Fiona Range

by Mary McGarry Morris

  She nodded.

  “Could you ever feel the same way about me? Do you think you could?” he whispered.

  “I already do.”

  Grinning, he started to pull her to the door. “Come on, let’s get out of here. We’ll go somewhere. Someplace warm and private.”

  “No.” She laughed and turned off the light. “We’ll stay right up here, right on top of them, and they’ll never know what we’re doing,” she said as she undressed.

  He sat on the edge of the divan and kept reaching out through the dark to touch her.

  “It’ll be our own private party.” She groaned as he pulled her with him onto the cold, flat mattress.

  He was the most passionate lover she’d ever been with, and the gentlest. When they were finished she lay with her head in the crook of his arm, the prickly shawl pulled over them. She had no idea what time it was. She wasn’t sure if they’d come up here two hours or twenty minutes ago.

  “Now what do we do?” he said, putting his open hand on her damp belly.

  “I’ll go down by the back stairs, then you come a couple minutes after. They’ll all be at the front of the house.”

  “I mean about Elizabeth.”

  She sat up and rolled over on top of him. “Well, I think the first thing we have to do is get ourselves down from here without being seen.”

  “We could just stay up here, then leave tomorrow when everyone’s at church,” he said.

  “Okay.” She lay back and, closing her eyes, fell asleep. She woke up to the muffled sound of a car’s engine starting down in the driveway. “Rudy!”

  “We better get dressed,” he whispered. He raised himself up on one elbow.

  “I thought you said we could stay till tomorrow.”

  “I was just trying to be clever and romantic,” he said, his mouth against hers.

  With a sigh she reached up and turned on the light. He sat up, then looked back, alarmed. He pointed to her neck. “Those marks, they’re down both sides of your neck!”

  “It’s from a scarf,” she said, touching her throat. “It was this thing I did. When I was trying to tie it. At the coffee shop,” she added, remembering she’d already told him that the bruises on her chin had happened at work.

  “I’ve seen marks like those before. They’re from someone’s hand, Fiona.” His jaw dropped open. “Was it Grady? Did he do that?”

  “No!” she said, meeting his stare. “Of course not.”

  “Then who did?”

  “Nobody!” she said, shivering as she pulled on her stockings. She was freezing and suddenly very nervous about going downstairs.

  “I know what they are, Fiona,” he said, buttoning his shirt. “And I know the kind of pressure it takes to make them.”

  She spun around. “Look! Don’t do this to me! It was just this random thing that happened, and it has nothing to do with you, okay?”

  He started to say something, then nodded instead.

  She went downstairs first. The party had quieted somewhat. Most of the food had been eaten, and there was coffee brewing in the kitchen. Elizabeth, Susan, and Ginny were sitting on the back sofa in the living room. Elizabeth looked anxiously past Fiona as she came into the room.

  “Where’s George?” Fiona asked quickly. “I’ve been looking all over the place for him.”

  Elizabeth said he’d left with the Matleys a little while ago. “He said to tell you he was sorry, but he was really tired.”

  “Doesn’t he know he’s supposed to leave with the girl that brung him?” she said, trying to look annoyed.

  “He thought you left. I’m the one who told him to go with the Matleys,” Elizabeth said, staring at her.

  “You look tired,” Ginny said, getting up. She patted down the side of Fiona’s hair, then held the back of her hand to Fiona’s cheek. “And you’re so flushed. You feel like you’ve got a fever.”

  “It got so hot in here,” Susan said, wondering aloud if she should tell Arlene to turn down the thermostat. No one answered, and she didn’t move.

  “Have you seen Rudy?” Elizabeth looked past her again.

  “Maybe he left with the Matleys too,” Fiona said with a foolish grin, unsubduable even under Ginny’s scrutiny.

  “I feel so bad. He hardly knew anyone,” Elizabeth said. “He probably had a miserable time.”

  “He seemed to be enjoying himself when I saw him,” Ginny said.

  “Yah, he was when I saw him too,” Fiona said, then burst out laughing. They looked at her. “Please ignore me,” she said, waving her hand. She covered her mouth and took a deep breath. “I think I’ve had just a little too much fun tonight.” She was laughing again. She knew by their quick glances they thought she was drunk.

  “Speaking of fun things, I was just telling Elizabeth about this new account I have,” Susan said. “They’re wedding consultants. They do everything. Find the right gown, plan the menu, the flowers. They even—now get this—send out the invitations.”

  “Really?” Fiona said, then had to cover her mouth again.

  “Look who’s here,” Ginny said as Rudy came around the corner. “The missing fiancé.”

  Elizabeth hurried over and took his hand, holding it in both of hers while she spoke to him. He nodded.

  “Poor thing. He looks so confused,” Susan said.

  “Mother thinks our little Lizzie’s giving him a run for his money,” Ginny said, watching them. “I asked her what was going on, but Lizzie says it’s just his crazy schedule. She says he works so many hours she never gets to see him anymore.”

  “Fiona,” Susan said in a conspiratorial tone. She leaned closer. “I just heard the good news.”

  “What good news?”

  “You and George. That you’re . . . well, going out,” Susan said with an uncertain glance at Ginny.

  “Well we’re not,” Fiona said, but they hadn’t heard her because they both began to talk at once as Elizabeth led Rudy over to them.

  “Rudy!” Susan said.

  “We were so worried,” Ginny said. “My father said the last he saw you were talking to Lucretia Kendale.”

  “Yes and believe me, she’s quite the lady,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

  “We figured you were getting the cook’s tour,” Susan said.

  “Oh, so that’s what it’s called!” Fiona blurted with a bawdy laugh.

  “Rudy’s going to be leaving now,” Elizabeth said.

  “Yes,” he said, looking at everyone but Fiona. “I’ve got an early shift tomorrow.”

  “You look exhausted,” Susan said.

  Fiona picked up a magazine and flipped through it. To keep from smiling she chewed the inside of her mouth.

  “I was just reading an article about interns and how stressed out they get having to work eighteen and nineteen hours straight,” Ginny said.

  “Well I don’t do that anymore,” he said. He glanced at Fiona and she grinned.

  “Rudy’s not an intern,” Elizabeth said.

  “No, I know,” Ginny said quickly. “But when I read it I couldn’t help thinking of you. Elizabeth’s been telling us about your crazy schedule and how you—”

  “So on that note I guess I better get you home,” Elizabeth said to Rudy, turning to go before Ginny could say any more.

  “But I thought you drove here,” Fiona said, looking at him puzzledly.

  “Elizabeth picked me up. She got sent to town on a last-minute errand,” he explained with everyone looking on.

  “Oh.” She nodded. An errand that must have been her aunt and uncle’s way of getting Elizabeth into Rudy’s bed tonight. “Well I can give him a ride. I’m going right by his house,” she said to Elizabeth.

  “Oh yah, sure,” Rudy said, and Elizabeth looked relieved. “That makes sense.” They smiled at Fiona and spoke at the same time.

  “Are you sure?” Elizabeth said.

  “If you don’t mind, that is,” Rudy said.

  “No, of course not,” she said, smiling ba
ck broadly. “If I minded, would I have offered?”

  There were in the front hall, putting on their coats. Her arm brushed his. They glanced at one another and tried not to laugh. Her heart raced, and her ears were filled with a sound like running water. So acutely conscious was she of his nearness that her cheeks tingled. She dropped her glove, and he picked it up, then held it open. As her hand slipped into the leather it felt as if she were reaching into some soft deep part of him.

  The hallway door opened. “Oh!” Uncle Charles said, emerging from the candlelit shadows of the kitchen, where the last guest lingered over coffee. “There you are. Arlene just said you were on your way.” His head moved as if with the slightest tremor. “I didn’t realize you were leaving together.”

  “I’m going to give him a ride home.”

  “She’s giving me a ride home.”

  They answered in unison, each not daring to say the other’s name.

  “Can’t Elizabeth? I mean, is everything all right? I didn’t see you for a while there,” her uncle said to Rudy.

  Fiona couldn’t help smiling. She let Rudy explain that she was going right by his apartment, and this way Elizabeth would be spared the drive back alone.

  “But I’m sure she doesn’t mind,” her uncle persisted.

  “No, and I don’t either,” Fiona said with an irrepressible giggle as she kissed Uncle Charles goodbye.

  “I don’t know, Fiona, you’ve been drinking,” he said stiffly. “Driving’s probably not such a good idea.”

  “I’ve had one beer!” she said.

  “Well, why don’t you both stay over?” he asked, looking at Rudy. “Get up in the morning, have a big country breakfast.”

  “He can’t.”

  “I can’t. But thank you.”

  They couldn’t look at one another. She wondered if her eyes were as bright with desire as his.

  “Oh God,” she groaned as they came down the path, arms folded, careful to keep a good space between them. She could feel her uncle watching them all the way to her car. She started the engine and pulled onto the narrow road. The half-moon was a patch of ragged haze in the cloudy sky. When she turned at the intersection they burst out laughing. She put her hand on his thigh, and he ran his hand through her hair.

  “Your ears are cold.” He stroked the lobe between his fingers. He was quiet for a moment. “You won’t go near that guy again, will you?”

  “What guy?” She tilted her cheek against his hand.

  “The one who hurt you.”

  “I told you. No one hurt me,” she said, lowering her eyes for a moment as blinding headlights filled her rearview mirror. There was a car so close on her bumper that if she stopped it would hit her. She looked in the mirror again but all she could discern through the glare was the shape of a man’s head. She drove slowly, glancing back, then blinking to focus on the road ahead.

  “Can I sleep with you tonight?” Rudy asked in a hoarse voice as he ran his finger along the curve of her chin.

  “No, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said.

  “I mean just that, to sleep. I want to be with you, Fiona. I need to be with you.”

  “No. Not tonight. I can’t.” And now as she looked in the mirror, she saw what she feared. It was him. He’d been waiting for her to leave the party, and he was following her back. Their eyes met in the rearview mirror; hers, startled and confused, and Patrick Grady’s, glowing with rage.

  Chapter 17

  It was the first Saturday she had worked in a long time. Maxine had called at six to say that Donna Drouin was sick with the flu and couldn’t come in. Twenty minutes later Fiona dragged through the door, wet-haired and shaky with sleep. The coffee shop stayed busy throughout the day. With bright sunshine and temperatures unseasonably in the sixties, people filled the downtown streets and stores. The hectic pace kept Fiona’s mind off her anger with Patrick, and now in the afternoon’s unrelenting glare, her guilt and confusion over what had happened last night with Rudy.

  Sandy had just come into the coffee shop with her daughters, who were dressed in patent leather shoes, matching wool coats, and velvet jumpers. One wore cranberry and the other green. Sandy hadn’t expected to see Fiona working instead of Donna. Her eyes were irritated and her nose was red as if she’d been crying. Fiona had heard that Todd was better and back working at the store. He’d probably started running around again, she guessed, judging by Sandy’s weariness. Fiona told the girls how pretty they looked. She was surprised when they not only thanked her but told her she looked very pretty too. The last time she’d seen them they’d been squabbling at one another to shut up. She asked if they were all dressed up for a party.

  “Nonnie likes us to wear pretty dresses,” answered Brandy, the older child.

  “Who’s Nonnie?”

  “Todd’s mother,” Sandy said. “It was her idea, instead of Grammie or Nana.”

  “Cute,” Fiona said. Todd’s mother wouldn’t want anyone thinking she was the actual grandmother of the little Rudman bastards.

  “Yah, it is, isn’t it? Like a kinda, ‘Oh, I’m this special person in your life, but we can have fun too, you know?’” Sandy said, jiggling her head and wiggling her fingers.

  My God, Fiona thought. She must be driving the Prescotts right out of their minds.

  The girls ordered hot dogs and french fries. They asked for chocolate milk, but Sandy told them it wasn’t on the menu. Fiona said she’d make some up, special, just for them.

  “That’s awful nice of you,” Sandy said when she returned with crayons and paper place mats for the girls to color on. “Girls, you thank Miss Range for being so nice to you.”

  “Thank you, Miss Range,” both girls chimed back as they began to draw.

  “You’re so very welcome, Brandy and Mandy,” Fiona said, smiling. They were beautiful children. “Except for one thing,” she said, bending close. “Please don’t call me Miss Range. You never used to. We’re old friends! So you just call me the same name your mommy does.”

  “I can’t. I’ll get in big trouble,” Brandy said, not looking up from the tiny eyes, nose, and mouth she was adding on to the huge misshapen head she had drawn.

  “No, you won’t, honey. Not if I say you can,” Fiona assured her.

  “Can I?” Brandy asked with a skeptical glance at her mother. “Can I say it too? Can I say ‘that bitch’?”

  “Brandy!” Sandy cried and smacked her hand. The crayon flew onto the floor. Brandy’s eyes closed with quiet sobs as her mother told her that wasn’t nice. Nice girls didn’t say bad words. Only bad girls said things like that. Did she want to be a bad girl? Is that what she wanted? To be a bad girl and have no friends and have everybody going around all the time saying, oh, don’t play with her, that Brandy Rudman, she’s a bad, bad girl. “Is that what you want? Is it? Is it?” Sandy hissed.

  “Sandy, come on.” Fiona sighed and shook her head. “Poor kid, it’s not her fault. I mean—”

  “She knows better!” Sandy said, her own mouth trembling and her eyes wide and wet. “She knows how she’s supposed to act. She knows!”

  “But she’s only four, Sandy. I mean, it just doesn’t seem fair to blame a little kid for telling it like it is. Come on.” She squeezed Sandy’s shoulder and now Sandy lowered her head and sniffed, trying not to cry.

  “You look tired,” she said when she returned with their lunch.

  Sandy said she’d spent the last two days packing. “Oh!” Fiona said, hoping it didn’t sound as vulturous as it felt. So that’s what was wrong. Dumb, trusting little Sandy had finally gotten the big kiss-off from the Prescotts.

  Sandy explained that she and Todd were moving into their own house.

  Fiona gulped. “You’re buying a house?”

  Well, renting one, with the Prescotts’ help, Sandy said Todd’s mother was just too strict with the girls. With all her antique rugs they couldn’t even wear shoes inside the house. They couldn’t come out of the bedroom before seven-thirty
in the morning, and they had to be in bed for the night no later than seven.

  “It’s just getting to be way too much,” Sandy said. “She’s like so wicked strict.”

  “Yes, it shows,” Fiona said, the barb lost on Sandy.

  “Yah, we were even thinking about getting my old place back, but then Myrna got all upset, and she kept begging us to stay. Next thing I know she’s bringing me to see this house. It’s got three bedrooms and this finished cellar kind of playroom. It’s really cute.”

  “But Todd says it’s a dump,” Brandy said, glancing up from her scribbling.

  “It just needs a little work, that’s all,” Sandy said with pointed exasperation. “Nonnie says it’ll be good practice for Todd—you know, for someday when we do buy our own house.”

  Forcing a bright smile, Fiona tried to tell herself the twinge in her chest was pity, not envy. Maxine was at the table now asking about the wedding plans. Sandy said the wedding had been moved up to next month. “Myrna says there’s no sense in waiting. All it does is give Todd more time to fred.”

  Maxine looked puzzled. “What do you mean, fred?”

  “You know, worry,” Sandy said.

  Fiona rolled her eyes as she headed into the kitchen on her way home. It bothered her to still have these feelings for Todd. It wasn’t that she wanted him for herself. She just didn’t want to know that someone else had him. That’s what Elizabeth must have felt seeing George in her arms. And now there was Rudy. “My God,” she muttered as she hurried out to her car. “What the hell have I done? What’s wrong with me? Am I nuts? Jesus Christ, I must be!”

  It was getting dark. She didn’t notice the paper under the windshield wiper until she started the car and turned on the lights.

  I NEED TO SEE YOU. I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU.

  PLEASE COME. IT’S VERY IMPORTANT. PATRICK

  There was no answer, so she knocked again. His car was in the driveway, but the house was dark inside. She hit the door with her fist. “Patrick!” she called, banging on it. When it finally opened, he stood there, glassy-eyed and disheveled, but grinning. He squinted into the porch light and explained that he’d fallen asleep, but he’d been hoping she’d come. He’d been waiting all day.