Westerman screamed that he had tried to kill the dog, and ran shrieking into the kitchen in tears with the dog in her arms, and no apology to Fiona, who was bleeding profusely from a nasty little wound.
John put a wet napkin on it, and sat her down. Fiona was shaking, and felt utterly ridiculous for the mess she was making. But her ankle wouldn't stop bleeding, as John put pressure on the wound, and then looked at her miserably as he helped her hobble into the kitchen, and shouted a warning to Mrs. Westerman to lock up the dog. But she had already retreated to her room with Fifi. They could hear the dog barking furiously through the door. All John wanted to do was get the hell out, and go home with Fiona, but he knew he had to stay till the girls went back to school at least. He had never been through anything like this. He studied her ankle, as she sat on the kitchen counter, with her foot in the sink, and he looked at her with embarrassment and grief.
“I hate to say it, Fiona, but I think you need stitches.”
“Don't worry about it,” she said calmly, wanting to make the horror of the evening better for him, “these things happen.”
“Only in horror movies,” he said grimly. He tied a kitchen towel around her leg, helped her off the counter, and walked her out of the apartment gingerly, as they both watched the blood stain the towel quickly. It had already soaked through by the time they hailed a cab, and blood was dripping down her foot as John carried her into the hospital and deposited her in the emergency room with a look of disbelief.
When the doctor on duty examined her finally, he said it was a deep wound, and she needed stitches. He administered a local anesthetic and sewed her up, gave her a tetanus shot, since she hadn't had one in years, and then gave her antibiotics and painkillers to take home with her. She was looking a little green around the gills by then. She hadn't eaten since breakfast, and it had been a rough evening. She got dizzy on the way out, and had to sit down for a minute.
“I'm sorry I'm such a wimp,” she apologized, “it's really nothing.” She tried to make light of it for him, but she was feeling awful. The anesthetic was wearing off, her ankle was killing her, and the little beast had bitten as hard as it could, nearly as hard as his daughters. The dog was their alter ego—and Mrs. Westerman's as well.
“Nothing? My daughters were horrible, the housekeeper was unthinkable, and my dog attacked you, and you just had eight stitches and a tetanus shot. What the hell do you mean, nothing?” He was furious, and didn't know who to take it out on. “I'm taking you home,” he said miserably, and told her to stay where she was till he found a cab. He was back five minutes later, and carried her out, and when he got her home, he undressed her, put her to bed, gave her her medicine, and propped her foot up on a pillow. He went downstairs to get them both something to eat and make her a cup of tea, and when he came upstairs with a tray, she already looked better, and he made a decision. He told her he had, and she looked terrified as she waited to hear it. After a night like that, he could only have come to a single conclusion, that having Fiona in his life was just too difficult for him. She sat stoically while he gathered his thoughts and looked at the woman he had fallen in love with in Paris, or even before that. It had been love at first sight for him.
“Fiona, if you'll have me, I'd like to move in with you this weekend, after I take Courtenay back to Princeton. Hilary is leaving Friday night for Brown. I'm not staying in the apartment with that woman. There's no reason for me to be there. I want to be here with you.” He looked down at the sleeping bulldog, who had barely stirred when they got home, and smiled. “And Sir Winston. The girls will just have to get used to it. I'll go home when they come for holidays or weekends. And eventually, I hope you'll come with me. We'll get you shin guards and a stun gun to use on Mrs. Westerman and the dog. Will you have me?” he asked almost humbly, and she burst into tears. She had been so sure he was about to tell her it was over, and she didn't want to lose him. She was just so sorry that his daughters hated her. The housekeeper was another story, and the dog was a little beast. But she was truly upset about his children.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” she asked, looking worried.
“Yes, I am,” he said firmly. He had no qualms about it. And he had never been as angry at his children, or as disappointed.
She couldn't stop crying as she looked at him, and he took her in his arms again. She had had a hell of an evening. “I'd love you to move in with me,” she said, still unable to stop crying as he held her. It was as much the shock of what had happened as the relief that he didn't want to leave her.
“Then why are you crying?” he said gently.
“Because I'll have to make more room in my closets,” she said, and laughed through her tears, and he joined her.
Chapter 9
Fiona was sitting at her desk the next day when Adrian came in to see her, after a meeting. She was looking at photographs on a light box behind her desk, and swiveled around as he came in.
“So how was it?” He had been dying of curiosity all night, and hadn't had time to stop in to see her all morning, and the one time he did, there were people with her.
“It was interesting,” she said obliquely.
“What does that mean?”
“Well, the housekeeper hated me and probably tried to poison me, but she burned the dinner so totally that I never got to eat it. The girls said they hated me, and haven't spoken to their father since Saturday when he told them. They refused to talk to me, told us we were disgusting, and stomped off to their rooms since there was nothing to eat anyway. And then the dog attacked me.” But at least she smiled at him when she said it. She hadn't lost her sense of humor.
“You're exaggerating, I hope. About the dog at least. Seriously, how bad was it? Did the kids lighten up eventually?”
“No. And I wasn't kidding about the dog either. I had eight stitches.”
“Are you serious?” He looked thunderstruck, and with that she lifted her leg onto the desk and rested it there, it was heavily bandaged and an impressive sight.
“I had a tetanus shot, and I'm on antibiotics. The only good news is that he was so upset, I thought he was going to end it with me. Instead, he's moving in this weekend.” She looked delighted as Adrian stared at her leg in disbelief.
“Oh God, what are you going to do about your closets?”
“I'll have to figure out something. Maybe I'll turn the dining room into a giant closet. Or tent the garden. God knows, but I'll have to do something. At least he still wants me. Jesus, Adrian. The kids were beyond awful. They were monsters, to him mostly, but they were awful to me too. And the housekeeper is right out of Rebecca, or some equally scary movie. I thought she was going to kill me. Instead, she had the dog do it. Thank God they don't have a pit bull.”
“What was it?” He looked worried. Even with her amusing recital of it, it was a pretty ugly story. And his daughters sounded like real bitches.
“A Pekingese, thank God. The damn thing wouldn't get its teeth out of my leg. John had to pour water on it.”
“Holy shit, Fiona, this is awful!” He was laughing because she made it sound so funny, but she had been scared.
“It was pretty bad,” she admitted ruefully. “I guess I won't be going there for Thanksgiving.”
“You can have turkey with me. My dogs love you.” He had two beautiful Hungarian sheepdogs, and they adored her. They nearly killed her with kisses whenever they saw her.
“I don't know what John is going to do. Maybe time will take care of it. His daughters are really going to be a problem. Or at least they are for the moment. They think he's betraying the memory of their mother.”
“That's ridiculous. You said she's been gone for two years. What do they expect? He's a young man. He can't bury himself with her.”
“I know. But they don't see it that way. I guess they want him to themselves, but they're not even there. They're away at college.”
“They'll get over it. At least he's not letting it sway him, or turn him aga
inst you.”
“On the contrary, when we got back from the hospital, he told me he wanted to move in with me. And that's a little scary too. That's pretty quick. We've only been together for two and a half months. I would have waited a lot longer, but on the other hand I like living with him. And I've gotten used to him. I missed him all weekend.”
“Can he stand your crazy life? Jamal, the dog, the groupies, me, all the people who hang around you, the shoots till all hours, the deadlines, all the nutcases you collect? He seems pretty conservative. Make sure you give him space and don't drive him crazy. You can't live like you did when you were alone, Fiona. You're going to have to make adjustments for him, especially if he's really living with you and not just ‘staying with you,’ as you put it.”
“He's held up so far. And he's not giving up his apartment, he can always stay there for a day or two for a breather, if he needs one,” she said practically, but Adrian shook his head in disapproval.
“Don't push him till he needs a breather. I know how you are. You like doing things your way. It's your house and your life and your dog. I'm the same way, and I've made the same mistake in every relationship I've had. I forget to compromise and adjust, and sooner or later it drives them right out the door. You'd better think about it, Fiona.” It was a sobering warning, and she suspected he was right.
“I know, I know,” she said with a smile. “It's hard to do sometimes. I'm set in my ways.”
“That's no excuse. We can all make adjustments.
And it would be stupid to lose him. I think this time it would really matter to you.” He was right, and she knew it.
“Yes, it would. I don't want to lose him. But I sure don't know what to do about his daughters.”
“Let him handle it. They're his problem. You're not married to him.” And then something occurred to him, and Adrian looked at her more closely. “Are you thinking of marrying him?”
“No. Why should I? I don't want kids. I don't need to be married. I told him that in the beginning.”
“Did he believe you?”
“I think so,” she said, looking pensive.
“What if he needs to be married? He may be more respectable than you are,” Adrian said wisely.
“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. But for now at least, it's not an option,” she said firmly.
“Why not?”
“I'd have to give up too many closets. Besides, his kids would kill me.”
“That's a possibility, from the sound of it. Anyway, if you change your mind, warn me. If you ever tell me you're getting married, I might keel over from the shock. I want to be sitting down when you tell me.”
“Don't worry,” she said confidently, “I'm not going to. I may have mellowed. But I'm not crazy.”
“Why is it that I don't believe you?” Adrian said as he shook his head in disbelief over the story she had told him, and left her office.
And as promised, John moved in on Sunday. He took Courtenay to Princeton on Saturday, and Hilary flew back to Rhode Island on Friday night. Two hours after he got back from New Jersey he was at Fiona's house, with half a dozen suitcases, and a bunch of suits over his arm. And three banker's boxes full of files and papers. He said he could bring the rest later. This time she had spent hours making more space for him. It still wasn't enough, considering what he'd brought, but it was an improvement. By Sunday night they were a happy couple, officially living together. His daughters were back in school. Mrs. Westerman had the apartment to herself, and Fifi ruled the roost. And in Fiona's house, she and John were comfortable and happy. Sir Winston even wagged his stubby little tail when he saw him. The transition had been surprisingly easy. Another chapter in their life had begun. Everything seemed to be moving very quickly.
Everything continued to go smoothly until Thanksgiving. Inevitably, the issue of the holidays came up, and John and his daughters got in a huge battle over whether or not Fiona would be allowed to join them. Both girls threatened not to come home if she was there. In deference to their family, Fiona insisted on bowing out, and after endless battles with his girls that got him nowhere, John reluctantly agreed to it. She was planning to have Thanksgiving at Adrian's with a large group of his friends, and she told John honestly that she preferred it. She couldn't think of anything more depressing than spending the holiday among people who didn't want her there. And even if John did, his daughters didn't. Not to mention Mrs. Westerman and Fifi. It was a stupid situation, but the best they could do at the moment. And John was deeply grateful for her understanding.
She had a good time with Adrian and their friends. And John had a solemn, lonely Thanksgiving with his two daughters, and the stern-faced housekeeper grimly serving dinner. The meal was anything but happy. And as he and Ann had both been only children, and had lost their parents when they were young, they had no other relatives to share it with them. The holiday only served to make the girls miss their mother more acutely. It was dismal. And at the end of the silent meal, John confronted them and told them that he was tired of their punishing him not only for their mother's death, but also for his relationship with Fiona.
“I'm not going to let you do this,” he said sternly, as both girls cried and told him they didn't want him to forget their mother.
“How can you even say that?” he said, looking offended. “I loved her. I still do. I always will. I could never forget her or the happy times we shared. But that doesn't mean I have to be alone for the rest of my life, to remember her better. You two are gone now, you're in college. I'm alone here. And I want to be with Fiona. She's a wonderful woman.”
“No, she's not,” Hilary spat at him. “She's never even been married or had children.”
“That doesn't make her a bad person. Maybe she didn't find the right man.”
“She was too busy working,” Courtenay added, as though they knew her, which they didn't. They had made every effort possible not to.
“That's no reason to punish her. Or me. And that's what you've both been doing. That's not fair to me.”
“Are you going to marry her?” Hilary asked, looking panicked. Fiona had been designated as the enemy, and they were determined to hate her, for no rational reason. They had never given her a chance, and they didn't intend to. But he had no intention of letting them run his life.
“I don't know,” their father said honestly. “I don't think she wants to get married. She likes her life the way it is. And maybe she's right. After the way you two have behaved, why would she want a family like us, or stepchildren like you? She's better off single.” They both looked faintly embarrassed. Hilary had admitted to one of her roommates the week before how rotten they'd been to her, and she was actually proud of it. Her sister was equally determined.
“We don't want her as a stepmother,” Hilary concluded.
“You could do a lot worse,” John said firmly. “A lot worse. She's a good woman. And it's not up to you. It's up to me. You're not children. You're nineteen and twenty-one. You don't get to act like this forever. If you want to, it's your business. But I'm not going to let you ruin my life.”
“We won't come home for holidays if you marry her,” Courtenay said petulantly, sounding like a five-year-old and not a sophomore at Princeton.
“I'm sorry to hear that. You might find yourself in slightly different circumstances,” he said, threatening them subtly, and they both got the message.
“Would you cut us off?” They were checking how far they could go, and as far as he was concerned, they had gone far enough. In fact, way too far.
“I wouldn't test those limits if I were you. I'd be very disappointed in you if you continued to behave this way, if Fiona and I got married.” What he said to them that night sent them scurrying back to the kitchen after dinner, for a consultation with Mrs. Westerman. It sounded like he was going to marry Fiona, from everything he'd said.
“We'd have her out of here in six months if he did,” Mrs. Westerman said confidently as the two girls list
ened. It sounded like a good plan to them. They liked the idea of getting rid of her in six months. At least they wouldn't be stuck with her forever, and they'd have their father to themselves again. It was all they wanted. If their mother wasn't alive, they didn't want anyone else to take her place. Ever.
“What if he fired you?” Courtenay asked, looking nervous. Other than their father, she was all they had now, and she knew it.
“Let him. I'd go back to North Dakota, and you could come and stay with me whenever you wanted.” She had some money saved, and she had inherited a small house there. He couldn't do anything to her. She had lost respect for him now anyway. She thought what he was doing with that woman just wasn't Christian.
“We don't want you to go away,” Hilary said unhappily. “We want you to stay forever.” But Mrs. Westerman herself knew that one day she would retire and go home. One of these days the girls would be grown up and married. They were already in college. It wouldn't be long now. And if she kept him from marrying that woman, at least she would have done her duty by the late Mrs. Anderson. She had made her that promise after she died, that she would keep him from defiling her memory, or doing anything foolish. She owed her that much. And she was going to do whatever it took to protect her. Ann Anderson had been such a good woman. And that other woman, the one he was chasing after and sleeping with and making a fool of himself with, well, whoever and whatever he thought she was, as far as Mrs. Westerman was concerned, she was no one. And as long as Rebecca Westerman was alive, Fiona would never get him. It was a solemn vow she had made and would keep no matter what.
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