Nurture

by Susan X Meagher

  "She seemed perfectly happy to me," Jim said. "Perfectly."

  "That's not how I saw her."

  Jim waited for his father to continue, but he didn't add a word. Impatiently, Jim asked, "Are you going to tell me how you saw her? Or do I have to guess?"

  "I'll tell you if you want to know."

  "Of course I want to know. I do value your opinion, you know."

  "You don't ask for it very often," Charles said neutrally.

  Eyes narrowing, Jim said, "I'm asking now."

  "All right." He pursed his lips and looked at a spot to the left of Jim's head. He thought for a few moments, then said, "Jamie always seemed like a girl who wanted to do the right thing."

  "And that's bad?"

  "Only when she's not the one who's deciding what's right," Charles said. "Jamie wanted to please you and Catherine-you in particular. She wanted to be the perfect daughter, the perfect granddaughter, the perfect student. But she didn't seem to get much pleasure out of striving for those goals. She seemed … lifeless, in a way. Like she was playing a role rather than making up her own mind about her life." He took a long sip of his drink and set it down with a thump. "I've seen more joy in that girl's face in the last year than I did in the previous twenty-one. And I'm damned glad for it."

  "She still loves you," Jim grumbled. He was slumped in his seat, looking like he did when he was a teenager.

  "She loves you too, Jim. The fact that she's hung in there with some of the pranks you've pulled proves that."

  Jim slowly shook his head, looking completely defeated. "I don't know if she loves me or not. Sometimes I think we'll have one of those relationships where we get together just to argue."

  "It doesn't have to be that way, Jim. I know Jamie doesn't want that."

  Raising one dark blond eyebrow, Jim asked, "You know that for a fact?"

  "I do. She loves you very much and she wishes you could get past some of the things that have been causing friction. But there's only so much she can do."

  "So … the ball's in my court, huh?"

  "Jamie hasn't said that. But I would."

  On Tuesday morning, Ryan was unnaturally verbal at her group therapy session. As soon as it was her turn, she said, "I can't drive anymore."

  She had a strange look on her face, and Ellen wasn't sure if she was going to continue. After a few seconds, the therapist asked, "How long has it been since you felt like driving?"

  "Oh." Ryan nodded to herself. "I can drive if I'm alone. I just can't do it if anyone's in the car with me. I think Jamie's gonna figure it out pretty soon, 'cause I used to drive every time we rode together."

  "And you don't want to tell her?" Ellen asked. "She might be able to help you, Ryan."

  The young woman looked at her for a second, eying her warily. "How could she help me?"

  Turning her gaze to the group, Ellen asked, "Anyone have any ideas?"

  Helen raised her hand. "I wasn't able to go to my husband's office to pick up his things after he died. They kept calling me, reminding me, and every time I felt so humiliated that I couldn't face it." She looked at Ryan. "I stopped answering the phone, just so I didn't have to explain why I couldn't come."

  "What did you do?" Ryan asked, intensely interested.

  "A friend was visiting one day when the office called, and she could tell something was wrong. She offered to go for me," she said, smiling fondly. "But just hearing how easy it seemed for her to go gave me some courage. I called the secretary back, and my friend and I went that very afternoon." She paused for a second, then wiped her eye with the back of her hand. "There were some wonderful things in that box. I'm glad I got them."

  Ryan smiled at her, the empathetic look conveying her understanding. "I'm glad you did, too."

  "Do you think that Jamie might be able to go on some short rides around town with you, Ryan? Just for a little experiment?"

  "She would," Ryan said. "But I'm not ready. It's … too much. Too much."

  "What is?"

  Pursing her lips in her most annoyed fashion, Ryan said, "She already has to change her schedule around to go on my road trips. I don't want to ask her to do anything else. It's enough."

  "But you need more," Ellen gently suggested.

  "I don't want her to worry about me," Ryan said. "I'm fine when I'm alone. I don't feel much different when I'm walking around town or driving. But when I'm with her or her mom, I can't relax if we're outside. Everybody looks like a killer. If I'm a passenger, I can keep an eye on more things. Nobody's gonna sneak up on us again," she said, her eyes burning.

  Ellen didn't want to press her, and no one else volunteered to speak, so she let it drop. But she made a mental note to bring it up again the next week to see if Ryan would consider taking another step in her recovery.

  Dinner was waiting when Ryan got home from practice on Thursday night. Her nose twitched, trying to guess what they were having as she went into the kitchen.

  Jamie turned just as Ryan was about to touch her, and the smaller woman jumped. "You were sneaking up on me again!"

  Ryan put her arms around Jamie and hugged her tight. "I was not. I'm just quiet."

  "I think you learned how to be quiet so you can sneak up on people." Jamie let her head drop back and looked up at her lover. "Why haven't I been kissed?"

  Rather than answer, Ryan's head bent and she kissed the soft lips that always made her feel like she was home. "Missed you," she said.

  Jamie hugged her, holding on tightly. When she moved away, she asked, "Did you really? You're usually too busy to miss me."

  Ryan sat on a stool and rested her head on her hand. "Yeah, I did. I just found out that someone I really admire died, and I was bummed. You always make me feel better when I'm upset."

  Jamie was holding her before the brunette finished her sentence. "Honey! Who died?"

  Resting her head on her lover's breast, Ryan said, "W.D. Hamilton."

  "Uhm … should I know him?"

  Nodding, Ryan said, "You should, but I'm sure you don't. He'll probably be a household name in a hundred years if his theories hold up." She looked at Jamie and saw total befuddlement. "I'm sorry." She pulled back. "He was a biologist. One of the most original thinkers … ever."

  Squeezing her partner's shoulder, Jamie walked back to the stove to finish the meal. "Tell me about him."

  "The sucky thing is that he was perfectly healthy," Ryan said. "Only about sixty-five. But he contracted malaria and died while he was in the Congo. He was investigating the theory that AIDS came from infected polio vaccines given in central Africa in the 1950's."

  "Wow. Is that really possible?"

  "Sure. I've got the book that explains the theory, but I haven't had time to read it."

  Jamie shook her head. "There's so much we don't know. You try to wipe out one disease, and you wind up killing millions more."

  Ryan gave her a thoughtful look. "That's one of the reasons I worry about being a scientist."

  "What?"

  "We know so little," Ryan said. "Sometimes I feel like we're stumbling around in almost complete darkness. I mean, Hamilton was a big deal … a very big deal. But what was he able to do … to really do during his life?"

  She folded her arms and laid her head on them, a pose Jamie found impossibly endearing.

  "One of the great thinkers of our time, and even though his contributions to biology are huge, I don't think one life has been saved because of his work." She frowned and mumbled something to herself. "Sometimes I think I'd better stick with math."

  "You don't have to decide tonight, baby. You just have to decide what kind of dressing you want on your salad."

  Ryan got up and walked over to her partner. "Your choice. The chef knows best. All I know is that I'm hungry."

  "That's my girl," the blonde said, and gave her another hug. "You'll feel better after you eat. You always do."

  "Then why do I ever feel bad?" Ryan asked. "I'm always eating."

  The next afternoon, Ryan
had an hour free before practice, so she found a sunny spot on the lawn near the softball field and pulled out her cell phone. Hitting the speed dial, she waited a minute, then said, "Hey. It's me."

  "I thought you'd lost my number," Ally Webster said. "Where the hell have you been?"

  "Running my ass off," Ryan admitted. "I know this is hard to believe, but this is the first unscheduled hour I've had in weeks."

  "Where are you? I hear birds chirping."

  "I'm lying on the grass near the softball field. I have practice soon."

  "You guys are doing great," Ally said. "Sara keeps me up to date. She gets an e-mail about your and Jamie's teams."

  "You should come see us play," Ryan said. "Although we probably play when you're working."

  "My weekends are pretty booked," Ally said. "Makes it hard to spend as much time with Sara as I'd like."

  "How's it going?" Ryan asked. "Still hot and heavy?"

  Ally laughed. "None of your business, hot stuff. You know I don't kiss and tell."

  "I wasn't asking about the sex," Ryan said, chuckling. "Sheesh! You do have a relationship outside of the bedroom, don't you?"

  "Yeah," Ally drawled. "What do you want to know about it?"

  "I wanna know how you both are," Ryan said, frustrated with her friend's reticence. "What's going on? Are you mad at me?"

  "How can I be mad at you? I haven't seen you. Or talked to you. Or gotten a post card."

  "Okay, okay," Ryan said. "You've got me dead to rights. But I did send you an e-mail."

  "After I called you," Ally said. "That's what I do when I don't wanna talk to someone."

  Ryan was quiet for a moment, debating how frank to be. "I really don't want you to take this personally," she said. "I haven't had time for any of my friends. Hell, I haven't had time for Jamie. I'm … in over my head."

  "Aw, sugar, tell me what's going on?"

  "Nothing bad," Ryan said. "I'm just really overscheduled. I'm not seeing my family enough, I haven't taken my poor dog for a walk in a month, Caitlin could've learned to read for all I know!"

  Ally laughed. "I kinda doubt you're that disconnected, but I get your message. And I won't take it personally."

  "I feel disconnected," Ryan said, feeling a little uncomfortable when the words left her mouth.

  "Tell me about it," Ally said. "I'm your friend."

  "I know," Ryan said. "But I can't explain it. Things just aren't clicking for me right now. I'm just trying to hold on until we graduate. Then I can reconnect with Jamie. It seems like all we do together is eat and sleep."

  "How's Jamie doing?" Ally asked. "We saw her piece in the paper. That must have been fun."

  "Yeah. A real blast," Ryan said, chuckling mirthlessly. "She's good, though. Too busy, but good."

  "We're gonna have to get together," Ally said. "When will you have more time?"

  "After graduation. We're taking time off after that. I plan on sleeping through June."

  "I know you, Rock. That'll last about one day, then you'll be itching to get going again. Face it, you're hyperactive."

  "I guess I can't argue with that," Ryan said. "You'd know better than most."

  "Yeah, I guess I would. We had some great times together, baby, but it's nice to be in a relationship, isn't it?"

  "Sure is," Ryan said. "I was about to blow a gasket."

  Ally laughed. "I'm glad you're happily hooked up. But don't forget your old buddies, okay? We both love you."

  "I love you guys, too," Ryan said, the words feeling strange rolling off her tongue. "We'll get together as soon as we can, okay?"

  "Deal. Give my best to Jamie."

  "I will. Same for Sara. Bye."

  Ryan hung up and rolled onto her back again. There was something very strange about talking with Ally on the phone. She knew she could get used to it over time, but she wasn't sure they'd ever be able to be platonic friends. Feeling glum, she pulled out her laptop and started writing a long e-mail to her cousin Aisling, always feeling better when she vented her feelings to the person she could trust with every secret.

  Part Fifteen

  On Sunday afternoon, most of the members of the O'Flaherty family attended Ryan's game at Stanford. The few who couldn't make it found their schedules freed up later in the afternoon for the barbeque-pool party at Catherine's house.

  Nearly fifty people crowded around the pool, with most of Ryan's teammates playing with Caitlin, who was, as usual, the belle of the ball. The late afternoon sun was warm, and the party was noisy and getting noisier.

  Marta and Helena had been working hard, and once all of the food was set up on the outdoor tables Catherine insisted that both women take a long break.

  As usual, Marta tried to refuse. "I don't need a break," she said, indignantly. "I do nothing all week; I enjoy having these parties."

  "I know you do," Catherine said. "But there's going to be a big cleanup job later on. I happen to know you've been on your feet since seven o'clock this morning, and even you get tired, my friend."

  "I'm not tired," Marta said. She was standing with her hands on her hips, looking like a child refusing her afternoon nap.

  Unexpectedly, Catherine hugged her, holding on until the older woman relaxed and returned the gesture. Catherine let her go, but not before placing an affectionate kiss on her cheek. "You don't have to rest," she said. "You can go join the party."

  Marta narrowed her eyes, knowing she'd lost the battle. "I'll go read my book," she said, giving Catherine a faux scowl as she turned and left the room.

  Marta and Helene were both ensconced in their rooms and Catherine was just about to leave the kitchen when the doorbell rang. She was puzzled, since all of the family members knew to walk around the side of the house to join a party in progress. It must be one of Ryan's teammates. She went to the entryway and opened the door. She was struck mute to find not a fresh-faced young woman, but a suave, handsome, charming, sexy man smiling at her. A man she had hoped she'd never have to see again.

  "Buona sera," he said, taking her limp hand to his soft, full lips to kiss it tenderly.

  "Giacomo," she whispered, feeling she might faint.

  "May I come in?"

  The manners that had been drummed into her compelled her to step aside and let him enter. As he passed, his scent tickled her nose, and her body reacted as it always had when she was near him. Tingling, she followed him into the living room, where he was pointing at a sofa.

  "May I?"

  She nodded, still unable to manage even a fragment of a sentence. She sat in an upholstered chair, not daring to get close enough to smell him or feel his always-warm body.

  "You're so far away," he said, giving her the little pout that always melted her heart.

  "You got my letter," she said, dancing away from his comment.

  "Of course I did. Why else would I arrive, unannounced? I knew you'd refuse my visit, but I had to see you."

  Catherine gestured towards the rear of the house, whence music and loud voices emanated. "This is a very bad time," she said. "I'm having a party."

  "I can hear that," he said, a seductive smile starting at the corner of his mouth. "There must be a lot of people here."

  "There are," she said emphatically.

  "Good. They won't miss you. Let's go …" He looked around, getting a sense of the layout. "Upstairs. We'll have privacy there, no?"

  "No!"

  The vehemence of her reaction took him by surprise. He got up and was next to her before she could say another word. He knelt beside her, his hand slipping into her hair and cradling the back of her head.

  Involuntarily, she leaned into his touch, the action so sweetly familiar that she was unable to stop herself.

  "I've come so far," he said, his warm, sensual voice sending shivers down her spine. "Don't send me away." He pulled her a little closer, pleased when she didn't fight him. His head moved towards hers, and soon they were a fraction of an inch apart. Catherine's eyes were half-closed and her lips parted
just enough to invite his advance. Gently, he broached the distance and touched her lips with his.

  She didn't want to give in. She knew it was sheer madness, but he was so warm and tender and smelled so tremendously wonderful that she couldn't resist. Just like the first time they'd kissed, her stomach somersaulted and she felt light-headed when their lips met. Her hand came to rest on his muscular shoulder, and she let it move across the silky feel of his suit jacket.

  Giacomo took in a deep breath, and Catherine felt as if he were breathing her into his body. She reacted without a concern, sliding her arm around his back and drawing him close. Her mouth opened, and his warm tongue darted inside, making her whole body prickle with sensation.

  Suddenly, her orientation changed and she felt him effortlessly pick her up. In a blink, she was on his lap, and he was kissing her with such passion that she forgot where they were or why he was in her living room. All she was able to do was move with him, feel his heart beat, follow his warm tongue, and purr when his hands moved over her body.

  The zeal with which they kissed was nothing new. From the first, they'd instinctively sparked in just that way. A quick kiss usually led to many more-often to making love, just when they were getting ready to part after an entire afternoon of pleasuring each other.

  It was the first time in her life she'd had such carnal hunger for a man. Their connection produced such a heady rush that, once they'd started to kiss, neither had any control. And since Catherine hadn't been intimate with a man since the previous summer, her hunger for his touch was omnivorous.

  After a particularly incendiary kiss, Giacomo tightened his hold around her body and stood. He was momentarily indecisive, but then headed for the staircase he'd seen. He was halfway up, with Catherine placing soft kisses along his jaw line when he noticed a woman standing in the hall, staring at them. She looked like she'd been shocked with a jolt of electricity, and he knew he couldn't ignore her-even though Catherine hadn't seen her.

  Regretfully, he stopped and put Catherine onto her weak legs, tucking an arm around her waist as he turned her towards the woman.