Let's Move On (The New Pioneers Book 4)

by Deborah Nam-Krane

  She pulled him into their bedroom. "If you’re going to stay, then you have to stay for real this time."

  Mitch embraced his wife and kissed her. "I have no idea how I’d find the strength to leave," he said before he closed their door.

  CHAPTER 22

  Michael woke up at seven. He spent much longer in the shower and in front of the mirror than he usually did. He wished he’d said later so he could get a haircut. He picked out his clothes and even ironed them. On the way he picked up some bagels, then drove headed over to Emily’s.

  He parked right in front of Emily’s house at eight forty-five. He knocked, but no one answered. He tried the door and found it open.

  He could hear shouting as soon as he walked in. "How dare you?" he heard Emily shout.

  "You’re overreacting," Miranda said in a panicked, desperate tone.

  Michael ran up the stairs. "You!" Emily said as soon as she saw him. She had tears in her eyes and she was shaking. "What gave you the right? Do you have any decency at all?"

  "Emily, just calm down," Mitch said. Both he and Emily were in their pajamas.

  "Oh, why am I not surprised?" Emily said scornfully.

  Michael came to stand next to Miranda. "I think Miranda’s old enough to choose where she lives at this point, don’t you?"

  "Where she lives?" Emily repeated incredulously. "You’re right. Miranda’s a big girl, and old enough to make her own mistakes. I cannot say that, unfortunately, for my daughter!"

  "Emily, do you think I would let—"

  "I think you and Richard and everyone else are used to letting him get away with a lot, and it’s crazy." She turned on Michael, and he actually stepped back. "I don’t care when your parents died, I don’t care how many times you’ve been shot, I don’t care if you have all kinds of money to throw around. You stay away from my daughter. I don’t care if you have Alex Sheldon or Lucy Bartolome or the Mayor or whomever in your back pocket, I will kill you if you come near her again!"

  Miranda turned to Michael, mortified. "Honey, please wait for me downstairs."

  Michael looked at Miranda’s pale face. "I’m not leaving you."

  "Please," she said, her voice quivering. "I’ll be fine."

  Mitch walked over and tapped Michael’s shoulder. "Come on, let’s go." Michael glared at Emily, then kissed Miranda on the forehead before he followed Mitch downstairs.

  Mitch and Michael stood on the porch. Michael could still hear shouting. "What the Hell?"

  Mitch put his hands in his pockets and sighed. "Hellie told us this morning about getting ice cream and going to the playground with Randy’s really nice friend." He rocked back and forth. "She said you’re very pretty, by the way."

  "Gee thanks. And when did your wife lose it on mine?"

  "About ten minutes before you came."

  "Do you think I was going to—"

  "Do you think you’d still be standing if I did?"

  Miranda came down two minutes later. Her eyes were red, and her face was white. She couldn’t look at Michael. She turned to Mitch, trying to smile. "I’m going to come and pick up my stuff tomorrow, alright? While you guys are all out."

  Mitch swallowed. "Miranda, let me talk to her—"

  "Mitch," she said, putting her hand on his arm, "don’t overextend your credit, okay?" He put his hand on hers. He was trying not to cry too. "Because we’ve been working on this a long time, haven’t we?"

  Mitch thought about his crazy day yesterday. "Things would have been a lot different if I’d just listened to you, you know?"

  "Then listen to me now, okay?"

  "I don’t know sweetie—I think I owe you a few times over."

  Miranda shook her head. "Just tell Zainab I’ll call her. And—" she took a deep breath. "Tell Hellie I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye. I’ll see her later."

  "Of course. Any time." Mitch gave her a hug.

  She turned to Michael. "Okay," she said, blinking away her tears and taking his hand. "Let’s go."

  "Are you sure?"

  She nodded. "Yeah, I’m sure. Let’s just go, okay?"

  They got in the car. Miranda waved to Mitch, then looked at her lap as they drove off.

  Michael took her hand at the first stop light. "Do you want to talk?"

  She shook her head. "Not right now, thanks."

  He gestured at the bag on the back seat. "I got some bagels."

  She smiled. "Everything bagel with veggie cream cheese?"

  "Of course." He rubbed her chin, which she was trying hard to stop from quivering. "But I don’t think you’re hungry now."

  "Sorry."

  "No worries." He teared up too. "So what do you want to do?"

  She looked up and smiled. "I want to go see a movie. A really, really bad one."

  "Let’s see two."

  ~~~

  Zainab was waiting for Robert in the same diner they’d met in a few weeks before. She smiled when he came in, but he didn’t.

  She watched him sit down. "What’s wrong?"

  "You called me. I’m thinking that can’t be a good sign."

  "I didn’t think we were doing good and bad."

  "Sorry—it is my trade."

  "Well, I still don’t know if that’s what we’re about, but the one thing I do know that really works for us is being honest. And that’s why I called you."

  Robert narrowed his eyes. "Define honesty."

  Zainab shrugged. "I guess that's a loaded term. For some people, it means the whole shooting match—the past, the present, the future. No secrets."

  "You don’t have any secrets, do you?"

  "I think I have one or two, but they’re not important, I don’t think."

  Robert sighed. "So what does honesty mean to you?"

  "Being real about the moment. Not having to pretend that things are just the way you’d need them to be in order to be comfortable. Accepting what is, right then. Living with it, or not."

  "Is that what we’ve been doing?"

  "That’s what I’ve been doing," she said gently. "And that’s what makes it so nice. Special. Something I like."

  "Because I’ve been something that you can live with?"

  "That isn’t supposed to be a bad thing."

  "Sorry, it just makes me sound like a piece of furniture."

  "Then I said it wrong. Because it’s more than that. If I didn’t like you, I could walk away. No strings here, I don’t think. But I haven’t."

  "You do like me?"

  "I do like you, Robert Teague."

  He looked down. "So what did you need to tell me then?"

  "I saw Richard yesterday."

  "Was this the first time you saw Richard since you started seeing me?"

  "No, it wasn’t. And it wasn’t even the first time I saw him alone."

  "Did he kiss you?"

  "Yes, and I kissed him back."

  "Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

  "No. He wants me back."

  Robert looked up, trying to be nonchalant. "Is that your news? Of course he wants you back. He never wanted you to leave." He scowled just a little bit. "He’s just like his mother, and he’s just like his uncle. He wants to eat his cake, and then have it there for him too."

  She lost her smile. That wasn’t Richard at all, and it bothered her that Robert would think that. The implication of what that would mean bothered her as well. "I think it’s more than that," she said after a moment.

  "Is that what you want?" His face and voice were calm, but Zainab appreciated how much courage the question required.

  "I don’t know," she said. She took a deep breath. "You see, I think I’m the one who likes the cake. I like what we have, and I like having Richard in my life. Maybe I was fooling myself to think that I could have both. After seeing Richard yesterday, I know I have to choose. Neither of you could live with being just friends, right? That’s not what we are, although it is special to me. And that’s not what he wants. I can either have you, or I can have him." />
  "Is this the part where I plead my case? Is this the part where I prove myself to you?"

  "No," she said, starting to be confused. How had this gone so wrong? "I’m telling you...because I don’t want to surprise you because it wouldn’t be fair." She held out her hand as if asking a question. "Or maybe it would be. Maybe we could stop just as we started. Maybe it’s foolish to think you’d require more."

  His eyes grew hard. "It sounds like you already made your decision."

  "I haven’t. I don’t know."

  "Do you think you’re being fair?"

  "Am I asking you to take me to bed? Am I asking you to prove yourself? Honestly, I really thought we could talk." Now she was making her decision. "And I guess that was foolish."

  He took a deep breath and looked at his hands. "No, I’m the one being foolish. You’re being mature and responsible and all of those things that you should be. I’m being a teenager. No, I’m being a child who doesn’t want to lose his favorite toy."

  "Robert, I’m not a toy."

  "I know that. I’m sorry that’s how I’m acting." He needed to choose his next words very carefully. "I’m sorry. Work’s been crazy. The Bartolome trial—it’s going to be very difficult."

  "Trial?" Zainab’s ears perked up. "I thought he was going to settle."

  "There’s a reason Tom’s been making noises about his money, and it’s not just to keep it away from his sister and his daughter. Only a very good lawyer is going to get him anywhere near out of this, and they cost money."

  "But he doesn’t have it," Zainab said, although she could feel herself growing cold.

  "No, but his case has attracted enough interest that someone is willing to represent him—against the murder charge, and in order to get the money."

  "My God," Zainab said, sitting back. "I had no idea. Jessie didn’t say anything. Richard didn’t say anything."

  "They don’t know yet," Robert said calmly.

  Zainab looked at him very closely now. "Why is that your problem?"

  Robert looked contrite. "As you know, I bent a lot of rules and cut a lot of corners to make this arrest."

  "And Michael, of all people, was the one who really put it together."

  "Yet another complication. Trust me, he’s not the best witness to put on the stand. Richard and Jessie are only slightly better."

  "What about Miranda? I think she can testify to having a gun in her back."

  "Between her relationships with Michael Abbot and Alex Sheldon, Miranda is also going to be a good defense attorney’s dream."

  "And you’re tainted too."

  "Looks like we might have a little bit of a problem. I think we could get a conviction, but my testimony might mean my job."

  The other shoe. "What a choice, your job—or your duty."

  "I guess that’s one way of looking at it. But, you know, I have actually done a few things I’m proud of since I came on."

  Zainab felt warm. She didn’t want to ask but this wasn’t going to end until she did. "Like what?"

  "There’s a man in Virginia who is sitting in prison right now. Arrested in the last two weeks."

  "Now who might that be?"

  "Someone who came to my attention last month," Robert said, holding her eyes. "Someone who should be watched, because he wasn’t the kind of person we usually like to look at." Robert sat back. "Clean cut. Reasonably good family. Diplomatic. Knows how to work people."

  Zainab felt the floor fall out beneath her. "For what?"

  "Date rape. Apparently, it was really easy to pick him out of a lineup—"

  Zainab stood up and grabbed her coat. "You had no right, Robert."

  He didn’t say anything as she put on her coat and walked away. "Just let me know," he said calmly as she turned her back. "What do you want me to do about this trial?"

  ~~~

  Michael and Miranda left the movie theater at three. Miranda had laughed, and Michael thought he felt a few of her tears escape while she was resting on his shoulder. She seemed calmer now, but no less sad.

  They went to a café for a late lunch. She ordered tea and toast. "You have to eat," he scolded gently. "You never eat enough."

  "I promise, I’ll eat dinner," she said with a smile. Then she laughed. "You’re so...neat today."

  "I figured I should practice. You know, set a good example."

  She smiled, but as she did, a tear trickled down her cheek. He brushed it away with his fingertip, but didn’t say anything.

  "Do you want to tell me now?" he said gently.

  "Was there some part you think you couldn’t guess?"

  "Yeah. The part where she doesn’t realize how much you love that child, and that you wouldn’t let anything happen to her."

  "That’s the way people are around their children, I think. Protect them from everything."

  "Do you think—"

  "I want you to be the father of my children. Do you think I’d want that if I thought you were capable of what Emily thinks?"

  "The thought never crossed your mind? Not after what my grandfather did, what happened with Jessie—"

  She shook her head, and he knew she meant it. "Not once."

  Michael took her home an hour later. She laughed when she walked in. "It’s so clean."

  "More practice."

  "It’s a losing battle, you know." She was smiling, but he saw that she was fighting back tears. "Once they can sit up, they like to throw their toys everywhere—everything everywhere." She took a deep breath. "But only if they’re really smart."

  He embraced her and she sobbed a little bit. "I think I remember some of the messes Jessie used to make."

  "There you go."

  Miranda let him kiss her, then put her head on his chest. He stroked her hair and didn’t say a word, but he could feel how broken her heart was.

  She looked up a minute later. "I think I want dinner now."

  Forty minutes later, Miranda looked at her plate, then at Michael. "This is different."

  Michael had made mashed sweet potatoes, with toasted almonds and pumpkin seeds, and a side of broccoli. "You don’t like sweet potatoes?" he asked nervously.

  "I do, actually," she said slowly. "But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat one. I’m also pretty sure I’ve never seen you make a meal that didn’t have beef in it one way or another."

  "Well," Michael said, looking at his plate, "animal protein is sort of controversial as far as how it might affect... certain things."

  "Like...?"

  "Motility."

  "Excuse me?"

  Michael squirmed. "You know, how quickly—things move."

  Miranda took a bite of her sweet potato. It was very good. "And the both of us," Michael said, still not looking at her, "have to eat more fruits and vegetables—you know, just to be sure."

  "Sure."

  "So for dessert I thought we’d have some berries."

  "Berries?"

  "With frozen yogurt."

  "Not ice cream?"

  "See, a lot of people feel that you want full-fat dairy, but you want to minimize the fat itself, so I thought that would be a good compromise."

  Miranda had to stop chewing for a minute so she wouldn’t choke on her laughter. She finally swallowed. "Yeah, that sounds reasonable."

  "And I’m going to have an espresso, but you’re going to have decaf from now on."

  "Because—?"

  "Caffeine is really not good for you, but it might sort of be good for me."

  "Motility?" she asked, stabbing her broccoli.

  "Um, yeah." He finally looked up to see her grinning at him. "What?"

  "Nothing," she said, then dutifully ate her dinner.

  An hour later, they were in his bed, half-undressed and kissing. He pulled up and held her hands. "We don’t have to tonight."

  She smiled sadly. "You went to a lot of trouble in the kitchen, it would seem wrong to let that go to waste."

  He wrinkled his nose. "Maybe, but tomorrow I was p
lanning on oysters anyway."

  She laughed, and kissed him. "Then I would love it if you would hold me tonight."

  He kissed her gently. "It will be my pleasure."

  They changed into his pajamas, then talked a little bit about the movies they saw, then the playground the day before. Miranda starting talking, for no apparent reason, about the first time she gave Hellie a bath. "Oh, never mind," she said and looked away.

  "Tell me," he said, hugging her. "I’ll need to figure it out soon enough, right?"

  She stroked his chest. "I guess, but we can do it differently. I mean, well, Emily had brought Hellie over to Richard’s place when she was about five months old. Mitch was studying, and Richard was working on the first prototype. So it was just us girls. And then Hellie dumped all of her food all over herself, and we had to give her a bath. But she didn’t have her little bath tub, so we had to use the kitchen sink. And then Jessie and Zainab took turns holding onto her while Emily and I scrubbed out the sink, so they needed a shower when we were done too.

  "And Hellie was just so cute when she was standing up in the sink. She had this big, little belly and these skinny little legs. She looked at all of us and she laughed like it was the funniest thing. And when we wet her hair it got all curly. Then Jessie said she looked like me a little bit, and Hellie clapped." Michael felt a tear on his chest. "I don’t know why I told you that."

  "It’s okay, honey. I’m not so jealous that I can’t hear about how much you love her."

  "I always knew there was hope for you."

  "What were you and Mitch talking about? What did he mean about owing you?"

  She stiffened. "Nothing."

  "I know you had that little reception for them, but I got the impression he meant something else."

  "It’s—just leave it alone."

  "Please honey—tell me so I can understand."

  She hugged him. "I met Mitch at the Hillel at the University, maybe my only little refuge that you didn’t penetrate."

  "Well," Michael said thoughtfully, "I knew you went there, but there weren’t enough people there for me to easily hide."

  "I’ll keep that in mind."

  "But you met Mitch—"

  "I was helping with some of the events, and I needed to go in. And then one Saturday morning I saw this guy who was sitting in the sanctuary waiting to talk to the rabbi. Only he couldn’t quite get up the courage to do it. And he was just—he was in turmoil. It was pretty obvious why, but I made him go into it anyway. He was giving me all this nonsense about going with the flow, but I could tell." She sighed. "And I sort of thought he was a big, fat fool, but I secretly envied whomever it was he was talking about, because I could tell that he was really, really in love with her, and I wished that someone would love me like that." She squeezed Michael’s hand, and he smiled.