But Faith being Faith she still won’t relent. I can’t see why she’s so hostile. After all, she’s engaged to marry some tycoon from San Francisco (good luck to the poor bastard).
In my longing to get the kids back, I’ve thought of getting married again. But I haven’t met anyone who makes me confident enough to risk a second plunge.
Ted told me on the phone that though it hurt, he imagined it was for the best. He doesn’t know how wrong he is.
It’s not just that he’s lost a wife. And not just that he’s lost his son — which I can promise is for sure.
He’s lost the only thing that gives some sense to all the other things we do in life.
It was late January 1973. George Keller stood on the steps outside the Georgetown Law Center.
At the stroke of noon, students began to pour out of the building. Among them was Catherine Fitzgerald, whom he diffidently approached.
“Cathy —”
“Goodbye, George,” she answered, turning away.
“Wait, please. Can’t we just talk for a few minutes?”
“I’m not in the mood for even sixty seconds of prevarication, Dr. Keller.”
She started to walk off briskly.
He hurried to catch up with her.
“Please, Cathy,” he said urgently. “If America and North Vietnam can make peace, why can’t we?”
She whirled and demanded, “George, now that you and Henry have your cease-fire, you’re international heroes. Why bother with the one person in the world who still thinks you’re a worm?”
“Precisely because you’re the only person who matters to me.
“Do you really expect me to believe that bullshit?”
“I would hope you would at least give me a chance to convince you. I mean, you’re practically a lawyer. Even criminals are entitled to speak in their own defense. Will you have coffee with me?”
She sighed. “All right, but just one cup.”
“How did you know where to find me?” she asked. “Are you bugging my phone?”
He shook his head in consternation. “Give me a break, Cathy. I asked one of your old friends at NSC.”
“If they were friends of mine they should also have told you I didn’t want to see you.”
Like his diplomatic mentor, George was an indefatigable negotiator.
“Look, Cathy.” He began a new tack. “I know I’ve been callous. Dishonest, even. But I’ve learned my lesson, really I have. All these lonely months I’ve done nothing but castigate myself for not trusting you.”
“To be honest,” she replied, in a tone that was for the first time not hostile, “you barely even trust yourself. That’s your problem, George.”
“Aren’t you willing to believe a person can change in three years?”
“I’d have to see it to believe it,” she replied.
“Will you at least let me try to show you?” he pleaded.
She drained her coffee quickly and stood up. “Listen, I’ve got some important exams to study for. If you’re really serious, call me early next month and I can meet you without worrying about torts and contracts.”
“Fair enough,” he replied. “Can I walk you to the library?”
“I think it would be better if you didn’t. You and Henry are still pretty much persona non grata on campus.”
They began to see each other again. First at weekly intervals — both of them guarding their emotions. But gradually, Cathy had to acknowledge to herself that George was making a genuine effort to right the wrongs of their earlier relationship.
For the first time, he spoke openly about his childhood. About what it meant to leave a country that he loved. About arriving in a strange new land without a relative or friend, barely able to say ten words in the language. About his desperate yearning to fit in. It was, however, a selective disclosure. For he only briefly mentioned that he had “a pretty poor” relationship with his father. And did not mention Aniko at all.
To make her understand his instinctive caution when dealing with others, he told of his first, bewildering days in America, Of being in constant fear. And his still latent paranoia that there were spies everywhere.
In short, he told the truth — if not the whole truth. And his partial candor enabled Cathy to let herself care once more.
“Who’s your best friend, George?” she asked as they were taking a Sunday-afternoon stroll.
“I don’t know,” he replied offhandedly. “I guess I’ve never had one really.”
“Not even as a child?”
“No, I was always a lone wolf. I’m just not gregarious.”
She paused and then said gently, “You know, it’s a paradox. We’ve been lovers for a long time now but we’re not friends yet. At least, you don’t regard me as one.”
“Of course, I do,” he protested.
“You’d make a lousy witness, Dr. Keller. You’ve just changed your testimony under my cross-examination. You started out by saying you didn’t have a best friend.”
“What am I?” he asked good-humoredly. “A guinea pig for your courtroom technique?”
“No, George, you’re my friend. And I want to be yours.”
“Cathy, you’re the most wonderful girl I’ve ever met. I just can’t fathom why you care so much for an iceberg like me.
“To begin with, you’ve got an electrifying mind. You also happen to be a very attractive man. And, most of all, you bring out something in me that wants to make you happy.”
He stopped walking and put his arms around her. “Cathy,” he said affectionately, “I love you.”
“No,” she whispered. “You don’t yet. But you will.”
Cathy graduated from law school that June and passed the Maryland Bar exam, which would enable her to practice in Washington, D.C., six months thereafter. Despite lucrative and interesting offers ranging from government work to private industry (women professionals were very much in demand in 1973), she chose to join the consumer advocates colloquially known as Nader’s Raiders.
“Why do you want to work with such a cockeyed organization?” George asked in a tone midway between amusement and amazement. “I mean, you could so easily get a job in the Attorney General’s office.”
“Look, George,” she explained, “despite being Washington born and bred, I’m still an optimist. But I’m not crazy enough anymore to think I can improve things on a global scale. My quixotic days ended when I left NSC. At least with Ralph’s group we can do some tangible good, and sometimes I can actually see the faces of the people I help.”
“It’s amazing,” he said with affectionate admiration, “you’re the most idealistic person I’ve ever met.”
“Well, you’re the most pragmatic.”
“That’s what makes us a good match. We’re like Jack Sprat.”
“Except that they were married,” she replied.
“No comment.” He smiled.
“You don’t have to,” she answered knowingly. “One morning you’re going to wake up, realize what an asset I’d be for your career, and ask me.”
“Is that how you think I base all my decisions?”
“Yes. And that’s probably the only thing that would keep you from asking me.”
“What?”
“The fact that I actually know what makes you tick.”
Success illumined Danny Rossi like a halo. He was rich and famous. His life overflowed with praise, his den with trophies — and his bed with beauties. He had everything a man could want.