Promise Me A Rainbow (29 page)

“I don’t know. Nothing that anyone could see.”

“It just died for no reason?”

“I’m sure there is a reason. I just don’t know what it is.”

“It don’t make sense to me,” Cherry said. “Sasha
wanted
her baby.”

It didn’t make sense to Catherine, either, but she made no comment. She let them talk, fielding as best she could the questions for which there were no easy answers.

“Ms. Holben,” Abby said, “you don’t think it was the candy Sasha ate, do you?”

“No, I don’t think it was the candy. Sasha ate the good things she was supposed to eat. Her grandmother saw to that.”

“Yeah, and what good was it?” Maria said. “I knew it was all a bunch of crap.”

“Sasha is very young, Maria. It’s not easy having a baby when you’re that young.”

“It’s not easy having a baby, period,” she said sullenly. “If you want it, then that’s it. You let yourself want it—boom! It dies. Or welfare takes it.”

“That’s not true, Maria,” Cherry said. “You always saying crazy things.”

“Yeah, well, you ask Sasha if it ain’t true. You ask Sasha!”

“Sasha is still in the hospital,” Catherine said. “Mrs. Bauer and I are going by to see her after school. Any of you who want to come along are welcome to do so, with your parents’ permission.”

“Ms. Holben,” Beatrice said. “Is Sasha having a funeral for Treasure?”

How strange, Catherine thought. She hadn’t told them the baby was a girl, and yet they all seemed to take it for granted that it was.

“Yes. Her grandmother will let us know when. I assume it will be after they let Sasha come home.”

“Ms. Holben?” Cherry said. “We got to have class today? I don’t feel like having class.”

“Yes, we do. I want you to take the rest of the period to talk about Sasha and ask questions if you have them—and to call your parents about going to see her this afternoon. And then we’re going to work hard the rest of the day. It helps to keep busy.”

“Might help you,” Maria said under her breath.

“Right,” Catherine said to her. “I’m not going to be busy by myself.”

Catherine was as good as her word, keeping them working until lunchtime. They were subdued, but the morning wasn’t wasted, except that once again Catherine had a difficult time not thinking about Joe D’Amaro. She was going to have to talk to him as soon as possible. He’d been right—things were different in the cold light of day.

A fine mist of rain still fell, and they ate their lunch in the classroom with Beatrice’s radio for solace.

“Uh-oh, Ms. Holben,” Cherry said shortly after they’d started eating.

Catherine looked up in alarm, expecting that someone’s water had broken, or, at the very least, a grimace of pain. Sasha’s early labor had left her more than uneasy about the rest of them. “What?”

“He’s back,” she sang, cutting her eyes toward the door.

Catherine pursed her lips to respond to Cherry’s heavy-handed subtlety, but Joe was pacing in the hallway. She was surprised that he’d come here—almost as surprised as she’d been when he’d called the night before. She got up from her desk, fully aware, too, of how glad she was to see him. Her gladness only served to underline her need to make sure he understood how things were going to have to be with them.

I like him
, she reaffirmed as she walked toward him. She liked him; she liked the way he looked, scraggly though it might be. He wasn’t like Jonathan. She didn’t have to concern herself about being attracted to the same kind of man.

“Working hard, I see,” she said by way of greeting.

He smiled. “You know what’s a real kick in the you-know-where? Being all ready to start building—and it won’t quit raining. So how are you doing?”

“I’m doing fine,” she answered, not knowing why he was asking. Because of Sasha? Because they’d made love? She decided to ask. “Why?”

His eyes searched her face, lingering on her mouth, dropping to her breasts. It was very disconcerting. She knew exactly what he was thinking about—because so was she.

“I . . . thought you might have regrets,” he said.

“No. No regrets. Not about last night. Joe . . . ?”

His eyes met hers. “What, Catherine?”

“I . . . we have to talk.”

“I thought so,” he said, his voice resigned. “So talk.”

“I can’t here.”

“You have to if it’s important. I’m going to be at the building site, rain or not.”

She looked down at the floor for a moment, then back at him. “About last night . . .”

“You don’t have any regrets,” he reminded her. “Or weren’t you telling me the truth?”

“I meant what I said, Joe. I don’t have regrets. It’s just . . .” She glanced over her shoulder because she sensed some of the girls might be moving closer.

“Let’s walk,” he said, taking her by the arm. They walked slowly toward the front office. “Go on.”

“I want you to understand how I’m feeling.”

“Well, that sounds ominous.”

“Joe—”

“Go on, Catherine. If you’re going to tell me to take a hike, then do it.”

“I don’t want you to take a hike.”

He looked so relieved that she instinctively put her hand up to touch his cheek, stopping in mid-reach because she remembered where she was.

“Then what do you want?” he asked.

“I want you to understand that I’m just not ready for anything so . . .”

“So what?” he prompted. “Don’t leave me hanging here.”

She gave a short exhalation of breath. “Intimate,” she decided.

“Intimate. You mean you hated going to bed with me and you don’t want to do it again.”

“No,” she said with some alarm. That wasn’t what she meant at all—exactly.

“You mean you
liked
going to bed with me,” he amended.

“Yes,” she said, looking into his eyes.

He looked at her thoughtfully. “And you don’t want to do it again.”

“Yes.” She expected him to be angry.

He stopped walking and leaned against the wall. “Do you know how bad I want to touch you right this minute?”

“No,” she said, but she was lying. She did know. “Joe, I’m not ready for a serious relationship—”

“Serious meaning sexual.”

“Yes! I don’t know how to be . . .” She trailed off again because one of the secretaries had come into the hallway to stick something up on the bulletin board. Catherine watched her until she went back into the office.

“Go on,” Joe said. “You don’t know how to be what?”

“Casual.”

“Casual? What the hell does that mean,
casual
?”

“It means I’m not ready for anything serious,” she said again. “And you certainly aren’t, either. I don’t know how to do these no-strings-attached relationships where you hop into bed with somebody because you need sexual release.”

“Is that what we did?”

“Didn’t we?”

“No, we didn’t.
I
didn’t.”

She didn’t either, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him. They stood there in the hallway as the silence between them grew more awkward.

“Catherine—” he began, but she interrupted.

“Probably nothing would have happened if I hadn’t been so upset about Sasha. I don’t want to get hurt, Joe. I don’t even know if I’m over Jonathan, and you’re not over Lisa—”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Yes, it is. I’m just starting to put my life together. It’s just too complicated for us, without being—”

“Intimate,” he finished for her.

“Yes.”

“So how do we back up, Catherine? How do we pretend that we didn’t make love and that it wasn’t good between us?”

“Joe, I don’t know. But I know I can’t handle it. I can’t be just a bed partner and nothing else—no matter how good it is. I don’t even know if I
want
to be anything else. It’s all too new, and I’ll make you crazy worrying about you—you know how I am.”

“You butt into things that are none of your business,” he offered.

“Exactly. I don’t want to be hurt,” she said again.

“So you want me to take a hike.”

“No!”

“No? Catherine, you’re right. You
are
making me crazy. What do you want?”

She didn’t want to end their relationship, such as it was. She just wanted it modified. “Couldn’t we just do what you said? See if we have anything? And if either of us decides we don’t, then that’s it, and no hard feelings.”

He gave a slight smile. “And no s-e-x,” he whispered.

She sighed. “No.”

“How about kissing?”

“Joe, I’m being serious here!”

“I am, too. I have to know what I’m agreeing to. This is where I agree or I don’t, right? I mean, you’re giving me a graceful way out if I want it?”

“Yes.”

“So what about kissing?”

“Kissing is in,” she said curtly.

“I can’t kiss you and not—”

“Joe!”

He laughed. “Look, Catherine, you don’t get off that easy. If you want some kind of platonic relationship, then I guess there’s nothing I can’t do about it. It looks good on paper, but . . .”

“But what?” she said when he didn’t go on.

He gave her a long look, one she felt and one he knew she felt. “But I don’t think it’s going to work.” His face suddenly grew grave. “So what do you want me to do, think it over and let you know?”

She pressed her lips together. How angry was he? For once she couldn’t tell. Did he understand or didn’t he?

“Yes,” she said, her chin coming up a bit.

He gave a resigned sigh. “Then I’ll call you later.”

“I’m taking the class to see Sasha after school today,” she said, trying to keep her voice matter-of-fact. If by some chance he called this evening, she wanted him to know ahead of time that she might not be there.

His response was a curt nod of acknowledgement and “I’ll be seeing you around.” He took a few steps down the hall, then turned back to her. “You know what gets me? I
knew
this was going to happen. I knew you’d panic. I even understand why—and it still pisses me off.”

With that, he walked away, leaving her in the middle of the hallway.

She stood for a moment, watching him until he went out the end doors. He let both of them bang shut, and he didn’t look back.

“Well, kiddo,” Pat said at her elbow, “you sure know how to rain on a man’s parade.”

But he called.
He’d said he would, and he did. The conversation was neutral at best. He asked about Sasha and the rest of the girls. He talked about Fritz. Then he said good night.

Good night. Not good-bye. She had to keep reminding herself of that the rest of the week when he didn’t call again.

On Saturday she cleaned house, convinced that the graceful way out she’d given him, he’d taken. Shortly after noon she looked out the front windows. Joe was crossing the street below, carrying a big white bag from Burger King.