Public Secrets (49 page)

The man laughed and blew smoke between his teeth. “Emma’s dreams don’t bother me.”

“They should. Since they concern us both. She’s in therapy, with the psychiatrist who treated Stevie Nimmons.” After sampling the Scotch, he decided it wasn’t good enough to water a plant with. “It looks as though she may be starting to remember.”

His expression changed. There was a trace of fear, then a flood of anger. “You should have let me kill her years ago.”

“It wasn’t necessary then.” The other man shrugged and sipped his Scotch. “It may be necessary now.”

“I don’t intend to get my hands dirty at this stage, old man. You take care of her.”

“I dealt with Jane.” His voice was cool and level. “At the moment, I think Emma only bears watching. If it goes further, it will be up to you.”

“All right. Not because you order it, but because I owe her.”

“Mr. Blackpool, can I have your autograph?” He set down his lighter and smiled at the curvy young redhead. “Of course, dear. It would be a pleasure.”

T
HROUGH THE PARLOR
window, Emma could see the last of the New Year’s snow melting from the hedgerow.

“Michael wants me to marry him.”

Katherine barely lifted a brow. “How do you feel about that?”

Emma nearly laughed. It was such a standard response, therapist to patient. “I feel a lot of things about that. Surprise isn’t one of them. I’ve known for some time he’s only been waiting to ask me. When I’m with him, I start to believe that it could work. A home, a family. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“Do you love him?”

“Oh yes.” That part, it seemed, was quite simple. “I do.”

There was no hesitation there, Katherine noticed. “But you’re not sure of marriage.”

“It works for some people. We could hardly say it worked for me.”

“How does Michael compare with Drew?”

“In what way?”

Katherine merely lifted her hands palms up, fingers spread.

“They’re both men. Attractive, determined men.”

“Anything else?”

Emma wandered the room. The house was empty and quiet. It was understood that at three each afternoon she would be left alone to talk to Katherine. She hadn’t meant to speak of Michael today, but of the nightmares. But her thoughts had focused on him.

“No, nothing. Even before I realized Drew was violent, I couldn’t have compared them. He was careless with people, only able to focus on one at a time. There was no real sense of loyalty. He could be very clever and very romantic, but it was never done out of simple generosity. He always required payment.”

“And Michael?”

“He cares. About people, his job, his family. Loyalty is like, well, the color of his eyes Just part of him. I never thought I’d want to be with a man again. To have sex. When we made love for the first time, I felt things I’d always wanted to feel and hadn’t been able to.”

“You call it having sex when you refer to Drew. Making love with Michael.”

“Do I?” Emma paused and gave Katherine one of her rare smiles. A memory drifted back—Johnno sitting on her bed in her room in Martinique.
When it’s with someone you care about, it’s almost holy
. “I don’t suppose a degree is required to puzzle that out.”

“No.” Pleased, Katherine leaned back against the cushions. “Are you comfortable, physically, with Michael?”

“No. But it’s a wonderful kind of discomfort.”

“Exciting?”

“Yes. But I haven’t been able to…initiate.”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know. I think—I’d like to show him. I suppose I’m afraid of doing something wrong.”

“In what way?”

Baffled, Emma lifted her hands and let them fall. “I’m not sure, just that I might do something to annoy him, or…” Impatient with herself, she turned back to the window. “I can’t shake Drew, and the things he said to me about how stupid, how useless I was in bed.” She hated that, knowing she was still allowing him to control some part of her life.

“Have you considered that if you were inadequate in bed, it was due to your partner and the circumstances?”

“Yes. Up here.” Emma touched a finger to her temple. “I know I’m not cold and unresponsive. I can feel passion, desire. But I’m afraid to move toward Michael, afraid I might spoil something.” Pausing, she picked up a crystal pyramid and watched the colors run through it. “And it’s the nightmares. I’m almost as afraid of him now as I was when he was alive. Somehow
I think if I could pull him out of my dreams, erase his face and his voice from my subconscious, I’d be able to take that next step with Michael.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Of course that’s what I want. Do you think I want to go on being punished?”

“For what?”

“For not doing what he wanted quickly enough, or in the wrong way.” Agitated, she set the crystal down to wrap her arms around her breasts. “For not wearing the right dress. For being in love with Michael. He knew, he knew I felt something for Michael.” She began to pace again, twisting her fingers together. “When he saw us together at the showing, he knew it. So he beat me. He made me promise I’d never see Michael again, and he still beat me. He knew I wouldn’t keep the promise.”

“A promise made under duress isn’t a promise at all.”

Dismissing logic, Emma shook her head. “The point is, I tried to keep it, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. So he punished me.”

She dropped into a chair. “I lied,” she continued, half to herself. “I lied to Drew, and to myself.”

Katherine leaned forward, but she kept her voice very low and mild. “Why do you suppose Drew is there in your dream, your dream of the night Darren died?”

“I lied then, too,” Emma murmured. “I didn’t keep my promise. I didn’t take care of Darren. We lost him. Da and Bev lost each other. I’d sworn to them that I would always look after him. That I’d keep him safe. But I broke my promise. No one ever punished me. No one ever blamed me.”

“But you did. Haven’t you blamed yourself? Punished yourself?”

“If I hadn’t run away—he called to me.” For an instant it flashed into her mind. The way his voice had raced after her as she’d fled down the dark hall. “He was so scared, but I didn’t go back to him. I knew they were going to hurt him, but I ran. And he died. I should have stayed. I was supposed to stay.”

“Could you have helped him?”

“I ran because I was afraid for myself.”

“You were a child, Emma.”

“What difference does that make? I made a promise. You don’t break promises to people you love, no matter how difficult
they are to keep. I made one to Drew, and I stayed because…”

“Because?”

“Because I deserved to be punished.” She dosed her eyes on a dull, dreary horror. “Oh God. Did I stay all those months because I wanted to be punished for losing Darren?”

Katherine allowed herself only the briefest moment of satisfaction. This was exactly what she’d been hoping for. “I think that’s part of it. You’ve said before that Drew reminded you of Brian. You’ve blamed yourself for Darren’s death, and in a child’s mind, punishment follows guilt.”

“I didn’t know Drew was violent when I married him.”

“No. You were attracted to what you saw on the surface. A beautiful young man with a beautiful voice. Romantic, charming. You chose someone you thought was gentle and affectionate.”

“I was wrong.”

“Yes, you were wrong about Drew. He deceived you and many others. Because he was so attractive, so loving on the outside, you became convinced that you deserved what he did to you. He used your vulnerability, exploited it and compounded it. You didn’t ask to be battered, Emma. And you weren’t to blame for his sickness. Just as you weren’t to blame for your brother’s death.” She took Emma’s hand. “I believe when you accept that, completely, you’ll remember the rest. Once you remember, the nightmares will pass.”

“I will remember,” Emma murmured. “And I won’t run this time.”

T
HE LOFT HAD
hardly changed. Marianne had added a few of her own bizarre touches. A full-sized blowup of Godzilla, an enormous plastic palm tree that was still decorated for Christmas though the January white sales were in full swing, and a stuffed minah bird that swung on a perch in front of the window. Her paintings dominated the walls, landscapes, seascapes, portraits, and still-lifes. The studio smelled of paint, turpentine, and Calvin Klein’s Obsession.

Emma sat on a stool in a slash of sunlight wearing a sweatshirt that drooped off one shoulder and the sapphire and diamond earrings her father had given her for Christmas.

“You’re not relaxed,” Marianne complained as she stroked a pencil over her pad.

“You always say that when you sketch me.”

“No, you’re really not relaxed.” Marianne stuck the pencil in her hair. It was a mass of curls now that just skimmed her shoulders. She sat back to drum her fingers on the pad and study Emma. “Is it being here, in New York?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” But she’d been tense the last couple of days in London as well, unable to shake the feeling she was being watched, followed. Stalked.

Stupid. She took three deliberate breaths. In all likelihood the tension stemmed from finally acknowledging her guilt and shame, and her anger, which revolved around Darren and Drew. And yet, once she had, she felt relief.

“You want to quit?” Even as she asked, Marianne took out the pencil and began to sketch again. She’d always wanted to capture that quiet, haunted look in Emma’s eyes. “We could run uptown, go to Bloomies, or go to Elizabeth Arden ’s for the works. I haven’t had a facial in weeks.”

“I’ve been meaning to mention how haggard you look.” She smiled so that the dimple winked at the corner of her mouth. “What is it, vitamins, macrobiotics, sex? You look wonderful.”

“I think it might be love.”

“The dentist?”

“Who? Oh, no. Talk of root canals destroyed our relationship. His name’s Ross. I met him about six months ago.”

“Six months ago.” Emma arched a brow. “And you never mentioned him.”

“I thought I might jinx it.” With a shrug, Marianne turned the pad and started a new sketch. “Shift a little, would you? Turn your head. Yeah.”

“Serious.” Emma glanced out the window. Her stomach did a little loop so that she had to inhale slowly. People were hurrying along below, chased by a chill wind that threatened rain or sleet. There was a man standing in the doorway of the deli, smoking. She would have sworn he looked right at her. “What?” she said when she heard Marianne’s voice.

“I said it could be. I’d like it to be. The problem is, he’s a senator.”

“As in U.S.?”

“The gentleman from Virginia. Can you see me as one of those classy Washington wives?”

“Yes,” Emma said and smiled. “I can.”

“Teas and protocol.” Marianne wrinkled her nose. “I can’t imagine actually having to sit through a speech on the defense budget. What are you staring at?”

“Oh. Nothing.” With a quick shake of her head, Emma shifted her gaze. “There’s just a man standing down on the street.”

“Imagine that. In downtown New York. You’re tensing up again.”

“Sorry.” Deliberately she looked away and tried to relax. “Paranoia,” she said, hoping for a light touch. “So, do I get to meet the politician?”

“He’s in D.C.” In two strokes Marianne penciled in Emma’s brow. “If you weren’t in such a hurry to get back to L.A., you could go down with me next weekend.”

“It is serious then.”

“Semi. Emma, what is so fascinating out there?”

“It’s just this man. It’s almost as if he’s looking right at me.”

“Sounds more like vanity than paranoia.” Pushing herself up, Marianne walked to the window. “Probably waiting to make a drug deal,” she decided. She moved away again to pick up her long-neglected coffee cup. “In the serious vein, what about Michael? Are you going to give the man and his dog a break?”

“I want to take my time.”

“You’ve been taking your time with Michael since you were thirteen,” Marianne pointed out. “What’s it like to have a man carry a torch for you for over ten years?”

“It’s not like that.”

“It’s exactly like that. In fact, I’m surprised he managed to stay on the Coast when you told him you were going to visit here for a couple of days before flying back.”

“He wants to get married.”

“Well, you could knock me over with a twenty-foot crane. Who’d have guessed it?”

“I suppose I haven’t wanted to think about what happens next.”

“That’s only because you’ve blocked the M word out of your vocabulary for a while. So what are you going to do about it?”

“It?”

“The two Ms. Marriage and Michael.”

“I don’t know.” She looked out the window again. He was still there, standing patiently. “I’m going to wait until I see him again. We both may feel differently now that things have settled down, and our lives are getting back to normal. Dammit.”

“What?”

“I don’t know why I didn’t realize it before. Da’s hired a bodyguard again.” She turned her head quickly, eyes narrowed. “Did you know about this?”

“No.” Marianne stirred herself to go to the window and look out again. “Brian never said a word to me. Look, the guy’s just standing around. Why automatically assume he’s there for you?”