She got a long, clinging hug and a kiss from Lauren. And a whisper into her ear that made her blink and grin all over her face: “I love you, Tamara.”
Sweet little girl. Funny, but she had a feeling she was going to miss her a little. The bonding thing. Or maybe it was more than that. In fact, she knew it was. For the first time in her life tough Tamara, independent Tamara, really wanted kids of her own… someday.
JAKE RUNYON
It was Saturday before he had a chance to talk to Joshua in person, at the Hartford Street flat. If he’d thought about it beforehand, he’d’ve known how it would be, that it couldn’t be anything else. But he’d been too busy, too tired out, and so he walked into it cold.
The first thing Joshua said to him was, “I’ve been reading about you in the paper,” with a faint sneer in his voice. “Busy week, saving lives and catching bad guys all over the place. My father, the hero.”
“I’m not a hero. And I don’t give a damn about all the publicity. I’m just a man doing a job-a shitty job, most of the time.”
“Cops and plumbers, experts in shit.”
“Why the snotty remarks? What’s chewing on you?”
“Don’t you know?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I knew.”
“You expect me to be grateful, I suppose. Forget what you did to my mother, tell you all is forgiven and now we can start being buddies.”
“I don’t expect anything. I did what you asked as a favor, that’s all.”
“Is that why you didn’t tell me the truth about the bashings? Because you were doing me a favor?”
Runyon didn’t answer.
“You think I don’t know about Troy Douglass? Word gets around fast in the gay community. And I had to get blindsided with it from somebody else. I felt like a goddamn fool.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry.” Voice dripping scorn. “So why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wasn’t sure of the real motive the last time I saw you.”
“Oh, bullshit. Don’t tell me you didn’t know about Kenny and Troy then. That’s why you wanted to talk to him alone at the hospital.”
“All right. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think it was my place.”
“More bullshit. Didn’t think I’d believe you is more like it. Didn’t think I could handle the truth.”
Again Runyon was silent.
“I’m not stupid, you know,” Joshua said. “Or blind. I know what Kenny is, I’ve known all along. Troy wasn’t his first affair since we’ve been together. And I’m sure it won’t be the last.”
“Then why do you stay with him?”
“I love him, that’s why.”
“Enough to risk him giving you AIDS?”
“That’s right. You understand what it’s like to love somebody so much you can’t stand the thought of losing them, no matter what.” His belligerent, challenging tone. “That’s how much you loved the woman you left my mother for, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t leave your mother for Colleen.”
“But that’s how much you loved her.”
“Yes,” Runyon said, “that’s how much I loved her.”
“Well, at least I still have Kenny. And I’m going to keep him. He’s coming home tomorrow.”
Nothing to say to that.
“You should’ve told me,” Joshua said.
“And you’re going to hold it against me that I didn’t.”
“Well?”
“Another reason to hate me, another excuse not to deal with me.”
“I don’t need excuses. I have all the reasons I need, twenty years and a dead mother worth of reasons.”
No use in arguing, in any more talk; they might have been living in alternate universes, for all the connection between them. Neither of them said good-bye when Runyon left. He might see Joshua again and he might not; it wouldn’t matter to their relationship either way. His son was lost to him, had been lost to him the day the Seattle court granted Andrea sole custody.
Colleen was lost to him, too, but he had his memories of her. In that respect she was still alive, he’d have her as long as he lived and breathed. She was all he’d ever needed. She was all he’d ever really had.
31
Cybil opened her door, took one long look at me standing there alone, and she knew why I’d come. I could see the knowledge in her tawny eyes, in the play of emotions across her still beautiful face.
She turned without saying anything, leaving the door open. I went in, followed her into the living room. It was warm over here in Larkspur and her air conditioner was turned on; the motor had a hitch in it that created a clunking noise every thirty seconds or so. Cybil hesitated with her back to me, then sat down in her favorite chair. I sat facing her. The air conditioner made the only sounds in the room while each of us waited for the other to speak.
“I destroyed the manuscript,” she said finally. “Burned it last night.”
“I figured you probably would.”
“Do you think I lied to you about what it was, what was in it?”
“No. It’s what you didn’t say that keeps bothering me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Come on, Cybil. I’m not an enemy, I’m family and I’m your friend. I’m also a detective. I know when I’m not getting the whole story and the one I am getting is too pat.”
“Kerry’s satisfied. Why can’t you be?”
“I’m not so sure she is. If this concerns her in some way-”
“It doesn’t.”
“If it does, she has a right to know the whole truth.”
“Does she? I don’t think so.”
“Those messages from Dancer in the hospital-D-Day and amazing grace. They weren’t just references to his unpublished novel. They were personal.”
She looked away.
“References to something that happened between the two of you,” I said. “D-Day. Occurred to me that could mean something other than the day of the European invasion. It could mean a special day in his life-Dancer’s Day.”
The words made her flinch. “Oh, God.”
“Did you have an affair with him in 1944?”
“No.”
“At any time during the war?”
“No.”
“After the war?”
“No.”
“All right, a one-night stand then.”
“No.”
“If you’re trying to split hairs about your relationship-”
“He raped me,” she said.
I stared at her.
“You’re bound and determined to know the truth, all right, that’s the truth. It didn’t happen in June of 1944, it happened on VJ Day, 1945. Dancer’s Day-Donovan’s Day in his damned manuscript. The day he took what I’d never give him voluntarily.”
“Jesus. What happened?”
She stared off into space for a time before she answered. And I was glad, once she started talking, that I couldn’t see exactly what she was seeing inside her head. “There was a party at his apartment. An end of the war party-a lot of heavy drinking and unrestrained hilarity, all of us a little crazy with happiness and relief. Russ kept feeding me drinks and I didn’t have the sense to know when to stop taking them. I remember him saying he’d take care of me, see that I got home, but in the morning when I woke up I was in his bed. Naked and alone in his bed with the worst hangover of my life. I couldn’t remember a thing about what happened after the party broke up-I still can’t.”
“Where was he?”
“Up and dressed by then. When he came into the bedroom… I knew I’d been violated, a woman can tell when she’s been used that way, and I screamed accusations at him. He denied it, of course. The kind of denial with a smirk wrapped up in it. He claimed that all he’d done was take my clothes-so he could get a glimpse of what I looked like without them, he said-and put me to bed.”
“What did you do?”
“What could I do? It was his word against mine. Times were so different back then. Women were considered as much to blame as men, particularly in cases of acquaintance rape. And the circumstances.. all the drinking, passing out the way I did… it would have made an awful scandal. I couldn’t bear that, and I didn’t want Ivan to know. It happened only a few days before he came home from Washington.”