More Than Friends (35 page)

"Cocoa?"

Sam shook his head. He saw paintings on the front wall that were different from the ones he had seen there last time and guessed Pete had done some housecleaning. The background was a fresh pale yellow, nearly the same color as Pete's shirt and very much the color of the paint stains on the carton in the kitchen. Sam figured pale yellow was the color of the year.

"How about a brandy?" Pete asked.

Sam chuckled. "Not yet. I still have to get us back to Constance to pick up Annie and Zoe, but you can bet I have a flask for the game." They were going to the annual Thanksgiving football game between Jon's team and its archrival. The kickoff was set for ten o'clock. "It'll help keep us warm."

"Jock-o'-my-Jon ready to play?"

"As ready as he'll ever be," Sam said. He wandered to the back wall where the family pictures were. "It's his last game. Makes it kind of emotional." He looked over the pictures of Annie, so like Zoe as a child, then so like herself as an adult.

"She isn't like her mama, that's for sure," Pete said, coming up from behind. "Neither in looks or personality. Her mama left, just picked up and went. Annie's a keeper," he said with a gravelly grunt as he hitched up the straps of his overalls.

Sam looked at the newest picture Pete had drawn of Annie. She was standing on what looked to be a beach, with her arms wrapped around her waist and her skirt and blouse billowing in the wind. Her hair, too, was blown back, leaving her face exposed and vulnerable. Pete had drawn her in profile, which was unusual for him.

Unable to take his eyes from the drawing, Sam asked, "How much do you know about what happened?"

"Just that she's unhappy. I take it Teke's involved, since we're not going there this Thanksgiving."

Sam released a breath. "Teke and I were found in a compromising position by Michael on the day he was hit by that truck. From start to finish, it was one tragic coincidence after another. Teke's marriage is messed up. I'm fighting for mine. Think I can win?" Pete was silent for so long that Sam was sure he was furious. When he dared a look, though, he nearly laughed. Seeming lost in thought, the man was wearing a tie that was white with large orange

hearts, neatly knotted and tucked into the bib of blue corduroy overalls. With the tabs of his collar sticking out at odd angles, he was a perfect caricature of the old geezer.

"She loves you," Pete said.

Sam prodded, "But she doesn't trust me."

"She doesn't trust herself. She has low self esteem. She blames herself for what you did."

"But I've told her it wasn't her fault. Many times." Pete tapped a drawing of Annie's mother. Annie was a baby, on all fours, appearing forgotten in the background. "It comes from this. Maybe I shouldn't have put it on the wall, but it was the way I saw it. I wanted Annie to know. I was angry. I felt rejected, too."

"I'm not rejecting Annie," Sam insisted. "She's rejecting me."

"Because she feels she isn't good enough for you. Build her up, Sam. You can do it. There's reason why she's on that wall half face. She's only half the person she should be without you. Make her whole, Sam. You did it once, do it again."

Whereas the Popes were planning a leisurely afternoon after the game, then a four o'clock dinner, the Maxwells were eating at two. Teke had planned it that way in deference to J.D, who had said that he wanted to be back in Boston for a late afternoon cocktail party. She didn't know who gave cocktail parties on Thanksgiving Day, but she wasn't challenging him. She was grateful that he was coming for dinner, since Michael and the girls had wanted it so.

Did she want it? She hadn't been sure after tasting Grady in the woods that day, but a part of her still did cling to the hope of saving her marriage.

She liked J.D." she really did. He had given her a nice life and the security she had always wanted. She owed him for that and for what she had done with Sam. More, she owed it to the kids to give the marriage every last chance.

But she was a nervous wreck. In the best of scenarios the meal would be pleasant from start to finish, in the worst it would be a nightmare of spats and indigestion. She prayed for the first, if only for the kids' sake. They were her first priority.

Jana and Leigh came home from Jonathan's game in time to give Teke a hand in the kitchen. Jon had played well, his team had won, they were all smiles and excitement. But the euphoria seeped away along with the fading of the chill blush on their cheeks.

"This is strange," Jana said, staring at the table set for five. "All alone. We're pariahs."

Teke had done her best to make the dining room look lively. She had fashioned large orange-and brown bows from streamers and hung them at strategic spots, had cinched the napkins with shiny ribbons, had sprinkled the tablecloth with gold sparkles. For a centerpiece she had turned a pumpkin into a turkey with the help of a gourd, flowers, and bright bits of fabric. She thought the effect quite nice. So she scolded, "That's silly. It'll be much better for Michael this way. Quieter."

"But Michael loves noise."

"Uh-huh, and if everyone was here, he'd want to be running around with the video cam This way there will be less excitement, less temptation, and less frustration."

"That's a rationalization," Leigh murmured, and turned back toward the kitchen. "The fact is that we can't eat with the Popes because Daddy doesn't

want to see Sam. That means Jana can't be with Zoe, and I can't be with Jon. It isn't fair."

Teke handed her a masher and the pot of boiled potatoes. "You're with Jon all the time. Where did you go last night, anyway?"

"There was a party."

"Where?"

"At a girl's. You don't know her."

Teke put mitts on her hands and lifted the turkey out of the oven. She left it on the counter while she set about un molding a fruit mold, and all the while she was wondering if she should badger. Her relationship with Leigh was iffy enough not to ask for trouble. Still, she said gently, "You got in late. I was worried."

"You knew Jon had to be in by one."

"I know that he can't drive later than that, but I thought for sure he'd want to make it an early night, what with the game today."

"He slept at the party."

"Oh," Teke said. "Must have been an exciting party." Then she had a less facetious thought. "He wasn't drinking, was he?"

"Jon doesn't drink."

Teke shot a look at Leigh, who was mashing potatoes with a vengeance. Returning to her own work, she ran a knife around the rim of the mold, put a plate over it, and was preparing to turn it when Jana came in.

"The candy bowls are filled. What else do you want me to do?"

"Take that dip dish, and go help your father cheer Michael up," Teke said. "He's feeling blue. Basketball tryouts begin on Monday. He wants to be there." She waited until Jana had gone before saying quietly, "I'm not an innocent, Leigh. I know what goes on at high school parties."

"Her parents were home."

"On Thanksgiving Eve, very probably, but that doesn't mean anything. Many parents buy the beer for the party themselves. They would rather the kids get drunk under their supervision, and that's one view, I suppose. I have trouble with it."

Leigh kept mashing.

"I wouldn't be asking you about Jon if it weren't for the can of Amstel Light that I found in your wastebasket last week."

"I used it on my hair."

"If he drinks at a party, he cannot drive. Either you drive home, or it you can't, you call us."

"We're not drinking."

"Good," Teke said, and turned the mold. "That makes me feel better."

"But I want birth control."

The gelatin mold hit the plate with a thunk, in perfect time with Teke's stomach, which had been none too steady to start with that day. She could have used a shot of Grady--a thought that she quickly pushed from mind. As an alternative source of support, she set down the plate and leaned against the counter.

"Well, didn't you think I'd ever want to do it?" Leigh challenged.

"I thought you would wait!"

"I've been waiting for years. I love Jon, and don't say we're just seventeen, because we're turning eighteen this spring. Some kids get married at eighteen. Some kids have babies at eighteen." Teke knew that all too well. She had been one of the few girls from Gullen to make it through high school, so many others had dropped out to have babies. She would have had a baby herself if Grady hadn't been so determined to wait. Then, she had objected to his reasoning, but she was the first one

to use it now. She wanted her girls to get a college degree. She wanted them to have fun. Babies were big responsibilities. They had a way of limiting choices.

"I want more for you," she told Leigh.

"Then let me get birth control."

"Or you'll go ahead anyway? Oh, Leigh," Teke begged, "can't you use a little restraint?"

"Like you did with Sam?"

Teke's breath caught in the back of her throat.

Leigh resumed mashing, though more slowly now. "Anyway, it's too late to be asking for restraint. We've already done it." Already done it. Already done it. Teke put a hand to her chest to quash a rising panic. They've already done it, Annie! she cried. She should have known, what with all the time Leigh spent with Jon, and it wasn't tragic, she reasoned as she tried to get a grip on herself. They loved each other. They would get married one day. Teke hadn't been a virgin at seventeen herself.

But Leigh was her child, and lovemaking was womanly stuff. That made Leigh a woman, the first of her daughters to become so. It was an emotional idea, one that took some getting used to.

"Well?" Leigh asked, looking anxious.

Teke put an arm around her shoulder and held her tightly for a minute. Her throat was knotted. She ran through the arguments in Leigh's favor again until she was sure she was under control. With surprising calm she said, "I'll call the doctor next week."

Leigh seemed wary. "You will?"

Teke nodded.

"Are you trying to win me back?"

"No," Teke said, though being rational and agreeable didn't hurt that cause. "I'm trying to do what

makes sense. If you and Jon have made love once, you'll do it again. I want you protected."

Leigh let out a small sigh. "I almost went to Annie. I thought you'd be furious."

"I'm glad you didn't go to Annie. I'm your mother." Perhaps blindly feeling her way through certain things, but her mother nonetheless. "I can handle it. And I'm not an ogre."

"You've been strange lately."

"Kou've been strange," Teke countered. She scooped a lock of blond hair back from Leigh's face. "You're angry at me for what I did with Sam, but we all make mistakes, Leigh."

"What I did with Jon wasn't a mistake. It was the best thing in the world. The best."

Teke put her forehead to Leigh's shoulder. More than anything she wanted Leigh to know the excitement with Jon that she had known with Grady, because if Leigh and Jon had that, on top of all else they had going for them as a couple, they would be happy in life. She raised her head. "I want the very best for you and Jon, and I didn't mean to imply that what you did was wrong, maybe just premature. But arguing about it is ridiculous, because it's done. Just like what I did with Sam. It's done. Now we have to deal with the consequences." It was a very adult, very Annie approach, Teke thought.

"In your case, that means getting birth control."

"Do you have to tell Dad?"

It struck Teke, along with a spark of emancipation, that she didn't. Her responsibility to J.D. had changed with his move from the house. "I don't have to tell anyone."

"He'll yell and scream and say that Jon's just like Sam, but Jon isn't."

"Yes, he is," Teke argued. "Whether you'll admit it or not, Sam is a wonderful man, a great husband, and a top-notch father. I like to think Jon will be the same. I think your father would agree. But he has a lot on his mind, so we won't tempt fate by telling him about something he can't change. But promise me," she said with a sudden, horrifying thought, "that you and Jon won't do anything else until you've seen the doctor. Promise me that, Leigh? I won't be able to keep your secret if you get pregnant."

Jana burst through the door. "They're hungry. Dad wants to know when we're eating." She looked from one face to the other. "What's going on here?"

Teke left Leigh's side. She put the mitts back on, removed hot hors d'oeuvres from the oven, and slipped them onto a serving tray. "Let them work on these. Tell them we'll be eating in ten minutes." She steered Jana back toward the door. "Leigh, add butter and milk to those, then put them in the oven to stay warm while you toss the salad. I'll tackle the turkey."

There was an art to turkey carving. Teke had perfected it over the years, to the point where she was able to get every last bit of meat from the carcass, arranging it beautifully on a platter as she went. This year the only thing that was missing was Annie, who normally stood watching in awe. She didn't miss the awe, just Annie.

But she had promised herself she wouldn't pine today, not over Annie, not over the way things used to be. She was determined to enjoy this meal with her most immediate family.

The odds were against her, it seemed. The first problem was the table. Teke had outdone herself. It held enough food--steaming bowls and platters, a tossed salad, a molded salad, a bread basket, jelled and whole-berry cranberry sauce, the last because J.D. preferred it, condiments of every imaginable

sort--to feed an army of Popewells, which made it all the more obvious that an army of Popewells wasn't there.

"Who's saying grace?" Jana asked.

"Sam always did it," Leigh said, "but Sam's not here." Michael looked at J.D. "You do it, Dad."

J.D. looked at Teke. "We can skip it."

But Teke, who had never been superstitious, had the sudden fear that if someone didn't say grace, they would all be damned forever. So, bowing her head, she said, "Dear Lord, it's been a rough year. You've given us the strength to make it this far. Please help us through the rest. We give thanks for love and forgiveness, and for this food. Amen." J.D. cleared his throat. "That was humble enough, I suppose."