The Show Goes On, page 9
Broke her heart. Broke her confidence in herself as a writer. She’d gone to Boston, done an MFA there, and then accepted University of Idaho’s offer of a teaching position. And here, she’d finally gotten back on the horse that threw her.
Now he was here, trying to destroy all that she’d painfully, carefully rebuilt after his brutal treatment of her a decade ago. She shook her head. She wasn’t going to let that happen.
She mourned the shattered dream Andrew Blake had created for her as he coldly stole from her. And he was here to make sure she wasn’t a credible witness, because a playwright finally sued him for it. She had known she couldn’t have been the first — or the last. But, Andrew Blake had seemed to invincible to take on when she was a 22-year-old recent graduate with a play. Andrew had calculated that correctly.
But now? As a college professor? She’d be credible all right. But she didn’t think she was brave enough to stand up to him even now. He’d miscalculated there. He should have left her alone, out here, oblivious to what was happening in New York. But he, like most New Yorkers, thought the world revolved around him, and that she’d be just waiting for her chance.
She shook her head. Even with as ruthless and calculating of a betrayal as Andrew Blake had delivered, she had grieved for a very long time.
But Jake? Jake was so completely different than Andrew Blake. He gave, where Andrew had taken. He was laughter and fun, and yet, he took her seriously. She couldn’t resist their moment out of time.
Even now, when she knew it was making work harder for her, she had a hard time regretting it.
It’s over, she told herself, as she pitched in to wash dishes in the kitchen. It’s done. He’s a student, and it’s not ever going to happen again.
She suspected she mourn the loss of Jake Abbott for a very long time.
Chapter 16
Gail gave the cast and crew Monday off. She was exhausted from the weekend, and she thought Jake had to be even worse. A lot of the students had pitched in at the ranch. They all deserved a break.
She sent Jake a text, worried that he had overdone it. She’d knew the scars he carried, the damaged muscles. She’d watched him do his exercises that kept him flexible. She knew about the cane that he loathed. It had taken him a year to heal after they carried him off the battlefield in a stretcher. A year when he’d written that play, trying to heal his mental health while physicians and physical therapists tried to heal his body.
I’m good, was all she got back. She frowned.
She sent Becca a text, and asked her to check on him: He may have overdone it.
Becca sent her a thumbs up.
Gail staggered through her intro class Monday morning, and then went back home. She could swear she smelled smoke still. She took another shower.
Her phone rang. “Gail?” Becca said anxiously. “I need you. Jake says he’s fine, but he’s not. He says he’ll be fine if he takes some pain meds, and sleeps for a while. But it doesn’t look like he’s slept in days. I know he was out at the fire all weekend. But he should have gotten some sleep, shouldn’t he? I think something’s really wrong.”
“On my way,” Gail said. “Meet me in the lobby so you can escort me up.”
She thought about drafting Ron Carroll to handle this, but she didn’t. Truth was, she was too worried. She needed to see to Jake herself.
Becca was pacing inside the residence hall when she got there. “He’s pissed I called you,” she said anxiously. “Said I had no right to involve you.”
“Of course, you do,” Gail said with reassurance. “You’re the GTA for the play, he’s the playwright. I’m the faculty director. Who else would you call?”
Becca relaxed. “He’s being a guy,” she said with an eyeroll. “He’s hurting, and he doesn’t want you to see him like this.”
Gail grinned. “It’s going to be even worse when I load him up and take him home with me,” she predicted. She hadn’t really thought about it, but she knew that’s what she was going to do if things were really bad. And she thought they might be, if he was growling at Becca.
It was hard to growl at the woman who always seemed to combine cheerfulness with competence. All of the GTAs looked to her for leadership. None of them would dare growl at her. So, Jake could just suck it up. If he didn’t want Becca mothering him, he was going to get Gail.
And if he refused to let Gail? Well, then she’d call Ron Carroll who could growl back and tell him to, “Suck it up, Marine.” It cracked her up when Ron did that. Even more amusing was how well it worked. Maybe she’d try it herself.
They took the elevator to the second floor, and Becca knocked on the door. “Go away,” Jake said, irritably.
Becca held up the key in her hand, and Gail grinned. “Palmed it from him, did you?” she whispered.
“Coming in,” Becca called. “Gail’s with me, so get decent.”
“Or not,” Becca added in a whisper that only Gail could hear. Gail choked a bit, and shook her head.
Becca unlocked the door, and let the two of them into the room. It was dark inside, although it was early afternoon. Headache, Gail thought. Migraine more likely. Jake was on his bed, his back rolled toward them.
“Status report,” Gail said. “When did you eat last?”
“Gail,” Jake said exasperatedly. “I’ll be fine.”
“Good to hear it,” she said. “When did you eat last?”
“I had dinner out at the ranch last night,” he said. “A few skipped meals won’t hurt me. I just need to rest.”
“Get any sleep last night?” she asked.
He was silent.
“Muscle spasms or nightmares?”
He sighed. “Both,” he admitted. “And the meds aren’t working.”
“Because you’re not eating, drinking enough water, and probably skipped coffee this morning?” Becca interjected. “Gee, I wonder if that would make things even worse? Men. This is why I’m glad I like women.”
Jake snorted, but he grinned at her over his shoulder. “I can see where there might be advantages,” he teased her and he rolled onto his back. Progress. Becca laughed.
Gail hadn’t realized Becca was this easy with Jake. Or that Jake was this easy with Becca. Becca kept that relationship pretty discreet. It was Idaho, after all.
“OK,” Gail began. “Jake, take a shower. Drink some water. Then we’re taking you to supper. We’ll see if that helps. And pack a bag. You’re spending the night at my place where I can keep an eye on you.”
“Gail,” he began, then stopped, with a glance at Becca. He bit his lip. “You might be better off to take me to the emergency room,” he said with a sigh. “I can’t get the muscle spasms to stop.”
“OK,” Gail said. “We’ll try food, caffeine, and rehydration. We’ll do a little bit of walking to work some of the kinks out. And if that doesn’t do it? We’ll take you to the infirmary.”
Jake nodded.
“Then you two had better step out,” he said wryly. “I promise not to lock you out.”
“Of course, you won’t,” Becca said smugly. “I still have your key.”
The two women stepped out into the hallway, and Gail listened anxiously until she could hear the shower start. “I tried to suggest all those things,” Becca said grumpily. “Would he listen to me? No.”
Gail grinned at her. “The voice of authority,” she suggested.
“Or something.” Becca eyed her, and started to say something. Then she stopped and shook her head. Gail didn’t press her. Becca was perfectly capable of asking almost anything, and if there were things she wouldn’t say, Gail didn’t know of them. How she got away with being as outrageous as she was, Gail didn’t know.
Well she did. See comment about cheerful and competent. Hard to get angry with that.
They waited until Jake joined them. He looked haggard. Gail bet he’d lost ten pounds over the weekend. “You pushed it too hard,” she observed. They walked slowly to the elevator, Jake in between Becca and herself. She wasn’t sure she could break his fall if he went down, but she’d try.
“I did,” he agreed. “But I knew how to fight a fire. Others didn’t. You should have seen Marilee’s banker, though. He stepped up. Didn’t know a damn thing, but he’d listen to Mark Blessing — Deborah’s cousin —and then issue the same orders, and those ROTC guys would snap to. But someone needs to have a word with ROTC. They should have been willing to listen to Mark. And they weren’t.”
Gail let him ramble as they walked out of the building. He winced at the sunlight and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. “We can eat here,” he suggested.
Gail shook her head. “No, we’re going to Nectar’s. Real food. Meat, potatoes and gravy, and we can tell them to watch the salt — you’ve got a migraine, right? And it’s dark inside.”
He didn’t argue. Gail guided them both to her car, parked illegally in the loading zone for the residence hall. Well, she was loading something, wasn’t she? No ticket, thankfully. She got everyone in, and set off for the restaurant, one of her favorites in town.
She saw Jake visibly relax when they walked in. It was quiet, dark and airconditioned. They took seats in a booth, and ordered. Maggie, one of the owners, brought out water. Gail asked for a pitcher, and then made Jake drink glass after glass. He glared at her, then laughed, but he drank it. It satisfied something inside her to see him get better before her eyes.
But he still had grim lines around his mouth. And he’d flinch, then close his eyes — riding out a spasm. He was hurting, she fretted. “How much pain killer have you taken?” she asked.
“More than I should,” he said. “It’s not helping, and I shouldn’t take anymore.”
Gail nodded, and changed the subject. Give him something to think about besides pain.
“Deborah Blessing’s take on her character?” Gail asked, looking around to see if there was anyone within listening distance. It was the middle of the afternoon; they had the place to themselves. She relaxed.
“Interesting,” Jake said. “She’s given her some thought. And it does make sense, because I wondered then how she spoke English. Not well — maybe it had just been a long time since she used it. My Pashto and Dari are awful, and I lose it if I don’t speak it. I doubt if I could get past hello, should we have tea? And it’s been, only 18 months?”
Gail laughed. “Is that the most used expression?” she teased. “Tea? Not a bathroom?”
He grinned. “You don’t want to use a bathroom in the villages,” he said. “Best not to even ask. But everything revolves around having tea.”
“So, you think Deborah is right? Your woman was educated and returned to the village?” Becca aske, still thinking about the original question. “Either for love of a man, or a sense of service to her community?”
He half-nodded, half-shrugged. “Best theory I’ve heard,” he agreed. “And believe me, the intelligence guys who showed up at my bedside wanted an answer to that question. I didn’t have one to give them.”
He shook his head. “They were convinced that one of us must have known her. Maybe been a lover. If so it wasn’t me. And I’m sure it wasn’t any of the others either. No, we were strangers to her and she took us in.”
“That’s a Christian command isn’t it?” Gail said, narrowing her eyes as she tried to recall it. “A judgment of those who don’t take in the stranger?”
“Probably a Muslim belief as well,” Jake said thoughtfully. “I’m pretty sure they’re commanded to provide for the traveler.”
That was interesting, Gail thought. She was going to assign some research into that.
Maggie came out with their food. “Eat up,” she said. “Seconds are on the house.”
Jake grinned, and dug in.
“Is Johnny going to be a problem? He was kind of an asshole to Deborah,” Becca asked, changing the subject.
“She can handle it,” Gail said. Deborah’s aunt, also named Deborah, had been one of the women in the kitchen. No-nonsense, capable — she taught the private school the German Baptists had for their kids until they reached high school. She thought their Deborah was a lot like her aunt.
“And he’s playing a macho Marine who sneers at our protagonist,” Jake said. “Cast to type there.”
Gail laughed. The various soldiers had different reactions to the woman. “We need to name her,” she said out loud. “We can’t keep calling her the woman.”
“Imama,” Jake said softly. “Her name was Imama. I looked it up later. It means one who leads.” He teared up.
Gail smiled at him. “Do you know who Deborah was?” she asked. “She’s one of the great judges and leaders of the Old Testament.”
He smiled. “Destined?” he asked, recovering. “That’s a bit much for me.”
“Me too,” Gail agreed. “Nevertheless, we have a young woman of one faith named for the great leader of Jews playing the role of a Muslim woman in Afghanistan named Imama, a woman who leads.”
Becca tapped her water glass. “Sorry to break up the woo-woo moment,” she murmured. “But isn’t that Andrew Blake out on the deck? Who is he with? Cary Jenkins, the art professor?”
Gail froze. Her back was to the patio and she didn’t turn to look. “Eat up,” she said, and she signaled for the check, then handed Maggie her credit card without even looking at it.
Jake finished his second helping, as promised, and drank some more water. He glanced out at the patio. “It’s him all right,” he said grimly. Then he smiled. It wasn’t a nice one. “And there’s a cane leaning against the chair next to him.”
Gail snorted. “Let’s get out of here,” she said. As she stood up, she glanced out at the patio. Then she swallowed hard.
“No, that’s not Cary,” Gail said, as she ushered the other two out. “That’s Susan Call.”
Jake frowned, and turned to look, but Gail shook her head, and headed down the street. “Restraining order,” she said. “And we’re not going to get into a confrontation with him. You hear me, Jake?”
“I hear,” he said. “But he’s having lunch with the wife of the department chair? Isn’t that a bit blatant?”
“Wait,” Becca said, stopping outside Gail’s car. “Did I miss something? Are you saying Andrew Blake is having an affair with Susan Call?”
“Get in the car, Becca,” Gail said tersely. Jake got in the front seat, and winced. He closed his eyes, and forced himself to breathe through it. Gail had seen him do it before.
Becca got inside. “Well? Is she?”
“So, I hear,” Gail said.
“Does Professor Call know? Why would Professor Call put up with that?” she demanded.
“Yes, he knows. He says he’s willing to do anything to keep her happy,” Gail said. “And no, I don’t understand it either.”
Chapter 17
Jake hurt. His muscles in his legs and back wouldn’t quit spasming. And Gail was right, food, water and a bit of a walk helped. But not enough. He thought he was going to have a breakdown in her car.
He saw Gail give him a worried look, but he was beyond any pretense. So when she drove to her place, he didn’t even protest. He was past caring about much of anything. Breathe, he told himself. Inhale. Slow. Exhale. Stop. Inhale. Slow. Exhale. Stop.
It really did help. But even Becca was silenced by his pain — pain could be so strong that others felt it, he had found. He hated it.
He kept his eyes closed behind his sunglasses, more so that tears didn’t leak out than to protect them from the sun. He hated being weak.
Think of other things, he commanded himself. Breathe.
Think of what? That Andrew Blake was blatantly having lunch with Susan Call? This was a small town, everyone would know. Did Susan Call hate her husband that much? He wondered if he tried to write a play about this if it would help him make sense of it all.
Writing Afghanistan hadn’t really made sense of things, as much as it asked the question that kept bouncing around his brain. It wouldn’t go away: Why?
Why had Imama saved him?
And then her question: Why are you here? Why are you in my village? My home? My country? Why are you here?
He didn’t have answers, not even now. But he found that just asking the question helped. He didn’t know if he would ever have answers. But sometimes the question itself was important.
He thought about Deborah Blessing. He’d worked closely with her uncle, Jacob Blessing, over the weekend. He’d been impressed with the man. Really impressed.
It was also the first time he’d be around a religious community like that. It gave him a different perspective on what Deborah Blessing was doing. The risk she was taking to be a part of this play. Was risk the right word? More of a stretch. Like jumping from a plane for the first time. This had to be out of her comfort zone. And yet she was determined to do it.
And she understood Imama in a way that Jake never had. He might actually get an answer to the question ‘why did she do that?’
Because he was pretty sure that Imama had died giving him the chance to live. And damn it, thinking about that was going to make him cry.
“We’re here,” Gail said, parking the car and turning it off. “Wait until I come around to help you out.”
“I can do it,” he mumbled. He opened the door, and his right leg gave out. Gail caught him.
“Damn stubborn, macho Marine,” he heard her mutter. And then Becca’s giggle. Even he had to smile.
He opened his eyes to navigate his way to the back door of Gail’s house. He and Gail were of a height, but he was 50 pounds heavier. He couldn’t let her bear all of it. And if he stumbled, he’d take her down with him. Breathe, he reminded himself. Becca opened the door.
“I thought you started locking it up again,” he muttered at her.
Gail shrugged. She got him inside. He paused to check out the house, to see if she’d done anything new. It looked like the window in the dining room finally got repaired. He had broken in the Saturday night that he’d caught Bill Call sitting out in his car watching her house, but he hadn’t felt like he could go snooping around. He’d just waited in the living room with its new blue velvet slip covers. The colors looked like the south of France, and it made him smile.
