One Good Turn

by Judith Arnold

  “It’s not my chosen profession,” Luke interjected.

  “Mr. Benning, I’ve never done what you’re accusing me of doing,” Jenny overrode him, her voice trembling slightly. “Luke is my friend and I care about him. I would never tell him what to do.”

  “Jenny,” Luke silenced her, covering her hand with his. Her knuckles felt icy against the strong warmth of his palm. It pained him to see her so upset just when he was feeling better than he had in years. He gave her a long, meaningful look, then addressed his father. “Jenny has never told me what to do,” he said. “All she’s ever done was to listen to me—which is more than I can say for you.”

  “I will not have you talking back to me—”

  “She’s listened and she’s reassured me I wasn’t crazy. She’s given me more in these past few weeks than I’ve gotten in a lifetime with you.”

  “What?” Luke’s father snapped. “What has she given you, besides perhaps a few cheap thrills in bed?” James was usually irreproachably courteous, but right now he was fighting too hard for his son’s soul to bother with courtesy. “For God’s sake, Luke, she’s just a girlfriend, a summer fling. How on earth can you take seriously all her bullshit about lawyers? Where’s your perspective?”

  “I’ve only just found it,” Luke answered, tightening his hold on Jenny. “And I’m not about to abandon it. Come on, Jenny, let’s get out of here. I seem to have lost my appetite.” He rose to his feet.

  Jenny hesitated for a moment before letting him help her out of her chair. She gazed miserably at Luke’s father, who remained in his seat, thunderstruck. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Benning—”

  Luke wanted to tell her to save her breath. She owed his father no apology; quite the contrary, he ought to be begging her forgiveness. But Luke wouldn’t stifle her. He understood that she was apologizing not for her opinions, not for her influence over Luke, but for having inadvertently spoiled the dinner party. She hadn’t realized that expressing a sentiment contrary to James Benning’s was tantamount to a declaration of war, and that when James Benning went to war he honored no protocol, no Geneva Convention—nothing but victory at any cost.

  And if Luke had explained all this to her beforehand? She probably would have spoken her mind anyway. That was the way Jenny was.

  Not wishing to offer his father the opportunity to fire another salvo, Luke stalked through the dining room with Jenny. He continued through the foyer and out the door at such a rapid clip she had to run to keep up with him. Not until they were half a block down M Street did he break stride.

  He took a long breath, let it out slowly, and turned to look at Jenny. She was weeping.

  “Oh, Jenny—I’m sorry,” he whispered, drawing her close and circling his arms around her. She’d fought so valiantly inside the restaurant; it never occurred to Luke that she’d fall apart the minute the battle ended.

  She nestled into his chest, shivering against him. “I didn’t know...” She sniffled and began again. “I didn’t know he had so much anger in him.”

  “Anger? He’s got plenty of anger for anyone who dares to cross him.”

  “No, his anger is much bigger than that,” she argued. “He’s such a bitter man, so discontent. It’s really sad, Luke. I feel so bad for him.”

  “Bad for him?” Luke let out a hoot. “Hey, come on—he insulted you! He called you a summer fling!”

  “Even worse, he called me a coed,” she muttered, lifting her head and peering up at Luke, a crooked smile breaking across her lips as she blinked away her tears. “I hate that expression. And missy—that’s another one.”

  “He has a way with words sometimes.”

  “I do feel sorry for him,” she said, her smile waning. “He must be very troubled, to drive both his sons away from him.”

  Luke wanted to assert that whatever trouble James was suffering was self-inflicted. He wanted to encourage Jenny to save her compassion for those who deserved it.

  But that was part of her beauty, of course: she had compassion for everyone, even the most loathsome, offensive human beings. Her heart was big enough to embrace Luke’s father.

  “I love you, Jenny,” Luke murmured, touching his lips briefly to hers.

  “I love you, too.”

  He stroked his thumbs gently across her tear-stained cheeks, wiping the lingering dampness away. His heart ached from all the love he felt for her. He wanted only to stand here with her, ignoring the pedestrians swarming past them on the busy boulevard, ignoring the traffic and the noise. He wanted just to hold her and revel in their love.

  But he couldn’t. “I’d better take you home,” he said reluctantly. “Then I’ll have to go back and deal with my father.”

  “Now?” she asked. “Maybe you ought to let him cool off for a while.”

  “How long? He’s spending the night at the duplex. I’m going to have to face him, sooner or later.”

  “Later,” Jenny said. “Not tonight.” Her eyes blazed into his with certainty; her arms closed snugly around his waist. “Tonight you’ll stay with me.”

  Chapter Six

  * * *

  “MARRY ME,” said Luke.

  Staring up into his warm honey-brown eyes, Jenny was sorely tempted to say yes. Nothing, nothing in her life had ever been as good as this. And considering that her life had, by and large, been filled to bursting with good things, that was saying a lot.

  He had a beautiful body, long and lean and sinewy. His back was smooth. Even now, luxuriating in the tranquil aftermath of their lovemaking, she couldn’t stop running her hands over its supple contours, stroking down his spine to his waist and back up again to the bony ridge of his shoulders. His chest was smooth, too, his his taut belly, his hips. He had let her touch him everywhere. He’d invited her boldness and trust, and in spite of her relative inexperience she’d accepted the invitation.

  He’d touched her, too—not just her body but her soul. Simply looking at him now, basking in the strength of his smile and savoring the weight of his body on top of hers, sent echoes of pleasure through her flesh.

  He had propped himself up on his elbows so he could view her face. She felt the hard surface of his abdomen against her belly, the delicious pressure of his hips against hers. “How about it, Jenny?” he asked. “Should we get married?” His smile remained, but his voice had a certain gravity to it.

  Afraid to take him too seriously, she said, “If we did, your father and I would probably set a new world record for awful in-law relationships.”

  Luke chuckled. “My mother would like you. Elliott would, too, if he ever got to meet you.”

  “We could go to Sitka and visit him,” she suggested. “We could sail through the Panama Canal and then up to Alaska on our honeymoon.”

  “If that’s the kind of honeymoon you want, you’d better marry a rich lawyer.”

  She pretended to mull over his advice for a moment, then joined his laughter. “Forget it. We’ll meet Elliott halfway. Where would that put us? Someplace in Idaho, maybe? I’ve always had my heart set on an Idaho honeymoon.”

  “Idaho it is.” He sealed their agreement with a kiss, one which began playfully but quickly intensified until their tongues were dueling and her hands were clinging to his shoulders, until she was twisting restlessly beneath him and he was hard again, moving against her. Shuddering, he pulled back and sucked in a ragged breath. “I want you,” he groaned.

  “I want you, too,” she murmured, sliding one hand up into his hair and urging his face back to hers for another kiss.

  He resisted. “I’ve got to go raid Sybil’s stash,” he said, easing out of her embrace and rising from the bed. When they’d arrived at Jenny’s apartment, Sybil had immediately comprehended the situation and evacuated the room, taking her pillow, her nightgown and a few toiletries with her and, on her way out, reminding Jenny that she was welcome to dip into the top dresser drawer should the need arise.

  “I like Sybil,” Luke said now as he returned to the bed, carrying th
e box. At Jenny’s questioning look, he added, “I’ll buy her a new supply tomorrow.”

  Jenny laughed. Luke brought passion and tenderness to sex, but he also brought humor to it—which was particularly amazing after the fury of his argument with his father earlier that evening. Or maybe it wasn’t amazing. Maybe his confrontation with his father was directly responsible for his humor now, for his passion. After all the tension, this was his release. It was his escape.

  She didn’t doubt that he’d been speaking truthfully when he’d said he loved her. But she couldn’t ignore the possibility that what was going on here in her bed had as much to do with Luke’s father and his future as it had to do with Jenny, that the ecstasy he found with her was somehow magnified by the anguish that had preceded it.

  Luke took her mouth with his again, and she let his kiss sweep all conscious thought from her mind. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sliding motion of his tongue against hers and on the play of his fingertips against her cheek, her throat, her breast. She sighed as his thumb found her nipple and rubbed it, as his hand ventured lower, below her ribs, below her waist, down into the soft curls of hair between her legs. Her hand mimicked his, gliding down his body, past his much broader rib cage, the well-toned muscles of his abdomen and lower. She closed her fingers around him and stroked. At his gasp, she smiled, partly in delight at the power she exerted over him and partly in astonishment at her own powerlessness as he moved his fingers against her.

  She recalled the way he had felt inside her the first time they’d made love. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he’d whispered when he’d realized how small she was. But he hadn’t hurt her. He’d felt wonderful.

  And as he rose fully on top of her, as his legs nudged hers apart and his body surged deep within her, he felt wonderful again. Better than wonderful. He felt like life itself, energy and light, desire and need, fear and the exhilaration of overcoming fear. She held him, loved him, rose to meet his fierce thrusts until the painfully sweet sensations broke free and pulsed through her, taking her somewhere she’d never been before, somewhere she hadn’t known existed.

  Until tonight. Until Luke shared it with her.

  * * *

  “MARRY ME,” HE said again, a long time later.

  They were breathing normally at last, resting side by side in the shadowy bedroom, facing each other on the pillow with their hands clasped between them. The sun had set, throwing the room into near-darkness, but Jenny was still able to make out the details of Luke’s face just inches from hers.

  He wasn’t smiling.

  “Is this some kind of plot?” she teased. “You think if you make love to me enough times I’ll say yes to anything?”

  “That’s an interesting idea.” He gently wedged his knee between her thighs. “Will it work?”

  She almost dared him to try it and see. She fantasized about making love with him over and over until they were too exhausted to continue. She fantasized about marrying him. That was all it was, of course—a fantasy. She couldn’t possibly take him seriously.

  Her stomach made a faint growl, just loud enough to remind her that she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. Reality was intruding; she had to set aside the fantasies. “I love you, Luke,” she said, gazing steadily at him. “But we’re so young. We have to finish college, at least, don’t you think?”

  “We can still finish college if we’re married.”

  “If you’re in New Jersey and I’m in Massachusetts, it’s not going to be much of a marriage.”

  “Where’s your optimism?” he asked, a hint of accusation filtering through his voice. “You don’t think we could work it out?”

  “I think we could,” she assured him. “I think we can. But I have to finish college first. And I’ll need a master’s degree if I want to teach. I have a ton of educational loans to pay off—”

  “In that case, I retract the proposal,” Luke said wryly. “I don’t want to get stuck paying off your loans.”

  She was relieved by the return of his sense of humor. Smiling, she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it. “I’m not saying no, Luke. I’m saying maybe yes. But we need time. You know I’m right.”

  “You’re always right,” he muttered, mirroring her smile. “I’m going to have to think this thing through a little more. I don’t know if I can stand being married to someone who’s always right.”

  “Oh, you can stand it just fine,” she joked. “Trust me, Luke—I’m right about this. As always.” Then she cuddled up to him, cushioning her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes again.

  He wanted to marry her. He really wanted to.

  His life was in a state of upheaval right now. His professional future had just been thrown into turmoil, his father was infuriated with him, his brother lived halfway around the world... In his position she wouldn’t know what to do or where to turn.

  Luke knew where to turn: to Jenny. He knew what to do: hold onto her, any way he could. Her love was the only constant, the one thing he could rely on in his turbulent universe.

  She did love him. As she’d said to Sybil that very evening, if she made love with Luke she would be his forever. That premonition seemed as true now as it had been when she’d spoken it.

  She and Luke were too young. So many things were waiting to happen to them, so much growing remained to be done. She couldn’t marry him, not yet.

  But she was his. She couldn’t deny it. She was his.

  * * *

  TWO DAYS LATER, he left Washington.

  His father was gone when he returned to the duplex the following morning to shower and change his clothes before work. Not a sign of the old man, not a trace, not even a dirty cup in the kitchen sink. The swanky modern furnishings looked colder and more stark than ever. Moving through the duplex to the upstairs bedroom he’d been using, Luke felt like a trespasser.

  The call came at work: not his father, not his mother, not even Elliott. “Luke,” his grandfather proclaimed, “you’d better come home.” No explanation offered; none needed.

  “I’ll get there as soon as I can,” he promised.

  August had begun, and the halls of Congress were emptying as Senators and Representatives left town. Lee Pappelli could have found tasks to keep Luke occupied—just because Congress was in recess didn’t mean Senator Milford stopped receiving constituent communications and no longer needed up-to-date research on the bills coming up for a vote during the fall session. But when Luke explained that he had some family problems to attend to, Lee thanked him for a productive June and July, wished him well and sent him on his way. The busy-work Luke had been doing could be handled by any literate human being. Surely some other lobbyist was waiting in the wings, ready to finger Howard Milford for a job for his kid.

  Saying good-bye to his summer job was easy enough. Saying good-bye to Jenny, however, would be agony. Luke met her at the C Street exit from her building after work and they walked together to the Mall, where they bought hot dogs and sodas from a street vendor. Among the many things he’d learned from Jenny this summer was how to simplify a picnic.

  “I have to go home,” he told her.

  They sat on a bench near the Freer Gallery. The air was hot and muggy, sour with the smell of auto exhausts. Yet in her loose, sleeveless cotton shift with its delicate pattern of yellow and green flowers, and with her hair pulled back from her face in a pony-tail, Jenny looked cool and refreshed. Sipping her soda through a straw, she studied him intently, her eyes reflecting the green in her dress. “Is it bad?” she finally asked.

  “I think so. My grandfather called.”

  “It’s my fault, isn’t it,” she concluded mournfully.

  “No, Jenny, it’s not.” In spite of the heat he wrapped his arm snugly around her. “You saved my life. You made me see the light. Don’t ever apologize.”

  “But your father—”

  “My father is pissed at me. It’s something I’m going to have to deal with.” He ought to have felt some tr
epidation about returning to the family estate in Larchmont and going head to head with his father, but he didn’t. He no longer had to prostrate himself before the old man. He no longer had to go begging for love. Jenny loved him for who he was, not for who she wanted him to be. She gave her love freely, without stipulations or riders.

  After all these years, Luke finally understood what love was all about. He loved his father, but the only love he would accept from his father in return was unconditional love. He would always, always long for his father’s love, but he would no longer barter his soul for it. Love wasn’t a bargaining chip. It was non-negotiable.

  “I wish I could come with you,” Jenny murmured.

  He let out a short laugh. “And do what? Deflect the bullets? Taste my food for poison?”

  She remained solemn. “I could give you moral support.”

  “You can give me moral support even if you’re in Washington.”

  “And you can come back to Washington after you work things out with your father,” she added, brightening.

  “If I work things out with him.”

  “Is there a chance you won’t?”

  He issued another brief, humorless laugh. “I don’t know. He’s already blown it with Elliott. Maybe he’ll be more willing to compromise with me. I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Who am I kidding? I’ve known the guy for twenty-one years; I’m not going to be able to work things out with him in a few days.” Giving Jenny’s shoulders a squeeze, he added, “But I’m not going to run away like Elliott. I’m going to stick around and see it through.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder. “You’ll make your peace with your father,” she insisted. “I’ve got faith in you. Everything’s going to turn out just fine.”

  If he let himself, he could almost believe her. Rising from the bench, discarding their napkins and cans in a trash bin and then strolling along one of the unpaved paths across the Mall with her, he could very nearly believe that things would work out.