Season Of Passion Part 26

His eyes held a penetrating quality she didn't understand. He wanted to tell her that he did know. He felt almost compelled to tell her, but he couldn't. He had to hear it from her. She had to want to tell him. "Never mind, forget it. Have a nice day." He wheeled around then and walked back toward the kitchen, as she stood there wondering if she should run after him. But she couldn't. He wanted answers that she was not yet ready to give him.

She walked out the door and to the car, but she felt as though she were dragging chains around her feet. Should she go? Should she stay? Did she owe him an explanation? Should she tell him the truth? What if he left her? What if ... and then, as she started the car, she forced him from her mind. She owed the trip to Tom, she owed him these visits, these days ... but did she owe it to him to lose Nick? The thought made her step on the brakes and think for a minute. Was she really playing for those kinds of stakes? Could Felicia be right? Could she lose Nick if she didn't tell him and he eventually found out?

"s.h.i.t." She muttered the word to herself as she let herself gently into the traffic outside their house. She just couldn't tell him yet. Not yet ... but maybe soon.

CHAPTER 28.

It was pouring as she drove back to San Francisco from Carmel. Where was all this gorgeous October weather Felicia always talked about? Christ, it had been raining for days. It had rained the last three times she had gone there. It was even raining in Carmel. And the rain was so hard on Tom. He looked so pale now, and he wasn't eating well. There was a lost quality about him lately, like a tired sick child hatching some terrible illness. He would hold her hand for hours and beg her for stories, looking at her with those eyes that seemed to see her, really see her, but never did. Those eyes still remembered nothing. And the arms still reached out for her as he called out "Katie," the way Tygue shouted "Mom." He seemed so helpless now though. He had been this way for so long, and something about him seemed to be slipping away. The teasing was gone. The laughter had dimmed. Mr. Erhard looked concerned too. But the director of Mead said it was "normal." Normal.... what the h.e.l.l was normal about a man who thought like a child? A man who had once been so alive and had now lived in a wheelchair playing with paper airplanes for seven years? But the doctor insisted that people in Tom's condition did "fade" from time to time, and eventually, one day ... but that could be years away. In the meantime, he could have these "spells" and still rally, as long as one kept his interest up and "challenged him." Although, the director admitted, that didn't always change things. He admitted, too, that Tom might have these spells more and more frequently over the next years, until the end. It was neurological, and inevitable, but it wasn't acute. And she didn't understand it any better than anything else that had happened in the past seven years. Whatever it was, Tom hadn't been right for almost a month. And she could sense that Nick wanted her to stop going to Carmel. Christ. She sighed as she drove off the freeway onto Franklin Street. It was going to be good to get home. She was so tired. And thank G.o.d Nick hadn't been up when she left that morning. She had been getting up earlier for the past two weeks, in order to avoid him. And she was making special efforts to keep his mind off her trips to Carmel.

She turned left on Green Street and followed it west until she almost reached the Presidio, then unexpectedly she swooped up a narrow, curved, brick-paved street, and there, hidden amidst the sculptured landscape, concealed by the hedges, trees, and bushes, needed their house. After little more than a month in it, she already loved it more than any house she had ever lived in, maybe because she was so happy there.

She let herself into the house with a sigh of relief. It was only four-twenty. Tygue was at his special art cla.s.s, and would be delivered by the car pool at four forty-five. She had just made it. And the Ferrari had been nowhere in sight. Safe. No explanations, no excuses, no little bits of chatter to cover up the worry and the pain. It was always so hard confronting Nick after all that. He hated it too. And he always saw too much. She slipped off her wet shoes and left them on a mat in the front hall. She hung up her umbrella in the kitchen, and then with another sigh she sat down at the kitchen table, and rested her head on her arms.

"Hi, Kate." The voice was only inches away from her and she leapt from her seat at the table with a look of terror in her eyes. "Oh darling, I'm sorry." His arms went instantly around her as she sat there and trembled. She was speechless, and not at all prepared for the usual games. She had thought he wasn't home. But he had been sitting there, watching her, from the corner, and she hadn't even noticed.

"You scared the h.e.l.l out of me." She smiled shakily. It had been a long day. "I didn't know you were home. How was your day?" The efforts at chitchat were futile, Nick refused to be diverted. He looked strangely serious and walked to the stove without even bothering to answer her question.

"Tea?"

"That would be nice. Anything wrong?" She hated the way he looked. He reminded her of the way her father looked when her report card arrived. She could feel her heart pounding as it had during their last confrontation over Carmel. Only this time was worse. She wasn't sure why, but she could sense that it was. "Something wrong?" He still hadn't answered her.

"No, nothing's wrong." The words were carefully measured. "I missed you today." He turned to look at her and there was already a cup of tea in his hand. He had even had the water boiling and she hadn't noticed the steam. When she had walked into the kitchen, she had been exhausted. Now she was terrified. And she still wasn't sure why.

"I missed you too."

He nodded and picked up a second cup. "Let's go upstairs."

"Okay." Her smile went unanswered as she took her cup and followed him meekly to the den on the third floor, where he settled slowly into his favorite chair. It was a big red leather one that was satiny smooth and wonderfully soft with the rich smell of good leather. It had a matching ottoman, but he pushed it aside with one foot. He wasn't planning to relax. And then he did the unexpected and set down his tea and held out both arms to her. She came to them willingly, kneeling next to his chair. "I love you, Nick."

"I know. I love you too. More than I've ever loved anyone." He looked down at her, smiled tiredly, and then sighed. "And we need to have a talk. I have a lot to say. I don't know where to start, but maybe the best place is where we just did, I love you. And I've waited a h.e.l.l of a long time for you to level with me, but you haven't. So it's time we just sat down and let it all out. What bothers me most in all this is that you don't trust me." She felt her blood turn to ice.

"That's not true." She sounded hurt, but her heart was pounding with terror. What did he mean? Did he know? How? Who had told him?

"It is true. If you trusted me, you'd have told me about Carmel. About Tom." An interminable silence filled the room as her eyes flew to his.

"What about Tom?" She was stalling and they both knew it, as she put down her cup of tea with a trembling hand.

"I don't know much, Kate. I had some vague suspicions in the beginning. What you knew about football in your book, the behind-the-scenes stuff, things you said. I did a little research, very little in fact. Just enough to find out that you'd been married to Tom Harper, the Tom Harper, and that he had shot himself and become paralyzed and mentally, well ... I don't know the right words. I know he was moved to a sanitarium in Carmel after a lengthy hospital stay, but I wasn't able to find the name of the home. I knew then that he hadn't died, and I think he's probably still alive now. I think that's what you do in Carmel. Visit him, not teach r.e.t.a.r.ded children. I could understand that, Kate, I could even accept it, I could understand a lot of things. What I don't understand is why you won't share it with me. Why you wouldn't tell me the truth in all these months. That's what hurts." There were tears in her eyes and his when he stopped speaking, and Kate let out a long, rattling sigh.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew? I've made an a.s.s of myself all these months, haven't I?"

"Is that what bothers you now? Making an a.s.s of yourself?" He looked suddenly angry and she shook her head and looked away.

"No. I ... I just don't know what to say."

"Tell me the truth, Kate. Tell me what it's like. What kind of shape he's in, whether you love him, is it any kind of a life for you, where does it leave us ... I don't know what hope there is for our future, or for his. I have a right to know those things-I had a right to know them from the first. But I didn't tell you I knew because you had to trust me enough to tell me yourself. You never did. I had to confront you."

"I think I was trying to protect both of you."

"And maybe yourself." He turned away from her and looked out at the Bay.

"Yes." Her voice was very quiet in the room. "And maybe myself. I love you, Nick. I didn't want to lose you. We have something with each other that I've never had before, with anyone. Tom knew me as a girl. I was a child with him, until ... until the accident. And now he's the child. He's like a little boy, Nick. He plays games, he draws, he's a little less grown up than Tygue. He cries ... he needs me. And he gets about as much from me as he wants. I can't take that away from him. I can't leave him." Her voice caught on the words: "No one is asking you to, Kate. I never would have asked you that. But I just wanted to know. I wanted to hear it from you. Will he go on that way for a very long time?"

"Until the end, whenever that comes. It could be days, or months, or years. No one can know. And in the meantime ... I visit."

"How do you stand it?" He turned to look at her again and there was pain and compa.s.sion in his eyes.

She smiled a small wintry smile. "I owe it to him, Nick. Once he was everything to me. He was all I had, after my parents closed the door on me. He gave me everything. Now all I can give him are a few hours a week. I can spare those hours. I have to." She said it defiantly as she watched him.

"I understand that." He went to her and put his arms around her with a sigh. "It's something you have to do. I respect that. I wish I could make it easier for you though."

"It's not that hard anymore. I got used to it a long, long time ago. If you ever really get used to that sort of thing. At least it doesn't shock me anymore-or break my heart the way it once did."

"Was Felicia around then, darling?" He cuddled her close and she looked up at him with a small smile. It was a relief to tell him, and she hated herself for not doing it sooner.

"Yes. She was around through the whole thing. She was marvelous. She was even in the delivery room with me when Tygue was born."

"I wish I'd been there then."

She smiled tiredly. She had a peaceful feeling she hadn't had in years. He knew everything now. There were no more secrets. No more dreading he'd find out. "I was so afraid of what you'd think if you knew."

"Why?"

"Because I'm married. Because I'm not free. That's not really fair to you."

"It doesn't make any difference. One day you won't be married anymore. There's time for us, Kate. We have a lifetime ahead of us."

"You're an incredible man, Nicholas Waterman."

"Bulls.h.i.t. You'd feel the same.... Kate?"

"Mm?"

"Your parents never contacted you after he ... after the accident?" He had understood that that was the euphemism she used for the shooting.

"Never once. They made up their minds when I went to live with Tom, and that was it. What he did just confirmed everything they'd thought about him, I guess, and as far as they were concerned I was no better than he was. I'd gotten what I deserved. They were just very black and white in their thinking. There were acceptable people and unacceptable people ... I was no longer acceptable because of Tom, so they felt justified in cutting me out of their lives."

"I don't know how they could live with themselves."

"Neither do I, but that's not my problem anymore. It hasn't been for a long, long time. It's all very remote. And I'm glad. It's really all over. The only thing that isn't, that never will be, is my obligation to Tom."

"Tygue doesn't know, does he?" He was sure that he didn't, but there was always a chance that the boy had been hiding it from him too.

"No. Felicia says I'll have to tell him one day, but I haven't figured that out yet. It's too soon now anyway."

Nick nodded and then looked at her strangely. "Can I ask you an odd question?"

"Of course."

"Do you ... do you still love Tom?" He made himself say it. He had to know.

Her voice was full of astonishment when she answered him. "Do you think I could love you as I do, live with you like this, be yours, if I did? Yes, I love him. As I love a child, as I love Tygue. He's not a man, Nick. He's my past ... and only a ghost ... the ghost of a child."

"I'm sorry I asked."

"Don't be. You have a right to all the answers now. And I suppose it's hard to understand. There's no man there to love. Oh, before you came along, once in a while, I'd pretend to myself that there was a glimmer of something. But there wasn't. There hasn't been in seven years. I go to see him because that's what I do. Because once he was good to me, because a long time ago I loved him more than anyone I'd ever known or loved before, and because Tygue is his son." Suddenly she was crying again, and the tears were streaming down her face. "But I love you, Nick, I love you ... as ... I never loved him. I've waited such a long time for you." He reached for her then and pulled her into his arms so hard that they were both stunned by the force of his grip on her. He needed her just as desperately. He had needed her for years.

"Oh darling, I'm so sorry."

She pulled away with a sigh. "I've been so afraid, ever since the book's been a success, that someone would find me out. That someone would dig up all that s.h.i.t and spread it all over my face." He cringed again at the thought of what she must have been going through. It was a wonder she had gone to Los Angeles at all. "And when you said you'd played football, I almost died." She laughed as she looked up at him, but his face was still almost gray.

"The funny thing is that I knew him. Not well. I was in and out of football too fast, and he was already on top when I came into it. But he seemed like a nice guy."

"He was." She looked sad at the words. He was.

"What made him do it? What broke him?" The papers he'd read hadn't really given him any insight. It was as though the reporters didn't care why.

"Pressure. Fear. He was being shoved out and it drove him crazy. He had nothing else in his life, only football. He didn't know what else to do. And he had also invested his money pretty badly and he wanted everything for Tygue. That was all he could think of. 'His son.' He wanted one more season so he could sock away a fortune for Tygue. And they canned him. You read the papers. You know the rest."

He nodded somberly. "Does he know about Tygue?"

"He wouldn't understand. I visited him the whole time I was pregnant. He had no more interest or understanding than any kid that age. I think he just thought I was fat."

"Has there been any change over the years?" He was embarra.s.sed to ask.

But she only shook her head. "No. Except in the past few weeks. He's not himself. But the doctor says it's nothing unusual."

"Is it a decent place?"

"Yes, very." She reached out to him then and he came to sit next to her on the floor. "I love you, Mr. Waterman, even if you did scare the h.e.l.l out of me. I thought you were going to tell me we were through."

"What do you mean, you crazy woman? Did you think I'd really let you go?"

"I'm a married woman, Nick." She said it with a tone of despair. She knew how badly he wanted to get married. And there was no chance. Not as long as Tom was alive.

"So what? Does it bother you that you're married, Kate?"

She shook her head very simply. "I thought it out very carefully before I drove to Santa Barbara to see you this summer. In my heart, I'm not married to him anymore."

"That's all that matters. The rest is n.o.body's business but ours. Is that the only reason why you didn't tell me, Kate?"

"No ... I ... well, that's part of it. The other part was just cowardice, I suppose. I had kept everyone outside the sacred walls for so long that I couldn't imagine telling anyone the truth. And by the time I could imagine telling you, it seemed impossible to start from the beginning and admit I had lied. How do you say to someone, 'Oh, remember when I told you I was a widow, well, actually, I was lying. My husband is in a sanitarium in Carmel and I go to see him a couple of times a week.' I don't know, Nick, it sounded nuts, and admitting it, talking about it-it's like reliving it. It's like feeling it all over again."

"I'm sorry about that." He held her closer.

"Maybe I'm not. Maybe it's time the whole thing was aired. But you know what else I was afraid of? I was afraid that once you knew, you'd make me stop seeing Tom. I couldn't do that, Nick. He means too much to me. I owe him a debt until he dies."

"Is that the only reason why you do it? Because you 'Owe' him?" She shook her head.

"No. For a lot of reasons. Because I loved him, because of the strength he gave me at times, because of what we shared ...because of Tygue... I could never stop going, and I didn't think anyone could understand that. Not even you. Does that make any sense?"

"A great deal of sense, Kate. But I have no right to take that away from you. No one does."

"But can you live with it?"

"Now that it's out in the open between us, I can. I respect what you're doing, Kate. My G.o.d, if something like that ever happened to me ... What an incredible thing to realize that someone cared enough to keep on visiting like that, for years and years and years."

She sighed. "It's not as n.o.ble as you make it sound. Sometimes it's d.a.m.n hard. Sometimes it's exhausting, and I hate it."

"But you do it anyway, that's the point."

"Maybe it is. And I have to go on doing it, Nick."

"I understand that." It was a sober moment between them, a moment of peace that sealed a pact of understanding. He took a sip of his tea, and then looked down at her again. "What are you going to do, though, if someone does find out? If they unearth the past? I a.s.sume you've faced that possibility."

"Yes and no. The only way I make myself get out there is to pretend it won't happen. If I really thought it might, I'd never leave the house again."

"That might be very pleasant." They exchanged the first real smile in an hour. "I'm being serious though."

"I don't know, love." She sighed deeply and lay back on the rug. "I don't know what I'd do, really. Run, panic, I don't know. Maybe it won't matter as much now that you know. Of course there's still Tygue." She sighed and then remembered something as she looked across at Nick. "Remember that party you took me to in L.A., after I was on Jasper's show?"

He nodded. "That guy who said something that upset you? He knew?" Jesus. No wonder she had freaked.

"Not really. He just picked up on my name. Harper. And told me all about a football player named 'Joe or Jim or someone,' who'd gone crazy, and, well ... he knew the story, more or less. He asked if I was related to him, as a big joke. And of course I panicked."

"Poor baby. No wonder. Why the h.e.l.l didn't you change your name after all that, though?"

"It didn't seem right, because of Tygue. Tygue was his son. He was meant to be Tygue Harper. Changing names seemed such a shoddy thing to do to Tom. Not that he'd have known. I don't know. I just always had such a feeling of loyalty about that."

"What about Tygue now though? You can't keep this from him forever. And if someone tells him one day that his father almost killed two men and virtually destroyed himself instead, it'll screw up his whole life. You owe him the truth, Kate. Some kind of truth, at an age where he can begin to digest it. Will he ever see him?"

"Never. That would be impossible. Tom wouldn't understand, and it would break Tygue's heart. That's not a daddy. That's a strange helpless child in a broken man's body. He doesn't even look well anymore. Tygue would have to be a grown man to be able to withstand it. And why should he? He doesn't know him. It's better that way. And by the time Tygue is old enough to understand, by then-" She paused and there was a small sobbing sound. She looked up at Nick, but his face was grave and not tearful as he looked at her. "What was that?" She sat very still. And Nick c.o.c.ked his head.

"Nothing. Why?"

"I heard ... oh G.o.d ..." And then she realized. They had both forgotten the car pool bringing Tygue home. The clock behind Nick said five-fifteen. He had been home for half an hour. Long enough to ... and then without thinking, she wheeled around, and saw him standing there, silent, with tears pouring down his face. Tygue. They both moved toward him at the same time, and he darted away down the stairs, his sobs echoing as he shouted back at them, "Leave me alone ... leave me alone.... "