Entwined - SF5 (29 page)

"I can’t tell you that, Ryan. I don’t know who would have done it. I can only swear to you that it was not me."

When Ryan shuffled listlessly into the library, Jamie immediately knew that she had not received the satisfaction she had sought from her conversation. They spent the next 15 minutes talking over what Sister had related, finally agreeing that someone was lying, but not knowing how to determine who that someone was. "How much do you think lie detector tests for everyone would cost?" Ryan asked, only partially kidding.

"I have no idea, but I’ll gladly pay for them," Jamie offered, willing to go to any expense to ease her partner’s mind.

"Shit!" Ryan stood and kicked at the heavy study table. "Maybe I don’t really want to know. Somebody that I trusted screwed me over, and then continues to lie about it six years later. Maybe I should just put it away and try to act like it didn’t happen."

Jamie gazed up at her for a moment, seeing the roiling emotions reflected in her deep blue eyes. "Can you do that, Honey? I know you’d like to have a cordial relationship with Sara and her mother and Father Pender. Can you do that if you know that one of them might have betrayed you?"

Ryan flopped down into the wooden chair, dropping her head onto her arms. "I don’t know. Maybe I can…" She trailed off, knowing that it would be a difficult task, but not knowing what else to do.

Jamie rubbed her back for a moment, then got to her feet when Ryan did. They linked hands and started to leave the building when Jamie was struck by a thought. "This is a school, right?" she asked, her eyes flickering with an idea.

"Uhh…right."

"What schools do best is make notes. There might be a note of some kind in your record that would mention the talk with Father Pender, or there might be something saying that Sister told the school counselor, or someone! Come on," Jamie dragged her out through the doors, towards the principal’s office. "We’ve got one more stone to overturn."

15 minutes later, the two young women were poring over the record of Ryan’s years at the Convent of the Sacred Heart. As Jamie suspected, the vast majority of notes in the file had to do with scholastic honors, requests from various college coaches to attend a game to watch Ryan play, and other routine paperwork. Pulling out a score sheet from a standardized I.Q. test, Jamie read the score at the top right-hand corner and flipped it to her partner, "That’s just sick," she said with a disgusted shake of her head.

"I.Q. tests are not very representative of people’s intelligence, Jamie," she insisted, not bothering to look at the number.

"Uh-huh, tell that to somebody who’s gullible, Babe," she breezily scoffed. She continued to whip through the large file until suddenly her hands stilled on a neatly typed 8 1/2 x 11 sheet of paper. Without a word, she handed it to her partner, and watched as Ryan’s eyes darted across the words.

"Well, fuck me," she mumbled, getting to her feet to knock once again on the door to Sister Mary Magdalene’s office.

This time Ryan was only inside for five minutes, but in that short time Jamie nearly wore a path in the carpet, pacing back and forth outside the closed door. When the door finally opened, Jamie was surprised to see an elderly woman holding Ryan in a fond hug. "Goodbye, Sister," she heard her partner say. "Thanks for helping me clear this all up."

"Goodbye, Ryan," the older woman said, in a clear, full voice that belied her age. "I wasn’t much help, but I’m glad that you feel better. Keep in touch, won’t you?"

"I’ll try to, Sister," she said, stepping into the outer office and grabbing Jamie in an emotion-filled hug. The door closed softly behind them, and it was all Jamie could do to keep her feet on the floor against the power of Ryan’s embrace.

"Good news?" she gasped, nearly all of her breath squeezed from her lungs.

"The best!" Ryan’s smile was enormous, and Jamie couldn’t help but mirror it, even though she didn’t know why they were smiling. "Nobody that I trusted screwed me, Babe!"

"Huh? How can that be, Honey? That note…"

"Yes, that note was about the talk Sister had with Father Pender. She wanted a note in the file just for her own records."

"But it was typed…"

"Yes, yes!" Ryan cried. "That’s who did it!"

She was still so excited that she could hardly talk, but Jamie had to know what was going on, so she directed Ryan to a bench in the long, empty hallway and instructed, "Breathe, Baby. Calm down a little bit and tell me exactly what happened."

Ryan closed her eyes and took some deep, calming breaths, finally, nodding to show she was calm. "Okay. Sister took notes, and she put them in my file. Because they were confidential, she didn’t want them typed. But her secretary took the file from her desk, and typed them up. That’s why the original was clipped to the back. There was a little sticky note that said, "For your review," attached to the letter, but Sister obviously never saw it. The file got put away, so she didn’t know that her secretary had seen the note!"

Ryan still looked so happy that her face must have hurt, but Jamie didn’t see how this solved anything. "I still don’t get it, Babe. Are you saying that the secretary was the one who told? Are you sure?"

Ryan’s arms crossed over her chest, and she nodded solemnly. "I’m positive. Not much of a deduction when the secretary was none other than Tammy Anderson’s mother!"

"Was she one of the girls on your team?"

Ryan nodded, a smirk on her face. "She was the all-star bitch, who was also a relatively poor back-up goalie." Her dark eyebrows twitched and the light went on for Jamie.

"Her mother told her, and she told the other girls so that she could force you off the team??"

A confident nod was Ryan’s reply. "I’d bet the farm on it."

"But that still doesn’t make sense, Honey," Jamie said, even though she hated to dampen Ryan’s ebullient mood.

"What doesn’t?"

"Why would your teammates believe her? It just seems hard to fathom that they would ignore what they knew about you."

"No it doesn’t," Ryan said confidently. "Tammy was actually more popular with the girls who were left on the team at that point. They liked me as a player, but my friends had all graduated the year before. I didn’t have any buddies left by that time. For all of her faults, Tammy was really the leader of that clique. It’s not hard at all for me to imagine that the other players would believe her–especially if she told them that her mom had learned the info from Sister Mary Magdalene."

"What does Sister think?" Jamie asked, assuming that she knew the parties involved quite well.

"She thinks it makes perfect sense," Ryan advised. "I got the impression she isn’t a big fan of young Ms. Anderson’s. I think that’s the closest Sister Mary Magdalene has come to cussing in a long while. She was just about purple with anger."

"I’m really glad that you think you’ve found out who was behind this," Jamie said. "I’m just not looking forward to confronting two more people!"

Ryan shook her head and got to her feet, extending her hand to lift Jamie to hers. "Nope. We are finished, Babe. I’ve got all the answers I need."

"Huh? But I thought…"

"Jamie," she explained. "I only hurt this bad because I thought someone I loved or trusted had screwed me over. The fact that some prissy little snot tried to ruin my life doesn’t bother me much! In fact, if she was here right now, I’d kiss her!"

Jamie beamed a smile up at her partner, tremendously relieved that her angst had been resolved. "I’m here," she said softly, batting her eyes at her partner.

"That you are," Ryan grinned, and proceeded to kiss her senseless.

By the time they returned to Berkeley, Ryan’s mood was lighter than it had been in weeks, and Jamie was grateful to see the lines of tension completely disappear from her face. That night they went to bed early once again, with Ryan falling asleep almost immediately, a sweet, innocent smile on her lovely features.

The next morning Ryan wandered through the maze of offices in the under-construction Haas Arena, stepping over drywall materials and ignoring the not-so-subtle leers she received from a few of the workmen. She was planning on making a few changes to her fall class schedule to better accommodate her volleyball commitments, and she thought it wise to check with Coach Placer before she did anything hasty.

As she turned down the hallway towards the volleyball offices, she nearly collided with Coach Greene, who was balancing a large cup of coffee and a small brown bag in one hand, her briefcase under the same arm, and trying to insert one of the keys from a massive ring into her door. "Need a hand…or two?" Ryan asked, and whisked the keys from her hand.

"I’m happy to accept a spare hand, Ryan," she smiled, "although I’d prefer your feet."

"Still recruiting, huh?" Ryan observed, feeling the key turn roughly in the new lock.

"You’re not the kind of player a coach gets over very quickly," she said wistfully. "It’s kinda like having your heart broken." Her eyes were playful, and Ryan considered flashing a smile and taking off, but something inside urged her to stay for a minute and try to glean another bit of information from the woman.

"Do you have a few minutes to chat?" Ryan asked, cocking her head a bit.

"You bet," the older woman said quickly. "Especially if you want to talk about how much you hate volleyball!"

Ryan gave a slight smirk and followed the coach into her inner office, waiting patiently while she got herself organized. "So what’s up, Ryan?" she asked while taking a sip of coffee, her eyes fluttering closed in pleasure at the first taste.

"I uh…don’t know if you know this or not, but I’ve had a very hard time letting go of all of the things that went on when I was a senior in high school."

Coach Greene cocked her head, and looked at Ryan quizzically. "No, I didn’t know that, Ryan. I assumed that you had put that behind you. You certainly seem happy…"

"Oh, I am happy, Coach. I’ve just felt that I had some unfinished business. The good news is that I’ve learned a number of things in the past couple of weeks that have been very positive for me. Some people that I thought had betrayed me really hadn’t, and it has been a tremendous weight off my mind." She shifted nervously in her chair and got to the point. "There’s just one little thing that’s still bothering me."

Coach Greene paused mid-sip and regarded Ryan carefully. "What’s that?"

"I still don’t understand why you gave up so easily. I was under the impression that Sara or Coach Ratzinger warned you to steer clear of me. But they both assure me that they didn’t do that. If that’s true, it makes even less sense that you would dump me so quickly."

The older woman nodded her head, looking thoughtful. "Would you mind if I got out your recruiting folder? My memory is pretty hazy that far back."

"No, not at all." Ryan said. I’d appreciate it."

Five minutes later, the coach walked back into her office, holding the open folder in both hands. As she sat down, she began to thumb through the notes and memos that were neatly affixed to the manila folder. She paged through the notes, finally finding what she was looking for. Dropping her head into her hands, she carefully read the document, pursing her lips while she nodded her head. "I think I have it clear in my mind now, Ryan. Do you have some particular question you’d like me to answer?"

Ryan shifted in her seat, staring thoughtfully at the coach. "I thought I already asked my question. If Sara and Coach Ratzinger are telling the truth, you dropped me just because I didn’t play during my senior year…and I have a hard time believing that."

Pushing her chair back and grasping a knee with both hands, Coach Greene stretched in her chair for a few seconds, obviously trying to decide how much to reveal. She shook her head and confirmed, "No, it was more than that, Ryan. I um…I don’t feel comfortable revealing who told me this, but someone did tell me about the trouble between you and Sara."

The look on Ryan’s face was painful to watch, and the coach hastened to assure her. "It wasn’t Coach Ratzinger or Sara, Ryan. Rest assured that neither of them spoke against you."

"Sister Mary Magdalene?" Ryan asked, still looking heartbroken.

"No, Ryan, it wasn’t anyone in a position of authority. To tell you the complete truth, it was one of your teammates. I don’t want to reveal who it was, but it was someone who obviously had a bone to pick with you."

"I have a very good suspicion of who that was," Ryan muttered. But something about the story still didn’t sit right with her. "It just doesn’t make sense that you dropped me because of unfounded gossip, Coach. You’re just not that easily influenced."

"No, no, I’m not." She got up and stood, facing the small window that looked out upon an expanse of dirt that had yet to be landscaped. "It was a number of factors, Ryan. When you quit the team, I was astounded, and I tried my best to get the truth out of Coach Ratzinger. The fact that she offered such a flimsy reason for your departure really had me scratching my head. I went to Sara, since I knew you two were very close, but she acted like I wanted her to give up state secrets," she laughed quietly. "As you know, Sara was usually quite forthcoming, and her refusal to talk made me even more suspicious."

She turned and sat on the edge of her credenza, giving Ryan a long look. "I knew you were a phenomenal player, Ryan, and I knew that your potential was even greater. But you had never been focused on soccer. It came down to making a choice between you and Mindy Lau from Vallejo."

Ryan nodded, recalling the woman that she had played against in an all-star game. "She was good," she said quietly.

"Yes…she was good. She was a starter for me for three years, and I was very happy with her, to tell you the truth. The bottom line, Ryan, is that I had to choose between someone who was dedicated to the sport, had fantastic grades, got along great with her teammates, and was highly recommended by her school administration, and you. I thought you had more potential–as a matter of fact, I’m sure you did. But something about your situation just didn’t smell right to me, and I didn’t want to go looking for trouble." Looking down at Ryan she cocked her head and said, "I’m sure it feels like I screwed you over, Ryan, but that was certainly not my intent. I just made the decision that I thought I could live with."

"It would have been nice if you’d told me that," Ryan said quietly, still hurt by the complete snub she had been given.

The coach shrugged her shoulders and said, "It was a tough situation, Ryan. Would you have felt better if I told you I was going with someone else because I had a hunch there was something up with you?"

Ryan shook her head and admitted, "No, I guess not. It just hurt to be dumped. I always thought it was because you were afraid to have me on the team because I was gay."

Coach Greene laughed softly. "Nothing could be further from the truth, Ryan. I don’t have any negative feelings about your orientation. Heck," she said, a smile covering her face, "I’d be gay with you if you’d play for me this year!"

Ryan joined in her laugh and observed, "I think my spouse and your husband would take a dim view of that."

"Oh, my husband’s a pretty forgiving guy," she teased. "When you’re married to a college level coach, you learn that they’ll sell their souls for a recruit. "

Ryan stood and extended her hand to the coach, clasping it in a firm shake. "My partner would not be so forgiving," she smiled. "Besides, I think volleyball is more my style at this point in my life. I had a very serious head injury a year ago, and it just wouldn’t be wise to go looking for trouble."

"Ryan, I’ve seen you play volleyball," the older woman laughed, getting up to slink an arm around her shoulders. "If everyone played like you did, they’d require helmets and face shields."

Shrugging her broad shoulders slightly, Ryan conceded, "I uh…get focused."

"That’s an understatement," Coach Greene smiled. When they reached the door to the outer office she placed both of her hands on Ryan’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. "I wish you all the best, Ryan. Rich Placer’s gain is my loss, but I hope you enjoy every minute of your season."

"Thanks Coach," she said, blushing a little under the scrutiny. "I’d like to come watch some of your matches this season."

"I’ll definitely come see some of yours, Ryan. Full-contact volleyball sounds like my kind of sport!"

On the way back to the O’Flaherty home late that afternoon, they exited the freeway and headed towards the financial district. As they inched through the heavy weekend-bound traffic, Ryan once again expressed her reluctance to make the trip. "I just don’t know if it’s wise to take me with to visit your trust officer," she insisted. "It’s obvious that your dad isn’t wild about my involvement in your finances."

"He doesn’t dislike you, Baby. He’s just…well, he’s just acting like my father. He’s very, very protective of me."

"Well, I can’t fault him for that," she grinned as she reached over and squeezed her thigh.

Ryan was dressed in some nice navy cotton pants and a crisp white oxford-cloth shirt with three-quarter-length sleeves rolled up just a bit. The shirt hung out, as was the style, but she still looked neat and businesslike. As they drove along in the Boxster, Ryan cast a quick appreciative glance at her partner. Jamie wore a light cotton sweater set in an attractive mint green and slim fitting chinos that served to accentuate her muscular legs. "You look really nice today, Honey," she said with a big smile. "I like you in sweaters."

"Thanks," Jamie replied with a matching grin. "You look pretty swell yourself, Hot Stuff."

"Good enough to meet a stuffy banker?"

Jamie snorted derisively as she considered the implications of that statement. "The question is, are the bankers good enough to meet you?"

H. Tucker Gray was just what you would expect, both from his last name and from his position as a vice president of a large corporate trust department. His skin was so pale that it actually did seem like it was tinted a fine dove gray, and his personality was similarly fiery. "Hello, Jamie," he said with a voice that was surprisingly sonorous for his diminutive size.

Ryan gazed at the little man and perversely counted the number of chalk stripes it took to circle his tiny leg. Only five stripes showed on the front, and she mused that it would take a dozen to get around the same space on her own substantially larger leg. Jamie pulled her from her observations by saying, "Tuck, this is my partner, Ryan O’Flaherty."

He perfunctorily extended his porcelain-like hand, and Ryan wondered if the baby smooth skin had ever done a day of manual labor. "Very pleased to make your acquaintance," he said cordially. Turning to Jamie, he inquired in his nasal Eastern accent, "Are you partners in some endeavor that I should be aware of?"

Both women had to stifle a laugh, but Jamie rallied and said, "We’re life partners, Tuck." His blank expression forced her to elaborate. "She’s my lover."

It wasn’t possible for him to grow any paler, so his skin did the only thing it could–it blushed deeply at this astounding news. "I…I…I…I had no idea," he muttered as he groped blindly for his huge leather chair and flopped down into it rather inelegantly. "I thought you were engaged," he whined, thinking that he must have this young woman confused with one of the many similarly situated beneficiaries for whom he was responsible.

"I was, Tuck," she assured him, "but I broke up with my fiancé a few months ago…mainly because I fell in love with Ryan." It wasn’t the technical truth, but it was the emotional truth, even though she had not previously acknowledged it that way in public.

"I see," he muttered, folding his tiny hands neatly on his desk blotter. "I’m sure that you’ll be very happy together," he managed with a voice that belied his sincerity. Turning to Jamie again he started over, "So, you came here today for…?"

"Two things," she said, businesslike as usual. "First, I can’t find a copy of my trust agreement, so I’d like another. Secondly, I want to see if it’s possible to give Ryan the authority to make withdrawals from my trust in case of emergency."

It was a tie for whose eyes bugged out more at the second part of this statement, but Jamie would have put her money on Ryan. "J…J…Jamie!" her lover finally cried. "I don’t need any such thing!"

"I want to make sure you could handle things if I became incapacitated or was unavailable," she explained soothingly.

But Tuck immediately quashed any such talk. "That’s not possible, Jamie," he said firmly. "You are the beneficiary–only you. If you want to have a power-of-attorney drawn up, that is a different matter altogether, and I would think that your father would be able to help you with that."

"Okay," she said easily. "I’m just asking a simple question, Tuck. It’s difficult for same-sex partners to protect each other legally. I’m just trying to ascertain the best way to handle my affairs."

"Of course," he said stiffly. "I’m happy to answer any questions you have." He looked anything but happy, but Jamie was not going to let him deter her.

"I have some general questions about the trust. Do you have time to answer them?"

"Certainly," he said. "That’s why I’m here."

"As you can imagine, Tuck, this trust will have a big effect on both of our lives. Ryan’s not very familiar with trusts, so I’d like it if you could just give her a general overview of the terms."