Choose Me

by Tess Gerritsen

  Taryn inhaled the other woman’s scent of soap and disinfectant. Certainly it was not a scent to inspire passion. So this was what Jack went home to every night, the smell of sterility and exam rooms. To a woman who spent her day pressing aging flesh and peering into orifices. Why would he choose this over what Taryn could offer him?

  She stretched out on the table so the doctor could examine her abdomen. As she felt the doctor’s warm hands press against her belly, Taryn thought of the baby now growing in Margaret Dorian’s abdomen. Jack’s baby. Neither Jack nor his wife was young, and Taryn wondered why they hadn’t had children up till now. Because they couldn’t, or because they’d chosen not to? That baby was the reason Jack had left her, and even though it was now just a ball of cells that was probably no bigger than her thumb, she hated it. As Dr. Dorian felt for her liver and spleen, Taryn stared at the other woman’s belly, willing the baby inside her to shrivel up and die. If it did not exist, Jack would still be with her.

  “Everything seems normal,” Dr. Dorian said, straightening. “You’re a perfectly healthy twenty-two-year-old. Now it’s up to you to stay that way. Do you smoke cigarettes or use drugs? Alcohol?”

  “I have a drink now and then.”

  “Unprotected sex?”

  If only you knew.

  “I try to be careful,” Taryn replied. “But sometimes, you know how it is. You get carried away.”

  “I can order a pregnancy test. If you think you need one.”

  That was something Taryn had not even considered. “No,” she finally said. “I don’t need one.”

  “Well, just keep being careful,” Dr. Dorian said and gave Taryn’s shoulder a squeeze. She was not yet a mother, but already maternal gestures seemed natural to her. “Now, do you have any school forms for me to fill out?”

  “I’ll mail them to you.”

  “Certainly.” She jotted a note in the chart. “Which grad school will you be attending?”

  “Commonwealth.”

  She glanced up. “Oh? My husband’s on the faculty there.”

  “Yes, I know. I took one of his seminars. It’s called Star-Crossed Lovers.”

  “What a small world!”

  “Yes, isn’t it?”

  “So what will you be studying in grad school?”

  “English lit. I never would have gotten into the program without your husband’s help. He wrote me the best recommendation letters, and that made all the difference.”

  Dr. Dorian smiled. It was not a fake smile just to be polite; no, this was a smile of genuine delight about her husband’s good deed. “He loves it when he finds a student who really shines.”

  “When I was looking for a doctor, I noticed your name was Dorian. That’s kind of the reason I picked you.”

  “Really? I’ll have to thank him for the referral!”

  “Be sure to tell him I said hello. Tell him I’ll never forget all the lessons he taught me.”

  “I certainly will.” She gave a breezy wave as she headed for the door. “Good luck in grad school, Taryn. In case I don’t see you again.”

  Oh, you’ll be seeing me. Sooner than you think.

  CHAPTER 31

  JACK

  It was hard to believe that Charlie was dying when he showed up at their house looking almost as hale as he had before his diagnosis. His glacier-blue eyes still flashed the chilly sharpness that could bring criminals to their knees. He might have lost some weight from the radiation therapy, but years of regular workouts at Gold’s Gym had built a sturdy frame, thick with muscles, and he did not project the shrunken look Jack had seen in other cancer patients.

  And tonight, he’d arrived in high spirits and waving a bottle of sixteen-year-old Lagavulin whiskey—his favorite brand, which made it Jack’s favorite as well.

  As rib eye steaks broiled in the kitchen, Charlie poured the whiskey and handed glasses to Maggie and Jack. “No better time than the present to celebrate being alive,” he said. “And from now on, only the expensive stuff will do!”

  Both Charlie and Jack gulped down the whiskey, but Maggie quietly set hers down untouched, a detail Charlie—observant as always—did not miss.

  “Not going to join our toast, darling?” he asked.

  “Actually, Dad, I have a good reason not to. Jack and I have some news.”

  “It’s something big,” Jack said, grinning. “Really big.”

  “Well, I hope it won’t be that big,” Maggie said, laughing. She went to stand face to face with her father. “Dad, we’re going to have a baby.”

  Slowly Charlie put down his glass. For a moment he could not speak; he simply stared at his daughter, his beautiful daughter.

  “It’s going to happen in October. My doctor says the pregnancy looks good, and I’m feeling great. Dad, aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “Oh dear God. My Maggie. Is this real?”

  “It is.” Laughing and sobbing at the same time, she took Charlie’s hands in hers. “It is, it is! You’re finally going to be a grandpa!”

  In all the years that Jack had known him, he had seen Charlie cry only once, at the funeral of Maggie’s mother, Annie. But at that moment his face crumpled, and suddenly all three of them were hugging and weeping. They wept for joy. They wept in gratitude for this chance at a family again. They wept in hope that this time he and Maggie would have a baby to love, even as Charlie was facing the end of his own life. Jack also knew that part of his own reaction rose from the stress of the whole Taryn affair—from the annihilating guilt of cheating on Maggie, from the lies and deception, from not stopping himself from using Taryn and adding to the scar tissue of men who had abandoned her. And from the prowling fear of it all coming out.

  To give them some privacy, Jack retreated to the kitchen. He pulled the steaks out of the broiler, tossed the salad, and opened a bottle of wine. Charlie’s heart-healthy diet was now out the window; in the months left to him, he’d eat all the steak he damn well wanted. When Jack returned to the living room, father and daughter were sitting on the sofa, Charlie’s arm slung over her shoulder, his cheeks flushed with happiness.

  “You’ve got so much to think about now, eh, Jack?” Charlie said.

  “It’s just starting to sink in, all the things we’ll need to do. New paint and curtains in the spare room. Furniture, baby clothes. Heck, I’ve never even held a baby. The whole thing’s a little scary to me.”

  “If only my Annie were still here, she’d set you straight on everything. Burping, swaddling, feeding schedules. Look at the fine job she did with our Maggie here. She must be smiling down at us right now.”

  Maggie leaned her head on Charlie’s shoulder. “I know she is, Dad.”

  “So what’re you going to name him? I hope you’re not thinking of fancy names for the kid like Ethan or Oliver.”

  “What’s wrong with Ethan or Oliver?” Jack said.

  “Better to choose a good solid name for a good solid lad. There’s nothing wrong with Joe or Sam.”

  “What if it’s a girl?”

  Charlie shook his head. “No, it’s going to be a boy. I have a very strong feeling about this.” Gently he placed a palm against Maggie’s abdomen. “And I’ll make damn sure I live long enough to see him come into the world.”

  “Nothing would make us happier,” Maggie said.

  “Now, you know what’d also make me happy?” Charlie looked at Jack. “Getting some food into my girl here. She’s eating for two now, so let’s make sure she and my grandbaby are properly fed.”

  Jack bowed, gesturing toward the dining room. “My lord and lady, medium-rare steaks await you both.”

  Charlie walked his daughter to the table, treating her as if she were the fragile member of the family, not him. In truth, the news of the baby seemed to have breathed fresh vigor into Charlie, and his laugh was louder, his appetite heartier, than Jack could remember. By the time Jack finished pouring wine and dishing out salads for everyone, Charlie had already devoured a third of his rib eye
and had added so much butter to his baked potato that it was swimming in a melted puddle of it.

  Maggie shot her husband a joyful glance. Tonight it seemed impossible that Charlie was sick. If only this moment could last forever, Jack thought. All of us alive and happy. Everything right with our world.

  He sliced into his steak. Even that was perfect.

  “Oh, Jack, I almost forgot to tell you,” said Maggie. “One of your students dropped by to see me at the clinic today.”

  “Oh? Who?”

  “A girl named Taryn Moore.”

  Jack sucked in a gasp, inhaling wine. For a stinging moment he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak.

  “Are you okay?” said Maggie.

  He shook his head and gestured that the drink had gone up his nose. His sinuses felt as if they’d been cauterized, and he tried to swallow but instead coughed and gagged at the same time.

  As tears ran down his face, he waved her away.

  “Jack, breathe. Breathe.”

  He finally managed to suck in a breath. “Went down the wrong pipe,” he gasped and sank back, wiping his face with a napkin. “Hate it when that happens.”

  Charlie pushed a water glass to him. As Jack reached for it, he saw Charlie watching him, those ice-blue eyes fixed on his.

  Jack took a sip of water and felt the spasms in his throat ease. “Sorry.”

  “You scared me,” said Maggie. “The good news is it was only wine you inhaled and not steak.”

  Yeah, great news. Taryn Moore is stalking my wife.

  He settled back in his chair and picked up the steak knife, but he’d lost his appetite. He wanted only to slink away from the table, away from Charlie’s watchful gaze.

  “So what’s that you were saying, Maggie?” Charlie asked, slicing off another bite of steak. “About Jack’s student?”

  “Oh, right. Taryn Moore. She asked me to say hello. Do you remember her, Jack?”

  He nodded, trying to appear calm. Taryn hadn’t just randomly chosen his wife as her doctor. She’d specifically chosen Maggie just to let him know she was not finished with him. That more trouble was coming.

  He sipped his water. “Yeah. I think she’s in my seminar.”

  “You think? You have only fifteen students in that seminar.”

  “Yeah, Taryn . . . uh . . . Moore. I know which one she is.”

  “I should think you’d remember. She’s hard to miss. She’s fashion-model gorgeous.”

  “Is she, now?” said Charlie. His gaze was still on Jack.

  Jack made a noncommittal shrug. “I suppose she’s not bad looking. Kind of quiet.” He downed more water.

  “Really? She didn’t strike me that way at all,” said Maggie. “In fact, she seemed pretty high spirited. And you’ll be happy to hear she thinks you’re the best professor she’s ever had.”

  As he reached for his glass of wine, he had a terrible thought. “She’s not going to be your regular patient, is she?”

  “No. She only came by for a physical. She said she needed it for grad school.”

  As far as Jack knew, the university did not require a physical exam to apply to graduate school, so there was no good reason for her to visit Maggie. Her only reason is me. She’s tormenting me.

  “Speaking of names for the baby, don’t you think Taryn’s a beautiful name, for either a girl or a boy? I looked it up, and it’s Welsh for thunder.” She pressed a hand to her belly. “Maybe what we have here is a baby Taryn. What do you think?”

  Yeah, great!

  “I’m not crazy about the name,” Jack said. In fact, it would be a lifelong punishment: having his child named after his mistress. It suddenly occurred to him that although he and Taryn had been as intimate as two bodies could be, he actually knew very little about her. She could be insane. She could be dangerous.

  This much he did know: if she wanted to, she could destroy him.

  CHAPTER 32

  JACK

  “Professor Dorian?” said the voice on the phone.

  “Yes?”

  “This is Elizabeth Sacco from the Title Nine Office. I’m wondering if we might talk again soon.”

  “Again?” He could not keep his voice from leaping an octave higher. “What is this about?”

  “I’m afraid there’s been another complaint against you. Do you have some free time today or tomorrow so we can discuss the matter?”

  He felt his face flush in panic. “What kind of complaint?”

  “I think it’s better if we have this conversation in person.”

  It’s Taryn. It has to be her.

  It was eight thirty, and his office was just a few buildings away from Sacco’s office, but he needed time to absorb this fresh blow and prepare himself for the possibilities. “I’m free today. I can be there around ten. Would that work?”

  “That would be fine. This shouldn’t take long.”

  Yeah, he thought. It didn’t take long to say you’re fired.

  At five minutes to ten o’clock, and for the second time that semester, he stood at the door through which he’d hoped never to pass again: OFFICE FOR UNIVERSITY EQUITY AND COMPLIANCE, DR. ELIZABETH SACCO, TITLE IX COORDINATOR.

  He strolled in, trying to look casual, but his nerves were sizzling. The same female receptionist greeted him with her quietly damning smile and led him into Elizabeth Sacco’s inner office. Sacco shook his hand and sat down at her desk as he took the seat across from her. No exchange of niceties, nothing about the latest snowstorm or how great the Celtics were doing.

  “I realize this is probably getting old,” she said. “Meeting like this.”

  “No problem,” he said, trying to feign nonchalance. “You said there was another complaint?”

  “Yes. I just want to run it by you, to get your response.” She sounded so reasonable, so nonconfrontational. Was she putting him at ease, merely to lay a trap?

  “Okay.”

  “We received an anonymous call yesterday. The caller claimed you’re involved in a sexual relationship with a student.”

  He felt as if a grenade had gone off in his chest. He managed to keep his voice steady as he said, “Wow. That’s a pretty serious charge. Did the caller give any specifics?”

  “I have no other details, only what the caller said.” She checked her notes. “Quote: ‘I think Professor Dorian is having an affair with an undergraduate female student.’ That’s the full statement. Nothing else, no details, no names, no places. After making that statement, the person hung up.”

  “And how am I supposed to respond to something like that?”

  “Yet it’s not a complaint I can ignore. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure what to do with this.”

  “Then maybe it should be ignored.”

  “Still, I have to document your response.”

  “You said it was anonymous?”

  “Yes. We get anonymous complaints every so often, from callers who are afraid to identify themselves. And we have no choice but to follow protocol and inform the accused. So tell me, Professor, is there any truth at all to this complaint?”

  His mouth went dry. The last time he’d sat here, the accusation against him had been blatantly false and easily refuted. Not this time. This time he was guilty as hell, and the consequence of a sexual relationship with a student would be immediate termination.

  “Professor Dorian?”

  “I’m guessing this must be some disgruntled student trying to get back at me again. Maybe someone I gave a bad grade to. And this is how she’s retaliating.”

  For a long moment Dr. Sacco studied him, searching for any tics or microexpressions that might betray him.

  “So that’s your response,” she said.

  “Yes.” He hated having to lie. Hated that he had plunged blindly into that damn affair with Taryn. He hated the day he’d met her, hated the fact he wasn’t a better man than what he’d become. Hated that he was not the good husband Maggie deserved. The last time he’d sat in this chair, he’d been charged wi
th defending a fictitious teacher having an affair with a fictitious student. It had been like a preview of coming attractions. His life had imitated art in all its tragically stupid glory.

  “Then unless some other evidence develops, that’s all for now,” she said. “I’m sorry for any inconvenience.”

  Unless some other evidence develops.

  Which meant she’d be watching him. Which meant he would always be under this shadow of doubt and could never slip up, never let down his guard.

  He stood up to leave, but at the door he paused. “You said it was an anonymous caller on the phone. Did she give you any clue who she was?” he asked.

  Her eyes narrowed, and suddenly he regretted the question. “Why would you want to know that?” she asked.

  “If I’m going to be accused of something this serious, I’d like some idea of who she is.”

  “I suppose I can tell you it wasn’t a she.”

  This startled him. “The caller was male?”

  “Yes.”

  He knew at once who had made the call: Cody Atwood, the boy who always trailed in Taryn’s wake. The boy who clearly worshipped her, who seemed to have no other friends. For him, Taryn must seem like a dazzlingly brilliant sun around which he revolved.

  Taryn had put him up to this. What other torments did she have in store?

  CHAPTER 33

  JACK

  It was probably paranoia, but as he walked across campus the next day, he felt as if everybody who saw him knew his secret. As if scored on his forehead was the bright-red letter A. Hester Prynne, meet Jack Dorian.

  Every other morning when he walked into his seminar, he’d hear the buzz of conversation and greetings of “Hey, Professor.” But that morning, a strangely conspiratorial silence hung over the room. Where Taryn usually sat, there was an empty chair, like a black hole sucking in all the light. Cody was present, though, and when Jack looked at him, Cody could not hold Jack’s gaze.

  So it was Cody who’d called the Title IX office. Had the son of a bitch blabbed to the whole class? Was that why they were all staring at him?

  Jack refused to let them know how rattled he was. He bid them all his usual “good morning” and took out his notes. He was damn well going to conduct this class as he always did, despite the anxiety gnawing like a rodent in his stomach. At least he didn’t have to deal with Taryn’s presence. He hoped she’d drop out of the course, just to avoid the discomfort of their facing each other across the table for these final weeks of the semester. Perhaps that noose around his neck was loosening, just a bit. Just enough for him to breathe again.