"Definitely. But you said it was worth it if something really needed to be secret."
Like Donna's feelings about her husband's affair? "I actually have a business card with numbers on it. Maybe I need to check my computer for matching dates or numbers."
"Sounds good. I hope you figure it out. Good luck, Kadonna."
"Thanks. It'll be great seeing you in June."
"Ditto. And I'll bring the rubber snake."
"Charming. Go to sleep, loser."
We laugh and end the call, and I spend the next half hour trying to find files in my computer that match the 14-73-13 written on my business card. Since that can't be a date, I don't get very far, but I keep trying everything I can think of until my home phone makes an odd double ring.
"Hello?"
"Kate, it's me. Can I come up?"
Jake. "Sure."
When I open my apartment door, he gives me a sheepish smile. "Room in there for one jerk?"
I glance over my shoulder. "Should be. Why, does one want to come in?"
"Yup. I'm sorry about earlier."
I step out of the way and close the door once he's inside. "It's okay."
He sinks onto my couch. "I just worry about you, you know?"
I sit next to him. "I know. And it's sweet. I don't think Ryan's a bad guy, though."
Jake nods. "Are you still wondering if he did something that made you want to run away?"
The affair certainly could have done that, but I don't think telling Jake that Ryan cheated on me will do anything good. "A bit, yeah. But so far I don't see it." I don't like lying to Jake but I also don't want to tell him the truth. It does sound like Donna forgave Ryan for the affair, and if that's the case it's probably not what made her leave.
He nods again, and we sit in silence for a while. Then he says, "Can we still be friends?"
I turn to face him. "I hope so. You've been so good to me."
He tries to brush this off but I won't let him. "Jake, I'd have been on the street, or molested in the back of the bar, if you hadn't taken care of me. And then you let me live with you for weeks, paid for everything--"
"Don't start with that again," he says, smiling.
"But it's true. And even your comments about Ryan come from taking care of me. Yes, we can be friends. I'd hate it if we weren't."
Our eyes meet and a slow sensuous shimmer flows through me. We were more than friends for a few blissful hours, and that connection is clearly still present.
Again I realize that I do not have to go back to Ryan just because he's my husband. There's a fire between Jake and me that I have not felt with Ryan. Maybe his affair killed my, Donna's, passion for him. Who knows? But I do know that I could kiss Jake right now and enjoy every second. I haven't felt that longing for Ryan.
Jake reaches out and touches my cheek, his eyes intense. "If you ever decide you don't want to be with him, I hope you'll call me."
My lips part as I look for an answer, and the way his eyes snap to them makes me shiver. "I will," I whisper. I definitely will.
He holds my gaze for a moment longer then draws back and says, "Well, anyhow. I actually came over to apologize and to see if there's anything I can do for you."
"Apology accepted, and maybe. I need to get into this Bubbly Words game. Turns out it's got a secret area in it."
He nods. "Have you checked their web site?"
I frown, confused, and he says, "I guess not. They'll have a support web site. Can I use your laptop?"
I grab it for him at once, and watch as he searches for and finds the web site. I'm glad he's doing it for me, since my hands are shaking. This could be it. I could be reading Donna's secrets in moments.
Or not.
"There are nearly one hundred ways to lock Bubbly Words' secret area," Jake reads from the screen. "You can use up to three of them at once, for a total of over one hundred and fifty thousand possible combinations."
My heart sinks. "That's kind of a lot."
He nods. "Maybe they have a way to recover lost codes." He clicks another link then studies the screen. "Crud. Nope."
"None at all?"
Again reading, he says, "To protect the security of the information you've entered, there is no way to recover a lost lock sequence, and to ensure that others cannot try to hack into your secure area we do not even list the various lock components on our site and our support staff will not give you that information either. The only way to use Bubbly Words if you have forgotten your sequence is to uninstall and reinstall it, but doing this will irrevocably erase the secure area."
I drop my head back against the couch. "Damn it."
"Yes?"
I look at him, then remember calling him that and have to smile. He smiles back and says, "I agree with the sentiment, though. I don't think we'll be cracking into this thing. You're going to have to figure out what she used for the lock code, and I can't see how you'll do that."
A little hope seeps to the top of my despair. "I have an idea."
I explain what Ethan told me about the code stuff, and Jake and I sit before my computer for an hour or so trying every possible combination of the numbers from my business card we can think of.
Eventually we have to admit defeat, and he says he should probably get home. At the door, he says, "Do you want to have lunch tomorrow?"
I do. But I probably shouldn't. But... "That'd be nice."
He smiles. "Is it okay with you if we don't go to Starbucks?"
I laugh. "Still think it's too pretentious for you?"
He gives me a wink and I roll my eyes and punch his arm.
"How about Setherwood Cafe at twelve-thirty?"
"Perfect," I say. "And I'm paying this time." Ryan assured me I should use my credit cards for anything I want and need. And I want to see Jake and need to pay for lunch to compensate him at least a little for all he's done for me.
He winks again. "We'll see."
"No, we won't. Hey, keep thinking about the code thing, okay? I'd love to get it figured out."
"I'll keep thinking about it."
Our eyes meet again, and he says, in a completely different tone, "I'll think about all of it."
Yeah, me too.
Chapter Nineteen
Ryan emails me once or twice a day over the next few days. No pressure in his notes, no 'have you remembered yet?'. They're chatty and friendly, hoping I had a fun talk with Ethan and asking if I've been back to Starbucks and wondering whether my latest session with Doctor Ferraro went well. He tells me about the weather in Ottawa, about a funny comment someone made in a meeting at work, and about a novel he's just read that he thinks I might like.
The one thing he never does, though, is mention Jake.
Jake doesn't mention him either, not when we have lunch on Monday or when we go to a movie with Hannah Tuesday night or when we spend Wednesday afternoon putting together a plan to sell his sculptures. We talk about everything else, but not Ryan, and I have so much fun with him, both when we're laughing and when the sexual tension rises between us, that I don't mind. Ryan is a great guy, from what I can tell, but Jake is far more fun and easy-going, and there's a big part of me that likes that.
I also like how we work together on Wednesday. Jake obviously respects my knowledge, the business skills I still have even though I have no recollection of actually obtaining them, and he listens when I talk and makes sure that the plan we're building fits with everything I say and flat-out says at one point, "I think it should be the other way but you're smarter than me so we'll go your way."
"Jake! I am not."
He raises his eyebrows. "Oh, trust me, you are. I wouldn't be able to do any of this without you."
"Then it's good I'm here, isn't it?" I say, knowing full well he'll say it is and we'll have another of those sexy eye contact moments.
He does, and we do, and though I'm married and know I shouldn't I like it.
Once the plan is finished, Jake and I go clothes shopping to find him some class
y but artsy clothes to wear when he goes to art galleries to offer his sculptures. Though I didn't want to, I did suggest he should take Hannah with him but he just smiled and said, "I'd rather have you," and I was too happy to say anything else. Watching him show off various outfits is a great way to spend an evening, although when I move my right hand and my engagement ring shoots off sparklers in the bright store lights I feel guilty. Not guilty enough to leave Jake alone, though.
I'm just being friendly, I tell myself. Friendly and helpful. But I know better.
We work on the plan again on Thursday, then Jake spends Friday visiting art galleries around Toronto and I spend part of my morning at Doctor Ferraro's office and the rest of the day working on Bubbly Words. I haven't made any progress at unlocking the secret area, but I can't give up. The key to my life might be locked in there.
Ryan's going to pick me up for dinner tonight at eight, and he'll ask how my therapy session went but I don't know what to say. Today's session was nearly all about Jake, about how I like him and know him better than Ryan and how part of me wants to stay with him.
Ryan is a professional, strong and powerful. Jake is far more scattered, but so far he's also far more fun, and I have a much stronger physical connection with him. Besides, there's the undeniable fact that Donna ran away from Ryan. I'm not at all sure she'd want to go back.
According to Doctor Ferraro, Donna's memories are almost certainly still inside me. "The reason ECT patients forget the time around the treatments is that those memories aren't stored because of the brain disruption. But your long-term memories were stored years before the treatments. The files are still there. What you've lost is the way to access those files."
Just like with Bubbly Words. I need to access my files, one way or the other, so I know why Donna left and whether I should go back and resume her life.
My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts.
"Hey, Jake, what's--"
"You're awesome, Kate. I sold one!"
"What? You were just trying to get them to look!"
"Well, they looked. Third gallery took me on as a client, and when the owner saw the last piece in my portfolio he bought it on the spot. He sent a truck over to bring the rest of my pieces into the gallery, and he's going to do a show for me in a few weeks."
"I'm so happy for you. That's wonderful."
"No, you are. I've thought about selling for years and in a few weeks you got me organized and able to do it. I can't thank you enough. Can I take you out for dinner to celebrate?"
I wince. "I wish I could, but I can't tonight. Maybe next week?"
He pauses then says, "Oh, right. You have company this weekend."
"I do. I'm sorry. I'd love to go out with you tonight."
My words surprise me, but as they come out I realize they're true, and it actually goes deeper than that.
I think I would rather be with Jake than with my husband.
*****
Once Ryan and I are seated at the restaurant, though, I remember how concerned he was about me and how honest and open he's been about what went wrong with our marriage, and I find myself happier than I'd have expected to be with him. I wonder how I'll feel about him by the end of this weekend.
Ryan smiles and raises his glass of ginger ale in a toast. Doctor Ferraro said I shouldn't drink because alcohol is a depressant so Ryan's decided not to drink either. "To another great weekend together."
I smile back and we clink glasses, but there's something strange in his tone. He sounds almost nervous, and like he's trying too hard to lighten the mood.
He does ask about my therapy session, and I tell him what the doctor said about memory storage but nothing about what we discussed, and he doesn't push me. We talk for a bit about what we'll do with the weekend, then about some photo albums he brought for my perusal and a bag of clothes he collected from my closet 'at home' and the play he hopes I'd like to attend, but his tone doesn't improve and eventually I have to ask, "Is something wrong?"
He frowns. "Why? Do I seem upset?"
I look into his eyes and see it there too. "You do. And since you didn't deny it, I assume you are upset. What's going on?"
He sips his ginger ale, taking his time, and I sit wondering exactly what he's going to say and how I'm going to handle it. I don't expect, though, what he does say.
"How well do you know Jake?"
I lean back in my chair. "We talked about this last weekend. I didn't sleep with him but--"
He shakes his head. "I meant what you know about his past. Has he told you anything?"
"Sure. Where he grew up, that he doesn't have brothers or sisters, when he started sculpting. Why?"
Ryan sighs. "No reason."
"Yeah, right."
He rubs his forehead. "You're not going to like this."
"Then don't tell me."
He looks up, surprised.
I was kidding but now I realize I meant it. "I've had quite enough of weird situations and things I don't like in the last few months, don't you think? If I don't need to know, keep it to yourself."
He's staring at me but I can tell he's not seeing me. He's deep inside his own head, analyzing what I said and whatever he's considering telling me and figuring out what he should do. Then his eyes focus and he says, "You do need to know. I think."
I sigh. "Fine. Let's hear it."
Before he can speak, though, I think of something else. "How do you know anything about Jake anyhow? You barely met him."
He reaches for his drink again but stops before picking it up. "I had him investigated."
I stare at him. "You did what?"
He raises his chin. "I won't apologize. You've been living with him, and I assume you're still seeing a lot of him?"
I nod. I won't apologize either.
"So I wanted to know what he's like. Whether I need to be worried."
Given that I admitted I nearly had sex with Jake, I'd think any husband would be worried, but Ryan is clearly talking about something else. "And do you?"
He folds his hands on the table, apparently casually, but I can see his knuckles whitening. "Tell me again how you woke up that first morning."
Taken aback, I say, "What's that got to do with anything?"
"Humor me."
I clear my throat. "I woke up in his bed, and freaked out because I didn't know who he was or who I was either."
Ryan's hands tighten on each other even more, until his fingertips are digging into his own skin. "And what were you wearing?"
I'd glossed over this part when telling him and Claire the story, but I can tell Ryan has figured it out. Still, I feel weird admitting I was naked in another man's bed, so I just slowly shake my head.
He closes his eyes as if he can't bear to see me. "Did you... hurt anywhere? Feel weird?"
"My head. I threw up after I got up because I was dizzy. But I was in a fight at his bar, and also had a lot to drink, so that's probably why."
He still doesn't look at me. "Nowhere else?"
"No. Why, where do you think I should have been hurt?"
His eyes open, and the rage and frustration in them make me recoil. "You shouldn't have been hurt anywhere. I'm just afraid..."
When he doesn't finish, I say, "Of what?"
He reaches for his ginger ale with one hand and takes hold of my hand with the other. After a sip, he sets the glass down and takes my other hand, his skin cold against mine. "I don't know how to tell you."
"Just say it." His tension is making me steadily more nervous so I try to make a joke. "You told me you'd cheated. This can't be worse than that."
His hands tighten on mine and he doesn't seem to realize I was trying to be funny. "It is." He takes a deep breath. "Donna, a year ago Jake was charged with rape."
Chapter Twenty
I stare at Ryan, hardly able to breathe. My Jake? Well, he's not mine, but whatever. That guy, the sweetheart who saved me from the fight at his bar and from the guys who'd got me drunk so they could do who
knows what with me? "I can't believe that."
"I have the police report if you want to see it."
"I don't. Tell me." I don't want to know but there's an unpleasant little tickle at the back of my mind, something I'm trying to ignore which will not be ignored any longer.
Ryan's first words bring the tickle front and center and make it real. "We only have Jake's word for how he met you and how he helped you. His boss saw you at the fight and saw Jake take you inside, but after that he told the investigator he was too busy to see anything else except you leaving, drunk, with Jake when the bar closed. There's no way to know what really happened. He might have drugged you, taken whatever money you had with you, he might even have... done things to you."
"I asked him if we had sex," I say, my mind whirling. "That first day, I asked. He said no."
Ryan strokes the back of my hand with his thumb. "So maybe you were having doubts even then."
I withdraw my other hand and rub my face, then to my surprise slip that hand back into Ryan's grip. I want the comfort of his touch. "I don't know." I look up at his concerned face. "I can't imagine Jake a rapist. Dragging some woman off the street... I just can't see it."
Ryan shakes his head. "It wasn't like that. The woman claimed they'd met at his bar and were fooling around but then he wouldn't stop when she didn't want to go any further."
The way that police officer had eyed me before letting me leave with Jake. She'd known about the charge. "Was he just charged? Or was he convicted?"
"Just charged. The woman insisted she'd said no, Jake insisted she hadn't, and she eventually decided not to take it to a trial."
I frown. "Why not? If I'd been raped I'd want to make sure the bastard got what was coming to him."
Ryan nods slowly. "The problem is the 'he-said-she-said' thing. They'd have to be able to prove beyond reasonable doubt that Jake was told no and went ahead anyhow and that's really hard to do."
I look down at the table. I have no idea what to say. I want to say there's no way Jake would have done that, but I can't. Not that I think he's cruel or abusive, but he's not a noticing kind of guy and, though I hate it, I can imagine him simply not hearing her say no. She'd been saying yes while they were fooling around, and he might not have recognized her change of attitude when it happened.
Toronto Collection Volume 2 (Toronto Series #6-9) Page 34
