The Consequences (28 page)

CHAPTER 48

Monday, 30th December

 

 

“I
thought you spoke very well,” Kathy said shortly, as they followed the hearse as it wound its way through the graves in Forest Hills Cemetery. They moved slowly, picking their way over the muddy, puddle-spattered ground. A long snaking column of dark-suited men and fashionably dressed women trailed behind.

“I was just hoping I could get through what I had to say without breaking down,” Robert said, ducking his shoulders against the icy wind that whipped across the graves.

“You did.” Kathy didn't add that she found the eulogy almost painfully embarrassing in places.

Robert tilted his head slightly and glanced back over his shoulder. “Looks like most of the entertainment industry in Boston is here,” he said proudly. “I heard someone say that Ben Affleck had come home for the funeral. Apparently he and Jimmy used to play cards together.”

“I didn't see him,” Kathy said.

She had seen Stephanie Burroughs however.

There had been a single instant when they were driving out of the small church parking lot when she'd spotted Stephanie. The woman had been sitting in the passenger seat of the latest model Mercedes, alongside a handsome older man Kathy vaguely recognized. She wasn't sure if Stephanie had seen her or not, but Kathy was glad Stephanie was there; she was determined to catch up with her today, and the graveyard was as good a place as any.

It had rained during the Mass, a combination of ice and sleet battering the church, tip-tapping off the stained-glass windows, and when the mourners had finally filed out of the church, they had found that the ground was littered with tiny pebbles of ice that crunched underfoot and made walking treacherous. As the long, winding cortège made its way from the church, it rained again, battering the cars in sheets of icy sleet that the windshield wipers, even on high speed, had difficulty coping with. Perfect funeral weather.

 

Only the hearse was allowed into Forest Hills Cemetery. The mourners were forced to follow on foot.

Charles Flintoff parked across from the graveyard and stepped out of the car. He opened the back door and pulled out a midnight-blue umbrella and then moved around to the passenger side to help Stephanie out of the car, always keeping her covered beneath the large umbrella. She smiled her thanks and linked her arm in his as they entered the cemetery. She picked her way along the irregular path, regretting wearing heels now and wishing she'd opted for boots and slacks, rather than heels and a black pencil skirt. She felt vaguely uncomfortable on Flintoff's arm, and she knew people were looking, first at him—because everyone knew Charles—and then at her, many of them wondering who she was, and no doubt drawing erroneous conclusions. She was beginning to regret accepting his suggestion that he pick her up and drive her to the church and graveyard.

Stephanie had listened to Robert speak in the church. She'd thought he looked exhausted, and guessed he'd had little sleep since she'd thrown him out on Saturday night. His eulogy had been a little too saccharine for her taste; according to Robert, Jimmy had been one of the finest specimens of humanity to walk the earth. She'd caught some of the cynical smiles and even sniggers as Robert had gone on and on about Jimmy's good qualities, and guessed that many of the people crowding the small church knew the real Jimmy Moran.

Mikey Moran, Jimmy's eldest brother, had spoken briefly and elegantly about their early years together, and he thanked Robert for everything he had done to organize the funeral. Stephanie remembered craning her neck at that point, wondering where Angela was. She didn't see her in the church, and yet she guessed she must be there.

“Neither of them turned up,” Charles murmured, peering at her over the top of his half-frame glasses.

Stephanie looked at him blankly.

“Neither Angela nor Frances,” he continued. “Both probably thought the other would be here and didn't want to share the limelight. I understand from a colleague that the only reason Angela turned up at the removal of the remains on Saturday was because she knew that Frances wouldn't be there.”

Stephanie nodded. She thought it sad that the two women who had loved Jimmy the most had chosen this particular occasion to abandon him.

Directly ahead of her, moving past the nineteenth-century marble memorials and granite monuments, she spotted Kathy walking alongside Robert. Stephanie thought that the woman looked wretched, ashen-faced, her eyes huge and dark in her head. She was bundled up in a three-quarter-length black coat and lost beneath an oversize umbrella. Stephanie noted that she didn't seem too eager to share it with Robert.

 

Robert Walker was livid.

He was desperately trying to hold his emotions in check. The funeral was bad enough, and having neither Angela nor Frances there was a slap in the face to his old friend. But seeing Stephanie turning up on the arm of her boss, that had been the real sickener. She hadn't waited long, had she? Maybe she'd try to claim that the baby was Flintoff's, he thought vindictively. He shook his head quickly, the sudden movement surprising Kathy.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled, “Everything. This weather.” He shook a water-logged shoe. “We're all going to catch pneumonia.”

Kathy didn't remind him that she'd told him to bring his boots. She looked around. She loved this cemetery; it had a much different feel than the cemetery where her parents were buried. She used to come here as a girl and read on the grassy slope near the waterfall. She loved the tranquillity of the place: the odd juxtaposition of the dead spirits with the thriving arboretum. When she died, if she changed her mind about being cremated, this was where she would be buried.

She didn't care where Robert went.

Jimmy Moran was to be buried near fellow Irish immigrant Eugene O'Neill. O'Neill was one of Kathy's favorite playwrights. She remembered learning that he had been born in a hotel on Broadway . . . which was now a Starbucks. She shuddered to think that the multitudes of New York City tourists ordering their overpriced double nonfat lattes were walking on such a sacred birthplace. O'Neill had been married three times, and his first wife's name had been Kathleen. Kathy looked sidelong at Robert. . . . How many times would he be married, she wondered.

The hearse stopped behind the open grave, and when Robert Walker moved forward to help shoulder the burden of the coffin, Kathy stood stock-still and allowed the crowd to ebb and flow around her until she was almost at the back of the throng. Latecomers hurried up, creating a semicircle about ten deep around the grave. She didn't want to stand on the edge of that gaping hole and look down. A year and a half ago when she'd stood beside her mother's open grave, she'd felt as if she were being pulled in, and it was only Maureen's strong hand on her shoulder that had kept her upright.

Kathy turned away . . . and spotted Stephanie on the edge of the crowd at the same time that the other woman turned and looked in her direction.

The two women stared at one another, then Stephanie began to move through the crowd toward Kathy, who turned off to the right and started to walk down a narrow, muddy path. She stopped and stood by an ornate marble monument and waited for the younger woman to catch up with her.

 

Standing on the edge of the open grave, which was raised a little higher than the rest of the ground, Robert Walker turned just in time to see the two women stop and face one another. He felt his stomach twist, and for a moment he thought he was going to throw up.

And there was no possible way he could leave what he was doing and get to them.

CHAPTER 49

K
athy Walker spoke first, her voice as icy as the weather. “I'm glad you're here. I was hoping you would be. Saves me a visit.” She shifted the black umbrella to include Stephanie, and the two women huddled together.

Stephanie looked at her, saying nothing.

“I wanted to give you this,” Kathy said. She reached into her pocket and passed across a plain brown envelope.

The younger woman looked at it, feeling something solid move and shift in the paper. Holding the envelope in her black-gloved hands, she tore open one end and shook the contents out into the palm of her right hand.

Nestling in the soft black leather was a slightly worn gold wedding ring.

“I don't want it anymore,” Kathy said, unable to control the tremble in her voice.

“Are you kidding? I don't want this!” Stephanie exclaimed, horrified.

“You want Robert,” Kathy snapped. “You've got him. And you'll need this to go with him.”

“I don't want him,” Stephanie protested venomously. “I wouldn't have him if he were the last man in the world!”

Kathy blinked in surprise. If she hadn't known better, she would almost have been inclined to believe Stephanie.

 

A hundred yards away, Robert was in an agony of indecision.

He wanted—he desperately needed—to get to the women, to talk to them, to . . . what? What could he do? What were they talking about? Was Stephanie telling Kathy about the baby? What in God's name was going on?

He saw Kathy hand something to Stephanie. What was that?

He could feel his heart rate increase, and he was conscious that he was sweating profusely.

 

“I know he came to you on Saturday,” Kathy snapped.

“Yes. I asked him to.”

Stephanie's answer stopped Kathy cold. She blinked. “You admit it!”

A sudden gust of rain whipped in under the umbrella, and Kathy and Stephanie automatically turned. Now they were facing the funeral, with the rain coming at them from behind. They could both see Robert standing alongside the priest. His face, white and desperate, was turned toward them.

“He can see us,” Stephanie remarked. “And we're probably the last two people in the world he wants to get together.”

“Good,” Kathy said emphatically. “You were together for most of Saturday afternoon. I sat outside. I watched you. I saw the bedroom light go on. I saw the pizza guy come. I watched my husband drive away with his clothes in his hands.”

“That's all true.” Stephanie turned to Kathy, and the older woman was shocked to see a wry smile on the younger woman's face. “I had to see Robert yesterday. I told him I was pregnant.”

Kathy, who had believed that she was beyond any more pain, felt this new revelation like a physical blow. She reached for a headstone, convinced that she was going to fall down. Stephanie reached out and caught her arm.

Kathy's lips formed the word,
pregnant,
but she never uttered it.

“When he got to my place, he looked terrible. And I felt sorry for him, because I knew how close he was to Jimmy. Initially, all we spoke about was Jimmy, and I told him to take a shower, because I wanted him awake and alert when we discussed the baby.”

 

The temptation was to leave the graveside, push through the crowd, shove his way to the women. But there were photographers present. They would be sure to capture anything out of the ordinary. He'd seen how Stephanie was now holding onto his wife. From the distance, he suddenly noticed for the first time the extraordinary physical similarity between them; they could easily be mistaken for sisters.

What were they talking about?

 

Stephanie's eyes were firmly fixed on Kathy's face. “He took a shower, and when I went up to talk to him, he had fallen asleep. I didn't have the heart to wake him up.” She was still holding onto Kathy's arm, and she squeezed it firmly. “I swear to you, Kathy, that was it. I didn't sleep with him. I'd just flown in from Wisconsin.”

“So that's why he couldn't get you.”

Stephanie nodded. “I went home on Christmas Eve. I came back when I found out I was pregnant.”

“Pregnant.” Kathy licked dry lips, tasting icy rainwater on them. A half brother or sister for Brendan and Theresa. This wasn't something she would be able to keep from them, and with that disclosure would come the revelation about their father's affair.

The priest's voice droned out across the winter graveyard, and in the distance, black and stark against the morning sky, a trio of birds took to the air in an explosion of wings. Stephanie turned to follow their flight. Still watching them, she continued. “I let him sleep. My fridge was empty, so I ordered in some pizza. He wolfed it down as if he hadn't eaten in days.”

“He hadn't,” Kathy admitted.

“We finally got to speak about the baby.” Stephanie suddenly turned back to Kathy, and her eyes were huge, and her face was a mask. “He wanted,” she whispered, “he wanted me to . . .” She was crying now, rain mingling with the salt tears on her cheeks. “He wanted me to have an abortion.” Her breath began to come in great, heaving gasps. “He gave me a bunch of clichéd, ridiculous reasons—business reasons, personal reasons, stupid reasons. He offered to pay; suggested that we could have a quick abortion and then . . . and then return to our lives.”

And suddenly Kathy had her arms around Stephanie and was holding her close, while the young woman sobbed.

“I loved him, loved him with all my heart! He didn't want children. He had his family, he told me. He thought I'd just get rid of the kid, and then life would go on as normal. He was happy to have the affair, but he didn't want to face the consequences. I hate him! I hate him.”

 

Seeing Kathy hugging Stephanie was the final straw. Excusing himself, Robert backed away blindly through the crowd, apologizing automatically, desperate to get to the two women.

 

Stephanie still sobbed as Kathy supported her. “I shouted at him, screamed at him. Demanded my key back, flung his clothes at him, and threw him out. I never want to see him again.” She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “I thought I knew him. I don't.”

“Neither do I,” Kathy said very softly. “This isn't the man I married.” Still holding onto Stephanie, she raised her head and watched her husband stumble his way through the graves toward them.

Robert came wheezing up. “Kathy . . . Stephanie . . . I . . .” he began, and then his voice trailed away as both women turned to look at him, their expressions identical, a mingling of disgust and contempt.

“You wanted Stephanie to have an abortion?” Kathy practically spat the word onto the ground.

“Now hang on a second. . . .” he began to bluster. “Is that what she's telling you?”

“She is. And I believe her, Robert.”

“I haven't seen her. . . .” he said desperately.

“I followed you on Saturday, Robert.” His eyes flashed, but Kathy pressed on, ignoring him. “I saw the e-mail you sent Stephanie—you said you loved her. You promised you'd stay away from her, but you lied to me then, and you've continued to lie. Your every waking moment is a lie. Jimmy Moran didn't call on Christmas Day either, did he?”

“He did. . . .”

“I called on Christmas Day,” Stephanie said. “Early afternoon Wisconsin time.”

“You didn't go in to the office on Christmas Eve night. The alarm company has no record of a call,” Kathy continued relentlessly. “And Saturday, you weren't going in to the office; you were going to see Stephanie, determined to convince her to have an abortion because it didn't suit you to have a baby!”

“Fine. I went to see Stephanie. And yes, I suggested she get rid of it. I thought it would be what she'd want.”

Kathy ignored him. She turned to Stephanie. “I was sure he was in bed with you on Saturday.” Stephanie opened her mouth to reply, but Kathy pressed on before she could speak. “I know he wasn't. I know that now. I was going to finish with him then because of that. But now I know the truth.”

Robert started to relax.

“And it doesn't change a thing.”

Kathy took the wedding ring from Stephanie's hand and tossed it at Robert. He fumbled with it, but it fell into the dirt at his feet. “We're finished.” She watched him trying to pick up the delicate gold band with his gloved fingers. “A couple of days ago, I swore that next year would be different. I guess I didn't realize just how different. Don't come home, Robert. I don't want to see you ever again. You'll be hearing from my lawyer. I want a divorce.”

Kathy turned and walked away, her arm through Stephanie's. As they wound their way among the graves, they saw a distraught young woman with long dark hair plastered to her skull hurrying toward the graveside, a bunch of wilting flowers in her hands.

“Frances,” Kathy remarked, “Jimmy's lover.” She looked over her shoulder.

Robert was still where they had left him, staring after them, completely stunned.

Robert pulled off his gloves, and the wedding ring was cold against his flesh. He kept looking from it to where Kathy and Stephanie were fast disappearing through the trees.

What had just happened?

Yes, he'd lied to Kathy about visiting Stephanie, but surely she could understand why? He couldn't exactly tell her he was visiting his mistress . . . well, ex-mistress. And how would she have reacted if she had known that Stephanie was calling the house on Christmas Day?

Anyway, he was now finished with Stephanie. . . . Why, she'd even arrived on the arm of another man. But like every scorned woman, she'd had her revenge: She'd turned Kathy against him.

He shook his head and walked away, heading back to the graveside. He was shaking so hard he could barely walk. A divorce? He attempted a laugh, but it stuck in his throat, and came out as a ragged cough. It would all blow over; Kathy would come to her senses. He was sure of it.

 

“He'll try to come back, you know that?” Stephanie said.

“He'll try, but not today. He'll probably sleep in the office tonight. But I'm sure he'll come home tomorrow for New Year's Eve, or maybe Wednesday. When he does, he'll find the locks have been changed. When I discovered that he was having an affair, I gave him his chance. All he had to do was be honest. But he couldn't even do that. We could have started again.”

“Maybe . . .”

“You don't sound so sure?”

“There would have been another affair with another woman in a couple of years' time,” said Stephanie. “Once a man cheats . . .”

“I know.” Kathy glanced at the younger woman. “We need to talk about the baby,” she said.

“I'm having it,” Stephanie said emphatically.

“Of course.” Kathy smiled. “And the baby will have two wonderful half siblings.” Kathy paused. “And they're going to want to know him or her.”

“Really?” Stephanie said nervously.

“Really.”

“So, you'll be in my life?”

“Whether I like it or not. We're family now.” Kathy linked her arm through Stephanie's. “So we both begin a new year without a man—the same man.” Kathy smiled.

“Interesting times ahead.”

“Especially for you,” Kathy said.

“For both of us,” Stephanie said supportively.

“It'll be tough,” Kathy admitted. “I've no illusions about that. But I stood outside the office on Saturday and looked at the sign that read R&K Productions . . . and I've been thinking about the young woman I used to be. I was so passionate. So smart. So brave. I had huge dreams, but I allowed them to be swallowed up by my husband.” She stopped walking and looked at Stephanie. “Half of R&K is mine, and I'm thinking . . . I might set up my own independent production company; I know Maureen will come with me, and I'm sure we could make it a success. What do you think?”