More Than Friends (32 page)

"It's love."

She had believed that once. When they had been nineteen and twenty and first meeting, falling into bed together had meant falling in love. She had come to know his body before she had come to know his mind, but they were older now. Annie was

acutely aware of her own body now. It wasn't as young as it had been once. It would never be as young as it had been once. But there would always be younger women out there trying to snag Sam's eye. She needed to know that she had him so securely that he would be hers no matter what.

"I can't, Sam," she cried.

"I love you."

"But enough?" The egg in her hand broke. Swearing softly, she swung it to the sink before it dripped. At the same time the sound of footsteps on the back porch heralded Zoe and Jon's return from visiting Michael.

Zoe came in first. One look at Sam standing so close to Annie and she seemed unsure. With a soft, "Hi," she escaped to her room. Annie would have called her back had not Jon come in then.

"How's Michael?" Sam asked. If anything, he moved even closer to Annie. She knew that he was making a statement and wondered if it would cause a blowup. She wasn't in the mood for that. She was getting tired of living with a simmering ill will.

"He's coming home," Jon said.

Annie turned in excitement. "When?"

"Next Friday, if he can handle crutches by then."

"Crutches," she breathed. After the endless time when they hadn't known if Michael would come awake, much less walk, crutches sounded like a miracle. She turned to Sam. "Crutches. That's terrific!"

"He hates the center," Jon said. "They thought he would do better at home, but I don't know. Once he's home, he'll be dependent on Teke. He's pretty angry at her." The last was an accusation aimed at Sam.

"It might be for the best," Sam pointed out. "They'll be forced to talk things out. They'll have to confront the anger head-on."

"You think that'll help?" Jon asked. "Dream on."

"Jon--" Annie stopped when Sam touched her arm.

"Maybe it's time for us, too," he told her. "Okay, Jon, say it. Tell me what you think of me. Again."

But Jon only snorted and started for the door. "You know what I think of you."

Sam caught his arm. "Hold it. I'm giving you free rein to get it all off your chest. It isn't every father who gives his kid carte blanche that way."

"It isn't every kid whose father--who he practically worshiped--cheats on his mother with the person who is practically his second mother. That's incest, almost."

"Good," Sam goaded, gesturing more words out with his hand. "Incest is good. Come on. Let's have it all."

"Sam ..." Annie tried, growing frightened. Sam was upset about what had happened in the office. He wasn't in any shape to take on Jon.

"You're a phony," Jon said. "You've made a mockery of everything you've told us."

"More, come on, more."

"You've blown your credibility. It's gone. Your word isn't worth shit."

"Jon--"

"And there's no hope of redemption?" Sam asked. "Remember when you were six and threw a ball through the front window after you'd promised not to throw against the house? Or when you got your driver's license and promptly backed out of the garage into the mailbox after you'd promised you would be so careful?"

"It was an accident."

"Precisely. Accidents happen. Because of that, and because you felt awful, and because I loved you, I forgave you. Well, what about me?

Don't I deserve the same?"

"You're my father. You're supposed to set an example."

"Well, I'm human," Sam declared. The instant he dropped his hand, Jon started off. "What time is your game tomorrow?"

"I don't want you going," he said from the hall.

"What time?" Sam called.

"You'll jinx my game!"

"What time?"

Annie heard an ascending clatter on the stairs. It was followed by the slam of a door, then silence. Sam dropped his chin to his chest. He stood that way for a long time, during which Annie's heart nearly broke. When he looked back at her, there were tears in his eyes. Drawn by those tears and the pain she knew he was feeling, she went to him and took his hand. "Time heals all wounds, Sam." He nodded. Then, with an unsteady breath and a look of defeat, he freed his hand from hers, gathered his books and papers, and left the room.

thirteen

on the day Michael was due home. Having cleaned the house from top to bottom the night before, she now cooked his favorite beef stew, made his favorite fruit salad, baked his favorite black forest cake. As soon as the stores were open, she sent off Jana and Leigh, who had refused to go to school, to buy fresh flowers, a huge balloon bouquet, and a WELCOME HOME, MICHAEL poster, which they hung between the pillars straddling the front door. While the girls wove streamers through the entire first floor of the house, Teke showered and dressed. She put on her funkiest tunic and leggings and tied her hair up with the leftover strip of a streamer. She barely needed any makeup. Her face was alive for the first time in weeks, which was very much how she felt inside. In the excitement of preparing Michael's return home, the resentment that the girls had shown toward Teke seemed momentarily forgotten. She was their mother again, which was all she had ever wanted to be. J.D. had insisted on driving Michael home, which pleased Teke as well. She wanted Michael to know

that his father would be involved in his life, regardless of where he lived.

The plan was for J.D. to arrive at the center at ten, pick up Michael and a therapist who would be helping out for the day, and arrive back in Constance by eleven. All week Teke had been bringing Michael's belongings home. There would be nothing more than a small duffel for J.D. to handle.

Leigh and Jana were at the window from ten-thirty on. By ten forty-five, when Teke joined them there, they were growing impatient.

"Dad must have been late," Leigh said.

"Not your dad," Teke quipped.

"Promptness is an asset," Jana said in his defense. Leigh envisioned another problem. "Maybe they changed their minds about letting him go."

Jana scowled at her. "You sound like he's in an institution. He isn't committed. They don't have the right to change their minds."

"Maybe he fell," Leigh went on. "Maybe he hurt himself." Teke was wondering the very same things, but she forced herself to be calm. "They would have called."

"He may not like sleeping downstairs," Jana warned. "Does he know?"

"He knows everything," Teke said. She had made sure of that. She had gone over everything with Michael, his therapists, and the center social worker. That way, she had reasoned, if he didn't like the arrangements, he might as easily blame the therapists and the social worker as blame Teke. He already blamed her for enough. "He knows that we converted the den into a bedroom. He knows that we converted the sunroom into a therapy room. He knows that a therapist will be here every morning

and a tutor every afternoon. He knows that three times a week he'll be using the health club pool."

"When can he go back to school?" Jana asked.

"He'll have to walk well enough to handle the stairs. My guess is March."

"Not 'til then?"

Teke was thinking that everything was relative-that the thought of Michael missing five months of school was nothing compared to his being a paraplegic or worse for the rest of his life--when Leigh caught her breath. "There they are!" She left the window on the run and was out the front door, neck and neck with Jana.

Teke trailed behind. Her heart thudded with excitement and more. It was an emotional time.

Jana and Leigh fussed over Michael for as long as it took him to arrange his crutches and push himself to his feet. Then they stood nervously to the side while, falteringly, he started forward. J.D. walked on one side, the therapist on the other. Each step was a major undertaking--the placement of his crutches, the small push to shift his weight to them, the uneven swing of his legs. Teke knew the drill. She had been there, hour after hour, while the therapists had put him through it, but she saw something now that hadn't been present before. His face was a portrait of determination.

Teke felt pride. She felt excitement and nervousness. She felt intense hope and love and more than a little sorrow that her baby wasn't running up the walk the way he always had before. But he was home. She was so grateful, so happy for that that her throat grew tight and her eyes misted. She grinned, then grinned more the closer he came. Her lips trembled. She brushed tears from the corners of her eyes. Then he looked up at her and gave her a grin, and she gave up the fight. Laughing through

her tears, she wrapped him in her arms.

"You're wonderful, Mikey," she said, and for that long, happy, proud moment, all was right with the world. Michael might recall what she had done and hate her again tomorrow, but today he was her little boy coming home.

Sorrow. Betrayal. Pain. Annie studied the words she had scrawled on the flap of her notebook. A woman needed strength to overcome any of the three. She wasn't sure she had enough.

She could find all the reasons in the world why Jon should forgive Sam and why Michael--and even J.D.--should forgive Teke, but when it came to Annie's forgiving Sam, things were more confused. The hurt he had caused ran as deep as her feelings for him. She couldn't be objective. She wasn't at her best. Different emotions pulled her in different directions, wearing her thin, weakening her so that at times she wanted nothing more than to crumble, to forget, to make things the way they were before. She would imagine that return to happiness and smile, until an unbidden image of Teke, Vicki Cornell, or a faceless female client who might tempt Sam arose, and the smile disappeared. Tossing aside her pen in frustration, she proceeded to bundle up her books and head for class. Down one hall and a flight of stairs, she thought ahead to the discussion of the day. It would center on the role of opposites in Jane Austen's work--in Emma, Emma as the voice of imagination, Mr. Knightley as that of sane reasoning; in Pride and Prejudice, Mary Bennet as rational, her sister Lydia as emotional. Ah, the irony of that, Annie thought--opposites, the swing of the pendulum, the frustration of conflicting visions. She envied Jane Austen. She would

have given anything to transform the events of the past two months into a work of fiction. No doubt she would shred it in the nearest machine.

Her steps faltered. Ahead, Jason Faust was talking with several other students waiting for class. Though her guilt remained, each time she saw him was less awkward than the last. He had cocky moments and quiet ones. She wondered if he was all right.

The group of students greeted her and turned into the classroom. "A quick question, Jason?" she asked, holding him back. When the others had gone through the door, she said, "You look washed out. You have for a while. Is everything okay?"

"It's November," he said with a crooked grin. "My tan's gone down the drain."

"I'm serious. Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm lovesick."

She refused to blush. "You are not. I'm not your style and you know it. Are you sure you aren't sick?"

"I'm sure," he said, but he looked troubled. "Can we talk after class?"

Annie had a long list of things to do, but she owed Jason the time. She felt a responsibility for him, after what had happened. "Sure. I haven't had lunch. Why don't we talk in the dining hall." He nodded his agreement and opened the classroom door for her. Taking his place at the back of the room, he seemed distracted. Several students had questions for her after class. She answered them, then motioned to Jason. They passed through the crowded halls and went next door to the faculty dining hall. Shortly thereafter they were seated at a table, Annie with cups of chowder and tea, Jason with a glass of milk.

"Nice place," he said, looking around.

"Haven't you been here before?"

"I have. Still, it's impressive."

"Something to look forward to?" She started on her chowder.

"That's one of the things I wanted to talk with you about. I'm worried about next year. I really want that teaching position. I need the money."

She was quickly skeptical. "I thought money wasn't an issue."

"It never was before." He turned the glass of milk between his palms.

"My dad just filed for bankruptcy."

"Uh-oh."

"Yeah. And I don't just mean that the business ran short so he had to file for bankruptcy protection from his creditors. There are serious legal problems. He's about to be indicted for real estate fraud. It's like the floor just fell out from under us."

Stunned, she began, "But I thought--"

"There were mega bucks He smirked. "Most people do. That was the image. Only it ain't so. Maybe it was several generations ago, but the wealth has been dispersed. My dad had a nice chunk to start with, and he built it up in the real estate boom, then the boom went bust, and he got reckless. So now everything he has has either been frozen pending the government's investigation or earmarked for legal fees." Annie could imagine the trauma of it. "I'm sorry, Jason. That must be difficult for your whole family. How long have you known?"

"Just a few weeks. He was trying to maintain an image, too."

"I feel terrible."

"No more than I," Jason said with another smirk. "Out of the blue, I'm on my own. He says he's supported me long enough. He says he'll give me a small allowance, but I have work to make up the rest."

"Tuition won't be a problem," she assured him. "You're eligible for a waiver as a TA anyway, and you get a stipend for that."

"It isn't enough. I really want that teaching position. What are my chances?"

She wished she could be optimistic. "About the same as they were the last time you mentioned it. If you could have your master's by June, you might have a shot. Honnemann will be looking for someone with the completed degree."

"Think I can do it?"

"Finish by June? Sure, if you want. After all, what is will, but faith and persistency?"

Jason frowned. "Emerson?"