Sleeping With the Enemy (26 page)

She drove back to the office and phoned home.  “Hey, kemosabe,” she said when Luke answered.  “What’s shaking?”

“Nothing much.  Jesse headed out for Portland a while ago, and Devon’s making supper.”

“I have an emergency on my hands, but I’ll be home as soon as I can get there.”

She rummaged through the nuclear fallout on her desk until she found the list of emergency shelters.  Starting at the top, she began calling.  The list was hideously outdated.  Several phone numbers were no longer in service.  One administrator had moved on a year ago.  And every shelter she was able to reach was filled to capacity.  Darby Jones in Farmington said she might have an opening next week, but right now, she was already overbooked.  By the time Rose reached the bottom of the list, she was convinced that if hunting were the number-one sport in rural Maine, domestic violence must be number two.  There wasn’t a slot to be found anywhere.

She ran her fingers through her hair, rubbed her tired face, and lay her head down on
her
folded arms.  She had talked to the charge nurse before she left the hospital, and although Torey looked a fright, she was being released tomorrow.  She couldn’t go back to Bud Spaulding.  It would be roughly equivalent to putting a revolver to her head and pulling the trigger.  In desperation, Rose picked up the phone and called Lil in Boston.

“Might be I could fit her in,” Lil said, “if it’s just for a few days.”

“I swear to God, Lil, I don’t know what else to do.  There’s nothing here, and if she goes back to that horrible man, he’ll kill her.  He has the coldest eyes I’ve ever seen.  I’ll have to help her find a permanent place, but in the meantime, she has no place to go when they release her from the hospital tomorrow.”

“Bring her on down, hon.  We can squeeze for a few days, and nobody’ll be the wiser.”

“God love you, Lil.  It’s people like you who make me believe in angels.”

***

The Hunters lived in a sprawling contemporary home that sat on a ridge overlooking Mount Washington.  When he pulled into the driveway, Jolene was waiting for him.  She slipped out the front door, stood beneath the porch overhang to pull up her hood, then ran through the falling snow to his Jeep.  Jesse popped open the passenger door for her, and she climbed into the front seat.  “Nasty weather,” she said.

“It sure is.  Where’s Tessa?”

Jolene rolled her eyes.  “She’s not coming.  She had a massive blow-out with her mom, and she’s grounded for the next two weeks.”  She dropped her hood, looked around the Jeep’s empty interior.  “Where’s your wife?”

“She had an emergency at work.  I’m afraid she’s not coming either.”

“Oh.” There was a moment of silence as they both contemplated the awkwardness of the situation.  And then Jolene shrugged.  “Well,” she said, “I guess we’ll just have to enjoy Shakespeare without them.”

The roads were snow-covered, the traveling sluggish, and he concentrated on his driving.  It was foolish to feel awkward just because he was alone in the company of a seventeen-year-old girl.  It wasn’t as though they were strangers; the girl sat in his classroom five afternoons a week.  And Jolene was handling the situation graciously, making polite conversation.  But he felt so uncomfortable that he was almost turned around and called the whole thing off.  Rose’s words held him back.  He didn’t want Jolene to be disappointed.  And he’d really been looking forward to seeing the play.

By the time they reached Portland, it was getting late, so he skipped the restaurant and swung through McDonald’s for take-out instead.  The weather had kept a number of people inside, and the theater was only sparsely populated.  But the performance was everything it had been touted to be.  The young woman who played Juliet had a soft vulnerability that made her brilliant in the role of the doomed fourteen-year-old.  Romeo was dark and brooding, with a voice that carried to every corner of the old theater.  Mercutio was clever and puckish as he pranced around the stage, brandishing a gleaming sword.  Jesse glanced a couple of times at Jolene and saw that she was totally caught up in the drama as it unfolded in front of her.

It was late by the time they headed back to Jackson Falls, and the snow had been accumulating for hours.  Road maintenance crews were out, but they were having a hard time keeping up with the drifting snow.  Jesse switched the Jeep to four-wheel drive and kept half his mind on the road as he and Jolene discussed the play they’d seen.  Her observations were astute, and surprisingly mature for a girl of her age.  “I thought that Lucinda Barnes was perfect for the role of Juliet,” she said.  “She has to be in her twenties, but her interpretation of a teenage girl was right on the mark.”

“I felt the same way,” he said.  “Juliet’s usually played by an older woman, and sometimes they cover up their inability to remember adolescence with overacting.  But Barnes was nicely understated in her interpretation.”

“And Damian Reese’s Romeo was—well, I guess the only word I can think of is exuberant.”

“So how do you think this compared with other versions you’ve seen?”

“It was different.  I can’t say better or worse.  The Zeffirelli version was the first one I ever saw, and of course that was acted wonderfully.  But this one comes a close second.”

They were both silent for a time as he maneuvered the Jeep through the velvety darkness.  Outside, the soft mantle of snow muffled the swish of his tires.  Inside, they were cocooned in a warm, dark space where muted classical music poured from the radio that Jolene had tuned to the local public broadcasting station.  Bored and a little sleepy, he reached into his coat pocket for the pack of chewing gum he’d put there earlier.

When he glanced back at the road, the buck was standing thirty feet in front of him, eyes glowing, mesmerized by the gleam of his headlights.  Jesse hit the brakes and swerved.  His right front wheel caught the edge of a snowdrift, and he began to skid.  He steered into the skid, but when his rear wheel hit the drifting snow, the Jeep spun around, crossed the road, and his headlights briefly illuminated the buck as it bounded off into the forest.  They hit the soft shoulder, bounced two or three times, then with a hard, jarring thud, they landed at an awkward angle in the ditch.

They both rocketed forward, but their seatbelts kept them from slamming into the dashboard.  “You okay?” he asked Jolene the moment the vehicle stopped moving.

“I’m fine,” she said.  “What about you?”

“I’m all right, but I have a sinking feeling we won’t be driving out of here.” He opened his door and stepped out, grateful, when he sank into snow up to his knees, that he’d worn boots tonight instead of dress shoes.  He waded through the snow to the rear of the Jeep and knelt down to assess the situation.  His right rear wheel was buried to the fender in heavy, wet snow.  He did a little half-hearted scooping with his hands, but quickly gave up.  The snow was too heavy to move by hand.  He always carried a shovel in the winter, but the way he was mired, no amount of shoveling was going to free him.  He was going to have to call a tow truck.

Jesse stood back up, wiped his wet hands on his pants, and studied his surroundings, trying to get his bearings.  It wasn’t easy with the snow obliterating landmarks.  As far as he could tell, he was about twenty miles out of Jackson Falls on a back-country road that was seldom traveled at night.  He turned around to get back into the Jeep and ran head-on into Jolene, who’d been standing about a half-inch behind him.  He hadn’t even heard her get out of the car.  “Sorry,” he said.

“Are we stuck?” she asked, peering around him at the Jeep’s right rear quarter.

“Afraid so.  You might as well get back in.  It’s freezing out here, and it could be a while before we get hauled back onto the road.  I’m going to find a phone.”

At a nearby house, he used the phone to call AAA, and was told that there were vehicles off the road everywhere.  “We’ll get to you as soon as we can,” the dispatcher told him.

He dialed home, and Rose mumbled a sleepy hello.  “I was just napping,” she said.  “What time is it?”

“About ten-thirty.  Everything okay there?”

“Mmn.” She yawned.  “Where are you?”

“Somewhere around Livermore.”

Sleepily, she said, “And this is supposed to have significance for me because?”

He laughed.  “Let’s just say I’m somewhere in the boonies, about halfway home.  I’m calling because I ran off the road, and—”

“What?” The sleepiness was abruptly gone from her voice.  “Are you all right?”

“We’re fine.  A buck jumped out in front of us and we slid off into the ditch.  But we’re mired some good.  I’ve called for a tow, but it may be a while.  I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“You’re sure everything’s okay?”

“Everything’s fine.  But I’ll be pretty late, so don’t bother to wait up for me.” He paused.  “What about your situation? How’d that turn out?”

“Oh, God, Jesse, she’s a mess.  He’s not getting away with this one.  I’m going to see to it that he hangs by the balls for what he did to her.  The hospital’s releasing her in the morning, and I’m taking her to Lil.”

“To Lil? Why so far?”

“All the shelters around here were full.  Lil will squeeze her in for a few days, until I can find something for her, and nobody will know the difference.  It was either that or bring her home with me.  Even I’m not that crazy.”

He returned to the Jeep, and he and Jolene settled in to wait for the tow truck.  Outside the vehicle, in the darkness, snow fell softly all around them.  “I’m sorry,” he told Jolene.  “I imagine this isn’t quite how you expected tonight would turn out.”

“Are you kidding? This is the best time I’ve had since I left Philly.”

“I guess Jackson Falls isn't quite what you’re used to.”

She snorted.  “Hardly.”

He toyed with the keys in the ignition.  “My wife’s from Boston.  Lived her whole life in the city until we got married a few months ago.  It’s been a bit of an adjustment for her.”

“I still can’t believe my parents moved here.  Deliberately.  I’m getting out the minute I’m free.  I’m not about to spend the rest of my working in a shoe shop.  I’m headed someplace where I never have to listen to another George Strait song.”

“Have you applied to college?”

“I’ve been accepted to UCLA to study journalism.  As of June fourteenth, this girl is headed for Southern California, and she’s not looking back.”

He was glad for her, and said so.  “I already know how hard I’ll have to work,” she said, “to get what I want.  But I’m not afraid of work.  I’ll flip burgers if I have to.  I’ll work as a stringer for the
National Enquirer
.  Deliver pizzas.  Clip poodles.  Whatever it takes.”

Her gritty determination impressed him.  “If you need a letter of recommendation, I’ll write you one.”

She hesitated.  “There is one thing you could do for me.”

The snow had begun to accumulate on the windshield, and he was feeling mildly claustrophobic.  “Sure,” he said, turning the key and sending the wipers in a quick sweep across the windshield.  “What’s that?”

“You could come with me.”

He should have seen it coming.  But he hadn’t.  She’d come at him out of nowhere and hit him with a line drive right between the eyes.  “Come with you?” he said stupidly, the only words his stunned brain could come up with.

“I tried to tell you how I felt,” she said.  “In the notes.  I thought you’d know they were from me.”

He almost laughed.  Know they were from her? Hell, he’d never even remotely considered her.  Choosing his words carefully, he said, “Look, Jolene, I’m flattered.  Really flattered.  But I’m married.”

“I’ve read every one of your books.  You’re a brilliant writer.  I couldn’t believe it when I found out you were teaching in this little backwater town.  I fell madly in love with you the day I walked into your classroom.”

“You’re seventeen years old.  I’m old enough to be your father.”

“Boys my age are so callow.”  She dismissed them all with a single wave of her hand.  “They’re clueless.  Immature.  But it’s obvious from your books that you know what life is all about.  It’s such a turn-on.”

“My books are fiction.  They’re written to entertain people.  I’m no hero.”

“You are to me.  And we think alike.  We could accomplish so much, the two of us.  Two brilliant minds, both of us writers, both of us working to better the world.  Together.”

“Look,” he said, “you’re intelligent and talented and you really have a lot going for you.  But I’m a married man, and I’m way too old for you.  One of these days, somebody your own age will come along, and you’ll forget all about me.”

“Don’t patronize me!”

The palms of his hands were sweating, and with enormous relief he saw the tow truck rounding the curve behind him.  It pulled up beside them, its revolving amber light a welcoming beacon in the darkness.  In its glow, he watched as a single tear welled up, overflowed, and ran in a glistening trail down her cheek. 

“I’ve waited so long to tell you how I feel,” she said.  “I’ve been thinking about you, watching you, dreaming about you, for months.  I know everything about you.  I know that you park your car in the corner lot so nobody will dent it.  I know that you eat a tuna sandwich and an apple every day for lunch.  I know that you graduated from Jackson Falls High eighteen years ago and you got your teaching degree from the University of Maine at Farmington.  I know from the way you write that you understand what it feels like to love somebody until you think you’ll die from it.” She turned a tear-stained face to him.  “That’s how I feel about you.”

Jolene—”

“Tonight,” she said, “when Tessa and your wife didn’t come with us, I took it as an omen.  Like we were meant to be together.  Just the two of us, watching Shakespeare’s most romantic play together.  I knew it had to mean it was time to tell you how I felt.”

The tow truck driver got out, clipboard in hand, and began walking toward them.  Jesse hesitated, hand on the door latch.  The sophisticated woman who had discussed Shakespeare with him was gone, replaced by a seventeen-year-old girl who had just been rejected.  He felt a twinge of compassion.  Hell, she was just a kid, just a kid with a crush on her English teacher.  “Look,” he said gently, “to spare you any further embarrassment, I’m going to forget this ever happened.  But first thing tomorrow morning, I want you to meet with Principal Lamoreau to talk about finishing Honors English as an independent study with somebody else.  After what’s happened, it would be better if you didn’t come back to my class.  Do you understand?”