She wrapped her fingers around her mug and sat for a moment. “You’re waiting for me to lecture you about your guilt, aren’t you? You’ve probably been told that your father’s death wasn’t your fault, right? But that doesn’t take away the pain. You feel what you feel, and it shouldn’t be dismissed.”
He considered her words before taking a bite of eggs. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
She tilted her head. “I just know what it’s like when people tell you how you should feel or what you should do about something. Those people almost always have their own interests in mind. I hate to hear you say that you blame yourself for your father’s death, but who am I to tell you that you shouldn’t? That would just be me telling you that your feelings make me uncomfortable and I don’t want to listen anymore.” She blew the steam over the top of her tea. “This may surprise you, but I’ve been told I’m unconventional. I don’t always act the way I should, either.”
She spared a glance from the corner of her eye, and he smiled. “I’ve always been told that I’m painfully boring. Maybe we balance to normal.”
They ate their breakfast in a silence that didn’t feel uncomfortable. The eggs were slightly bland and the bacon was salty, and the coffee had a strong flavor like dark chocolate. Ben devoured everything on his plate, grateful for a companion who didn’t presume to tell him what he should feel about something as complicated as his father’s death.
* * *
Sally was startled when the phone rang. She looked at Ben. “It’s Sunday morning,” she mumbled. “No one calls me on Sunday.” She reached for the phone and frowned at the caller ID. Bedford Hills Police Department. “Hello?”
“Miss Dawson? This is Officer Mark Rutherford from the Bedford Hills P.D. I understand your car windshield was vandalized on Friday, and I wanted you to know we made an arrest.”
Perched on the edge of her seat, she felt as if her heart had overturned and spilled its contents. “An arrest?” she repeated. “Who?”
“Kid by the name of James Kruger. You know him?”
She slumped, bringing her head down to rest on her hand. Ben was watching her, but she didn’t want to explain. “Yes, I know him. Did he confess?”
“We asked around and got an ID from a witness who saw him throw the bat away in the park. Wit saw his license plate. We made the arrest this morning. We’re holding him downtown. Thought you might want to talk to him.”
James Kruger had smashed her windshield. She grappled with the news. Poor, misguided James. What did he think he was doing?
“Ma’am? You still there?”
She exhaled. “Yes. Still here. Look, did he say why he did it? Give any indication? It’s just that I know him, and this doesn’t seem like something he would do.”
Now Ben had turned toward her, wrapping one muscular arm across the back of her stool. He dipped his head to study her, but she stared straight down at the countertop, avoiding his gaze. He was close, and right now it felt too close.
“He didn’t say anything,” the officer continued. “But he did seem concerned that you would find out. I wanted to confirm that you knew each other and that we weren’t dealing with a potential stalker situation.”
A shiver ran down her back at the suggestion that James Kruger might be stalking her. She was certain she would notice something like that. She knew him and his car, so wouldn’t it be virtually impossible for him to watch her, hidden from view? “I don’t think so,” she concluded. “He was going to testify in a case I was supposed to bring. That’s how we know each other. He’s a good kid. I think he just made a bad decision.”
“He resisted arrest, took a swing at an officer.”
Sally groaned. This just kept getting worse.
“Bail hearings won’t be until tomorrow, so he’ll be locked up until then,” the officer continued. “You’re welcome to come down and scare him a little.”
She tugged at her earlobe. She hadn’t removed her earrings last night, and she twisted the diamond between her fingers. Maybe she would speak with him. Then again, maybe she should steer clear of James and take this as a sign that her impression of him was askew. He was more than troubled. He was a potential threat to her safety. “I’ll think about it. Thanks for all the information, Officer. I appreciate it.”
“You got it.”
She hung up the phone and set it back on the countertop. Then she pushed a forkful of eggs around her plate and took a bite. They were cold already. Besides, she felt a little nauseous, as if the little life she carried was starting to assert itself.
“Are you going to tell me what happened just now?” Ben leaned closer, resting his forearm on the countertop so that his arms practically encircled her. He had no right to take such a possessive posture. They’d spent the night together, but last time she’d checked, they hadn’t been the ones getting married yesterday.
She leaned slightly away. “The police arrested James Kruger for smashing my windshield,” she said, her voice soft and constrained. “That’s all.”
“Huh.” Ben sat back and took a sip of his coffee. “Call it a hunch, but I thought that kid was up to no good.”
Her gaze darted to him. “Oh, really? Based on what? The stains on his clothes? His piercings?”
She’d known James for almost a year, and in that time she’d witnessed him traverse hell. His mother was presumed dead, murdered by his father, and James had been brave enough to testify for the prosecution. That meant he’d been homeless, orphaned, for all intents and purposes. Then his mother had suddenly come back to life, and whether she was guilty of some conspiracy or worse, he’d realized only last week that everything he’d come to believe was wrong. He was a confused teenager who’d made a terrible mistake when he’d attacked her car, and Ben didn’t know the first thing about it.
“Calm down.” Ben lowered his mug to the counter. “The kid made a threat against you. I know you feel protective over him for some reason, but I’m telling you, he’s got problems.”
She fumed silently. “You wouldn’t know the first thing about his problems. He’s in a holding cell. I think I’m going to go down to talk to him this morning.”
“That’s foolish,” Ben grumbled as he took another gulp of coffee.
“Oh, really? Foolish?” Something danced up the back of her spine. Was he actually trying to control her? “Last time I checked, I’m a grown woman. I sure as hell don’t need you approving my every move.”
“Suit yourself.” His tone had taken on a frostbitten edge. “The kid has directed a lot of anger toward you. By all means, you should go spend the afternoon with him in jail. Maybe invite him to dinner.”
She grabbed her plate, still piled with cold eggs, along with her fork and mug, and marched to the sink. “You have no idea what he’s been through. And you’re one to be judgmental.” She scraped the eggs into the trash and spun around to face him.
Now Ben was frozen in place, waiting for her to elaborate. His eyes had narrowed and taken on a dangerously dark appearance. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m one to be judgmental?”
She knew she was walking down a dangerous path, but it was too late to stop now. Even if she could, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. How dare he come into her house, as nothing more than a casual fling, and ask her who she’d been talking to on the phone? How dare he walk into the kitchen and tell her about his father’s death and compliment her cooking? How dare he treat this as anything more significant than what it was: A one-night stand? Two lonely people who got a little carried away and took comfort in the wrong way. How dare he string her along?
Sally prided herself on keeping an open mind, but she knew one thing for sure—she was not girlfriend material, and Ben was not boyfriend material. Last night meant less than nothing to her. The only man in her life was Mr. X. No more betrayal, no more dis
appointments and no more relinquishing part of herself to be more desirable to someone else. She’d decided months ago that it was time to be unapologetically herself, flaws and all. No more boyfriends or fiancés who could pretend to love her and then walk away. No more.
“Yes,” she replied in a dangerous voice. “You’re one to be judgmental. Who are you to stand in judgment of a young man—a teenager—who just learned that his father didn’t murder his mother? I don’t know why James did what he did, but I’m not prepared to pronounce him a bad person, or to say that he’s clearly up to no good.” She placed her hands on her hips, daring Ben to defy her. “You, Ben. You, who’ve made some giant mistakes in your life. Who are you to judge him?”
He didn’t flinch. He didn’t move at all. She wished he would stop staring at her in shocked silence. She was being rotten. He’d confided in her, and she’d turned around and used his confessions as weapons. Her words sounded like a betrayal even to her own ears, but there was nothing she could do to take it back.
He looked down, as if something fascinating had materialized on his plate. She heard him exhale. “I think you should be careful who you trust, that’s all.”
“I didn’t invite you here to give me lessons on interpersonal relationships,” she said. “But since we’re both sharing, you should know that I think last night was a mistake.”
He sat in stunned silence, and her heart beat painfully in her chest. Then he rose and left the kitchen, leaving his dirty plate behind.
Sally crossed her arms and leaned against the sink, listening as he moved around the bedroom. A part of her wanted to extend the olive branch, run in and apologize for overreacting. Salvage the past two weeks with Ben and try to make something good come out of the past twenty-four hours. The rest of her knew that this was the right thing, to let him be angry as hell with her and walk out the door. They shared a misguided physical chemistry, that’s all. Besides, they worked together. They should have thought harder about keeping their relationship professional, and she’d rather err on the side of hating each others’ guts than getting too friendly. Hating each other was easy. Attraction was complicated.
He came back into the kitchen wearing the jeans and Columbia Law sweatshirt he’d found in his car the night before. He didn’t just look angry; his face had assumed a mask of absolute fury, and he paused in the kitchen doorway, clutching the ball of clothing that comprised his tuxedo, and jingling his keys in his hand. He spared her a sharp smile that ripped through her. No doubt that was his intention. “Thanks for everything, Sally,” he said. “You’ve always been a good lay.”
Her body went rigid, her muscles contracting in a painful, white-hot rage as she watched him walk calmly out the door. She listened as he started his car and backed down her driveway, waiting until he was out of earshot before sliding to the kitchen floor and sobbing.
Chapter 11
A cold front had rolled in overnight, and the bright afternoon sun did little to soften the brusque air that swept across Sally’s bare neck. She pulled her coat tighter around her frame. She’d been raised in a family of skiers, but if she had her way, she’d flee the Northeast after the leaves turned, and stay far, far away until spring. This was the time of year when her fingertips frosted over and her nose turned pink, and she found herself thinking bitter, self-pitying thoughts as she approached the police station.
A good lay. Was that all she was to him, even now? The cruelty of that pronouncement stung her. Here she was, about to be a mother, and she’d gone and lost her head over Ben McNamara. Again. She pressed her palm protectively against her abdomen. She was going to have to be better than this. More mature, more responsible. She was supposed to be moving past men and the pain of relationships, insulating herself from heartache. Yet now she felt that old familiar twinge in her chest. Worst of all? She’d have to face him in the morning. At work.
How mortifying.
Sally pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. She’d become involved with Ben again, and heartache was inevitable. She knew his type, and she knew him. Better to take her medicine, feel all the pain at once and move on with her life. One thing she now knew for sure: she wanted something lasting. The fleeting connection she’d felt with Ben last night, the intimacy of pizza in bed and meaningful conversation, made her long for permanency. She might never find a man who fulfilled that need in her, but that didn’t mean her life was destined to be empty. Having a child, someone she could care for and love without fear of rejection, would go a long way toward making her feel as if her life was full.
Maybe Ben was right about James, she thought as she filled out visitor paperwork at the police station. God knows she was awfully good at picking the wrong men, the ones who hurt her and used her and failed to value her for who she was. But something in her told her that he was wrong. James had something different about him, that essence of someone who’d always had trouble fitting in.
Sally was aware of the many privileges she’d had growing up: loving parents, a big house and minimal cares about money. She’d chosen a profession based on a desire to make a difference, not a need to make money. She was fortunate in so many ways, and yet part of her understood what it felt like to be misunderstood. She’d heard the whispers that had followed her through school, replete with implications that she’d bought her way in. The blessings in her life had been cause for others to judge her as unworthy of her achievements, and she’d spent her entire professional life trying to prove herself not only competent, but exemplary.
Still, she couldn’t afford to misplace her sympathies with James. Hadn’t she done exactly that last night with Ben, and allowed her heart to guide her head? And wasn’t she paying for it now?
Her temples were pounding with the pressure of too many rapid-fire thoughts. Yes, she was paying for her transgression. She was paying dearly.
“Counselor. Nice to meet you.” The man who held out his hand stood over six feet tall and carried the air of someone all-American. Maybe it was the blue eyes and blond hair, or the fact that he could have just walked off a college football field. Rutherford, she read on his tag. He looked as young as he’d sounded on the phone. Cops were getting younger and younger. “I’m guessing you’re here to speak with our mutual friend?”
“James Kruger, yes,” she answered, still feeling oddly protective of James. She’d known lots of people who were in jail—it was part of the job description—but she’d never actually cared about any of them on a personal level. Now, as they walked through the station to the holding cell, she noticed the smells of body odor and fluids. Some of these people had been locked up since brawling in a bar on Friday night, and they wouldn’t get to shower before the bail hearing tomorrow. She’d learned long ago to chew mints in court on Monday morning to mask the odor, but to think that James was locked up here, unable to escape it...
She gritted her teeth. She was being too soft on him. The punk had broken her windshield.
Officer Rutherford opened an interrogation room and invited her to take a seat. Sally pulled out the cold chair and obliged. The table looked dirty. Best not to think about the kinds of things that went on in this room, or the sweat and tears that had been spilled on the Formica. Her nose wrinkled. Honestly, did no one clean this place? A little bleach would go a long way.
Footsteps fell in the hall outside the doorway. She lifted her chin, preparing to stare James down and make him sorry he’d ever messed with her. Then she saw him. A purple welt was starting to swell beneath his left eye, and his black sweatshirt was torn at the collar. Officer Rutherford had cuffed him, and he looked gangly and harmless, like a pathetic scarecrow. Sally sucked in a breath. “My God, James. What happened to you?”
He eyed her warily. “Some guy sucker punched me.”
Officer Rutherford, gripping him by the shoulders, steered the kid toward the second chair and then pushed him into it. “Come on, Ji
mmy. Sucker punch? You’ve been picking fights right and left today. First with us, then with your roommates.”
“I didn’t do anything to him,” he mumbled through clenched teeth, before looking imploringly at Sally. “I swear, he just hit me.”
She swallowed, suddenly uneasy with her mission. She’d been set to give him a piece of her mind, and now the poor kid was getting punched by men who were probably twice his size. “Don’t you have someone watching the cell? Shouldn’t they prevent this kind of thing?”
Rutherford gave her a half smirk, as if he found her question adorable. She ground her fingernails into her palms, fighting the urge to give this condescending officer a piece of her mind. “Fifteen minutes,” he said, more to James than to her. “I’ll be watching the whole time.” That last part was directed to Sally.
She nodded. “Our conversation will be private, I hope.”
“Whatever.” The young officer shrugged and walked out the door. James Kruger was small-time. She doubted the police would take any interest in a single word of their discussion.
As the metal door clicked shut, Sally released a sigh and directed her best disappointed face to the youth in front of her. He avoided eye contact, preferring to stare at a spot on the table. “You know,” he mumbled.
“Of course I know, James. Why do you think I’m here?” She brought her fists to the table. “You broke my windshield. I thought we had a good relationship. I never thought you’d...violate my trust like that.”
He swallowed hard and looked as if he was about to cry. He brought his handcuffed hands up to rub at his eyes, which were turning red at the edges. “I’m really sorry, Attorney Dawson,” he sputtered.
Her shoulders slumped. She couldn’t very well continue the disappointed-teacher routine now, when the kid looked like he was on the verge of sobbing. “Fine. Okay. You’re sorry. But why in the world would it cross your mind to do something like this in the first place? What did I do to you, James?”
The Burden of Desire Page 16
