Spence had been on his pirate kick for the past hour, and together they had worked their way through a six pack. She thought of pirates and Tortuga and, for a second, swore she could smell peach juice.
“You know, you could pay me to work for you and we could do this all the time,” she quipped.
“Maybe I will.”
Erin backpedaled. “I’m just kidding.”
“Maybe I’m not.”
“Do you ever intend to write this book?”
He raised his “eye patch” but didn’t answer.
“I’m just asking. Because ethically, if you’re not, I have to let the publisher know. I have a responsibility. I’ve never missed a deadline.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
“Even in high school? On your student newspaper?”
“How did you know I worked on the newspaper?”
“Darlin’, I know you. You were probably an editor then, too.”
Erin stuck out her bottom lip. “Smarty pants.” She kicked the water, splashing him in the face.
* * *
By the end of their second week in Pennsylvania, Erin and Spence had given up any pretense of working. They stayed at the cabin, rising later each morning, eating in bed, lounging in the hammock and swimming in the lake. After dinner they sat around, toothpicks in their mouths, and played Texas Hold ‘Em. Sometimes they played strip poker, but only after they put on several layers of clothing. They didn’t want to lose too quickly.
Time meant little; the days ticked off like seconds on a clock. One evening, they were sitting around the Formica dining table. Erin wore three shirts and a pair of shorts over a pair of pants. Beneath that, she wore her bathing suit. Spence was down to a pair of boxers and a T-shirt. He still had his socks and shoes, his eyepatch, and a faded ball cap pulled low to hide his poker face.
Jerry knocked on the screen door. “You guys decent?” he called.
Startled, their eyes met. They never had visitors to the cabin. Sometimes they imagined they were alone in the world; the only other signs of life were miniature people sailing miniature boats across the lake.
Spence opened the door. Jerry looked at him, then at Erin.
“You guys cold out here? There’s a radiant heater in the attic.”
“No. Not at all. We’re playing strip poker,” Erin said.
Jerry nodded as if he understood. “Okay, well, you’ve got a phone call. Your sister said I should come and get you. He’ll be calling back in twenty minutes.”
“Who?”
Straight-faced, Jerry didn’t respond.
“Who’s calling back, Jerry?”
He turned and shuffled towards the door.
“Aidan.”
Erin looked at Spence. “I wonder why he didn’t call on my cell phone?”
Spence sat down and started shuffling the cards. He didn’t seem to react at all except to say, “Hurry back. I’m winning.”
Erin kissed him tenderly. “No you’re not.” She called out to Jerry, “Hold up. I’m coming.”
The beam from Jerry’s flashlight lit the path to the farmhouse. Erin walked beside him and wondered aloud, “Did he say what he wanted?”
“Nope. I didn’t talk to him. Ben did. Said your cell phone wasn’t working.”
Erin frowned. Had she forgotten to charge her phone? How long had it been since she had used it last? In fact, what day was it? Then she remembered blocking calls from Aidan. She hadn’t talked to him for at least two months.
“Man, I’ve been out of it.”
Jerry smiled at his young sister-in-law and patted her on the back. “Having fun, are you?”
“More than I deserve, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. You’ve always worked hard. It’s time for you to play a little. And after what that ass did, well, who could blame you?”
“Jerry. It’s more complicated than that. Spence is my job. I’m supposed to be working here. So far today we’ve written six words. How am I supposed to explain this to his publisher? She will never hire me again.”
“Tell ‘em it’s a conflict of interest. Tell ‘em you’ve fallen in love.”
“Jerry, are you crazy? I’m not in love.”
“You got us fooled. I guess you’re even fooling yourself. If you’re not working, and you’re not in love, then what are you doing with that guy? Sorry, honey, from the top of the hill, it looks like love.”
Erin bit her lip. Why couldn’t she admit that she had fallen in love? Because he doesn’t love me. She was afraid to think about it. They walked the rest of the way to the farmhouse in silence, Jerry’s words a nagging echo.
Ben was standing at the kitchen door, his hand against the telephone receiver.
“Aunt Erin, its Aidan. He sounds mad.”
“Thanks, Ben.” Erin took the telephone. “Hello? Aidan? What’s wrong?”
* * *
“Where have you been? I’ve been calling your cell phone for months and all I get is your message.”
Erin avoided his question. “Aidan, what’s wrong? What do you want?”
“Your publisher called. She’s been trying to reach you also. Said you’re not where you’re supposed to be. She has no idea where your client is, either. She’s frantic and on the verge of calling the police. I didn’t know who else to call. Are you okay?”
“Of course I am, Aidan. I’m fine. I’m sorry, I’ve been here with the family and I’ve forgotten to charge my cell phone. I’ll plug it in tonight. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to Patricia. Thanks for calling. Is there anything else?”
“Yeah, now that you mention it. Who’s this client she’s talking about? And why are you at the farm?”
Erin debated answering him. Finally, she drew a deep breath and said, “Aidan, it’s really none of your business. We’re not married anymore. Remember? You have your life, I have mine.”
“What are you talking about? You know I love you.”
Erin glanced around the room, afraid that Ben would hear their conversation. She was alone.
“Now listen to me. We don’t have that kind of relationship anymore. Yes, a few times we did, but we were lonely. I explained that to you. You moved on. Don’t you expect me to?”
“That’s been over a long time.”
“You mean she left you.”
“That makes you happy, doesn’t it? Yes, she left me. Go ahead, gloat.”
Erin wanted to, but realized she couldn’t care less.
“Aidan, I’ve got to go,” she said and hung up. She reflected on the fact that she was able to be flippant and disinterested in Aidan and knew it was because of Spence.
Erin borrowed Jerry’s flashlight and headed back to the cabin. Spence was asleep, one of her Jane Austen paperbacks on his stomach. She realized she was still wearing several layers of shirts and pants and sweat beaded on her upper lip. Spence’s “eye patch,” which counted for one item of clothing, was pushed up on his forehead. He snored softly.
“God, you take my breath away,” she whispered.
She went into the bathroom and plugged her cell phone into a wall socket. The screen lit up. Sixteen missed calls from Patricia and at least two dozen from Aidan. Shoot. She tabbed her way through her address book until she found Patricia McDowell’s home phone number. She pressed dial, then put the tiny phone to her ear.
“McDowell. Who’s calling?”
“Patricia? It’s me, Erin Andersen. I’m sorry to call so late….”
“Why are you whispering?”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been visiting my family and I don’t want to disturb them with this phone call.”
“Erin. I’m disappointed. Why haven’t you called me before now? And where is Stephen Spence? The man has fallen off the face of the earth. I tell you, I’m about ready to file a missing person report.”
“He’s with me. Honestly, Patricia, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought it would be best to keep his whereabouts quiet. You see, we
couldn’t work at his house. I thought that if I could take him away from the familiar, he wouldn’t be so distracted. I thought I could keep him under control.”
“And how’s that working for you?” Patricia asked dryly.
Miserably, Erin admitted it wasn’t. “I’ve never had this problem before. I can’t get him to work. Or myself.” She giggled hysterically. “It’s like we’re on this wild vacation and I can’t stop.”
She ran out of breath. “I can’t stop,” she repeated.
There was a long silence.
“Patricia? Are you there?”
“Yes, Erin.”
Again, silence.
“Say something, Patricia. Yell at me. Shake me out of this dream.”
“Erin. Are you telling me that you’re sleeping with your client?”
“Yes,” she squeaked.
“Have you fallen in love with your client?”
“Yes,” she was crying now.
“Erin. This is impossible. I thought that of all the editors I have on retainer that you could handle this job. For God’s sake, girl, he’s only a man.”
“Oh, I know that,” Erin moaned.
“Snap out of it,” Patricia barked. “Now you listen to me. You don’t stand a chance against someone like him. It’s obvious to me now. I thought that you were still heartbroken over that idiot husband of yours. I should have known better. Stephen Spence is handsome and rich, I know. But he’s also a playboy. You’ve seen the magazines. You know what kind of women he dates. Are you one of those women?”
“Yes.” Tears slid down Erin’s face. “I mean, no.”
“Alright; it’s too late to save this job, but it’s not too late to save you. I hold myself personally responsible. I should have seen this coming. Here’s what you have to do. Are you listening?”
“Yes.” More sniffles.
“Stop crying, girl. Where’s your backbone? You need to get out of there right away. You need to get home. I have just the job for you. There’s a music teacher -- don’t worry, he’s 86 and nearly toothless. He has the messiest memoirs I’ve ever read. He’s a retired Georgetown professor so he’s right across town. You can hop the Metro and work in his stuffy ivory tower. Nothing distracting there.”
“But Patricia, what about my deposit?”
“I consider the deposit a wash. I take full responsibility for this. I put you in his clutches, so consider it hazard pay.”
Patricia was right. She had been on this fling too long.
“Erin. Are you there?”
“Yes. I’m here. But what about the book?”
“I have a 65-year-old retired nun I can assign to the project. Scratch that. Too risky.”
Erin didn’t notice the shadow moving through the light under the door. “Yes, I know you’re right. I should never have done this. I’m sorry that it’s ruined our relationship,” she said.
“You don’t worry about the book. You worry about Erin,” Patricia replied. “Like I said, I knew Stephen Spence was trouble and I should never have put you two together.”
By the time she hung up, Erin was miserable. She sat on the side of the tub and cried.
“Stupid, stupid. How could I let this happen?” She beat her legs in frustration then jumped at the knock on the door. She quickly locked the door.
“Erin? Baby, are you okay?”
She tore off a handful of tissue paper and blew her nose. “Yes. I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”
He jiggled the doorknob. “Are you crying?”
“No. I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right out.”
She turned on the shower and pulled off layers of shirts, pants and socks. She stepped in the shower and cried a bit more. Fifteen minutes later she emerged, her skin red, her hair bedraggled. Her eyes were still swollen from crying.
Spence had shed a few layers of clothes and was sitting on the sofa. His arms crossed, he glared at Erin.
“So what does Aidan want?”
Confused, Erin hesitated. He thought she was crying because of Aidan? He didn’t know it had been Patricia on the phone. She bit her lip, not sure what to say.
“Right. I thought you said that was over.”
“I did …,” she trailed off.
“I just heard you tell him you were sorry, you shouldn’t have done this,” Spence said, his face tense. “Just what kind of ‘relationship’ did you ruin?”
Erin trembled and studied the floor. If she said nothing, it would end and Spence would still write his book. Several heartbeats later he stood up and walked to the door.
“It’s hot in here. I’m going to lie in the hammock for awhile.”
The screen door banged behind him and soon she heard the gentle squeak of the hammock, rocking between the trees.
Erin retreated to the bedroom and pulled out her suitcase. She opened it and began tossing clothes and books in, grabbing handfuls from the bathroom and the living room. Then she started packing Spence’s suitcase.
“Are we going somewhere?”
He lounged against the bedroom door.
“Y-y-yes,” Erin stuttered. “I have to go home right away.”
Spence tilted his head and raised his eyebrows quizzically.
“I can’t tell you anymore. I have to go. So do you. You have to finish this book.”
“What if I told you I don’t care about the book?”
“You don’t mean that, Spence.”
“What’s this about, then?”
Erin thought quickly. If she admitted that she had been fired, basically ordered out of his life, Spence would explode. Not that he’d care about her, but he would care about the high-handed way Patricia interfered in his life. Then he would break the contract. She used the easiest lie.
“You’re right. It’s Aidan.”
Spence’s head whipped up. He didn’t expect Erin to admit it. That’s why she knew it would work. “He’s … he’s in trouble. I have to help him.”
“I thought you were divorced. You said he had a girlfriend. Let her take care of him.”
“We are divorced, but we still share the same apartment. And she left him.”
Spence grinned savagely. “So you’re running back, eh? She’s gone and the coast is clear. Wait a minute; you still live with him?”
“No. He lives with me. He’s been looking for a new place but apartments are hard to find and they’re so expensive. I’m not home that often, so I really don’t even notice him.”
“What about his girlfriend. Did you notice her?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
“I’ve never met her,” Erin admitted. “I know this is upsetting you. I’m upset too. You can keep on writing, though. You’ll be so far ahead by the time I get back…”
“You’re not coming back. We both know it.”
She turned away.
Spence kicked the living room table, upsetting the lamp. The room fell dark, the light from the bedroom casting shadows. Erin sank to her knees, sobbing. This seemed to enrage Spence more. He grabbed her by her arms, yanked her to her feet and shook her.
“Why are you doing this to us?”
“I’m sorry.” She hid her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry.”
He pushed her away, his face settled into a stony mask. “You’re sorry.” He grabbed the truck keys off the nail by the front door. “I’m sorry, too. Sorry I met you.”
Moments later, the powerful SUV’s engine roared to life, its spinning wheels tossing gravel as Spence drove away.
Chapter Twelve
Erin somberly kissed her sister goodbye, hugged her brother-in-law, patted Ben on the head. She didn’t want them to take her to Eaton’s tiny airport. She wanted to say her goodbyes then disappear.
A car service had returned the SUV the day after Spence’s departure. He chartered a private jet and returned to North Carolina. Rather than drive the large vehicle on the Beltway, Erin turned it in at the car rental counter at the airport, then boarded the small airplane to D.C.
/> She drew more than a few stares from other travelers. Puffy red eyes and a runny nose made it obvious she’d been crying recently. Four hours and an ear-splitting Metro ride later, she tugged her suitcase up the steps to her Dupont Circle apartment. She put the key in the lock and opened the door. So familiar. Her things were still here, right where she’d left them.
Aidan was in the kitchen cooking. Instrumental music filled the apartment. He was playing her favorite CD. Fresh flowers graced the table. Still, it couldn’t comfort her. She ached.
“I’m home,” she said, dropping her keys onto the console.
“Hi honey. Rough trip?” Aidan breezed into the living room and kissed her on the cheek. “Here, let me help you.” He took the suitcase handle and wheeled it into her bedroom.
“Aidan? Is that you or a doppelganger?”
“Ha, ha. I know you’ve had a bad time and I just want to cheer you up. It’s not every day our girl gets fired. In fact, I don’t think it’s ever happened, has it?”
“Sometimes I wish you were gay. You could have been such a good friend,” she said, silently adding “... instead of a lousy husband.”
“I can pretend to be gay if it makes you happy.”
He pulled into his arms and hugged her.
“I’ve missed you, Erin,” he said, kissing her forehead.
“Aidan. Don’t.”
“I’ve made you dinner.”
“I see.”
“I’ve got your favorite wine.”
“That’s nice, but I’m not …”
“Sshh,” he said, putting his finger on her lips. “Just sit down and have something to eat.”
He pulled out her chair. She didn’t think she could eat, but she sat down, drained a glass of wine and Aidan served her dinner anyway.
“This is so good. Where did you learn how to make this?” Erin asked, her cheeks stuffed with garlic mashed potatoes.
“Mickey Mantle’s. It’s a restaurant in New York.”
“When did you go to New York?”
“A couple of weeks ago. I got a call from Columbia University. They’ve accepted me into the post doctoral.”
“Aidan! That’s wonderful. When can you start?”
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