Fidelity - SF6 (9 page)

She was shaking so hard she thought she would fall. All at once it became clear to her. Jim actually thought she was trying to use his infidelity as a weapon against him. Forcing her lungs to project enough air to make her voice heard, she gasped. "I would never do anything like that! I don’t want to hurt Jamie–that’s why I haven’t told her!"

"How stupid do you think I am?" he roared, looking like he was going to throttle her. She jumped back from him through instinct alone, trying to keep enough space to prevent an assault. "Nobody puts the screws to me, Ryan. Your little game is over. I’m going to put a stop to this nonsense right now."

"What are you going to do?" she asked, her voice quavering so badly that her words were nearly indecipherable.

"I’m going to make sure that you’re never alone with her again," he thundered, causing Ryan to break out in a sweat at the mere thought of never holding her partner again. "I’m going to see to it that she stays with her mother in Rhode Island until school starts." He leaned toward her once again, his body seemingly larger than it actually was. "I’m going to stop you, Ryan. You do not want to defy me on this. You can do it the easy way, or the hard way." Standing at his full height again he demanded, "Do I have your word that you will stay out of her life?"

Ryan took several deep breaths, fighting to maintain her equilibrium. Her brain was racing with the implications of his threat, but there was no hesitancy in her response. "I can’t do that," she said slowly, but with firm resolve.

"Can’t or won’t?" he asked menacingly, his green eyes boring into her like lasers.

"Both," she replied as she gulped audibly. "I won’t, because I love her with all my heart, and I promised I would never let anything keep us apart." She found that her hand had unconsciously risen to her ear and twirled the blue diamond that rested there. "That promise comes before anything. I can’t, because even if I stopped seeing her, she would not let me go. She loves me! Can’t you see that?"

"No, I can’t," he nearly spat. "I’ve given you the options, Ryan. If you’re as smart as you think you are, you’ll choose the easy way out."

He leaned even closer…so close that she could see the tiny blood vessels in his green eyes. His voice grew quieter, but the menace in his tone increased until Ryan began to shiver once again. "I’m going to see to it that you stop seeing each other. I’m not a person that you wish to have as an enemy, young woman. I’ve made short work out of far more formidable opponents than you." He stood up abruptly and walked towards the door. "I want you out of here by the time she returns." His hand was resting on the doorknob as he said, "If you can make it seem like this is your idea, I guarantee that your life will improve in some very significant ways." Walking halfway across the threshold he added ominously, "The converse is also true, Ryan."

The long drive from Boston to Newport was a tedious necessity since Catherine did not care for the small planes that Newport airport could accommodate. Luckily, the family limousine made the trip bearable, allowing both women to stretch out in comfort. Jamie made the most of the space, falling asleep almost immediately.

"We’re nearly there, Dear." Catherine’s gentle voice woke Jamie, and as she slowly blinked her eyes open, she saw that they were already in Newport.

"I feel like I’ve been drugged," she mumbled, pushing her hair from her eyes and sitting up in her seat.

"If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had been," Catherine agreed, a smile curling the edge of her mouth. "Luckily I brought a good book, because all of the conversation I’ve gotten from you has been you muttering Ryan’s name a few times in your sleep."

She was clearly teasing, but Jamie was embarrassed nonetheless. "Umm…is that all I said…just her name?"

Smiling fondly at her daughter, Catherine reassured her. "Yes, Dear, it was very innocent. Rather sweet, I might add."

Her blush grew brighter as Jamie informed her mother, "I was dreaming about her." She sighed deeply and stretched a little, feeling like she’d been in a straitjacket for the last few hours. "I really miss her."

"Of course you do," Catherine allowed. "You’re supposed to miss your beloved, Jamie."

Cocking her head slightly, Jamie asked, "Did you ever have to be away from Daddy when you were newlyweds?"

The older woman thought for a few minutes, trying to recall her early years with Jim. "Not when we were married, but he did go on a trip when we were dating." Laughing softly she recalled, "We nearly broke up over it, to tell you the truth."

"What happened?" It was unusual for Catherine to share stories of the early years of her courtship and marriage, and Jamie was fascinated by this glimpse into her mother’s past.

"It seems so silly now," Catherine admitted, laughing softly at her youthful insecurities. "Your father was in law school while I was still in college, as you know. His spring break was several weeks after mine, and he made plans to go to Reno with some of his buddies from college."

"Without you?" Jamie asked.

"Quite," Catherine confirmed. "That was made quite clear. This was a little getaway for Jim and some of his friends from the football team. I wouldn’t have minded so much if it was his law school friends, but this crowd was really quite wild, and I did not want him to go."

"My guess is that he didn’t like to be told what to do," Jamie posited, recognizing the same trait in herself.

"He didn’t then, and he doesn’t now," Catherine agreed. "Little did I know that one day I’d have two of you with the same pet peeves!"

Jamie accepted the comparison with a smile. "So how did it turn out?"

"You know, he wasn’t even very excited about the trip until I forbade him to go," she recalled. "Then, of course, it became vital that he attend!"

"Ouch!" Jamie empathized. "You must have been furious."

"Oh, I was angry," Catherine admitted. A pensive look came over her and she paused for a moment. "But it obviously blew over, because we decided to get married later that spring."

"Wow," Jamie mused, "he must have realized how much he missed you while he was gone."

"Perhaps." Catherine smiled at her daughter, and pointed out the window. "There’s the first view of the point, Dear."

Jamie looked out and saw the spit of land that the Dunlop estate occupied. The view only lasted for a moment, before the road curved and obliterated it. "We’re almost there," she agreed.

"Indeed. Are you ready to live in the lap of luxury for an entire week?" Catherine’s twinkling brown eyes were full of fond regard for her daughter. She knew that Jamie did not feel comfortable in the big house with the servants and the lavish displays of wealth that this branch of the family reveled in , which made her all the more grateful that her daughter had agreed to make the trip.

"Bring it on," Jamie encouraged. "If Ryan has her way, we’ll be shopping at the Army/Navy surplus for our clothes and Goodwill for house-wares. I might as well soak it up while I can."

The limo pulled into the long drive off the main road, the tires crunching loudly over the oyster-shell surface. Jamie lowered her window and smiled as she heard the crackles and pops. The sea air was thick and heavy with moisture, and she turned to her mother with an excited grin. "I’d forgotten how familiar this all is to me. I can still remember riding bikes down this drive and hearing those shells crack under the weight of my tires."

Sharing her smile and her recollections, Catherine said, "I don’t know why, but the ocean even smells different here. You’d think the Atlantic and the Pacific would have the same feeling, but they really don’t."

"No, they don’t," Jamie agreed. Cocking her head, she asked, "I don’t know why but I have a memory of your father being here with us. Was he?"

Catherine reached over and squeezed her hand, smiling softly as she said, "The year before he died, he finally agreed to come with us. I think that was the longest period of time you and he ever spent together. You had a fabulous time." Her voice cracked a little, and Jamie gave her a return squeeze.

"I’m glad I came with you, Mother. It’s nice to be able to share these things with you."

"Indeed it is," Catherine agreed, taking in a deep breath, letting the familiar smells of the ocean waft over her like a cloud. Without conscious thought, her mind wandered to a picture of a very young Jamie sitting on her grandfather’s lap while he captained them around Narragansett Bay. Even though Bill Smith had lived just up El Camino Real in Atherton–mere minutes from Hillsborough, Jim and Catherine had not seen him frequently. The older man had little patience with infants, and only slightly more with toddlers, so they kept most of their visits to an occasional Sunday brunch at the club, or holiday dinners. But on this one trip, something about Jamie had captivated him. Perhaps it was because Jamie was an extraordinarily mature child, able to converse with adults at a very young age. Or maybe it was because Bill had the time to really relax and enjoy the young child, with few interruptions, or other obligations. Whatever it was, Catherine mused that she had rarely been as happy as she was during that month. Her father bonding with her child was a wish she had never seriously held out hope for, and to have it given to her was enormously rewarding.

Sadly, only a few months after that trip his health began to fail, and shortly after Christmas he passed away, leaving Catherine completely bereft. Jamie had obviously retained some faint memories of that trip, but they had rarely spoken of that time together, indeed had rarely spoken of her father at all. Instead, Catherine often pulled those lovely times from her memory bank and savored them gratefully, but alone. Speaking of it now, she realized how much more fulfilling it would have been to let her daughter share in her grief and longing at the time of her father’s death. She honestly thought that she was doing the right thing at the time, that Jamie was too young to understand death and the impact it had. But looking back, she realized that she had squandered an opportunity to grow closer to her daughter.
How many of those chances have you ignored or found that you were too afraid to capitalize on, Catherine? Well, no more! Jamie’s doing her very best to give you another try–and you’re not going to ruin this opportunity!

As the servants carried their things into the house, Jamie whispered, "It’s nearly ten o’clock. Shouldn’t someone be up by now?"

"You know that your Uncle David was never a morning person," Catherine reminded her. "And since he’s just getting over the flu, I’d expect that he’d be taking it easier than normal."

That would be comatose
, Jamie mused to herself, thinking of her uncle’s normal lethargic routine. David Dunlop was the brother of Catherine’s mother, Phoebe. He had inherited the estate, or "cottage" as the family insisted upon calling it, upon his mother’s death in the early 1960s. Jamie had not seen him for an extended period in twelve years, but even then he was almost completely inactive. His health was actually fine,
perhaps because he uses his body so infrequently
, she thought with a mental smirk.

"May I show you to your rooms?" asked the white-jacketed, bow-tied young man who had carried their bags in.

"Certainly," Catherine said, and she and Jamie followed the man up the central staircase. The suite they were shown to was, in Jamie's recollection, the same one that they had occupied during their previous visits. Near the back of the house, the two generous bedrooms were connected by a very large bath. Both rooms had a view of the ocean, and Jamie immediately opened her windows to let in the fresh breeze. Like most grand houses of the period, the house was not air conditioned, but there was nearly always a good breeze, and each room had a large transom over the door to allow for a cross breeze from one room to the next.

"Mr. Dunlop has asked me to tell you that the family will gather at eleven for brunch. Will you be able to attend?"

"Of course," Catherine replied, and Jamie saw her nap fly out the window. "You’ll join us, won’t you, Jamie?"

"Wouldn’t miss it," she smiled, reminding herself that she was here to spend the time visiting with her mother, not catching up on her sleep. "What was your name?" she asked the young man who was exiting the room.

"Duncan," he replied evenly.

"Good to meet you, Duncan," Jamie said.

"It’s a pleasure." His face remained expressionless, and Jamie mused that Duncan looked less than happy with his job.
He probably hates to have a house full of people here for a month. I bet Uncle David keeps him hopping–and doesn’t give him a dime more in salary…for hazard pay!

As Jamie was getting ready for brunch she heard a knock on the door. "Come in, Mother," she called.

Catherine opened the door just a few inches and asked, "Do you have a moment? I need to talk to you."

"Sure, come on in."

Jamie had just started to change for brunch and she paused in mid-action, not quite knowing whether she should continue to undress, or put her travel clothes back on. She had been slightly uncomfortable to have her mother see her undressed for years now, and the fight they had over Christmas break didn’t help the issue. Catherine had seen her daughter nearly naked when she was getting ready for a bike ride, and the older woman was dismayed over the muscles that Jamie had developed through her workouts. It had actually been quite upsetting for both of them, and Jamie was a little afraid of having a repeat of the argument.

As Catherine entered the room, she averted her eyes and said quickly, "Let me come back when you’ve changed."

Steeling herself, Jamie decided to accept this small test. She needed to force herself to act more naturally around her mother, and changing clothes was one such act. "No, it’s fine. I don’t mind," she reassured her.

"All right," Catherine said with some hesitation, then walked over and sat on the upholstered window seat and began watching the boats plying the waters.

Jamie had taken her clothes out of the suitcase and was in the process of placing them in her dresser when her mother had entered. She was clad only in her bra and panties, but she forced herself to continue her tasks as if she was alone. She had only one outfit to hang in the closet, and as she did so, her mother laughed softly. "Are you staying the whole week?" she asked.

"Yes, I just assumed that we’d go shopping. No sense in bringing clothes that I won’t wear," she said logically. "Did I guess correctly?"

"Yes, I’d love to go shopping tomorrow." There was a long pause and Catherine asked tentatively, "Do you still like to shop, Dear?"

"Lesbians don’t all wear jeans and Tshirts, Mother," she said in a slightly pointed tone.

"That’s not what I meant, Jamie," she began to say, but she stopped herself short. "I suppose that is what I meant to say after all," she admitted. "You’re just going through so many changes, I’m not sure what you like to do any longer."

"I think I’ll always like clothes," she assured her with a smile. "I think that’s the Dunlop genes coming through."

"It must be, because the Smiths are some of the most poorly attired people I’ve ever met!" Catherine laughed at her joke, continuing to stare intently at the boats that were visible from the window seat.

"So, what did you want to speak to me about?" Jamie asked as she stepped into a pair of celadon-colored linen slacks.

"I’m uncomfortable asking you for this favor, but it means a lot to me, so I’m going to ask anyway," she said as she nodded her head once in a decisive gesture.

"What is it, Mother?" Jamie was just about to put on a cream-colored cotton sleeveless v-neck sweater, but she walked over to her mother with the garment still in her hand.

Catherine took a deep breath and seemed to steel herself, finally looking Jamie directly in the eyes. "I wish you would not bring up your relationship with Ryan, at least in front of your great-aunts and uncles," she said firmly.

Sitting next to her mother on the window seat, Jamie blew out a breath and slipped her sweater over her head. After a few minutes she asked, "Do you mind telling me why?"

Catherine replied to that question with a question of her own. "Do you recall why you told me that you would not admit to your relationship when I first asked you about it?"