The Vista boys were scary, but Rodarte, acting on his own behalf, was even scarier. Griff wasn’t comforted by the knowledge that Rodarte was working independently.
That thought was interrupted by his cell phone’s chirp. He flipped it open. “Hello?”
“Are you free?”
H
IS HEART SKIPPED. “WHEN?”
“Now.”
“I’m fifteen minutes out.” Thirty at least, but he didn’t want her to change her mind.
“I’ll see you then.”
It took five minutes for him to get past the accident; then he herded the Honda as though driving in the Le Mans and reached the house twenty-two minutes after getting her call. He went in through the unlocked front door and found her standing in the center of the living room.
She was wearing a snug white skirt and a sleeveless red top with white buttons down the front and wide straps over her shoulders. She looked great.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
“I was on 114 when you called. There was an accident.”
“I didn’t give you much notice.”
He shrugged off his jacket and laid it over the back of the nearest chair. “How have you been?”
“Fine. What about you?”
“I’ve been okay. Airline keeping you busy?”
“Always.”
“This heat sucks.”
“I can’t remember when it last rained.”
“That time of year, I guess.”
Up to that point, they hadn’t broken eye contact. Now she did. She looked toward the window, where the louvered shutters let in only slivers of sunlight. “I asked you to meet me today so I could tell you in person.”
His stomach dropped. “You’re pregnant.”
She shook her head.
“No?” he asked, making sure.
“No.”
“I thought maybe you would be. We doubled the chances last time.”
Her eyes flicked back to him briefly, then away. “I’m not pregnant. But I…we, Foster and I, have decided to try A.I.”
His encounter with Rodarte, his meeting with the Vista boys, her call, the wild drive here, seeing her, all had combined to jumble his brain. Her words didn’t compute. He shook his head slightly. “Sorry?”
“Artificial insemination.”
“Oh. Right.” Again his stomach took a dive. “Instead of us—”
“Yes.”
“Huh.”
There was a significantly long pause before she continued. “We realize the financial implications that our decision will have on you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So we’d like for you to remain the donor.” Nervously she wet her lips. “If you’re willing, that is. And if you are, and the insemination is successful, the terms of the payout will stay the same.”
He searched her face, but she avoided looking directly at him. After a moment, he went over to the sofa, sat down on the edge of it, and stared into near space, thinking what a bitch of a day this was turning out to be.
She must have taken his silence for either reluctance or indecision. She said, “You don’t have to give me your answer today. You have time to think about it. I have to set up appointments with a specialist. I’m sure there will be tests. I think I have to go on supplemental hormones. So it could be a while before we needed you. Weeks, I would guess.”
He looked over at her.
“Once the procedure is scheduled,” she went on, sounding rushed, “I’ll contact you and we’ll work out a time and place for me to pick up the specimen. It’ll have to be retrieved on the actual day. I’ll give you as much notice as I can. A day, possibly two.”
“All right.”
“Between now and then, if you decide you don’t want to…to participate, we’ll pay you five hundred thousand anyway. For the times you’ve…for your trouble.”
“Generous of you.”
“Naturally, whether you opt to continue or cancel the arrangement here and now, it goes without saying that I expect the absolute confidentiality you agreed to.”
Finally, something he wanted to address. “You don’t want anybody to know about…” He tilted his head in the direction of the bedroom. “What happened in there last time.”
“About any of it, Mr. Burkett.”
“No, I’m sure you don’t, Mrs. Speakman.”
She drew herself up straight and retrieved her handbag from an armchair. “Well, I think that covers everything. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“There’s a double entendre if I ever heard one.” He’d spoken in a mutter, but intentionally loud enough for her to hear.
Ignoring the remark, she moved toward the door. “I have to go. I have a meeting in half an hour.”
“Liar.”
She came around quickly.
“You don’t have a meeting. You’re running off.” He left the sofa and started walking toward her. “You’re scared. You don’t trust yourself to be here. Did you confess to your husband that you really got into it last time?”
“What Foster and I talk about—”
“Is that why he changed his mind about our little arrangement?”
“
He
didn’t. I did.”
Up till then, he’d been growing steadily angrier. But that stopped it. This was her decision, not Speakman’s, and not one they’d reached as a couple. He said the first thing that popped into his mind, the first thing he wanted to know. “Why?”
“I can’t…” She faltered, then started again. “I can’t continue with you like this, that’s all. I agreed to it only because it was what Foster wanted. And I love him. I do. I love my husband.”
“All right.”
“That’s the only reason I consented to this.”
“So you said.”
“But I can’t be with you anymore.”
“I got that, too. And when it comes right down to it, that’s all you had to say. You don’t owe me an explanation.”
She looked at him strangely, then lowered her head. Neither of them moved. Seconds ticked by while he stared at the way her hair grew in a swirling pattern around the crown of her head. Finally he said, “When did you decide?”
“I knew when I left here last time that I wouldn’t come back. But I fretted over it, and didn’t tell Foster of my decision until two weeks ago.”
“Why didn’t you call to tell me then?”
“We decided to wait and see if I was pregnant before we told you. If I was, it would be a moot point. I thought the matter was settled.” The red top expanded with the deep breath she took, straining the white buttons. “But Foster has spent the past two weeks trying to change my mind.”
“He still wants his baby conceived the natural way.”
“Yes. He hasn’t really applied pressure, but he’s made his wishes known. He’s made it clear how disappointed he’ll be if we change course now. He’s used every tactic he knows to try to persuade me that we should continue as planned, at least through several more cycles.”
“Only he didn’t persuade you.”
“No.”
“Then why didn’t you call and tell me the deal was off? Why are you here?”
“Because I let Foster think he finally wore me down.” Her gaze moved around the room, then came to rest for several seconds on the third button of his shirt before moving up to meet his eyes. “He kept after me until I agreed to meet you one last time. If I don’t conceive today, he said, he
promised,
he would never ask me to come here again and will agree to switching to a clinical method.”
Griff assimilated that. “One last time.”
“Yes.”
“Today.”
“Yes.”
“So he thinks we’re—”
“Yes.”
“But we’re not.”
“He’ll never know, will he? He’ll think this time had the same result as the previous three.”
“Only the two of us will know different.”
“Unless you tell him.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“I hate that word,” she said with obvious anguish. “I don’t like keeping secrets from my husband.”
She looked beyond him toward the hallway that led to the bedroom, and her gaze stayed fixed on it so long that Griff looked over his shoulder to see what could possibly be holding her attention. The hallway was empty. He thought she might be seeing into the bedroom, seeing them moving together, seeing herself coming. That would be a secret she would want to keep from her husband.
He came back around just as she looked up at him. Their gazes held for several long moments, then she gestured at the front door. “Well…”
“Your meeting.”
She gave a wan smile. “There’s no meeting.”
“I know.” He returned her smile, but he didn’t feel it.
She reached behind her back for the doorknob. “Don’t forget your jacket.”
“Right.”
“Be sure the door is securely closed so it will lock.”
“Of course.”
She pulled open the door, and they were struck with a blast of hot air. She said, “Depending on circumstances, this could be the last time I’ll see you.”
“Could be.”
She paused, then gave a self-conscious shrug. “I can’t think of anything to say that seems appropriate.”
“Small talk seems smaller.”
She smiled faintly at the reminder of her words to him the night they’d met.
“You don’t have to say anything, Laura.”
“Then…” She stuck out her right hand. “Good-bye.”
He took her hand. They looked down at their clasped hands, then at each other. She released his hand and his gaze simultaneously, and turned toward the open door.
But she did only that. Turned and stopped.
Griff hesitated only heartbeats before acting. He moved in close behind her, reached over her shoulder, put his hand flat against the door, and slowly pushed it shut.
Laura stared at herself in the vanity mirror. The reflection looking back seemed to be of someone else. The woman in the mirror was disheveled, not as meticulously turned out as usual. Most disturbing, her eyes were filled with uncertainty. Where was the characteristic self-confidence? What had happened to the surety that she had a grip on the situation? Who was this tremulous stranger?
She ran her fingertips across her lips and dabbed at the smudge of mascara at the corner of her eye. No question, the image in the mirror was hers.
“Laura?”
She spun around, flattening her hand against her chest. “Foster. I didn’t hear you.”
“Obviously not. You nearly jumped out of your skin.” His wheelchair was straddling the threshold between bedroom and bath. “Manuelo told me you were home.”
She had parked in the detached garage, entered the house through the mudroom, and used the back staircase. “He said you were on the telephone.” She forced a light laugh. “At least I think that’s what he said. I didn’t want to interrupt your call. I’m glad you chose to stay at home today. The heat is unbearable. It’s making everyone cranky. People were driving like maniacs, so rush hour was more hazardous than usual.”
Realizing that she was talking too much and too fast, she forced herself to slow down. “All this to say, I’m a mess and wanted to take a quick shower before seeing you. How was your day?”
“Uneventful. Besides the weather and the traffic, how was yours?”
“I had back-to-back appointments this morning, including the one with the reps from the FAA to discuss Southwest’s and American’s complaints.”
“You’ll have to be more specific. Southwest and American are always filing complaints against us.”
“Highest form of flattery.”
He grinned. “If we were failing, we’d never hear a peep out of them. How did your appointment with Griff Burkett go?”
The question came so suddenly and out of context, it took her off guard. “The same as before. Briefly. Efficiently.”
“I thought he might be the reason you’re so late getting home.”
“Why would you think that?”
“No reason.”
She let it drop. “I hope you didn’t wait dinner on me.”
“Mrs. Dobbins made a sandwich to tide me over.”
“Good.”
“So why are you late?”
“I was almost home when I remembered something I’d left at the office and had to go all the way back for it. Myrna was still there.”
“My assistant is usually the last to leave. Unless it’s you.”
“She was finishing up some business letters and asked if I would wait on them so I could bring them home for you to sign. I have them right here.”
She tried to squeeze past his chair into the bedroom, but he caught her hand. “The letters can wait. I want to know Burkett’s reaction when you told him this was the last time you’d be meeting him. Or did you tell him?”
“I told him as soon as he arrived.”
“And?”
“And nothing, really. Once I assured him that we would adhere to the original terms if he remained the donor, he said it was all the same to him. Something like that.”
“He’s not backing out then?”
“I didn’t get that impression, no.”
“I didn’t think he would. Did you discuss how we would retrieve the semen?”
“Only in the most general terms. I told him I had to consult a specialist first. Then when he’s needed, he’d be notified.”
“Maybe the A.I. won’t be necessary. Let’s hope.”
“That’s what we all hope, Foster.”
He surprised her by pressing his hand against her lower abdomen. “I feel good about this time. Karma. Something. It just feels different, like something significant happened.”
She smiled, hoping it didn’t look shaky. “Hold that thought.” Stepping away, she said, “I really would like to get out of these clothes. You’re welcome to stay.”
“No, I’ll leave you to your shower. I’d only stay if I could offer to wash your back.”
“You can pour me a glass of wine instead. I won’t be long.”
“How about club soda? Just in case.”
“Okay.”
He kissed the air, then maneuvered his wheelchair across the adjacent bedroom and through the door, each of his motions done in a sequence of three.
Laura waited until she was alone, then closed the door to her bathroom and hastily removed her clothes. Before stepping into the shower, she worked up enough courage to examine herself in the full-length mirror. Her eyes were still glassy and dazed looking, her lips slightly abraded. She touched her nipples, navel, pubic hair.
Holding back a guilty whimper, she placed her fingers vertically against her lips and whispered, “Oh, God.” But she wasn’t certain for what, specifically, she prayed.