shock waves undulate through her body and she turned safely away, dropping tiredly to her chair once again. "Oh, Tommy Lee, how can you say such a thing?"
"So you'd rather have had the lie."
"But you were married to somebody else." It made her feel guilty in some obscure way.
He laughed ruefully. "Yes, one of the three."
"You say that as if you didn't love any of them."
"There were times when I thought I did." Suddenly he wilted, ran a hand through his hair and breathed, "Hell, I don't know." He reached into his breast pocket, came up with a cigarette and lighter, and dipped his head as the two joined. When the cigarette was burning, Tommy Lee poured a fresh drink without asking Rachel's permission, disappeared into the living room, and returned with the crystal ashtray, then took up his
post with hips and hands braced against the edge of the counter.
When her eyes again confronted him, there was a hint of censure about her puckered brows. "Tommy Lee, how can you be so ... so blithe about it? You conceived children with two different women. How could you have done that if you weren't sure you loved them?"
He took a long, thoughtful drag, then a long, thoughtful drink. "Who knows why children are conceived?" he asked ruminatively, then admitted, "I can't really say there ever was much discussion about whether or not Rosamond and I should have had the two boys. What else do you do when you've graduated from college? You find some girl to marry and settle down with, and babies just naturally follow."
"You mean you ... you never wanted them?" She sounded shocked.
"Maybe we never should have wanted them. Roz and I ..." He studied his smoking cigarette with a faraway expression in his eyes. "We got married for all the wrong reasons. Maybe subconsciously we thought that having the boys would pull us together. But it didn't. It was a poor
excuse, and the boys are the ones who paid for 93 it." He studied his crossed ankles as he ended quietly, "They're both sorry."
"Sorry?"
He looked up. "Rebellious, troublemakers, in and out of scrapes with school, the law, you name it. Not exactly all-American boys."
"Oh, Tommy Lee, I'm so sorry."
He half turned, stubbing out his cigarette. "Yeah, well, don't be. It was Roz's fault and mine, not yours. Maybe if we'd loved each other more we would have been better parents and raised better kids. I don't know."
"And they live with her?"
He nodded. "In Mobile."
"Do you ever see them?"
"As little as possible. When we're in the same room you can see the sparks in the air."
"Do they write to you?"
He lifted sad eyes to her. "When they need money. Then good ol' dad gets a letter."
Her heart melted with pity. He looked lonely and defeated, and she wondered if losing a child the way he had wasn't more devastating than
giving one up for adoption.
"And what about ... Beth?" The name was difficult for Rachel to say.
He smiled ruefully, shook his head, then crossed to take the chair opposite Rachel, dropped an ankle over a knee, and drew circles on the white Formica with the bottom of his glass. "Beth is hovering on the brink. I'm not sure yet which way she'll go. She and her mother don't get along and I'm out of the picture."
"You had her with your second wife."
It struck Tommy Lee that Rachel had kept close tabs, indeed, but for the moment he answered her non-question by going on, "Yes, my second wife, Nancy. Do you know why I married Nancy?" His glass made dull murmurs on the tabletop. When she looked from it to his face, she found his eyes on the giraffe at her throat. They moved up and locked with hers as he admitted quietly, "Because the first time I saw her, she reminded me of you. Her hair was the same color as yours, and her mouth was a lot the same. And when she laughed, there was always that little half-hiccup at the end, just like you do."
The pause that followed was anything but comfortable for
Rachel. She was embarrassed, yet
"So you'd rather have had the lie."
"But you were married to somebody else." It made her feel guilty in some obscure way.
He laughed ruefully. "Yes, one of the three."
"You say that as if you didn't love any of them."
"There were times when I thought I did." Suddenly he wilted, ran a hand through his hair and breathed, "Hell, I don't know." He reached into his breast pocket, came up with a cigarette and lighter, and dipped his head as the two joined. When the cigarette was burning, Tommy Lee poured a fresh drink without asking Rachel's permission, disappeared into the living room, and returned with the crystal ashtray, then took up his
post with hips and hands braced against the edge of the counter.
When her eyes again confronted him, there was a hint of censure about her puckered brows. "Tommy Lee, how can you be so ... so blithe about it? You conceived children with two different women. How could you have done that if you weren't sure you loved them?"
He took a long, thoughtful drag, then a long, thoughtful drink. "Who knows why children are conceived?" he asked ruminatively, then admitted, "I can't really say there ever was much discussion about whether or not Rosamond and I should have had the two boys. What else do you do when you've graduated from college? You find some girl to marry and settle down with, and babies just naturally follow."
"You mean you ... you never wanted them?" She sounded shocked.
"Maybe we never should have wanted them. Roz and I ..." He studied his smoking cigarette with a faraway expression in his eyes. "We got married for all the wrong reasons. Maybe subconsciously we thought that having the boys would pull us together. But it didn't. It was a poor
excuse, and the boys are the ones who paid for 93 it." He studied his crossed ankles as he ended quietly, "They're both sorry."
"Sorry?"
He looked up. "Rebellious, troublemakers, in and out of scrapes with school, the law, you name it. Not exactly all-American boys."
"Oh, Tommy Lee, I'm so sorry."
He half turned, stubbing out his cigarette. "Yeah, well, don't be. It was Roz's fault and mine, not yours. Maybe if we'd loved each other more we would have been better parents and raised better kids. I don't know."
"And they live with her?"
He nodded. "In Mobile."
"Do you ever see them?"
"As little as possible. When we're in the same room you can see the sparks in the air."
"Do they write to you?"
He lifted sad eyes to her. "When they need money. Then good ol' dad gets a letter."
Her heart melted with pity. He looked lonely and defeated, and she wondered if losing a child the way he had wasn't more devastating than
giving one up for adoption.
"And what about ... Beth?" The name was difficult for Rachel to say.
He smiled ruefully, shook his head, then crossed to take the chair opposite Rachel, dropped an ankle over a knee, and drew circles on the white Formica with the bottom of his glass. "Beth is hovering on the brink. I'm not sure yet which way she'll go. She and her mother don't get along and I'm out of the picture."
"You had her with your second wife."
It struck Tommy Lee that Rachel had kept close tabs, indeed, but for the moment he answered her non-question by going on, "Yes, my second wife, Nancy. Do you know why I married Nancy?" His glass made dull murmurs on the tabletop. When she looked from it to his face, she found his eyes on the giraffe at her throat. They moved up and locked with hers as he admitted quietly, "Because the first time I saw her, she reminded me of you. Her hair was the same color as yours, and her mouth was a lot the same. And when she laughed, there was always that little half-hiccup at the end, just like you do."
The pause that followed was anything but comfortable for
Rachel. She was embarrassed, yet
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