I am no good at love. I betray it with little sins.
—Noel Coward
Every minute Hope spent with Rebecca and
Theo was as precious to her as drops of water to a man dying of thirst in the desert.
All had established a ritual of having dinner together, Helen and Theo, Rebecca and Hope sharing cooking duties. Lee had shortened his workweek to three days. He usually arrived late Wednesday, and departed with the last ferryboat on Sunday.
The night before, the five adults had celebrated well into the night with potent concoctions after Theo announced he had completed his sixth script. He was two months ahead of schedule. Hope had completed more than half of her book and had downloaded enough letters to Bill for her “Straight Talk” column to run through the end of the year.
She lay facedown on a chaise on the patio at the rear of Theo’s house, listening to the melodic voice of Phil Perry coming through the speakers of a portable stereo system. Lee and Rebecca had invited her to join them for a walk along the beach, but she had declined. It was to become the last weekend the Owenses would spend on the island. She closed her eyes, enjoying the heat of the waning sunlight on her back, when she heard Helen calling out to Theo that he had a telephone call.
Hope hadn’t realized she had fallen asleep until she felt someone shake her. “Wake up, sweetheart.”
She came awake immediately and sat up. Theo stood over her. There was a lethal calmness in his eyes that frightened her. “What’s the matter?”
He reached for her upper arm. “Come with me. I have something to tell you.”
Balking, she pulled back. “Tell me now.”
“No, Hope. Not here.”
Her sandals made little slip-slapping sounds on the patio’s terra-cotta flooring as she followed Theo into the house. A blast of cold air swept over her. The contrast between the indoor and outdoor temperatures was at least twenty degrees.
Theo led her into a bedroom off a wing of the kitchen and closed the door. She knew with a quick glance that it was his bedroom. A computer and printer sat on a table in an alcove. Lacing his fingers through hers, he pulled her down to sit on a queen-size bed.
Theo stared at her, adding to her apprehension. “What do you want to tell me?” she asked.
“I just got some news that’s… that’s not going to bode well for you.”
“What is it?” Her voice was trembling.
“Your name is back in the Chatterer again.” He squeezed her fingers in a comforting gesture. “The next issue has a story about your ex-boyfriend and his male lover. The lover claims the three of you have been involved in a ménage à trois.”
Hope felt the roaring in her head and the constriction shutting off her breath before the room started spinning. Gurgling gasps came from her throat as she tried to speak. Theo’s face shimmered before her eyes. She saw his mouth open but could not hear what he was saying to her. She did not remember what happened next, but suddenly her body was on fire. When everything cleared, she saw Helen staring down at her.
“Don’t get up,” Helen murmured softly. “You almost fainted.”
“Is she going to be all right?” Rebecca’s voice came from somewhere above her.
Theo placed his hand alongside her cheek. “Yes.”
Hope swallowed in an attempt to moisten her throat. “Who told you?”
Leaning closer, Theo pressed his mouth to her ear. “Someone at the paper called my agent and told him the edition will be on the newsstands tomorrow.”
Hope blinked back tears. “It’s all a lie, Theo.”
He gave her a long, penetrating look. “I know that.”
“You believe me.” Her lids fluttered wildly. “You’re probably the only one other than my sister.” Sitting up, she pulled a cloth from her forehead and stared directly at Helen. “I dated a man for three years, not knowing he was bisexual until I walked in on him and another man the day I planned to tell him that I would marry him.”
The older woman gasped loudly. Theo glanced over his shoulder. Rebecca and Helen were huddled together. “Please leave us.” The two women turned and walked out of the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind them. He released Hope and sat on a chair several feet from the bed.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to make a telephone call.”
“Use mine.” He reached for a small phone on a table next to the chair, and handed it to her.
She flipped open the top and dialed. The call was answered after the second ring.
“This is KC.”
The runaway pounding of her heart echoed in her ears. “This is Hope.”
“Hey, baby. How are you?”
Hope’s gaze was fixed on Theo’s impassive expression. “This is not a social call, KC. I’m calling you to tell you that your business is in the street.”
“What are you talking about?” His voice had lost its velvet softness.
“It appears that your lover went to the Chatterer about his relationship with you. I don’t care how many men you sleep with, but what I don’t want is to be brought into it—especially not in the tabloids. Tell your lover that he’d better get the paper to retract the story about me being a participant in a ménage à trois or I’ll sue him and that rag he gave the story to for so much money that he won’t be able to buy even a single sheet of toilet paper to wipe his ass.” She pressed a button and ended the call. Her hands were shaking when she handed Theo back the phone. “Thank you.” Lifting her chin, she met his tortured gaze. “I want to go home.”
He inclined his head. “Come, I’ll take you.”
Hope fought against the tears she refused to let fall as Theo led her through the house and out the front door to his vehicle. There was complete silence as he drove down Beach Road to her house. She got out without waiting for him to help her. A jumble of confused thoughts and emotions made her feel as if she was swimming underwater in the dark.
Theo was beside her as she unlocked the front door. “Good night, Theo.”
He rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m not leaving, Hope.”
She shook her head from side to side. “Please. I need to be alone.” A cynical smile twisted her mouth. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not going to do anything stupid.”
His hand slipped down her spine. “Let me stay with you. Just for a little while.”
“Why, Theo?”
He kissed her hair. “Because I care about you.”
She smiled in spite of her predicament. “Okay. But just for a little while, because I have to make a few more phone calls.” She had to call and leave voice mail messages for her attorney, Bill, and then she needed to speak to her parents. They had to be informed of the craziness going on in her life.
She and Theo lay across the bed together, holding hands. There was no need for conversation; there was nothing they could say that would counter the lewd gossip printed in the Chatterer.
“Do you know him?” Theo asked after a long, comfortable silence.
“Who?” Her voice was raspy, as if she had been yelling for hours.
“The piece of shit who gave the story to the rag?”
“No. Why did you ask?”
“No reason.”
“You have a reason, Theo.” Turning her head, she stared at his stoic expression. “You’re not thinking what I’m thinking?”
“What am I thinking, Hope?”
She rose on an elbow. “I don’t want anything to happen to that piece of shit until I settle this legally. If I’m not able to refute his accusations, then I’m finished professionally. I’ll lose my column and possibly the radio position. And, I can forget about a private practice. I could make the rounds on the television talk show circuit. Imagine the hype I could generate by becoming a guest on Maury, Jerry Springer, Montel Williams, Ricki Lake,or Jenny Jones where the topic is, Are you involved in a straight, bi, or homosexual triangle?”
“Stop it, Hope!”
A tense silence enveloped the room as they glared at each other. She closed her eyes, and the tightness around her mouth eased. “It’s either joke about it or cry about it.” She looked at him. “And I’d rather laugh than cry.”
“There’s nothing wrong with crying, sweetheart.”
“I only cry about things I can’t control.”
Theo wanted to tell her that what would appear in the Chatterer in a few hours was worth crying about because it was beyond her control. As soon as the paper was placed in the racks, the tongues would begin wagging.
Hope sat in the dark after Theo left. The darkness comforted and protected her so she could see not what was real but whatever fantasy she conjured up.
But she knew she could not spend her life in darkness, hiding from the real world. And despite her fear of what was about to happen, she reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. She slipped off the bed and walked to the other bedroom. Her hands were steady when she removed her cell phone from its charger. The tension was gone from her face when she opened her planner and dialed the number to her attorney’s office. Following the prompts, she left an abbreviated version of what Theo had told her about the upcoming article and her cell phone number.
She dialed her editor’s home number, and he picked up after the third ring. “Talk to me.”
Hope smiled at his unorthodox greeting. “Bill, this is Hope.”
He chuckled. “You never have to identify yourself, because your voice gives you away. I got your e-mail attachments the other day, and the bundles of letters were delivered today. You don’t have to send them overnight. Regular mail will do.”
“Overnight mail is special handling, regular isn’t.”
“Save your money, Hope, and buy a shredder.”
“I will.” After she answered all of the letters, newspaper personnel shredded them. Although she answered thousands of letters throughout the year, only a small percentage made the column.
“Why the call, Hope?” It was on a rare occasion that she called his home.
“I’m calling to warn you that I might be front page news in tomorrow’s Chatterer.”
“Oh, damn! What crap do they have on you?”
She told him about seeing her ex-boyfriend and his lover together, and the lover’s story about a sexual triangle. Each time she repeated the story, she gathered more strength.
William Casey Cullen let loose with a stream of expletives that forced Hope to hold the phone away from her ear. “Do you have the lover’s name?” he asked once he recovered from his tirade.
“No.”
“Can you get it?”
“I don’t know.”
There was a pause before Bill’s voice came through the tiny earpiece. “I know someone who used to work for that rag. He still owes me a favor. Let me see what I can do on this end. It’s too late to stop the sale of the paper, but that doesn’t mean they won’t pay for printing lies.”
“It’s more than lies, Bill. It’s slander.”
“I hope you called your lawyer.”
“I called him first.”
“Good for you. Don’t worry, beautiful. You’re going to beat this.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. But…” Her words trailed off.
“But what?”
“What about my column?”
“What about it?”
“How will this affect my position with your paper?”
“If you’re asking whether you still have a job, then the answer is yes. What happened to everyone is innocent until proven guilty?”
She smiled. “You’re right. I am innocent.”
“You don’t have to try and convince me. I’m going to make a few calls, and I’ll let you know what I come up with. Do you have a number at your house, or do you want me to call you on your cell?”
“The cell.”
“Good. Talk to you later.”
“Thank you, Bill.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
She smiled. “Good night, Bill.”
He blew a kiss through the wire. “Later, Hope.”
She was smiling when she dialed her parents’ number. It was her mother who answered. Hope greeted her as she normally would, then asked that her father get on the extension. Patrick and Flora were silent as she told them about her breakup with Kendall and everything that had followed.
“Why didn’t you say something before, Hope?” Patrick asked angrily.
“There was nothing to say, Daddy. What do you say to a man who prefers a same-sex relationship?”
“I just realized I have another use for those golf clubs you gave me.”
“Daddy, no!”
“Patrick!”
Hope and her mother screamed at the same time.
“Junior, Bobby and me will handle this, Hope.” There was a distinctive click when Patrick hung up.
Hope felt weak, as if she were going to faint again. “Mama, please talk to Daddy. If he goes after Kendall, then I’ll never clear my reputation.”
“No worry, baby. I’ll talk to him.”
“You better talk to Bobby. You know he’s the one who will thump, then talk afterwards.”
“No one is going to hurt anyone. What I want you to do is sue the hell out of that paper for printing those lies.”
She smiled. “I intend to do just that.”
“When are you coming back?”
“The end of September.”
“Will you be able to conduct your business from down there?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to pray for you, baby.”
“Thank you, Mama. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Hope pressed a button. She had made her three calls, and now what she had to do was wait—wait for her attorney to call her back, and wait for the onslaught of negative reaction to the tabloid article.
Theo hit the Talk button, listening for the ringing on the other end. He sat up straighter when he heard a male voice.
“This is KC.”
“KC, this is TH.”
“I don’t know a TH.”
“Don’t hang up,” Theo warned softly, “because you will know me soon enough.”
“What do you want?”
“This is about Hope Sutton.”
“Look, man, I don’t want to get into that with you.”
“You won’t,” Theo snapped, “if you just answer my question.”
“I’m going to hang up.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“If you hang up on me, then you’ll find out who I am real quick. All I need from you is a name. The name of your lover.”
“He’s not my lover.”
“What?”
“I saw Otis a few times, but it didn’t work out.”
“Does this Otis have a last name?”
“Pratt.”
“Does Mr. Otis Pratt have an address?”
“What are you going to do?”
“That’s none of your business, KC.”
“If anything happens to him, then the police are going to come looking for me. That spiteful bitch has done enough damage. Once that article hits, I’m done.”
“You should’ve thought about that when you took up with him. An address and phone number, KC.” Theo wrote down the information Hope’s ex gave him, smiling.
“I don’t know if he’s still there. It’s his sister’s place. He bounces around quite a bit, looking for someone to take him in. He’s what I call a homo ho.”
“Thanks for the information. Good luck.”
Theo was still smiling when he dialed the number of a friend in San Francisco. He liked the old adage that it’s not what you know but who you know. Jay had once lived on the streets for five years. He’d entered a rehab clinic and eventually taken over his father’s trucking business.
Jay’s daughter answered the call. “Daddy, it’s Mr. Howell.”
Less than a minute later Jay’s soft voice came through the line. “What’s up, friend?”
Theo explained Hope’s situation and why he needed his friend’s help. “All I need is for him to recant what will appear in tomorrow’s paper.”
“Consider it done,” Jay said without hesitation. “What’s your connection with the lady, Theo?”
“I like her.”
“Just like?”
“Okay, Jay. I think I’m in love with her.”
“Think or know?”
“I’m still confused.” And his confusion stemmed from the fact that at forty years of age, he still had not accepted his mother’s rejection.
“Once you clear up the confusion, send me a wedding invitation. If a former drug-addicted male prostitute can clean up his act, marry, and have a couple of beautiful, normal kids, you can, my friend.”
“You’re right about that, my friend.”
Theo rang off, then headed for his bathroom to shower. It would be the first night in nearly six weeks that he would not share Hope’s bed. Perhaps he needed to be alone with his thoughts to see things more clearly. He was scheduled to leave McKinnon Island in two weeks, and he knew his relationship with Hope had to be resolved.