“She cut off her hair and dyed it black,” Alec said.
Olivia rolled onto her side, moving Sylvie out of her way. She knew when the phone rang at ten-thirty each night who it was, and she was sure to be in bed by then. He was the one who said it first—that he liked talking to her from his bed, that his bed was the loneliest place in his house since Annie died. Yes, she agreed, she knew exactly what he meant. She felt close to him, talking to him in the darkness. His lights were off as well; she had asked him that the first night. She’d stopped short of asking him what he slept in, not certain she wanted to know.
“She’s tired of existing in Annie’s shadow,” Olivia said. She understood all too well how Lacey felt.
“It makes her look cheap,” Alec said. “I keep thinking of those men on the boat. She was enjoying their attention a little too much. She told me her best friend is having sex. Maybe she’s not as naive as I’d like to think. Annie was only fifteen her first time.”
Olivia frowned. “Fifteen?”
“Yes, but there were extenuating circumstances.”
“Like what?”
Alec sighed. “Well, she was raised with a lot of money but not much love,” he said. “I guess she tried to find it the only way she knew how. She was pretty promiscuous as a teenager—she loathed that word, but I don’t know what else you’d call it.”
Olivia said nothing. She wondered if Annie had still been looking for love the night she slept with Paul.
“So how old were you?” Alec asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
He laughed. “I guess that was pretty blunt. You sounded so appalled when I said Annie was fifteen, it made me wonder about you. You don’t have to answer.”
Olivia wrapped the telephone cord around her fingers. “I was fourteen the first time,” she said, “and twenty-seven the second.”
It was a few seconds before Alec spoke again. “I’ve opened a can of worms.”
“Well, I don’t talk about this much.”
“And you don’t have to now if you don’t want to.”
She rolled onto her back again and closed her eyes. “I was raped when I was fourteen by an older boy in my neighborhood.”
“God, Olivia, I’m sorry.”
“It left scars. It made me…apprehensive about sex, and I didn’t make love until I was twenty-seven. That’s when I met Paul.”
“There was no one in all those years you felt safe enough with?”
She laughed. “I didn’t exactly have to fight men off with a stick. I was a very nerdy adolescent, and not much better as an adult. I avoided the whole issue of men and dating by focusing on my studies or my work.”
“I can’t picture you nerdy. You’re so attractive and self-confident.”
“In the ER, maybe, but it’s not that easy for me to feel good about myself in the real world. Confidence is something I’ve always had to work at, and being dumped by my husband for a woman who is practically a figment of his imagination hasn’t helped.”
“I’m sorry I dredged up bad memories for you.”
“You didn’t. They’re always there in one form or another.”
“What did you parents do about the rape? Did you prosecute the guy?”
Olivia stared up at the dark ceiling. “My father was dead, and my mother was very sick—an alcoholic, actually—and she wasn’t capable of much by then. I didn’t tell anyone about it until I met Paul. You’re only the second person I’ve told.” She pulled Sylvie closer, until the cat’s soft head was against her cheek. “Anyhow, I left home after it happened and moved in with one of my teachers.”
“I had no idea you had such a difficult past.”
“Well, I owe a lot to Paul.” She had been able to tell Paul the entire story of her past, of the rape. She’d dated him for several months before she dared let him know the truth about her background, and during that time she’d seen him cry at sad movies and listened to him read poetry he’d written about her. She knew she could tell him anything.
He’d responded to her story with the compassion she’d expected. He was the gentlest of lovers, his patience infinite. He did as much as any man could to heal the scars of that day so long ago. In the process, he awakened something in her. Your lascivious side, he called it, and she knew he was right. She felt a wild need to make up for the time she’d lost, and Paul obliged her most willingly, nurturing that newly discovered part of herself.
But now he’d told her that he’d made love to Annie, a woman with twenty-five years’ worth of lovemaking experience behind her. She was so free-spirited, he’d said. So full of life.
“Alec,” Olivia said, “I need to get off.”
“I’ve upset you.”
“No, it just makes me remember what a caring husband I used to have.”
“I don’t understand his problem, Olivia. I feel like calling him up and telling him he has a beautiful wife who loves him and needs him and…”
She sat up. “Alec, you wouldn’t.”
“I think he’s out of his mind. He doesn’t know what he’s got and how quickly he could lose it.”
“Alec, listen to me. You only know my side of the story. You don’t know what our marriage was like from Paul’s perspective. It wasn’t right for him or enough for him or—I’m not sure what. But, please, please, don’t try to interfere.”
“Relax. I’m not going to do anything.” Alec was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “When Paul finally gets his wits about him and comes back to you, do you think he’d mind if you talked to me from your bed every once in a while?”
Olivia lay back on her pillow again, smiling. “I hope I have that problem to worry about one of these days.”
“I hope you do, too.”
“I’d better get off.”
“Olivia?”
“Yes?”
“Nothing. I just like saying your name.”