Intentions - SF9

by Meagher, Susan X

  Jesus Christ! he cried, feeling irrationally angry at witnessing the tableaux. She's taken my daughter, now she's got my wife! Thank God we don't have a dog! He shook his head slowly, carefully observing the woman as she slept. I don't understand the attraction, he decided. Yes, she's pretty, but I don't think that's it. It's something more than that, he knew, although he couldn't get a handle on it. She has potential, but no track record. Jack was a much surer bet. He's definitely going somewhere. Ryan might be content to just run around playing sports; she might turn into another freeloader like Catherine's cousins. But even as he thought this, he knew it wasn't true. His investigation had showed a very determined, very focused young woman about whom very few people had a bad word.

  Well, he thought as he slowly trudged upstairs, I doubt that I'll have the chance to find out what her allure is. I'm sure that I've finally pushed Jamie over the edge this time.

  He gathered his things, packing quickly, then put on a fresh set of clothes, throwing his bloodstained shoes and slacks into the trash bin. When he was ready to leave, he removed a notepad from his briefcase and sat down to write.

  You were all sleeping so soundly that I thought it best to leave you alone. I'm fine-nothing that a few dozen stitches couldn't mend. I'm going to work a bit at the office, and then go home as planned on Sunday evening.

  I would apologize, but there comes a point at which even I have to acknowledge that my words mean little. I guess I'm just too set in my ways to even try to change. I truly wish that I wasn't so angry and suspicious of people-it just seems second nature to me now, and I don't have a clue how to stop.

  I'm sorry for being such an abject failure as a father, Jamie. You deserve so much more-I hope that Martin can serve in that role for you.

  I'm heartsick over how this weekend turned out, but I know it's too late to repair the damage I've done. For what it's worth, I am very sorry. I hope...well, I suppose my hopes and wishes won't come true-but it's no one's fault but my own.

  He didn't sign the note, not having a clue how to refer to himself. He was addressing all three of the women who slept on the couches, but his role was so nebulous that he was utterly confused. No longer a husband, no longer a father...who was he? Placing the note on the writing table near the front door, he hefted his bag onto his shoulder, blew a kiss to the women who meant more to him than he could fathom, and left quietly, fully expecting this visit to be his last.

  The phone rang at four, and Ryan jerked awake, slipping off the couch when Catherine sat up halfway, a dazed expression on her face. Jamie, of course, didn't flinch, sleeping away contentedly on the other couch. "Hello?" Ryan managed to say, fighting with the cobwebs that still choked her mind.

  "Mrs. Evans?" a brusque voice asked.

  "No, but I can take a message for her. Can I help you?" The phone was on the writing table, and as Ryan spoke she scanned the note that Jim had left.

  "This is Sergeant Hallihan of the Hillsboro Police Department. I wanted to give her an update on our search for her husband."

  "Oh," Ryan said, thinking quickly. "Actually, Mr. Evans just got in contact with us. He seems fine, officer, so you needn't continue the search."

  "All right, Ma'am," he said, a little warily. "I'd prefer to speak with the senator, just for our records. We like to have a statement from the missing person before we close our files."

  "I don't think he's reachable right now," Ryan said. "Give me your name and number, and I'll have him call you when he's in contact again."

  The officer did as requested and hung up after obtaining similar information from Ryan.

  Catherine was running her hands through her hair, trying to organize her thoughts, when there was a sharp rap on the front door. "Now what?" Ryan moaned, going to the door to open the tiny window that allowed a view of guests. "Yes?" she asked the young man who stood on the steps.

  "Steven Hawkins," he said. "San Francisco Chronicle. I'm here investigating the missing persons report filed on Senator Evans earlier this evening. Will you comment for the record?"

  "Sure," Ryan said, hoping to nip this in the bud. She thought quickly, deciding to give the bare bones of the incident just to appear like they had nothing to hide. "The senator cut his hand on a glass earlier this evening. It was in the middle of the night, and he thoughtfully didn't want to wake his family up to drive him to the hospital. He obviously thought he'd return before anyone woke, but that wasn't the case. His wife was alerted to the blood in the kitchen, and she wisely thought to call the police in case he was disoriented from blood loss."

  "Where is the senator now? What hospital did he go to?"

  "He's resting now," Ryan said, assuming that he was resting somewhere...just not in his bed upstairs. "His choice of hospitals is a private matter for the moment, but I'm certain that he will authorize the doctor who attended him to release a statement. Anything else?"

  "Can you comment on the reports that there was a rather wild party at this address earlier in the evening?" he asked, obviously having been told this by a disgruntled neighbor-made more disgruntled by being awakened at four a.m. for a comment. "Was the senator's injury connected to the party?"

  Ryan smiled through the tiny opening and said, "His daughter is a senior in college. The party was just a few of her friends gathered for dinner. It would hardly qualify as wild, I assure you. The guests had been gone for hours when the senator cut his hand. No connection whatsoever."

  "All right," he said thoughtfully, glad that he could wrap this one up and get back to his desk. "Any further comment?"

  "No. That's the whole story," she assured him. Or the whole of the story that you're going to get!

  "Who are you, ma'am? You didn't identify yourself."

  "You may attribute my comments to an unnamed family spokesperson," she smiled, having always wanted to attach that moniker to herself.

  As Ryan returned to the living room, Catherine was beaming a grin at her. "You do that very well, Ryan. Have you ever thought of a career as a public relations specialist?"

  "I'm Irish," she smiled. "Telling tales is our birthright!"

  Saturday morning found Jamie wrapped around Ryan's body, snug in her childhood bed. She opened her eyes and tried to figure out how they had gotten there, finally deciding that it wasn't really important-they were there now, and that's all that mattered.

  Ryan felt her move and lazily commented, "Maybe I do want you to take off a few pounds."

  Jamie smiled as she understood the reference. "Had to carry me again, huh, Tough Stuff?"

  "Either that or leave you on the couch, and that's just not acceptable."

  Jamie sat up, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "What happened, Honey? Did Daddy come home?"

  "Yeah. We were all asleep on the couch, and he came in and went out again. He left a note," Ryan said.

  "Oh, please! He took off?"

  "Yep. Hard to tell if he was mad at us or just himself. It sounded like he was pretty depressed," Ryan admitted.

  "What am I going to do with that man?" the smaller woman moaned, falling back to the bed heavily.

  "He is pretty high maintenance," Ryan agreed. "We need to get in touch with him at some point. A reporter came to the house and wanted details. I placated him, but your dad needs to issue a statement of some sort."

  "Jesus! It's not like things weren't bad enough! Now we have reporters interested in our little drama?"

  "Yep. Never a dull moment with you people. I've got 30 people in my family, and we have less going on than your little threesome does," she chuckled.

  "Well, let's go see what awaits us today," Jamie said, getting to her feet.

  "Hopefully nothing," Ryan said, knowing that the odds of that were unlikely.

  Their attempts to contact Jim were fruitless, but they did leave messages at his apartment in Washington and the one in San Francisco, where they assumed he'd spent the remainder of the night.

  Jamie had to get to the golf course, so she and Ryan took off, Jordan
and Mia still sound asleep-or not, depending on the moment.

  Catherine stayed behind for a while, finally deciding to use all of her resources to track down her elusive husband. It took quite a few calls, but she finally found someone in his senate office who was working on Saturday. They provided her with several numbers, and she finally reached his secretary at home. The efficient woman was able to provide his new cell phone number.

  Dialing the number, Catherine smiled to herself when Jim answered on the first ring. "You can run, but you can't hide," she said in a gently mocking tone.

  "Oh...hello, Catherine," he said, sounding more wary than she could ever remember.

  "What's going on, Jim? Why the need to play hide and go seek?"

  "I'm ah...I'm at work, Catherine. I have some things that I have to clean up here."

  "Uh-huh," she said calmly, not buying his story for an instant. "We're concerned about you, Jim. Really."

  "I've...I've caused enough harm for one weekend, Cat," he said softly. "Let's just move on, shall we?"

  "Jim, please don't be so melodramatic. This was a small incident...don't act like it's fatal."

  "I don't think I can do it, Catherine. I just don't think I can change." He sounded totally defeated and very sorry for himself, neither trait particularly appealing.

  "Maybe you'll feel better after you talk to Jamie," Catherine offered. "She wants to speak with you, you know."

  "I'll call her when I get back to Washington," he said, obviously trying to evade the issue. "I've got a lot to take care of today, and I'm really struggling with these damn pain pills."

  Ahh, that's probably why he seems so depressed. "Did you get proper medical care, Jim?"

  "I'm not sure, to tell you the truth. I'm going to find a specialist in DC to have it checked out."

  "You do that, Dear," she said, surprised that she had used that term for him. "I assume you know that the newspapers picked up on the story," she said, hoping that he wasn't too angry with her for getting the police involved.

  "Yes. I was on the other line with my press secretary when you called. Public life sucks," he groused, using a term that she had never heard him utter before.

  "You'll get through it, Jim. You always do," she reminded him.

  He sighed, his voice a little slower and his mind a little less sharp than usual. "How do you get through it, Cat?" he asked softly. "Have you ever seen them...together?"

  It took her a second, but she finally understood his question. "I've had a couple of close encounters, Honey. I've learned my lesson now. When we're in the house together it would take an act of God to get me to leave my room once I've announced I'm going to bed. A pair of earplugs is also not a bad idea," she laughed, hoping to lighten the tone of the conversation.

  "I don't think I can ever get to where you are with this," he said, the sadness flowing through the phone lines. "I just don't think I can."

  "Honey, you're tired, and you're not yourself when you're taking pain medication. Give it some time, Jim. I think you did very well this weekend, to tell you the truth. Don't give up."

  "Thanks for saying so, Cat, but I think you're being too generous. I think I've blown it for good this time."

  She found herself wanting to reassure him, but it was obvious that he wasn't in a receptive mood. "I don't think so, Jim," she said, "but we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"

  "Yes. That's what we'll have to do," he agreed, his voice sounding raspy and full of dread.

  In retrospect, she wasn't sure why she said it, but Catherine heard herself say, "It's possible to severely disappoint people and still have them forgive you and want you in their lives, Jim. Don't give up hope...for either Jamie or me."

  There was absolute silence coming from his end, lasting a good minute. "Do...do you mean that?" he whispered.

  She sighed heavily and said, "I honestly don't know what I mean, Jim, but I certainly haven't done anything about moving forward with the divorce. There must be a reason that I haven't wanted to do so."

  "Catherine...Cat...if there's anything that I can do..."

  "No, Jim, really. There's nothing you can do right now. Let's just take it slow and see how things develop."

  "Okay, okay," he said, an eager tone replacing the morose one of moments earlier. "I'll um...wait to hear from you, Catherine. I look forward to it."

  "Goodbye, Jim. Take care of your hand. I'll call you in a few days to see how you're faring."

  "Excellent!" he said enthusiastically. "I'll be waiting for your call."

  Well, wasn't that odd? Catherine thought as she hung up. I swear don't have a clue what will come out of my mouth next!

  When they all returned from the golf course on Saturday afternoon, Jordan and Mia were gone. They'd left a nice note, thanking Catherine for her hospitality and wishing Jamie good luck in the remaining match. "They seem like they've become good friends," Catherine commented.

  "Oh yes, they're close all right," Jamie agreed. "They don't have much in common, but they hit it off very quickly." She omitted just how quickly or how deeply their relationship had developed, knowing that Mia would not appreciate having her secret revealed.

  "I'm really glad that you and Mia have stayed such close friends," Catherine said. "She seems very fond of Ryan, too."

  "Well, that's an entrance requirement for any of my friends, but it's really nice how well we all get along. I think Mia genuinely likes Ryan."

  "I always thought she had good taste," Catherine smiled. "Now I'm sure of it."

  Waking early on Sunday morning, Jamie stretched and cuddled up to her partner, feeling immensely glad that her tee time wasn't until eleven.

  "You awake, Love?" she asked, not able to see Ryan's face.

  "Umm-hmm. Have been for a while. You just keep lulling me back to sleep," Ryan yawned.

  "Wanna have a nice big breakfast with me? I don't have to be at the course until ten."

  "Yep. Sounds great," Ryan agreed. "Are you ready for another round today? Three days in a row would be a lot for me."

  Rolling over to lie on her back, Jamie looked at her partner carefully and asked, "Do you get any pleasure out of playing golf?"

  "Yeah, I do," Ryan said, sounding unconvincing. "I mean, I would never play alone, but I like to play with you or with my brothers. It's kinda like bowling for me. It's not something I love, and it certainly doesn't seem like exercise. Although I guess it's superior to bowling since it's a decent way to spend time outside."

  "So, you don't think you'll ever get the golf bug, huh?" Jamie asked, a little wistfully.

  "No. Don't think so, Babe. It's a little slow-paced for me, and I kinda suck at it, which always hinders my enjoyment." She was chuckling gently, but Jamie knew that she was serious.

  "I've been a little surprised that you haven't gotten better at it," she admitted. "I think your height is actually part of the problem."

  "Yeah...that makes sense. I think I'd be okay if I'd started young, but I've got a lot of body flying around during that swing. Lot's of things can go wrong. I actually remind myself of Michael Jordan when I play. He's obviously a talented athlete, but he'll never be great at golf. Too tall."

  "Things do tend to go pretty wrong for you," Jamie laughed, a small part of her quite happy that she could so thoroughly kick Ryan's butt at something.

  "You know, I don't generally handle being humiliated very well," Ryan mused. "I think you should prop up my self-esteem a little before we leave." The blue eyes were twinkling, and Jamie had a very good idea where this train of thought was heading.

  She rolled onto her side again and snuggled up tight to Ryan's long body. "How can I help improve your poor self-esteem?" she whispered.

  "Mmm, let me think," Ryan murmured, grasping Jamie's hand and slowly trailing it down her body. "Maybe you should remind me that being tall and having long arms can come in handy sometimes. Like this," she said, wrapping her arms around Jamie from behind and slipping a hand into a warm, humid place. "I couldn'
t do that if I wasn't blessed with a large wing span."

  As her right leg lifted to allow for better access, Jamie sighed softly, extremely pleased that her lover's reach equaled her grasp. "You have beautiful wings," she whispered thrusting her hips against the soft curves that she nestled against.

  Turning to face Jamie fully, Ryan enveloped her in a warm embrace and promised, "Wait until my beak starts sipping your nectar. That's when my talents really shine."

  The entire immediate O'Flaherty family, along with a smattering of cousins, showed up to watch the team championship on Sunday. Catherine and Maeve walked along at the back of the large group, chatting quietly, more about the plans for the wedding than the golf, but their main purpose-to show support for Jamie-was accomplished perfectly.

  Cal did not prevail on this dry, warm day, but Jamie wasn't terribly disappointed. She didn't have the same drive to win that Ryan did, usually being happy as long as she put forth her best efforts. She had played well, shooting a 71 on the difficult course, and she was happy with the play of her teammates against a team that was superior in every way.

  Even though Catherine offered to host another dinner, the family decided to head home after the match, not wanting to get stuck in the usual Sunday night crawl along 101.

  Jamie and Ryan decided to head home also, and after stopping in Hillsborough to pack up their things, they returned to 101 and started for home. As they drew near the airport, Ryan turned and asked, "What time was your dad's flight out tonight?"

  "Mmm...I think around five," Jamie mused. "He didn't want to get back to Washington too late. Why?"

  "Wanna take a chance and see if we can find him? I bet you'd feel better if you could see him in person before he leaves." She paused a second and added, "I know he'd feel better." Jamie tilted her head and stared at her partner for a long while, with Ryan finally turning to give her a questioning look. "What?" the dark haired woman asked.