His smirk gave Ryan her first tinge of regret for having slept with so many women. But she realized that if she had only one such woman, he would have used that to say she didn’t have enough experience, so she let the point slide.
"Time will tell, Ryan. Time will tell."
As Jamie handed her mother a just-mixed drink, Catherine held onto her extended hand for a moment. She didn’t say a word—instead, she pointedly glanced at the third finger of her daughter’s left hand, then lifted a perfectly curved eyebrow in question.
Jamie didn’t need to look at her hand to understand the silent inquiry, but she did, nonetheless. It gave her a great deal of pleasure to look at the ring Ryan had given her, and she found that she did so several times a day. "It was Ryan’s mother’s wedding band," she said softly, deciding to let her mother ask for further details if she wished them.
A look of pain crossed Catherine’s face, and she found that her voice cracked a bit as she asked, "Did you have some sort of ceremony?" She held her breath, hoping that her only child had not seen fit to exclude her parents from such a meaningful event in her life.
Jamie gave her a gentle smile, squeezing her mother’s hand as she sat back down beside her. "Not technically," she revealed. "We sat by the sea down in Pebble Beach and pledged our love to each other, but it was very impromptu. We would like to have a formal ceremony some day, but we decided that we’d wait until everyone we love was able to celebrate with us." She gave her mother a slow, sweet smile, adding another squeeze of her hand. "I wouldn’t dream of having a ceremony without you and Daddy and Poppa being there."
In a very unexpected move, Catherine took her daughter’s hand and lifted it to her lips, placing a gentle kiss there. For once in her life she decided to allow the feelings to come without concern, the tears sliding down her face with abandon. "I’m so happy that you decided to wait for us," she whispered on a ragged breath.
Jamie’s composure fractured at this display, and once again she sobbed in tandem with her mother. "We’ll wait, Mother. We’ll wait for you. I promise."
Jim rocked slowly in his massive chair, nodding to himself as Ryan sipped her brandy. "Jamie tells me that you’re on scholarship this year," he said conversationally.
"Yes, I am. I was lucky enough to make the varsity volleyball team, and they had a scholarship to award."
"You won’t be able to keep your job while you compete, will you, Ryan?" he asked in the same conversational tone.
DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! All of the alarms went off in her head, but she had to answer. "No, I was planning on quitting at the end of the summer."
"What will you do to pay for entertainment or to keep up your car? Will your father be able to support you?"
"No, sir. He won’t."
"Well then?" he asked in a silky tone.
Ryan just barely kept herself from wincing, the raw subject of money and the lack of it being the only discord she and Jamie had experienced thus far. "Jamie was going to pay for our living expenses during the school year."
"So you were going to live at my house and have my daughter support you?" he said slowly, as if he was trying to let the information sink in.
"Well, actually, I was going to offer to pay Cassie’s part of the rent since I’m taking her place in the house. I thought Jamie was going to mention that to you." She knew that this was stretching the truth quite a bit, but since it had been their intention to do so, it didn’t feel like a complete lie.
With what she thought was a glimmer of respect in his tone, he commented, "I think that would be best. It would set my mind at ease to know that you were paying your own way, Ryan."
She nodded briefly, regretfully acknowledging that she would be unable to allow Jamie to pay the rent for her, as they had agreed. "What are your plans after graduation?"
"I’m in the process of applying to graduate school." Although if I have to pay rent and expenses this year, I’ll have to live on bread and water.
"Really? In what field?"
"I’m applying to Ph.D. programs in chemistry, biology, and math as well as medical school."
"Very impressive," he said with a smile. "I trust that your grades are good?"
"Yes, sir. They’re excellent." That last sentence got out without conscious thought and she reminded herself, The worst thing you can do is brag or taunt him. Stick to the facts, damn it!!
"Are you planning on receiving a scholarship for these programs?"
"Possibly. I’m certainly going to try for one."
"And if you are not awarded a scholarship, what will you do?"
If the choice had been hers, she would have turned and run from this line of questions. But the choice, was most definitely, not hers. Taking in a breath, she looked him straight in the eye and replied, "Jamie has offered to lend me the money for tuition, books, and fees."
"Did you say, ‘lend’?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then why not take out a student loan? I’m sure you would qualify."
"I’m not comfortable weighing myself down with that much debt," she said, but wished that she could pull it back in immediately. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! she screamed to herself.
"If you borrow that money from Jamie, isn’t that still debt?" he asked pleasantly.
"Yes, sir."
"But I assume you would have a more generous repayment plan with my daughter," he said with the same pleasant smile.
I didn’t know that ‘repayment plan’ was a euphemism for stealing! Ryan shouted to herself. Aloud she answered, "Yes, sir. Jamie doesn’t want to put a due date on the note."
Switching gears for the fifth time he asked, "What kind of car do you drive, Ryan?"
"I don’t have a car, sir."
"No car? Have you ever had one?"
"No, sir."
"As much as you love them, that must be difficult."
"Not really. I love cars, but I can appreciate them from afar."
"Um hmmm," he said with that same deadly pleasant smile.
"Would I know anyone in your family, Ryan, from a club or organization?" he asked in that same pleasant, conversational tone. He seemed interested, but Ryan knew this was code for ‘Are you anybody?’
Deciding to play his game, she answered, "My father is in the Knights of Columbus," naming a Catholic fraternal organization. "Are you a member?"
"No, I’m afraid not," he said with a thin smile.
"We belong to the YMCA," she added helpfully.
He gave her a slightly puzzled glance, trying to figure out if she was just incredibly naïve or was trying to be obnoxious. But the big blue eyes that gazed back at him seemed completely innocent, so he let it go. Deciding that their chat had set the proper tone for their future interactions, he stood and said, "Well, I think I know you a bit better, Ryan. I appreciate your honesty. You really do seem like a fine young woman, and I hope that your future plans work out."
As long as they don’t include Jamie, she thought. She started to stand also, but he came around to the front of the desk and stood in front of her, making her feel not only small, but young. She looked up at him, seriously wondering if he had been trained in his intimidation tactics, or if they came naturally.
"Ryan," he said softly, sitting down on the corner of the desk. "I don’t want to see you hurt. I know that Jamie cares for you a great deal, but I’m convinced that she’s confused that caring with love. I urge you, for your own protection, to take things slowly and see what happens."
She nodded, showing that she had heard him. She was not going to dispute his opinion, since it was just his opinion. Deciding not to express her own thoughts, she offered a smile and he seemed to accept that as a reply. He stood and backed away from the desk, giving her room to move. She stood and paused for a moment, trying to get her sea legs after the uncharacteristically large amount of alcohol she had consumed. Oh, Jamie…please be sober, or we’re gonna have to stay over, and I don’t want to be introduced to the servant’s quarters tonight!
/> "There’s one thing I really need to apologize to you for, Mother," Jamie said after they had both composed themselves again.
"What’s that, Dear?"
"I’m so sorry that this is going to be all over the gossip mill down here. I know it was hard to hear this from Mrs. Martin, and I’m very sorry that it happened this way." She was genuinely sorry that the revelation had come from her mother’s closest friend, and her feelings showed clearly on her face.
A gentle laugh floated up from Catherine’s chest, and Jamie shot her a very puzzled look. "Oh, Dear, that’s sweet of you to be concerned, but don’t give it another thought."
"But Mrs. Martin…"
"Jamie, Laura and I have been close since you and Cassie were in grammar school. Do you really think that in all of that time I have not gotten a very clear impression of exactly who she is?"
"But…"
"Dear, Laura and I share a number of things…but she lives to gossip about others. She’s done it to me and to every other person we know. You are certainly not going to be immune from her wagging tongue."
"I don’t care about me, Mother, it’s you and your relationship with her that I’m concerned about."
Catherine let out another small laugh and patted Jamie’s knee. "If this is the worst thing she ever has to say about our family I’ll be eternally grateful," she said. "We have friends whose children have died from drug overdoses, who’ve spent time in alcohol and drug rehabilitation centers, who’ve gone through sizeable fortunes by the time they’re 25 years old. Having a daughter whose only detour from the usual path is to enter a loving relationship with another woman is a very, very small variation, Dear. Don’t give it another thought."
Jamie was stunned at her mother’s reaction. She was certain that the views of her friends would have been very important to her. With a shake of her head she realized that there were parts of her mother that had been very well hidden—and that she would have to work at to be able to access. "This is … surprising … yes … surprising," she managed to get out.
"The bottom line is this, Jamie. My social circle loves to hear a juicy bit of gossip. You will be the hot topic for a while, but as soon as a hotter topic arises—and believe me, it will—you and I will revert back to our usual anonymity."
"I just thought…" she said weakly, "that you might be treated differently by your friends…"
Another laugh startled her and Jamie gaped at her mother’s blithe response. "Have you really not experienced the almost total acceptance that our money buys, Dear?" Catherine’s head was cocked slightly, and a very amused grin covered her face. "No one on the Peninsula can afford to be on my bad side, Jamie. I’m on the board of nearly every important charity in the Bay Area. If any of these women want a dime—and believe me, they want far more than that--they know not to shun me."
Jamie nodded slowly, understanding that their wealth put them in a strange social position, but honestly never having thought about the automatic acceptance that it carried. The thought that most struck her, though, was the detachment that her mother exhibited towards the people Jamie thought were close friends to her. If she feels that way about Laura Martin, who is she close to?
She was startled from her musings by the sound of footsteps coming along the long hallway. Grasping her mother’s hand quickly, she gave it a squeeze for luck and took a deep breath, waiting to see the look on her partner’s face. When Ryan and her father entered the room, Jamie hopped to her feet, sliding an arm around Ryan’s waist, pleased to find her calm and collected. She asked quietly, "Are you all right, Honey?"
Ryan smiled down at her and gave her a small wink to show that she had emerged unscathed. "I think we’ll be off now, Catherine," Ryan said, extending her hand. Catherine returned her shake and got to her feet, looking surprisingly steady.
"Are you sober enough to drive?" Jim demanded, noticing that Ryan looked a little loose-limbed.
"I’m driving us both, Daddy," Jamie informed him. "Ryan’s brother dropped her off."
"Are you completely sober, Jamie?" he asked, stooping a little to look into her clear green eyes.
"Yes, I am. I had a couple of drinks before dinner, but that’s been hours. I’m sober now."
"As long as you’re sure, Honey. You know you can stay the night if you want." Jamie was touched by the offer, knowing that it would be hard for him to have her and Ryan sleeping together in his house.
"I’m fine, Daddy. I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine." She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him goodbye, and then gave her mother their standard kiss. Ryan shook both of their hands, and they escaped into the night without further incident.
Jim Evans stepped away from the front door and surveyed his domain, drawing comfort and reassurance from being surrounded by the evidence of the obvious rightness of his world. His wife was sitting on the couch, collapsed into its cushioned comfort, obviously tired from the events of the evening and from her trip. He crossed to her and placed a perfunctory kiss upon her drawn cheek. "I just realized that I didn’t even welcome you home." The semi-apology was extended readily, from years of practice. "This thing really caught me totally by surprise. I hardly know if I’m coming or going," he admitted, running a hand through his stylishly cut hair.
Catherine could plainly see the fatigue on his face; the fine lines that years of excessive sun exposure had etched were carved more deeply than normal. "That’s all right, Jim," she said easily. She was as skilled at accepting his excuses as he was at offering them. Her rigid self-control had been tenuously re-established, and any softening that she had shared with Jamie did not extend to her husband. "We did have a rather disruptive day."
He walked over to the well-stocked bar that rested on a beautifully crafted bird’s-eye maple cart. "Brandy?" he asked, holding the bottle aloft.
It isn’t only ‘sleep’ that knits up the raveled sleeve of care. "I’d kill for one," she replied, adding a gentle laugh at her exaggeration.
They sat beside one another on the sofa, quietly reflecting on the events of the day—together, yet separate. Letting out a ragged sigh, Catherine allowed a few tears to roll down her cheeks, only slightly irritated with herself for showing her feelings so openly. Unexpectedly, Jim scooted closer and wrapped his muscular arm around her shoulders, feeling a little surprised at how small she felt when she cuddled up against him. She hesitated just a moment, unaccustomed to receiving comfort from him, then rested her head on his shoulder, draping her other arm around his waist. After a few minutes, she felt more composed, and murmured, "I just wish it wasn’t true."
He was running his hand up and down her arm reassuringly, and when she expressed this wish, with its tacit acceptance of Jamie’s revelation, he stopped and grasped the painfully thin appendage, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It’s not, Cat." He rarely used this pet name anymore, and she gave a start when she realized she had not heard it in years.
He reacted to her gasp, assuming that she disputed his words, rather than his rare use of the diminutive. "She’s just going through a phase." His confidence was so complete that for a moment she doubted her own observations.
"But, Jim…"
"No buts, Catherine." Now his voice was firm, resolute. "No one knows Jamie better than you and me. We would have seen some sign of this before now. Ryan seems like a fine young woman—a good person to have as a friend--and I can see how Jamie would have relied on her to get through a tough time."
"But…"
"She’s not a lesbian, Catherine. Even Ryan admitted as much to me."
"She did?" Now she was truly confused. She had not had the opportunity to speak with Ryan alone, but none of this made sense, and the alcohol she had consumed did not make figuring it out any easier.
"Ryan is a lesbian—that much is clear. I think Jamie just has a bad case of hero worship, to tell you the truth. I think we need to just let this play itself out for a while."
Ah, ignore it and the problem will go away. Well, that is an approach that ha
s worked for him in the past. "Play itself out? I don’t think that is going to happen, Jim." She was certain that the determination she had seen in her daughter’s eyes was genuine, and the love they reflected when she spoke of Ryan could not be denied.
"I know my daughter, Catherine. This is a crush that will resolve itself. We just need to be patient with Jamie until she comes to her senses. Trust me."
Trust. Such a simple word for such an important thing. She could tell that Jamie and Ryan shared it. With a weary sigh she dropped her head again, relaxing into her husband’s embrace. I might not know Jamie as well as you think you do, she thought, but I know her well enough to know that she’s irrevocably in love with Ryan. We may as well get used to the idea, Jim, because that young woman is here to stay.
"So, what do you think, Tiger?" The question was deliberately open-ended, but Jamie was anxious to hear Ryan’s assessment if she chose to share it. Jamie had dropped the top of the Boxster, hoping the brisk wind would keep her alert as well as help to sober Ryan up. Her partner wasn’t really drunk, but she was tipsier than Jamie had ever seen her. They were cruising along 101, the traffic quite light on this Saturday night.
"I thought the Irish were the drinkers," Ryan said slowly, with a rather hazy gaze. "Your parents sure don’t like to see the bottom of a glass."
Jamie nodded, knowing that Ryan was not trying to be unkind, but her words still stung a bit. Both of her parents, but particularly her mother, had an enormous capacity for alcohol, and she had often wondered if she should make a comment to either of them about their drinking.
"Other than the profusion of alcohol, what did you think?" Jamie repeated, hinting at her interest in the content of Ryan's conversation with her father.
Ryan tilted her head up to stare at the murky gray/black sky. There were no stars visible, not an uncommon occurrence in the Bay Area. "I think," she drawled, "that we’ve got our work cut out with your dad. He seems to be pretty focused on the lesbian label," she revealed.
Disclosures - SF4 Page 42
