Breath of Scandal

by Sandra Brown

  “Dr. Hearon? What message?”

  Hank’s face creased in a dozen places when he smiled. “You live with Dean Hearon? Imagine that.” He scratched his head. “I never thought to look into faculty housing. I combed all the dorms and sorority houses.”

  “Of all the dirty, rotten tricks!” She had always given evasive answers to his leading questions about where she lived. He had outsmarted her this time, but it was impossible to stay mad at Hank. “Now that you got what you came for, please go. I can’t afford to lose this job.”

  “I’ll go quietly under one condition.”

  “No conditions.”

  “Have it your way.” He sat down on the corner of Miss Dorothy’s desk and pilfered an apple from a basket of fruit, which Miss Dorothy ate religiously for its fiber content.

  Jade cast a worried glance toward the storeroom door, half-expecting her employer to come storming through waving a dismissal slip. “What condition?” she whispered.

  “Tomorrow, before biology class, you’ve got to have coffee with me. And don’t say you’ve got another class because I’ve seen you studying in the library during that hour.”

  “Miss Sperry?”

  The sound of Miss Dorothy’s voice galvanized Jade into accepting his invitation and shooing him out with the apple tucked inside his jacket. He gave Miss Dorothy a crisp, military salute on his way out.

  Her narrow nostrils quivered with indignation. “Who was that impertinent young man?”

  Jade stammered a plausible explanation, but she was laughing on the inside and thinking just how impertinent Hank Arnett was.

  They met for coffee the following day and fell into a habit of it. He asked her out on dates to dinner, the movies, and concerts, but, to his disappointment, she always declined. Other young men on campus pursued her too, but she stopped their advances cold. Only Hank had approached her in the friendly, nonthreatening, nonsexual way that she could tolerate.

  On a sunny afternoon toward the end of the Christmas vacation, Jade was playing with Graham in the backyard when Cathy called to her. “You have company.”

  Hank loped across the yard and dropped down onto the grass beside her. “Hi. I’m a few days late saying this, but Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.”

  “Same to you.”

  “Was Santa good to you?”

  “Too good,” she said, reminded of the Hearons’ embarrassing generosity, which she couldn’t reciprocate. “You’re back from Winston-Salem early.”

  He shrugged. “There wasn’t much to do at home except eat. Mom said I looked thin and took it upon herself to remedy that. I reminded her that I’ve always been thin, but she stuffed me anyway. I may not eat again till Easter. Jade, who’s the kid?”

  His sentences ran together, but he stopped abruptly after posing the question. Cocking his head to one side, he looked at her curiously, rather like a puppy looks at his master when he speaks.

  “This is my son. His name is Graham. Say hello to Hank, Graham.” Graham toddled across the grass toward Hank and smacked him on the nose.

  “Hey!” He raised both fists as though ready to box with the child, then socked him lightly in the tummy. Graham laughed.

  “I’m not married and never have been, Hank.”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “But you wanted to.”

  “Is his father important to you?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, Graham doesn’t have a father.”

  Hank gave her a sweet smile and fell back into the grass, hauling the toddler down with him. Graham loved the rowdy game. His peals of laughter eventually brought Cathy to the back door to investigate. She invited Hank to stay for dinner.

  * * *

  “I’m going to miss you like hell.” Hank stared dismally through the windshield of his car. It was raining—a heavy, ponderous spring rain. “If my mother wouldn’t pitch a bitch, I’d stay here and go to summer school.”

  “You can’t do that, Hank. Especially not on my account.”

  Jade was sitting in the passenger seat of his Volkswagen, which he had painted to look like a ladybug. He turned his head and gazed at her. “Jade, everything I do is on your account. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

  She cast her eyes down. “I told you months ago that we were only going to be friends. That’s all. I distinctly remember the conversation. It took place right after you returned from Christmas vacation. We were studying for that biology—”

  “I remember, I remember,” he said testily.

  “Don’t blame me if you’re disappointed now. I was honest with you from the beginning.” She reached for the door handle, but he caught her arm.

  “You haven’t been honest, Jade. You’ve told me that all you want is friendship, but you haven’t told me why. I can only guess that your reason has something to do with Graham.”

  She shook her head adamantly.

  “Listen, Jade, I’m crazy about that kid. I don’t care who fathered him, I’d love to be his daddy.”

  “Please, Hank, don’t,” she groaned. “Don’t say anything more. I can’t return what you feel.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know.”

  “Why, Jade? Tell me. I know you like me.”

  “I like you very much.”

  “But… What?”

  She looked away, refusing to answer.

  “Jade.” Hank cupped her face between his long, slender hands. “Some bastard hurt you. He broke your heart. Let me make up for that, okay? I love you so much, I can make up for any bad experience you suffered.”

  She clamped her teeth over her lower lip and shook her head as much as his bracketing hands would allow it to move.

  “You’re so beautiful, Jade. Jesus, I love you.”

  He lowered his head toward hers and, for the first time, kissed her. His lips were soft and gentle. They posed no threat, and yet Jade’s heart began to drum. Shock and fear immobilized her. He kissed the features of her face, glancing his lips off her eyelids and cheekbones and murmuring about how beautiful and desirable she was, and how badly he wanted to make love to her.

  Eventually he returned to her lips. Jade took several swift, short breaths, then ceased to breathe at all when his lips applied more pressure and tried to separate hers. Still petrified, she couldn’t push him away. Mistakenly, he took that as an encouraging sign. He angled his head to one side and rubbed his lips against hers, parting them.

  Jade’s body stiffened. Hank removed his hands from either side of her head and set them on her shoulders, where his fingers tried to massage away her tension. Then he took one of her hands and pressed it against his chest. The other, he placed on his thigh.

  His breathing grew rough and irregular. He made small, hungry sounds deep in his throat. Nevertheless, he exercised supreme self-discipline as he attempted to deepen their kiss and coax a response from her. Jade recoiled. Hank was gently persistent.

  His tongue wasn’t intrusive or imperious, but the moment it entered her mouth, Jade began to whimper with revulsion and fear. She didn’t recall the ardent tenderness of Gary’s kisses, only those which had been forced on her during the rape. She moved her hands to Hank’s shoulders. Misreading her reaction, his arms went around her and hugged her tightly as he pressed her against the door and leaned over her.

  “No!” Jade shoved him away, thrashing her head from side to side and begging him to stop hurting her. She emitted dry, racking sobs. “Stop. Please don’t. Oh, God!”

  “Jade?” Mortified, Hank tried to take her into his arms, but she huddled against the car door. “Jade,” he whispered, his voice mystified and anguished, “I’m sorry. I’m not going to hurt you. Jade?”

  His fingers sifted through her hair until she quieted. Eventually, she raised her head and looked at him with wide, fearful eyes. “I told you. I can’t.”

  “It’s okay, Jade.”

  She was insistent that he comprehend what she was telling him. “I can’t be with you like that.
I can’t be with any man. Ever. Don’t expect it. Don’t waste your time trying.”

  His eyes had lost their sparkle but not their kindness. He smiled lopsidedly and shrugged with self-deprecation. “It’s my time. I’ll waste it how I like.”

  He walked her to the front door and bade her a final goodbye, promising to write at least once a week through the summer. After letting herself in, Jade leaned against the door and closed her eyes.

  “Jade, would you and Hank like some cake and coffee?”

  Cathy had entered the vestibule from the rear of the house, and drew up short when she saw Jade’s bleak expression. “Hank’s not with me, Cathy. He said to tell you both goodbye and that he would look forward to seeing you in the fall.”

  “Oh, I thought he would come in for a while.”

  “No. How’s Graham? Did he go to bed without a fuss? I’d better go up and check on him.”

  As Jade moved past her, Cathy reached out and caught her hand. “What’s wrong, Jade? Are you upset about Hank leaving for the summer? Or did you two have a spat?”

  Jade slumped down onto the third step of the staircase and covered her face with her hands, laughing mirthlessly behind them. “Oh Lord, I wish it were that simple.”

  Cathy sat down on the step beneath her, removed Jade’s hands from her face, and regarded her with maternal concern. “What’s the matter, Jade? Can you talk about it?”

  “Where’s Hank? What’s going on?” Mitch asked as he joined them. He had on a summer-weight robe over his pajamas. Cathy, Jade noticed for the first time, was also dressed for bed and had a few curlers in the top of her hair. They had been waiting up for her.

  The Hearons had been more like parents to her than her own. Ronald Sperry was little more than a medal in a box, a photograph, a warm but distant memory. Jade had made several attempts to locate her mother, but with no success. Velta had covered her tracks well—or Harvey had covered them for her. Evidently she had washed her hands of Jade and Graham. The severance with her mother nearly broke Jade’s heart, but she had come to accept it and hoped that Velta had found some happiness.

  Jade certainly had. From the day the Hearons had insisted that she and Graham move in with them, they had treated her as their own daughter, although they insisted that she call them by their first names. Graham’s version of “Cathy” was something like “Caff.” He called Mitch “Poppy.”

  The days had fallen into weeks and the weeks into months, and before long Jade couldn’t imagine life without Cathy and Mitch. She and Graham shared a large, comfortable bedroom suite on the second floor of their house. Cathy prepared sumptuous meals for them. The lovely house, initially their refuge, became their home.

  Cathy carried pictures of Graham in her wallet and boasted about each of his accomplishments like a grandmother. They honored Jade’s privacy and never questioned her about his father, although she was certain they wondered about it. Any awkwardness that arose from introducing Jade and Graham to their friends was either patently ignored or handled with Cathy Hearon’s characteristic tactfulness. Jade owed them a debt of gratitude she could never repay, but she hoped that she and Graham had returned some of the joy they had received. Without the Hearons’ generosity, her life would have taken a vastly different turn. Not only would she have missed college, but, more important, their affection, acceptance, and compassion.

  Now, taking a seat in the small chair beside the foyer table, Mitch said, “Are you ladies going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Something happened between Hank and Jade tonight.”

  Jade smiled wanly. “No, Cathy. Nothing happened between us tonight. Nothing ever will. That’s the problem.” She took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, Hank has fallen in love with me.”

  “You don’t return his feelings?” Cathy probed gently.

  “I love him dearly as a friend.”

  “Being considered a friend is a tough blow for a boy in love,” Mitch said.

  “I know,” Jade said miserably. “I tried to tell him months ago that it was hopeless. I encouraged him to date other girls. I knew he would get hurt if he kept seeing me, but he wouldn’t listen. Now the worst has happened, and it breaks my heart.”

  “Are you so sure that you won’t eventually come to love him?” Cathy asked hopefully. “He’s such an easygoing young man, and utterly captivated by you. Perhaps after the separation this summer…”

  Jade was already shaking her head. “I won’t fall in love with him—with anyone.”

  Their troubled faces conveyed their concern. It would have been a tremendous relief to unburden herself and tell them the whole truth. But she didn’t want anyone to know about the rape. She’d learned that assault victims were victims for life. Even if they were entirely innocent, as she was, they were forever regarded with curiosity and suspicion, as though they had been branded. She lived in fear of the Hearons finding out about her. They probably would consider her the sinned against rather than the sinner, but she was unwilling to take the chance. Each time she was tempted to confide in them, she had only to remind herself that her classmates, her best friend, even her own mother had doubted her.

  “I’m tired,” Jade said, rising. “Good night.” She hugged them in turn before going upstairs, trusting them to respect her privacy. They asked no further questions.

  * * *

  Even while taking a summer curriculum, Jade was able to work longer hours in the store until she was as familiar with the stock and the accounts as was Miss Dorothy herself. By the end of the summer, Jade had become so indispensable to her that she fired her accountant and turned all the bookkeeping over to Jade.

  “I’ll need more money,” Jade had told her softly but firmly. “At least fifty dollars a week.”

  They settled on a forty-dollar raise. Jade saved most of it. If there was ever another crisis in her life, she was determined to have more than twenty dollars on which to survive.

  The Hearons and she managed to endure Graham’s Terrible Twos. Cathy merely moved everything breakable out of his reach. In the afternoons when Mitch returned home from the campus, he expended some of Graham’s excess energy by taking him for long walks. No matter what the weather, hand in hand they strolled down the sidewalks of the neighborhood. Mitch discussed with him the marvels of the universe, and, as though he understood, Graham listened. Their excursions usually produced something interesting—acorns, caterpillars, a bouquet of dandelions for the dining-room table.

  Hank returned in the fall. Jade was surprised at how glad she was to see him. As promised, he had written at least once each week. His letters were newsy and anecdotal, and he always included an original drawing for Graham. After seeing each other daily for almost a month, Jade reopened the topic of their relationship. “Hank, you haven’t forgotten what I told you last spring, have you?”

  “No,” he replied. “Have you forgotten what I told you?”

  She gazed at him forlornly. “But I feel guilty. You should be going out and having fun. You should be developing other relationships that would be much more… fulfilling.”

  He folded his long arms across his chest. “What you’re waltzing around is that I should be getting laid, right?”

  “Right.”

  “When I want to, I will, okay? Right now, the only woman I’m interested in making love with is having some problems. Until she works them out, I’m willing to make do.”

  “Please don’t, Hank. I’ll never work these problems out. I don’t want to be responsible for your unhappiness.”

  “I’m not unhappy. I’d rather be with you, not screwing, than be with someone else screwing and wishing it were you. Does that make sense?”

  “Absolutely none.”

  He laughed, but his eyes turned serious. “There is something you can do for me, though.”

  “What?”

  “Get some professional help.”

  “You mean a psychiatrist?”

  “Or psychologist, or counselor.” He gnawed on his l
ower lip a moment before saying, “Jade, I’m not fishing to know, you understand, but I feel something traumatic happened that turned you off men. Am I warm?”

  “Not men. I like men.”

  “Then it’s sexual intimacy you’re afraid of. You weren’t repulsed when I tried to make love to you. You were scared.”

  She neither disagreed nor conceded, but kept her eyes averted.

  “Maybe if you talked it over with somebody, he or she could help you overcome it.”

  “Don’t base any hopes on it.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to try.”

  They didn’t discuss it again, but he had planted a seed in Jade’s mind. She carefully weighed the benefits and drawbacks. One deterrent was the expense. She begrudged having to invest money on professional counseling when she held out very little hope for a return on that investment. Another drawback was Hank himself. If she began seeing a psychologist, he might expect an instant recovery and start pressing her for more than she could give. Besides, the main purpose in her life now wasn’t to have a successful relationship with a man, but to avenge Gary’s death. Dealing with her phobia might splinter her focus.

  The benefit, of course, was obvious. She might return to “normal.”

  It wasn’t until a year after the subject came up that she scheduled her first appointment. For several weeks she kept her decision to herself. When she finally informed Hank, he grabbed her by the shoulders, squeezed them hard, and exclaimed, “Great! Terrific!”

  The immediate outcome of the sessions was neither great nor terrific. Discussing the rape with the female psychologist opened up wounds that Jade had hoped were cauterized by time and distance. She came away from each session feeling as though she had been violated again. After months of therapy, however, she gained confidence that one day she might be able to put her fears aside. If that ever happened, she would be as glad as Hank.

  On a chilly, blustery afternoon in early March of her junior year, she jogged up the sidewalk to the house and let herself in. “Cathy? Mitch? Graham? Mommy’s home,” she called. “Where is everybody?”

  Graham barreled into the foyer and tackled her around the knees. It seemed that he grew an inch every day. He now moved with the impetus of a locomotive.