One Good Turn (12 page)

“What resources? Many of them were released from mental institutions. Many of them were evicted from their homes due to gentrification.”

“A mere function of the market,” he contended. “If they’re able-bodied, they can get a job that will cover the cost of housing elsewhere.”

“Sure, or they could go to law school,” Jenny observed, her smile remaining steadfastly earnest. “A mother doesn’t need a law degree to know if her baby is hungry. But what happens if you train her as a lawyer? When her baby starts crying she might start searching the literature for precedents.”

James looked at Luke. “A feisty little one, isn’t she,” he muttered.

Luke scowled at his father’s condescending attitude. He considered defending Jenny, then decided not to. To defend her would be, in its own way, equally condescending. Besides, she seemed to be doing all right without his help.

James fingered one of the menus the waiter had left on the table, but his eyes shuttled back and forth between Luke and Jenny. “Luke tells me you want to be a teacher,” he said.

“That’s right,” Jenny confirmed, still smiling.

Luke wanted to bask in the warmth of that smile, in her decency and goodness and her high-minded convictions. But he couldn’t shake the understanding that his father was setting her up somehow, tossing her into the air like a clay pigeon so he could shoot her down for the sport of it.

“You like dealing with children, I take it.”

“I’d make a pretty rotten teacher if I didn’t,” she replied with a laugh.

“Well, I’m sure your passionate arguments will prove quite effective with the primary school set, Jenny. Young children lack the wit and experience to poke holes in your theories. You might find yourself more equally matched in that environment.” With that, he lifted his menu and occupied himself with its listings.

Jenny sat motionless in her chair, obviously stunned. Luke knew his father too well to be stunned; he himself had been cut down to size many times by the man. “Dad,” he said quietly. “That was rude.”

His father eyed him over the top of his menu. “Oh, was it?” he asked disingenuously. “I thought Jenny and I were just having a little philosophical disagreement. I certainly don’t think it’s rude that she’s impugning our profession.”

“
Your
profession,” Luke erupted. “Yours, Dad, not mine.”

“It’s only a matter of time—”

“No, it’s
not
a matter of time.” Luke felt as if the sky was opening above him, as if the dense clouds of fear and anxiety and wanting had suddenly parted, letting the hot, bright sunlight through. He could not ransom his father’s love at the cost of his future. He could not be the number one son at the cost of his soul. What he wanted—his father’s unconditional love—was beyond his reach. Nothing he could do would ever change that fact. “I won’t be going to law school, Dad,” he announced, no longer willing to pretend he could win his father’s affection by sacrificing his own happiness. “Not next year, not ever. I will not go.”

His father labored mightily to keep his face devoid of emotion, but Luke could see the hardening in his eyes, the tensing of his jaw as he regarded his son. “This is not open to discussion, Lucas.”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Luke agreed. Already his declaration was having a salutary effect on him. The last clouds were drifting away. He wanted to stand tall, lift his head and breathe in the fresh sun-scented air. “I will not go.”

His father opened his mouth and then shut it. He glowered at Jenny for a minute, then scrutinized Luke and nodded, as if fitting the pieces together. “Your head has been turned by a pretty coed,” he muttered.

“My eyes have been opened by a wise woman,” Luke countered, looking at Jenny.

She seemed distraught. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “This isn’t an argument I should be a part of.”

“Oh, but you
are
a part of it, aren’t you,” James accused in his lustrous baritone. “You’ve seduced my son, and now he thinks teaching is the highest aspiration in the world.”

“Dad—”

“Teaching!” Ignoring Luke, James favored Jenny with a withering look. “Heaven only knows what reality you’re living in, missy, but it isn’t Luke’s. You have no right to interfere in his life, no right to plant the seeds of discontent in him. He met you a few weeks ago, am I correct? And in those few weeks he’s suddenly started to question his destiny. Forgive me for sensing a cause-and-effect relationship here.”

Jenny clutched the arms of her chair but refused to quail before Luke’s father. “Mr. Benning, I never—”

“My son’s smitten with you, and although I wouldn’t have taken you for his type I won’t deny that you’re an appealing girl. However, there’s no reason to assume you have his interests at heart. I do. I’m his father. I know what’s best for him. You want to be a teacher, you want to play with finger paints for nine months a year and extort an exorbitant salary from the taxpayers? Be my guest. I would not be so presumptuous as to tell you that’s the wrong profession for you. In turn, I would urge you to keep your opinions of Luke’s chosen profession to yourself.”

“It’s not my chosen profession,” Luke interjected.

“Mr. Benning, I’ve never done what you’re accusing me of doing,” Jenny overrode him, her voice trembling slightly. “Luke is my friend and I care about him. I would never tell him what to do.”

“Jenny,” Luke silenced her, covering her hand with his. Her knuckles felt icy against the strong warmth of his palm. It pained him to see her so upset just when he was feeling better than he had in years. He gave her a long, meaningful look, then addressed his father. “Jenny has never told me what to do,” he said. “All she’s ever done was to listen to me—which is more than I can say for you.”

“I will not have you talking back to me—”

“She’s listened and she’s reassured me I wasn’t crazy. She’s given me more in these past few weeks than I’ve gotten in a lifetime with you.”

“What?” Luke’s father snapped. “What has she given you, besides perhaps a few cheap thrills in bed?” James was usually irreproachably courteous, but right now he was fighting too hard for his son’s soul to bother with courtesy. “For God’s sake, Luke, she’s just a girlfriend, a summer fling. How on earth can you take seriously all her bullshit about lawyers? Where’s your perspective?”

“I’ve only just found it,” Luke answered, tightening his hold on Jenny. “And I’m not about to abandon it. Come on, Jenny, let’s get out of here. I seem to have lost my appetite.” He rose to his feet.

Jenny hesitated for a moment before letting him help her out of her chair. She gazed miserably at Luke’s father, who remained in his seat, thunderstruck. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Benning—”

Luke wanted to tell her to save her breath. She owed his father no apology; quite the contrary, he ought to be begging her forgiveness. But Luke wouldn’t stifle her. He understood that she was apologizing not for her opinions, not for her influence over Luke, but for having inadvertently spoiled the dinner party. She hadn’t realized that expressing a sentiment contrary to James Benning’s was tantamount to a declaration of war, and that when James Benning went to war he honored no protocol, no Geneva Convention—nothing but victory at any cost.

And if Luke had explained all this to her beforehand? She probably would have spoken her mind anyway. That was the way Jenny was.

Not wishing to offer his father the opportunity to fire another salvo, Luke stalked through the dining room with Jenny. He continued through the foyer and out the door at such a rapid clip she had to run to keep up with him. Not until they were half a block down M Street did he break stride.

He took a long breath, let it out slowly, and turned to look at Jenny. She was weeping.

“Oh, Jenny—I’m sorry,” he whispered, drawing her close and circling his arms around her. She’d fought so valiantly inside the restaurant; it never occurred to Luke that she’d fall apart the minute the battle ended.

She nestled into his chest, shivering against him. “I didn’t know...” She sniffled and began again. “I didn’t know he had so much anger in him.”

“Anger? He’s got plenty of anger for anyone who dares to cross him.”

“No, his anger is much bigger than that,” she argued. “He’s such a bitter man, so discontent. It’s really sad, Luke. I feel so bad for him.”

“Bad for
him
?” Luke let out a hoot. “Hey, come on—he insulted you! He called you a summer fling!”

“Even worse, he called me a coed,” she muttered, lifting her head and peering up at Luke, a crooked smile breaking across her lips as she blinked away her tears. “I hate that expression. And missy—that’s another one.”

“He has a way with words sometimes.”

“I do feel sorry for him,” she said, her smile waning. “He must be very troubled, to drive both his sons away from him.”

Luke wanted to assert that whatever trouble James was suffering was self-inflicted. He wanted to encourage Jenny to save her compassion for those who deserved it.

But that was part of her beauty, of course: she had compassion for everyone, even the most loathsome, offensive human beings. Her heart was big enough to embrace Luke’s father.

“I love you, Jenny,” Luke murmured, touching his lips briefly to hers.

“I love you, too.”

He stroked his thumbs gently across her tear-stained cheeks, wiping the lingering dampness away. His heart ached from all the love he felt for her. He wanted only to stand here with her, ignoring the pedestrians swarming past them on the busy boulevard, ignoring the traffic and the noise. He wanted just to hold her and revel in their love.

But he couldn’t. “I’d better take you home,” he said reluctantly. “Then I’ll have to go back and deal with my father.”

“Now?” she asked. “Maybe you ought to let him cool off for a while.”

“How long? He’s spending the night at the duplex. I’m going to have to face him, sooner or later.”

“Later,” Jenny said. “Not tonight.” Her eyes blazed into his with certainty; her arms closed snugly around his waist. “Tonight you’ll stay with me.”

“MARRY ME,”
said Luke.

Staring up into his warm honey-brown eyes, Jenny was sorely tempted to say yes. Nothing, nothing in her life had ever been as good as this. And considering that her life had, by and large, been filled to bursting with good things, that was saying a lot.

He had a beautiful body, long and lean and sinewy. His back was smooth. Even now, luxuriating in the tranquil aftermath of their lovemaking, she couldn’t stop running her hands over its supple contours, stroking down his spine to his waist and back up again to the bony ridge of his shoulders. His chest was smooth, too, his his taut belly, his hips. He had let her touch him everywhere. He’d invited her boldness and trust, and in spite of her relative inexperience she’d accepted the invitation.

He’d touched her, too—not just her body but her soul. Simply looking at him now, basking in the strength of his smile and savoring the weight of his body on top of hers, sent echoes of pleasure through her flesh.

He had propped himself up on his elbows so he could view her face. She felt the hard surface of his abdomen against her belly, the delicious pressure of his hips against hers. “How about it, Jenny?” he asked. “Should we get married?” His smile remained, but his voice had a certain gravity to it.

Afraid to take him too seriously, she said, “If we did, your father and I would probably set a new world record for awful in-law relationships.”

Luke chuckled. “My mother would like you. Elliott would, too, if he ever got to meet you.”

“We could go to Sitka and visit him,” she suggested. “We could sail through the Panama Canal and then up to Alaska on our honeymoon.”

“If that’s the kind of honeymoon you want, you’d better marry a rich lawyer.”

She pretended to mull over his advice for a moment, then joined his laughter. “Forget it. We’ll meet Elliott halfway. Where would that put us? Someplace in Idaho, maybe? I’ve always had my heart set on an Idaho honeymoon.”

“Idaho it is.” He sealed their agreement with a kiss, one which began playfully but quickly intensified until their tongues were dueling and her hands were clinging to his shoulders, until she was twisting restlessly beneath him and he was hard again, moving against her. Shuddering, he pulled back and sucked in a ragged breath. “I want you,” he groaned.

“I want you, too,” she murmured, sliding one hand up into his hair and urging his face back to hers for another kiss.

He resisted. “I’ve got to go raid Sybil’s stash,” he said, easing out of her embrace and rising from the bed. When they’d arrived at Jenny’s apartment, Sybil had immediately comprehended the situation and evacuated the room, taking her pillow, her nightgown and a few toiletries with her and, on her way out, reminding Jenny that she was welcome to dip into the top dresser drawer should the need arise.

“I like Sybil,” Luke said now as he returned to the bed, carrying the box. At Jenny’s questioning look, he added, “I’ll buy her a new supply tomorrow.”

Jenny laughed. Luke brought passion and tenderness to sex, but he also brought humor to it—which was particularly amazing after the fury of his argument with his father earlier that evening. Or maybe it wasn’t amazing. Maybe his confrontation with his father was directly responsible for his humor now, for his passion. After all the tension, this was his release. It was his escape.

She didn’t doubt that he’d been speaking truthfully when he’d said he loved her. But she couldn’t ignore the possibility that what was going on here in her bed had as much to do with Luke’s father and his future as it had to do with Jenny, that the ecstasy he found with her was somehow magnified by the anguish that had preceded it.

Luke took her mouth with his again, and she let his kiss sweep all conscious thought from her mind. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sliding motion of his tongue against hers and on the play of his fingertips against her cheek, her throat, her breast. She sighed as his thumb found her nipple and rubbed it, as his hand ventured lower, below her ribs, below her waist, down into the soft curls of hair between her legs. Her hand mimicked his, gliding down his body, past his much broader rib cage, the well-toned muscles of his abdomen and lower. She closed her fingers around him and stroked. At his gasp, she smiled, partly in delight at the power she exerted over him and partly in astonishment at her own powerlessness as he moved his fingers against her.