Eyes (16 page)

“With brandy?”

Doug nodded. “Remy Martin.”

“That's good in eggnog.”

Jill was sitting on the couch when Doug came back with her drink. Since he didn't have the proper glassware, he'd poured it into a beer mug on which was printed
FROM THE LAND OF SKY BLUE WATERS
. H
AMMS
.
THE BEER THAT REFRESHES
. “Sorry about the mug. I'm not really set up for entertaining.”

“That's okay.” Jill laughed. “I'm not really set up for entertaining, either. As a matter of fact, my house will probably be wrecked before I get back.”

As she took a sip of the eggnog, Doug studied her face. She looked tense and disappointed. Something had happened to upset her, and she needed to get it off her chest. He sat down in the chair across from her and gave her an encouraging smile. “What's happening at your house—to wreck it?”

“A party. It was going on when I got home, and I . . . I left.”

Doug nodded. “Then you weren't the hostess?”

“No. I didn't know anything about it until I walked in. Some of his friends from the department brought the party to him.”

Doug raised his eyebrows. It was clear that Jill was talking about Neil, but she'd taken pains not to mention his name. There was definitely trouble in paradise.

“He didn't even call to tell me.” Jill took another sip of eggnog. “This is good, Doug. You made it yourself?”

“It's my grandmother's recipe. Do you want to tell me why you're so upset, or would you rather talk about something else?”

“Something else.” Jill didn't meet his eyes. “I'll tell you, but . . . not right now. Your Christmas tree looks beautiful.”

“Thanks. See those little handblown glass strawberries? They've been in my family for generations.”

“That gives you a nice sense of continuity.” Jill looked up at him, then lowered her eyes. “When I got home, he was with Lisa.”

Doug struggled to remember, but he was sure that she had never mentioned anyone named Lisa. “Who's Lisa?”

“She's his TA. At least, she was. And now she's his . . . his mistress. He told me it was over, but it's not.”

Doug nodded and kept his mouth firmly closed. Jill would tell him if he didn't prompt her.

“I almost divorced him when I found out about it. I caught them together at our old apartment, but he promised me he'd never see her again. Then we moved and everything was going to be all right, but she was with him on his Chicago book tour. I almost divorced him again, right before Christmas last year.”

“But you didn't.” Doug wasn't questioning her. He was just stating a fact.

“I couldn't. My attorney advised me to wait until we'd done our taxes, because there'd be all sorts of tax liabilities if I filed before the end of the year. So I waited. And then, the morning I was going to file the papers, he . . . he ended up at the hospital.”

Doug clenched his hands together. He wanted to strangle the bastard who'd hurt Jill so badly, but that wouldn't help her. “You stuck with him because you felt sorry for him?”

Jill dipped her head in a nod. “That's part of it. I did feel sorry for him, but I had another selfish reason. I knew I couldn't live with myself if I kicked him when he was down.”

“The old sense of fair play?”

Jill nodded again. “I guess that was it. And I really wanted to be a good wife, like my mother was to my father. But my father never . . . He wasn't like that at all. He
loved
my mother!”

Doug heard the undertone of anguish in Jill's voice, and he knew that she was sure Neil didn't love her.

“Do you remember Helen?”

Doug nodded and resisted the urge to wipe away the tears he saw in her eyes. “I think so. Isn't she the companion you hired?”

“That's right. She was the best. She quit right after she found out he was sleeping with Lisa. He gave me a pendant, a little gold heart with a diamond. He told me he'd designed it himself, and it was an original.”

Doug nodded. “I saw it the day you wore it to the office. It wasn't an original?”

“No.” Jill's voice was choked with emotion. “He had one made for Lisa, too. She was wearing it tonight.”

“That's why you left the party?”

“That's one reason.” Jill took another sip of her eggnog. “The other is . . . I went up to the room my father used for an office and I . . . I found them in bed.”

Doug couldn't stand it any longer. Jill looked so miserable he sat down on the couch and put an arm around her shoulders. “Why don't you go ahead and cry? I've got a full box of Kleenex, and it'll make you feel better.”

“No, it won't!” Jill shook her head. “I'm all cried out, Doug. I cried the first time I caught them together, and I cried when I found out she was with him at his Chicago book signing. I'm sick of crying, Doug. It's . . . it's so fucking female!”

Doug couldn't help it. He started to laugh. Then Jill was laughing, too, holding him the way he'd always hoped she would, her arms clamped around his neck and her face pressed against the front of his shirt.

They stayed like that for several minutes, laughing at something that wasn't really funny. Doug wanted it to last forever, but at last Jill pulled back and wiped her eyes.

“Sorry, Doug. I ruined your Christmas Eve. I really didn't mean to barge in here and dump on you, but I guess you're my only friend.”

“I know that's not true.” Doug handed her a tissue. “You have lots of friends, Jill. Still, I'd like to think that I'm your best friend.”

“You are. Am I your best friend?”

“Definitely.” Doug nodded solemnly. “And since we're best friends, I want you to join me in a Lake family tradition. Just get up, shut your eyes, and follow me.”

Jill began to smile. “All right. Where are we going?”

“To the bedroom.”

“The bedroom?” Jill began to look a little nervous. “But . . . why?”

“That's a secret. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Jill nodded and got up from the couch. “Okay. I'm shutting my eyes.”

Doug took her hand and led her into the bedroom. He walked her over to the edge of the bed and sighed as he told her to sit down. Jill was finally in his bedroom, but this wasn't the time to indulge any of his fantasies. It was time for a Lake family tradition, just as he'd told her.

“Stay right there and keep your eyes closed.” There was a hint of laughter in Doug's voice as he walked over to the dresser and got the two, foil-wrapped packages on top. “Hold out your hand, palm up.”

Jill held out her hand. “Okay.”

Doug put one of the foil-wrapped packages in her hand and pulled her up from the edge of the bed. “We're going back to the living room. Keep your eyes closed and I'll lead you.”

Jill was grinning as they retraced their steps, and Doug was glad that he'd restrained himself. He knew he'd always remember the way she'd looked, sitting on the edge of his bed. His buddies would say he was a fool for passing up such a golden opportunity. Jill might have slept with him if he'd pushed it. But he was playing for much higher stakes than a one-night stand with a woman who was disillusioned with her husband.

When Jill was seated on the couch again, Doug couldn't resist staring at her for a moment. Even though there were traces of tears on her cheeks, she looked so beautiful she almost took his breath away. “Okay, Jill. You can open your eyes now.”

She did and stared down at the object in her hand. Then she started to smile. “It's a chocolate Santa!”

“That's right. We got them from See's Candies when I lived in Texas, but Fanny Farmer's are just as good. Now peel down the foil so his head is exposed.”

“Okay.” Jill peeled down the foil. “Now what?”

“Now bite it off!”

“You want me to bite off Santa's head?” Jill tried to look outraged, but she laughed instead.

“Absolutely! It's a family tradition. You've got to do it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jill's eyes were sparkling. “I'm not objecting on moral grounds, but what good does it do?”

“It's very simple. You're sending Santa a message that he'd better bring you what you want for Christmas . . . or else!”

Jill shrugged. “It's too late for me. I already opened all my presents at the office Christmas party. Will it work for next year?”

“Sure.” Doug managed to hide his surprise. Didn't Neil and Jill exchange Christmas presents? “Santa's got excellent long-term memory. Just think about what you want for Christmas next year and then bite off his head.”

“Okay, but you have to do it, too. Are you ready?”

Doug nodded and they both bit down. As the sweet, dark taste of chocolate filled his mouth, he knew exactly what he wanted. He was hoping Jill would stop feeling guilty about Neil's eyesight and divorce him. Even more important, he was wishing that she would fall in love with him.

“There!” Jill's eyes were warm as they met his. “I did it, and it was delicious. I just hope our wishes come true.”

Doug nodded. “So do I.”

As they finished their chocolate Santas, Doug was deep in thought. Jill had seemed very serious about her wish. Was it even remotely possible that they were wishing for the same thing?

CHAPTER 18

The party was over and Neil knew he had some apologizing to do. He'd sent Norma home, and he was sitting on the couch, waiting for Jill to come back. Norma had told him what had happened, and although he'd tried to charm her, she hadn't even cracked a smile. If she was so angry at him, Jill would be spitting bullets by the time she got home.

According to Norma, Jill had gone to see a friend. Neil was mildly curious, but he was sure it wasn't a male friend. Jill was probably out there somewhere, driving around and crying over his indiscretion. It was a pattern he knew all too well. She'd sniffle for a while, and then she'd start feeling like a victim. After that had passed, she'd head for home to confront him, fighting mad.

Norma hadn't wanted to leave. She'd said she'd promised to stay until Jill got home and she never broke a promise. It had taken all Neil's powers of persuasion, but at last she had gone. He sipped the ice water she'd brought him and rehearsed what he'd say when Jill came through the door.

I'm sorry, honey.
He'd look terribly contrite.
I had two of Tom's drinks before I realized how strong they were, and I started to get depressed. You know how it is. Everyone else was having such a good time, but you weren't here with me. I missed you, Jill.

She wouldn't give an inch, but she'd be thinking about what he'd said.
If you missed me that much, you should have called.

Who?
Jill's eyes would narrow.

Jill's voice would be tight.
I didn't get the message. Are you sure she called?

That's no excuse for sleeping with her!
Jill would glare at him.
You broke your promise to me!

Jill wouldn't say anything. She'd be too busy thinking, buying part of his excuse.

That would get to her. Jill was a romantic, and his plaintive words would tug at her heartstrings. She wouldn't forgive him right away. It might take a week or so, but eventually she would. And when she'd forgiven him, things would go back to the old status quo.

Neil sighed deeply. He actually felt a little guilty about what he'd done. He hadn't meant to embarrass Jill, and he knew she shouldn't have taken Lisa up to the guest room in front of their friends. Unfortunately, he had. Now Jill would make him do penance before she granted him absolution.

Neil began to grin as he realized he was comparing his wife to a priest. That wasn't surprising. Jill followed the rules. She was one of life's innately good people. When he'd married her, he'd really thought he could be a good husband, but that dream had gone down the tubes the first day Lisa had walked into his office.

He'd always been a sucker for blondes, and Lisa had been no exception. She was prettier than most graduate students, with a figure a lingerie model could envy. With her sexy, sleepy-eyed look, it seemed she'd just climbed out of bed and was dying to get back there. Lisa had been ripe for the plucking, and he'd known it.

“I really need to raise my grade, Professor Bradley.” Her voice had been soft and seductive. “Is there any way you could give me some extra help?”

He'd only been married to Jill for a year, and he'd struggled to resist temptation. He'd given Lisa his standard speech, telling her to reread the material and study every night.

“But it's so hard to study alone. I was hoping you could give me an hour or two, every week. I know you're busy, but it could be anytime you're free . . . even midnight.”

The invitation had been very clear, written in her eyes as well as her words. Neil had given it one more shot, the attempt to remain faithful. He'd offered to give her the name of a tutor.

“I tried that, but he doesn't explain things the way you do in class. Please, Professor Bradley . . . I really need you.”

He'd reminded himself that he loved Jill and she expected him to be a devoted husband. He'd offered to tutor Lisa in his office, when there would be other people present.

“Oh, thank you!” Lisa had given him a radiant smile. “But . . . I'm afraid that won't work. I'm taking a full load this semester, so I don't have any free time during the day. I know it's an imposition, but could you possibly tutor me after hours?”

She'd leaned forward then, and he'd caught a glimpse of her perfectly rounded breasts. No bra, and they thrust forward against the silken material of her blouse.

“We live in the same apartment building, Professor. I've seen you by the elevator. I could come to your place . . . or you could come to mine.”

That had done it. She was luscious and convenient. And he'd been so bored after his classes were over. Jill was working long hours, trying to climb up the ladder in the DA's office. She'd never have to know.

“Give me your number and I'll call you.” He'd taken the number and tucked it into his pocket.

“Oh, thank you, Professor!” She'd reached out to take his hand, her fingers lingering a little longer than was necessary. “You really don't know what this means to me.”

He'd glanced at the number several times that week. He'd almost decided to throw it away when Jill had called and said she had to work late.

It had been the hottest night of the year, and the air conditioning in the building had broken down. Lisa had greeted him in a tight pair of white shorts that left nothing to the imagination and a short, pink tank top that had barely covered her breasts. Only a monk could have resisted that kind of temptation.

Once he'd started with Lisa, she hadn't been the only one. It was like the dam of fidelity had broken and he was a free man once more. He'd always enjoyed women, and he'd loved them often and well. It might have been different if Jill hadn't been so wrapped up in her career, but she worked late most nights and all day on Saturdays.

Neil had never been able to stand being alone. Now he wasn't. There had been wives of colleagues, several students, and a secretary who'd worked in the history department. He'd managed to keep those affairs a secret, but the day of reckoning had come when Jill had caught him with Lisa.

Jill had cried and asked him how he'd feel if she were the one having an affair. He'd thought about it for a moment, and then he'd given her the answer she'd wanted to hear. He'd be devastated, of course. The thought of her in another man's arms was so painful he couldn't bear to imagine it. But he'd known that Jill was just playing tricks with words. Jill would never have an affair. She wouldn't even consider sleeping with another man. Why should she when they were so good together and he gave her everything she needed in bed?

If only she could be more flexible! Neil shook his head and sighed. In all other ways she was a perfect wife, but she did have one major fault. Jill assumed that by marrying him she'd earned the right to inflict her puritanical values on him. She was incapable of understanding that Lisa was nothing but a diversion, a pleasant way to pass the time when Jill wasn't home.

His hands were clenched. Neil took a deep breath and relaxed them. This wasn't the time to give vent to his anger. He had to pretend to be remorseful, to beg Jill's forgiveness for his momentary lapse.

He might actually have to give up Lisa. Jill would be more suspicious this time around, so it might be wise to call it quits. Of course he'd miss Lisa, but there were always pretty women on the campus. He wouldn't be alone for long.

* * *

Connie was seated at a corner booth in the bar, nursing a vodka gimlet. She didn't like vodka gimlets, but they had been Alan's favorite drinks and she'd hoped she might feel closer to him by ordering one.

The day had not gone well at all. Connie had left Ian at the convalescent center and gone straight to the next address on her list. Kathy Miller had received Alan's spleen. Though Connie knew another woman couldn't possibly help her, she'd wanted to meet Kathy to see what kind of person she was.

The Miller home was in North Minneapolis, so Connie locked her doors and kept her car windows rolled up as she'd turned off Lincoln Avenue and driven past boarded-up buildings and graffiti-scarred block walls. Several times, when she'd been forced to stop at red lights, groups of black teenagers had stared at her, suspicious of a white face in their neighborhood. Connie had wanted to shout out that she was just passing through, but she'd been afraid her words might arouse anger. Instead, she'd kept a determined smile on her face and she'd avoided all eye contact with anyone who looked like a gang member.

There had been no Christmas decorations in this neighborhood. The only concession to the season had been a hand-painted sign in a liquor-store window, advertising a Christmas special on Bud Lite. She'd seen a dope deal going down, folded money exchanged for a plastic envelope; but she had looked away, pretending not to notice.

Connie's hands had been shaking as she'd turned down Morgan Avenue. This had once been a nice residential area, but now all the houses had wrought-iron security bars on the doors and windows.

She'd pulled over to the curb in front of Kathy Miller's house, a well-kept older home with a shoveled walkway and a Christmas wreath on the door. It also had security bars. Connie had pressed the buzzer, armed with the bouquet of flowers she'd brought.

“Yes?” A young black woman had opened the inner door to peer out through the security bars.

Connie had smiled. The woman had seemed distracted, but she hadn't appeared unfriendly. “My name is Chloe White, and I have a delivery, a bouquet for Kathy Miller.”

“For Kathy?” The woman had looked startled for a moment; then she'd blinked back tears. “Thank you. It must be for her funeral. Kathy died yesterday.”

Connie had felt a rush of sympathy. “I'm so terribly sorry. They should have told me before they sent me out here.”

“That's okay, hon.” The woman opened the door to take the bouquet. “I'll put these in water. It'll give Mama a lift when she comes home from the funeral parlor.”

Connie was halfway to her car when the woman called her back. “Hold on, hon. There's no card. Do you know who these are from?”

“Uh . . . yes, I do.” Connie said the first name that popped into her head. “They're from her friend, Alan.”

Connie's mind hadn't been on the traffic as she'd driven back to her hotel room. She'd been thinking about Kathy Miller and wishing she knew what had caused her death. Connie had spent weeks reading about organ transplants, and she knew there were risks. Patients could die from the surgery itself, or the anesthesia. After the surgery was completed, there was the possibility of infection. Patients who needed transplants were sometimes weakened by disease; they could lack the stamina to recuperate. And even if the patient lived through all those risks, there was always the rejection factor. A recipient's body could refuse to accept the donor's organ, despite treatment with antirejection drugs. Learning of Kathy Miller's death had sobered Connie. She realized she had to get to the other names on her list as quickly as possible.

The cocktail waitress, a hard-eyed brunette who was wearing a ridiculously short, green velvet skirt and a red satin blouse that exposed her cleavage, stopped by Connie's booth. “Do you want a refill?”

“No.” Connie motioned toward her glass. “You can take this away.”

The waitress looked worried as she picked up the glass. “Is something wrong with your drink?”

“It's fine.” Connie smiled to reassure her. “I'm just not in the mood for a gimlet.”

“How about a Brandy Alexander? We make 'em in the blender with chocolate ice cream, and they really pack a wallop.”

“That sounds great.” Connie watched her walk away and then she started to grin. She loved chocolate ice cream, but she hadn't eaten it since she'd met Alan. He liked chocolate, but it gave him hives. She hadn't wanted to tempt him by having it in the house.

Connie's grin disappeared as she thought about Alan. She knew he was still with her, but remembering his face without looking at his picture was getting more difficult with each passing day. At first, his image had been clear. She'd been able to remember the special smile he'd had for her, how his eyes would turn warm when she came into the room, the way his hair curled right above his ears when it was wet from a shower. She'd remembered the feel of his arms around her, the touch of his lips on her skin. All that was fading now, and Connie knew she had to do something to bring it back before Alan was lost to her, forever.

She reached into her purse and pulled out her list. She had to have Alan's baby. It was the only way to keep him alive. But the next name was Shelly Devore's. She'd received Alan's pancreas. Although a woman couldn't help her in her quest for Alan's child, Connie decided to take flowers to Miss Devore tomorrow. She felt an obligation to meet everyone who had received a part of Alan to see if they were worthy of the honor.