Random Hearts (26 page)

When they came back to the car, McCarthy looked at them
with questioning eyes. None of my business, he had told them earlier. But he
had made it his business, Edward thought, for reasons unknown except to
himself.

They came back to the car with arms around each other's
waists. Through the engorging fullness of his happiness, Edward could still
observe the detective's sense of surprise and curiosity. He considered the
man's dilemma with wry amusement and resolved to toss him some tiny crumb of
knowledge. But when he searched himself, his knowledge was confused, his
understanding murky. Instead of the burst of sunlight, the explosion of
understanding that is supposed to accompany an epiphany, he felt numb, drained
of insight. What had changed inside Vivien was as womanly and, therefore, as
mysterious as ever. His love, need, attraction for Vivien had been quite clear
and uncomplicated for some time now. Memories of Lily were as thin as dust, and
strong gusts were swiftly blowing even the tiniest particles from his mind and
memory.

He decided not to exhaust himself with any further
explorations. It was enough to believe that he had captured some lost part of
himself, however the process was labeled.

"We must forgive them," she had whispered,
illustrating the full depth of a woman's journey to obliterate scorn. Was she
able now to trust his love? His loyalty? His commitment? He would spend his
lifetime proving that she could.

They slid into the rear seat, embracing, touching, silently
conveying their urgent relevancy to each other. Looking up, he saw McCarthy's
eyes observing them in the rearview mirror. Offering a broad smile, McCarthy's
gaze swept back to the road.

"Please stop," Vivien said suddenly.
"There." She was pointing at an outside telephone booth in a filling
station. Without comment, McCarthy pulled in front of it while Vivien fished in
her handbag for change.

"Here," McCarthy said, leaning over and offering
a handful of change.

She took it, looked up into McCarthy's eyes, and thanked
him.

"I have to call my parents and speak to Ben," she
said as she slid out of the car. She looked back at them briefly, her eyes
glistening, her smile fuller than he had ever seen it. A serene, happy face,
Edward thought as she entered the booth and began to punch the numbers.

"Satisfied?" McCarthy's voice was calm, his
inquiry gentle.

Edward nodded.

"They're all sisters, aren't they?" McCarthy
said.

"In a way."

"Never understand how they hook us, reel us in. Hook
hurts going in, hurts going out. Doesn't it?"

"Maybe someone should ask the fish."

"All right, I'm asking."

Edward felt the brief bite at wisdom, a nibble at the edge
of insight.

"People fall in love," Edward said. "Can't
be helped. Like the fish. Right place. Right time. Right bait. Makes them
crazy. Don't try to figure it out."

"Love," McCarthy sighed. "They probably
invented it. Think it excuses everything."

"Doesn't it?"

"Maybe so." He rubbed his chin in contemplation.
"They may know something we don't. It
was
Eve who ate the
apple." They laughed, and were still laughing when Vivien came back to the
car.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing," Edward replied and gave McCarthy a
knowing wink.

Vivien looked at each of them in turn, and seemed
perplexed, but shrugged it off and said, "Ben's fine. I said I'd be there
tomorrow night. First I have to pick up Hamster. I told them all to be prepared
for some surprises." She turned toward him and took both his hands in
hers. "Okay?"

"Never gonna let you outa my sight," Edward sang
softly.

She looked back at him mischievously, then moved her lips
to his ear.

"I hope he's exactly like you," she said.

"Who?"

"Our baby."

His heart lurched, and he turned to face her.

"Mother Nature has spoken. She could be fooling, but I
don't think so."

"I'll take her word for it," Edward said.
"She usually knows what she's doing." Vivien moved into his embrace.

"Especially now."

"Especially now," he agreed.