Whispers and Lies

by Diane Pershing

  She was so caught up in the delicious sensations of Will’s mouth and tongue, that it took a minute for her to hear her inner voice.

  Hey, it was saying. This is a repeat of last night. Remember? When he kissed you silly and then stopped it abruptly. Ready for an encore?

  She was not. Pushing him away, she took a step back.

  Will seemed momentarily unsteady on his feet; his mouth was parted slightly, his breathing rapid. Looking at her, dazed, he asked, “Why did you do that?”

  She didn’t answer because what she might have offered would sound way too complicated—insecurity, trust issues, old scars from not feeling pretty enough, and loving him too much and too silently in her youth. Instead, she said, “You’d better go, Will.”

  Still appearing confused, he stared at her for a moment or two. Then he seemed to gather his wits about him. Mouth in a straight line, he said, “Yeah. You’re right. See you—” he glanced at his watch “—in two hours.”

  “Two hours?”

  “At the rehearsal.”

  “Oh, right. I’ll see you, yes.”

  After an abrupt nod, he walked out of the bedroom. As Lou sank onto the edge of her mother’s bed, her senses reeling, her mind whirling in confusion, she heard the front door slam with a resounding thud.

  Chapter 5

  Lou watched the rehearsal with interest. She’d never been this involved with the behind-the-scenes machinations of a wedding before. Will would be giving Nancy away, as both their parents had died. She followed instructions for her bit as maid of honor, then watched the judge who was going to marry Nancy and Bob taking them through their paces.

  Bob Weiss was midsize, stocky, with a hairline just beginning to recede, glasses, a nice twinkle in his eyes and a hearty laugh. He was a good guy and had been in love with Nancy forever, it seemed—from the sixth grade on. She’d finally come around to feeling the same at their ten-year high school reunion four years ago, and now they were taking that final step together.

  Bob’s boss at the insurance company was his best man. Lou met Bob’s mom and dad and his three brothers—all of them were midsize, stocky and wore glasses. She thought they were some of the dearest people she’d ever met.

  After the rehearsal, Bob and Nancy treated everyone to dinner at the local Italian restaurant, where huge, heaping plates of pasta were served family-style. Nancy maneuvered it so Lou sat next to Will, even though one of her bridesmaids, Kathy-Ann Howard, had been trying to insinuate herself into Will’s personal space all during the rehearsal.

  Lou wondered if there was any history between Kathy-Ann and Will, which wouldn’t be out of the question; he’d run through most of the “popular” girls at Susanville High during his tenure there. She wondered also if Will was aware of his sister’s matchmaking, and if he was harboring any resentment against her for having put on the brakes this afternoon. But she refused to let any of these matters dispel the nice warm glow she was feeling surrounded by a couple in love and their approving families. She’d always yearned to be part of a large, boisterous clan, and this might be as close to that as she would ever get.

  “Talk about stupid traditions,” Will muttered as he sipped his wine.

  “What’s the matter? You don’t care for all the fuss?”

  “Too much. Way too much. How we walk down the aisle, how slow, how fast, when I peel off and go to my chair, which side you stand on, do this, do that, repeating all these words about loving and bonding.”

  “You’d rather they stood in the town square and declared themselves husband and wife?”

  “Works for me. Less fuss, less muss.”

  “You’re grumbling and being a curmudgeon. It’s your sister and she’s in love, so she wants all the trappings. Most females do. It’s in the DNA.”

  “I know. It’s weird, really it is, to see her such a grown-up, so in charge of her life. I don’t know.” He gave Lou a perplexed smile. “Just yesterday, she had braids and bugged the piss out of me to be taken along wherever I went.”

  “Amazing thing about human beings. They grow up, whether we like it or not.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hey, at least you got to have a sibling. I hated being an only child.”

  “It sounds like heaven to me.”

  “Well, it’s not. And, sorry, I won’t let you add weddings to our list of stupid traditions. It’s on my list of the good ones. Whatever you say or think.”

  “All right, all right.” Grinning, he held his hands up. “Whatever. I give in. Weddings are necessary. Yet one more example of women civilizing men, which is probably a wise thing, as my sex is basically uncivilized.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” she said cheerfully, then took a sip of wine.

  Will glanced at her plate, heaped with spaghetti and meat-balls. “Hey, you’re not eating again.”

  “Yeah, I’ve kind of gotten out of the habit.”

  “Get back in it. Really, Lou, I mean it.”

  “Are you nagging me?”

  “If that’s what it takes. Bodies need fuel. You’re a doctor—you should know that.”

  She’d always hated being told what to do, by anyone, including her mom, but Will’s order had so obviously come from kindness and concern rather than authoritarianism that it warmed her all over. She picked up her fork and twirled a couple of strands of spaghetti around it, then put the whole thing in her mouth and tasted it. It was good. She chewed, swallowed and licked tomato sauce from around her mouth.

  Will found himself unable to take his eyes off Lou’s lips and the way that pretty pink tongue captured morsels of sauce and brought them back into her mouth. When she noticed him noticing her, she stopped chewing. “What? Do I have tomato stuff on my upper lip?”

  “No. I’m just thinking how sexy you look when you do that.”

  “Do what. Eat?”

  “Run your tongue around your mouth.”

  Face flushed with embarrassment, she set her fork down. “Oh, Will, don’t.”

  “Sorry. Can’t seem to help it. But I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “It’s not upsetting. Well, yes, it is, kind of, but only because I’m not sure how to react. I mean, I don’t have the gift of light, sophisticated banter.”

  “Sure you do.”

  “I mean when it comes to me being told I look sexy.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, duh. Because I’m not.”

  “You’re not what?”

  “Sexy.”

  “You’re nuts. You are sexy. To me, anyway.”

  She wrinkled her nose, blushed a little more, then took another sip of wine. “If you say so,” she muttered.

  “I do.” He imbibed some more of his wine, then pointed to her plate. “Now eat.”

  “You’re ordering me around again. Cut it out.”

  “See? I find that extremely sexy.”

  “What?”

  “That light of battle in your eyes, like you’ve been issued a challenge and will counterattack at dawn. Your eyebrows get all scrunchy—you have very pretty eyebrows, you know.”

  She rose from her chair. “I’m going to move.”

  He pulled her back down. “No, you’re not.”

  Again, she tried to get up. “No, really, I’ll get Kathy-Ann to change seats with me.”

  “Oh, God, no,” Will said, horrified. “I’ll be good. I swear. We can change the subject, okay?”

  With a pleased and triumphant smile on her face, Lou resumed her seat. “So, not a Kathy-Ann fan, eh?” She picked up her fork, twirled some more spaghetti and put it in her mouth.

  “Tell me about your marriage,” he said.

  She nearly spit out her pasta. “What? Where did that come from?”

  He shrugged. “You mentioned you’d been married once. I didn’t know about that.”

  She glared at him for a moment, then said, “I have a better idea. How’s this? Instead of me answering all your questions, why don’t we talk about your past, instead,” she c
hallenged. “Game?”

  He splayed his hands. “Anything you want to know,” he said easily, “I’m yours.”

  “We can start with the basics. Do you root for a baseball team, where do you live in Washington, what are your politics?”

  “The Mets, first, last and always. DuPont Circle, in a basement two-bedroom condo that is too dark, but I love it. And I’m a registered Independent because as a journalist I try to keep an open mind. What else?”

  She sat back in her seat, her arms folded under her breasts, and studied him. He could see her brain working. “You’re so nosy, I’d like to ask you really intimate stuff, just to show you how it feels.”

  “Ask away.”

  She waited a few beats before saying, “Have you ever had your heart broken?”

  “You mean as a grown-up?”

  “Okay.”

  “No. I haven’t had my heart broken,” he replied.

  “All right. Then how many serious relationships have you had?”

  It took him a second or two to come up with, “Serious? None.”

  “Not ever?”

  “I don’t date women who want to settle down, and if a woman begins to make noises like that, I end it as nicely as I can. I do all I can to avoid becoming involved, Lou. Trust me.”

  “Oh, I do.” Her pretty brown eyes softened with vulnerability just for a moment. “Then why did you kiss me last night? And today?”

  “Impulse.”

  “And why do you tell me I’m sexy? Why do you keep flirting with me?”

  Now he just had to grin at her confusion—it mirrored some of his own. “I really don’t know why, but I can’t seem to help myself. Hey, it’s almost over. I’m leaving in two days. Put up with me, okay?”

  If my heart doesn’t get broken in the meantime, Lou thought. How could she match the light, easy flirtatiousness that was obviously second nature to Will when, to her, everything about Will Jamison had always been so meaningful, so intense, so very, very serious?

  “So,” he said, “ready to tell me about your marriage?”

  He was back on that again. Sighing, Lou gave up the fight. If she chose to be in his company—and, God help her, she chose it, most definitely—then he would ask and she would answer. That loss of power again, when one cares more deeply than the other.

  “It was nothing, really,” she told him. “It didn’t last too long, a couple of years is all. It was right after I graduated college, before veterinary school.”

  “Who was he?”

  “Charley Conrad. Business major, going into his dad’s import-export firm.”

  “What happened?”

  “That would depend on who you’re asking. According to him, I wasn’t woman enough for a cool, sexy guy like him. According to me, he made a play for every female with functioning estrogen between the ages of eighteen and forty, from the get-go.”

  “An obvious slimeball. Why did you marry him?”

  She thought about it. “I think I talked myself into being in love with him. I was flattered to be asked. I was lonely and wanted a family. I was young and foolish. I’m not really sure.”

  “Why did he marry you?”

  “I’ve never been sure. Maybe he thought I’d be so grateful that he rescued me from a life of spinsterhood, I wouldn’t give him a hard time about his running around.”

  “Did you know that was what he was doing?”

  “Probably, but I didn’t admit it to myself. Not for a long time.”

  “Who ended it? You or him?”

  “Actually, I did. I came home, saw him taking a rolled-up magazine to our puppy for the sin of peeing on the rug. I grabbed the dog and left. Divorced him, took back my own name. Do what you like to me, but hurt my animals and it’s over.”

  Will shook his head. “What a creep.”

  “Agreed. So, you’ve never even been in love?” she asked quickly, switching the subject. “That’s hard to believe.”

  “In love?” He thought about it, then shrugged easily. “A couple of times, I guess.”

  “But you said you’d never been involved in a serious relationship.”

  “Being in love doesn’t have to get serious, not if you stop it in time.”

  Her insides shuddered. His world and hers were so vastly different. To him, love was a game, a sensation. To her, it was precious and all too rare. “Oh, boy,” she said slowly and with feeling, “do I feel sorry for the women you’ve dated.”

  He looked almost hurt. “Why? I always told them the score right from the start. Always.”

  “But women don’t listen to that kind of thing, you know that. They’re sure they’ll be the one you’ll be willing to change for.”

  He splayed his hands. “Not my problem.”

  “Have you ever gotten even close?”

  “To what?”

  “Commitment, marriage?”

  “Me? No way. I’m not the marrying kind.”

  Resting an elbow on the table, Lou supported her head with her hand and gazed up at him. “Why, exactly? I’m curious.”

  Her question was meant to be taken seriously, and he seemed to understand that. “I’m too involved in my work, Lou,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t wish myself on a wife and family. I would put them second, I just know I would.”

  “Like your dad did?”

  He nodded. “Like my dad did. And to avoid what I went through as a kid, I’ll stay single.” He chuckled ruefully. “I know it sounds unfeeling, but I honestly think I’m doing the world a service.”

  “Good for you,” she said wryly, and thought about getting up from the table, excusing herself and going home. Will was like some pretty toy being dangled in front of her, but one that was forever and ever just out of reach.

  “By the way,” he said before she’d made up her mind what to do, “there’s no one special in my life right now, in case you’re wondering.”

  “According to you, there’s never anyone special.”

  “Let me put it this way. I’m not seeing anyone.”

  “And you’re telling me this because…?”

  “Just in case you were wondering.”

  “I wasn’t. But who was that on the phone last night? We were sitting in the kitchen at Nancy’s, and a woman called you.”

  “How did you know it was a woman?”

  “You lowered your voice and turned your head away from me. It was either an undercover White House operative on the other end or a woman.”

  He laughed, and she felt a foolish burst of pleasure that he appreciated her sense of humor. “That was Barbara, just someone I date once in a while.”

  “I see.”

  “And you? Are you seeing anybody?” he asked her.

  “Isn’t that obvious from everything I told you? Nope.”

  “What a shame.” He shook his head. “You’re a terrific woman. Funny and interesting and pretty. They should be knocking down your door.”

  Again, her insides were warmed by his compliment. “My door is quite firmly in place, thank you.”

  “Then it must be by choice. Your choice, I mean.”

  “I haven’t thought much about it, Will, really. I mean, dating.” She shivered at the word. “Let’s put it on the stupid traditions list. The very word gives me the creeps.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, you know, the small talk, the silences, the mind games, how soon should I expect what and how soon can I get out of here?”

  “Wow. You haven’t had a very happy dating life.”

  “And you have?”

  “Dating’s fun. It’s a challenge.”

  “I decline the challenge, thank you.”

  Eyes narrowed now, he studied her, making her feel both self-conscious and on guard. “What is it about you?”

  “In what area?”

  “You are a self-assured, successful, college-trained professional, a confident, loyal friend, a loving daughter to your late mother, a bright, interesting woman, and yet, when it comes to men, to
dating and relationships, you have zero self-esteem.”

  “What was your first clue?” she said dryly to cover up an intense urge to duck under the table. “The faces I made or the words I used?”

  He wouldn’t be deterred. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why don’t you have any confidence?”

  She felt all squirmy inside. As if she’d been found not wearing any underwear. “I told you. Classic Psych 101 stuff. No dad, lots of bad male role models.”

  He waved a hand dismissively. “Hey, Lou, lots of people have dysfunctional family histories—sometimes I think there’s no such thing as ‘functional’—but they get over their past and they do okay.”

  “Maybe they do. I don’t.”

  “Nah, there’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “And you’re pushing again.”

  “Yeah, I am.” He actually looked mildly chagrined. “It really isn’t any of my business and I know it. You don’t want to answer, you don’t have to. It’s just that I’m curious.”

  Possibly it was the way he backed off—which might have been calculated—that made her sigh and give it to him straight. “When you spend your life being short and dumpy, not to mention with frizzy hair and freckles, they don’t exactly line up to take you to the senior prom. It has a lasting effect.”

  “That was high school. None of us were at our best in high school.”

  “You were always at your best.”

  “Nah, it just looked that way. But seriously, high school is over, or hadn’t you heard?”

  “It’s the same now.”

  Cocking his head to one side, he asked, “Is that really how you see yourself? Short, dumpy, bad hair?”

  “It’s how I am.”

  Now he sat back and assessed her, like a painter studying his model. “Okay, short, yes. But not a midget. And yeah, freckles, but not a lot of them and they’re cute. And there’s something kind of fun about your hair—it’s a great color and if it sometimes gets away from you, so what? And lastly? Lady, you are not dumpy, trust me.”

  “Not now. But most of my life. And whatever the outside looks like, inside, I still feel the same as I’ve always felt. And now that we’re being totally candid here, dumpy is a euphemism for fat. I am a fat person currently masquerading as a thin person.”