The Right Time

Home > Other > The Right Time > Page 40
The Right Time Page 40

by Susan X Meagher


  “A soup kitchen? Why?”

  “I think it might help you. Being around people who struggle with the same disease can be very beneficial.”

  “I’m with people struggling with the same disease every damned day. I’m so sick of being around drunks I could barf.”

  “This is a different kind of interaction. Very different from a meeting.” She put on a sunny smile, the kind of smile Townsend had no defenses against. It reminded her of Hennessy’s, all optimistic and confident.

  “Give me the address.” As Dr. Morrow took a slip of paper and made a note on it, Townsend had to add, “You don’t have to look so smug about getting your way.”

  The fond smile grew as the doctor stood, and Townsend got up, too. Closing time. She took the paper, then started for the door. A hand gently settled on her shoulder, and she stopped like she’d been yanked by the hair. She’d never had the urge, but she had it now. “Could I…” She swallowed, embarrassed and almost certain she’d be shot down. But her need was greater than her shame. “Could I have a hug?”

  Without pause, Dr. Morrow opened her arms. Townsend sidled up next to her, so tentative she shook. But then a pair of caring arms enveloped her body, and she let out a grateful sigh. She’d pay double if they could just hug for forty-five minutes. She missed Jenna’s hugs so badly she could taste them. But this was all she was going to get. A hug from a woman who liked her well enough—she was sure of that—but if money didn’t change hands they wouldn’t be spending four mornings a week together.

  Releasing her hold, she stepped back, cheeks hot with embarrassment. “Thanks,” she mumbled, then grabbed the door handle and hurried out. When she hit the street, she lifted her chin and let the sun warm her face. There was no way the drug could be working yet, but the voice that had been gnawing at her, telling her to duck into the first bar she passed and drink it dry was strangely silent. She fingered the slip of paper in her pocket. Maybe helping other people wasn’t such a bad idea. It couldn’t be worse than sitting in a dingy room, talking about not drinking.

  Hennessy sat on a sandy perch, just high enough to give her a good perspective. Dawn hadn’t broken yet, but a stream of fishing boats, running lights clearly visible from a distance, crept along the horizon, heading for deep water. She wasn’t sure what they caught out here, but probably big stuff. Maybe tuna or something like that. If she was going to live in New England for a while, she was going to have to learn things like this: birds, fish, trees, flowers. You needed to know your environment to appreciate it.

  Kate had picked her up at the airport the night before, and the scents of Beaufort still clung to her. The day before, at dawn, she’d been out with Daddy and Grandaddy, puttering out a few miles, then casting their nets to trawl for an ever declining harvest of shrimp. Now she was looking out at the same damned ocean, but it seemed like another world.

  Her gaze kept traveling across the sea, searching for Martha’s Vineyard. She knew it was to the West, across Nantucket Sound, but didn’t think she’d be able to see it even if there were a giant beacon on it, which there wasn’t. Townsend’s term didn’t start until September, so she’d probably be on the Vineyard right now. A fond smile settled on Hennessy’s lips, like it almost always did when she thought of Townsend. With any luck, she was busy charming the locals into forgetting her past. If anyone could do it, she could.

  Kate would be up soon, but she liked to lie in bed and daydream, something Hennessy had never been able to do. If Kate was still in bed when she went back, they’d make love. But only if Kate’s parents weren’t up yet. There was no way she was going to give a little wave, sashay past the family, then spend the next hour in bed.

  It was stunningly generous of them to rent the house for a week. It wasn’t nearly as opulent as Miranda’s palace on the Vineyard, but it was still damned nice. That’s just the kind of people they were. They wanted to give Kate a nice beach break before she knuckled down to begin her residency, as well as welcome Hennessy into the family. They hadn’t stated that last goal, but it was clear. They already treated her like one of the clan—something her own family would take years and years to do with Kate. But she hadn’t yet told her family about their relationship, so it wasn’t really fair to compare.

  She turned to take a look at the house, still dark. Standing, she let the breeze whip her hair around, always feeling free and untethered to have her hair blowing in a brisk ocean wind.

  It was time to go in and slip back into bed. Kate would like that. As she walked gingerly across the wet sand, carefully avoiding a few tiny crabs skittering across the surfline, she tried to figure out why she wasn’t jumping in and ravishing Kate the way she thought she would. While at camp, she thought of nothing else, picturing her throughout the day, longing for her in bed. But here—back in Massachusetts—Townsend kept invading her brain, distracting and annoying her. This was their place, and Kate seemed like an intruder. Hennessy couldn’t admit that, of course, but Kate knew something was up. When Hennessy had claimed exhaustion last night those searching eyes scanned her like she was a Runic text she was bent on deciphering. Nothing escaped her.

  Hennessy was going to have to keep her secrets close. Kate knew exactly what Townsend meant to her—at one point in time. If she wanted to know what her feelings were today—she was going to have to ask. That might not have been fair, but she wasn’t going to dive into a relationship while confessing how cold her feet were. That was just mean. They were together, and they were going to stay together. You could take a Boudreaux’s promise to the bank. Her loving Townsend was a separate issue.

  After brushing the sand from her feet, Hennessy stealthily snuck back inside, finding Kate lying on her side, eyes fixed on the door. “Why’d you leave?” she asked, her gaze troubled.

  “I woke up early, but you were still snoring.” She could make the joke since Kate slept like she was in a state of suspended animation. Not a sound ever came from her.

  After ditching her shorts and T-shirt, Hennessy slipped back into bed, gratefully snuggling up against Kate’s warm body. “I made sure to be back before your parents woke up.” She rested her hand on Kate’s belly, smiling when she squirmed at the chill. “We’ve got a whole week to store up some lovemaking. I’d say twice a day should be the bare minimum.” She tickled all around Kate’s mouth with a finger, giggling right along with her when she grabbed the hand and bit it playfully.

  They always wound up this way. Kate on her back, with Hennessy snuggled up against her side, head resting on Kate’s shoulder. In fact, Hennessy’s was broader and stronger, but that didn’t matter. Kate’s body wasn’t bigger, but her aura was.

  She let her fingers trail along Hennessy’s cheek, a tender touch that made goosebumps break out along her arms and shoulders.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Kate asked softly. “To live with me?”

  Hennessy shot into a sitting position and stared at her. “Of course I am!”

  “Don’t overreact,” Kate soothed, tugging her back down. “I’m just checking. This is going to be a big change for you. Living with a lover, being far away from your old roommates, your classes. Having to cook for yourself. It’s not going to be easy, Boudreaux.”

  She loved it when Kate called her that. She pronounced it with such a French flair it was more a term of endearment than a surname.

  “I know that.” Kate had rented a place and furnished it all on her own. Hennessy had never even been to the neighborhood, but it was affordable and close to the hospital. “Having you gone so much is going to be an adjustment.” She touched Kate’s chin, turning it so she could look into her sparkling blue eyes. “But you’re the one who’s going to be working eighty hours a week. It’s important for you to be close to work. I don’t want you nodding off on the T.”

  Kate’s gaze traveled all across Hennessy’s face, clearly looking for signs of doubt. “But you’re used to being around a lot of people. A little one bedroom in Allston might seem like a p
rison cell.”

  Hennessy placed a gentle kiss to her cheek. “I won’t let it. When you’re not going to be home, I’ll hang around campus. My course load isn’t too bad this term, so I’m going to get started on my dissertation. That’ll keep me more than busy.”

  Kate let out a laugh. “Isn’t it commonplace to be accepted to grad school before you write your dissertation?”

  “You think my mind’s as slow as my speech,” she teased, putting her accent into overdrive. “I’m going to hit the ground running when I get into grad school.”

  “I don’t mean to be a downer, but I think a committee has to approve your topic, baby.”

  “They do. But I’ll have this so perfectly presented they won’t have the nerve to turn me down. It’s all about selling it.” She shifted her weight to drape a leg over Kate’s, took her hand and placed soft kisses all over the palm. When Kate’s avid gaze met hers, she playfully batted her eyes. “I’ve got something I’d like to sell you right now. What are my chances?”

  “Good,” Kate purred, grasping her by the hips and pulling her fully onto her body. “Real good.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Five Years Later

  Townsend threaded her way through the throngs of people milling about atop seemingly every square inch of Harvard’s venerable campus. It was, frankly, amazing what a celebration it was.

  She’d watched the morning exercises as they called them, on TV, very glad she hadn’t been compelled to get to campus to see the huge procession of graduates led by bagpipes, flag bearers and a host of angels playing harps.

  Maybe she’d imagined that last part.

  But when the huge outdoor theater was filled with students and families, and the bell in Memorial Chapel began to ring, chills chased down her spine. So much cooler than her own measly graduation. Of course, Harvard students worked a hell of a lot harder, if one particular student was representative.

  Once the actual ceremony began, she took off, trying to time her arrival close to the end of morning exercises. To avoid the crush of traffic, she rode her bike, managing to arrive while the throng was still gathered.

  She’d started to walk her bike to Sanders Hall when church bells started to peal. Every damn church in Cambridge got in on the action, the whole town vibrating with the joyous proclamation that a new bunch of Harvard grads were now officially ready to rule the world. It must have been nice to be part of something with so much tradition.

  It took a while to find a place to stand. Her goal was simple, to get a look at Hennessy in her ridiculously cool outfit, and to somehow check her marital status. She wasn’t sure why that one little detail bugged her so much, but she simply had to know.

  The whole family, gramma, grandaddy, and daddy had come to Boston for Hennessy’s undergraduate graduation, so Townsend doubted they’d make the trip again. But you never knew about the Boudreaux clan.

  Shaking with anticipation and a hearty fear of being spotted, she skulked around the building, trying to get into position to see, but not be seen.

  Even though she was early enough to make sure her plan went off without a hitch, she was sick with anxiety. Seeing Hennessy again, after so long, made her heart flutter. But she’d promised she’d always be there for her, and she was going to keep that damned promise if it killed her. Getting to the undergrad commencement nearly had. She’d told Jenna, hellbent on being completely honest with her, and it took weeks, maybe months, for things to settle down. Jenna didn’t get angry, of course—she never did. She got hurt, which was twice as bad. And having hurt feelings when you were so far away and had your mail monitored… That taught Townsend a valuable lesson: don’t overshare. If you had to scratch an innocent itch, just scratch the damned thing and move on. Today, she’d told no one she was going. Her dirty little secret was now attending graduations on the sly. That was a long way from the bad old days, but probably better for her health.

  They had this stuff down to a science. At 11:20 on the dot, all of the candidates for terminal masters and PhDs from the graduate school of arts and sciences marched up the walk, with one beautiful, dark-haired woman standing out above every other sap. Hennessy had somehow managed to get significantly better looking over the last few years. Her hair was shorter now, and had been trimmed by someone who knew what she was doing. It bounced around her shoulders as she walked, the dark strands standing out against the crimson robe trimmed with black velvet. The woman looked damned fine in red. She should throw out every other color from her wardrobe and turn it into an all crimson affair.

  Townsend only got to enjoy her for a moment, as the procession moved along pretty quickly. But she wasn’t done. Rushing over to a classroom building, she locked her bike up and went inside to watch the hooding and degree awarding on big screen TVs.

  Sitting there, listening to some guy drone on, she decided it was kind of nice she hadn’t been able to score tickets to the actual ceremony, even after offering pretty big bucks on Craigslist. That meant people valued attending more than cash, which was surprising, but nice.

  Finally, they started to call the candidates up to receive their degrees. They went in alpha order, and the third person was the beautiful, super-smart, very hard working Doctor Hennessy Boudreaux. Even though the room Townsend was watching in was quiet and nearly full, she stood up and clapped, letting the tears flow as she watched Hennessy duck her head down to receive her doctoral hood. The smile on her face was nothing short of luminous. It was so damned nice to see her look so proud of herself. That was the highlight, what Townsend would remember about the day: Hennessy standing tall and taking a victory lap.

  After that, she returned to Sanders Hall, where she staked out a perch behind a stately oak tree. Finally, the graduates emerged, each of them searching for his or her people. Hennessy’s people, led by a whooping, clapping Kate, stood off to one side, waiting for her.

  Townsend tried to ignore the sick feeling that made her stomach grip as Kate threw her arms around Hennessy and picked her up off her feet. She couldn’t hold her for long, but she was so overjoyed she obviously couldn’t help herself.

  It wasn’t a surprise they were still together. Hennessy was so damned lovable, Kate would have been an idiot not to know what a prize she had. But Hennessy looked equally happy to be in her arms, and that was harder to take. Seeing a woman take your place was never going to be a day at the beach.

  Townsend got tears in her eyes once again as all of the Boudreauxes stepped up and tentatively offered hugs. They couldn’t possibly have afforded the airfare. Damn, this must have meant a lot to them to all pile in that fish-befoulded truck and drive all the way. But they loved their baby girl, and Townsend was really, really glad they’d made such an effort.

  Then three more people appeared, all getting in line for hugs. A tall, sandy haired man with a pretty, model tall blonde woman who might have been in their fifties. Next to them a good-looking guy, also blond. Damn. Kate’s whole family had come. You didn’t go to Boston on commencement weekend unless you were crazy about a graduate. Or related—by marriage.

  She could have stayed and watched the happy group. Seeing Gramma all dolled up in a somber suit she probably saved for funerals was worth the price of admission. But Townsend had seen enough. If they weren’t married, it was a technicality. Hennessy and Kate were still very much together. Hennessy hadn’t lied. She wanted to spend her entire life with the first and only woman she ever made love with, and damned if she wasn’t going to do it.

  Hennessy sat in an uncomfortable chair and drummed her fingers on the nearby side table. She should have been better at this, but there were some things that hard work alone couldn’t give you. Being comfortable bragging about herself was never going to be easy, but it was something she was going to have to get better at doing.

  The door opened, and the Dean of the English department walked in and sat opposite her. Before he’d spoken a word, her stomach was in knots.

  “I’m sorry to keep you waiting for
so long,” he said, only a portion of his attention on her.

  She made herself smile, even though she was fairly sure she looked like she was sitting on a bale of barbed wire. “It’s no problem. I have nothing planned for the rest of the day.”

  “Well, we won’t need that long.” He thumbed through a stack of papers that rested in a manila file folder. “This is a little different,” he said, when he lighted on something. “I don’t see a lot of dissertations focusing on Kate Chopin.”

  Might as well sell the Southern angle. She amped up her accent just a bit, making it sound like it had when she’d first arrived in Boston. “You might not be able to tell, but I’m from the South.”

  “I could tell that.” He laughed a little, giving her hope that maybe they were going to click. “It’s a biography?”

  “A literary biography. I didn’t uncover much new information about her life, but I tried to put her writing in the proper context of her time and her contemporaries. I chose her because I felt an obligation to honor one of my favorite Southern writers.”

  “Harvard is publishing it,” he said, his eyebrows hiking up. “That’s pretty impressive.”

  She shrugged, unnaturally skittish about being complimented. “It probably looks good for them to publish as many of their own dissertations as they can.”

  He lowered the file folder and looked at her for a few seconds. “You do know you’re competing against dozens and dozens of aggressive East coasters, don’t you?”

  A deep flush was crawling up her cheeks. She could feel it. “I know that. Believe me, I know that. But I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable selling myself like I know I should. Some people are better at courtship, others are the ones you want to marry.” She swallowed, sat up taller and tried to put some punch behind her words. “I’m the latter. I may not be great at promising the world, but I do my best to deliver it.”

 

‹ Prev