“Ummm—never.” Trish looked dismally at the 1996 Oldsmobile. “The only reason I have it at all is because my grandma can’t drive anymore, so she gave it to me. I have no idea what service or repairs it may have had in the past.”
Archer pulled his bug in front of Trish’s car. Jay handed the cables to him as he got out.
“What’re you giving them to me for?” Archer asked. “I don’t want to get all greasy.”
Jay shrugged. “Just thought you’d want to be the one to help your damsel in distress.”
Grumbling, Archer clamped the cables on Trish’s battery. Stretching the cords as far as they would go, he opened the passenger door of his bug and leaned inside. He popped the back panel out and leaned in, trying to reach the battery, but it was too far away. He backed out of the car and tossed the cables at Jay. “Hold these.”
“Sure.” Jay watched with amusement as Archer maneuvered the bug closer.
When it was sideways and only inches from Trish’s car, Archer climbed in the back seat again and wrestled the alligator clips onto the battery.
“Give it a minute, then try the Olds,” he ordered Trish as he got out, checking the front of his shirt for grease.
Obediently she climbed into her car. Jay turned toward the house.
“Where you going?” Archer demanded.
“To fix myself something to eat before I have to leave for work. I only came out here so you would.”
Trish stuck her head out the window. “Now?”
“I said in a minute,” Archer yelled.
“Give her a break,” Jay said. “She gives you enough,” he added quietly.
“Stay out of it,” Archer said. “Like you’d know anything anyway. It’s not as if you’ve got a girl. Try it now,” he called to Trish.
Jay listened as she turned the key and tried the engine once, twice, three times.
“It’s still clicking—won’t even turn over,” Trish said.
“Great,” Archer mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck like the whole thing pained him.
“Does your insurance have towing service?” Jay asked.
“I don’t know.” Trish bit her lip and looked from one man to the other before retreating back into her car.
“Sometimes she doesn’t know anything,” Archer muttered under his breath.
Jay shot him a look. Archer unfastened the cables, slammed the passenger door, hopped in the bug, and drove off to park the car.
Jay walked over to Trish’s window. “He’ll be back in a second. And he’ll help you with whatever you need.”
“I know.” Trish sighed. “I wish he wouldn’t act so irritated about it though.”
Jay looked over his shoulder. “Yeah. Patience and helpfulness aren’t exactly his virtues, are they?”
Trish giggled. “No. And I’m not sure what is.”
Then why are you going out with him? Jay wanted to ask. “Come on.” He opened her door.
She got out. “How come you don’t have a girlfriend, Jay? Arch says you’re weird, but—”
Jay laughed. “He does, huh?”
Trish winced. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m forever opening my mouth without thinking.”
“No worries,” Jay assured her. “Coming from Arch, that’s a compliment.”
“Well, I think you’re great.” Trish waited for him to close the door and walk beside her back to the apartment. “And I really don’t get why you won’t go out with any of the girls in the ballet company. A lot of them are very nice—and smart, like you are.”
“It never seems to work,” Jay said, thinking of Jane.
Trish looked at him sideways. “What about that piano girl—Sarah? You like her, don’t you?”
Jay shrugged. “I do, but it’s hard getting to know her.”
“Don’t give up,” Trish encouraged. “Ask her to the Halloween party.”
Jay shook his head. “She’d never be able to come—not without her cousin anyway.”
“Invite him, too. There will be enough girls there without dates that I’m sure we could keep him occupied—while you get to know Sarah better, if you know what I mean.” She flashed Jay a smile usually reserved for Archer.
“That’s not what I meant.” He stepped ahead of Trish and held the front door open for her. She stopped before walking through.
“It isn’t, is it? You’re not interested in finding a free bedroom. You’d rather have some free time to find out who her favorite composer is and what classes she’s taking.” Trish looked wistful as she spoke. “How’d you get to be so nice, Jay?”
“I wasn’t always,” he assured her. “And hopefully Archer won’t always be the way he is now. He’ll wake up and realize what it’s all about.”
“I hope you’re right.” She tilted her head back and looked up, gracing him with another pretty smile. “Because I really love him.”
“I know.” For a second Jay felt that old familiar pang of loneliness.
He wasn’t interested in Trish, but he did wonder what it would be like to have someone say that about him. His parents had never said those words that he could recall, nor had any of the string of girls he’d dated in high school and college. And of course, Jane hadn’t felt that way toward him, no matter how strong his feelings for her.
Even with Trish and Archer, Jay could see that one was giving way more than the other. Is it always that way in a relationship? What are the odds a guy can actually fall in love with a girl, have her feel the same, and have a good life together? Given the divorce rate in America, it seemed chances were pretty slim. With things stacked against him from the onset, he wasn’t sure it was worth the effort. Though being alone all the time wasn’t all that great either.
“Archer’s a lucky guy,” Jay said as he followed Trish into the building. Behind them, the door closed slowly before he could notice Archer, a short distance away, his arms folded and a scowl on his face as he watched the couple disappear inside the house.
Chapter Eleven
Sarah set her books on top of the piano and slid onto the bench. No index cards were waiting for her on the stand, she noted with keen, though silent, disappointment. Apparently Jay had believed her at the museum when she’d told him they couldn’t see each other.
It’s for the best, she told herself. Feels lousy, but it’s for the best.
With an inaudible sigh, she set out her music, hoping she’d be awake enough to play it. Her new schedule was making school and playing for the ballet difficult. She just had to make it through the next few weeks until they started rehearsing with a full orchestra and wouldn’t need her anymore.
As she arranged the pages, one of the dancers approached the piano.
“Hi Sarah, I’m Trish.” Her brow furrowed. “Did you color you hair?”
Sarah’s hand went to her braid, now strawberry blond thanks to the temporary hair dye, as she fumbled for an explanation. “I was experimenting.”
“Oh. Looks good.” Trish nodded. “Well, anyway, there’s a big costume party this Friday. Jay’d like you to come.”
Sarah’s heart gave a funny little leap. “He knows I can’t.”
“Sure you can,” Trish said, frowning at her. “At Boston Costume on Broadway you’ll find outfits reserved for you and your cousin. They’re paid for and everything. All you have to do is convince him to come with you. Once you get to the party, we’ll—” She glanced toward the stage and the dozens of dancers warming up. “Take care of the rest. I promise you’ll get to be alone with Jay.”
“I can’t go,” Sarah said again, though her mind was already whirring through possible ways to explain such an event to her father.
Trish sat on the bench, forcing Sarah to scoot over. “Listen, Jay’s a really good guy. Any girl would be lucky to have him. And don’t tell me you aren’t interested. I can tell you are. So give him a chance.”
If only I could, Sarah thought. “I can’t go,” she said again, more forcefully this time. “Please tell him no
for me.”
* * *
Jay parked his motorcycle along the curb and took off his helmet. Glancing at his watch, he saw he had about seven minutes until Trish would be out of rehearsal. He’d offered to give her a ride because Archer was staying late to work on an article, and her car still wasn’t running—and because he was eager to hear if she’d convinced Sarah to come to the party.
The sounds of the marching band drifted toward him from the stadium. Posters were plastered all over campus, advertising the game with Princeton. He’d only been to a couple of football games in his two years at Harvard—law school plus an internship and a night job didn’t leave a lot of time for leisure activities. But Jay felt a sudden desire to go to the game, to grasp every last minute of his college experience that he could. All too soon it would be over, and he was fairly certain life would take him far from the charmed world of Cambridge. The northeast was beautiful, and he’d loved living here, but Seattle was calling him home with increasing persistence. Come June, he knew that’s where he was headed.
But for now he was here and wanted to savor the experience. For a brief minute, Jay allowed himself to fantasize about going to the game and taking Sarah. Since it was a night game it would probably be cold, but he’d buy one of those crimson blankets he’d wanted for a while. He’d wrap it around the two of them as they stood, cheering the team. He doubted she’d ever been to a game, and it was something every student ought to experience at least once. They’d share a hot chocolate. The overhead lights would shine down on the field and the top of her blond head. He’d coax a smile from her before the night was over.
The image seemed so real that for a second he imagined Sarah coming down the sidewalk toward him. Jay blinked and saw that it was her. And she was alone. She held her books clutched to her chest, and her head was cast downward. It was a pathetic picture, and Jay felt a surge of sympathy. Something was really messed up in her life, and he wished he could fix it.
He waited until she was almost in front of him. “Hey, stranger.”
She looked up, a brief smile lighting her face before the old worry was back. She glanced toward the street.
“Lose your cousin?” Jay asked hopefully.
She shook her head. “He went to get the car. It’ll just take him a minute.”
“Too bad.” Jay set his helmet on the seat and stepped up on the sidewalk.
Sarah’s arms tightened around her books. Her eyes were worried, but she didn’t leave.
“I’ll be quick,” Jay said. “I had a great time with you at the museum. I’d really like to see you again, and there’s this party—”
“Trish told me,” Sarah broke in. “I can’t, Jay. My father would never let me go. And if by some miracle he did, Carl would have to come too, and he’d watch me like a hawk.”
“I think we’ve got the Carl problem solved—for the party, anyway. Go ahead and bring him. Trish has promised me he’ll be plenty distracted.” He glanced toward the rehearsal hall and saw the dancers starting to trickle out.
“It’s not just that. If I defy my father, he’ll be even more strict. He’s already looking for a reason to pull me out of school.”
“I want to understand this,” Jay said. “But you’re an adult. You don’t have to follow your father’s wishes when they’re ridiculous. Unless, of course, that’s an excuse. I’ve been around long enough to know the games women play. I really hope that’s not what this is.”
“It’s not,” Sarah said, looking hurt. “I wish—I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our hour at the museum—or about you.”
“Thinking will only get you so far.” Jay gave her a wan smile.
“But that’s as far as I can go. It would be a mistake for us to try to see—Jay!” Her mouth opened in a scream as she grabbed his hand, yanking him away from the bike. Behind them tires squealed, and an engine roared.
Sarah held on, pulling him across the sidewalk with more force than he’d have guessed her to have. Surprised, he stumbled forward, bumping into her as she tripped and fell back toward the grass. Her hand flailed in the air as she tried to catch herself, causing her books and papers to fly everywhere. Jay reached for her and missed. She hit the grass, her head snapping back sharply. His own fall continued, and he barely avoided landing on top of her, only just catching himself when his knee hit the ground beside her leg.
“Watch out!” a girl next to them shouted a warning. “He’s going to jump the curb.”
Jay twisted to follow the sound and saw a truck, less than ten feet away, barreling straight for them. There was no time to move, but instinctively he crouched over Sarah, hoping to somehow shield her with his body. Her eyes fluttered open, and she was gasping like she’d had the breath knocked out of her when she fell.
Jay squeezed his eyes shut, tensing for the moment they’d be hit. A deafening crash sounded behind them. The awful screeching of metal grinding on metal filled the air. Sparks flew up from the street. Glass shattered, spraying across the sidewalk and the people on it. What felt like rocks pelted his back. He lowered his face closer to Sarah’s and cupped his hands over her head, trying to protect her from the flying debris.
An engine revved and tires squealed again. We’re not hit, Jay realized. Miraculously the truck had missed them. He looked up and saw the twisted remains of his bike less than two feet away. The truck was backing up.
“Come on.” He reached for Sarah’s hands as he got to his knees. “We need to move before that lunatic comes back for a second pass.”
“So—sorry.” She looked around, dazed.
“This isn’t your fault.” He pulled her to her feet as she held her head and tried keeping her glasses, broken on one side, on her face. “Sarah, are you okay? Is your head—”
“I’m fine—can’t believe he’d do something like this.” She took one wobbly step before Jay put his arm around her.
“Who would? What are you talking about?” he asked.
“Is she okay?” another student asked, looking as concerned as he felt.
“I think so,” Jay said. “But she hit her head when she fell.” He looked around and saw a few other people getting up from the ground and staggering away in stunned silence.
“The truck’s coming back!” someone yelled. Jay glanced behind him and saw that it was. Wrapping his arm tighter around Sarah, he started to run with the others toward the closest building, Lowell House. Reaching the doors, he gently pushed her inside. “You’ll be safe in here,” he called over the head of another student, hurrying to get in the building.
Jay turned away from Lowell and ran a few steps back, scanning the lawn for anyone else who might have been hurt. The truck neared the sidewalk and went barreling past, toward the end of the street.
With adrenalin pumping and without stopping to think what he was doing, Jay sprinted after it. A sharp pain stabbed his foot, and he looked down to see a piece of his side mirror embedded in his shoe.
He yanked it out, ignored the pain, and kept running after the truck. “Someone get his license,” he called to the bewildered students standing around in various states of shock.
A couple of students responded to his plea and joined the chase, running alongside him. One woman pulled out her cell phone.
“He’s turning down Plympton,” a guy called. Jay sprinted toward the corner, straining to make out the letters on the back plate. But the truck was too fast, and by the time Jay reached the corner, it was too far away.
Anger surged through him as he stood there another second, then finally turned around.
“You all right?” the man who’d run with him asked.
Jay nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Sarah’s words after the crash finally registered, and he had a hunch about who was behind the wheel of that truck. If he was correct . . . It was one thing for the guy to punch him in the name of watching out for his cousin, but nearly running them down was another thing entirely. The nutcase belonged in jail.
Reali
zing he’d left Sarah without really making sure she was okay, he started to jog again. It only took him a minute to get back to Lowell, but he couldn’t find her inside. He went outside and saw that her things were gone from the lawn. Walking up and down the curb, he called her name and asked the other students if they’d seen a girl with broken glasses. Only one woman recalled seeing Sarah gathering her books and walking back toward the main campus.
Frustrated, Jay returned to the wreck of his bike. Angrily, he kicked a piece of tail pipe aside as he worried about Sarah.
If her cousin would do something like this out in public, what would happen when Sarah was alone with him?
Chapter Twelve
“Jay!” Trish stepped over the glass on the sidewalk and made her way to his side.
He looked up from the mangled remains of his motorcycle.
“You’re bleeding.” She pointed to his head.
Jay pressed his fingers to his temple and winced as he touched something sharp. He pulled his hand away and saw that it was covered with wet, sticky blood. For the first time he felt the trickle down the side of his face.
“What is it?” he asked Trish.
She moved closer, and he bent his head so she could see. “It looks like—” She reached up, fingertips carefully removing a piece of glass. “A mirror maybe?”
Jay glanced at the quarter-inch piece she held. “Yeah.” He touched his head again but couldn’t tell how bad the cut was. He tried to recall how long it had been since his last tetanus shot. “Stitches you think?”
“I can’t tell. But use this.” Trish pulled the scarf from her hair and held it out to him.
“No—I’m fine,” Jay reassured her. “I’d ruin your—”
“Shh.” She leaned closer, pressing the cloth to his head with shaking fingers. “Hold it tight there until we can get something better.”
“Thanks.” Jay felt ridiculous holding a woman’s scarf to his forehead.
“What happened?” Trish asked. “I heard the crash on my way out here.”
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