The Burning Point

by Mary Jo Putney

  Her friend's stricken face put the situation into perspective. This was Val, with whom she'd shared years of her life. She'd had every right to go out with Donovan. Kate leaned over and hugged her. "Of course we're still friends. You have nothing to apologize for. Remember our old school motto?"

  They recited, "Men come and go, but friends are forever." They'd invented the motto in junior high, and it still had merit.

  The others sat down and started talking dessert, but Kate didn't participate in the rounds of "I will if you will." Her mind was stuck on Donovan. Everyone had thought she was crazy to leave.

  Everyone except the two who knew the whole story: Tom, and Rachel Hamilton.

  Chapter 29

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  The shattering of Kate's family had begun at a perfectly ordinary gathering. Most Sunday evenings, Kate and Donovan joined her parents for dinner, often with Tom, and sometimes Rachel as well. Today only Tom, just back from visiting friends in San Francisco, was a guest.

  It was a pasta night, which Kate usually enjoyed, but this time she was not in the best of moods. Though she'd managed to finish her spring course work without disgracing herself, the last few months had been very rough, because her marriage was going to hell in handbasket.

  Donovan was sitting on her right. He wore a navy blazer and looked very grave as he finished the gin and tonic he'd started before dinner.

  She knew he was as worried as she was, but he reacted by becoming increasingly possessive, asking where she'd been if she was even ten minutes later than expected. She was becoming cut off from her friends, because he didn't like her visiting or even calling them. She understood why--with her schedule, she hardly had any time for him during the school year, and he was feeling neglected.

  But she missed her friends, especially since her marriage was deteriorating. There had been several incidents when he'd shaken her violently, or pinned her to the wall as he vented his temper. He always cooled off quickly and apologized and he'd never really hurt her. Still, it was profoundly unnerving not to know what might set him off.

  Donovan caught her looking at him and gave her a private smile. Yes, they were going through a bad patch, but they would survive. They loved each other too much not to work out the problems.

  Her father's voice cut through her preoccupation. "Where's Rachel, Tom? Haven't seen her in weeks."

  "She's studying. Final exams this week. Future doctors don't know how to relax."

  "Time for you to marry her. She can go to medical school later. Babies are best to have when you're young and full of energy."

  Kate had heard the baby rap often herself. Three years of marriage and not pregnant yet? Maybe she hadn't finished college yet, but Donovan had. He could support a family. She handled such comments patiently, promising the various aunts, uncles, and cousins that babies would come in good time.

  But Tom's situation was different. His gaze went to Kate, and she saw torment in his eyes. "Dad, Mother. I have something to say."

  Julia put down her fork, her expression unreadable. "Yes, dear?"

  "Rachel is my best friend in the world, but we'll never get married." A muscle jumped in his cheek. "I...I've come to realize that I'm gay."

  Silence paralyzed the dining room. It was broken when Sam lurched to his feet, throwing down his napkin. "You're joking, right? Christ! It's a lousy joke!"

  "It's not a joke, Dad," Tom said tightly "Believe me, if I could be different, I would be. But God made me this way, and I can't change."

  "Don't bring God into this!" Sam shouted. "You're sick, screwed up. We'll get you to a doctor, someone who can cure you."

  Donovan scowled as if his brother-in-law had just turned into a cockroach and Julia's hand spasmed around her fork.. "This...this isn't what I would have wished for you, Tom. But you're my son and I love you. Nothing will ever change that."

  Sam stared at her, almost as shocked as he had been at Tom's announcement. "How can you act as if this disgusting idea of his is...is normal?"

  "Tom isn't sick, Sam," Julia said. "I've wondered for a long time, but hoped I was wrong."

  "Because you can't stand the idea of having a gay son?" Tom asked, voice edged.

  "Because I know that life is harder for those who are different, and what mother could want such difficulty for her child?" Julia reached across the table and laid her hand on his for a moment. "But sometimes a hard path is the only one there is."

  Tom looked terribly alone on the opposite side of the table. Kate went to stand by her brother, resting her hand on his shoulder. "I know this is a shock, Dad. It was for me when I found out. But Tom hasn't changed. Everything that has made you proud of him is still there."

  "Damn it, Kate, don't encourage him!" her father snapped.

  Donovan stared at her. "You knew about this and didn't tell me?"

  "It wasn't my place to speak before Tom was ready," she said.

  Tom drew an uneven breath. "I think it's best if I leave. I've been offered a job in San Francisco. The Bay Area is the place to be for anyone interested in small computer development."

  Sam swore. "It's also America's capital for perversion. Are you going there so you...you can..." His mouth worked, unable to speak of what he loathed.

  "I'm moving for a number of reasons," Tom said quietly. "One of them is to have more freedom to be myself in a place where my...my orientation won't embarrass you."

  "Stay here, Tom! I'll get you into treatment," Sam begged. "I don't care how much it costs or how long it takes, just so long as you try to get over these...these sick ideas."

  Tom shook his head. "I won't go to a therapist. A good one would say I am what I am. A bad one will give you false hope and try to make me think I'm a revolting pervert, which I'm not. I'm just...different in one way."

  "Tom, maybe if you just tried, until Dad adjusts to the idea," Kate said under her breath.

  "He won't, Kate," Tom said quietly. "And if I surrender now, I may lose myself forever."

  Voice shaking with anguish, Sam said, "If you refuse to change, then get out of my house now. Don't ever come back."

  "It's my house, too," Julia said sharply. "My children will always be welcome."

  With a roar of fury, Sam swept his arm across the table, knocking wine glasses to smash on the rug in blood-red stains. "Goddamn it, Julia, if you allow that...that degenerate into my house again, I swear to God I'll leave for good."

  "For good? I don't think so, Sam. For bigotry and pride, maybe, but not for good." Julia's words were steely, but her face was ashen.

  Dear God, would her mother be forced to choose between her husband and her son? Kate pressed a hand to the pain in her stomach, sick with the knowledge that her family would never be the same again.

  Tom intervened, "It's all right, Mother. You belong here. I'll manage." To his father, he said, "You needn't worry about me polluting your precious house. I promise never to set foot here again."

  Then he turned to Kate and hugged her hard. "Thanks, Katie. You don't know how much your support means," he whispered. "I'll be leaving for San Francisco within the week."

  He'd been planning this for some time, Kate realized. She couldn't blame him for wanting to escape.

  "To hell or San Francisco, it's all the same to me." Sam's chest heaved as he struggled for breath. "You are no longer my son."

  He stalked from the room. Julia watched him leave, her expression devastated.

  "I'm sorry you had to sit through a Corsi family fight, Donovan," Tom said. "Not a pretty sight."

  "How could you do that to Sam?" Donovan asked furiously. "He's given you everything! Instead of being grateful, you break his heart." He shoved his chair back and stood. "You stay the hell away from Kate."

  Appalled, Kate said, "Don't you dare talk to Tom like that! You have no right to tell me I can't see my own brother."

  "I have every right!" He grabbed Kate's wrist. "Sorry to walk out in the middle of dinner, Julia, but I think it's best to leave."


  Seeing Tom's frown, Kate gave a small shake of her head to tell him she was all right and mouthed the words, "I'll call."

  She had to jog to keep up with her husband's angry strides as he took her outdoors. After shoving her into his car, he slammed the door and went to his side of the vehicle, his expression thunderous.

  Kate said coldly, "You hurt my wrist."

  He started the car, then gunned it up the quiet tree-lined street. "You're lucky that's all I hurt!"

  She wanted to snap back, but she'd learned to be more cautious. When Donovan was in this mood, there was no telling what he might do. It was wiser, and safer, to wait until he'd cooled down.

  Neither of them spoke again until they reached their carport. She climbed out without waiting for him and headed into the house. Donovan caught up with her as she was digging in her purse for keys.

  "I'll do that." He opened the door, then stood aside for her.

  She brushed past him and into the kitchen. After a numb moment, she pulled a block of cheese from the refrigerator and took a slicing knife from the silverware drawer. She hadn't eaten since breakfast, and knew from experience that if she didn't get her blood sugar up right away, her temper would snap. God only knew what might happen then.

  Donovan followed her into the kitchen. "Sam won't have anything to do with Tom, and I want your promise that you won't, either. Your father has enough to upset him without having your disloyalty thrown in his face."

  "Disloyalty!" Outraged, Kate slapped the knife on the counter. "Sam is the one that's disloyal! How can he disown his own son over something that isn't Tom's fault?"

  "If Tom can't help himself, he should have had the decency to stay in the closet! I sure as hell was happier not knowing what turned him on."

  "No one should have to live that kind of lie." Kate took a deep breath, trying to slow her hammering pulse. "I'm not going to turn my back on Tom, and my mother won't, either. Frankly, I expected Sam to take the news badly, but I thought better of you. How could you be so rotten?"

  Canisters jumped as Donovan banged his fist onto the counter. "You're no one to talk about behavior! Christ, Kate, how could you lie to me? What else have you been hiding?"

  "There's a big difference between a lie and keeping someone else's secret!" she retorted. "I couldn't tell you about Tom when he'd specifically asked me not to. He obviously knew better than I what a jerk you'd be."

  Donovan exploded across the kitchen, tall and broad and furious. "Don't you talk to me that way! You're my wife, and I won't allow you to hurt Sam, or hang out with a bunch of queers."

  Her control shattered. "Why? Do you think that homosexuality is contagious?" she snapped, searching for words that would hurt him as much as he'd hurt her. "Are you secretly afraid you're really a Patsy, not a Patrick?"

  His fist smashed into her jaw, flinging her backward. She slammed into the edge of the counter. Head spinning, she clung to the cabinet, dazed and hurting but too furious to feel fear.

  After an appalled instant, Donovan moved toward her. "Jesus, Kate, you shouldn't make me do things like that!"

  His words struck her harder than his fist had. "You bastard! Don't you dare try to make this my fault! I've bent over backwards to be understanding about your rotten temper, to make allowances, but I've had enough! The problem is you, not me, and I'm not going to stay here to get hit again."

  Donovan froze, his expression horrified. "No. Kate, you can't leave me."

  She touched her numbed jaw, and knew with absolute certainty that if she didn't leave now, their marriage was doomed to a downward spiral of violence and fear. Gradually he had undermined her confidence, cut her off from her friends, isolated her more and more. If she stayed any longer, it would be as a broken woman.

  "I have to leave," she said unsteadily. "Maybe counseling will help, but I'm not staying in this house while we find out."

  She reached for her purse, but before she could get it, Donovan said desperately, "You can't go! You're the best thing that ever happened to me. I swear to God I'll never hurt you again!"

  Jerking her arm from his grip, she said bitterly, "You've said that before. And you know what? I don't believe you anymore."

  "We have so much! Don't throw it away in a moment of anger." He caught her shoulders, pleading, "I...I can't live without you."

  She could see his terror of losing her, but this time she was desperate, too. "Let me go!"

  Lost in his own private hell, he didn't hear her entreaty. Knotting his hand in her hair, he pulled her head back and locked his arm around her waist to hold her close as he kissed her with suffocating intensity.

  They had come together in passion and love a thousand times before. More than once, conflict had been healed by intimacy.

  This time she felt revulsion, and rising panic. God help her, she was at his mercy, helpless against his size and strength. Near hysteria, she twisted her face away, weeping. "Don't do this! Oh, God, please don't do this."

  As easily as if she were a child, he pushed her back against the counter. "You're mine, Kate, mine. I love you so much. I can't let anyone else have you."

  His hands trapping her in a bruising grip, he kissed her again. Her frantic hand swept across the counter, seeking a weapon. Found a familiar long, narrow shape. Clutched. Raised.

  Stabbed.

  He cried out and let her go, staggering back against the refrigerator as blood spilled from a slash that ran from his left shoulder to his elbow. With shaking fingers he touched the wound, then stared at the crimson stains.

  She almost vomited at the sight of his blood. Dear God in heaven, she might have killed him!

  He raised his gaze and the expression on his face would haunt her forever. For an eternal moment they stared at each other as the fabric of their marriage, the last threads of intimacy and commitment and trust, ripped asunder.

  Trying to deny the shattering truth, Donovan said in a voice of eerie calm, "Don't worry, Kate, it's not deep. I've been hurt worse working on my car. I'll be fine. Let's just...sit down and give ourselves a chance to unwind."

  Numbly she stared at the stained knife still in her hand. "It's too late, Patrick," she whispered.

  "No! It can't be too late!" he said, agonized.

  She shook her head wordlessly. Wishing she were dead.

  A terrible resignation came over him, like a man who had been mortally wounded and knew that further struggle for life would be futile. He sagged back against the refrigerator and slowly slid to the floor. "It's all my fault. I'm sorry, Kate. So...damned...sorry."

  She gazed at him for one last time, the handsome face that she loved, the strong body that had given her such joy.

  The blood that seeped between his fingers.

  This was the man she had thought would be beside her as long as they both should live. How could she bear to leave him?

  In a voice laced with anguish, he whispered, "If you're going to go, do it quickly, Kate. For both our sakes."

  Saturated with pain beyond anything she had ever imagined, she carefully laid the stained knife on the counter. Then she lifted her purse and walked out of the house that had known her greatest happiness and her blackest sorrow.

  She didn't see the man she had married for ten long years.

  Chapter 30

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  "Kate, you still with us?" Val's voice broke Kate's reverie. Pulling herself back to the present, she said, "Trying to decide between peach cobbler and Death of a Thousand Chocolates cake is serious business and requires concentration."

  "Get the peach cobbler," Laurel advised. "I'm doing the chocolate cake. We can share. That way, we'll both survive."

  When they finally ended their three-hour lunch, Laurel said, "Kate, Rachel, do you want to come with Val and me to the crafts expo?"

  "I was there yesterday, buying the place out," Kate answered. "There won't be anything left for you today."

  "Would you like to go for a walk, Kate?" Rachel said. "I could use some fr
esh air."

  Kate knew that more than a walk was being offered. "That would be nice. We can look for crocuses."

  "Croci," Val said. "Remember your Latin declensions, girls."

  On a wave of laughter and hugs, they settled the bill with a tip that would double the waitress's income for the day, then went into the pale spring sunshine. Laurel climbed into Val's old Toyota, and the two of them headed for downtown.

  As Kate and Rachel crossed the small lot to the street, Kate said idly, "A silver Honda just like mine is parked next to my car."

  "The burgundy one is yours? The silver car is mine."

  "We always did have similar tastes. When my Honda arrived in Baltimore, courtesy of a couple of east-bound grad students, Donovan told me I was a lemming with no automotive imagination."

  "Men. What did you say?"

  "That if it's lemming-like to appreciate a reliable, well-designed car, then lead me to the nearest cliff. Donovan, naturally, prefers vehicles with attitude, like his Harley and classic Corvette."

  Rachel turned left along Roland Avenue, the tree-lined residential boulevard that ran through Roland Park. "You were off in Never-Never land there for a while."

  "If only it had been Never-Never land. I went somewhere very real."

  "I thought as much. Were you thinking of the day you left Donovan?"

  Kate had driven around in a daze, ending at Rachel's apartment. Her shocked friend had put aside her textbooks and tended Kate's hurts. She wanted to see Donovan arrested and thrown into jail immediately, but Kate had flatly refused to allow Rachel to call anyone but Tom. Instinctively she'd known it was essential to think through what had happened before setting into motion events beyond her control.

  "Yes. I still think silence was best. My father was devastated at Tom's coming out, and my insistence on divorce was almost as bad. Donovan was the son he'd always wanted, the most satisfactory of his children. It would have broken Sam's heart to know that Donovan was abusing me. Besides, maybe the police would have arrested me. Donovan was the one who got knifed."