Heather Graham (7 page)

“Oh, Kim, Kim, I’m sorry!” Keith pleaded. “I know, I know all that. It’s just that you and I—I love you, Kim!”

“I love you,” she replied because it was true and because it was the automatic reply to such a statement. She didn’t really blame Keith. Vietnam was a forgotten war, something buried under the carpet except for those who were immediately involved.
She
had even buried it under the carpet over the last years—something that had happened and was best forgotten.

“You really can’t still be his wife,” Keith said, and there was a note of pleading in his words.

“I, uh, I don’t know,” Kim murmured.

“And you really shouldn’t be here with him. I mean, where was he?”

“What?”

“Where was he all this time?”

“A prisoner.”

“Damn, a decade…but that’s my point, Kim. He should be in a psychiatric hospital. He could be homicidal; guys who spent only a couple of months in the jungle came out maniacs.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Kim blurted. Hadn’t she herself been thinking it was amazing he seemed sane? “Brian would never hurt me or his sons.”

“You’re still moving in with me.”

“I can’t anymore, not just like that. Keith, my sons just got their father back! They would hate me if I tried to drag them away. And I was his wife if I’m not now. If I’d been nothing more than an acquaintance, I would still owe him something. Years of his life were taken, Keith. I owe him, we owe him, for what—”

“Oh, Kim! You can’t mean to tell me you’re going to throw us over out of a feeling of debt!”

“Keith, please!” Kim beseeched him. She was leaning against the counter, biting her lip; Suddenly she had to touch him. There was so much pain in his voice.

She started to walk toward him and then stopped. She returned to the counter, her back to him. “Keith, I do love you. You know that. I don’t mean to throw anything over, but I have to take things slowly now, a step at a time. I can’t go running upstairs and tell Brian that gee, I’m really glad he’s alive, but he’s inconveniencing my life!”

“I didn’t mean that,” Keith said huskily. “But I’m in love with you, and you’re in love with me. He’s got to understand that time went by. It wasn’t as if he went on a fishing trip and you skipped out on a Saturday night! You were a widow, Kim. You might have remarried five years ago.”

“I know,” she said, turning back to him with a soft, sad little smile. “But I didn’t. And I don’t know where that leaves me. But if Brian is right, Keith, I do have a husband, a living husband. And I can’t just walk out on him now—”

“And I can’t just let you fall into bed with another man!”

“I—we haven’t discussed anything yet. I’m sure Brian doesn’t expect—”

“Don’t count on it.”

“Keith, if you love me, you have to trust me.”

“Oh, dear Lord!” Keith drained his drink, pounded the glass down on the kitchen table, and held his head between clenched fists, closing his eyes. “This is—this is—”

“Keith,” Kim said, and she was pleading and being unfair. But how could she be anything else? Life in general wasn’t fair. And she really couldn’t offer anything to Brian. “Keith, I have to have some time! Jake and Josh are enraptured by their father. And Brian deserves to have his sons, to get to know them, to get to live with them. And I guess this is still his house, and I might still be his wife—”

“You can’t still be in love with him! It’s been years. No one can stay in love with a ghost—”

“Oh, Keith, I don’t know what I feel, only that I can’t desert him now. I have to give him some time. You have to give me some time! We haven’t had a chance to talk, I don’t know…” Her voice suddenly trailed away. She was utterly drained and exhausted. “I think you’d better go now. I promise I’ll call you first thing in the morning, as soon as Brian and I have had a chance to talk.”

He looked as if he were going to object for a moment, opening his mouth, then closing it. But apparently he was as confused as she was. “Shell-shocked” was the best description.

He shook his head as if he wanted to say more, then decided against it. He approached her, took her face between his hands, and kissed her lips lightly before staring searchingly into her eyes. “Call me in the morning,” he said hoarsely.

Kim felt sick to her stomach as she heard the front door slam. She turned stiffly to set the coffeepot on “warm,” then wandered out to the living room. A Rolling Stones number was blaring from Jake’s tape recorder, but above the music she could hear laughter coming from the twins’ bedroom, and as if compelled by the sound, she started slowly up the stairway.

From the Erik Estrada and Valerie Bertinelli posters on the wall to the bunk beds with their western motifs, it was a boy’s room. Kim’s eyes surveyed the room as she hovered in the doorway. Boxes were still piled around the room. The boys hadn’t been terribly carried away with packing because they hadn’t wanted to destroy the motif of their living quarters until the last minute. Surely Brian had suspected something when he had entered their room.

A little quiver seemed to catch at her heart. He was stretched out on the floor, his back to her. Josh was leaning over his shoulders, and Jacob was sitting Indian style by his elbows, cheering on his efforts with the joystick as Brian played Pac-Man, apparently getting the hang very quickly of chewing up power pills and gobbling away ghost monsters.

She had the touching view of the three blond heads, Brian’s a shade darker than his sons’. The boys were as tall as she, and she was a respectable five feet seven, but next to Brian, they looked like little boys again, smaller clones of the man.

Surely they had inherited something from her, she thought. Sure. Jake’s ears. He had little, almost nonexistent lobes. What was wrong with her? It wasn’t Brian who was crazy. She was.

He turned suddenly, and she wondered how he could have possibly known she was standing in the doorway. The smile he had been wearing faded, and he handed the joystick to Jake.

“Coffee ready?” he asked her, rising with an agile movement.

Kim nodded. It seemed foolish to try to speak over the music.

It didn’t bother Josh at all to shout over the music, “Hey, Mom, can Jake and I have hot chocolate?”

“No,” she said sharply, too sharply. “It’s late already. You can brush your teeth and go to bed.”

“Ahh, Mom!”
They must practice together,
Kim thought,
they were so in unison with their indignant eyes and pouting mouths.

“I said it’s late.”

“Hey, guys,” Brian said, tousling two thatches of yellow-white hair. “I promise you, I’m not going to disappear. We’ll talk again in the morning.”

“Tomorrow is Monday,” Kim said. “The boys have camp, but—” She caught three pairs of blue eyes on her and stopped herself. “I’m sure missing a day won’t matter.”

Take continued to stare directly at her. “Dad will be here in the morning, won’t he?” he demanded.

It was barely a question and much more of a statement. No, not even a statement, a demand….And how could she blame him? But he had put her in a terrible position.

No, it wasn’t Jake putting her in any position. Brian had already announced that the house was his.

She didn’t look at Brian but kept her eyes trained on her son. “Sure,” she said casually. “He just promised you he wouldn’t disappear again, didn’t he?”

She stepped out of the room and leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. She wasn’t doing well at all with this, she thought nervously. For a moment she considered going back into the room to give the boys their good night kiss. But not tonight. They wouldn’t notice.

She was acquiring a racking headache.
Please make them turn that music down, Brian,
she silently pleaded.

As if on cue to her silent command, the music stopped. She pushed herself away from the wall and hurried down the staircase. In the kitchen she poured herself a cup of coffee and burned her lips as she tried to drink it too quickly. She kept staring at the coffee. Minutes passed while she just stood there numbly. Then she felt Brian’s presence as he walked into the room.

She snapped back into rapid mobility. “Would you like a cup or a mug? One sugar, a little cream, right?” She pulled out a saucer, and it clattered on the counter.

“Just black, please.”

She poured the coffee and handed him the cup with her fingers trembling so badly she almost scalded them both. She stepped away from him, bracing herself against the counter as if she needed a defense.

“Brian,” she blurted out, “are we—am I—are we still legally married?”

He lifted a brow at her with a strange twist of dry amusement. “You haven’t divorced me recently, have you?”

“Divorced you? Of course not.”

“Well, then I’ve proved I’m alive and well and functioning, so you’re definitely not a widow. Yes, we’re still married.” He turned with a small, quick smile and started walking toward the kitchen table. He turned, and leaning his hips against the table, he idly crossed one foot over the other as he faced her casually. “I hear you were planning on moving in with your lover tomorrow.”

Her coffee cup crashed to the floor. She stared at it stupidly, but he made no attempt to rush over and help her pick up. She finally grabbed a handful of paper towels and sopped up the broken china and dark liquid, grateful of the opportunity to do something. He was so casual, so quiet. Yet for all his offhand silence, he had made the word “lover” sound incredibly contemptible.

She poured herself another cup of coffee, knowing he watched her with those probing eyes. She turned to face him again. She wanted to be as cool as he was, but she felt as if something were constricting in her throat. “Brian,” she managed to say softly, “do you have any idea just how long—”

“Yes,” he interrupted flatly. “Somewhere in a pithole of a jungle camp is a cypress log with more than two thousand notches in it. I know exactly how long it has been.”

“Brian, they told me you were dead. They sent me a coffin.”

“I know that, Kim. Maybe I didn’t phrase my words properly. Are you still planning on moving in with Mr. Norman tomorrow?”

“Well, no, I—”

“Good. Because I would have had to stop you.”

Damn, he had certainly learned some good commando tactics! And he had always had the ability to flare her temper.
Keep cool, keep cool,
she reminded herself.
He just came home….

“Brian, I don’t think you understand.”

“I understand perfectly. You’ve been sleeping with this Keith for quite some time. Are you planning on divorcing me?”

“No, Brian, of course not, not now.” Why did she suddenly feel defensive when she was guilty of nothing?

“Well, then, unless you do divorce me, you’re my wife. And I’m here. And very, very much alive, I assure you. I don’t know what you told your friend tonight, but I would appreciate it if you would let him know tomorrow that you won’t be seeing him again—unless you do file for divorce.”

The strangling sensation was back with her. She felt as if she were melting to the floor, but she wasn’t; she was just standing there, holding onto the counter for dear life. He was looking at her strangely, his blue eyes both sharp and elusive. “Brian,” she gasped out, “how do you know what you want? You don’t know me anymore.”

“Kim,” he said very quietly, placing his cup and saucer on the table, “you’re my wife. I always planned on getting home.” He shrugged. “I want my home; I want my family; I want my wife. But I can’t keep you in chains. If you want out of the marriage, go for it. But if you don’t, well, then you’ll have to act like my wife. I can’t change the past, although I wish I could. Foolish, but I guess every man wishes—or fantasizes—that his wife will be eternally loyal against all odds. That isn’t fair to you. I know it. Things weren’t exactly fair for any of us. But I do not want to be patronized, Kim. Don’t think you’re going to smile at me and welcome the vet back and then turn around and go to this other man. If you stay with me, you’re not going to cheat on me.”

He stared at her for a second longer, then untangled his long legs and started out of the kitchen while she was still fumbling for words.

“Brian!”

He stopped and turned back to her.

“Brian, this isn’t fair! We aren’t all superhuman, you know. You and I don’t know each other anymore. I don’t know what I’m feeling! I don’t know if we could make it together now, Brian; we’ve been through so many changes.”

“We can see, Kim.”

He started walking again.

“Brian!” she called again desperately.

He paused again, sighing with a touch of impatience as he lifted a brow.

“Where are you going?”

“To get my things out of the car.”

“But—but—” She was stuttering ridiculously. “Brian, I can’t, I—it has been too long. I mean, I can’t just—”

“Sleep with me?” he inquired politely. “Don’t worry, Kim. I wasn’t planning on dragging you into bed. I’m not certain I want you fresh from another man’s arms. Since the twins share a room, I assume the third bedroom is empty?”

She nodded. It wasn’t exactly empty; it was crammed with junk. But in back of the junk was a foldaway bed. He would recognize it, it had been a wedding present from one of his uncles.

“Fine. Don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself, as long as the sheets are still in the linen closet.”

“Yes, of course—”

“Good night, Kim.”

“Good night, Kim!” Her voice rose shrilly as she repeated his words.

He appeared somewhat startled and amused. “Yes, good night. I had a long flight in, I lost two hours, and it’s getting late.”

“So you’re going to bed—just like that.”

“No. I have a few things to bring in. Then I have to make up the bed, and then I’m getting in it.”

“But, Brian…” Her voice trailed away with frustrated amazement. She didn’t want to scream or rant or even to be difficult, but how could he behave so normally? “Brian,” she said quietly, starting over with what she fully intended to be a rational calm, “don’t you think we should talk? You’ve hardly said anything—”

“Kim,” he interrupted her patiently, “I’m not going to say anything. I do not want to talk about it. You know the basics. That’s all you’ll ever need to know.”