“Why not?” He looked confused.
“I may be crazy, but if I ever get married again, I want to fall in love.”
“You're not a child anymore, and you have responsibilities to think of.” He was asking her to sell herself into slavery, so she could send Will to Harvard. She would rather have sent him to City College. She wasn't willing to sell her soul to a man she didn't love, even for her kids. “I think you should reconsider.”
“I think you're wonderful, and I don't deserve you,” she said, standing up, as she realized that years of friendship and his handling their affairs had just been flushed down the toilet.
“That may be true,” he said, yanking on the chain as hard as he could, as she heard a flushing sound in her head. “But I still want to marry you.”
“I don't,” she said, looking at him. She had never realized it before, but he was more insensitive and domineering than she'd realized over the years, and cared far more about what he felt than what she did, which was probably why he wasn't married. Having made his decision, he thought she should do as she was told, which was not how she wanted to spend the rest of her life. Doing as she was told by a man she didn't love. The way he had proposed seemed more of an insult than a compliment, and showed a lack of respect. “And by the way,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him, as she dropped her napkin on the chair, “you're fired, Jack.” And with that, she turned around and walked out.
Chapter 22
The house sold in December, finally. Just before Christmas, of course. So they had one more Christmas in the living room, with their tree beneath the magical Viennese chandelier. It seemed fitting somehow, and was the end of a tough year for all of them. And she still didn't have a job, but she was looking. She was trying to get a job as a secretary that would be part time enough to let her leave to pick Ashley and Sam up at school. As long as they were still at home, she wanted to be there for them too. Although she knew other mothers managed with sitters and day care and latchkey kids, if she could help it, she didn't want to. She still wanted to be with her kids, as much as she could.
She had a lot of decisions to make once the house sold. A couple bought it who were moving out from New York, and the realtor explained surreptitiously that he had made an enormous fortune. Fernanda nodded, and said that was nice. For as long as it lasted, she thought to herself. In the last year, she had had constant lessons about what was important. After Sam's kidnapping, she no longer had any question. Her kids mattered. The rest didn't. And money, to whatever degree, was unimportant to her, except to feed her children.
She had been planning to strip the house, and sell whatever she could at auction. But as it turned out, the buyers loved everything she had and paid a huge premium for it, over and above the price of the house. The wife thought she had terrific taste. So it worked out well for all involved.
She and the children moved out in January. Ashley cried. Sam looked sad. And as always these days, Will was an enormous help to his mother. He carried boxes, loaded things, and he was with her the day she found the new house. She actually had enough left over to buy something small, and put a hefty mortgage on it, after the sale of the house. The house she found in Marin was exactly what she wanted. It was in Sausalito, high up on a hill, with a view of sailboats, the bay, Angel Island, and Belvedere. It was peaceful and cozy and unpretentious and pretty. And the children loved it when they saw it. She decided to put Ashley and Sam in public school in Marin, and Will was going to commute for the remaining months of school until he graduated. Two weeks after they moved into the house, she found a job, as curator of a gallery five minutes from her house. They had no problem with her leaving at three every day. The salary was small, but at least the money was consistent. And by then she had a new lawyer, a woman. Jack was still deeply offended by her refusing his proposal. And sometimes, when she thought of it, she thought it was both sad and funny. He had seemed so incredibly pompous when he asked her. She had never seen that side of him before.
What didn't seem funny to her, and never would, was the memory of the kidnapping the previous summer. She still had nightmares about it. It seemed surreal to her, and it was one of the many things she didn't mind about leaving their old house. She could never sleep in it again without an overwhelming feeling of panic that something terrible was about to happen. She slept better in Sausalito. And she hadn't heard from Ted since the previous September. It had been four months. He called her finally in March. The trial of Malcolm Stark and Jim Free had been set for April. It had already been postponed twice, and Ted said it wouldn't be again.
“We're going to need Sam to testify,” he said awkwardly after asking her how she had been. He had thought of her often, but never called, in spite of Rick Holmquist urging him to do so.
“I worry about it being traumatic for him,” Ted said quietly.
“So do I,” Fernanda agreed. It was strange thinking of him now. He had been woven into that hideous experience, almost a part of it, yet not. Her feeling that way was what he had been afraid of, and part of why he had never called. He was sure he would remind them all of the kidnapping. Rick Holmquist told him he was nuts. “He'll get through it,” she said, talking about Sam again.
“How is he?”
“Terrific. It's like it never happened. He's going to a new school, and so is Ash. I think that was good for them. Kind of a fresh start.”
“I see you have a new address.”
“I love my new house,” she confessed with a grin, which he could hear in her voice. “I'm working in a gallery five minutes from home. You should come and see us sometime.”
“I will,” he promised, but she didn't hear from him again until three days before the trial. He called to tell her where to bring him, and when she told Sam, he cried.
“I don't want to do it. I don't want to see them again.” Neither did she. But it had been worse for him. She called the trauma therapist, and she and Sam went in. They talked about his being unable to testify, or it being unwise for him. But in the end, he said he would, and the therapist thought it might give him closure. Fernanda was far more afraid it would give him nightmares. He already had closure. Two of the men were dead, including the one who had helped him escape. And two were in prison. It was enough closure for her, and she thought for Sam too. But she showed up at the Hall of Justice with Sam on the appointed day, with a feeling of trepidation. Sam had had a stomachache after breakfast that day, and so did she.
Ted was waiting for her outside the building. He looked just the same as the last time she'd seen him. Calm, and nicely dressed, well groomed, intelligent, and concerned about how Sam was feeling.
“How's it going, Deputy?” He smiled down at Sam, who was visibly unhappy.
“I feel like throwing up.”
“That's not so good. Let's talk about it for a minute. How come?”
“I'm scared they'll hurt me,” he said bluntly. It made sense. They had before.
“I'm not going to let that happen.” He unbuttoned his jacket, flashed it open for a second, and Sam saw his gun. “There's that, and besides they'll be in court in leg irons and shackles. They're all tied up.”
“They tied me up too,” Sam said miserably, and started to cry. At least he was talking about it. But Fernanda felt sick and looked at Ted, and he looked as unhappy as she did, and then he had an idea. He told them to go across the street for something to drink, and he'd be back as soon as he could.
It took him twenty minutes. He had met with the judge, the public defender, and the prosecutor, and all had agreed. Sam and his mother were going to be interrogated in the judge's chambers, with the jury present, but not the defendants. He never had to see either of the two men again. He could identify them from pictures. Ted had insisted that it was too traumatic for the boy to testify in the courtroom and see his kidnappers again. And when he told Sam, he beamed, and Fernanda heaved a sigh of relief.