Seven
Later that week Joshua knocked gently on the open office door to catch Sylvia’s attention. Her warm smile welcomed him in. “Hey, how’s Casanova these days.” “I guess I deserve that. How’s the anchorman?” “He seems to have moved on. Guess who?” Joshua glared at her. “No... Hope wouldn’t...” “Oh yes she would. It’s fine with me. He was just a handsome face, pleasant company—-someone to be seen with.” She sighed and propped her cheek with her bent arm. “I hope Hope realizes that.” “She won’t fall for him. She wasn’t impressed when she met him at the open house. She didn’t even recognize him.” “Maybe he sees her as a challenge.” “Isn’t that the truth?” “I was probably too easy. I always am.” “Sweet Sylvie, if he’s too lazy to work for it, he ain’t worth it.” “Thanks, good buddy.” They sat in silence for long minutes, and then sighed at the same time. “So do you want to go out for a drink?” Joshua asked. “Kimmie’s with my parents this evening.” “Only if you don’t put the make on me ‘cause I wouldn’t be able to refuse.” “Yeah, right,” he said with a chuckle. “Actually, I want to talk to you away from the office—personal request, not corporate.” She eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t like the sound of this. Is it illegal?” He opened his mouth to speak and snapped it shut again. “Not necessarily,” he finally said. “I want to get a background check on Hope so I can figure out how to help her. I don’t care about finances. I want to know who her husband was and the conditions of her divorce. He screwed her royally, I know he did.” She shook her head. “Oh, Joshua, I wish I could help, but you know the laws.” “I know she had a child who haunts her. Is the child alive or dead? If it’s alive, why doesn’t she have visitation rights?” “Maybe she didn’t want it. Not every woman was meant to be a mother.” He fixed a deadpan look on her. “Okay, I concede. Hope doesn’t fit that category.” “I don’t even necessarily have to know what happened, as long as someone knows and helps her get over it, except that I’d love to see that bastard pay for his sins.” Joshua rested his face in his hands, massaging his throbbing temples with his thumbs. The raging headache lessened briefly. “Help me help her, Sylvia. She needs us.” “Does this mean you aren’t taking me out for a drink?” His laugh bordered on hysteria. Sylvia circled around the desk separating them and patted him on the back. “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, all you can do is to be there for her if she needs someone.” ~ * ~ Joshua stood at his front window and watched for Hope to come home after her classes that night. His parents had offered to keep Kimmie overnight so Joshua could catch up with the whirl of shopping and wrapping and holiday demands. He made a dent in his list tonight, and he could have done more, but here he was waiting for his neighbor lady who apparently did not want his interference, advice or attention. She’d make it clear enough. You’d think he would listen. But he worried about her. She had no one else who cared about her, no one willing to help. Surely he was making progress. He could see it in her eyes. The blue iris had been a bitter stormy blue when he first met her, gradually melting to a haunting blue-grey. He wanted to see turquoise hope glimmer through from their depths, and even a crystal blue happiness surface someday. Maybe those goals were naïve of him, but why not go for the brass ring? Miracles happened at Christmas time. The bus passed his view. She’d be home in a few minutes. He retrieved his blue ski jacket from the front closet, not wanting to scare her in the dark, dressed all in black. He went back to the window and within a minute, spotted her coming down the sidewalk. He shut the door just as she reached her front step. “Hope!” She let out a startled yelp. “It’s me, Joshua.” He moved within the arc of light from her porch. “Jeez, you scared the hell out of me.” “Sorry. I wanted to catch you.” “Is something wrong? Do you need me to sit with Kimmie?” “No, I want to talk to you. Can we go inside?” “Joshua, it’s late. I’m tired.” “Are you scared to be alone with me?” He moved closer, well within her space. She backed up, clutching her keys like a lifeline. Joshua followed, trapping her between him and the door. “Don’t be afraid.” He reached out and placed his hand on her neck, caressing her and urging her to come to him. She stood as still as a statue. “What do you want?” she whispered. “You.” Not quite what he’d meant to say, but it was the truth. She laughed nervously. “Have you been drinking?” He shook his head. “Invite me in.” “It’s late, Joshua. Go home. We’ll talk tomorrow.” “Why not now?” “Listen, I know it’s been a while since you had sex, and maybe that kiss under the mistletoe gave you ideas...” He pushed her none too gently against the door. “Don’t you dare try to blame it on the mistletoe! You know damn well there’s something between us, has been since the minute we met. That’s why you keep pushing me away. You’re afraid.” She narrowed her eyes and attempted to stare him down. “This briefcase is heavy. I won’t hesitate to use it as a weapon if you don’t stop now.” He moved in closer, and wrapped his left arm around her waist. With the right hand, he undid the top button of her coat. She closed her eyes, which he interpreted as permission to unhook the rest of the buttons. Once he’d completed the task, he drew the lapels aside and pulled her to him, placing gentle kisses on her check, down her throat to the top button of her silk blouse. “Breathe,” he told her. “What?” “You’ll pass out if you keep holding your breath.” He touched her breast, causing her to suck in a breath in surprise. “That’s better. Now invite me in.” “I already told you no.” He brought his lips close to her ear. “Touch me, Hope. Feel how bad I need you.” He grabbed her hand in a firm grasp and brushed it over his aching erection. She jerked her hand away, but soon let it settle back onto his erection. He groaned and covered her lips, caressed her breast through the silk, ran his hand down her slim body to the ‘V’ between her legs. The sudden blast of a car’s horn jerked them apart. “Take it inside!” the driver yelled. Joshua took the keys from her hand. He surprised himself by fitting the key in the lock on the first try. ~ * ~ Once inside Hope counseled herself to calm down and diffuse the situation. They were making a mistake, jumping into a big mess. They barely knew each other. She’d only had one lover in her life, and he’d married her. And divorced her. What happened to the promises they’d made one another? Where were the guarantees? She’d been alone for more than three years now. Didn’t she deserve some pleasure in life? Joshua nuzzled her ear, and she turned her face for a kiss. One look at the hunger in his eyes made her knees crumple. She would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her. He carried her across the foyer, sat her down on the staircase and started pulling his clothes off. His shoes landed on the floor with a thump. Shucking out of her coat, she unbuttoned her blouse and pushed the wool slacks down her legs, along with her pantyhose and panties. “Help me,” he said, handing her a foil packet. His fingers shook with his desire. Never had she been asked to share the ritual. Never had Mark been so affected by desire that he needed help opening a condom. At least not with her. They came together fast and wild. She’d never experienced the wanton passion they created together; never cried over the beauty of relief afterward; never wished to stay in a man’s arms for the rest of her life. He had to go to the drugstore for more protection. Later. In the comfort of her bed, he linked their hands together. “Tell me what makes you so sad.” She groaned. “Don’t ruin the magic. I’ve never been so content in my life.” “I can help you, whatever it is.” She shook her head. “You’ve already helped me. I’ll remember this night the rest of my life.” “We’ll live every night of our lives together.” She touched his lips with her fingertips. “Don’t make promises. I don’t need them. Just being with you is enough for now.” She crawled on top of him. “Love me one more time.” “And then we’ll talk.” “Shush.” She drew the word out, letting him know without words that there would be no confessions on her part. ~ * ~ Hope slept through the night for the first time in years. Joshua woke her early the next morning with tender kisses. “Good morning, beautiful.” She opened one eye and half-way glared at him. “Yeah, right. As if any woman could look beautiful after a nig
ht of debauchery.” “I brought you coffee.” She inhaled deeply, opened the other eye and struggled into a sitting position. “I may keep you around.” “I sure hope so.” He kissed her thoroughly. “I have to go. I’m due in court today, but tonight, we need to talk.” “About?” He laid he face against hers. “About whatever it is that’s haunting you. I want to help.” She drew back and looked him in the eye. “You don’t understand. What’s done is past. I’m not about to dig it out and beat it to death. Nothing will change the past, therefore it’s not worth discussing.” “Unless it affects the future.” He tweaked her nose. “See you later.” “Good luck in court.” He shook his head. “It’s just a formality. He’s guilty.” “Why let him go to the trial if he’s guilty?” “He’s a punk. I recommended he take a plea, but he thinks he can charm his way out of trouble.” “You don’t believe in your own client. Why represent him?” “It’s my job. I provide the best possible defense I can, under the circumstances. I gotta go. See you later.” One last kiss and he was gone. She already missed him.
Eight
Hope was in her office humming a love song later that morning when the call came in from Sylvia. “Hey, remember we were going to meet for lunch? That was ages ago and you never called me.” “I’ve been busy,” Hope said. “I’m taking a couple of on-line courses over the Christmas break.” “Oh, yeah, I remember now. You’re working on your Masters. Sounds like a lot of work, but it looks good on the résumé.” Hope frowned. “Are you suggesting that I shouldn’t bother?” “Why would you assume that? I’m all in favor of women improving themselves. Nothing personal.” “I guess I’m overly sensitive. People seem to frown on my occupation. ‘I don’t get no respect.’” “Credit rating companies are a necessary evil. As long as they operate objectively, there’s no problem.” Except that was her problem. The more Hope progressed up the corporate ladder and earned the company’s trust, the more access she had to true company policy. And the more she delved into the company’s innermost, unwritten policies and procedures, the more uneasy she grew. Was that how the industry worked and she was simply naïve? And did she really need to work for a company she could no longer respect? There was also the issue of lawsuits against the company that Joshua had brought up the day they met. If he thought it was a red flag, she should probably be suspicious. Or maybe she should more closely research her employer’s reputation. “So when can we do lunch?” Sylvia’s question drew Hope out of her reverie. “Next week?” “Why not today?” “Oh, I have... umm.” I have high hopes Joshua will call me. “I’ll meet you at the pasta place right up the road from where you work. One o’clock.” “You’re making it difficult for me to refuse. Why does that tell me that you have a hidden agenda? Wouldn’t have something to do with Joshua, by any chance?” “I would never interfere with your relationship with Joshua.” “What do you mean, relationship?” Surely Joshua didn’t tell Sylvia they’d been intimate? “It’s just an expression.” “Oh. Oh! I forgot about John Dixon! I didn’t mean to break you two up! He said you had no interest in him. And you know what? Neither do I.” Sylvia laughed, and Hope soon joined in. “That’s the truth,” Sylvia said. “He’s a pretty face, someone good to be seen with. We don’t need him, either of us.” Hope giggled. “He thinks very highly of himself. Just ask him.” “I’ll see you at lunch.” ~ * ~ The minute Hope entered the restaurant and saw Joshua standing with Sylvia, she knew they’d railroaded her. They’d ganged up on her, determined to open her secret box or horrors. She turned to leave but Joshua was too quick, drawing her to him just a little too closely. “Hello! How are you today?” he asked. “I’m fine, thank you.” Hope faked a smile. “I don’t have much time for lunch. It’s a busy time of year.” Sylvia, sidled up to her. “Good to see you again. Love your suit.” “Thanks. What’s going on?” “Nothing you need to worry about. And I agreed to interfere only because I love you. Remember, we have your best interests at heart.” Hope stuck her tongue out at her new friend. Her own childish gesture made her smile. She couldn’t be angry for long. Joshua caught her attention. “My parents send their regards. You made a positive impression on them at the open house.” She knew he couldn’t say the same for his sister because Julie could see though Hope’s veneer of respectability. “They seem really nice.” It made her sad because she genuinely did like all his family she’d met so far, even Julie, who was only protecting her brother’s feelings. After the night of passion they’d shared, Julie definitely had something to worry about. Hope had to admire his sister’s loyalty. The hostess approached. “Table for three?” “Yes, please.” Joshua replied and placed his hand on Hope’s arm, whether to be gentlemanly or because he feared she’d run away, she couldn’t say. She resisted the urge to lean into his warmth. She needed strength to endure this lunch, or otherwise she’d make a fool of herself fawning over him. She could still feel him inside her, slow and easy, bringing her to grand climax. That’s why it hurt now, because she’d lose him if he unraveled her secrets. She especially needed strength when the hostess showed them to a booth, and Sylvia and Joshua maneuvered her on the inside next to him. She glared at them. If she were in court, they’d consider her a hostile witness. No way would they force information from her unwillingly. The lunch crowd was already thinning out, a danger sign to Hope. This had every sign of a set-up, and she already knew the topic of conversation. Joshua ordered a bottle of wine with a name she’d never heard. From their short acquaintance, she assumed he’d know a good wine without an outrageous price tag. “Just in case you plan to get me drunk and expect me to spill the beans, I warn you, I have a high tolerance for alcohol.” Joshua snorted. Sylvia smiled at Hope benignly. “We have all sorts of torture tactics planned. No, what am I thinking! They’re for kinky sex. Joshua can try them on you later, at home.” She sobered and reached across the table to pat Hope’s hand. “We’re doing this for your own good.” “You’re lawyers. Everybody knows that your only concern is billable hours. I read Grisham.” They both laughed. A waiter approached the table with a silver ice bucket, along with a charming green bottle with crisscrossing string. Hope hadn’t kept up on wines in the past few years since her divorce, so she was unfamiliar with the label. She seldom drank. Once Joshua completed the formal protocol of tasting the wine, and the waiter poured and then bowed himself away, Joshua raised his glass. “Merry Christmas.” His toast surprised Hope. She’s expected him to drone on about truth and justice and the American way. He sat back and turned toward her. His tangy aftershave wafted to her, fresh and masculine. “So why don’t you tell us about your sordid past and let us fix whatever went wrong.” “As if you could.” “Try it. What do you have to lose?” They stared her down, and finally she shrugged. “It’s not high drama. I had a nervous breakdown after my daughter was born and my husband divorced me. I had no means of support so he got custody.” “That’s rather simplistic,” Sylvia commented. A perky waitress stopped at their table. “Are you ready to order?” All too soon the waitress left with their order and Sylvia and Joshua reverted to staring her down. “Where did you grow up?” Joshua asked. “Highland Park, a suburb of Chicago.” “Aha!” Sylvia interrupted. “Highland Park is close to the city but protected from the noise and bustle. So you grew up tucked away in your daddy’s stone castle along the shore of Lake Michigan.” Hope lifted her chin. “My father is a lawyer, a partner in a prestigious firm in downtown Chicago. He works hard and has every right to live in Highland Park.” “And your mother?” Sylvia asked. “I don’t really remember her. Father changes wives every few years. He pays more in alimony than many small countries have in their national treasury.” Joshua turned toward her. “Are you an only child?” Hope shook her head. “I have two younger step-brothers. I’ve lost track of them in the last couple years.” She shrugged. “We were never very close. They were a lot younger.” An image flashed through her mind, two stocky toddlers rolling on the floor from her tickles, all three children giggling and having fun together. They had been close for many years. She won
dered where they were now. “So when your father changed wives, who got custody?” “Father did, of course.” She swirled her wine in the glass, fascinated by the whirlpool she’d created, not unlike her life. “I’m not sure why he wanted his children to stay with him. He seldom paid attention to any of us three. It must have been a control thing.” Another swirl and she spoke again. “Although, when I got older—seventeen or eighteen—he relied on me to plan his dinner parties and serve as hostess. His last couple of wives didn’t seem capable of entertaining. I think the only way they could stand him was with drugs. Alcohol, marijuana, cocaine—I don’t know for sure what else. Ecstasy, maybe.” She noticed Sylvia and Joshua exchange a look. “I never took drugs,” she said in her own defense. She shook her head and took a deep breath, but memories flooded her brain. From her earliest recollections, her step-mothers’ declines were never pleasant to watch. She’d seen five women with the name Mrs. Martin Hardcastle fail in twenty-one years. There had probably been at least another one since Hope’s fall from grace. His women came into his household with such hope and pride, but her father was a demanding husband, in and out of the bedroom, from what she’d observed. He expected total devotion and absolute perfection in his family and staff. Sylvia reached across the table to squeeze Hope’s hand. “So how did you meet your husband?” “Oh, he was a junior partner in my father’s firm. He came to one of the dinner parties. Father probably invited him specifically to meet me, or at least Mark courted me from then on. I know that sounds old-fashioned, but there’s no other name for it. It seemed so romantic at the time. He wanted me as his wife and went about winning my hand.” Joshua frowned and sat up straight. “Because of your father?” “Of course. What other way guarantees an immediate partnership?” “How old were you when you married?” Sylvia asked. “Twenty. Mark promised I could finish college after we married. Father gave us a house as a wedding present, a beautiful brick two story, and it just wasn’t working out to continue taking classes. I couldn’t keep up with the normal cleaning and cooking and decorating, and then I got pregnant.” She sighed heavily. “Stupid.” “What is stupid?” Sylvia asked. “We could have hired a cleaning lady and a decorator. Even a cook, though I could have handled the kitchen. We went out for dinner more than we ate in. He just had to control me, to make sure I—” When she failed to finish, Joshua asked, “What?” “I don’t know. He made sure I stayed stupid, I suppose, looked upon him as a god, like I did my father.” “Did you really?” Sylvia asked. “I would have thought you’d despise your father for the way he treated your mother, the parade of women in his house.” “I thought he was perfect. Casanova and James Bond and Sean Connery all rolled into one. He’s very sexy and debonair, wealthy and intelligent.” Sylvia stirred in her seat and exchanged a glance with Joshua. “No, we were not lovers,” Hope said. “He was very much a father figure to me, one I loved and admired. If you’d ever met him, you’d understand.” “Yet he didn’t feel the same for you,” Joshua said, “or he wouldn’t have tolerated the way your husband treated you.” The truth hurt and if she weren’t trapped on the inside seat of the booth, she would have bolted out of there. “What do you want of me? All I’m trying to do is bury the past and build a new life.” Joshua stared her down. “And it’s been what, three years? Some things you can’t bury. They keep coming back to haunt you.” She shook her head, even while realizing he spoke from experience. A waiter brought their salads. “Bon appetite!” he said before departing. Her companions dug in with relish. Hope picked up a fork but didn’t spear a bite. “You said you had a nervous breakdown, Hope,” Sylvia prompted. “What brought that on?” Hope shrugged. “They said it was postpartum depression.” “They... meaning who?” “The doctors. My OB/GYN. Mark kept calling him, telling on me for accusing him of cheating on me. I don’t even remember half of what I did, they had me so drugged most of the time.” “Did you consider seeing a therapist?” “I saw a psychiatrist for more than a year. It didn’t help much. They had me committed, said I was a danger to my child.” “Why?” Sylvia and Joshua said in unison. “A batch of things. Mark left me home alone with Casey one day, and I apparently took some sleeping pills. She was wet and crying when he got there mid-afternoon to check on her. Another time, I lost her in a department store. She was in a stroller, I turned away for seconds, I swear, and she was gone. They found her abandoned in a bathroom. Nobody believed me that someone took her. They kept saying, why would anyone leave her in a bathroom when they could have walked out the door with her? And there were all my accusations... I was convinced that Mark was having an affair.” Sylvia exchanged a long glance with Joshua. “What convinced you of that?” “The usual. Lipstick on the collar might be a cliché, but it’s a dead giveaway. Credit card statements for hotel rooms in the city when he was supposedly out of town, sex toys bought on the internet. I’ll tell you, he wasn’t using them with me. Phone calls.” Hope propped her elbows on the table, and rubbed her temples where a stress headache threatened. A waitress came by to clear their first course. “Is there something wrong with your salads?” “We’re saving our appetites for the main course,” Joshua said. “You can take the salad plates.” When she left, he touched Hope’s shoulder. “What about the phone calls?” She dropped her hands onto the table and looked directly at him. “I kept getting phone calls from a woman named Rhonda. She’d say, ‘Guess where I am? Giving your husband a blow job,’ or something similar. She’d call me any time of day, even when Mark was home. ‘Hi, this is Rhonda. Let me talk to my lover.’” “Did you even try to trace the calls?” “Sure. They were coming from various places, the law firm, restaurants, but most often a cell phone. Nobody believed me about the phone calls.” “Did it ever go to your father with the evidence?” “Of course. He thought I was imagining it.” “Did it occur to you that Mark was doing it intentionally?” “Of course,” she repeated. “That’s why they committed me. He convinced them I was delusional.” “If he wanted you out of the way, why wouldn’t he have just divorced you?” “I don’t know. I threatened to leave him several times.” “Is there any reason for him to want you... out of the way?” “No. I had no money of my own. I wouldn’t have been given access to my trust fund until I was twenty-five.”
Hope For The Holidays Page 5