

"He has an irreverent look to him."

"Is irreverent any worse than bizarre?" she asked, and didn't have to elaborate. There were any number of weird-looking people in the room.

"He's a hard worker. He hasn't once let me down."

"Is it on the up and up?"

"Is what?"

"Your relationship with Faust."

"Excuse me?" she asked in surprise.

"You're fond of him. He's obviously fond of you." Jason wouldn't have said anything, Annie was sure of it; still, she felt prickles at the back of her neck. "I'm married, Charles."

"So was Lady Chatterley." He sighed. "Not that it matters to me what you do with him. That's your business, and you're right, we do have some unconventional people in our midst who, no doubt, are doing far more risque things than having intra departmental affairs. But if you're going to bat for Jason, I want to know the nature of your loyalty."

Annie simmered. "Jason has an outstanding grasp of literature and a special feel for poetry. He can write, he can communicate, and, quite honestly, he's a refreshing change from some of the members of our department who are avant-garde for the sake of being avant-garde." Charles nodded. "I'll think about it."

"Do," Annie said, setting her glass on a passing tray. She circulated for another few minutes before pleading family commitments and leaving the party.

Teke knocked on the door that led into the basement of Cornelia Hart's house, then waited nervously,

shivering in the cold, for what seemed an eternity until Grady opened up. He was wearing a flannel shirt open over a pair of jeans and looked cross.

"Can I come in?" she asked quietly. When he searched the darkness behind her, she said, "I'm alone."

"Then maybe you shouldn't. I'm not in a great mood, Teke." She wasn't in a great mood herself. The last few days had been tense ones. She was feeling shaky. "I've been driving around for an hour. At first I thought I might go to a movie. Then I thought I'd get something stiff to drink." She paused. "My car brought me here." He wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and hung his head.

"Please, Grady." She hadn't seen him since the kidnapping episode. "I have to talk with you."

"This is a shitty basement."

"Is that supposed to bother me?" she asked, stepping past him with a flash of indignation. "I would have visited you in prison if you'd let me." She looked around. "Lord knows I've seen worse that this." The place was floor-to-ceiling concrete and smelled of age and dust. In the dark portions she saw what she assumed was stored furniture. The one lit corner, not far from the heater, held an old four-poster bed, a mahogany dresser, and a large, overstuffed chair.

Parka and all, she slipped onto the chair. The sough of the heater was the only sound until her thoughts bubbled out. "I'm sorry about what J.D. did to you the other day, Grady. It was just plain malicious. Since he hasn't been able to sue anyone over what happened to Michael, he's settling for being a giant pain in the butt. He's given Sam and me both a rough time, but you're the one who really gets his goat." Grady remained behind her. "Why me?"

"I guess because you were my lover. He knew he wasn't the first, but as long as any others were faceless, he could pretend they didn't exist. He can't do that anymore."

"What's it to him who you were with before? Hell, he was the one who got you."

"Only because you sent me away," she shot back, then lowered her voice.

"Besides, he never had the whole me. He knew that. You did, so he's feeling bested, and for J.D. to be bested by someone he considers beneath him .. ." After nineteen years of marriage to J.D." she could understand the man, at least. "It's no wonder you bring out the worst in him."