She and Orrin were first to arrive at the restaurant. They sat on a sofa in the bar, waiting for Cole and Cynthia. Kit played with her strawberry daiquiri, licking the pink crystals off the straw while Orrin sipped his gin and tonic. He was talking about another case he had at Blair, but she wasn’t listening. She was remembering her appointment that afternoon with Barb Chrisman. It had relieved her to see a woman gynecologist again. The second she walked into Barb’s office, she’d felt a bond.
She told her she wanted her tubes tied, but Barb shook her head. “Let me give you a diaphragm for now, Kit,” she said. “You should wait a couple of months before you have the tubal. I’ll give you the name of someone in Atlanta.”
Kit didn’t protest. She wished she were more certain of her feelings. Another pregnancy was unthinkable. Yet there was that raw ache deep in her belly each time she thought of Alison.
“There they are,” she said now as Cole and Cynthia appeared in the doorway. She was struck again by how well-matched they were in their handsomeness, both tan, both in blue. She suddenly saw herself sometime in the future, sitting in her living room in Atlanta, opening the wedding invitation. Opening the birth announcement. She put the thought out of her mind and reached up to take the hand Cynthia offered.
Cynthia pulled a chair close to the sofa and sat down.
“I wanted to tell you how sad I felt about your baby,” she said in a near-whisper.
Kit squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”
“I can’t imagine what it’s like to carry a baby all that time only to lose it.”
She’s good at this, Kit thought. There were a few seconds of silence and she took a deep breath. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you either, finding out about Cole and the baby.”
Cynthia smiled. “Oh well. It happened before I met him.” She brushed a strand of her long, dark hair behind her ear. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. I actually ran yesterday. Not far, but it felt great.”
“You were in such good shape before, it shouldn’t take you long.”
The men were leaning against the wall near the bar. They looked bored. “I think they’re waiting for us.” Kit nodded in their direction.
They had a table in the middle of the dining room next to the dance floor. She was starving. She talked them into ordering three different appetizers.
She worked on an artichoke heart while Cole fed Cynthia plump sautéed mushrooms from his fork. It was odd to watch him with a woman other than Estelle. Their relationship was obviously different. He was in much greater control.
She was pleased at how little tension there was between herself and Cole tonight. He seemed to be pretending she’d said nothing to him last night about leaving. That was fine with her. She would handle it the same way.
“This is a little better than last night’s dinner, wouldn’t you say, Kit?” he asked her now.
She laughed. “We ate junk food at the boardwalk last night,” she explained. “We took Rennie and her friends to celebrate the end of summer school.” She added that quickly, not wanting Orrin and Cynthia to think it had been just the two of them, alone.
“I’ve never understood why Rennie’s in a foster home instead of a reform school,” said Cynthia.
“She doesn’t need to be reformed,” said Cole.
“But you said that she ran away from home. Shouldn’t a child who runs away be disciplined in some way other than sending her to live in a house on the beach?”
Cole looked exasperated. “She spent her life being neglected by her mother and getting beaten up by her mother’s boyfriend. What else was she supposed to do?”
“Sometimes running away is the healthiest thing a kid can do,” said Kit.
“I suppose. I just can’t imagine families like that. And it amazes me that they’d put her in the Chapel House instead of with a normal family.”
“I think she’s lucky,” said Orrin. “She has five foster parents all to herself.”
Good for you, Orrin, Kit thought. “The county’s not happy about having her at the Chapel House either, Cynthia. They’re trying to find a so-called normal family to place her with.”
“Hopefully they won’t,” said Cole. There was an edge to his voice that Kit couldn’t read.
“Did you have another rough day?” she asked him.
He looked surprised. “Not really. A nasty abortion I wished I could have passed on. But it worked out all right.”
Cynthia made a face. “All abortions are nasty,” she said. “I wish you didn’t do them. I lie to my friends when they ask me if you do.”
“And I wish you didn’t lie,” Cole said quietly.
Orrin leaned back as his prime rib dinner was set in front of him. “What if the fetus were so damaged that it’d be born with severe handicaps or a terminal condition?” he asked Cynthia.
Cynthia shook her head. “There’s no reason I can think of that would justify taking the life of a baby.” She turned to Cole. “What was the reason for the abortion today?”
“She had four kids already and she didn’t think she could give a fifth child all the attention he’d need.”
“She should have thought about that before she got pregnant. Anyone who’s dumb enough to get pregnant when she doesn’t want . . .” Cynthia’s cheeks reddened. She looked at Kit, immediately contrite. “I’m sorry.”
Kit laughed, more amused than angry. “You’d better watch out, Cynthia,” she said. “Birth control isn’t foolproof, and I know for a fact that the gun you’re playing with is loaded.”
“Kit.” Cole looked at her in disbelief, but she knew he was fighting a smile. “Let’s move on to some other topic, okay?”
They turned to their food, filling the silence with the sound of forks clinking against china.
She danced with Cole near the end of the evening, thinking that dancing was a wonderful invention. She could hold him close to her for an extended period of time and no one would guess at the pleasure it gave her.
“Orrin’s a nice guy,” he said, “but I don’t think he’s good enough for you. Maybe you’ll find someone better in Atlanta.”
“Maybe.” She wasn’t certain she was pleased that he acknowledged her leaving in such an offhanded way.
“I won’t stand in your way, Kit, if this is what you want.”
“Thank you.” She was ashamed of herself that she preferred his wounded reaction last night to this one.
“Do you see the problem with Cynthia?” he asked. “She’s so conservative. She was in the Girl Scouts until she was twenty. That’s pathological, don’t you think?”
“There is a very sheltered quality about her. But she’s a warm person. She said some nice things to me about the baby.”
“Yeah, she’s nice all right. But there are these basic differences between us that seem practically insurmountable.”
“She’s just different from the people you’re used to. I think you expect her to change her values for you when you wouldn’t dream of changing yours for her.”
“Oh no? My sex life is suddenly limited to the missionary position. If that’s not surrendering to her values, I don’t know what is.”
“Poor Cole,” she laughed. “Maybe I should take her aside and give her a pep talk.”
“Why don’t you just take me aside and . . . I’m sorry. I was about to say something completely inappropriate.”
She felt herself blush and he hugged her with a laugh.
“I never knew you were so easily embarrassed,” he said.
“I’m not,” she said, her voice teasing. “That’s not the blush of embarrassment. It’s the blush of unresolved desire.”
“Oh really? I wonder if Orrin knows what he’s in for.” He hesitated and slowed his dancing to a near standstill. “Or is it really me you’d like it from?”
She looked up at him, at a face more serious than she’d anticipated. His eyes were looking inside her. She struggled to think of a witty comeback but nothing came to her. She put her head against his neck.
“Let’s change the subject,” she said, telling him all she needed to.
He let go of her hand and wrapped both his arms around her and they finished the dance in silence.
Sex with Orrin was lackluster. She lay in his arms afterward, empty and unsatisfied. She had to admit she’d been pretty mechanical. Two weeks were up, it was time, he was more than willing. His prettiness wasn’t lost on her, but she felt nothing for him.
He was quickly asleep, and she got out of bed and stood at his window, staring into the dark woods. She ran her fingertips across the scar on her stomach. Cole was with Cynthia tonight. In another few weeks she could stop torturing herself with those images. She would no longer know his whereabouts every night.
And she’d no longer see his smile at breakfast or feel his arm around her on the beach. She swallowed hard to keep the tears back. She wished she’d never met him. She had too much and not enough of him at the same time.