Present Danger

by Susan Andersen

  Half an hour later, she decided it was a good thing she already knew this stuff, because her heart just wasn’t into cramming. Now that the euphoria of her walk home was wearing off, she couldn’t stop reliving the same memory she’d been reliving every unguarded moment since yesterday afternoon: her fight with James, and the angry, unprotected lovemaking that had followed it.

  Last night had been pretty miserable. Her emotions had fluctuated wildly and she hadn’t attained even a fraction of the stability she usually received from being with James. He’d talked too much about all the wrong things, and she hadn’t talked very much at all.

  Why hadn’t he once mentioned their fight? She’d instinctively run to him in spite of it the moment she’d found out about the caller, but it had never been far from her mind. Hadn’t it occurred to him yet that they hadn’t used any birth control? Didn’t he care? She’d badly needed his comfort; yet all the while she’d been receiving it, she’d also been harboring a lot of unaddressed anger. When it came right down to it, she still was.

  Okay, perhaps it was childish of her not to have broached the subject herself; there was too much at stake here not to clear the air. But last night she’d kept waiting for him to say something, and when he hadn’t, she’d turned stubborn. Damned if she was going to be the first one to bring it up when he’d been the one to instigate the whole affair. Disgracefully, childishly, she still felt that way.

  And would somebody please tell her just what the deal was with his apartment? Her name might not be Einstein, but she wasn’t a total lackwit. It was slowly dawning on her that apparently she was not welcome in it.

  Teeth clenched, stomach knotted, she knew she had to redirect her thoughts. The last thing she needed was additional anger; she was already nursing more than she could handle. With renewed determination, she applied herself to her books; and when James arrived a short while later, she put extra effort into behaving normally. She would not give him an excuse to accuse her of sulking.

  He closed the door quietly behind him and walked into the living room. Shooting Aunie a quick, wary glance, he then gazed down at Greta-Leigh.

  She lay on her back on a baby blanket on the floor next to Aunie, surrounded by toys but staring unblinkingly at a lighted lightbulb over her head. From her position on the floor, she had a straight view up the shade of the lamp on the end table.

  “Hey little darlin’.” He crouched down next to them and waved a tentative finger in front of the baby’s face to get her attention. He glanced over at Aunie. “Won’t that wreck her eyes?”

  “Apparently not,” Aunie replied, “although I can’t shake the feeling it’s goin’ to blind the child.” She stuck a finger in her book to mark her place and looked up at him. “And this is after I was forewarned. Lola told me about Greta-Leigh’s little kilowatt habit yesterday. I guess babies this age are naturally attracted to bright lights. The pediatrician at the hospital told Lola it wouldn’t harm her.”

  “Huh. Spooky.”

  Greta-Leigh noticed the big finger waving in front of her face and reached for it. James nudged it into her soft little palm and then grunted in surprise when she clamped down on it with unexpected strength. Experimentally, he pulled his hand in toward his body and the baby came with it, still clinging.

  “Support her head, James,” Aunie cautioned, smiling at Greta-Leigh, who was faithfully adhering to his finger even though her head lagged behind the rest of her body. “Her neck’s not very strong yet and she lets go as abruptly as she grabs on, don’t you, sugar? Put your other hand under her like this.”

  James complied. “You can sure tell she’s Otis’s kid. She’s got a championship grip. Uh-oh.” He wrinkled his nose. “Oh, God, Magnolia, I think she’s fillin’ up her pants.” He gingerly pried the tiny fist from his knuckle, scooped the baby up in his big hands, and extended her to Aunie. “Here.”

  Aunie experienced a spurt of good humor. “Here, yourself,” she replied, reaching for the diaper bag and shoving it over to him. “You are a big, strong man. I’m sure you can change one little ol’ diaper.”

  “Isn’t it time for her to go home, yet?” James held her as far away from his body as his long arms would stretch.

  “We’ve got her until six. Lola’s sick.” Aunie smirked at the expression on his face. “Everything you need is right here,” she said, giving the diaper bag another nudge. “Wipes, cornstarch powder, clean diapers … even clean rubber pants if she’s overflowed the ones she has on.”

  “Now there’s an appealing thought. Why don’t I just take her out back and hose her down?”

  “James.”

  “Okay, okay. But I’m warnin’ you, Magnolia, I’ve got a weak stomach. If I get sick, it’s gonna be up to you to clean up after both of us.”

  “Rinse out the diaper in the toilet when you’re finished and put it in the plastic bag behind the bathroom door.”

  “Christ. You mean she’s done this more than once?”

  Aunie raised an eyebrow, and James walked off muttering to himself, still holding the baby as far from his nose as he could get her.

  He was gone a long time. Curiosity finally getting the better of her, Aunie tiptoed down the short hallway.

  “I don’t know diddly about kids, kid,” James was saying as she approached the bathroom door. He had filled the sink with warm, soapy water, rolled the baby’s T-shirt up under her armpits and was swishing her legs and bottom back and forth in the basin. “Y need three hands for this job.” As Aunie watched, he draped the baby, facedown, over his left forearm, clutching her chubby thigh in his hand, and used his right hand to scoop water up over her bottom. “Your bag’s got everything else in it; you know if it comes with a washcloth?” He shook excess water from his fingertips, caught the bag’s shoulder strap with his foot, and pulled it nearer. He rummaged through it one-handedly. “Sure enough. I figured I could count on your mama to pack everything we’d need.”

  He was somewhat clumsy and his high, bony forehead was beaded with sweat by the time he reached for a towel, but he cleaned the baby thoroughly. He clamped Greta-Leigh on his thigh with one hand while he knelt and used his other to fold a clean towel in two and spread it out on the bathroom floor. Laying her down, he turned back for the bag and started when he saw Aunie propped against the door-jamb, watching him.

  “Hey,” he said in greeting. “Why didn’t you tell me the kid was loaded when I picked her up? There was shit like you wouldn’t believe from stem to stern.” He pulled out a clean diaper and flopped it onto the towel. “Y ask me, it’s none too soon to begin toilet training.” Locating a clean pair of rubber pants and the container of powder, he turned back to his task.

  Aunie didn’t reply, but she smiled as she watched him. This was the James she knew. When he slipped protective fingers between the diaper and Greta-Leigh’s stomach and then promptly stuck himself with the diaper pin he was using to secure the whole operation, she laughed.

  James glanced up at her. “You really enjoy watchin’ me make an ass of myself, don’t you?” He managed to secure both pins and picked up the rubber pants.

  “Yeah,” she agreed with easy honesty. “You may be a crackerjack carpenter and cartoonist, but you’re sure a klutz with the kids.”

  James held Greta-Leigh up for Aunie’s inspection and said, “I did a righteous job. Come on, admit it.” Aunie swept the baby into her arms. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She stuck her nose into the baby’s neck. “But it took him hours and hours to change one little ol’ diaper, didn’t it, sweetie pie?” Waltzing them out of the room, she called back, “Don’t forget to rinse out the diaper and put it in the bag behind the door.” For some reason, she felt much better, her anger diffused. They still had to talk, but at least she felt hopeful that everything would be all right.

  The feeling didn’t last through the next five minutes.

  James found them back in their original positions on the floor when he was finished. He dropped the diaper bag on the hardwood next to the bl
anket and hunkered down. Great-Leigh began to whimper. “What’s the matter, sweet thing?” James stroked a long finger over her silky cheek.

  Whimpers turned to wails, wails to a roar.

  “Uh oh.” Aunie hopped up. “We know she’s dry, so she must be hungry. I’ll throw a bottle in the microwave.”

  “Don’t leave me alone with her!”

  Aunie was already in the kitchen, but she poked her head around the door. “See if you can find her bink.”

  “Her what?”

  “You know, her little pacifier.” Aunie withdrew into the kitchen once again. “It’s on the blanket somewhere. Look among her toys.”

  James located it, blew a piece of fuzz loose, and popped it into the baby’s mouth. Immediately, Greta-Leigh began working it, sucking vigorously enough to make the plastic bob. It dried her tears, but James found the artificial clownlike smile kind of eerie. “I can’t believe Otis lets her use this thing,” he said. “No kid of mine would ever get one.”

  In the kitchen, Aunie laughed. “Never say never, James,” she replied. “It’s an invitation for the famous-last-words fairy to kick your teeth in.” She waited for one of his off-the-wall comebacks, but James had abruptly fallen silent.

  When Aunie reappeared with the bottle, she immediately knew the first lighthearted exchange they’d shared in twenty-four hours was over. James had once again retreated behind a barrier. He didn’t appear angry but he had withdrawn. Rage immediately surged up her throat in response, threatening to choke her. Damn him. Damn him. For about two minutes, she’d been able to forget yesterday’s mess. What had set him off this time?

  He watched her feed the baby for a while, but it wasn’t long before he excused himself, ostensibly to complete a cartoon that he’d been working on. He bent down to give Aunie a kiss but she turned her face aside, so he ruffled the baby’s dark hair instead. Then he left, quietly closing the door behind him.

  No kid of mine. The words mocked him all the way down the hall. Inside his apartment, he closed the door with extra care, gripped the door frame until his knuckles stood white, and then deliberately, viciously cracked his forehead against the unyielding wood panels in an attempt to obliterate the chanting, sneering little voice in his brain. No kid of mine.

  Ow, shit, that hurt. Nursing his aching head, he stumbled to the couch and sank down onto the cool leather. God. No wonder she wouldn’t speak to him last night. He’d never known her to be so reserved, but in his oblivion he’d thought he understood. He hadn’t been able to cough up the apology she’d deserved for the lousy things he’d said during their fight. Always articulate, he hadn’t been able to express himself on the one topic that needed to be verbalized. He’d hated it that she hadn’t seemed to find it necessary to make conversation at all, but now … Oh, Jesus, she must think he was such a bastard.

  All the while he’d been rushing to fill in the silences with a surplus of words, he hadn’t uttered one relevant remark, hadn’t asked one appropriate question. Like: Was it a safe time for her or was it a fertile period? Was there a chance he could have gotten her pregnant? What did she want to do if he had?

  He had an ugly suspicion regarding the latter. She still had two years of university left and he’d lost count of the number of times she’d told him how much she looked forward to holding a job and earning her keep in the real world. The last thing she was likely to want was to be saddled with his kid.

  Son of a bitch. He couldn’t believe he’d been so careless. From his very first sexual encounter, safety had been his middle name; but now, with the one person who really mattered, responsibility had flown out the window. So where did they go from here?

  He knew what he wanted, but he wouldn’t hold his breath. She hadn’t even let him kiss her. His abrupt bark of laughter was long on bitterness, short on humor. Hell, what did he actually know about lasting relationships, anyway, or about any relationship, come to that? It wasn’t as if he’d ever had one before Aunie. What he’d had was a parade of one-nighters.

  If he didn’t get off his butt and talk to her pretty damned quick, that was all he was likely to ever have. But first he had to marshall his arguments. If he flew off the handle with this one, he could kiss everything he wanted goodbye, which was pretty damned ironic when you thought about it. His entire life, he’d been able to submerge his emotions behind a fast wit and a faster tongue and talk his way out of nearly any situation. With Aunie, however, his trademark verbal adeptness just fell to pieces. Instead, he went brain-dead and his emotions roared to the surface, dominating his every action. From the very beginning, it seemed, she’d turned him upside down without breaking a sweat, causing him in the process to react first and apply rational thought second. Just when it was most important to keep a cool head, he invariably lost his temper.

  Well, he couldn’t afford to do that this time. So he was going to get some rest and give this considerable thought. And then he was going to take his much-vaunted ability to fight his way out of a tight corner and put it to good use.

  Tomorrow, little Miss Magnolia Blossom had better look to her laurels. Because he was playing this one to win.

  The plane that landed at Sea-Tac airport in the middle of the night was more than half an hour late and the limousine that Wesley’s secretary had ordered for his arrival was not waiting. He shot his cuffs in irritation and impatiently consulted his Rolex watch once a minute for an additional fifteen minutes before he condescended to collect his own baggage and take a taxi.

  Just one more inconvenience for which that faithless bitch wife of his would answer.

  Staring disdainfully through rain-soaked windows at what he considered uniformly bleak scenery, he reflected on all he had done for her. He had raised her from a poor relation to a woman of consequence, had given her everything a woman could possibly want. In return the ungrateful little slut had ruined his life, destroyed his reputation. His business had suffered in the past nine months, many of his friends had dropped from sight, and the agency he had hired to find her had taken their own sweet time, soaking him for a fortune in the process. That was no coincidence, he was sure.

  Gazing out at the sparse traffic on the interstate, however, Wesley, a perpetually dissatisfied man, allowed himself one brief, pinched smile of satisfaction. For he had found her now, just as he’d always known he would. The moment he’d awaited was rapidly approaching. In less than twenty-four hours, he would be in a position to exact his revenge. Oh, yes, she was going to pay for every slight he’d suffered, for each and every humiliation. She was going to pay dearly.

  Tires hissing over wet pavement, the taxi pulled to a stop in front of Aunie’s apartment house. All the lights except the one blazing over the front door were darkened—not surprising, given the hour. Wesley sat and stared at the building with obsessive concentration, caught up in a web of dark thoughts. The driver, watching him in the rearview mirror, shifted uncomfortably. His passenger’s expression was one that was becoming increasingly familiar in Atlanta circles, causing friends and business acquaintances alike to give him a wide berth. To the driver it was unfamiliar, but no less disturbing. The guy looked like a psycho.

  “So, what’s it gonna be, bub?”

  “Wait here.” Wesley opened the rear door and climbed out, ignoring the driver’s protest. He walked up the path to the front door and studied the names next to the buzzer. Only three, and one of them was Franklin.

  Good.

  He climbed back into the taxi and settled himself. Looking at the driver down the length of his nose, he said peremptorily, “Take me to the Four Seasons Olympic.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Independently, Aunie and James had reached the same conclusion. This impasse in their relationship could not be allowed to continue. Both had spent two difficult nights apart, and both had decided they needed to talk before everything worthwhile they’d built together was reduced to ashes. Each privately swore that the necessary conversation would be handled in a nonconfrontational manner, wit
h logic and calm foremost, emotions strictly controlled and relegated to a back burner.

  Their intentions were the best. They just didn’t realize how difficult that particular promise would be to keep.

  Aunie was feeling optimistic by the conclusion of her final exam. She wouldn’t know for sure until she saw her grade, but she felt it had gone well and hoped it was an omen for the rest of the day. Due to the continuing inclement weather, she had accepted a lift from Mary, both to and from school, but she’d declined her friend’s invitation for a celebratory lunch. Promising to make it up to her at a later date, she waved Mary off and ran, head down, up the path, letting herself in the front door. She was anxious to talk to James and settle the future of their relationship once and for all.

  She’d decided on the way home that she was most likely blowing the matter of his apartment entirely out of proportion. He’d never actually said she was unwelcome. Well, he had, as a matter of fact, the one and only time she’d entered it, but that was before they’d become involved. She had to believe that the dark suspicion, which had bloomed full-blown yesterday afternoon, was nothing more than an instance of her paranoia at work following what had truly been an immensely eventful and stressful week. It didn’t say much for her state of mind, perhaps, but it certainly beat the alternative, which was that James was deliberately excluding her from a large portion of his life. That was a supposition she found untenable and she refused to make herself crazy thinking about it before she had a chance to talk to him.

  By the time Aunie had put away her supplies and stored her book bag on a shelf in her bedroom closet, the steady drizzle had stopped and the thick, lowering clouds had commenced to thin, allowing intermittent rays of weak spring sunshine to break through. Choosing to view the improved weather as another promising omen, she brushed her hair and her teeth and applied a dash of lipstick.

  Drawing a deep breath, she decided she was as ready as she’d ever be.

  She didn’t bother to lock her door behind her when she exited her apartment. It was nice, now that the young man responsible for the harassment was safely behind bars, not to feel the need for extra caution. She walked down the hall, hesitated a moment outside James’s apartment, and then resolutely knocked on his door.