An Imperfect Process

by Mary Jo Putney

  While waiting for coffee to brew, she climbed the stairs and drifted through the building. She halted in the door of the sanctuary and raised her gaze to the circular stained- glass window over the front door. Though stained glass had not been a part of the Quaker tradition in which she had been raised, the spiritual energy in this old church often reminded her of meetings.

  Callie had been a pagan at heart, but she believed a child should be raised in a religion. Because she deeply admired Quaker values and integrity, she had chosen to take Val to the Stony Run Meeting. The meeting house was on the same campus as Friends School, where Val had been educated.

  Though she hadn't attended a meeting for almost two decades, the Quaker passion for justice had been bred into her bones. That passion was one of her reasons for choosing the law as a career. More and more, she was seeing how much it was behind her decision to open her own office.

  The rule of law was at the heart of civilized values, and injustice outraged her. It was an interesting combination of traits inherited from both Callie and Brad. She turned away from the stained-glass window, on the verge of tears because the knowledge that she was failing Daniel was breaking her heart

  Sinking into a chair, she closed her eyes and for the first time in many years began to pray. Please let justice be done for the sake of Daniel, for those who love him, and for our society, which is tragically diminished by the murder of innocents. And, if it be thy will, help me develop the strength and wisdom to do work that matters always rather than settling for prosperity and shallow approval.

  Though she tried to still her mind into Quaker silence, it was impossible. Too many strategies and anxieties ricocheted around her mind. With a sigh, she rose and returned to her office. As she entered the room, her gaze fell on the handsome silk flower bouquet that now graced her credenza. She and Lyssie had spent a second afternoon making arrangements. Next Saturday would be wreaths, and then maybe they would consider other kinds of crafts.

  Val touched the attractively worn brass vase that held the bouquet. The arrangement was Lyssie's work. Not only was the girl a natural storyteller but she had a good feeling for design, color, and texture. After a mere two Saturday afternoons she was beginning to open up with Val. Occasionally she laughed now, and she was beginning to develop confidence in her creativity.

  Val smiled a little. In a couple more years, her little sister would be wearing all black and pining to move to Greenwich Village. At least this relationship was developing satisfactorily even if Daniel's situation was critical.

  Pouring a mug of coffee, she settled in front of her computer again. She should be good for at least three or four more hours before her concentration burned out.

  She worked until Rob's return a little after midnight. Malcolm noticed first. Hearing his new master's footsteps, the hound rose and galumphed across Val's office, meeting Rob in the doorway.

  "Hi, old boy. How's it hangin'?" Rob knelt to give Malcolm a good double ear scratch before rising to greet Val.

  She went straight into his arms, feeling every particle of the fatigue she had been keeping at bay through sheer willpower. What a wonderful, warm, comforting body and warm, comforting spirit he had. Her eyes drifted shut. "Did you find anything useful?"

  "I located another man who remembered Omar Benson boasting about killing a cop, but he'd make a lousy witness. Shifty and mostly brain-fried. Joe Cady looked like a pillar of the community by comparison."

  "Still, it's another weight on our side of the scales even if he is a sleaze."

  "I suppose. He didn't have any insights about the long lost murder weapon." Rob massaged her knotted shoulders with one large hand. "How are you doing?"

  She shrugged without stirring from her comfortable position in his arms. "I'm drafting a new petition for the Maryland Court of Appeals. When that's done, I'll start on a petition to the Supreme Court for a writ of certiorari, meaning a request that they hear the case if Maryland turns us down, but that's a really long shot. This Supreme Court is a conservative one, and there simply aren't any compelling constitutional questions to give us traction with them."

  He raised her face for a kiss. Even when she was mentally and physically drained, he could rouse her. She began to come alive, kissing him back with increasing interest.

  He ended the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. "With so much going wrong, I feel a powerful desire to build on what's good and true. Let's get married, Val."

  Her nerves jumped in a spasm of shock. "Married? It's way too soon to think about that!"

  "You know me better than anyone else, and I feel as if I know you pretty well." Taking her hand, he sat on the sofa and pulled her down beside him. "Granted we've been together for less than three months, but it's been intense since we're working together as well as dating. How much better do we need to know each other? Since you don't want to live together, I think it's time to at least put the idea of marriage on the negotiating table."

  She stared into his quartz-clear eyes and realized that he was dead serious. Heart hammering, she rose and began pacing. "I believe that the traditional response is, 'But sir, this is so sudden!'"

  "Is it?" He watched her like one of her cats eying a chipmunk. "I've been serious about you since the beginning, but I've been trying to keep my feelings under control so I won't send you skittering off.."

  He did know her pretty well, because she was definitely unnerved by his declaration. Maybe if she had been more receptive to the idea of living together, he wouldn't be brandishing marriage like a whip now. "Sorry about the skittishness. I've never been proposed to before."

  His brows arched. "Never? With your looks and charm and active dating history, no one ever asked to marry you?"

  "Not seriously."

  "Not seriously? Or you wouldn't let it become serious?" He leaned forward on the sofa, elbows on knees and hands clasped between. "What's wrong, Val? Is it me, or marriage in general?"

  "There's nothing wrong with you." She forced herself to stop pacing and look at him. His sun-touched hair needed cutting and his eyes were shadowed with fatigue, but he was still irresistibly attractive. "Even when I thought you were a common carpenter, I knew there was nothing common about you. Your intelligence, your consideration, your honesty." She smiled, wanting to lighten the mood. "Not to mention the fact that you turn me on like crazy. It's just... marriage? So soon?"

  "When will be long enough to talk about it? Six months? A year? Ten years? Or do you prefer a relationship like what your mother and Loren have?"

  She hesitated. Though she had rolled her eyes at Callie and Loren in the past, it looked pretty good at the moment. "Their arrangement does have some major pluses. They're together when they want to be but never under each other's feet."

  "That's fine for them, but not what I want." His clasped hands tightened. "I want to do the old-fashioned love and marriage and kids thing. I want to live under the same roof with you and work our way through the ups and downs and learn how many new ways I can love you as we grow old together. I... I want the kind of secure roots I've never had. What I don't want is to be a permanent boyfriend and sex toy like Loren is for your mother."

  She caught her breath. "That's not fair! Maybe you were serious from the beginning. I think I have been, too. But it still hasn't been very long."

  "So when is long enough?"

  She felt too tired for this discussion. Not to mention suffocated by his persistence. "Can't we put our relationship on hold until Daniel's fate is decided?" She went to him with a kiss, trying to convey the passion and caring she didn't know how to express in words. "I don't want to lose you, Rob. Just... don't rush me."

  Settling on his knee, she used her weight to carry them back against the sofa cushions before running her hand down his body. She craved passion, the profound connection of body to body that had always served her better than sweet-talking words.

  He responded instantly, hardening under her hand and returning her kiss hungrily. She was ab
out to unzip him when he broke away and transferred her to the sofa beside him. "No." His breathing was ragged. "Sex is great but it's not the answer this time."

  Startled from her sensual haze, she said shakily, "Does it have to be an answer? Isn't it enough to be comfort and pleasure and laughter?"

  He started to reach for her, then froze, anguish in his eyes, before standing and putting the width of the office between them. When he was a safe distance away, he turned to face her, his eyes bleak. "Maybe it is for you. It's not enough for me. I want commitment, Valentine. I love you, and it's getting harder and harder to bear when you slide away from anything that might be too demanding. If we put things on hold until after Daniel's case is resolved. how long will it be until you're involved in another crusade? Not that I have anything against crusades, but I don't want them to be more important than our relationship."

  She felt like crying, but refused to allow it. "You say I know you better than anyone, but I certainly didn't know what you've been thinking. I thought we have a good thing going, and it keeps getting better. I sure didn't guess that you think I slide away from anything demanding."

  "We do have a good thing, but I'm afraid of the pattern that's being set. There's too great a risk that I'll come to accept less than I want because it will become impossible to walk away from you." He closed his eyes for a moment, his expression unutterably weary. "So I guess the solution is to... walk away now."

  She froze with a chill that ran straight through her. "This is an ultimatum—take the ring or else?"

  He smiled humorlessly. "I don't have a ring. Would you accept an engagement Rolls Royce? The keys are upstairs. I'd be happy to go down mi my knees and present them to you."

  "This is turning into a really bad joke." Wrapping her arms around herself, she said pleadingly, "We're both too tired to have a sane conversation. Let's go to bed and talk about this in the morning."

  "Very well. You go to your bed, and I'll go to mine."

  "I'd much rather sleep with you." Not only did she crave his warmth, but it would give her a chance to exercise nonverbal arguments.

  "I'd prefer that, too, but it's not going to happen until, and unless, you're willing to take this relationship to a deeper level."

  "This is the strangest conversation I've ever had with a man." She shook her head, still not quite believing. "Don't quit now, Rob. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

  She thought she'd won when he returned and bent for a kiss, but his touch was fleeting. "We don't have to do rings or set a date. I just want you to seriously accept the possibility of a lasting commitment But even now you're not considering that, are you?"

  Anger began burning away her shock. "I don't respond well to pressure tactics."

  "Who does?" He sighed. "I'm drawing a line here for the sake of my own emotional health. I'm not optimistic that you really want to be married. If you did, it would have happened already."

  "You're hardly in a position to talk!"

  "Until I met you, I wasn't interested in marriage. I was running away, building a business, burying myself in work, then running away again. Exactly what you're still doing." His gaze on hers was compassionate. "Over the last four years my brain has slowly reprogrammed itself, and now I know I want more than I've had. I want commitment and emotionally intimacy."

  She drew a shaky breath. "You ask a lot."

  "I know. Maybe too much." With visible effort, he looked away. "Good night, Val. I think it's time that I started looking for another place to live." He snapped his fingers for Malcolm, who rose on bowed basset legs and obediently waddled to the door.

  She leaped to her feet, unable to believe that the best relationship she'd ever had was splintering in her hands. "Are you dropping Daniel's case?"

  "Of course not." He paused in the door. "Trying to save him is a way of trying to save my soul—a soul I risk losing if I allow myself to stay with you in the twilight zone. I'll continue to work on the case and rent you this church, but when the investigation is done, you won't be seeing me around here."

  This time she couldn't halt the stinging tears. "Don't leave me."

  He looked at her for an endless moment. "You know what I want, and you have my cell phone number. Think hard, and if you decide you're ready to take the next step, I'll be there. But to be honest, I think we have a better chance of saving Daniel—and the chances there are slim to none."

  Then he and the dog left, leaving only the sound of Malcolm's clacking claws to echo through the church.

  * * *

  Blindly Rob stepped out into the hot, humid night air, not quite believing what he had just done. No way had he intended to have a confrontation with Val when he stopped by her office. He hadn't thought beyond losing himself in her arms and maybe persuading her to come upstairs for the night.

  Instead, he'd become demanding and ended their relationship. Val was right to be startled. Three months of dating wasn't long at all. There was plenty of time to think about marriage.

  And yet, he was right, too. Though all she'd had to do was agree to think seriously about marriage, she wouldn't. She was like smoke, wafting through his hands whenever he tried to hold her.

  At least she was honest. Maybe it would have been better if she had lied....

  He squeezed his eyes shut as he remembered her anguished face. He was insane to walk away. Yet he was falling deeper and deeper into love with her. If he stayed, how long would it be until leaving would take more will power than he had?

  Even the best of relationships contained elements of power struggle. If he gave Val all his power, he knew in his bones that she would never be the wife he wanted. They might be friends and lovers and playmates, but not husband and wife. Though Callie and Loren's relationship suited the older couple, it wasn't enough for him.

  After all of the years when marriage hadn't even been on his radar, how come now he would settle for nothing less?

  Chapter 26

  Val drove home on autopilot, grateful the streets were empty because she was too numb to avoid emergencies.

  When she entered her house the cats greeted her, Lilith bouncing while Damocles ambled up, yawning. Not quite intending it, she folded down onto the floor of the entrance hall and gathered the cats to her as she began to weep uncontrollably. With feline intuition, they cuddled against her rather than bolting at her strange behavior.

  Could Rob be right that she avoided any relationship issues that threatened to become too demanding? She had certainly been quick to sweep under the carpet their earlier conflict about living together.

  Though her automatic response both then and tonight was to say it was too soon to talk about long-term commitment, she could no longer deny that she had deep, possibly incurable, emotional hang-ups when it came to romantic relationships. She had finally found a healthy, attractive, highly eligible man whom she cared for deeply, and his proposal tied her into frantic knots.

  If you'd wanted to be married, it would have happened already. The subject of marriage had come up once or twice in earlier relationships, but she hadn't thought of them as serious proposals because the men drank or were unreliable or chronic workaholics. Come to think of it, when marriage was mentioned, she'd reacted with the same kind of panic she was feeling now, but had assumed it was because the men weren't suitable, which gave her a good excuse.

  Rob was different—the sort of man she ought to grab with both hands. Kind, compassionate, funny, smart, supportive, and he lived by his principles even though they had cost him deeply. The lust level was through the roof, she adored his company whether they were working, eating, or just lazing together, and he loved her.

  If she had ever truly loved any man, it was Rob, but it had been easier not to analyze her feelings because she'd been busy, because they'd only been dating for a while, because she hadn't wanted to really look at the situation.

  Wearily she set the cats down and climbed to her feet. She'd feed them, then go to bed. Maybe her brain would be working bett
er in the morning.

  As she opened a can of cat food, her gaze drifted to the kitchen phone. If she wanted Rob back, all she had to do was pick up the handset, dial his number, and tell him that she was ready to consider a serious, long-term, committed relationship. He'd be here in twenty minutes, and they'd be together till death did them part.

  Even in her mind, she didn't like to use the word marriage.

  She drew a shuddering breath. Making a phone call was such a simple thing—yet to save her life, she couldn't do it.

  * * *

  Kendra's telephone rang as she stepped from the shower. Glad she had a phone in the bathroom, she wrapped a bath sheet around herself, shook the mass of narrow braids back over her shoulder, and picked up the handset. "Hello?"

  "Hi, Kendra, it's Al Coleman. What's this great story you have for me?"

  She smiled to herself. From the interest in Al's voice, he was ready to take the bait. Kendra knew his wife, Mary, who used to be a legal secretary at Crouse, Resnick. A1 was smart, tough, and ambitious. Perfect for this purpose. "Hi, Al. Think you can get some front page news out of the fact that the State of Maryland is going to execute an innocent man in just over a week, despite new exculpatory evidence?'

  He whistled softly. "The Monroe execution? Hot stuff, but not much time to act. Have you got proof?"

  "You bet I do. I've got a big fat file, including the videotape of a dying eyewitness as he confesses to perjury, clears Monroe, and names the real killer. Shall we meet for breakfast so I can turn everything over to you?"

  "Can you be at the Bel-Loc Diner in half an hour?" he asked, not bothering to disguise his excitement.

  "See you there." Kendra hung up and patted her braids with a towel to remove any droplets of stray water. Al was right, there wasn't much time, and the Sun wouldn't print a story that hadn't been checked out, but the newspaper must have a hatful of summer interns dying to do something exciting. It was a slow news time of year, so Al should be able to pull this story together fast.