A Different Kind of Forever

Chapter ELEVEN

QUINN CALLED HER Monday morning. “I’ve learned my lesson, Diane. I was out of line. Please, have dinner with me? Just dinner - I swear. It won’t happen again.”

“Do you know there’s a rumor going around about the two of us?” she asked accusingly.

“Rumor? Oh, I can imagine. University is just one big opportunity to gossip, isn’t it? Are they saying anything terribly naughty?”

“Quinn, Michael’s sister is on campus. Angela Bellini.”

“Oh. Blast, I’m sorry. Are you afraid she’ll report back to him you’ve been misbehaving?”

“No. It’s not that. I’m just - ” Her shoulder slumped. “I don’t know.”

“Well, you miss him, I’m sure,” Quinn said briskly. “When is he due back?”

“I don’t know, but I’m flying over there this weekend to see him.”

“Ah.” Quinn paused. “Well then, why on earth would you worry about any silly gossip? Please, have dinner. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to eat with the secretary of the Dean of Admissions again. The woman has been stalking me, I swear. Hovering outside my classroom at precisely three-fifty-six, asking what I’m doing after class. I feel positively threatened.”

She agreed, laughing, and they went out after his class, and later walked back to the train station, and she sat with him, waiting for his train, talking.

When she got home, it was still early, barely eight. Emily was upstairs, music blaring, and Megan and Becca Griffen were in the kitchen, bowls everywhere, obviously trying to bake something. Diane looked wearily at her kitchen.

“Why did you feel you had to do this so late, Meg? I’m not cleaning this up, okay? Becca, how could you let her rope you into this?”

“Well, she had dinner at my house, Mrs. M., but my mom said no dessert, and Megan said you wouldn’t care.” Becca grinned sheepishly. “It’s brownies. You can have some.”

Diane shook her head, and headed upstairs. She pounded on Emily’s door. The music stopped, and her daughter threw open her door.

“Gee, Mom, glad you could make it home. What was it tonight? Did you have emergency surgery to perform? Finding a cure for cancer? Rescuing some poor stranded kitten?”

Diane exhaled loudly through her mouth. “Emily, you have been a bitch on wheels for weeks now. Rachel told me that your father was taking care of the car situation. If that’s still why you’re so pissed off, please act out at his house, not mine.”

“Did you sleep with him here?” Emily asked angrily. Her dark eyes were blazing, her thin body tense.

Diane’s mouth dropped open. “What are you talking about?”

“Alison told me there was a car parked over here a lot this summer. Most times it was some junky old truck, but there was also a fancy silver car, she said. Her mom told her it was a gardening guy for your stupid roses.” Emily was breathing fast and heavy, and Diane forced herself to lean casually against the door jamb.

“Rachel told me all about it, you know.” Emily went on. “Tonight. She called, and I asked her about the Internet stuff. I didn’t believe it was you, but Rach said that it was, that you had a ‘relationship’ with him. Did you?”

“Yes,” Diane said calmly.

Emily’s jaw dropped open. “Oh. Oh, Mom.” Emily cast her eyes around the room. “I can’t believe it. Is that why you were so happy for us to spend the summer down the shore? So you and your ‘boyfriend’ could play house all summer?”

Diane kept her voice quiet and steady. “Emily, you asked to spend the summer with your father before I even met Michael. You asked me, remember?”

“How convenient for you, though. I bet you hated the idea of us coming back.” Emily’s voice was shrill and harsh. Diane could feel her daughter’s anger like a wave.

“Emily, I asked you all summer long to come back home to spend a few days. You’re the one who wanted to stay down there. I had to drive down to see you. Is any of this sounding familiar?”

“Did he come with you? When you drove down to Long Beach Island?”

Diane shook her head. “No. He was never with me. I wanted to spend the time with you, honey - you and Megan.”

“Where was he when we came up in July?”

“He went to Toronto. But if he hadn’t, he would not have been here. I would not have had him stay here when you girls were in the house.” Diane said emphatically.

“But when we weren’t here, did you sleep with him, Mother? In our house?”

“Michael and I are grown-ups, Emily,” Diane said quietly. “And what I choose to do in my own home is my own business.”

“Oh, that’s right. It’s Michael. You’re in that special little group, aren’t you? The ‘Call Me Michael’ group.” Emily spat out the words.

“He also asked you to call him that, Emily,” Diane reminded her, trying to keep her own rising anger at bay.

“I wonder if that meant he wanted to f*ck me too.”

Diane left the safety of the doorway and lunged toward her daughter. Emily scrambled back. Diane froze. Her voice was low and hoarse.

“You will not speak like that again in my house - ever. If you do, I will throw you into the street with nothing but the clothes on your back.” Diane was aware of movement behind her, and she turned quickly to find Megan and Becca in the doorway, eyes wide.

Diane swallowed hard, wondering how long the younger girls had been there. “Becca, you have to leave now,” Diane said. “I’m sorry. Megan, go down and watch her from the steps ‘till she’s at her house. It’s late. Go.” The girls scurried away. Diane turned back to Emily.

“I don’t know why you think you can treat me this way, Emily, but you can’t. I’m sure you’ve imagined that I’ve committed some hideous crime against you, but all I did was stay in the company of a man who came to mean a great deal to me. I never once let it touch you. It never interfered with my being a mother to you. You keep telling me how grown-up you are. Well, here’s your opportunity to prove it. You will stay in this room until you apologize. If that is unacceptable to you, call your father now and have him come and get you.”

Diane left the room, closing the door behind her. She stood in the tiny hallway, gulping air, hands to cheeks.

“God,” she whispered. “Oh, my God.”

She went quickly downstairs and into the kitchen, reaching with an unsteady hand for the vodka in the upper cabinet. She poured quickly into a juice glass and gulped it down. The panic in her stomach eased, but she was still shaking. She looked up. Megan had come into the kitchen and was standing quietly, her hands thrust into the pockets of her sweatshirt.

“Are you okay, Mom?” She asked shakily.

Diane nodded, and Megan crossed over to her, putting her arms around Diane and holding tightly. Diane stroked her head.

“You know Em,” Megan said, her voice muffled, “she’s just hard sometimes.”

“Yes, honey, I know. Emily is very hard.” Diane stared over Megan’s head.

The front door opened, and Diane ran from the kitchen, thinking that Emily may have run out. Instead, there stood Sue Griffen, her face pale.

“Meg, let me talk to your Mom, okay?” Sue asked quickly. Megan nodded and ran upstairs. Sue came over to Diane and gave her a quick hug around the shoulders.

“Becca told me. Are you okay?” Diane nodded. “Drink something,” Sue urged. Diane managed a weak smile.

“You give the best advice of anyone I know. I did have a drink. Now at least I don’t want to throw up. But I still want to hit something.”

Sue was looking at Diane anxiously. “What did you say to her?”

Diane said unsteadily, “I told her she had to apologize, and if she didn’t she could call her father.” And at that moment, the phone rang.

Diane let out a deep breath and answered. It was Kevin.

“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” he asked, concerned. “She’s hysterical. I’m supposed to come and get her because you’ve disowned her.”

“I have not. Oh, shit. Come and get her. I think she needs to be out of here for a few days, okay?”

Kevin sighed. “Okay. I’m on my way.”

Diane hung up and looked at Sue. Tears filled her eyes. “She’s going to stay at Kevin’s.”

Sue nodded and rubbed Diane’s back. “Yeah, kiddo, maybe it’s best for now. Emily just needs time, you know her. She’ll be back.”

Diane was nodding. “Yes, I know.”

Megan came running back down the stairs, sobbing. “Em says she’s leaving, Mom, stop her.”

Diane caught her daughter in her arms and held her, rocking her back and forth. “Just for a day or two, honey, don’t worry.” She kissed the top of her head

Sue rubbed the back of her neck. “Why don’t I make coffee?” She whispered. Diane nodded, and Sue went into the kitchen. Diane led Megan to the couch, and they sat together. Diane could hear a rattle of pans. Sue was cleaning.

“Megan, is it time for your brownies to come out?” Megan nodded. “Okay, honey, why don’t you go on in the kitchen, okay? Sue will help you.”

Megan stood up as headlights flashed into the driveway. She looked at her mother, and tears started in her eyes again. Sue came out, took Megan’s arm, and led her into the kitchen. Diane stood, waiting for Kevin.

He came through the front door, took one look at Diane, and put his arms around her gently. He patted her shoulders, then pushed her down onto a chair and sat on the coffee table across from her.

“Okay, tell me quick,” he said in a low voice.

“I was seeing somebody. I didn’t tell her, because she was with you all summer, and then he left, but she just found out. It’s complicated, Kevin. I’ll explain tomorrow. Just get her, okay?”

He looked at Diane sadly. “For a woman who’s tough enough to take on Tyson, why do you let her get to you so much? You know she pushes buttons. You know she’s out for blood.” He stood up. “Where’s Megan?”

Diane swallowed hard. “In the kitchen.”

Kevin took in a bushel of air and went into the kitchen. Sue came out a moment later, with a tray of coffee cups. She set them down and pushed a mug into Diane’s hands.

Diane shook her head. “I can’t drink caffeine this late,” she said automatically.

Sue looked disgusted. “Oh, right. Like you’re really going to sleep tonight. Drink up. You’re white as a ghost and your hands are freezing.” Sue took a sip of her own mug. “Megan seems okay, Diane, honest. She’s a level-headed kid.”

Diane sipped the coffee. Kevin and Megan came out and together went upstairs. Sue and Diane exchanged looks, and they sat together, drinking coffee until Kevin came back downstairs. He sat down heavily and picked up a coffee mug, spooned in sugar, and drank.

“Megan is helping her pack.” Kevin said. “At least she’s stopped crying.”

They sat and waited. Finally, Emily came slowly downstairs, dragging a duffel bag behind her. She stood at the front door, looking at the floor, not speaking. Kevin stood up, nodded to Diane, and walked Emily out of the house.

Sue stood up. “More coffee?” Diane nodded, and Sue went and brought back the pot. They drank another mug. Diane kept taking long, deep breaths. Sue hadn’t said anything. Megan came back downstairs, face red and blotchy, and sat down next to her mother.

“Why was she so angry?” she asked Diane.

“How much did you hear, Meg?”

Megan looked shamefaced. “All of it. We followed you upstairs. I knew she was mad about something. I didn’t know why, though.”

Diane lifted her shoulders and let them drop heavily. “I don’t know why either, honey. Maybe she thought I should have told you both about Michael long before this. I would have. When Michael came back, and when we started seeing each other again, I would have told you both.”

“I like Michael,” Megan said.

“Yeah. Me too. He’s a nice person.”

“Where did he go?”

“London,” Diane explained. “He’s writing music for a movie over there. He’ll be back in a couple of weeks.”

“Is he really your boyfriend?” Megan was looking interested now. Sue began to smile.

Diane chewed her lip. “Yes, honey, he’s my, ah, boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Megan nodded to herself. “Does this mean we’ll get to go to all the concerts?”

Sue ducked her head, hiding her grin. Diane smiled and nodded.

“Yes, honey, I guess if we want to.”

“That’s cool.” Megan stood up and kissed her mother’s cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.” She ran upstairs.

Sue gave Diane a quick smile. “Want me to stay?”

Diane shook her head tiredly. “No, but thank you for being here. Really.”

“No problem. Call me tomorrow.” Sue went to the front door. “I mean it.”

Diane waved her out, then fell back against the chair cushions, pressing her hands against her eyes. She sat, exhausted, until Jasper jumped onto her lap. She took her hands away, and pushed the cat off her lap. She walked into her kitchen. It was spotlessly clean, a single pan of brownies on the counter. Diane cut a square out of the corner of the pan, ate it, then ate three more pieces. Feeling slightly sick, she went into the den. The light on her answering machine was blinking. She played the message. It was Rachel, saying she had talked to Emily about Michael and Diane should call A.S.A.P. Diane looked at her watch. It was almost eleven. She’d call her tomorrow. Then she looked at her computer. A message from Michael - just a quick line. He had her tickets to London. She could confirm the reservation. She sat down and answered. She wouldn’t be able to make London after all. There were too many problems with her play. She’d have to wait for him to come home. She hit the send button and started to cry again.

Emily did not apologize. She did not come home. She texted Megan all day long, but Emily would not speak to her mother. Kevin, having heard the story from both Diane and Emily, threw up his hands. He would not interfere. He felt she owed Diane an apology, but if she refused, he could not force her. She could stay with him as long as she liked.

For the next few weeks, Diane lived under a cloud. Michael was still in London. She had tried to call him again, but the number he had given her had been disconnected. His cell phone, she knew, had vanished his second week in London. She was desperate to speak with him, but did not want to call one of his sisters to ask how to reach him. Angela continued to be cool and aloof. Diane knew why. She was spending too much time with Quinn.

He found reasons to be outside her office at the end of her day. He would offer to take her for a quick drink, which often ended with dinner. She was tense, excited and miserable, and he was a warm and a soothing shoulder for her to lean on. She was so grateful for his presence that she pushed aside their growing intimacy, the longer looks, the softer kiss good-night. Every time she left him, she thought about what her life would be like with him, and how different it would be from her life with Michael – calmer, more dignified, none of the burning passion, true, but still full and rich.

The Monday before the first performance, Quinn came by her office. He sat across from her and waited while she listened patiently on the phone to a student, and when she hung up she gave him a smile. She was thinner than she had been at the start of the term, and her hair, longer now, framed her face in shining waves. His fingers were beating a tattoo in the arm of his chair.

“I’d like to be your date Friday,” he began. “I’d be honored to sit by your side on your opening night. Unless you’ve heard from the mysterious Michael?”

Diane chewed her lip. “No, I haven’t heard from Michael. He hasn’t even e-mailed. I’m worried, actually.” She looked down at her desk and played with her pen. “I, ah, don’t know what to think about Michael at this point.”

“Oh? Well. Then why don’t you forget about him and marry me?”

Diane looked up at Quinn in disbelief.

“We’re quite well suited to each other. We have the same taste in books, music, that sort of thing. We can talk to each other about anything.” He leaned forward. “I’m not asking you on a whim, Diane. When I came to the States two years ago and met you for the first time, I thought, this is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.” Diane sat up straighter.

“It took me this long,” he continued, “to free myself of my marriage and get back here to find you again. I’m in love with you, Diane, terribly in love with you, and it’s been torture for me to sit by and watch you wait for this phantom lover of yours. Especially since things have been bloody awful for you for the past few weeks. The whole thing with Emily, wouldn’t it have been easier for you if he were here? Why the devil didn’t he fly from London the minute he knew about what was going on?”

Diane found her voice. “I never told him, Quinn. And even if he were right here, what could he have done? Nothing. When I have something that I need to deal with, I don’t want a cheerleader. It distracts me. I need to be able to concentrate on getting the job done.”

Quinn waved her words aside. “Besides, the whole problem with Emily is Michael, right?”

“I won’t have the willfulness of a child determine how I live my life,” Diane said hotly.

“Well, good for you. Are you telling me that if you had to choose between your daughter and this man, you’d send Emily packing?”

Diane said nothing.

“How about this - how long have you dreamed about writing a play and seeing it performed?”

Diane dropped her eyes back to her desk. “Since I was, oh, probably ten.”

“So, Friday’s a fairly important night for you? Where is Michael? He does know about Friday, doesn’t he?”

“Quinn, you said yourself that Prescott is crazy. Michael is drowning over there.”

“And he can’t get away for a day?”

Diane raised her eyes and looked at Quinn steadily. “I don’t love you, Quinn.”

He made a face. “You’ve got him locked in your brain right now. Do you remember two years ago? Do you remember how you felt about me then? We were in love with each other. Granted, it may have happened quickly, but it was real. It was the most important thing that had ever happened to me.”

“It was for me too,” Diane said quickly. “You know that.”

“Yes. I did know. All I could think about was what the two of us could be together. I’m not talking about sex, although I had been going mad thinking about that. But we could have been magnificent. You knew it then, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I thought about us for a long time. I used to dream about what we would be like together.” She took in a deep breath. “Michael changed me, Quinn. I don’t know if I can go back.”

“He hasn’t been around for months,” Quinn said.

“Eight weeks tomorrow,” Diane corrected automatically. She looked apologetic. “So, I’ve been counting.”

He put his fingertips together and tapped them against his upper lip. “Can I at least court you? Properly, that is. Give me a chance, Diane, a real chance. Let me touch you now and again without all those red flags going up.”

Diane smiled tiredly. “How special you are, Quinn. Court me. What a lovely phrase.” She covered her face with her hands, and took several deep breaths. “I need a little more time, Quinn,” she said at last. She dropped her hands. “Can we wait until after Friday? Please?”

He stood up and walked around to her side of the desk and pulled her up from her chair. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, long and deeply, and she kissed him back, pushing Michael away.

Quinn broke the kiss and looked at her tenderly. “I will wait until Friday. But I will be with you Friday night, unless you tell me otherwise, all right?”

She nodded, and Quinn left her office. Diane stood there, trying to sort things out inside her head. She walked out of her office and down the hall to Marianne. The secretary waved her in. Marianne was looking through a fat computer printout when Diane came in, closing the door behind her.

“What’s wrong?” Marianne asked. “Emily again?”

“No. Quinn just asked me to marry him.”

Marianne pushed aside the printout and looked at Diane incredulously. “He what?”

“Yes.” Diane walked over and sat down across from her friend. “Just now. He said we were well suited.”

Marianne shook her head. “You are so entertaining this year, I cannot begin to tell you. He’s right. You’re very well suited. You two make a terrific couple. There have been more than a few people making that observation.”

“Marianne, have you heard anything about Quinn and I?”

“Quinn and me,” Marianne corrected automatically. “Really, Diane. And yes, I’ve heard all sorts of things. Are you deaf as well as blind? Did this come as a surprise to you? Don’t you notice the way the man looks at you?”

“But, but, I told him,” Diane sputtered, “I told him about Michael. He said he understood.”

“So? He understood. That’s fine. But obviously it didn’t change his feelings toward you. Let’s look at this for a minute. He divorced his wife, and from what you’ve told me, it cost him dearly, and not just money-wise. He came back here for you. He finds you mooning over another man. Fine. But did you really think he was just going to shrug his shoulders and gave up? After all that? Good God, Diane, you amaze me. Are you really this stupid about men? I’ve never dealt with them as romantic partners, and I thank my good Lord every night for that, but even I’ve figured out the way they work.”

Diane slumped down in the chair. “So, now what do I do?”

“Do you want to marry him?”

“I’m not in love with him anymore.”

“But you were once. You were crazy to be with him.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“And with Michael you’ve always had, well, reservations.”

“I know,” Diane said miserably.

“Look, Diane,” Marianne said seriously, “I only want what’s best for you. And I know Michael is all you can see right now. But Quinn is a good man. He obviously loves you. He’s asked you to marry him. Has Michael?”

“You know he hasn’t,” Diane said miserably. “He hasn’t said a thing in weeks. I wish I knew what was going on with him.”

“So, call him.”

“I tried. The number I had is no longer working. He hasn’t answered my e-mails. God, I am so upset about this.”

“You’ve got enough to be upset about with Emily. I’d forget about Michael, Diane, unless he makes a serious comeback.”

Diane sighed. “Quinn is coming with me Friday night.”

“Well, that will certainly be a statement.”

“Yes, I suppose it will.”

“I’m so sorry, Diane,” Marianne said gently. “Michael was glorious.”

Diane stood up. “I have the final outline done, for the grad class. I’d like you to take a look.”

“Great. How about lunch tomorrow?”

“Fine. See you then.”

Kevin’s car was parked in Diane’s driveway when she came home. It was just after four, which meant Kevin had to have taken off early from work. Diane’s heart was in her throat. That was either a good thing, or a very bad thing.

Kevin was sitting at the dining room table, working at his laptop. He looked relieved as Diane came in.

“Emily’s upstairs.” he told her. “You’ll have to ask her to come back, and I think she might say no, but keep asking. She wants to be back here, okay?”

Diane nodded and walked upstairs slowly. Emily’s door was closed. Diane knocked once, and immediately Emily opened it. Diane folded her arms across her chest and waited.

“Mom, I’m sorry.” Emily said in a small voice. “I was really upset and I didn’t mean to say those things to you about Michael. You were right. If I’m supposed to be grown-up, I’ve got to stop being so selfish and stupid about stuff. I was mad ‘cause I thought he should like me better.” Emily had been looking at the floor, twisting her hands together. She looked up at her mother. “So, I apologize.”

Diane pressed her lips in a thin line. “Sit down, honey,” she said.

Emily sat on her bed, legs crossed Indian-style. Diane stood over her, arms still folded.

“If I see Michael, again, will there be a problem?”

Emily shrugged. “No. I wouldn’t like it if you hated my boyfriend, so I’ll be fine. Really.”

“Oh, great. So you’ve just guilted me out of all objections to any future boyfriends you may have in this life and the next, is that it?”

Emily’s mouth twitched. “No, Mom.” Pause. “So you’ll be seeing him again? Megan said he was in London.”

“Yes. He’s in London. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

“Oh.” Emily looked up shyly. “Did you go to his house?”

Diane sat down next to her on the bed. “Yes, I’ve been to his house.”

“What’s it like?”

“Long. Elegant. He has very sleek furniture, no knick-knacks. He lives on a lake and it’s beautiful. He has a studio, with a glassed-off sound booth, and all this ridiculously sophisticated equipment. He collects Japanese art.”

“You like Japanese art,” Emily said.

“Yes. We have lots of things in common.”

“Is he really in love with you?”

“Yes, honey, he really is.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“Yes. I am. I wasn’t sure, for a long time, if I was or not. But I do love him. Very much.”

Emily looked at her mother sideways. “Are you going to get married?”

“Honey, I don’t think I want to get married again.”

“Can we go to the Grammys?”

“What?”

“The Grammy Awards. Do you think we can go?”

Diane bit back laughter. “I don’t know, honey. Why don’t we wait on that one?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Diane took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I should have told you from the beginning, but I was afraid you’d have, uh, expectations, and I wasn’t sure we were going to last. I was going to wait for him to come back, invite him over, and just kind of let you get used to the idea. It was a mistake. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to find out about this over the Web.” Diane gave her a hug. “Are you ready to come home? Rachel is coming in early on Friday, and we were all going to get dressed together and see the play. Stay here. You’ll be back at your fathers’ that night anyway. Stay and see the play with us.”

Emily shrugged again. “Yeah, okay, that sounds like fun”

Diane exhaled silently. “Okay, then. I’ll tell your Dad.” She went downstairs, thanking the gods. Kevin was packing his briefcase.

“She’s staying.” She hugged her ex-husband tightly. ‘Thank you so much. I don’t know what you did or said, but thank you.”

Kevin kissed her forehead affectionately. “I didn’t do anything. Really. I think she just figured it out for herself.” He shrugged into his jacket. “This guy she was talking about.” He looked at her with interest. “He’s in a rock band? I mean, I don’t care who you date, you know that. And I want you to be happy, Diane, I really do. But how old is this guy?”

“About three years younger than your wife,” Diane said dryly. Kevin had the grace to color slightly.

“Well, I hope he’s worth it. I know what these past few weeks have cost you. I’ll bring the rest of her stuff tomorrow. And I’m seeing your play on Friday. I’ll take the girls with me from there. Break a leg, or whatever.”

“Thanks again.” Diane closed the door behind him. Megan would be home from Becca’s soon. It was time to make dinner. Emily was back home. Quinn had proposed. All in all, a good day’s work.

Friday afternoon, Diane raced home to get ready for her play. Rachel was waiting for her as Diane emerged from her shower. Her daughter was wearing a long, flowing dress, obviously vintage. Diane looked at her suspiciously.

“I think I wore that same dress in 1986. To a fraternity dance.” Diane said slowly.

Rachel looked shocked. “You went to a fraternity dance?” she asked, horrified.

Diane shrugged. “Hey, times were different then. It was free beer. You look terrific.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “So, what are you wearing? I hope you bought something incredible for your premier.”

Diane pulled out a black pants suit, the jacket cut to look like a man’s tuxedo, the pants wide and comfortable. Rachel examined the outfit critically.

“Are you at least wearing hot lacy underwear underneath?” she asked at last.

Diane’s shoulders slumped. “Rach, why would it matter what I was wearing underneath?”

“Mom,” she explained patiently. “You are about to become a playwright. This is big. Exciting. You need to dress as though you can take on the world. You’re going to look like a maitre’d at a lesbian nightclub in this outfit. You should at least have exciting underwear. And spiky, sexy shoes. Besides,” she asked casually, “isn’t Michael going to be here?”

Diane shook out the pants carefully without looking at her. “I haven’t heard from Michael in weeks.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Me too. Actually, I was thinking about socks and sneakers, but I think maybe just plain black flats. I am going to be an absolute wreck tonight, I know it. The least I can do is be comfortable.”

Rachel was shaking her head. “Mom, how boring. Wait, what about your hair? I brought my chopsticks. We can put your hair into a French twist. You’ll look amazing.” Rachel started combing out her mother’s hair, pulling it tight.

“Listen, Rachel,” Diane said, “About tonight. You’ll be sitting with your dad, right?”

“Yeah.” Rachel twisted up Diane’s hair and stuck in one of the chopsticks. They were standing in front of her dresser. Diane met her daughter’s eyes in the mirror.

“What’s going on, Mom?”

“Well, Quinn Harris is kind of my date.”

Rachel worked another chopstick through Diane’s hair, then put in some hair pins. She pulled a few strands of hair around her mother’s face. When she was done, she kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful, Mom. I just want you to be happy, okay? Quinn is a neat guy, really. I like him a lot. If he’s here for you, that’s what really counts, you know?”

Diane nodded. She felt strong, glamorous. She got dressed and went out into the living room, where Emily and Megan applauded as Diane spun around, balancing on the tips of her shoes. There were roses in the living room, a massive bouquet from Quinn. She picked one, snapped the stem, and pinned it carefully to her satin lapel, then they all piled into the Subaru and drove off to Merriweather.

The curtain went up at 7:30. By ten after eight, Diane knew they were a success. The crowd laughed in all the right places, listened carefully when the dialog was serious, and half a dozen times had burst into applause. By the intermission, she was on cloud nine.

Quinn was right there, his arm tight around her waist, pushing her through the crowd in the lobby. He left her side only to bring them champagne from the tiny bar. He was incredibly proud of her, and of her obvious triumph. Sam French was ecstatic. He came running from backstage to kiss Diane repeatedly on both cheeks.

“What do you think, Quinn?” Sam asked, “Are we going places, or what?”

Quinn smiled and drew Diane closer. “There are some people here who are going to want to talk to you both,” he said. “Sam Levinson from the New School has already given me the high sign. Make sure you see him after the curtain.”

Sam flittered away, and Diane leaned against Quinn. Her daughters were coming toward her, happy and excited.

“Mom, this is so cool,” Megan said.

“Yes, it is. How do you like it so far?”

Rachel was beaming. “It’s funny, Mom. The people here are loving it. Congratulations.”

The lights blinked. The second act was beginning. They filed back in, and the rest of the show went off beautifully. After the final curtain, Sam French came on stage for a bow, and called up Diane. She ran up the steps of the stage, heart pounding, and her eyes blurred with tears as the audience rose to their feet. She beamed, bowed, and saw Quinn in the third row, smiling and applauding.

Afterwards, the crowd lingered in the lobby, where a long table of champagne glasses and hors de oeuvres was set up. Diane was bowled over by the response of the audience. Quinn stayed beside her as people she had never seen before told her how wonderful she was, how talented, how much they had enjoyed the evening.

Diane didn’t need alcohol to feel drunk. She was giddy with power and triumph. Every nerve was alive, every sense heightened. Quinn was more than a shadow behind her. She could feel every touch of his hand, every movement of his against her skin. She looked into his eyes and saw openly, for the first time, desire. Something akin in her answered. This is why, she thought fleetingly, men must make love after war, why victory must be answered with sex. She wanted Michael so badly the ache in her groin felt like a lead weight. Every time she turned and saw Quinn, his green eyes alive and smoldering, she felt her throat tighten.

It was midnight before the crowd thinned. Her daughters all had kissed her goodbye. Faculty and friends were beginning to leave. The cast had joined them from changing backstage and there began a serious discussion of the show, the mistakes, the triumphs. The press was still there, and a few other theater people, including Sam Levinson who began to talk to Diane about bringing her play to the New School, just as a round table reading at first, but after that, who knew?

She had turned away from Levinson for a moment, and saw, just through the glass doors that opened to the courtyard, a figure standing, backlit by the lampposts outside. A man, his breath a cloud in the cold October air. Diane knew the set of his shoulders, the tilt of his head.

“Michael.” She said his name aloud, in disbelief. The night was wide and black behind him. He was wearing a black leather coat, long, almost to the ground. His hair spilled over his collar, and his face was white, haggard. He stared at her, saw her mouth frame his name. He did not smile or move toward her. He stood. Watching.

“Michael,” Diane said again, her eyes not leaving Michael’s face. Levinson said something, and she looked at him, her face frozen. “I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.” She smiled automatically. Beyond Levinson she could see Quinn, talking to someone, glancing at her, smiling, turning away. Diane looked back to Michael, but he was gone. Her eyes searched frantically, and she went across the lobby and pushed the heavy glass doors open, running out into the courtyard. She caught a flash of black and saw him, in the dimly lit building across from her, walking down an empty corridor. She ran after him, through the doors and down the hallway. Her shoes echoed against the tile floor as she half-ran into the semi-darkness. She drew a deep breath. The hallway was empty.

“Michael?”

He stepped out from a doorway, and she ran to him, heart pounding. As he caught her his mouth took hers, and everything melted away, all the weeks of darkness and loneliness. He pushed her against the slick wood of the door, and he was cold, the rough cotton of his sweater, the leather coat, but her hands were beneath his clothes, and his skin was hot and smooth.

“Michael, where were you?” She whispered roughly, hoarse with wanting. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His eyes were close, burning. “I didn’t know if I’d make it.” His voice was strained. “I literally ran to the airport in London. I called Angela from the plane and had her leave her ticket for me at the window. I didn’t want to tell you. I wanted to surprise you.” His hands were on her face, tracing the line of her lips, smoothing back her hair from her forehead. “God, I missed you so much,” he murmured, burying his face into the soft of her hair.

She reached for the doorknob and turned, the door fell open, and she pulled him inside. He pushed the door shut, and reached under her clothes. He had her tight against the wall and the zipper of her pants slid open and his hands pushed her clothing away and it fell, down around her feet, and she stepped out of them to wrap her leg around his hip. She could feel him, stiff beneath his jeans, hard against her. They were silent, frantic, and her fingers fumbled as she released him, sweetly alive in her hands. His breath was ragged, their mouths locked together. Then he gripped her around her waist and lifted her, her legs came around him as he plunged into her, and a cry leapt from her, and in seconds she was coming, biting the leather shoulder of his coat. He was making a noise, deep, guttural, as he pushed her against the rough cinderblock wall, and he climaxed suddenly, a hard, violent shudder. They leaned against each other, breathing harsh and unsteady, and Diane loosened her legs and her feet touched the hard tile floor, and as she tightened her arms around his neck, she felt the warm stickiness of him trickle down the inside of her leg.

The only light in the room came through the open blinds at the window, a streetlight, and she strained to see his face. She kissed his lips, and felt tears on his cheeks.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice shaking. “Did I?”

“No. Oh Michael, no.” She kissed him again, her lips against his mouth.

“The play was wonderful,” he whispered. “It was so great, they loved it. I am so proud of you. I was afraid I’d miss the curtain. I raced over from Kennedy. I almost didn’t make it.”

She pushed his head away, trying to see into his eyes. “You saw the play?” she asked. “You were here all along? Michael, why didn’t you find me? At intermission? I’ve been out there, all this time, talking to all those people, and you didn’t try to find me?”

He stepped away from her then, and she felt the cold air rush in against her bare skin.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were here, Michael?”

She could see him in the pale light, not his face, but the shrug of his shoulders.

“You were busy,” he said quietly, and he turned away from her, out through the door.

She leaned back against the wall, stunned and frightened. He was leaving. She bent down and felt for her clothes, pulling them up, and she ran out after him. She felt her hair falling around her face, and she pulled out Rachel’s chopsticks, flinging away the hair pins as she ran down the hall. He was at the glass doors, going back outside into the courtyard, and she followed, fear crowding with sudden anger. How could he leave?

She pushed through the glass doors after him, running, and called his name sharply. He stopped and turned, and a breeze caught his coat and it billowed around him, and the light behind him threw his face into sharp relief. He looked dark and beautiful, a fallen archangel, and her heart leapt to her throat, but she was angry now, wounded and afraid, and she stopped within a foot of him, her body shivering in the sudden cold.

“What the hell was that?” she lashed out. “Is that what you flew all the way over here for? Couldn’t you find anybody to f*ck while you were in England?”

“No,” he shot back, “but apparently you could.”

“What?” She was incredulous. “What did you say?”

She heard her name, and she glanced away from Michael to see Quinn, running toward her.

“Diane. Are you all right?” As he reached her, he took her by the shoulders, his hands gentle as they touched her face, pushing away her tousled hair. “You look a fright. Are you hurt? What happened?” He turned to Michael, angry, challenging. “Who the bloody hell are you?”

Michael pushed his hands into the pockets of his coat and squared his shoulders.

“I’m Michael.”

Quinn looked back at Diane, saw the flushed cheeks, the wildness in her eye, and he knew, in that moment, that he had lost her.

“Ah. Well.” He took a deep breath. “Diane, Levinson wants to know. Next summer? Will that be all right with you?”

Diane nodded.

“Fine. I’ll tell him. There are some people back there, though, you should say good-bye to.”

“I know, Quinn. I will. Just give me a minute, okay?”

“Yes.” He looked at her, shivering, her teeth beginning to chatter from the cold. “Look, take my jacket –“

“No, Quinn.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself. “I’m fine.”

He turned and walked quickly back into the building. Diane watched him go, and heard Michael’s voice, cold and calm.

“Well, isn’t he protective?”

She turned to him. His face had closed down, click, a blank page.

“The tabloids in London were full of you two. They ran an item about the great Quinn Harris at a theater on 13th Street. You took him to see Rachel, didn’t you? They didn’t know who you were. Then there was a dinner, for Derek Shore. They had a picture. They still didn’t know who you were. They said you were the woman Quinn Harris was kissing at two in the morning in the lobby of the Pierre Hotel. They said you were the reason he wasn’t spending his time in Manhattan, working on his play. I didn’t believe it. Angela told me all the rumors, but she said you denied everything. I believed you, of course. Even after you told me you couldn’t come to England, I believed you.”

She could see his eyes, dark and full of pain, and her mind became suddenly clear. The tears that had been threatening were gone.

“But I saw you.” His voice was tight, controlled. “At intermission. After the show. I watched you. He couldn’t keep his hands off you, could he?”

“I couldn’t come to England because of Emily,” Diane said calmly. “She found out about us. She was so angry. She said terrible things. Then she left. She stayed at Kevin’s. I couldn’t leave, Michael. I couldn’t.”

His jaw moved, clenched. “What about Harris?”

“Quinn asked me to marry him. He said we would be good together. He said we wanted the same things. He said he loved me.”

Michael’s voice was deathly quiet. “What did you say?”

She took a step toward him. She could feel him, the heat and energy from his body, and it soaked into her skin, pulling her. “I told him that I didn’t love him. I love you. Michael.” She took another step, and she was against him, and her arms crept around him, under the leather of his coat, and she felt him flinch, as though she had struck him.

“I love you, Michael.” she said again. His eyes closed, and his arms tightened around her, and she could feel the tension and anger and fear leave his body.

“I should have told you,” she whispered. “I never should have let you go all the way to England without knowing. I’m sorry.” She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “I didn’t realize until after you were gone. All I could do was wait for you to come back, and hope you hadn’t found somebody else.”

“Somebody else?” He asked in quiet amazement. “How could there be anyone else?”

“Because you were over there, and it was terrible and you were all alone, and you didn’t know, Michael, that I loved you. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you couldn’t wait for me.”

“Wait for you? I love you. And I will love you forever, Diane. Your loving me or not won’t change that. Your being with me or not won’t change it. Nothing will change that.”

“Oh, thank God. I’ve been so unhappy without you. Please, don’t leave again. There is so much I need to tell you. Are you home for good? Please say you’re home.”

He shook his head. “No. I’m flying back tomorrow. For another week. It’s such a long story. Listen.” He kissed her, hard. “You have to go back. There are people in there who can help you, right? Help with your play? I know how this business works. Go back in there and play nice. Those people are your future, you know?”

“No, they aren’t. My future is right here. But you’re right. I have to say good-bye to people. To Quinn.”

“I’ll be at the house. I’ve still got the key. Take your time, okay? I’ll wait for you.” He kissed her again. “I’ll wait.”

“Yes. Give me a few minutes, but I’ll be there.” She pulled herself away from him and walked back into the lights and noise, smoothing her hair. People turned and smiled and reached for her. She answered automatically, saying the right things. Quinn was back at her side, not touching her. And when she finally said good night, he held her coat for her and walked her out across the parking lot, standing beside her in the cold.

“So, I suppose you’re quite sure about all this?” He asked her.

She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. “I love him. Ever since I met him, I’ve been trying to talk myself out of this. Really. But in spite my best arguments, I want to be with him. Everything just feels so much better when I’m with him. So, yes, I’m sure.”

“I thought that I was the one,” he said.

“You could have been. If I hadn’t met him, you would have been. You’re a wonderful man, Quinn. I’m so sorry.”

Quinn hugged her gently and kissed the top of her head. “If you need anything, you’ll call me, right?”

She nodded, feeling a sudden sadness.

“I know. Thank you, Quinn.” And with that, she got into her car and drove home to Michael.

He was asleep when she got home. The black leather coat was a lump on the floor, and his shoes were in the hallway. He was stretched out on her bed, fully clothed, sound asleep. She undressed carefully, pulled on flannel pajamas, and covered him with an old quilt from the closet. Then she unplugged the phone beside the bed and crawled next to him, curling her body next to his. She was exhausted, but she lay there quiet, happy, listening to the sound of his breathing, feeling the heat of his body next to hers.

She awoke late, slid from his side, and padded into the kitchen. She made coffee, and picked up the phone. She called Rachel. Then she called Sam French to tell him she would not meet him for lunch. Sam was still flying high and told her they didn’t need to meet at all, that last night’s performance had been perfect, and he would see her that evening. She took her coffee back into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, watching Michael as he slept.

He finally opened his eyes, blinking against the sunlight. “How long have you been sitting here?” he asked groggily.

“A while. Coffee?”

“God, yes.”

“Food?”

“Toast. Please.”

She nodded, and went back to the kitchen. She was spreading butter as he came down the hall from the bathroom, and she carried the tray into the living room. She sat beside him and he kissed her.

“I tried to call you,” she said softly.

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “Seth changed the number because too many people had gotten hold of it. He never told me, of course. Then I gave my password to someone, she said she’d help with some of my business stuff, but I found out she was, ah, editing my e-mail. And after you said you couldn’t fly over, I thought – “ He stopped and shook his head again. “What about Emily?” he asked.

She told him, about Emily, Megan, and Quinn. The phone rang once or twice, but she did not answer it. At one point she crawled into his lap and he held her and she told him about Levinson and his plans for her play. The words came in a flood, everything she had been holding and saving just for him.

“Now you,” she said finally. “Tell me. Tell me everything you did while you were gone.”

He started with Seth, and Jane Whyte. He told her about the movie, it would be released in December as planned. They were done with the score, but there was an additional song for the soundtrack, another ballad he had written, and he had to finish recording. He was going back. He’d be home for good in a week.

She was quiet in his arms. “I love you very much,” she said. “Did I tell you that?” She looked at him, and he was smiling, eyes blazing with happiness.

“Yes, you mentioned it.”

“It wasn’t until after you left. I was so miserable, and I couldn’t figure out why. My life was the same, the girls, my job, everything. And then I remembered what you said, about having a place to belong. That’s what was wrong. You weren’t here, and I had nowhere that was just mine, no place to be happy. That’s when I knew I loved you. Because I knew that I belonged with you.”

He kissed her. “Then what are we going to do?” He asked.

“I guess you’ll come for dinner. We’ll talk to Megan and Emily. We’ll tell them how we feel. We’ll see each other as often as we can. We’ll spend every weekend together. We won’t be apart any more than we have to.”

“Is Emily going to be okay with that?”

“I think she has big plans for you. Megan too. Be warned. And don’t say yes to anything.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Would you consider moving up to Mendham?”

She sat for a long time, then shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t live with you. I wouldn’t feel right, with the girls.”

He nodded. “Can we go away somewhere?” He asked her. “We have serious catching up to do.”

“I know. I can’t believe you’re leaving again. I’ll talk to Marianne. I’ve got days coming. We could get a long weekend, maybe. Someplace warm - just the two of us?”

“Yes. I need a long, quiet rest. I feel one hundred years old. And I’ve missed you so badly I thought I would lose my mind. I need days in bed.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Could we start now? Do you have anyplace you’re supposed to be? I need you, you have no idea.” He kissed her roughly. “Can we go back to bed? Please. I need to make love to you. It’s going to be the longest week of my life, waiting to get back to you this time.”

“Come on.”

They undressed. She was thinner, he thought, but her breasts were still full and lush, and as he slipped into her, her legs were still strong around him. He would not rush, moving slowly as she arched against him, her hands in his hair.

“I love you,” he whispered at last.

“I know,” she whispered back, “I love you too.”