“We can’t always afford to be happy,” he used to tell her with a hug.
When Dan opened his eyes, Meghan smiled at him, pressing her lips tight to keep from crying.
“Hey, I thought we were past the sadness,” he said.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
He sat up and they looked at each other. She managed not to cry, but she knew he could read it on her face, that they wouldn’t make it as a couple.
Finally, he said, “Can you tell me why, at least?”
Was there anything she could say that wasn’t a stupid cliché or transparently false? “I should probably focus on school.”
He bent at the waist, his hands clasped in front of him. “That’s not the real reason, is it?”
She shook her head no.
“Is it something I can fix?”
She shook her head again.
Dan looked at his hands, his fingernails. “You know why I became a lawyer, and specifically a prosecutor?”
“Tell me.”
“My sisters are older than me. Rachel’s closer in age, only a couple years older. She’s married now, and I have nieces.”
“Nice.” She wasn’t sure where this was going. Did he think she needed more evidence that he was a good guy? The verdict on that was in. He was the best sort of man.
“When I was sixteen, she came home from college with her boyfriend. I was up late, unable to sleep, when I heard them.”
“Having sex?” she asked.
Dan lifted his hands in a “maybe” gesture. “I could hear muffled voices, rapid, but not loud. Of course I wasn’t going to barge in there, or pound on the wall. But then I heard Rachel say ‘no.’ It wasn’t loud and it wasn’t frantic.”
“What was it?”
“I got it in my head that it was date rape. She didn’t want to do more, so she said no.”
Meghan’s stomach cramped. “The boyfriend didn’t stop?”
“Didn’t sound like it to me. So I got up, went to her room, knocked once—I didn’t want to wake our parents any more than she had—and walked in. Well, the boyfriend started to yell at me, but I was just focused on Rachel, whose face I could barely see in the dark. I told them it was time to stop and that Whasisface had to go back to the guest room.”
Dan paused. Meghan waited, but he seemed deep in his memory.
Finally, he continued. “Rachel was really mad at me, but I knew I’d been right. Dickwad had wanted sex and figured she’d be too uptight to make a fuss. Anyway, they broke up, Rachel met Matt, her husband, and they’ve been happy ever after.”
“Didn’t she ever thank you?”
Dan looked over at Meghan. It was eerie how blue his eyes looked in the dimness of her living room. “Her daughter just turned fourteen. Last Christmas, Rachel pulled me aside and told me how grateful she was that I’d walked in that night. Only after looking at her own teenager, did Rachel realize how bad it would have been if I hadn’t stopped the Dickwad.”
Megan chuckled. “Oh, is that his official name?”
“Yeah. Actually, if I remember right, he was named Dick.”
“So Rachel admits now that it was date rape and not a younger brother ruining a tender moment?”
“What she admits is that she thought she could handle him and she couldn’t. And that she would want her daughter not to make the same mistake.”
“So that’s why Lady Justice has a big sword.”
Dan nodded. He waited, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. “I need to know, Meghan. Am I just the kid coming to rescue you? Or am I your happy ending?”
Meghan squelched the impulse to ask for the happy ending. She’d be asking for trouble. “You’ve done so much for me already.”
He stared at her, hope and acceptance battling in his heart. He waited to see which she picked.
She shook her head.
He nodded. “Okay.” He stood up.
Meghan allowed herself one last hug, pressed against his chest, his heart beating into her ear. She squeezed him hard, then let him go.
There was an awkward few minutes while he put on his shoes, fastened his cuffs and put on his jacket. Meghan clenched her fists and jaw. Then he was gone.
Dan didn’t bother with the lights when he got home. He just tossed his keys at the side table, stripped off his jacket and flopped onto the couch. He considered reaching for the remote—maybe there was a late season Phils game on—but it wouldn’t help.
He didn’t even crank up the A/C. He just lay on the couch, vaguely too warm, and thought about what just happened with Meghan.
He’d fixed her problems, fed her, combed her hair, and then he’d let her go—and he still had no idea what happened.
Meghan loved him but she was too damned willing to end their relationship, like she didn’t deserve him or something. Was it because of who her mother was? Did she imagine he’d care that she had a crazy criminal bitch for a mother? That was hardly Meghan’s fault. And anyway, nothing about Meghan in those last few moments screamed “I’m not worthy.”
Images of her—snapshots and tiny videos—filled his head. Arguing in the moot court competition. Staring at him at that first Complex Lit meeting, saying. “Specifically, I’m your paralegal.” Her enthusiasm and thoroughness in the ProCell case, and her concern for that engineer in Ohio. Her pride in that red knitted pot holder.
Oh, sweetheart, how bad must it have been that a knobbly red thing makes you that happy, while being with me is more than you’re allowed to have?
Dan threw his arm over his eyes. He didn’t know how to fix this.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Ohmigod, Meghan!”
Meghan shut her locker, then turned around to see Libby Pembroke waiting for her.
“Where have you been? I kept asking people about you, and no one was quite sure where you were or why you weren’t in school.” Libby swung into step as Meghan started toward her next class.
“Long story, and none of it is as exciting as your summer. On The Fishbowl?”
Libby laughed. “D’you know, I’m so stupid. The entire time I was there, and even after I revealed who I was, I never thought about how people would react when I got back to school.” She shot Meghan a look. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a reality TV addict.”
“My neighbor is a huge fan. I missed the show, but caught the episode where Jeremy interviewed you and your sister.” Kassie still invited Meghan over to watch TV and knit, but Meghan could tell their friendship was waning. Kassie didn’t approve of Meghan dumping Dan.
“Oh, that was weird. I watched it again at my parents’ house over Labor Day weekend.” They started to climb the stairs to the grand entrance hall for the school. “Freaky how many mannerisms Lissa and I have in common. During the actual interview, I felt like the proverbial bump on a log while Lissa was the social butterfly. But seeing myself on TV, I realized how hard it is to tell us apart.”
They stopped in the middle of the marble expanse. Libby smiled. “I want to hear about your adventures. Are you still on Law Review?”
“Nope. That disappeared with my leave of absence. But they hadn’t reassigned my spot on the moot court team, so we’ll have that to look forward to.”
Libby looked at her for a moment. “Want to go running later?”
Meghan hesitated. It felt awkward to go on as though six months had never happened.
“I had a weird summer, too, if that’s any help.” Libby’s smile was rueful.
“Well, that’s true. Probably stranger than mine.” Maybe that was the difference. With everyone else, Meghan imagined them passing along snippets of information. “I heard she was fired from her summer associateship.” “Yeah, but then I heard she was a paralegal and cracked some huge conspiracy.” At least Libby had been sequestered all summer.
She returned Libby’s smile. “Sure. After class, let’s get out of the oxygen-deprived ivory tower.”
A few hours later, Meghan walked
into the Law Review offices looking for Libby. A couple of people said hi, a few just glanced at her, and one person rolled her eyes, which made Meghan laugh. It would have embarrassed her a few months ago.
“What’s so funny?” Libby asked.
As they left the school, Meghan explained about the classmate who’d rolled her eyes. “Like I’m a pariah who only got in because someone pulled some strings.”
Libby was indignant. “No way she doesn’t know you’ve got the best grades in our class. What a piece of work.”
They stretched outside the law school, then headed off for Woodlands, Libby in the lead. Once inside the cemetery, they ran side by side.
Libby looked happy. “Remember the time in March when you warned me that Myer and Hogg was going under?”
Meghan had a vague recollection. “That feels like a lifetime ago. How did you end up on a television show?”
“Long story. The point is, everything works out in the end, I guess. Except that now I have to go through recruiting again. Ugh.”
“Me too.”
“But you’d gotten in at Fergusson and Leith.”
“Didn’t work out.” And she’d better get her name on the law school’s recruitment schedule as soon as possible.
“Shame. I have an interview there next week.”
“Good luck.” Meghan meant that sincerely. “I liked everyone I met there, with only one exception.”
Libby chuckled. “Tell me, so I can avoid him or her.”
“Mid-level associate named Vicky Womack.”
“I’ll ask Dan about her.”
Meghan stumbled a bit, then recovered her stride. “Dan?”
“Dan Howard. He was an AUSA under my uncle, but then he suddenly quit and became a partner at Fergusson. I plan to have lunch with him before my interview so I can pick his brain.”
Meghan ran in silence for almost a full circuit, then remembered something. “Your uncle says hello.”
“Uncle Jack? How’d you meet him?”
“It’s part of the long story, but I met him last Friday. He helped sort out a legal problem I had.”
“I…see. Or rather,” Libby admitted, “I don’t, but I get that maybe I’m not supposed to see.”
“Yeah. Your uncle’s scary, isn’t he?”
“Oh, you have no idea. The only person who can get to him is my mother. We have a secret poll on when—or even if—he’s ever going to get married. Right now my dad’s the only one still eligible to win because the rest of us assumed Jack would pick either the TV anchor he was with last year, or the professor of microbiology he dated the year before.”
Meghan pictured Blackjack McIntyre on the phone with Sam Walczek. “Your mother must be a lot older than him.”
“Tons. She was fifteen when he came along. He was the miracle baby. My grandparents smothered him with love, but according to my mother, their doting didn’t spoil him. He’s quite considerate and gentlemanly.”
“Yes, he is. The scariness is incidental.”
Libby pointed at Meghan. “Exactly. It’s amazing how few people see that.”
They ran without talking for a few minutes, then Meghan asked, “If you didn’t win the million dollars, why are you so happy?”
“I met a guy over the summer.”
“I met someone too.” It was out of Meghan’s mouth before she could stop it.
“That’s wonderful. Who is he? Or should I ask if it worked out?”
“Yeah. It didn’t. I’m not sorry I met him, though.” She thought about that. “Wow. I didn’t realize I felt that way.”
Libby huffed next to her. “You mean, you’re happy you had a relationship that didn’t work out?”
Meghan thought about this. “All my life I’ve felt like someone would hand me the yummiest dessert, let me have a tiny taste, then yank it away from me. I guess I figured it was better never to have the taste. You know—easier to live without knowing what you’re missing.”
“I don’t know. I’d prefer to eat the whole dessert. And don’t take this the wrong way, but you could stand to eat some cheesecake.”
“Yes, well. I was doing really well over the summer, making healthy meals and everything. Then something happened—”
“You broke up with your boyfriend,” Libby prompted.
“Yeah, you’re right. Anyway, I stopped cooking. I’d miss meals but not notice I wasn’t eating.”
“Better not to taste the yumminess, like that? So you yanked the dessert out of your own hands, if you see what I’m trying to say.”
No, wait, that’s not right. She didn’t snatch the yumminess away. It was—
Who? Who told you that you couldn’t have Dan? Your mother? She’s in prison. Vicky? She barely touched you. Dan? Susan? Who said you couldn’t be happy? Pops is dead. The only person denying you happiness is you.
Meghan stumbled to a stop. She stared straight ahead, vaguely aware of Libby trotting back to her.
“What is it? A cramp? Do you need me to work on your calf or something?” Libby eyed her with concern, but Meghan was miles away. In Center City, at the Fergusson offices. What was Dan doing now? One thing was for sure, he wasn’t magically in love with someone else. He was just as lonely and miserable as she was.
“Meghan? Talk to me.”
“Hunh? Oh. Sorry. I had—I had an epiphany.”
“Is that the one where you slap yourself on the forehead? I always get it confused with expiation.”
“Expiation, as in atonement? Hah.” Meghan smiled at the image. “Yeah, I’m going to have to do that too. It was the realization that stopped me.”
“What realization?”
“That you’re right. I’ve been pulling the cheesecake away all on my own. Force of habit, I guess.” Meghan flexed her shoulders, thinking.
She didn’t have to be unhappy. She didn’t. She just thought she did. Believed it because her mother kept screwing with her. Pops never told Bianca to cut it out, that she owed her daughter more than that. To Pops, having the treat yanked away at the last minute, well, that’s what life was. You learned to bear it.
Jeez, Pops was just as crazy as Mom had been.
Meghan started to grin. “If you don’t mind, I need to run to Center City.”
“Sure, we can walk back to school and change—” Libby looked over at her. “Oh, you meant literally run, as in right now.”
Meghan laughed at Libby’s shock. Not exactly in character, was it, to go running off on a whim. Meghan glanced down at her formerly black, now dark gray Spandex running shorts and formerly white, now pale gray T-shirt. Her hair, she could feel, was falling out of its elastic. She probably smelled uh, well-exercised.
Didn’t matter. She was filled with energy and the exhilaration of a task—a specific thing to do, a task she could accomplish. After months of feeling like the ball tethered to a scratching post, swinging wildly with every bat of a cat’s paw, Meghan was free. Free to run to Center City, in fact.
“Yeah, I need to go now.” She grinned at Libby, then paused. “Thanks.”
“No sweat.”
They looked at each other, then laughed.
Meghan enjoyed the run to Fergusson & Leith’s building. Not too hot, and while it involved running on city streets, waiting at street corners and dodging traffic, at least she was moving. She was getting someplace. She was going to see Dan.
Shortest thirty-minute run of her life.
When she got there, though, she realized she had no money and no cell phone. She had to ask the security guard to phone Dan’s extension.
“Mr. Howard, there’s a Ms. Mattson down here? No, sir, I cannot send her up. You’ll need to come down.”
“Thank you so much.” She gave him the widest, most joyful smile she had.
“No sweat. Ma’am.” He grinned back at her.
A few minutes later, Dan hurried across to the guard’s desk, but hesitated instead of taking her into his arms. He looked apprehensive…and maybe cautiously hopeful.
“Of course.”
They went out to the garden behind the building. There were benches but neither one suggested sitting down. They just kept walking toward Logan Circle. After the rush to get to him, she was content to be walking, her body inches away from his.
Waiting for the light to turn at 18th, Meghan said. “I didn’t see it until today, you have to believe me.”
“See what?”
“That I wouldn’t allow myself to be happy. Or—oh, this is hard to explain. My grandfather was a Calvinist. My mother was bipolar. I got caught in the middle between his belief in self-denial and hers in self-indulgence. She’d make these extravagant gestures and he’d undo them. Looking back, I doubt we were that poor. We could probably have afforded some of the toys that she gave me. But he’d take them all back to the store as though that was the only option.”
She paused, glancing over at Dan as they walked toward the fountain. He met her gaze solemnly, but she could see the love in his eyes. He loved her.
She smiled at him, a slow curve of her lips. Her eyes moistened. Her entire future, right here in Logan Circle.
She faced forward. “Okay, so as a kid, I just assumed I’d been bad and that’s why I couldn’t keep the toys. At some point, I figured out that Mom was nuts, but I didn’t realize until today that my grandfather was also, in his own way, nuts. And, most importantly, that I’ve been nuts.”
They reached the fountain. They walked around the perimeter as though the benches on the far side were nicer. Then they walked past those benches and crossed over to 20th Street, heading for the Free Library.
She waited until they’d crossed Vine Street. “If all you’ve been taught is that you can’t afford to be happy, and then this fantastic guy comes along and makes you happy, what do you do?”
“I don’t know. Be happy?” Dan said.
He was joking, but she treated it as a serious suggestion. “I think what you do is turn down the offer of happiness. Because it makes your Calvinist grandfather happy? Because it proves you’re not crazy like your bipolar mother?” Meghan threw her hands in the air. “Who knows?”
The Cost of Happiness: A Contemporary Romance Page 29