Distracted (16 page)

“Yes.” Tears slid down Erin’s face. “I mean, no.”

“Alright; it’s too late to save this job, but it’s
not too late to save you. I hold myself personally responsible. I
should have seen this coming. Here’s what you have to do. Are you
listening?”

“Yes.” More sniffles.

“Stop crying, girl. Where’s your backbone? You need
to get out of there right away. You need to get home. I have just
the job for you. There’s a music teacher -- don’t worry, he’s 86
and nearly toothless. He has the messiest memoirs I’ve ever read.
He’s a retired Georgetown professor so he’s right across town. You
can hop the Metro and work in his stuffy ivory tower. Nothing
distracting there.”

“But Patricia, what about my deposit?”

“I consider the deposit a wash. I take full
responsibility for this. I put you in his clutches, so consider it
hazard pay.”

Patricia was right. She had been on this fling too
long.

“Erin. Are you there?”

“Yes. I’m here. But what about the book?”

“I have a 65-year-old retired nun I can assign to the
project. Scratch that. Too risky.”

Erin didn’t notice the shadow moving through the
light under the door. “Yes, I know you’re right. I should never
have done this. I’m sorry that it’s ruined our relationship,” she
said.

“You don’t worry about the book. You worry about
Erin,” Patricia replied. “Like I said, I knew Stephen Spence was
trouble and I should never have put you two together.”

By the time she hung up, Erin was miserable. She sat
on the side of the tub and cried.

“Stupid, stupid. How could I let this happen?” She
beat her legs in frustration then jumped at the knock on the door.
She quickly locked the door.

“Erin? Baby, are you okay?”

She tore off a handful of tissue paper and blew her
nose. “Yes. I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”

He jiggled the doorknob. “Are you crying?”

“No. I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right
out.”

She turned on the shower and pulled off layers of
shirts, pants and socks. She stepped in the shower and cried a bit
more. Fifteen minutes later she emerged, her skin red, her hair
bedraggled. Her eyes were still swollen from crying.

Spence had shed a few layers of clothes and was
sitting on the sofa. His arms crossed, he glared at Erin.

“So what does Aidan want?”

Confused, Erin hesitated. He thought she was crying
because of Aidan? He didn’t know it had been Patricia on the phone.
She bit her lip, not sure what to say.

“Right. I thought you said that was over.”

“I did …,” she trailed off.

“I just heard you tell him you were sorry, you
shouldn’t have done this,” Spence said, his face tense. “Just what
kind of ‘relationship’ did you ruin?”

Erin trembled and studied the floor. If she said
nothing, it would end and Spence would still write his book.
Several heartbeats later he stood up and walked to the door.

“It’s hot in here. I’m going to lie in the hammock
for awhile.”

The screen door banged behind him and soon she heard
the gentle squeak of the hammock, rocking between the trees.

Erin retreated to the bedroom and pulled out her
suitcase. She opened it and began tossing clothes and books in,
grabbing handfuls from the bathroom and the living room. Then she
started packing Spence’s suitcase.

“Are we going somewhere?”

He lounged against the bedroom door.

“Y-y-yes,” Erin stuttered. “I have to go home right
away.”

Spence tilted his head and raised his eyebrows
quizzically.

“I can’t tell you anymore. I have to go. So do you.
You have to finish this book.”

“What if I told you I don’t care about the book?”

“You don’t mean that, Spence.”

“What’s this about, then?”

Erin thought quickly. If she admitted that she had
been fired, basically ordered out of his life, Spence would
explode. Not that he’d care about her, but he would care about the
high-handed way Patricia interfered in his life. Then he would
break the contract. She used the easiest lie.

“You’re right. It’s Aidan.”

Spence’s head whipped up. He didn’t expect Erin to
admit it. That’s why she knew it would work. “He’s … he’s in
trouble. I have to help him.”

“I thought you were divorced. You said he had a
girlfriend. Let her take care of him.”

“We are divorced, but we still share the same
apartment. And she left him.”

Spence grinned savagely. “So you’re running back, eh?
She’s gone and the coast is clear. Wait a minute; you still live
with him?”

“No. He lives with me. He’s been looking for a new
place but apartments are hard to find and they’re so expensive. I’m
not home that often, so I really don’t even notice him.”

“What about his girlfriend. Did you notice her?” His
voice dripped with sarcasm.

“I’ve never met her,” Erin admitted. “I know this is
upsetting you. I’m upset too. You can keep on writing, though.
You’ll be so far ahead by the time I get back…”

“You’re not coming back. We both know it.”

She turned away.

Spence kicked the living room table, upsetting the
lamp. The room fell dark, the light from the bedroom casting
shadows. Erin sank to her knees, sobbing. This seemed to enrage
Spence more. He grabbed her by her arms, yanked her to her feet and
shook her.

“Why are you doing this to us?”

“I’m sorry.” She hid her face in her hands. “I’m so
sorry.”

He pushed her away, his face settled into a stony
mask. “You’re sorry.” He grabbed the truck keys off the nail by the
front door. “I’m sorry, too. Sorry I met you.”

Moments later, the powerful SUV’s engine roared to
life, its spinning wheels tossing gravel as Spence drove away.

Chapter Twelve

Erin somberly kissed her sister goodbye, hugged her
brother-in-law, patted Ben on the head. She didn’t want them to
take her to Eaton’s tiny airport. She wanted to say her goodbyes
then disappear.

A car service had returned the SUV the day after
Spence’s departure. He chartered a private jet and returned to
North Carolina. Rather than drive the large vehicle on the Beltway,
Erin turned it in at the car rental counter at the airport, then
boarded the small airplane to D.C.

She drew more than a few stares from other travelers.
Puffy red eyes and a runny nose made it obvious she’d been crying
recently. Four hours and an ear-splitting Metro ride later, she
tugged her suitcase up the steps to her Dupont Circle apartment.
She put the key in the lock and opened the door. So familiar. Her
things were still here, right where she’d left them.

Aidan was in the kitchen cooking. Instrumental music
filled the apartment. He was playing her favorite CD. Fresh flowers
graced the table. Still, it couldn’t comfort her. She ached.

“I’m home,” she said, dropping her keys onto the
console.

“Hi honey. Rough trip?” Aidan breezed into the living
room and kissed her on the cheek. “Here, let me help you.” He took
the suitcase handle and wheeled it into her bedroom.

“Aidan? Is that you or a doppelganger?”

“Ha, ha. I know you’ve had a bad time and I just want
to cheer you up. It’s not every day our girl gets fired. In fact, I
don’t think it’s ever happened, has it?”

“Sometimes I wish you were gay. You could have been
such a good friend,” she said, silently adding “... instead of a
lousy husband.”

“I can pretend to be gay if it makes you happy.”

He pulled into his arms and hugged her.

“I’ve missed you, Erin,” he said, kissing her
forehead.

“Aidan. Don’t.”

“I’ve made you dinner.”

“I see.”

“I’ve got your favorite wine.”

“That’s nice, but I’m not …”

“Sshh,” he said, putting his finger on her lips.
“Just sit down and have something to eat.”

He pulled out her chair. She didn’t think she could
eat, but she sat down, drained a glass of wine and Aidan served her
dinner anyway.

“This is so good. Where did you learn how to make
this?” Erin asked, her cheeks stuffed with garlic mashed
potatoes.

“Mickey Mantle’s. It’s a restaurant in New York.”

“When did you go to New York?”

“A couple of weeks ago. I got a call from Columbia
University. They’ve accepted me into the post doctoral.”

“Aidan! That’s wonderful. When can you start?”

“You’re not upset?”

“Not at all. I’ve always wanted you to finish. I’ve
always wanted to call you Dr. Aidan Carter.”

“Why don’t you go with me? Then I can call you Mrs.
Dr. Aidan Carter?”

“Aidan; you don’t mean that.”

“Yes. I do. I’ve missed you. No one has ever
understood how important my research has been. No one has supported
me like you have. You’ve put up with my idiotic behavior…”

“Is that what they’re calling adultery nowadays?”
Erin interrupted, gazing into her wineglass.

“Don’t say that. I wish I could take back the past
two years. I’ve come to realize how special you are and I don’t
want to lose you again.”

“I’m not yours to lose.”

Aidan ignored that. “I know you’re tired. I know
you’re hurt. You need a little rest. Just think about it.
Please?”

Erin nodded, too exhausted to continue the argument.
She said goodnight and went into her bedroom. Without undressing,
she lay on the bed. It hurt to breathe. She touched her lips and
thought how they had burned against his. How his hands had touched
her, wherever and whenever he wanted. She curled into a ball and
cried softly.

* * *

The next morning, her door burst open and Aidan
bounced into the room. “Good morning sleepyhead.”

Erin rolled over grumpily.

“You didn’t even get undressed. You should have
called me. I could have helped. Here, let me do that.”

Aidan pushed her hand away and began unbuttoning her
blouse. Mauve with a plunging neck, only three buttons held the
blouse in place. With a flick of his wrist, he had unzipped her
skirt and shucked it down her legs. In seconds, she dressed only in
her panties and bra. She caught his hand, stopping him from
removing the rest.

“Boy, you’ve improved.”

“So have you, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.” Her heart thudded at the memory
of Spence, his lazy, Southern drawl, calling her “sweetheart.”

“You need a shower. You’re grouchy. Come on.”

“Aidan. I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can. I’ll help you.”

Aidan picked Erin up and easily carried her into the
bathroom. Depressed, she could barely lift her arms. Holding her
with one hand, he reached into the shower and turned on the water.
Steam began to fill the room.

“That’s the nice thing about this apartment. Lots of
hot water. Now get in there and take a shower,” he said, adding
with a roguish grin, “You want me to wash your back?”

Despite his gentle teasing, Erin’s head drooped. She
whispered, “I’ll never be happy again.”

“Yes you will,” he said and then kissed her
tenderly.

Erin leaned into him, imagining it was Stephen
touching her, caressing her. She touched his lean, handsome cheek.
All she could see was Spence’s dark tanned face, his bright white
smile and deep blue eyes that squinted when he laughed.

“Oh, why can’t you love me?”

“I do, Erin. I do.”

He kissed her again, pulling her closer. His breath
was ragged. He couldn’t believe how excited he was, how soft and
compliant she seemed. He could feel the adrenaline surging through
his body, driving him wild.

That she was here, home with him again and in his
arms was almost impossible to believe. It had been so long since
they were like this. This was a new beginning. He murmured words of
endearment against the bare skin of her shoulder.

Erin felt fragile. Her heart was crystal and had
shattered. She thought, what’s the difference? Why not let someone
love me?

But she couldn’t. She put her hand against his chest
and pushed.

Aidan bit back his frustration. “Okay, okay. You’re
not ready. Next time I’ll be more patient,” he said.

There won’t be a next time Erin thought, as she
turned away and pulled the bathroom door closed. She stepped into
the shower where she could cry alone.

* * *

Summer faded and Aidan moved to New York. Alone.
Autumn leaves turned a glorious red and gold before falling to the
crowded city streets. Frantic squirrels raced around, creating food
caches for winter. Erin moved mechanically through each day,
spending her time trying not to think about Spence.

She donated most of her clothes to charity, hoping a
new wardrobe would help. She avoided people and kept her cell phone
to her ear while she walked the crowded streets or rode the
Metro.

The city became gray and dreary. Erin kept busy
during the day, conducting research at the library and transcribing
notes from the music professor. At night, she pulled on her sweats,
crawled into bed with chocolate, and watched old black-and-white
movies. She cried hysterically once in a while, and it felt good.
She gained weight as she settled into her depression.

Patricia soon tired of her angst.

“How long do you intend to mope?”

Erin flinched at Patricia’s direct and caustic
question.

“I’m not moping.” She squirmed in the pin-striped
chair, once again. She glanced at the side table and saw the latest
issue of the glossy magazine “US.” She caught a glimpse of a sandy
beach and a couple walking in the aqua surf. Shuddering, she turned
back to Patricia. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not. You’re moody and fat.”

“Sheesh! I’m not fat!”

“Keep it up and you will be. Want a cigarette?”
Patricia pulled a pack from her desk drawer and shook it in front
of Erin. “Go on; it cuts your appetite.”