Miracle (24 page)

Mr. Beaucaire smiled. “Yes. Very well.”

She sat forward on the chair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Do you talk to him very often?”

“Frequently.”

“Will you tell him that you came to see me?”

“Of course. I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear that you’ve used his gifts wisely. The Ferrari … you are enjoying it?”

She bit her tongue. She didn’t want anyone telling Sebastien some cock-eyed version of the truth. She wanted to explain to him about the Ferrari herself. “It’s wonderful, yeah.”

Mr. Beaucaire’s chuckle was sinister, somehow. “And you have plenty of money left from the amount Sebastien gave you?”

“Oh, yes, more than half of it! Tell him … tell him that I’m not living high on the hog.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“That I’m not wasting his money.”

“Ah. I see. Yes.”

She clenched her hands. “Would you mind telling me about him? About the kind of work he’s doing? What’s it like in the Ivory Coast? Where does he live … in an apartment or a house?”

“Oh, who knows about Sebastien? He isn’t one to talk much about frivolous things. I’m sure he has a nice home, and I’m sure that he rarely sees it. He’s always working. His work, you see, has always been the center of his life.”

She leaned forward, anticipating. “Yeah, you’re right. He probably doesn’t do anything else. He’s probably pretty bored with Africa, I bet. I bet he doesn’t
ever
take time to enjoy himself.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Mr. Beaucaire reached inside his suit jacket and retrieved a photograph. “This is an old friend of his. She has gone from Paris several times to visit him.”

Amy rose and took the picture. After a second she managed to concentrate on the stately young woman in it. “What’s her name?”

“Marie d’Albret. Her family and Sebastien’s were neighbors. He has known her all his life.”

She raised her eyes to Mr. Beaucaire’s. Though he tried to look sympathetic, she saw the victory in his face. “Is this why you came here? To show me a picture?”

“I feared that you had misconceptions about the doctor’s intentions toward you. I just wanted to make certain that
you understood his situation. He and Marie are very close. When he returns to France, I wouldn’t be surprised if they marry.”

Amy laid the photograph on the couch. Then she backed away from it carefully, watching Mr. Beaucaire. “I guess you’ve done what you meant to do. You can leave.”

Mr. Beaucaire tucked the photo into his jacket pocket and stood. He nodded to her. “You’ve enjoyed quite a bit of generosity from Dr. de Savin. But it would be foolish for you to expect more.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“You believe me, but your pride won’t let you admit it. Tell me, did you honestly think that the doctor would remain interested in you? Don’t you know what sort of girl you were to him? He was kind to you and gave you this chance to better yourself. Do
not
harbor fantasies about the future.” He strode into the hall. “Good-bye, mademoiselle.”

Amy waited until the front door clicked shut behind him. Then she turned blindly, her eyes full of tears. Mary Beth leapt out of a doorway down the hall, glowering. “Old bastard. I eavesdropped on the whole thing.” She came to Amy, stood on tiptoe, and put an arm around her shoulders. “Comeon, honey. Let’s go for a walk. And then we’ll eat ice cream until we explode. Or maybe we’ll go find some tender, unsuspecting high-school boy and abuse him. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Amy whispered. “I am somebody important. I don’t deserve to be unhappy.”

“There you go, honey. You don’t need this shit.”

“I’m going to see Sebastien in France, right after he gets home. If he’s not interested in me, he can tell me so himself.”

After giving her a stunned appraisal, Mary Beth said something pithy and obscene. Then she sighed heavily. “I
like
watching Juliet poison herself over a Romeo who couldn’t care less. It’s educational.”

Jeff was leaving for California. Amy congratulated him on his new job and tried to appear pleased, but halfway through dinner she halted with her fork posed over a plate of chicken chow mein and blurted, “I wish you were staying here. What am I? A train station? All I do is watch people come and go in my life. I’ll miss you. I’ll miss you so much.”

“Amy, that’s the greatest compliment you could give me.”

“You didn’t have to drive all the way to Athens and take me out to eat just to say good-bye. But you did, because you’re terrific. I can’t scarf down my chow mein and act nonchalant. I feel like I’ll never see you again.” She jabbed her fork into the food and looked at Jeff despondently.

He reached across the table and took both of her hands. His fingers stroked her palms. “Did it ever occur to you that I hate to leave you?”

Her withering emotions took a little life from his remark. She
knew
that he cared about her. Not much was certain in the world, but Jeff’s friendship was a sure bet. Right now she needed his support in every way he could give it. “What’s really wrong?” he asked.

“Sebastien is seeing some
woman.
” She told him about Mr. Beaucaire’s visit.

Jeff’s expression went from amazed to thoughtful. “Better a woman than a
man.
” He squeezed her hands gently. His gaze held hers with compelling sympathy. “I’m sorry, sweets. I really am.”

“Thank you for not gloating.”

“Why would I gloat? I don’t like to see you hurt.”

Emotion filled her throat. Jeff. Good old Jeff. “Could we get out of here? I can’t eat. I’m suffocating.”

“You’re just hyperventilating.”

“I know, I know. But I’d rather do it in fresh air.”

He paid their bill and they left. On the sidewalk of one of Athens’s quiet, small-town streets Jeff put his arm around her and she leaned against him. They walked through the spring night.

“I’ve got a great idea,” he told her. “I’ll get a room at one
of Athens’s
finest
motels. I’ll hang around town for a couple of days, and we’ll live it up.”

“I’d like that.”

“What say I get a room now, and you come with me? We’ll order some pizza and watch cable TV.”

“That sounds okay. Sure.”

Inside Jeff’s new Mercedes sports coupe she put her head back on the passenger seat and shut her eyes. She now owned a small blue Ford, cheap but friendly. She missed the Ferrari because it had made her feel close to Sebastien. The day she had sold it she spent an hour sitting quietly in the driver’s side, her senses tuned to the memories of a fast night on a dark road with him.

Sometimes she couldn’t stop thinking about him, and every moment played on her emotions with sharp awareness; but at other times a soothing blankness washed away all thoughts but those of the present. She wasn’t fooled by it. She knew that the memories hid just behind a wall of fatigue, but she appreciated the respite. She felt blank right now.

As he drove, Jeff reached over and took her hand. “You’re learning a valuable lesson sweets,” he said softly. “I know it hurts, but in the long run you’ll be smarter because of it.”

“I love him. I always will.”

“You may always love Sebastien, but you won’t hurt when you think about him. The mind has a wonderful way of losing touch with painful stimuli. Trust me.”

She decided not to tell him that she’d be visiting France in late summer, to find Sebastien. Deep down she feared that everyone was right, that she was being foolish. Her determination seemed more hopeless than ever before. “Dr. Freud, I may be naive, but sometimes I think you don’t know diddly squat about how to love—really love—somebody.”

He chuckled with fiendish intent. “Ah, but I know the mind. The psyche. The intellect. The dark little corners where only the bravest mice go.”

“My mice are running around like chickens with their heads cut off.”

“What a charming analogy. I’ll have to remember it.”

He drove to one of the motels on the highway outside of
town. It was the kind of place that catered to business people and well-heeled football alumni. Amy was impressed by the cable TV selections. Jeff sprawled on the king-size bed and picked up the phone. “A giant pizza and a six-pack, all right, sweets?”

“All right.” She sat at the foot of the bed and studied his prone body with dismay. Jeff seemed threatening this way; she couldn’t quite put her finger on the reason. She frowned and got up, then prowled around the room. She put her big cloth purse on the dresser and pretended to look for something inside, while she darted glances at Jeff in the dresser mirror as he placed their food order.

His jogging shoes, soft, faded jeans, and rumpled red T-shirt made him look less like a thirty-one-year-old doctor and more like a graduate student close to her own age. His blondish hair was marching back from his forehead, but the disheveled look of it flattered him, gave him a mad-scientist appeal that suited his personality.

Cupping the phone to one ear, he tucked a pillow under his head and flopped one foot over the other. His position accented the impressive mound that lay at the base of his belly. Amy lowered her gaze to her purse, uncomfortable with scrutinizing him that way. She stared at her cold, pale hands and wondered why being here with Jeff should upset her.

They ate pizza and watched television in companionable silence. She stayed on the far side of the bed, her legs curled under her. He made clucking sounds of disapproval because she wouldn’t drink more than one beer. “I’ll have to drink the other five,” he said and moaned.

“Better not. You’ve gotta give me a ride back to the house.”

He wiped his hands on a napkin, studied her in silence, then said softly, “You don’t really want to go, do you?”

She dropped a half-eaten slice of pizza back into the box and sat very still, frowning at Jeff. “I don’t love you.”

“I didn’t ask you to. But you like me. And I’m crazy about
you
.” His eyes were intense, but he smiled. “Crazy. An appropriate choice of words.”

A cry of confusion and torment rose inside her. She pressed her hands to her mouth to suppress it. Shaking her
head, she whispered, “Having sex doesn’t mean anything to you, does it? It’s as ordinary as brushing your teeth.”

“Yes, but you should see how well I floss.” He set the pizza box and beer on a nightstand, then rolled toward her and propped his head on one hand. The other hand snaked across the bed’s coverlet and rested on her knee. His fingers stroked her lightly through her jeans. “Give yourself permission to be happy. There’s no reason to feel guilty. You’ve been faithful for so long. Sebastien never expected you to live like a nun. My God, sweets, adults don’t make those kinds of demands on each other.”

When she put her head in her hands and groaned with frustration, he continued, speaking in his low, cajoling tone. “You’re finished with Sebastien. Let go, Amy. Be an adult and
let go.
”

She caught a sob. Crying silently, she didn’t protest when he sat up and pulled her into his arms. He brushed his lips across her hands then nuzzled her ear, whispering, “It’s like riding a horse. If you fall off, you have to get right back on.”

She wiped her eyes. “But on a new horse?”

“Whatever it takes to get you back in the saddle.” His nimble fingers went to the buttons on her pale cotton shirt. “Sebastien would understand. He’d approve. He wouldn’t care.”

He wouldn’t care
. Amy numbly watched Jeff’s fingers part her shirt and stroke the inner curves of her breasts above her bra. He dipped his head and kissed her there, his mouth firm and sure. “I’ve wanted you for a long time. There aren’t any lies in what I’m telling you. I really believe that I know what’s best for you. Trust me, Amy, trust me. You can start to feel better. I can make you feel better. It’s as simple as this.”

He slid a finger inside her bra and rubbed a nipple until it hardened. Desire slid through her. She felt breathless and sad, aroused but detached. It was good to be touched, to be wanted by a man. Sebastien had taught her the power and beauty of satisfaction, then left her hungering for it, alone.

She raised her hands to Jeff’s shoulders and explored the smooth movement of muscle over his lanky frame. Her
head swam with guilt, confusion, sorrow, desire. Shutting her eyes, she accepted reality.