Pages

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Highwire - Part 7

The elevator door opened, and Jack and Claire stepped into the lobby of Jack's apartment building. Sitting with the building's doorman were two of the plain-clothes police officers that had been assigned to protect Claire. The policemen were in their mid to late 20s. When the officers saw Claire, they stood and approached her.

"Ms. Kincaid, Mr. McCoy," said the shorter of the two men, "My name is Justin Moore, and this is my partner, Tom Michelson."

Jack and Claire shook the hands of the two men.

"My dad was a cop, Mr. McCoy," Tom Michelson informed him. "When I told him I'd been assigned to Ms. Kincaid, and that she'd be staying with you until the perp is brought in, he told me that he'd testified in court for you a dozen or so times while he was on the force. He said you were --are-- a helluva prosecutor."

Jack smiled broadly --he loved compliments. "Are you Jim Michelson's son?"

"That's right."

"Tell your old man I said 'hello', and tell him I always thought he was a helluva witness. He carried himself very well in court. I can't recall ever having seen him broken on cross. I was sorry to hear about his early retirement a few years back."

"Thanks, Mr. McCoy, I'll be sure to tell him."

"Great," said Jack, "But call me Jack, please. You know, I took your dad out for a couple of drinks one night after he broke the alibi of a man who'd murdered his own wife and family."

"He told me."

"You're old man was a good cop, son."

"Don't I know it," replied Tom, without a hint of envy or resentment in his voice, "I only hope I can be half as good as he was."

Small talk at an end, Jack informed the two cops of their plans for the afternoon. "Ms. Kincaid and I are going out to grab a bite to eat. I was woefully unprepared for guests, and there is absolutely no suitable food in my refrigerator."

The two men chuckled: as bachelors, they were all to familiar with the concept of a refrigerator full of beer, condiments, old take-out, and the moldy stuff in the back of the fridge that can best be described as "science experiments".

"How is this going to work, guys?" queried Claire. "Are you going to watch the building in case Gordon shows up, or are you going to shadow me every time I go out in public?"

"We're going to be your escorts, Ms. Kincaid," said Moore.

"Claire, please,"

"Well, Claire," Moore continued, "we'll be following along behind you, on foot if you are, in a vehicle if you are, as well as going into any place you go into, that sort of thing."

Claire fought hard to hide her distaste. She was used to a life of relative anonymity, and the idea of going out in public with an entourage bothered her immensely. Having officers tailing her also placed restrictions on her public behaviour with Jack. Though they had not discussed it, both she and Jack were trying to keep their relationship under wraps for the time being. In light of their respective pasts (Jack and his previous assistants, Claire and Judge Thayer), this seemed the best course of action, at least for a time. Neither of them were self-delusional enough to think that they could keep their relationship on the down-low for very long.

Michelson took note of Claire's discomfort and said, "Look....Claire....We know this is going to be unpleasant for you. Our goal is to intrude as little as possible, while taking certain precautions to ensure your safety. We're just going to follow you around and make sure that Gordon doesn't come after you again. And if he does, we'll be there to grab him."

* * * * *

After lunch, Claire and Jack, followed closely by Officers Moore and Michelson, drove to the office so that Jack could get his motorcycle. On the way back to Jack's apartment, Claire felt even more uncomfortable. Jack was in front of her on his bike, and her police escort brought up the rear. Claire let out a low, derisive laugh at the thought of herself navigating the streets of Manhattan in the midst of her own personal motorcade. She felt more than a little conspicuous. She consoled herself with the fact that she had a great view of Jack's derrière for the duration of the journey.

In the lobby of Jack's building, they were greeted with a gigantic surprise: Adam was there, waiting for them.

"To what do I owe this honour?" questioned Jack. Adam wasn't in the habit of making house calls.

"It's not every day that a pivotal member of my staff is attacked in the parking garage by a serial rapist," Adam replied. He seemed stripped of the gruffness that often characterised his in-office demeanor. Both Jack and Claire noted the empathy and concern in his tone. "I've come to see how you're doing, Claire."

"I'm doing just fine, Adam," she told him, adding "Really."

"Let's go up to my apartment," Jack offered.

"Fine," said Adam.

Adam's reaction to the state of Jack's apartment was much the same as Claire's had been the night before, only he was not too distraught to make a comment or two, as she had been.

"Jack, I realise you are over-worked, and likely don't have the patience for housecleaning after a long and arduous day in court, but with what you're paid, one would assume you'd be able to afford a housekeeper," quipped Adam, "Or at the very least, a few more bookshelves."

Claire laughed, "That's just what I thought when he opened the door for me last night, Adam."

"Sure," said Jack, "Wait until Adam gets here to let your real feelings be known."

Claire sat next to Adam on the sofa, and Jack fell into his easy chair.

"It's a good thing I got rid of the wine bottle and put the glasses in the dishwasher," Jack thought to himself. He wasn't ready for Adam to know the truth about his relationship with Claire. In light of his previous affairs with female assistants, he was sure Adam would disapprove.

"Excuse me for a moment," said Claire, and she got up and disappeared into the bathroom.

"Jack, there's something I want to say to you now," Adam said, suddenly very serious now that they were alone for a time, "It's a warning of sorts."

"What is it, Adam?"

"About Claire...she's extremely vulnerable right now. I know you would never intentionally take advantage of her...but let's face it, yours is not the best track record on Center Street. I've seen enough heartbreak between you and your female assistants to last a lifetime, Jack. Claire has got a real future in the DA's office, if that's what she wants, and I would hate to see an affair-gone-sour ruin that."

Jack thought for a minute about his response. "Adam, vulnerable or not, Claire is not exactly the kind of woman that lets a man take advantage of her, so you needn't worry about that," he said, finally. "Besides, Claire knows exactly who and what I've been in the past. She had my number from day one. No, I don't think I'll be taking advantage of Claire."

Claire re-entered the living room, and their conversation ceased instantly.

"You two are looking at me as if my ears should be burning. Should they?" she asked.

"Jack was just asking if there was any news about Gordon," said Adam.

"Is there?" Claire asked hopefully.

"Unfortunately, no. There was a car stolen in the area last night, and a witness said a man of Gordon's height, weight, and hair colour drove off in it after busting a window. But it was in a dark area, and our witness was a fair distance from the vehicle," Adam explained. "But it's very likely that this is just a coincidence. In this city, chances are greater that it was NOT Gordon than they are that it was."

Jack and Claire nodded.

"It was on the 6 and 10 o'clock news last night that the rape and murder charges against Gordon had been dropped and that he was out on bail," Adam explained. "Have you seen this morning's Post?" Jack and Claire shook their heads in the negative. "The headline was 'Women Beware: Accused Serial Rapist Set Free on Technicality'." There's a picture of Gordon and his legal aid attorney So far, we've been able to keep last night's incident under wraps, and for your sake, Claire, I'd like to keep it that way. But once it gets around the office Monday morning, I don't think that's going to remain possible. You should try to prepare yourself for some intense local media coverage."

"Wonderful," sighed Claire.

"If you like, you can take some time off until all of this dies down," offered Adam.

"Just what I need...more spare time to dwell on what almost happened to me last night. No, Adam, if you don't mind, I'd like to continue working. Try to maintain some semblance of normalcy, until Gordon is caught."

"Up to you," said Adam.

"Well, then, I'll be in the office first thing Monday morning, as usual."

"Fine," Adam said as he rose from the sofa. "I'd better be going. Josh and his family are coming to dinner this evening, and I promised Mrs. Schiff I'd get some things from the market on the way home."

Both Jack and Claire rose from their seats, and walked Adam to the door. Jack and Adam shook hands, and afterwards, Adam patted Claire on the arm and said "This will all be over soon, Claire. Gordon's face is all over the news. The cops are canvassing the streets. If he's still in this city, it's only a matter of time before they bring him in."

"Thank you Adam," Claire said, touched by his concern. "your coming here means a lot."

They said their goodbyes, and Adam vanished down the hall.

Claire walked back to the sofa, kicked off her shoes, and sat down with her feet tucked under her. After closing the door, Jack came and sat beside her.

"If Adam had come by earlier this morning," commented Claire, "Say for instance, just after our shower, it could have been disastrous. I can just imagine the lecture."

"It wouldn't have been much worse than the one I just got while you were in the bathroom."

"Aha!! I knew the two of you were talking about something other than Gordon," Claire remarked. "So tell me what he said."

"He warned me not to take advantage of you in your current, vulnerable state."

"And what did you say? Did you tell him you already had?" she teased.

"Hell no!" Jack snorted. "I told him you weren't the sort of woman a man can easily take advantage of."

"And why aren't I?" Claire loved the repartee that often existed between herself and Jack.

"Because you think too much," he told her.

"That's not entirely true, Jack." She was baiting him, and she knew he knew it.

"Oh?" he questioned, eyebrows raised, accepting the bait.

"Haven't you figured out yet that every time you kiss me --touch me-- you render me incapable of rational thought?"

"Do I now?"

"Mmmhmm," Claire nodded, rising to her knees on the couch and slinging a thigh over Jack's legs, so that she was sitting on his lap, facing him. He rested his hands on her hips as she began to massage his arms and shoulders.

"Did the two of you say anything else?" she asked, after a time.

"Yes," Jack stated, "I also told him that I wasn't in a position to take advantage of you because you'd had my number from day one."

"Yep, that's right, I did," she said, "And I fell for you in spite of it. Go figure."

"You did?" he questioned, and Claire noticed the slight disbelief in his tone of voice.

"Didn't you know?" she asked. "Jack, I wouldn't be here if I hadn't. I don't just jump into bed with someone unless there is some sort of emotional attachment there. I can't detach my body from my heart and mind."

He was pleased, and relieved, by her answer, she could tell, because the tension that had appeared in his body when he'd asked if she had indeed fallen for him seemed to abate.

"I mean more to you than a good time, too....don't I, Jack?" she asked, mirroring his anxiety of only moments before. She noticed as she spoke that her voice was softer than usual, and less sure.

"My God, Claire," declared Jack, taking her face in his hands. "Of course you do. So much more. Do you doubt it?"

She shook her head, "But I had to hear you say it."

His hands slid behind her head and he crushed his lips against hers. It was the closest thing to a declaration of love that had thus far passed between them.

They smiled shyly at one another when their kiss was over.

"Now I don't want you to get a big head over this," Jack told her, "But part of Adam's lecture was that he felt a personal relationship between us would damage our work relationship, and he didn't want to see that happen. I believe his exact words were, 'Claire's got a real future in the DA's office, if that's what she wants, and I would hate to see an affair-gone-sour ruin that'."

"Adam is a very wise man," Claire pronounced in mock solemnity. It wasn't that she felt her statement to be untrue, for she did in fact revere Adam as a very wise man. At the moment however, as her fingers nimbly undoing the buttons of Jack's shirt suggested, she had other things on her mind.

"That he is," replied Jack, glancing down at her hands. "Um, Claire, what're you doing?"

"I'm trying to take advantage of you."

*****


After some time --neither could have said exactly how long-- they moved to Jack's bedroom, littering the living room and hallway with their clothing as they went. They tumbled into Jack's unmade bed, and spent a long time just kissing, touching and holding each other, until passion overwhelmed them once more, and their bodies joined together with care and reverence.

They fell asleep afterwards, happy and exhausted. Jack woke first. Feeling a slight chill, he observed that some time during their lovemaking, the pillows, covers and blankets had fallen from the bed. Claire was on her side, head rested on his chest, and he eased his way from beneath her slowly, loathe to wake her. She stirred slightly and rolled to her stomach. He picked his down comforter off the floor and gently draped it over her, deciding to let her sleep as long as she could. He exited the room, closing the door behind him quietly.

Gathering their clothes on the way to the living room, he thought about what to do for dinner. They could always eat out, but her police escort killed the romance in that. They would have to put on a show for the two officers. It would be as though they were having lunch at one of the restaurants near the office. He could order in, or go pick something up, but eating out of a carton was also too office-like. He resigned to do something he hadn't done in a while: cook. He wasn't a bad cook, in fact, surprisingly, he was quite good --at certain dishes--, he just didn't like cooking for one. It reminded him what a lonely life he had led. Most men his age had been married for 20 years, give or take. His marriage had lasted 3. Sure, he had never been without some sort of female companionship for any great period of time, but he had never been able to shake the sense of loneliness with any of his previous women. He had always felt somewhat detached from them. They had been expedient, convenient. With Claire it was different. Even when she wasn't in physical proximity, he felt less alone than he had at anytime in his life.

He dressed and left Claire a note saying he had gone to the market, so she wouldn't worry if she woke while he was gone.

In the lobby, he stopped to talk with officers Moore and Michelson.

"Claire's upstairs taking a nap, and I'm off to get some food from the market."

"Will she be going out anymore this evening?" asked Moore.

"I don't think so," replied Jack. "She hasn't mentioned anything to me."

"Alright then, in an hour or so the two of us will be going home, and some officers will be coming on to watch the building for signs of Gordon. In a pinch, they can be used as a public escort, but we'd prefer if Claire would stay in once their shift starts," explained Michelson.

"Fine," said Jack, "I'll see to it."

*****


When Jack returned form the market a short time later, he set his bags of groceries on the counter and went to check on Claire. She was still sleeping, curled on her side. He stood marveling at the beautiful creature in his bed for several long minutes. Sleep added something to her beauty, he mused silently. In sleep she seemed so innocent and serene, like a mythical slumbering nymph.

He smiled to himself, closed the door again and returned to the kitchen to put the groceries away.

Opening a cabinet door, he pulled out a large pot, filled it with water and set it on the stove to boil. He had decided on salad and a pasta dish: angel hair pasta with tomatoes, basil, olive oil, and some small cubes of mozzarella cheese. Once he had cut the tomatoes, he set about the daunting task of clearing off his table so they'd have a place to eat.

*****


In the other room, Claire was still asleep, dreaming. Her dream started innocently enough, she was in the office, doing some of the seemingly endless amount of paperwork her job required, when her telephone rang. She picked it up, and a voice that seemed somehow familiar told her to meet him in the parking garage in twenty minutes.

"Who is this?" she asked.

"Just be by your car in twenty minutes," the voice told her just before the line went dead.

Next thing Claire knew, twenty minutes had flown (as time often does in dreams), and she was stepping out of the elevator in the parking garage, heading for her car.

The artificial lights from overhead cast an eerie yellow glow over the garage, which was empty, though it was the middle of the day, and the office above was bustling with those who peopled the criminal justice system.

She went to her car, but there was no one to be seen. She wondered if he --whoever "he" was-- expected to find her waiting for him in her car, so she moved to open the door. That's when she heard the breathing behind her. She wheeled around and ended up practically nose to nose with Alex Gordon. Her knees went weak, and she had to lean back against her car to steady herself.

He looked so menacing, and he was saying something to her, but she could only see his lips move. All she could hear was the sound of blood pounding in her ears, so great was her fear.

She looked wildly around for Jack, secure in the knowledge that he would come to her rescue...but he didn't come. Gordon forced her into the car, and it was at this point that Claire was startled into consciousness. She was disoriented for a moment, and glanced around at Jack's bedroom, half expecting to find Gordon there, slinking in some corner, waiting for her.

Jack was no longer in the bed with her, and through the closed door she could faintly hear him moving around in some other part of the apartment. She got up from the bed and realised that the clothes she had been wearing earlier were scattered about Jack's living room and hallway. She padded silently across the floor, opened the door, and walked down the hall to the spare bedroom, which still housed her suitcase. She dressed quickly in a pair of jeans and fitted T-shirt, and went to find Jack.

She found him in the kitchen, his back was to her, so he hadn't seen, or heard, her enter. She could see that he was cutting vegetables for a salad. She leaned against the doorjamb and watched him work, not saying anything.

Eventually, he turned around, and started a bit at the sight of Claire standing there so quietly.

"Good God, woman!" he exclaimed. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

She shook her head and laughed. "I didn't know you could cook."

"I'm full of surprises," he teased crossing to her and pulling her into a hug. "Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby," she lied. Jack was already doing so much for her, by letting her stay with him during this trying time in her life, that she didn't want to burden him with more. Also, she firmly believed that these dreams she was having would go away soon. She had experienced a trauma, and she new enough about trauma victims from talking to the victims of crime over the past few years to know that shock often manifested itself through the sub-conscious. That was compounded by the fact that the role of victim was a new one for her, one she felt extremely uncomfortable in. Finally, she was anxious not to appear a timid, clinging, overly-needy woman.

"Good," he said, pulling back far enough so that he could gaze down at her. He pushed her hair back from her face, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, before squeezing her tightly, and releasing her to finish preparing the meal.

"Anything I can do?" she asked.

"Nope, not a thing," he told her, "Everything's pretty much done, I'm just waiting for the noodles to finish cooking."

"What're we having?"

"You'll see. Why don't you go read, or watch TV while I finish up in here? I'll call you when it's ready." He wasn't trying to get rid of her, but he knew that if she stayed in the kitchen, she would likely end up helping him, and he wanted to do this for her.

"Okay. See you in a few minutes," she replied, laying a chaste kiss on his cheek and heading for the living room. She walked on, down the hallway, and into Jack's bedroom, smiling at the pillows and blankets all over the floor as she turned on the lights. She re-made the bed, leaving the covers pulled back for later. When she had finished, she went into he bathroom.

"God! My hair's a mess!" she said aloud, and picked up the brush.

She heard Jack calling to tell her that dinner was ready, and she finished brushing quickly, washed her hands, and went to rejoin Jack. When she walked into the living room, he was bending over his fireplace, starting a roaring fire. On the opposite side of the room, the dining area, Jack's dinner table was visible. In the center of the table, two very long, thin candles were burning. A large bowl of pasta was placed next to a tossed salad, a basket of warm sliced French bread, and an open bottle of red wine.

Claire smiled and hugged herself. She had never imagined Jack could be such a romantic, and it pleased her to no end. He walked up next to her, offered his arm and asked, "May I?"

She linked her arm through his and allowed herself to be escorted to the table. Once there, he pulled the seat out for her, and poured her a glass of wine. He walked to his chair, which was just to her left, rather than across from her. She held her plate for him, and he placed a healthy portion of salad and pasta on it, stopping only when she said "when".

"What's in this pasta, Jack?"

"A little basil, some olive oil, tomato, and mozzarella cheese."

He held the bread basket for her. She took a slice and lightly buttered it, before digging into the salad, which Jack had tossed with an Italian vinaigrette.

She closed her eyes in delight at the taste of the pasta dish Jack had prepared, saying, "Mmmm, Jack, this is delicious."

"Don't sound so surprised, Claire," he quipped, "I've been a bachelor most of my life....it was only logical that eventually I'd figure out how to cook. In the lean years after law school I couldn't exactly afford to eat out every meal."

"This is incredible all the same, Jack."

"You're incredible," he offered, reaching over and taking her left hand in his right one, leaning down as he brought her hand to his lips. After, he dropped their hands to the table, still holding hers tightly as he massaged the back of her hand with his thumb. They stared at each other for several heartbeats, until the heat from Jack's intense gaze caused Claire to blush. She looked down at her plate, and he released her hand. She reached for her glass of wine, and took a large gulp.

"I've been thinking," said Jack. "The office holiday party is coming up in a couple of weeks. I was wondering what your thoughts were on the subject?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I for one don't generally go stag," he confessed.

"Are you asking me on a date?"

"I don't know....that's why I want to know what you think," he told her. "So far, we seem to have been able to keep this...keep us....out of the rumour mill. Adam doesn't suspect anything. If we go together, people are going to know what we're doing. I'm sure everyone in the office knows about me and my former assistants. And most of them know about you and Joel Thayer. In light of that, it's going to be apparent what's going on between us. How do you feel about that?"

"Given our pasts, I'm sure half of them already assume we're sleeping together, and have been for sometime. You know, it's really not our co-workers that I'm worried about. Let them think what they want. What concerns me is Adam's reaction. He's going to assume that you took advantage of me while I was here, and having seen the end of your relationships with your previous female assistants, he'll just be waiting for us to fall apart, leaving him to pick up the pieces of our broken personal and professional relationship."

"You're absolutely right on all counts," he conceded.

"So where does that leave us?" she asked.

"It seems as though it all comes down to whether we're ready to deal with Adam."

"So it does."

"Any thoughts?" he asked.

"I think that eventually he's going to figure it out," she replied.

"Do we want to help his discovery along?"

"I honestly don't know, Jack. Part of me says to hold off, that if we wait a while, when Adam does put two and two together, at least we'll be in a position to say, 'We've been together X amount of time, and see, it hasn't damaged our working relationship'."

"And what does the other part of you say, Claire?"

"The other part....I guess the other part wishes we didn't have to worry about the opinions of our boss and our colleagues. That part tells me to find the nearest open window and shout 'I'm with Jack, and everyone's opinions be damned!!' But we clearly don't live in the kind of world where the opinions of others do not matter. And in our line of work, opinion is even more important, because it is linked to credibility."

"So we don't go together," said Jack, "with one stipulation."

"Oh yeah?" Claire teased, "And what's that?"

"We get to go home together afterwards."

"Deal."

*****

When they had finished with their meal, Claire helped Jack clear the table and load the dishwasher. Both felt happily domestic, especially Claire, who had never been with any of her previous boyfriends long enough to set up house. She had, of course, spent the night with them in their apartments, and they with her at her place, and had even gone on vacations with several of them, but never had the feeling of domesticity engulfed her as it was doing now. There was something that seemed to click into place in her head about she and Jack in the kitchen together, sharing a chore. It felt so natural. It just...fit.

Dishes done, they returned to the living room with their more than half full bottle of red wine. Jack sat on the floor in front of the fire with his back against the easy chair. Claire sat down in front of him, between his legs, and leaned back against his chest. They stayed like that for a long while, just casually drinking wine and watching the fire dance in silence.

Eventually, Jack broke their silent reverie and asked, "Are you ready for dessert?"

"What sort of dessert?"

"Not what you're thinking," he told her, tapping her nose lightly.

He excused himself and headed for the kitchen. When he returned, he was carrying a plate with the largest piece of cheesecake Claire had ever seen.

"Kaluha cheesecake," he told her, "Specialty of the bakery around the corner. I was going to get two pieces, but when I saw how big they cut it, I knew one would be more than enough. And a helluva lot more fun."

He set the plate down on the coffee table, picked his wine glass and the bottle off the floor and set them on the table, too. He offered Claire his hand and pulled her up when she took it in hers. They moved to the couch and sat, Claire still holding her glass. She set her glass down as Jack picked up the plate and fork, scooped up a forkful of cheesecake and held it out for Claire. She reached out and held his wrist to steady his hand as he slid the fork between her parted lips. She closed her eyes and reveled in the delicious, sinful delight.

"This is heavenly!" Claire exclaimed as Jack took a bite, then nodded in agreement

Jack fed Claire another bite, and accidentally got a little of it on the on her face, just next to the side of her lip. With his index finger he quickly wiped it off, then, as she watched, he sucked his finger clean. This gave Claire an idea. She reached down and scooped some of the cheesecake onto her finger, and offered it to Jack. He grabbed her wrist as she had done when he'd offered her the first bite of the dessert, and proceeded to suck her finger clean. They maintained an intense eye-contact throughout. Claire scooped up another finger-full of cheesecake, and this time when Jack reached for her wrist as her hand approached his lips, she grabbed his hand with her free one to stop him, and smeared the cake across his lips. She leaned over to kiss and lick it off. They continued feeding each other in this manner until every last delicious crumb of cheesecake was gone.

After setting the plate down, Jack pulled Claire close and said low, "Cheesecake never tasted so good."

Claire responded, but not with words. Cupping Jack's face in her hands, she kissed him, long and passionately. They could still faintly taste the cheesecake on each other as the kiss deepened further, once again igniting the smoldering, seemingly unquenchable embers of their desire for one another.

*****

Early the next morning, Jack and Claire were in bed, talking. Though the sun was just beginning to peek through the slats of Jack's Venetian blinds, they had been awake for some time. Jack sat with his back against the headboard, and Claire was facing him, knees hugged tightly to her chest, legs crossed at the ankles, chin resting on one of her knees.

They covered a myriad of subjects, which amounted to nothing incredibly substantial, just chatter.

Out of the blue, Claire asked, "Why don't you ever talk about your daughter, Jack?"

"Maggie? I don't know. We haven't been having intimate conversations for very long, Claire."

"I know Jack, but I didn't necessarily mean just to me. But in general. I don't think I've ever heard you mention her, not even casually. I just wondered why."

"I think I don't discuss her more because it's painful for me to think about what a poor excuse for a father I've been to her. It's not the most satisfying thought knowing that you have a child in the world who you've never really been there for."

"Why haven't you been there for her?"

"Kathy walked out on me when Maggie was two and a half. Our marriage wasn't working, both of us knew that. We were horribly unhappy together....we only married in the first place because she had become pregnant. So Kathy took Maggie and moved back to San Francisco to live with her parents while she figured out what it was she wanted...and I wasn't it. We divorced 6 months after she left me. She went to work in the Federal Prosecutor's office there, and through a co-worker, was introduced to the man she later married. A man as different from me as she could find, so she said. Just before Maggie was 4, they were married."

"Are they still together?"

"Yes, happily, so I understand."

"You don't sound very bitter about that, Jack."

"I'm not. Why should I be? I don't begrudge Kathy her happiness just because she and I couldn't make each other happy. For a lot of years, I resented her husband. Not because he was with the woman who had been my wife, but because he became the father to Maggie that I couldn't be. Kathy asked for full custody, and I didn't contest it. I was given visitation rights, of course, and I paid child support. I was allowed to go out to visit whenever I liked, and Maggie was able to come here whenever school was out, as long as I paid the travel expenses.

"I tried to make it out to San Francisco at least once a year, and Maggie used to spend a month with me each summer, and a week during her Christmas vacations. After her first year of high school, that all changed. That summer, she went to Europe with a friend's family during July, the month she usually came to stay with me. The next summer, she had her first job, and was unable to come, and that was true for the rest of the time she was in high school. By that time, I had made EADA, and it became increasingly difficult for me to get away. She still came for a week each Christmas, but everything was different. She seemed so distant, it was almost as though we were strangers. I could tell she'd rather have been in California, spending her vacation with her friends. She had begun to resent the fact that I hadn't been there for all the important milestones of her life: school plays, parent/teacher conferences, swim meets, the everyday things that are so important to teenagers. And the more important firsts: her first day of high school, first date, first boyfriend. When you're young, I think it must hurt very much to not have the people who are supposed to love you more than anybody else by your side. Even though she understood cerebrally that my career was here, on an emotional level I believe she must have thought that I loved my work more than I loved her. And nothing I could do in one week out of the year could make up for that feeling of my having chosen, in her mind, my career over my daughter."

Jack took a few deep breaths, and Claire wondered if he was going to continue. When he didn't, she asked, "Have you tried talking to her about this, Jack?"

"What would I say, Claire?"

"You might start by asking her about her feelings."

"So I can hear from my daughter precisely what an ass of a father I've been?"

"Where is she now, Jack?"

"She's in her first year of law school --Berkeley."

"Ahh, Boalt Hall, eh? Good school. If I hadn't gotten into Harvard, that's where I would have gone."

"She's a smart kid. She graduated summa cum laude from USC with degree in political science."

"Did she invite you to the graduation?"

"Yes, of course."

"Did you go?"

Jack looked away from her.

"Why not, Jack?" Claire frowned.

"She didn't want me there."

"Jack....my God...for a man as intelligent as you are, you can be remarkably dense!"

He snapped his head back to look at her. He opened his mouth as though he were about to make a scathing remark, but thought better of it, and clapped his mouth shut. He threw the cover off and walked, naked, across the room.

"Jack....she wouldn't have invited you if she didn't want you there. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking how awkward it would be for me to show up there...I was thinking what it had been like at her high school graduation, with her mother and her step-father and his family. Being introduced as the "biological father", emphasis on the biological part. And it was true...what did I ever offer Maggie, really, other than half of her genetic make-up and her last name? I couldn't go through that again. At the time, I told myself it was because I was working on a big case and couldn't afford the time off. But really, I was trying to spare myself. And in doing so, I think I may have permanently damaged whatever relationship she and I had left. So there you have it, Claire, I'm a bastard, and I think only of myself. And this is the man with whom you have involved yourself. If you were smart, you'd get your things and walk out my door, just like everyone before you, and never look back."

Jack's voice had cracked several times during this last speech, and tears had welled in Claire's eyes. He was stripped of his usual self-confidence and bravado, and Claire was amazed to see that underneath, Jack was really rather insecure. She got off the bed and walked up behind him. She wrapped her arms around his midsection and laid her cheek against his back.

After a time, she saw Jack reach up and wipe his eyes --he had been crying. She turned him to her. He tried to avoid looking her in the eye, and so she took his face in her hands, saying, "I for one can vouch that you think of others. What am I doing here, Jack? If you hadn't been thinking of me, I might not be alive right now. For the past few days, you've put me first. You rescued me from that maniac, and you've rescued me a thousand times over in little ways since then. Jack , you've been my sanctuary."

He kissed her lightly, tentatively. She wrapped her arms around him, and he laid his head on her shoulder, holding her so tight she almost couldn't breathe. "Please, Claire..." he croaked, "say you won't leave me. I don't think I could take it if you did."

"I won't Jack...I won't leave you," as she lovingly stroked his hair.

*****

Later that morning, as they were showering, Jack asked Claire what she would like to do for the day.

"I'd love to go for a run, I should have gone yesterday...but I don't think that would be fair to my police escort."

"They're young and fit, Claire, I'm sure they could keep up."

"I know...but still, I can't ask them to do that. I could always go to the gym..." she said, "Yeah...that's what I'll do...spend some time on the treadmill. You could come with me, Jack, if you like. I'm allowed to bring a guest."

"Fine," he agreed, "I haven't been going to the gym as often as I should of late, anyhow."

"And when we're done with our work-out," she told him, "I'll let you buy me lunch."

"Oh, will you?"

"Yep...but I warn you...after a work out, I'm famished."

"Good God, what does that mean?" he asked in mock-fear. "You already eat more than any woman I've ever met."

She slapped his chest and he grinned down at her through the steam of the shower.

"Tell you what," he said, "after lunch, I'll even take you to see that movie we were supposed to see Friday night."


*****

They returned home in the evening, after the gym, lunch, and the movie, which both of them had loved, Claire cajoled Jack and her police escort into driving over to her apartment in the East Village, so that she might stop by her neighbour's apartment and pay a visit to Lucy, whom she missed. She played with and petted her cat for sometime, until she could see that Jack was getting bored by the idle chatter of her neighbour, a kindly old woman taken to telling any and everybody who would listen about her various ailments and medical problems.

On the way back to Jack's apartment, they had stopped and picked up a pizza for dinner.

The officers charged with Claire's night watch had been waiting to relieve officers Moore and Michelson when they returned to Jack's apartment building. Jack and Claire went upstairs. They ate their pizza, and Claire talked Jack into a game of chess.

"Can we make it strip-chess?" he asked her, feigning seriousness.

"Just how, pray tell, does one play strip-chess?"

"Every time you lose a piece, you lose an article of clothing."

"We're not wearing that many articles of clothing, Jack."

"Great, then when all our clothes are gone, we can play chess in the nude," he replied, nonchalant, as he dug his fingers lightly into Claire's side, tickling her.

"You!" she exclaimed.

"I'm kidding....of course we can play chess."

"Care to make it interesting?"

"Sure...what do you want to bet?"

"If I win...I want you to use those big, strong hands," she said suggestively, "to give me a back rub."

"You've got it."

"What do you want if you win?"

"You," he said, "Just you."

No comments:

Post a Comment