Within Reach (44 page)

“Michael?”

“Dani! Sweetheart, it’s good to hear from you!”

“Same here.” The sound of his voice was like a balm. “I wanted to call sooner but I was worried about the phones being tapped. I wanted privacy.”

“How’re you doin’?”

“I’m surviving.”

“I saw it all on television at noon—the arraignment and the press conference. You looked beautiful.”

“I was dying.”

“It didn’t show. Blake handled himself well, I thought. Very dignified, very professional.”

“That’s his way. He’s furious inside, but no one would ever know it.”

“How’s he behaving toward you?”

“Not much differently than he always did. He did thank me for coming, but we had an audience at that particular point. He’s big on appearances. Not that I mind if he ignores me most of the time. I don’t want him touching me.”

“Did he try?”

“Only for the sake of the press. He held my hand whenever there were cameras around. He kissed me once, for the cameras, but I doubt he’ll try that often.”

“Have you said anything to him about…”

Her stomach twisted, then settled. “No. I confronted him about everything but that. It’s my ace in the hole, Michael. When I use it, it’ll carry weight.”

“What did he say about the rest?”

“He denied that he knew what was really in the shipment. He’s blaming the whole thing on Harlan. He also denied that he had anything to do with Harlan’s murder.”

“You asked him
that
?”

She smiled sadly. “I’ve gotten bold, I guess. I wanted him to know that even though I’m here, I’m far from a blind supporter. I do believe him as far as Harlan’s murder goes, though. I’m sure he had no part in that.”

“I agree, but I still don’t like the idea of your living with him in that condominium.”

“I told him I wouldn’t. I’m going to look for a house in the suburbs for us to rent. I want a yard with some trees and fresh air, plenty of bedrooms and a live-in housekeeper as a chaperone. Until then, I’m staying at my parents’ place. That was where I slept last night. My mother was wonderful. We talked for a long time. I mean, she was really
there
.”

“I’m glad about that. If you get nothing else out of this ordeal, at least you’ll cement your relationship with her. It’s long overdue.”

“I think you’re right.…Michael?” She grew misty-eyed and her voice wavered. “I miss you so much. I think about you all the time.”

“Me, too. I haven’t known what to do with myself.”

“Have you done anything with the stuff we gathered this summer?”

“No. Every time I look at it, I think of you and my mind starts to wander. I managed to go over the galleys for my book, though. They’ve been sitting here a while. My editor was getting pissed.”

“What about your class?” He had been appointed to teach another fall semester course at the School of Government. “Do you have much to prepare differently from last year?”

“I’ll have to update things, but there’s nothing major now that I have the basic curriculum set.… How about you? Will you go up to Boston to do your radio show, or will you be staying in Washington the whole time?”

“I have to call Arthur. I’d like to continue to do the show. Being here the rest of the time is going to be bad enough. During the trial I’ll have to skip the show anyway. It wouldn’t be seemly.” She drawled the word with blatant sarcasm and rolled her eyes, but in so doing she caught sight of the cab. “I’d better go. My cabbie looks like he’s getting impatient.”

“Your cabbie?”

“I’m at a pay phone on the way to my parents. I didn’t want Blake to drive me, for obvious reasons. I’ll give you a call in a few days?”

“I’ll be waiting. I love you, Danica.”

She smiled, but her voice was shaking again. “I love you, too. You’re my strength, do you know that? Hold the fort for me, Michael.”

“I will.”

He threw her a kiss, which she answered with two, then she quietly replaced the receiver on its hook and ran back to her cab.

Several days later Danica found the house she wanted. It was in Chevy Chase and was far enough from the capital to provide the respite she needed yet close enough so that Blake would have no trouble driving in to see his lawyers. Not that time was of the essence, since both she and Blake had more of it on their hands than ever before, but she wanted to be considerate, since she had been the one to demand the house.

It was furnished and in move-in condition, with five bedrooms plus a suite for the help, and its yard was large, well guarded from the public by thick stands of trees. If the cost of the rental was exorbitant, Danica reasoned that it was money well spent. She chose for herself the bedroom farthest from Blake’s, hired the woman she wanted, and made arrangements for Marcus to deliver the Audi.

Two weeks after Blake’s arraignment, she flew back to Boston to pick up more things from the town house. While she was there, she made several calls, the last one of which was to Michael.

“I lost the radio show.”

“
What
?”

“I met with Arthur today. He explained that my presence would detract from that of a guest.”

“That’s
absurd
!”

“I’m furious. Arthur claimed that the live call-ins we’d get would be asking questions of
me
and that he wanted to protect me from that. I argued with him, but his mind was made up.”

“Screw him, then. There’ll be other opportunities for you, and when this is all over, you’ll laugh in his face.”

She smiled in appreciation of his championing. “I also talked with James. He was angry, too, which made me feel a little better. You wouldn’t believe it, Michael. I’ve called several friends to see how things were going—you know, at the Institute and the hospital—and they were cool to say the least. Some friends.”

Michael gritted his teeth. “A little experience often upsets a lot of theory.”

“Excuse me?”

“I read that the other morning on one of your tea bags.”

She grinned. “You’re drinking tea now?”

“It settles my stomach.”

She was instantly alarmed. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

“Only when I think of you down there, which is most of the time.”

“Oh, Michael.”

“I wish I were in Boston right now.” A bulb lit. “Hey, I could be there in an hour.”

“You’d kill yourself on I-95 making time like that, and anyway,” she mused ruefully, “I have to get to the airport, and…”

He anticipated her next words and spoke with feigned mockery. “And it will only be harder if we see each other. I know, I know. But it’s so hard right now I sometimes think I’ll die.”

“Don’t you dare. I need to know you’re there.”

“I think that’s what keeps me going. Will you call again soon?”

“As soon as I can. Take care, Michael.”

“You, too, sweetheart.”

Talking with Michael was her salvation. She called him every few days—Blake, for reasons of his own, had the phones checked regularly for bugs, which eased her worry—and she lived the times between with the memory of Michael’s words, his gentle tone, and the knowledge of his love. They were the only things that kept
her
going when her days settled into a routine of marking time.

The press no longer badgered; more immediate news had taken precedence. Danica wasn’t a fool to think that the media wouldn’t be out in force come time of the trial, but she was grateful for the temporary break.

She spent most of her time at the house in the first-floor garden room whose floor-to-ceiling windows let in whatever sunlight September had to offer. Blake had come to accept that this was her room and left her alone there to read, to knit—which she had never done before, but which desperation inspired— and to think.

She spent several days a week with her mother lunching, shopping, sometimes just talking. Eleanor made herself accessible, realizing that Danica had few friends in Washington and that those she might have had would avoid her now.

“You look tired, darling,” she commented one afternoon as they strolled through the Smithsonian. “Maybe I shouldn’t have suggested we come here. There’s so much to see that it can be overwhelming.”

Danica laughed softly. “I’m the one who should be worrying about you, but you seem to be holding up fine.”

“I am fine, knock on wood. My leg gives me trouble from time to time, but it’s nothing. Aren’t you sleeping well?”

“Oh, I sleep, but I still feel tired. I think its the tedium of the waiting. Sitting around with nothing to do but to think about where I am and why, where I
want
to be and why, where I’ll be
six months
from now and why. I look down and find my knuckles white and realize that I’ve been clenching my fists without knowing it. Between tension and boredom, I sometimes think I’ll lose my mind.”

Eleanor hooked her elbow through her daughter’s. “You won’t. You’re strong. And you’re doing the right thing. I know it’s difficult for you, missing Michael the way you do.”

Danica smiled and offered a soft “Thank you for understanding. It’s a help to know that I can tell you things.”

“Just don’t tell me
too
much.” Eleanor was only half joking. “Keeping things from your father is something new for me. I’m not sure I like it.”

“I’m sorry you’re in the middle. I didn’t want that.”

“You didn’t want to be facing a criminal trial with Blake, either, darling. Life doesn’t always work out the way we want.”

Danica gave a soft grunt of agreement. “Life is what happens when you’re making other plans.” When her mother sent her a quizzical look, she explained, “The tea sage,” and Eleanor nodded.

“How’s Blake taking all this?”

“He’s tense. Now that the hullabaloo has died down, he’s focusing on the trial and what might, just might, happen to him if something goes wrong and he’s convicted. The thought of prison, even of a minimum security one, doesn’t thrill him.”

“Can you blame him?”

“No. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. He’s a proud man. I think what he fears most is the humiliation.”

“Does he discuss it with you?”

“We rarely talk. But then, we never did.”

“He’s not rude to you, is he?”

“Oh, no. I don’t think he’d dare. He knows that I do have an alternative to staying here in Washington with him.”

Eleanor nodded. The one thing she and Danica hadn’t talked about was the future. She assumed Danica would be leaving Blake once the trial was over, but she didn’t want to think of that eventuality. “How is Thelma working out?”

“Just fine. She’s a wonderful cook.”

“I wasn’t sure. You look like you’ve lost weight.”

“I haven’t been very hungry. My stomach is in knots most of the time. Blake’s sitting like a stone across the table doesn’t help.”

“It’s a trying time. For both of you.”

“You can say that again.” She sighed. “Well, I am getting a beautiful sweater out of the deal. Do you remember that pretty cotton yarn I bought last week?”

“The nubby pink stuff? It was delicious.”

Danica smiled. “It’s working up deliciously, too, and God knows, I have enough time to work on it. For all I know, by the time this trial arrives, I’ll have an entire wardrobe worth of sweaters.”

“Is the trial still set for November?”

“The lawyers have requested that it be put off to December, ostensibly to give them more preparation time. Personally, I think it’s more of a tactical move. I think they’re hoping to cash in on the feeling of seasonal goodwill. It might just soften the jury.”

“How long do they think the trial will last?”

Danica shrugged. “It could be a week. It could be a month.” As she figured it, even allowing for the worst, she would be back in Maine sometime in January.

“Will you do one for me?”

“Do what?”

“Knit me a sweater. I’d like to wear something you’ve made.”

Danica squeezed her arm. “Sure. I’ll do yours next.” And after that she would do the one she had begun to picture, one designed for warmth against the cold, Down East sea air. She fantasized knitting a matching one for Michael, but knew that she couldn’t be so crude as to do that in front of Blake. Maybe for Gena…or Cilla…or even Rusty…

By the first week in October Danica began to suspect that something was wrong. Well, not
wrong
, but different. And hopeful. Very hopeful.

With the knowledge that Michael’s class met on Wednesdays in the back of her mind, she flew into Boston for an early afternoon doctor’s appointment, then, nearly bursting with pride and pleasure and excitement, took a cab into Cambridge.

Michael was wrapping up the day’s discussion with his class when she slipped into the back of the room. He paused midsentence to stare. She wore oversized dark glasses and had pulled her sandy hair into a knot under a chic fedora, but she hadn’t fooled him. Not for a minute.

He cleared his throat and began to speak again, only to stammer dumbly and end up asking the class what he had been saying. Several of his students glanced toward the back of the room and were grinning when they faced forward again. Michael failed to see their humor.

The woman he had dreamed about for the past six weeks was thirty feet away and he still had to finish the session. Pushing away from the chair he’d been straddling, he fumbled through the notes on the table behind him, but his eyes couldn’t seem to focus any more than his mind could. In the end, he simply deferred to the syllabus he had given the students at their first meeting and dismissed the class.

He stood still for several minutes until the room had cleared, then stalked to the back of the room, pinned Danica to the wall and gave her the hardest, longest, most melting kiss she had ever received. Then, having summarily dispensed with her hat, he buried his face against her hair, wrapped her in his arms and squeezed until she squealed for mercy.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would have called in sick, canceled my class, done anything if I’d known you were in town.”

“I just came in this morning.” She was beaming, eyes aglow. “Michael, it’s so exciting…I tried to wait, really I did…I walked around the Square for what had to be hours but I couldn’t get here fast enough. The man downstairs must think I’m deranged because I couldn’t concentrate on the directions he gave me to find this room. I made him repeat himself three times…I’m so excited!” She clapped her hands to her lips, but her smile was as wide as ever.