Sleeping With the Enemy (27 page)

Her face buried in her hands, she nodded.

***

When he crept into the house, a little after midnight, Rose was asleep.  He puttered silently about the bedroom, undressing, hanging up his clothes, too worked up to sleep, torn between his reluctance to wake her and his need to talk about what had happened. 

Common sense prevailed.  For weeks now, Rose had pushed herself to the point where he was beginning to fear that it would interfere with her health, and that of their baby.  Between her job, the house, and the kids, Rose had spread herself far too thin.  But that was Rose, he thought as he crawled into bed beside her.  A human dynamo, always more concerned for other people’s welfare than she was for her own.  She needed her sleep, and what he had to tell her, although it was welling up inside him like a balloon about to burst, could wait until morning.

But in the morning, she was up ahead of him, already in the shower before he was even out of bed.  By the time he emerged from his own shower, she had packed lunches for all three kids and was running frantically around the kitchen, her half-eaten English muffin deserted on the sideboard next to a cup of coffee that was growing colder by the minute.  She tripped over the dog and cussed.  “Get out of here, you fat fool,” she said, “before I boot your hairy ass to the sausage factory, where they’ll turn you into dog chops.”

“Where are my sneakers?” Luke demanded.  He began digging through the pile of shoes near the door, scattering footwear like a bloodhound digging for the bone he knew he’d buried somewhere nearby.  “I left them right here last night.”

Devon reached past her brother for her coat and scarf.  “They’re probably somewhere in that vile room of yours, moron.”

“Oh, shut up, Devon.  You just think you’re so smart.”

“Keep it up,” Rose said as she sprinted past, “and you’ll both be at the sausage factory right along with the dog.”

Luke located the missing sneakers and plopped into a chair to yank them on.  “You’re supposed to untie them first, doofus,” Devon said.

“Hey, Dad,” Mikey shouted as he thundered down the stairs.  “I need five bucks for gas, or I won’t make it to school.”

For a moment, Jesse stood there, lost in the chaos that was his family.  Rose slipped on her coat, pulled her hair free from the collar.  “I have to go,” she said.  “They’re releasing Torey first thing this morning, and I have to swing by the office first.  I want to get on the road early.  Don’t look for me before suppertime.”

She snatched up the remains of her English muffin, grimaced at the cup of cold coffee, and blew out the door.

So much for talking.

He tried to get through to Henry before his first class, but the principal was behind closed doors, and the dragon lady refused him access.  The summons came during his fifth-period class, right before lunch.  Hazel knocked on his classroom door and said, in her gravelly voice, “Principal wants to see you, Mr.  Lindstrom.”

He paused at the blackboard, chalk in hand.  “Right now?”

“Right now.”

This couldn’t possibly be good news.  “Okay, guys,” he said to the class, “start working on the questions I’ve already got up on the board.  We’ll do the rest when I get back.” He set down the chalk, brushed chalk dust from his hand, and followed his royal escort to the front office. 

Henry Lamoreau’s face was grim.  “Shut the door,” he said, “and sit down.”

With a leaden feeling in his gut, he did what Henry said.  “I’m not going to like this,” he said, “am I?”

“I had a call this morning from Jolene Hunter’s mother.  They’re filing a complaint with the school board against you.  For molesting their daughter.”

His mouth fell open.  “For
what
?”

Henry loosened his tie and ran a hand through his thinning hair.  Cleared his throat.  “Jolene says that you and she, ah—” Henry closed his eyes, clearly uncomfortable.  “—had a relationship.  An inappropriate one.”

“She’s lying.”

“She’s seventeen years old.  You’re her teacher.  I’m not sure you understand how serious an accusation this is.”

He stood up, leaned on both fists over the desk.  “Henry,” he said, “it didn’t happen.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What the hell do you mean, it doesn’t matter? Of course it matters.  The goddamn girl is lying! I’ve never laid a hand on her!”

“That’s not what the mother says.  She claims you brought Jolene home last night—
late
last night—and the girl was almost hysterical when she came into the house because you’d just ended the relationship.  The mother’s ready to press charges.”

“There is no relationship.  Damn it, Henry, you know me better than that.”

“Were you with her last night?”

“Yes! Jesus Christ.” He sat back down heavily, ran trembling hands through his hair.  “There was a live performance of
Romeo and Juliet
last night in Portland.  My senior honors students are reading it next week, and I handed out flyers before Christmas vacation, hoping I could entice some of the kids into going to see the play.  Jolene Hunter and Tessa Dawson asked if they could ride with us, and Rose and I didn’t see any problem with it.  But Rose had an emergency at work, and she couldn’t go.  When I went to pick up the girls, I found out that Tessa wasn’t coming either.  She’d had a fight with her mother, and Mrs.  Dawson had grounded her.  I’d already promised Jolene a ride, I couldn’t very well back out at that point.  I would have looked like a fool.  So we went alone.  It was completely innocent.  Ask Rose.  Ask Tessa, for Christ’s sake!”

“Why would the girl come up with a story like this?”

Jesse swallowed hard.  “Apparently she has a crush on me.  She’s been sending me notes.  Unsigned.  I didn’t know who they were from.  Last night, on the way home—”  He paused, tried to still the hammering of his heart.  “She made a pass at me.  I turned her down.  It wasn’t a pretty scene.  But I never thought she’d pull anything like this.”

Henry sighed, a long, drawn-out hissing that sounded remarkably like a death knell.  “Jesse,” he said solemnly, “I’ve known you for a long time.  You’re not the kind of man who preys on young girls.  I wish I could just forget this whole thing and pretend it never happened.  But I can’t.  My hands are tied.”

He gripped the arms of his chair.  “I’m going to talk to her parents.”

“I wouldn’t advise that.” Henry loosened his tie again.  “I want you to understand that what I’m about to do, I’m not doing by choice.  It kills me to have to do it.  But I’m obligated, by law, to report an accusation like this to the police, and to DHS.”

“For Christ’s sake, Henry!”

“And I’m placing you on suspension.  Effective immediately.”

He felt like he’d had a brick wall dropped on top of him.  His ears were buzzing, and his stomach roiled with nausea.  “As in don’t come to work tomorrow?”

Henry sighed.  “As in don’t go back to the classroom.  Hazel has already gathered up your personal belongings.”

This couldn’t be happening to him.  “What the hell am I supposed to do now?” he said.

“If I were you,” Henry said, “I’d get a damn good lawyer.”

chapter fifteen

The sky was rosy with dusk when she pulled into the driveway.  Across the meadow, a thin gray cloud spiraled from Everett Laliberte’s cinder block chimney.  When she got out of the car, she could smell the seductive aroma of wood smoke carried on the sharp, still air.  Rose paused for a moment to fill her lungs with the perfume of it.  Above her head, a pair of mallard ducks passed, wings flapping frantically in their characteristic rush, and she smiled at the fanciful notion that they were rushing to be home in time for supper.  Just as she’d done. 

For the first time in her life, Boston had been a place she couldn’t wait to escape from.  The once familiar downtown office towers, the congestion, the aggressive drivers, had seemed foreign, somehow threatening.  She wasn’t sure when home had become this drafty, rambling house situated at the edge of forest, but she suspected it had less to do with the house than with the man who waited inside for her.  It had been so long since Rose had experienced happiness, she wasn’t sure she would recognize it if it bit her.  But this deep contentment, so buoyant it threatened to burst, came very close to the real thing.

Even her mother had noticed her uncharacteristic behavior.  As Rose toyed with the lunch that Mary had insisted on serving her when she’d dropped in unexpectedly, her mother had eyed her levelly and said, “What’s got into you, girl? You’re as antsy as a rooster at a hen party.”

She’d glanced up, surprised, then dropped her fork with a clatter as she realized that this wasn’t where she wanted to be.  She wiped her mouth with her napkin and said, “Sorry, Mom.  I have to go.  But thanks for the lunch.  It was delicious.”

Her mother gaped at her in astonishment as Rose nearly knocked over her chair in her haste to escape.  Mary’s voice followed her out the door.  “How the devil would you know? You never ate any of it!”

Now, Rose closed the car door and picked her way carefully across the icy ground.  Jesse had sprinkled rock salt this morning before he left for work, but by nightfall, the melted snow had congealed back into a hard pack of ice.  When she opened the kitchen door, the warmth rushed into her face.  She closed the door behind her, pulled off her knit hat and scarf, and shrugged off her coat.  “Jesse?” she shouted.  “I’m home.”

Somewhere in the innards of the house, a television droned.  She hung up the coat, flipped on the kitchen light and wandered toward the dining room.  “Jesse?”

She found him in the den, sitting on the couch, staring out the French doors at the snowy meadow.  The last vestiges of day reflected pink in its smooth, shiny crust.  “Good God,” she said.  “You’ll go blind, sitting in the dark like this.”

She switched on a lamp as he turned away from the window, and she saw the misery on his face.   Her heartbeat kicked up a notch.  “What’s wrong?” she said sharply.  “Is it one of the kids?”

“The kids are fine.  Everyone’s fine.  But I need to talk to you.  Sit down.” He patted the couch beside him.  Frightened by the gravity of his expression, she sat.  Without preamble, he said, “Henry suspended me today.”

Rose gasped.  “What? Why?”

He took a deep breath.  “Jolene Hunter told her parents that I’ve been having an affair with her.”

The numbness was instantaneous.  If anybody had asked her thirty seconds ago, she would have said that it was impossible for blood to turn to ice.  It was nothing more than an expression.  But she would have been wrong, for she was experiencing it now, right in her own body.  She found her tongue, wet her lips.  “No,” she whispered, and closed her eyes.  “Oh, God, no.” This was not happening.  This couldn’t be happening.  She’d paid enough for the sins of her youth.  They couldn’t come back to haunt her.  Not now, not when she’d finally found what she’d spent thirty-six years looking for.

“Rose,” he said, taking her face in his hands and forcing her to look at him.  “Nothing happened.  Do you understand? It’s all a lie.  I don’t know why she said it, but it’s not true.  You have to believe me.”

All of a sudden, she couldn’t bear to have his hands on her.  She yanked away from him, stood on legs that were weak and trembling.  Even in the gloom of twilight, she could see the hurt her withdrawal had caused him.  “What happened?” she asked.

“Last night, coming back from the play, Jolene made a pass at me.  I turned her down.  It was terrible, and embarrassing for both of us.  I guess this is her idea of retaliation.”

She didn’t know what to do, what to say.  Her brain had frozen along with the rest of her, so she just stood there in front of him, like a cigar store wooden Indian, and waited for him to continue.

“She’s been sending me love notes.  She never signed her name.  I thought they were from Amanda Ashley.  Amanda’s always mooning around me.  I never suspected Jolene.  How the hell am I supposed to know what goes on in the mind of a teenage girl?”

There was no reason why he should.  But she did.  She knew what it was like to want somebody that way, to be certain that he wanted you the same way.  To build elaborate fantasies around the lies he told, to believe that it would be just the two of you, forever.  “I thought—” she said, her heart hammering in her chest.  “I thought that Tessa went with you.”

“Tessa’s grounded,” he said grimly.  “We went alone.  And I’m an idiot.  A complete and utter fool.  I wasn’t born yesterday.  I know better than to be alone like that with a teenage girl.  I was too worried about looking like a fool if I backed out.  Instead, I ended up looking like a pedophile.”

And he’d been alone because she’d been with Torey Spaulding.  Because once again, she’d put her work ahead of her marriage.  “And you have no witnesses.”

“No,” he said quietly.  “It’s my word against hers.”

“I think,” she said carefully, “that you need a lawyer.”

“I’ve already called Paula Fournier.  She’s coming over in a bit.  I wanted time to talk to you first.”

She wrapped her arms around herself and turned away from him.  Walked to the French doors and stared out into the deepening twilight.  “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady and failing wretchedly.  “But I don’t think I can do this.”

“Christ, Rose.”  Hurt rang in his voice.  “Don’t quit on me now.”

She wrapped her arms tighter around herself.  “It has nothing to do with you.”

“Jesus,” he said bitterly, “that ex-husband of yours must have really done a number on you.”

Because it was easier than telling him the truth, she let him believe it.  There was no way she could tell him the truth.  Nobody knew, except Maeve, and even Maeve had found out by accident during one of their adolescent squabbles.  She left him there alone, fled up the stairs to her bedroom, and locked the door behind her.  Then, because she couldn’t face this alone, she called her sister.  Maeve would know what to do.  Maeve always knew what to do.

When her sister answered the phone, she closed her eyes.  “Maeve?” she said, then stopped because her voice was trembling so hard she could barely speak.