Breath of Scandal (25 page)

"Where's Hank? What's going on?" Mitch asked as he joined them. He had on a summer-weight robe over his pajamas. Cathy, Jade noticed for the first time, was also dressed for bed and had a few curlers in the top of her hair. They had been waiting up for her.

The Hearons had been more like parents to her than her own. Ronald Sperry was little more than a medal in a box, a photograph, a warin but distant memory. Jade had made several attempts to locate her mother, but with no success. Velta had covered her tracks well-or Harvey had covered them for her. Evidently she had washed her hands of Jade and Graham. The severance with her mother nearly broke Jade's heart, but she had come to accept it and hoped that Velta had found some happiness.

Jade certainly had. From the day the Hearons had insisted that she and Graham move in with them, they had treated her as their own daughter, although they insisted that she

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call them by their first names. Graham's version of "Cathy" was something Re "Caff. " He called Mitch "Poppy. "

The days had fallen into weeks and the weeks into months, and before long Jade couldn't imagine life without Cathy and Mitch. She and Graham shared a large, comfortable bedroom suite on the second floor of their house. Cathy prepared sumptuous meals for them. The lovely house, initially their refuge, became their home.

Cathy carried pictures of Graham in her wallet and boasted about each of his accomplishments like a grandmother. They honored Jade's privacy and never questioned her about his father, although she was certain they wondered about it. Any awkwardness that arose from introducing Jade and Graham to their friends was either patently ignored or handled with Cathy Hearon's characteristic tactfulness. Jade owed them a debt of gratitude she could never repay, but she hoped that she and Graham had returned some of the joy they had received. Without the Hearons' generosity, her life would have taken a vastly different turn. Not only would she have missed college, but, more important, their affection, acceptance, and compassion.

Now, taking a seat in the small chair beside the foyer table, Mitch said, "Are you ladies going to tell me what's going on?"

"Something happened between Hank and Jade tonight." Jade smiled wanly. "No, Cathy. Nothing happened between us tonight. Nothing ever will. That's the problem." She took a deep breath. "Unfortunately, Hank has fallen in love with me. "

"You don't return his feelings?" Cathy probed gently. "I love him dearly as a friend."

"Being considered a friend is a tough blow for a boy in love," Mitch said.

"I know," Jade said miserably. "I tried to tell him months ago that it was hopeless. I encouraged him to date other girls. I knew he would get hurt if he kept seeing me, but he wouldn't listen. Now the worst has happened, and it breaks my heart."

"Are you so sure that you won't eventually come to love

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him?" Cathy asked hopefully. "He's such an easygoing young man, and utterly captivated by you. Perhaps after the separation this summer . . ."

Jade was already shaking her head. "I won't fall in love with him-with anyone."

Their troubled faces conveyed their concern. It would have been a tremendous relief to unburden herself and tell them the whole truth. But she didn't want anyone to know about the rape. She'd learned that assault victims were victims for life. Even if they were entirely innocent, as she was, they were forever regarded with curiosity and suspicion, as though-they had been branded. She lived in fear of the Hearons finding out about her. They probably would consider her the sinned against rather than the sinner, but she was unwilling to take the chance. Each time she was tempted to confide in them, she had only to remind herself that her classmates, her best friend, even her own mother had doubted her.

"I'm tired," Jade said, rising. "Good night." She hugged them in turn before going upstairs, trusting them to respect her privacy. They asked no further questions.

Even while taking a summer curriculum, Jade was able to work longer hours in the store until she was as familiar with the stock and the accounts as was Miss Dorothy herself. By the end of the summer, Jade had become so indispensable to her that she fired her accountant and turned all the bookkeeping over to Jade.

"I'll need more money," Jade had told her softly but firmly. "At least fifty dollars a week."

They settled on a forty-dollar raise. Jade saved most of it. If there was ever another crisis in her life, she was determined to have more than twenty dollars on which to survive.

The Hearons and she managed to endure Graham's Terrible Twos. Cathy merely moved everything breakable out of his reach. In the afternoons when Mitch returned home from the campus, he expended some of Graham's excess

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energy by taking him for long walks. No matter what the weather, hand in hand they strolled down the sidewalks of the neighborhood. Mitch discussed with him the marvels of the universe, and, as though he understood, Graham listened. Their excursions usually produced something interesting-acoms, caterpillars, a bouquet of dandelions for the dining-room table.

Hank returned in the fall. Jade was surprised at how glad she was to see him. As promised, he had written at least once each week. His letters were newsy and anecdotal, and he always included an original drawing for Graham. After seeing each other daily for almost a month, Jade reopened the topic of their relationship. "Hank, you haven't forgotten what I told you last spring, have you?"

"No, " he replied. "Have you forgotten what I told you?" She gazed at him forlornly. "But I feel guilty. You should be going out and having fun. You should be developing other relationships that would be much more ... fulfilling. "

He folded his long arms across his chest. "What you're waltzing around is that I should be getting laid, right?" "Right. I I

"When I want to, I will, okay? Right now, the only woman I'm interested in making love with is having some problems. Until she works them out, I'm willing to make do. "

"Please don't, Hank. I'll never work these problems out. I don't want to be responsible for your unhappiness." "I'm not unhappy. I'd rather be with you, not screwing,

than be with someone else screwing and wishing it were you. Does that make sense?"

"Absolutely none."

He laughed, but his eyes turned serious. "There is something you can do for me, though."

"What?" "Get some professional help." "You mean a psychiatrist?"

"Or psychologist, or counselor. " He gnawed on his lower lip a moment before saying, "Jade, I'm not fishing

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to know, You understand, but I feel something traumatic happened that turned you off men. Am I warm?-

"Not men. I like men."

"Then it's sexual intimacy you're afraid of. You weren't repulsed when I tried to make love to you. You were scared. "

She neither disagreed nor conceded, but kept her eyes averted.

"Maybe if you talked it over with somebody, he or she could help you overcome it."

"Don't base any hopes on it." "It wouldn't hurt to try.-

They didn't discuss it again, but he had planted a seed in Jade's mind. She carefully weighed the benefits and drawbacks- One deterrent was the expense. She begrudged having to invest money on Professional counseling when she held out very little hope for a return on that investment. Another drawback was Hank himself. If she began seeing a psychologist, he might expect an instant recovery and start pressing her for more than she could give. Besides, the main purpose in her life now wasn't to have a successful relationship with a man, but to avenge Gary's death. Dealing with her phobia might splinter her focus.

The benefit, of course, was obvious. She might return to normal. "

It wasn't until a year after the subject came up that she scheduled her first appointment. For several weeks she kept her decision to herself. When she finally informed Hank, he grabbed her by the shoulders, squeezed them hard, and "claimed, "Great! Terrific!"

The immediate outcome of the sessions was neither great nor terrific. Discussing the rape with the female psychologist opened up wounds that Jade had hoped were cauterized by time and distance. She came away from each session feeling as though she had been violated again. After months of therapy, however, she gained confidence that one day she might be able to put her fears aside. If that ever happened, '    she would be as glad as Hank.

On a chilly, blustery afternoon in early March of her

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junior year, she jogged up the sidewalk to the house and let herself in. "Cathy? Mitch? Graham? Mommy's home," she called. "Where is everybody7"

Graham barreled into the foyer and tackled her around the knees. It seemed that he grew an inch every day. He now moved with the impetus of a locomotive.

She bent down to give him a hug. "Where's Cathy?" "Store - "

"So you're here with Poppy?" she asked as she slipped off her coat.

"Poppy's 'sleep.

"Asleep?" She headed toward his study, calling his name with increasing alarm when he didn't answer. "Mitch?" Jade drew up short on the threshold of the bookshelf-

lined room. Even though she knew he couldn't hear her, she softly repeated, "Mitch?" He was sitting behind his desk with an open book in his lap, his head slumped to one side, obviously dead.

That evening, Jade and Cathy quietly grieved together in the room in which he had died, surrounded by the books he had loved. Cathy was so immersed in shock and bereavement that it fell to Jade to handle the business of the burial.

She notified the chancellor of the college, wrote and issued a press release to the local media, and drove Cathy to the funeral home to pick out a casket. Later, when Cathy retreated to her bedroom, Jade received friends who came by to offer condolences and leave food.

The wife of a young history professor volunteered to keep Graham until after the funeral. Jade gladly accepted her offer, knowing that he would be constantly underfoot and confused by the comings and goings of so many strangers in the house. Besides, every time he asked where Poppy was, it was like a knife wound to Cathy and her.

Hank remained close at hand. He ran errands when needed and did all the tasks that no one else could manage. The morning of the funeral, he arrived early. Jade, wearing a black turtleneck sweater-dress and a single strand of faux pearls, greeted him at the door, Her hair was sleekly pulled

into a ponytail at her nape and tied with a black velvet bow. The faint shadows of sadness and fatigue beneath her eyes only heightened their deep blue color.

She led Hank into the kitchen, where she had already brewed a pot of coffee. Handing him a cup, she said, "Cathy's still upstairs dressing. I suppose I'd better go hurry her along. She can't find anything. She's absentminded. They'd been married for thirty-three years, so she feels adrift. They had such a perfect marriage. He was always so . . . "

Her voice cracked, her shoulders sagged, and she permitted Hank to pull her into his arms. It felt good to be held. His hands,,smoothed up and down her back as he whispered words of comfort and solace into her ear. He was warm. The fragrance he wore was alluring and familiar. She liked the scratchy feel of his wool jacket beneath her cheek.

And before either realized it was happening, the embrace changed personality. As the psychologist had counseled her to do, Jade concentrated on everything that was sensually pleasing, giving no thought to anything except what was favorable and good. To her dismay, she found it all to be.

Raising her head, she gazed up at him with perplexity. He smiled at her gently, seemingly reading her thoughts. One of his hands slowly moved up to her cheek, and he stroked it with the back of his knuckle. His thumb made two light passes across her lips before he softly kissed her.

Jade's heart was tripping madly, but it wasn't from fear. She didn't freeze up, nor did she turn away or flinch. Hank raised his head and paused, giving her time to object. When she didn't, he released a long sigh that spread across her lips before he caressed them again.

"Hank?" :'Don't tell me to stop," he pleaded.

'I wasn't going to." She took a step closer.

Moaning, Hank placed his arms around her and drew her closer. His lips nudged hers apart. He raked her teeth with the tip of his tongue. "Jade?" he murmured. "Jade?"

The doorbell rang. Jade stiffed. Hank released her and stepped back. "Goddammit."

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She gave him a nervous, breathless smile. "Excuse me." On her way through the house, she reflexively moistened her lips and tasted his kiss. It hadn't been bad at all. In fact, it had been quite delicious. It was wicked to think such a thing on the day she was burying Mitch, but she couldn't wait until she and Hank were alone again.

But when she pulled open the front door, her smile congealed. She stood face to face with one of her rapists.

CHAPTER

Foutfeen

Myrajane Cowan Griffith couldn't have looked more affronted if she had been hit in the face with a bucket of cold water. "You're that Sperry girl," she said, making it sound like an accusation. "What in the world are you doing here?"

Jade reflexively gripped the brass doorknob, her eyes fixed on Lamar. The changes in him over the last four years were negligible. He was wearing his hair longer. His body had filled out so that he now looked more man than boy. But his dark eyes were still wary, still nervous, and, as he gazed with astonishment at Jade, still apologetic.

"May we come in?" Myrajane asked snidely.

Jade tore her eyes away from Lamar and looked at his mother. Myrajane hadn't aged gracefully. The nastier aspects of her personality were evident in her face, which was lined and drawn. With an amateur hand, she had tried to camouflage the erosion with cosmetics. The results were pathetic. Her garish blue eyeshadow had collected in the creases of her eyelids, and her lipstick had bled into the cracks radiating from her mouth.