Home Song (28 page)

“Yes, I suppose we did.”

“Everybody's saying they never thought it could happen to you and Tom.”

“I never thought so either, but it did.”

“You need a shoulder to cry on?”

She picked up her bag and started walking. He fell into step beside her. “You offering one?”

“Yes, ma'am. I certainly am.”

She had known for years that he was attracted to her, but was nonetheless surprised by how fast he made his move. She had been married for too long to find this situation comfortable.

“John, it just happened day before yesterday. I don't even know yet if I should scream or cry.”

“Well, hell, you can scream on my shoulder, too, if that's what you want.”

“Thanks. I'll remember that.”

At the stage door he snapped off the last remaining light and let her go out first. It was a clear autumn night, complete with stars and the smell of dry leaves. Walking across the parking lot, she put plenty of distance between them.

“Listen,” he said, “you're going to need a friend. I'm just offering my services, nothing more, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed, relieved. He walked her to her car and waited while she unlocked the door and got in.

“Good night, and thanks.”

“See you tomorrow,” he said, and slammed the door with a two-handed push.

She left him standing there watching as she drove away. Her heart was thumping with a response resembling fear. John Handelman wouldn't hurt her. Why was she reacting this way? Because she hadn't expected that the announcement of her separation would make her into immediate date bait. She didn't want to date, for heaven's sake! She wanted to heal! How dare John move in on her that way?

At home Robby's and Chelsea's rooms were empty and
dark. She clunked around her bedroom, angry that they hadn't even left a note. They came in together at 10:30.

“All right, you two, where have you been?”

“At Erin's,” she answered.

“At Jeff's.”

“Your curfew is ten o'clock! Or have you forgotten?”

“So it's ten-thirty. Big deal,” Chelsea said, walking away.

“You get back here, young lady!”

She returned with an air of long-suffering. “What?”

“Nothing is changed because your dad isn't here anymore. You're in the house by ten and in bed by eleven on school nights, is that clear?”

“Why should we be here when nobody else is?”

“Because we have rules in this house, that's why.”

“I hate it here without Dad.”

“It's no different than when he lived here and stayed at school for meetings.”

“Yes, it is. It's morbid. And you're gone to play practice every night, so I'm going to go to Erin's.”

“You blame me for all of it, don't you?”

“Well, you're the one who threw him out.”

Robby had stood by saying nothing.

“Robby?” Claire invited.

He shuffled his feet and looked uncomfortable. “I don't see why you couldn't have let him stay here while you two worked it out. I mean, heck, he's pretty miserable. You could tell just by looking at him today.”

She subdued the urge to yell out her impatience, and made a sudden decision. “Come here, you two.” She took them into her bedroom and made them sit on the edge of her bed while she perched on a cedar chest beneath the window. “Robby, you said you don't see why I couldn't just let him stay here. Well, I'll tell you, and I'll tell you as honestly
as I can, because I think you're old enough to hear it. Your dad and I are still very sexual beings, and it was a part of our marriage that I—we—enjoyed very much. When I found out that he'd had sex with another woman a week before I married him, I felt betrayed. I still feel betrayed by that. Then some other things came to light that led me to believe there's still something between him and this other woman. I'm not going to elaborate because I don't want to pit you against your dad. But for me there's still some doubt about his faithfulness, and as long as I feel that, I can't live with him. You may think that's old-fashioned by today's standards, but I don't care. A vow is a vow and I cannot and will not live as an alternate wife.

“Then there's the very real living proof of his betrayal. Kent Arens. I see him every day in class, and what do you think it does to me when he walks in? Do you think it doesn't hurt all over again? Do you think I can just simply forgive your dad for putting you two in the embarrassing position of having to attend school in the same building with your illegitimate half brother? If it weren't so tragic it would almost be ludicrous, the five of us all in that school building, bumping into each other, pretending we're just one big happy family.

“Your father is Kent's father, and that fact—pardon me—is a little hard for me to swallow. And I'm sure you found out that everybody in the school building thought it was some pretty juicy news. It spread through the place like wildfire today. I hate that you two have to be subjected to it. That all
three
of us have to be subjected to it.

“Now I know you miss your dad. You may not believe it, but I do too. You don't stay married to a man for eighteen years without missing him when he's gone. But I hurt.” Claire put a hand over her heart and leaned toward them
earnestly. “I hurt very badly, and if I need some time to get over that hurt I expect you to understand me, not blame me for being the one to cause our breakup.”

She sat back on the cedar chest and took a deep breath. The children sat on the edge of the bed looking chastised. The room held a sadness so profound it seemed to press them in place. Claire saw she was the only one who could dispel it. “Now come here . . .” She opened her arms wide. “Come and give me a hug. I need one really badly right now. We all do.”

They came. They hugged. They lingered in their parting, smitten with the realization that there were two sides to this argument, and that their mother deserved her share of understanding.

“I love you,” Claire said with her cheeks sandwiched between theirs.

They both said, “I love you too.”

“And your dad loves you. Don't ever forget that. No matter what, he loves you, and he never meant to hurt you.”

“We know,” Robby said.

“Okay then . . .” She gave them a gentle nudge away. “It's been an awful day and we're all tired. I think it's time we got some sleep.”

Fifteen minutes later, with her face scrubbed and her nightgown on, Claire lay beneath the covers of her and Tom's bed with tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. She missed him. Oh God, she missed him so horribly. And she damned him for making her into this stubborn, defensive woman who had to show him she could live without him and would! He said there was nothing between him and Monica Arens anymore, but then why had Ruth seen them together? Why had his voice been so emotional when he talked to her on the phone? It hurt so badly being unable
to believe him after all the years of implicit trust. And it hurt even worse imagining sexual images of him with another woman.

But the images came and would not be dispelled. They appeared every night when Claire lay down in this bed where she and Tom had been intimate, where the smell of him still lingered in the sheets, and the wrinkles on his pillowcase could still be faintly seen. If she lived alone until she was a hundred she'd never get used to his warm, breathing presence being absent from the other half of the bed.

Sometimes a contrary thought came, though she didn't mean to be thinking in terms of getting even.

All right, so maybe you've got a mistress, Tom Gardner, but just don't think you're the only one who's still got some sex appeal left, because all I'd have to do is snap my fingers and John Handelman would be right in this bed beside me!

Afterward she'd feel guilty, as if she were actually considering committing adultery, even though it had been only a hollow threat.

One of them had to honor their vows for the children's sake, and if Tom hadn't, she would. After all, children needed role models, and part of her greatest disappointment in Tom was his falling from grace in their eyes.

Her eyes would be bloodshot again in the morning . . . damn him, too, for causing that . . . and for making her live without him, which she hated . . . and for making her the subject of school gossip . . . and the target of John Handelman's flirting . . .

She was still missing him when she finally lurched off to sleep.

 

The following day, she knew the moment Kent Arens walked into her classroom that he'd heard about her and
Tom's breakup. He'd always been distant and watchful. Today he seemed to be studying her with a somber intensity she could feel even when her back was turned.

She should have let Tom transfer him out when he'd suggested doing so. It was difficult to remain objective—let alone friendly—with your husband's illegitimate child. Her disfavor showed. She never called on him, let her eyes linger on him, or said hello when he walked past her door. When their gazes tangled, neither of them smiled. She felt terrible treating him that way, but his work remained exemplary, his average a perfect 4.0, so she excused herself and submerged her guilt.

That Tuesday when fifth period ended and the students filed out, Kent remained behind in his seat. Claire pretended not to see him while she tamped papers and checked her lesson plan book, but his presence was hard to miss. He unfolded his leggy body and came to stand smack in front of her.

“I heard about you and Mr. Gardner,” he said.

She leveled a loveless gaze on him and said, “Did you?”

He stood at ease, wearing jeans and a pale yellow V-necked sweater, looking so damned much like Tom.

“I suppose it's my fault,” he said.

Her heart melted as he faced her foursquare, owning up to guilt that wasn't his.

“No, of course not.”

“Then why do you treat me as if I'm not here?”

She blushed. “I'm sorry, Kent. I didn't realize I was doing that.”

“I think you do it on purpose, to punish me for being in this school.”

Hit squarely in her conscience, she took to her chair as if
a blow truly had been delivered. It left her short-breathed and quivering inside.

“You're very much like him,” she whispered.

“Am I? I wouldn't know.”

“He'd stand up to me the same way if he were in this situation. I admire you for it.”

“Then why did you leave him?”

“Really, Kent, I don't think that's any of your business.”

“If it isn't mine, whose is it? This wouldn't have happened if I hadn't moved into this school district. Am I wrong?”

They locked eyes for several seconds before she admitted, softly, “No, you're not.”

“So if you're not punishing me, who are you punishing? Him? Because if that's what you're doing, you should know that your kids are suffering too. I just don't see any sense in that. I grew up without a dad, so I know what it feels like. Your kids have one and you're taking him away from them. I'm sorry, Mrs. Gardner, but I don't think that's the right thing to do. Chelsea told me once how much she loves him, and yesterday in the locker room everybody could see that Robby was acting different already. He didn't even lead the team outside for practice.”

“I had a talk with my children last night. I think they understand my reasons for leaving Tom.”

“Do you think he's having an affair with my mother, or what? Because I asked her, and she said they're not. Why don't you just ask him?”

Claire was so stunned she couldn't respond. What was she doing discussing the intimate details of her marriage with one of her students?

“I think you're out of line, Kent.”

He iced over and backed up a step, a model of overstrained politeness.

“All right, then I apologize, and I'll go.” He turned on his heel and made for the door with a military correctness, more in control than any seventeen-year-old she'd ever met. Good Lord, had he no fear of retribution? The average high school senior wouldn't have had the temerity to speak up to a teacher that way. The remarkable thing was he'd done it with the utmost respect, the same kind of respect she and Tom had always maintained while disagreeing with each other. When she saw Kent's back going around the doorway she was left with a grudging respect herself.

 

By the end of that week more details had leaked out and everyone at HHH knew that Kent Arens was the illegitimate son of their principal.

Kent was being stared at.

Robby and Chelsea were being questioned.

Claire often detected sudden hushes when she walked into a room.

Tom had done some talking with Lynn Roxbury, who'd told him to forget about what people thought; he needed to reconcile his relationship with Kent in some concrete way before he could go on with his life.

He sent a note to Kent's first-hour class, and this time Kent showed up at his office door in five minutes. When they were alone the two of them stood gazing at each other, still acclimating to the idea that they were father and son. It was a more precious moment than before, devoid of some of the complications and secrecy that had permeated their previous meetings. They could study each other wholly, searching eyes, shapes, musculature, and coloring without recoiling in shock at their similarity.

“We do look a lot alike, don't we?” Tom said.

Kent nodded, barely perceptibly. He was still staring at
his father, who had come around his desk and stood a mere four feet away. Between them hummed a ripe fascination.

“Everybody in school knows about it now,” Kent said.

“Does that bother you?”

“At first it did. Now though, I don't know. I'm . . . well, I'm sort of proud of it.”

Tom's heart gave a little kick of surprise.