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Just as Riley had known he would, Shawn came practically running inside as soon as he pulled up. The damage to Lorna’s car was significant enough that anyone who saw it could be forgiven for thinking there were at least minor injuries involved. But really, all that had happened was that she’d somehow missed one of those fire hydrant sized barriers in the parking lot at the restaurant. Tiny had even had to pull some of the dent out near the wheel well just so they could drive home. As Shawn came hurrying in, he found her with Tiny sitting at the kitchen counter watching television, take-out containers and plates nearby. His eyes scanned her from head to toe, doing a quick inventory.
“I’m fine,” Riley said, reading the worry on his face.
Shawn turned to Tiny, his face hard, eyes narrowed.
“Calm down.” She got up and went toward him with arms outstretched. “I was a little careless that’s all.”
Shawn put an arm round her and eyes still on Tiny, asked, “Why were you driving?”
“Because I’m an adult with a valid driver’s license and should be able to drive if I want to. Even if I’m no good at it,” she added to lighten the mood.
Shawn looked down at her and seemed to decide not to make an issue of it. For now.
“We got Italian,” Riley said in a transparent effort to change the subject. “Seafood ravioli and penne with sundried tomatoes.”
“I’ll take care of the damage,” Shawn said to Lorna.
“Excuse me,” Riley interjected. “I’ll take care of the damage. You aren’t responsible for my mistakes, Shawn.”
“Fine. You take care of the damage.” He tried to sound casual about it, but as was always the case, she could tell he disliked her resistance to him taking care of her.
Lorna was watching their exchange, her face inscrutable. She was clearly studying them, assessing their relationship, forming impressions. Riley was curious to know what she was thinking even more now that she had spent so much time with Shawn, first on that ill-conceived trip out the other night, and now on the rides to and from the city.
Knowing her mother, she had asked Shawn every inappropriate question conceivable. But Shawn’s body language around Lorna was much more personal and at ease. God, if they could be friends, it would be so much more than she’d ever hoped possible, especially given what was happening right now.
She hung around while Shawn ate, barely listening as he and her mother talked about the meeting with the lawyers. All she heard sifted in with the fog that was her mind lately were the words “grand jury” and “testify” and “return an indictment.” None of it was good, so she chose not to allow it to penetrate.
She vacillated between two very distinct phases; one was sheer terror when she thought about what might happen if Shawn were actually convicted and it made her unable to stand even brief separations like his trip to the city this morning. The other phase was anger, at him for having gotten into this fix and at Keisha who was lying through her teeth for reasons that only she could understand. In her anger phase, she wanted to get as far away as possible, and only through sheer willpower was able to be in Shawn’s company and let him touch, and hold and kiss her.
Everything they were—as much as they were to each other—would be inalterably changed if he went to prison. And it would be all his fault.
“So how’d it happen?” Shawn asked as he bit into a piece of ravioli.
She almost didn’t know what he was talking about, coming as it had out of left field. For the last twenty minutes, all anyone had been talking about was the trial.
“Are you back to the accident?” she asked wearily.
“Yeah, I’m back to the accident.”
“I made a wide turn and didn’t see the parking barrier. I wasn’t chased through town by paparazzi if that’s what you’re imagining.”
“I just think you shouldn’t be driving yourself right now, that’s all.”
“And I just think that’s ridiculous,” she returned.
Well it was good to know they could still manage to bicker about meaningless crap when their very life together was under threat by something about as far from meaningless as you could get.
“It won’t happen again,” Tiny chimed in. “I should’ve been on top of it, man.”
Shawn looked at him. ”Damn right.”
“Are you done eating?” Riley asked. “I thought you might want to walk with me.”
They took a route that Riley was very familiar with. When she was a senior at the college and living at home once again, she was dating a TA named Stephen. Or at least she thought she was. He had strange hours which he insisted meant that she could only see him at night in one of the academic buildings while he graded papers. She would meet him there, walking over to campus from home under cover of night, wound up like a top by all the intrigue. Once in awhile he took her to a pub or to his apartment. Her memories of their relationship were of sex in strange places—a professor’s office, a friend’s apartment, his car—and secrecy. Always the secrecy.
He told her he was worried about his job and his scholarship if anyone found out they were together. She later found out that the reason for all the secrecy was named Sara, and she was a twenty-three year old who was getting her Masters in French Classics or some equally useless thing. Sara and Stephen lived together in the small, off-campus apartment that he’d only once taken Riley to. She didn’t tell Shawn this story as they walked. He wouldn’t find it nearly as amusing as she now did.
At first, they didn’t speak but simply enjoyed the crisp air and the sound of the fall leaves crunching beneath their feet. Riley looped an arm through his and leaned into him as they walked. They had a lot to talk about, but for once she was reluctant to break the silence. And Shawn wasn’t broodingly silent, but in a state of quiet contentment. She remembered what he’d told her that first night when he’d come back after his tour; that she gave him peace. Even hearing him say ‘I love you’ had not moved her as much. To know that she could still give that to him right now, in the midst of everything was deeply gratifying.
“Did you look at the file?” he asked suddenly.
Now that was a mood killer.
“No,” she said.
The file he’d handed her in the car on the ride up was under a pile of clothes she no longer wore, in the dresser in the bedroom so there could be no chance of her running across it by accident. She didn’t want to look at the manila folder, let alone the contents.
“There’s stuff in there for you to sign. Once you’ve read it, we’ll go to Doug’s and get it done.”
“There’s plenty of time for that,” she mumbled.
She held her breath, waiting, but he didn’t press the issue. They stopped in the park near the town center and sat under a spruce. Riley sat next to him, her legs stretched before her, leaning back on her arms and enjoying the feeling of sunshine on her face.
Plenty of time. That was what she hoped.
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Chapter Twenty
Three black SUVs with darkly tinted windows pulled up before dawn; one driven by Brendan, the other two occupied by members of Chris Scaife’s security team and the lawyers. Everyone in the house had been up very early. Today Shawn was testifying before the grand jury and Doug and Robyn would not be allowed to give him active assistance while in the grand jury room so they’d arrived at four a.m. to confer with him. After the strategy meeting, everyone had congregated in the kitchen drinking coffee while Shawn got dressed.
Finally, he emerged in a charcoal grey suit, pin-striped and cut like that of a Wall Street broker. Underneath he wore a crisp white shirt and a Kelly green tie. He’d gotten a haircut the day before, shaved so low it was almost bald. Lorna was going with him but as planned, Riley was staying put. Tracy was there to help her guard against insanity while she waited for their return and of course, Tiny was staying behind.
Riley watched as Lorna straightened Shawn’s tie. Not only had Shawn seemed to develop a new appreciati
on of their bucolic upstate lifestyle, but her mother and husband had developed an unlikely friendship. She often woke up late at night to the low hum of their voices as they talked in the garden, sitting beneath the tree just below the bedroom window. Whatever understanding they had arrived at, or partnership they’d forged, she felt no particular inclination to intrude; she was simply grateful that the two most important people in her life had become important to each other as well.
Today, even Lorna looked somber. She had pulled her hair back into a chaste knot at the base of her neck and put on a dark blue suit that Riley had never seen before.
Riley gripped the coffee cup in front of her, trying hard not to betray her nervousness. Next to her, Tracy sipped her tea, glancing occasionally at the television. The volume was turned way down, but they were all watching the weather. An early snowstorm was threatening the tri-state area and if it hit, as much as three inches was likely.
“Let’s get going,” Brendan said, finally.
Everyone began heading for the front door but Riley lingered behind. When Shawn looked over his shoulder and saw that she hadn’t moved, his eyes softened and he came toward her. She attempted a smile, but could feel from the unnatural stiffness of her lips that she was unsuccessful. Shawn didn’t speak but simply pressed his forehead to hers for a moment. Their eyes met and this time she managed a real smile. He brushed a finger across her nose then turned and left.
Riley waited a moment before going out to join Tracy at the front door and by the time she got there, the cars were pulling away. She’d gotten the overview from Doug about the grand jury process, and knew that nothing particularly momentous was likely to happen, but it was difficult not to be apprehensive anyway.
“I wish I could go back to sleep,” she said quietly. “And when I woke up and he would be home.”
“Take something,” Tracy suggested as they shut the door and headed back to the kitchen.
“Like what?”
“Melatonin?”
“Or a fifth of gin,” Riley said dryly.
“No alcohol. You have to look good for your photo shoot tomorrow, remember?”
Riley rolled her eyes. “I forgot about that. And don’t forget the interview. Really looking forward to that.”
“But he’s a friendly, right? And there’ll be none of the Barbara Walters crap, like trying to make you cry?”
“Supposedly. But I can’t imagine having a comfortable conversation about infidelity, a rape charge and Shawn. So it’s basically going to be like getting my teeth pulled, no matter how you look at it.”
Tracy sighed. “Of course. I’ll be there to hold your hand, if that helps.”
“It does. Thank you.”
“Stop. This is what we do. Don’t even mention it, okay?”
“Okay.”
They went for a run to kill time, circling the campus and stopping by their old dorm to reminisce. It was a massive brownstone that had once housed Franciscan nuns. As Riley remembered it, the rooms were small and drafty, smelling like old wood and furniture polish. In the summer of their sophomore year, she and Tracy had stayed on campus, working with the housekeeping crew to clean and disinfect dorm rooms and common areas. They’d been woken up every morning at six a.m. and worked until two p.m. Although it was hard work, they were done early and had the entire day before them. They’d spent the whole summer dating unsuitable boys and making impromptu trips to Manhattan to enjoy the nightlife.
That was the summer Riley had experimented with ecstasy and weed, drank so much she threw up and once wound up broke, stranded and alone in the West Village. She had panhandled at the subway to get enough change for a phone call and then reached Lorna at home to come get her. She’d waited for three hours before finally spotting her mother’s familiar old car, at that time a VW Beetle. The only thing Lorna asked was whether she was okay and the incident was never mentioned again.
“Should we go in?” Tracy asked, looking up at the dorm. “We could visit our old room.”
“You think they’d let us in?”
“Maybe.”
Riley thought for a moment. “Let’s not. I kinda like what I remember. If I go in there and see a Britney Spears poster I might puke.”
“Or you might see a K-Smooth poster,” Tracy winked.
Riley laughed. “Yeah, you’re right about that.”
They turned and headed back the way they came. It was beginning to snow just as they returned to the house. Tiny was waiting for them as they entered and he looked none too pleased.
“Oh crap,” Riley said. “I totally forgot to let you know we were leaving.”
“You must want to get me fired,” he said.
“Of course not. Sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Tiny turned and walked out of the room and Riley made a face at Tracy.
“Oops.”
Tracy laughed. “And that’s no joke either. Shawn would have his ass fired. Between that and the little fender bender you had, I’d say you’re messing up Tiny’s record as a body man.”
“I’m not used to this stuff,” Riley said. “I mean, what the hell do I need a bodyguard for? Maybe I can take him out to breakfast as a peace offering or something.”
“Or maybe you should just take a shower and sit still for the rest of the day.”
“Good idea.”
There was almost nothing of note all day. MTV reported briefly in the morning that the grand jury had been seated and around noon they showed stock footage from the courthouse, but no shots of Shawn. By four o’clock, Riley had given up hope of hearing anything when Lorna finally called.
“He’s been in there for about three and half hours,” she reported.
“Can you tell how it’s going?”
“No idea. But he was strong going in. Looked confident. Sounded determined.”
“God, I just want this all to be over.”
“It will be. In due course.”
“Thank you,” Riley said. “For being with him.”
Lorna made an impatient sound.
“You’re amazing. That’s all I’m saying.”
“It’s looking like we’ll be back late,” Lorna said ignoring her last comment. “But I’ll have Shawn call you as soon as he gets out.”
She, Tracy and Tiny played spades and later on Monopoly for the rest of the day. It was dark by the time they grew tired of games and decided to check the news. There was a ten-second clip of Shawn leaving the courthouse that caused Riley to sit forward in her chair. His jaw was rigid and he kept his gaze averted from the cameras as he pushed past what looked like a fairly large crowd of press.
Brendan walked ahead of him and Lorna was at his side, her arm looped through his. The reporter noted her presence in his report, and predicted that the grand jury proceedings would continue for several more weeks. Riley slumped at that estimate.
“Let’s check MTV,” Tracy suggested, so they changed the station and waited through three videos before a newsflash informed them that the “accuser” had testified today as well, but for a much shorter period of time than expected.
“What does that mean?” Riley looked at Tiny.
He shrugged.
“Who knows what any of it means,” Tracy said.
Outside the snow was really coming down now and they could hear the utility trucks dropping salt. Every engine caused Riley to look worriedly out the bay window, hoping to see one or all of the SUVs.
“It has to be hellish trying to get out of the city in this weather,” Tracy consoled her. “I’m sure they’ll be here anytime.”
“I’m going to take another shower,” Riley said. “I can’t stand this anymore.”
She took her time, and even after she was thoroughly clean, stood under the water and allowed it to course over her, focusing on the sound of it, trying to empty her mind. She already knew that Shawn hadn’t called because he was in that place; that place in his own head where he sometimes went to block out everyone and everything. Even her. He
went there when he was angry, when he had a problem he wanted to solve without outside interference, and when he was uncertain. Today, he was likely all three of those things.
Riley hoped Doug and Robyn weren’t coming back with him. If only she could cocoon him from it all—take him someplace where it was just the two of them, quiet, safe and far away. In the last two weeks, as this date drew closer, he’d pulled further and further into himself, talking less, spending more time alone, and going for walks that he didn’t always invite her on.
She found out, almost by accident, that he’d created an inter vivos trust, into which he’d put almost all his assets and made her the beneficiary. She discovered this only when an innocuous looking letter had been handed to her by Brendan among the other pieces of mail he’d retrieved for them from the condo. She read it but didn’t comment although she saw Shawn take note of her expression. It lay there between them—the knowledge that he had entrusted everything he owned, everything he had ever worked for, into her hands. She didn’t know how to even begin to discuss something so huge and at least for now, he seemed okay with indulging her denial.
Stepping out of the shower, Riley immediately heard the voices and activity downstairs. In her eagerness, she almost headed down there naked, but finally hastily pulled on her robe and padded down to the kitchen, still dripping wet.
Shawn, Lorna and Brendan were there, sitting with Tiny and Tracy. Shawn looked up when she entered, taking in her wet hair and the puddle of water beginning to form at her feet. His smile was barely perceptible, and he looked dog-tired. He turned away from the breakfast bar and inclined his head, beckoning her over. Riley went to him and he wrapped his arms about her, and pressed his bowed head against her stomach. She felt the tension of the day leave her, and sighed, placing a hand atop his head. Around them, everyone else continued their conversation, discreetly pretending not to notice the intimate moment.
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Shawn watched as Riley dug enthusiastically into her plate of Chinese take-out. He hadn’t been called back to the grand jury for a second day of testimony, even though it was a likelihood that he would have to go back at some point. His wife’s good mood persisted even though they were waiting for Darnell and a team of stylists to show up. The next couple of hours would be occupied with getting ready for her friend Dawn to shoot the photos that would accompany the story. Shawn still wasn’t crazy about Tracy but having her around had really made a difference. Right now as she sat with Riley, jabbering on about some movie they’d seen on television the night before, he was more grateful than ever that she’d taken an entire week off work just to be there.
Commitment Page 49
