“I’m happy alone,” he said out loud, and looked down automatically to see if Katie was tilting her head at him, quivering like the neurotic little rat she was.
Right, no Katie.
Fuck.
He really should be there. Bill might still be out there if Quinn hadn’t filed charges. In fact, she probably hadn’t filed charges. That would be like her, not wanting to cause a problem she’d have to fix. He’d better go over there and make sure she’d filed charges.
He put the book down and got up to go to Quinn’s. Don’t come back until you’re coming back for you, she’d said.
So he’d lie.
He was heading for the door when the phone rang. When he picked it up, Patsy Brady said, “You told me to call you if something was wrong.”
Nick went cold. “What?”
“That little dog’s out again,” Patsy said. “It was walking funny and crying, so I let it in the back gate and it tried to get in the back door, but it couldn’t so I went to let it in—”
“Call nine-one-one,” Nick said. “I’m leaving now.”
“—and that’s when I saw the window on the back door was broken,” Patsy finished. “That poor little dog ran right through the glass—”
“Fuck!” Nick slammed the phone down and ran for the door.
Quinn’s scream echoed in the tiny bathroom, and Bill smiled. “Hey,” he said. “It’s just me.”
She jerked the shower curtain in front of her and said, “Get out. Get out of here!”
“Now, just be calm.” He smiled again, reassuring her. “Just think about this for a minute.”
“Bill—”
“I know you’re upset right now, but that’s really just stubbornness. You knew we’d get back together sooner or later, and I think it’s time. Really, it’ll be okay.”
Quinn clutched the shower curtain and tried to stop shuddering as he smiled encouragingly at her. Stay calm and you can fix this. Okay, he was nuts but he wasn’t violent.
Yet.
Her heart leaped and she gritted her teeth. No, she could fix this. It would be better if she wasn’t naked in the shower, though. Of course, that had probably been Janet Leigh’s last thought when Tony Perkins dropped by.
“Why are you hiding behind that curtain, silly?” Bill said and Quinn forced herself to smile.
“You scared me,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you. Uh, could I have a towel, please?”
Bill said, “Oh. Sorry,” and handed her the towel from the rack behind him.
“Thank you,” she said, and wrapped herself in it, feeling less vulnerable once she was covered. Not a lot, but some. She pushed the shower curtain back and stepped out of the bathtub, her wet hair dripping. “I’ll just go get dressed and be right back,” and he said, “I’ll come with you and we can talk,” and followed her down the hall, speeding up when she did.
She tried to close the door to the bedroom in his face, but he stopped it with the flat of his hand, so she retreated to the other side of the bed, knocking over the suitcases he had stacked beside the foot of her bed. They fell lightly, as if they were empty, sliding against each other so that she moved back, staring at them as they came to rest.
“Sorry,” he said, “I’ll store those in the basement later,” and she yanked the top drawer of her washstand out, looking frantically for clothes to stave off whatever he intended to do between now and that “later” he was planning on.
Her underwear was gone. All of it. In its place was his clothing, T-shirts, jockeys, socks.
“Where’s my…stuff?” she said, trying to sound normal.
“That trashy underwear wasn’t you,” he said. “You’re not like that.”
Yes, I am. “Okay,” she said, and grabbed one of his T-shirts from the drawer. “Okay, fine.”
“We’ll have a lot more closet space when we put the new addition on,” he said, stepping over the suitcases so he could sit on the bed. “I thought we could go out for dinner tonight and talk about it so we could get started on it as soon as school is out.”
She looked at his calm, sure face and tried to decide if he’d get homicidal if she told him the truth. Maybe the best way to handle this would be to not disagree, to just ignore what he was saying. She pulled his T-shirt over her head, hating it that it was his T-shirt, but not in a position to be fussy. She kept the towel wrapped around her under it like a bulky sarong even though the T-shirt went to her knees. The more fabric between them the better.
“My dad’s living here, you know,” she said offhand. “He should be back any time now.”
Bill shook his head. “I doubt it. Edie moved back to her apartment, so he’s probably at your mom’s.”
“Edie moved back?” Quinn felt dumbfounded and then alarmed. If her dad wasn’t coming back—
“It was all the mothers could talk about at the game,” Bill said. “I heard Darla moved back with Max, too. That’s when I knew it was time for us.”
“Bill, there is no ‘us.’” Quinn watched him cautiously to see if he looked annoyed.
“Of course there is.” Bill shook his head, patient as always. “You were like this the last time I moved in. I kept suggesting it and you said no, and then I just moved in and things were fine. And it was the same way with the new apartment. Once I moved us, you were happy.” He shrugged. “Sometimes you don’t know what you want until I show it to you.”
Quinn opened her mouth to protest and then shut it again. He was right. Not about what she wanted, but she had given in all the other times. He wasn’t crazy to think it would work again.
He was just crazy, period.
“I didn’t want it,” she said carefully, watching his eyes to see if he’d go rogue on her. “I just didn’t want to cause a problem by arguing about it. It was stupid of me, and it’s what got us into this mess now, but I didn’t want it.”
“We’re just like we always were,” Bill said, almost to himself, and she said, “No. Bill, look at me. I’ve changed.”
He grinned at her. “You look just the same as always to me. You used to sleep in my T-shirts sometimes, remember? This is just like always.”
“It’s not like always. I told you, I’ve ch—”
“People don’t change,” he said. “They think they do, but they really don’t. Down inside, they’re the same. Look at Max and Darla. And your dad’s probably going to move back with your mom. Just like I’m back with you. People do stuff, but they don’t really change.”
“Well, I did,” Quinn said. “And I’m not—”
“No, you didn’t,” Bill said. “You cut your hair, big deal, it’ll grow back. Next September you’ll be back teaching art again with long hair, just like always. You’re the same.” He waved his hand around the room. “You’ve got the same furniture in this bedroom, the same pictures on the walls. You hung the colander next to that kid picture in the kitchen, the same place it was in both our apartments. You didn’t change.”
Quinn blinked at him. He was right.
“And I know you think I don’t belong here, but you wait.” He nodded at her. “It’ll be like it always was.”
“I’m in love with Nick,” she blurted, as much to prove to herself that she’d changed as to him.
“No, you love him,” he corrected her gently. “You always have. You just got confused about the kind of love it was because I wasn’t with you.”
“I’m sleeping with him,” Quinn said. “I’m pretty clear on how I love him.”
“No,” Bill said, his face darkening, and she remembered where she was and how much trouble she might be in. “You just tell him you don’t love him that way. It was a mistake. He’ll understand. You know Nick, he doesn’t like to get involved anyway.”
“Okay, you have to listen to me,” Quinn said, as quietly as she could. “I think you’re right about me not changing”—he smiled at her—“because I think I’ve always loved Nick.”
“No.”
“I think I loved him when I
talked Zoë into marrying him,” she said, keeping her voice as calm as possible. “I think I just didn’t believe he was anything I could have. That’s why I wanted to be Zoë. So I could have him. Because I’ve always loved him.”
“No,” Bill said, standing up.
“And he’s always loved me.” Quinn backed up a step, still talking in her everything-is-fine voice. “And now we’re together the way we should have been from the beginning—”
“No!” Bill said.
“—so you’ll have to leave now.”
“That’s ridiculous,” he snapped. “I’m unpacked. I’m not leaving, all my clothes are here.”
She started to argue, and then somebody banged on the back door and they both froze for an instant. She heard Katie’s toenails on the kitchen floor, heard Katie yelping, and Bill said, “Goddamn it, I got rid of that dog. Who the hell—”
“You what?” Quinn shoved past him and ran out on the landing as Katie limped up the stairs, shrieking in pain and anger. “What did you do to her?” she screamed at Bill and scooped up Katie to cuddle her, to find out what was wrong.
“That dog goes,” Bill said in his Master of the Universe voice, and when she turned, he was reaching for her.
“No!” she said, and ran down the stairs, taking the treads two at a time to get Katie to safety.
“Damn it, Quinn,” Bill said behind her, and she hit bottom just as she heard the thud of his feet on the top stair. “Give me that damn mutt,” he said and she turned in time to see him lose his balance and grab the stair rail. It came out of the wall when he put his weight on it, and he screamed and slammed into the opposite wall as she ran into the dining room, Katie still clutched shivering in her arms.
She heard him land hard at the bottom of the stairs, but by then she was at the front door, fumbling for the key as she heard him curse and try to stand. She cradled Katie in one arm as she got the key in the lock, got it turned, got the door open, and then his hands were on her, yanking at the T-shirt, trying to get to Katie. She fell through the front door as his fingernails raked her back, and she stumbled across the porch and onto the steps, grappling with Katie as she tripped and grabbed the porch rail, which came loose in her hand, a chunk of it coming with her as she fell into the grass. She let Katie go and yelled, “Run, Katie, run!” scrambling to her own feet as she turned back to face Bill, who hit the top step, his face contorted with fury, and broke it in two. He pitched forward and landed hard, lashing out to smash his fist into Katie as Quinn screamed, “No!” and fell over him to shield her.
“I’ll kill that damn thing,” Bill said, and shoved Quinn hard to get past her as he climbed to his feet. She scrambled to her feet in front of him and said, “Stop it, let her alone,” and he slapped her, knocking her back out of the way.
“I told you,” he said to her, his voice calm and sure. “You’re not keeping that dog.” He moved past her and reached for Katie, who cowered back, shaking and yelping, and Quinn grabbed the piece of broken porch rail from the grass and smacked it into the back of his head.
He shook his head once, like a bull, and turned on her. “Give me that damn thing.”
She backed up a step. “You listen to me,” she said, seething. “I hate you. I hate everything about you. I want you off my property and out of—”
He tried to grab the rail and she smacked it into his hand, catching him across the knuckles and making him swear.
“Just get out,” she said, and he grabbed for her again, and that’s when Katie bit the leg of his jeans and yanked, trying to pull him back. He turned and swatted at her, making her yipe again, and Quinn lost it completely and smashed the rail hard into the back of his head.
He staggered and jerked around, and she swung again, connecting solidly with his ear. “Don’t you ever”—smash as he fell back, shaking his head—“come near”—smash into his shoulder—“my dog”—swoosh a miss as he ducked—“or me”—smash into his neck, making him fall to his knees—“again!” She raised the rail to hit him the last time, this time between the eyes, the hell with fixing things, and then somebody grabbed her from behind and dragged her away, and she struggled to hit him, too, until he took the rail away from her and said breathlessly, “I think you made your point. Knock it off.”
“Nick?” she said, and Nick held her tight for an instant before she struggled free and said, “Katie.”
She swung around to see Katie snarling at a groggy Bill, who had fallen back onto the grass. Beyond them, Frank Atchity’s patrol car pulled up.
Frank crossed the lawn at his usual leisurely pace as Quinn dropped the porch rail and tried to look innocent.
“I kinda see your point about the coach,” Frank said to her when he was looking down at Bill. He shook his head. “I don’t think she likes it this rough, Bill.”
Bill let his bloody head fall back, and while Frank recited Miranda, Katie moved in and started to bark.
“I’m moving in,” Nick said to Quinn, and she looked at him, startled. “For me. I love you. I always have.” He looked down at Bill. “Also, I’ll sleep better knowing where that porch rail is. Christ, you really did a job on him. I think he gets it now.”
Frank stopped in the middle of the Miranda and frowned at Katie. “Dog, if he can’t hear me, he hasn’t been warned.” He stooped to pat Katie to calm her down, and she squatted and peed next to Bill’s ear.
“Good,” Quinn said, trying to get her breathing back to normal, still terrified for Katie. “That bastard hurt my dog.”
“That was his first mistake,” Nick said. “Come on, let’s get you dressed and her to the vet.”
Quinn took one last look at Bill, who met her eyes. No smugness there at all. “Never again,” she said and he turned his head away. “Come on, Katie,” she said, and Katie limped over to her, panting from barking so hard, not shaking at all.
The drive-in opened the first Saturday in June, and Quinn and Nick parked in the back row because Quinn had never gotten there in high school. “I always dated nice guys who wouldn’t make a move,” she told Nick, and he said, “Well, those days are over.”
“I stopped by Mom’s today,” she said as the cartoon came on—a black-and-white Woody Woodpecker about a cement mixer—and she snuggled down next to his shoulder.
Nick offered her a box of popcorn and said, “What’s new?”
“The cable company just added ESPN2 and the Golf Channel.” Quinn took some popcorn while Katie did her best imitation of a starving dog. “Dad isn’t seeing Barbara anymore because she was pushing for commitment, and he told her he’s already committed to Mom. And Mom and Edie went to a garage sale.”
Nick laughed.
“Which reminds me,” Quinn said, sitting up. “I saw Barbara today, and I swear to God, she looks like Princess Diana. Do you suppose she’s planning a trip to England? Should we warn Charles?”
“I don’t know and I don’t want to know.” Nick reached for her and pulled her back. “Barbara is not a good memory.”
“She is for some people. Lois threw Matthew out.” Quinn relaxed against him, fat with contentment. “She said she liked it better without him, and she’d never have known if Barbara hadn’t snagged him. She says she still hates her, but she’s stopped calling her the Bank Slut.”
“Nothing like a happy ending.” Nick looked past her to Katie, who had given up on the popcorn to peer out the open passenger window, looking for approaching trouble but fairly calm about it, as if she knew Bill was locked up for at least her life span. “Don’t let that dog jump out the window. We’ve paid for enough broken dog ribs this year.”
Quinn patted Katie’s rump. “She’s not going anywhere.”
Katie dropped from the window and turned her attention back to the popcorn. She took a limping step closer to them on the seat, whining pathetically.
“Have you noticed that dog only limps now when she wants something?” Nick said, and Quinn fed her a piece of popcorn and said, “Yes. Isn’t she smart?”
>
“No,” Nick said, and leaned over to open the glove compartment. “Popcorn’s bad for dogs. Give her a dog biscuit.”
“You keep dog biscuits in the glove compartment?”
“Don’t start,” Nick said and changed the subject back to something safer. “So how are Edie and your mom and dad really doing?”
“Well, as near as I could tell, Edie looks relieved, Mom looks smug, and Dad looks at the TV.” Quinn grinned at him in the deepening dusk. “They’re pretty happy, I think. It’s like things are back to normal after a really nice vacation. Oh, and Edie said the school board voted this afternoon to hire Dennis Rule as the principal.”
“Poor old BP,” Nick said. “If Bill had just won that tournament—”
“It wouldn’t have made a bit of difference.” Quinn tried to keep the satisfaction out of her voice, but it was hard. “He screwed himself on that one. When the super put the hiring committee together, he picked people who knew how the school worked.”
“So?”
“So he put Greta on the committee,” Quinn said, not even trying not to grin. “I would have paid to have seen Bobby’s face when he found out. Although I guess he wouldn’t have had much expression with his jaw still wired together like that.”
“So everybody’s happy,” Nick said. “Except for me.”
Quinn sat up, her heart skipping for a minute. “You’re not happy?”
He shook his head, but even in the twilight she could tell he was up to something.
“I was thinking we needed a change,” he said.
“Are you crazy?” Quinn said. “Life is damn near perfect and you want—”
He leaned toward her. “Beds, couches, walls, the kitchen counter, the backyard, the station bathroom.” He shook his head. “Same old, same old. We’re getting stale.”
His eyes were dark on her, and his body was hard and warm as he leaned closer, and he was exciting and dear and sure and everything she’d ever wanted. Quinn thought, Damn, I’m a lucky woman, but she kept her voice nonchalant as she said, “So what’s your point?”