My Only One (16 page)

“Well,” Tim said, giving her a game smile, “we’re trying, Abby. But it’s tough on us, too. We’ve been molded and stamped into pushing away what we felt. Society hasn’t done men or women any favors as far as I’m concerned. I think it’s fine that women expect more from us, but I also feel that they need to allow us that room to grow, too.”

“This decade’s been hard on everybody,” Abby agreed. “People seem more interested in instant gratification, money, labels and careers than some of the more important things.”

“Yeah, like family, honor, values and morals, just to name a few.”

“You come from a military family where those things were important and stressed in your life,” Abby said.

“Believe me, I consider myself lucky. I don’t want to be like a lot of those people of our generation, Abby. We’ve lost the threads of family and what it means. Little Courtney’s going to be a latch-key kid in a few more years. It hurts me to think that that will happen to her, to any child. I know a woman has to work right alongside her husband to make ends meet, but the children are falling through the cracks. They’re paying for our race to get material possessions.”

“There are no easy answers, Tim.”

“Well,” he said stubbornly, “if things go the way I want them to, Courtney won’t be a latch-key kid. There’s options. I know there are. If Susan and I can put our heads together, both of us make compromises, we can solve some of these problems. Maybe, if Susan falls head over heels for me like I have with her, we can make this work. It won’t be easy, but I know it can be done. My parents have been married for forty years. I want the same kind of marriage.”

“Disposable marriages have been the rage,” Abby agreed, thinking of Alec. “I wonder if people in the Soviet Union view marriage like we do?”

“I doubt it. Alec’s old-fashioned, like me. Commitment means something to him. At the first sign of trouble, you don’t jump ship and bail out.”

“Susan’s case was different, though,” Abby pointed out gently.

Grimly, Tim nodded. “If I ever meet her ex-husband, I’m going to beat him to a bloody pulp. I swear I will.”

“Makes two of us,” Abby said. “He’s the epitome of men at their worst.”

“Which,” Tim sighed, “is the problem I’ve got with Susan. Steve broke her trust with all men, and that includes myself. Until she can see me for me and not ‘all men,’ I won’t get to first base with her.”

“Time,” Abby whispered. “With time, that will happen, Tim. I just feel it here, in my heart.”

With a grateful smile, Tim muttered, “I hope you’re right, Abby, because I’ve met the woman I want to marry. Now all I have to do is convince her.”

“You will,” she said softly. “I know you will, Tim.”

“Look, I know you’re hurting over Alec’s leaving. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know, okay? I’ve got use of certain diplomatic channels, so I can make things happen up to a point.”

Abby shook her head, tears welling up behind her eyelids once again. She was going to cry. Part of her tears was for Susan and the happiness she knew that Tim could bring to the relationship. The other part was for the loss of Alec to herself. Her heart felt raw, and she felt like a lone wolf wanting to howl at the moon because she’d lost her mate. She’d given advice to Tim—but could time help assuage her loss?

* * *

“A
BBY
,
YOU LOOK AWFUL
!” Susan said as she came into the apartment with Courtney.

Abby looked up from the breakfast bar where she sat, papers scattered all around her. “Oh…hi, Susan.” She forced a smile. Courtney was holding both whales in one hand, a smile on her face. She wore a Muppet T-shirt with the Cookie Monster on it, and a well worn pair of jeans.

“Am I interrupting?” Susan halted midway into the living room.

“No, not at all! I haven’t seen you in almost two weeks. Come on, let’s sit down and talk. Gosh, I’ve been so busy—”

Susan went into the kitchen and poured them each a glass of wine. “Tell me about it. Are you working yourself into the ground? Last week it was the talk shows, this week the radio shows. Don’t you ever stop?”

“The truth?” Tiredly, Abby slid off the stool, accepted the wine from her friend and joined her on the couch. Courtney played happily on the floor with her two whales near the coffee table.

“Nothing but.” Susan folded her leg beneath her, dressed in a pair of pale peach slacks, a white blouse and peach blazer. She’d just gotten home from work, and it was 7:00 p.m.

Sipping the wine, Abby shrugged. “I miss Alec.”

“No kidding. You’ve got awful circles under your eyes. Are you trying to forget him by working yourself into an early grave?”

Wasn’t that the truth, Abby thought. “I—well, I just didn’t realize how much he’d meant to me until he was gone, Susan.” She looked around the apartment, her voice lowering with pain. “This place is so empty without his presence. You’d think I had a good dose of puppy love or something.” Wrinkling her nose, Abby muttered, “Tim’s right, our generation has lost a lot of things, among them, romance, idealism, hope….”

Reaching out, Susan gripped Abby’s hand. “I can see the hurt in your eyes, and I’m sorry. Alec is a wonderful man, just like Tim is.”

Sadly, Abby smiled and squeezed Susan’s hand. “Many good things came out of meeting Alec. Donations totaling four million dollars have come in because of the shows we were on together. The SOWF people are ecstatic, and so am I. The money will go directly to the whale fund to create even more awareness through ads and radio spots. Just as important, you met Tim.”

Susan sat back and released a deep sigh. “Tim… God, Abby, he’s too good to be true. I’ve seen him every weekend for a couple of hours. I wish it were for a longer time, but my brokerage firm is really putting the pressure on me to get into junk bonds, and I’m doing my damndest not to. I’m spending a lot more time doing research for my investment-portfolio customers to diversify in other areas. It’s a real uphill battle.”

“I wish they’d let you do your thing.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

“So things are going smoothly between you and Tim?”

Susan squirmed.

“Well?” Abby baited, genuinely interested in her friend’s escalating happiness.

Susan rubbed her brow. “He’s a dream, Abby. I’m afraid to believe in him. Afraid to believe he’s real. Tim’s the opposite of Steve in every way possible. He’s got a great sense of humor, he’s gentle and not pushy.” She shook her head. “Do you know that Tim has only kissed me twice in the month we’ve been seeing one another? And that’s it!”

A smile tugged at Abby’s mouth, some of the heaviness from around her heart lifting. It was so good to see the happiness in Susan’s eyes. “You mean he hasn’t jumped your bones like you expected?” she teased.

“Ouch, I had that coming, didn’t I?”

“You’re conditioned to it, Susan. Tim’s old-fashioned. He may be from our generation, but he’s got strong values.”

“I like what he is,” Susan admitted softly. “He’s not trying to push me into bed with him or to manipulate me like other guys have in the past. It’s such a different kind of relationship than I’ve had, and frankly, I’m on totally new ground with him. Sometimes, I don’t know how to react to him. He just kind of gives me that boyish smile of his and steps back.”

“Just keep trusting one another.” Abby gestured toward her mass of paperwork on the counter. “In the meantime, I’m going to continue my whale-awareness campaign.”

“Well,” Susan said gently, “you’re sure doing your part to uplift world consciousness.” She reached over, barely touching Abby’s drooped shoulder. “But you’re killing yourself doing it.”

“I’m trying to bury myself in work to not feel or think about Alec.”

“I know. Have you heard from him lately?”

“I’ve gotten two letters from him…early on. Traveling so much, I haven’t been able to write to him as much as I’d like. Tim was kind enough to send him a short message for me a couple of days ago.” Abby sighed. “And now I’ve got to prepare a speech that I’ll give at the U.N. next week.”

Susan gave her an admiring look. “You’re really becoming famous, Abby.”

“I don’t care one whit about fame. It’s an empty vessel for me. I see it as a vehicle to be used to get the word out about our dying world.”

“I know a lot of people who’d love to have the power that’s been handed to you. Dr. Monica Turner, for one.”

“Her.” The word came out flat. Abby got up and began to pace. “She’s stonewalling us on the Hill, Susan. The SOWF lobbyist has new legislation written and ready to go, but Turner’s going behind closed doors of Congress and telling them that enough’s been written into law. She’s trying to get it killed in committee before it ever reaches a vote in the House. If we can’t get this legislation accepted, it’s…well…I don’t know….”

“Abby, you can’t take responsibility for it failing or being accepted. Look at you—you’ve lost weight. This has to stop.”

Pressing her fingertips to her temples, Abby stood in the middle of the living room. “You’re right, but I can’t walk away from what was created, Susan. The public awareness has to be escalated. If Congress and the president refuse to help us, we’ve got to go to the people.” She smiled tiredly. “There’s one thing I love about the American people. Once they truly comprehend the depth of a problem, they’ll rally and respond. That’s why I’m doing all these radio and television talk shows to create that kind of awareness.”

“Well, I’m worried for you.”

“I’ll be okay. Soon all the fanfare that was created a month ago will die down. The press will jump on the next disaster and the whales will be forgotten. It’s the American way.”

“Knowing you, you won’t let the American people forget.”

“No,” Abby vowed huskily, “I won’t. When Alec saved my life, I changed a lot, Susan. I really thought I was going to die. When I woke up and he was at my side, I realized how precious, how fragile life really is. I realized I can live for more than just the moment. I can live for now and build productively toward the future as I envision it. Someday, soon I hope, Americans will do the right thing.”

Susan got up and came over to Abby. She placed her arm around her shoulders. “Listen, you’re tired. Go take a hot bath and then go to bed, okay?”

Abby nodded. But she knew that when she slept—what little she slept—dreams of Alec, of what they’d shared, haunted her. Would there come a time when she wouldn’t feel filled with so much promise of a future they’d never share?

Chapter Nine

A
BBY HELD HERSELF
in tight check as she tried to cultivate her short span of patience while in Dr. Monica Turner’s outer office waiting to be summoned by the woman herself. As she sat, dressed in a pale pink business suit, Abby wondered what her archenemy from the State Department wanted from her.

Rubbing her aching temple, Abby continued to work on the speech she would deliver to the U.N. tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. Perhaps the prospect of her speech was giving Turner the jitters. Or maybe it was giving the administration a twinge. Good, they deserved it, in Abby’s opinion. Yesterday, the SOWF lobbyist had been able to get in to see a very influential congressman about the proposed whale and dolphin legislation. Was that what had scared Turner out of hiding?

The buzzer on Pat Monahan’s desk beeped. Abby saw the secretary nod in her direction, her face pinched with disapproval.

“Dr. Turner will now see you, Dr. Fielding.”

Abby rose and picked up her scarred and scratched briefcase that was ten years old. “Thank you,” she responded coolly. Her stomach was tight with tension, and Abby knew as she walked into the office that she had to keep her temper in check as never before. Alec had been right: her red hair was a warning to anyone that her temper was volatile. This morning, she could not afford to lose it.

The office was huge, and Abby halted in the middle of the Oriental rug and looked around. There were certificates, diplomas and a number of pictures of Dr. Turner with key administration officials tastefully arranged on the mahogany-paneled walls. Monica sat behind her rectangular maple desk, a pair of tortoiseshell-framed bifocals resting on her nose. She looked over them at Abby.

“Come in, Dr. Fielding.” Monica gestured to a red leather wing chair that sat to one side of her desk. “Coffee?”

Surprised at the low, mellow tone of Monica’s voice, Abby shook her head. “No, thank you.”

“Oh, that’s right. I read somewhere that you were a health-food addict.”

“Better that kind of addict than the other types of addicts we have in this country, don’t you think, Dr. Turner?”

Monica leaned back in her chair and glanced over at Pat, who stood poised at the door. “No disagreement from me. Bring us tea with lemon.” She glanced at Abby as she sat down. “You do drink tea, don’t you?”

“Herbal tea, if you have any. If not, a glass of ice water will do fine.”

Monica smiled briefly. “Contrary to popular opinion, I am concerned with all kinds of health matters, Dr. Fielding.” Directing her attention to her secretary, she said, “Two cups of chamomile tea, please.”

Abby tried to appear relaxed and crossed her legs. She set her briefcase down beside the chair. “Chamomile. That’s an herbal tea to soothe the nerves.”

Monica sat up and removed her bifocal glasses, letting them hang around her neck on a gold chain. “Working around here is enough to put anyone’s nerves on edge.”

“No argument from me,” Abby said dryly. Monica’s blond hair was carefully coiffed in a chignon, giving her narrow face a severe look. But it was belied by the blue miniskirt she wore. Although miniskirts were suddenly the rage again, Abby noted that hardly any women in business wore them. They preferred conservative hemlines. If she didn’t know Monica worked for the State Department, she’d have been an ideal magazine model.

Monica gave her a quick, bloodless smile and waited until her secretary had delivered the tea on a silver serving tray and then left. The door closed, and she gestured to Abby to help herself.

“Vitamin C in the form of lemon, chamomile for our collective nerves, and honey instead of sugar.” She pinned Abby with a dark look. “You see, perhaps we’re not so far apart as you’d like to think we are.”