by Renee Roszel
“Why garbage, professor?”
His unexpected choice of subject startled her. She gathered he was not a man predisposed to small talk. Somehow, though, the very directness of his query put her more at ease. She lowered her eyes to meet his, and smiled. “If you want to find out about a civilization, Mr. Hunt, just look at what’s thrown away. Archaeologists study ancient garbage to learn about past civilizations. In this project, we’ll be looking at today’s refuse to learn about our cultural patterns.”
There was a faint smile on his lips. “I suppose it would be hard to lie about one’s garbage.”
She laughed. “Exactly.” Sitting forward, she added, “You’d be surprised about people—I mean, how they often say one thing and do another.”
“Would I?” He arched one eyebrow. The expression wasn’t particularly sincere, and though he gave no obvious indication of it, she was afraid he was making fun of her.
She sat back, resuming a businesslike manner. “I mean, in studies done in California, for example, only one family in four admits to drinking beer at home, but beer cans turn up in the refuse of three out of four households.”
“Let me go on record, now, professor. I have been known to drink beer at home.”
“Thanks, but we won’t be examining your trash. Actually, choosing test locations is something I’ll need your help with, though. We’re hoping to compare two diverse socioeconomic groups: a low-income neighborhood and one that is basically wealthy.”
“No problem. Unlike Robin Hood, I take from both the rich and the poor.”
She was in the process of folding her hands in her lap when he made his little joke. She looked up, surprised by his wit. He wasn’t smiling. She didn’t know whether to or not. Opting for passively pleasant, she offered, “Good. If we could, Cotter, I’d like the neighborhood locations as soon as possible—by Monday, I hope. You see, we’ll first need to interview residents in the specific areas. Meanwhile, this weekend, with your permission, I’ll have the students get the stables set up as our lab.”
He nodded. “You have my permission, but—” he looked skeptical “—don’t people ever refuse to let you have their trash?”
“Well, I honestly don’t know. This is my first time at this.” She couldn’t tell if he was really interested, but she decided she’d explain. “When we do the interviews, we assure everyone that privacy is ensured because we do our recording by census tracts rather than by directly identifying people. Only we know which house goes with which trash by a code number. No one else will. Why should they refuse?”
“On principle, I suppose.”
She sat forward again, really interested. “Would you refuse a group of college students the chance to dig around in your trash?”
“Probably. But then, I take trash more seriously than do most people.” He actually smiled, and his face changed entirely. Raine uttered a barely audible “Oh.” He was a striking man. How ironic that she should notice his handsomeness when she was hardly ever any more aware of men than they were of her. Poor Cotter. He probably had a terrible time convincing women that he wasn’t interested in them.
Raine decided that now was the time to tell him what she knew. She didn’t care to analyze the reason she was so determined—so uncharacteristically compelled—to bring up the subject. She knew it would be awkward, at best. But somehow, she couldn’t bear the idea of being a guest in this man’s home and not acknowledging his truth. This was the only way she could think of to express her sincerity and tolerance—letting him know that his gayness didn’t matter to her. She wondered how much companionship he really had, and the thought of him alone on the isolated estate made her sad. Bolstered by the thought that in the long run it would put their relationship on more honest turf, she ventured, “I—I think you are a man who values his privacy, perhaps more than most. Am I right?
His smile faded. He seemed to sense the tension in the air. Her heart went out to him. Right now her host’s feelings were more important than her own, and she had to fight against her natural reserve. With determination, she moved toward him and placed a comforting hand on his leg. She was taken aback by how hard the muscles felt.
She faced him and looked directly into his dark eyes. They were wider than they had been a moment ago. Patting the leg reassuringly, she whispered, “I know all about you, Cotter, and I want you to know I understand.”
A wince dashed across his face before his expression changed to an incredulous frown. “You…understand.”
It was an odd reaction, she thought. He didn’t seem as amazed about her knowing that he was gay as he did about her acceptance of the fact. She nodded firmly, intent on convincing him that she meant what she said, “Yes, I do. Really.” Removing her hand from his leg, she turned to address him directly. “I can’t tell you how I know, only that I do. But, believe me, Cotter, I’ve been there, and I know how cruel people can be to those of us who are different. For as long as I can remember, people have hurt me the same way they’ve hurt you.”
He regarded her warily. “You’ve…?” His eyes were penetrating as he looked at her quizzically. “Lord…you?”
She was nodding. “Yes. I know what it is to be treated badly, to be shunned and avoided, even laughed at.”
He groaned, and she knew she’d hit a nerve. Putting her hand back on his leg, she added, “That’s why I can say I understand, and that’s why I’m going to tell you something that I’ve never told another soul.”
He took her hand and held it tightly between both of his. There was pain in his eyes. “Look, professor. I don’t want you to tell me anything.”
“Oh, but I must—”
“No, you mustn’t,” he interrupted. “It’s none of my business—”
“I’m making it your business.” She put her free hand on the two that were crushing hers. She’d gone this far with it, and she couldn’t back down now. “You’ve been so kind to allow us to stay here. I owe you this.” She grasped his hands.
“You don’t owe me this!” Releasing her hand he ran long fingers distractedly through his silver hair. “How could I have allowed myself to be talked into this?”
“Oh, please, Cotter, don’t regret letting us come. I’m just telling you this to put us at ease.” He opened his mouth to speak, but allowed her to continue. “You see, from my earliest memories, people teased me about being cross-eyed, and then, after the operation, when I got my glasses, I was still ridiculed.” Without giving him a chance to say anything, she rushed on, wanting to get her distressing admission over with and finish as quickly as possible. “And I’m ashamed to admit it, but later, when I was put in special classes for the gifted, most of the kids I knew thought I was terribly strange, and they called me The Brain. And even now I’m the old-maid schoolteacher.” She felt her cheeks burn at the admission as she stumbled on, “So—so you see, I’ve spent a lot of time alone—like you…”
“Cross-eyed?” His frown melted into an expression of surprise. “You’re talking about being called an old maid? That kind of different?”
“Yes. I felt that if you knew you weren’t alone—that I’ve also had the experience of being avoided…”
With a shake of his head he repeated, “Avoided? Professor, I’d never have guessed.”
“Well, I’d never have guessed you were gay.” She bit down on her lower lip. She’d planned on being direct, but wondered if her approach was perhaps too explicit. Somehow all this hadn’t seemed real until she’d actually said the word “gay.”
After a long moment, Cotter responded with a chuckle. The sound was deep and rich. “So, you don’t think I look gay?”
“No, not at all.” Her eyes tentatively met his gaze. His open comment suddenly relieved her anxious tension. She’d expected this encounter to be much more difficult than it was turning out to be. Raine surrendered to a smile of embarrassment. Wanting to repay him for his show of character, she offered with honest enthusiasm, “Oh, it’s quite true, Cotter. You’re an extremely
attractive man. It must be a challenge for you to convince women you aren’t interested in them.”
He ran a fist along his jaw, eyeing her closely. The black depths glitening. “You think so?”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded ingenuously.
He stared at her for a long moment; then, with a wry grin, he took her hand in his, enveloping it in the warmth of his own. “I bet you took in all kinds of strays as a kid.”
She lowered her eyes, admitting shyly, “I had to. I knew how they felt.”
When he didn’t say anything, she looked back at his face. He looked thoughtful for a moment before he glanced down at his watch. “I also bet you’re hungry.” He let go of her hand and stood up.
“I think I could eat…now,” she admitted, feeling a great weight slide off her shoulders.
“Good.” He held out his hand to help her up, and as she took it, he murmured, “You know, professor, I thought you’d take the information quite differently than you did. You surprise me.”
She became inquisitive once again. “You knew I was aware?”
“I was informed.” As he pulled her to her feet, he added, “You’ll have to forgive my sister. She thought she was helping.”
“Well, I don’t understand quite how she thought she was helping,” Raine admitted uneasily, “but now that it’s all said and done, I’m glad. Aren’t you?”
“Ecstatic.” He nodded obligingly, but she could tell he was less than enthusiastic.
“No, really, Cotter. I think we could be friends if you’d give us a chance.”
“You may be right. Few women have offered me their…friendship.” His smile lacked humor. “And I bet having a garbage collector ‘friend’—gay or not—is always good for a laugh at university functions.”
She gazed curiously at his face for a moment. Highlighted by the lamp, his features were stark angles, his eyes indistinguishable in the shadowed depth below his arched brows, but there was a glitter in the darkness that she couldn’t quite read. Pulling her gaze from his face, she scanned the bookshelves that spanned the wall to her right. Just at that moment, the album that had been playing softly behind their conversation ended and the room became so still that Raine could hear the call of a distant gull. Looking back up into Cotter’s face, she wondered how it was possible that a man of his wealth and position could be intimidated by her education. But he was. Had she been wrong before? Could that be why he insisted on calling her professor instead of by her name?
Just when she was about to ask him why he had made such a ridiculous remark, he took her arm, and turned her toward the doors, suggesting mildly, “Let’s go to dinner, professor. I’d like to meet the troops—especially the red-headed Lothario named Bill.”
Bill? Her curiosity about this new, unexpected aspect of the man flew out of her mind like a canary escaping through an open window. “Why Bill, Cotter?” Her voice had taken on a slightly strained quality.
He halted, his hand on the doorknob. Looking down at her, he shook his head without smiling. “Don’t worry, professor. My sister has a crush on him. My interest is purely in the role of concerned big brother.”
She felt silly, and shrugged. “I’m sorry, Cotter. Of course you wouldn’t—I mean, you’d never pursue an interest in my male students.”
His lips lifted in a crooked smile. “Professor Webber, you have my word on that.”
Turning toward him, she offered shyly, “Please, Cotter, call me Raine. I don’t like titles.”
He looked down at her and with a small nod, he agreed.
RAINE YAWNED AND STRETCHED. The warm water in the tub splashed and swirled about her as she rinsed the soap off her skin. The ride up, the stress of Nordie’s reveleation, the resulting talk with Cotter, the delicious dinner and now the tranquilizing bath—everything combined had made her exhausted. Leaning back against the warm marble, she thought about the dinner. It had been a lively meal, especially with Nordie’s entertaining stories about rescuing a sailboat full of seasick Boy Scouts who had drifted into the waters near the Hunt estate.
She also recalled how Carl and Cotter had reacted to their vivacious sister. It was obvious to Raine that both brothers loved her dearly. Though Carl was pale and withdrawn during most of the meal, occasionally one of Nordie’s outrageous remarks was enough to provoke a half smile from him. Raine felt sorry for the man, and she hoped that he would recover from his injury. Once a robust two-hundred-pound professional football player, he was now slumped in his wheelchair, pallid and thin, his dark eyes reflecting none of the fun in Nordie’s eyes or the alertness in Cotter’s.
She had been seated beside Carl at dinner and had tried to include him in the conversation, but usually his only response had been a vague nod. Before dinner was half over, he had excused himself and gone to his room. Nordie had been clearly upset by his departure, and Cotter had appeared less than happy as well. It was apparent that both of them were worried about him.
With a sigh, she stood up and reached for the plush towel that hung from a hook beside the tub. She patted herself dry before stepping out onto the marble steps that led to the carpeted floor.
Just as her foot sank into the deep pile, a door clicked open, and Raine froze, holding the towel draped loosely around her. Raine’s gasp made Cotter stop in startled surprise. For a time that could not have been as long as it seemed, they stared at each other. Cotter was half naked himself and Raine’s eyes were drawn to the white briefs that barely covered him.
He muttered something indistinguishable and backed out of the door he’d entered. It was on the other side of the large bathroom from the one that entered her own room. She’d noticed it, but had failed to check to make sure it was locked. She must have been more tired than she’d thought.
When the door clicked shut and Cotter was gone, she realized that she hadn’t been breathing, and she exhaled deeply. Hurriedly, if belatedly, she wrapped the towel around her. Pulling the towel even tighter, she closed her eyes and counted to ten. Embarrassed and flustered, she felt a desperate need to regain her calm.
She jumped at the sound of a knock on the door, clutching tightly to the towel. “Yes, Cotter?” she replied, her voice faint.
“I’m sorry, Raine. I—I didn’t know Nordie had given you Carl’s old room.”
“It’s just fine.” She gritted her teeth and continued, “it’s forgotten.” Even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t and would never be. At least not by her. She could still see him looking so…male.
He mumbled a rather hoarse good-night and she nodded toward the door, not completely registering the fact that he couldn’t know what she was doing. She felt listless, and she rested a hand on the edge of the vanity, wondering at the force of her reaction. Dropping the towel to the floor, she turned to look at her reflection. How flushed the warm water had made her—all the way up to her hairline.
She ran her hand across her cheek, gathering up loose strands of hair and smoothing them away from her face. She worked at logically reminding herself that Cotter would soon forget this disconcerting incident. After all, seeing her unclothed would mean little in the course of their relationship. Little? She amended the importance of the incident. Nothing, actually. It would mean nothing to him at all. Assuring herself of that fact should have eased her mind. But somehow, it didn’t. And for a reason she couldn’t fathom, she felt worse.
Chapter Three
“Surprise!”
Raine’s fork clattered off her plate onto the tablecloth as she stared, stunned at the green creature that had just entered the dining room.
Nordie came to a clanking stop in a glamour-girl pose as tin cans, tied along the end of a fishnet cape, tumbled after her into the room. Raine’s eyes widened at the outlandish costume. Besides having green skin, Nordie had on a bathing suit of the same color. Two grapefruit halves formed epaulets, and over her hips flowed a Hawaiian-style skirt made from a garbage bag cut in strips. On her feet she wore oversized wading boots, and her hair was tied in several pl
aces with grocery store twist-ties. She smiled broadly and graced her stunned audience with a curtsy. “Well, what do you think?” she asked smugly.
All conversation had stopped. Carl, who had been listlessly toying with his scrambled eggs, sat up a little straighter and stared. Cotter, who had been eating quietly across the table from Raine, set his coffee cup down. Resting his forearms on the table, he answered, “Since you ask, Nordie, I’m a little disturbed by the developments in the Middle East, but otherwise…” He let his words fade away with a shrug as he picked up his cup and took a sip as though it were common practice for her to appear at the door dressed like a shredded sack of garbage.
Raine switched her attention from Nordie’s green face to Cotter’s placid one. She’d avoided saying anything to him that morning, her memory of the embarrassing incident of last night still fresh in her mind. But under the circumstances, she couldn’t help asking, “What’s going on, Cotter?”
He raised unreadable eyes to meet hers. “Hmm?” He seemed not to know what she was talking about.
Nordie burst out laughing and plunked her hands on her hips. “Darn you, Cotter Hunt!” She clanked forward, her green brow furrowed in a mock frown.
“Not one foot closer, young lady.” Cotter halted her in midstride with his words. “Don’t get near this table. You’ll contaminate the breakfast. What have you got all over your skin?”
She smiled then. “So, you did notice, after all.”
He sat back, crossing his arms at his chest. “I noticed you’ve avoided resorting to sanity again.”
Giggling, she grabbed the flowing cape and twirled on the Oriental rug. “This is sane, Cotter. Don’t you know what today is?”
