Kezia found herself staring blankly at the backs of people’s heads and felt Edward guiding her slowly out of the pew. It was a long wait at the line where she shook hands with assorted relatives. Bill looked officious and solemn, dispensing small smiles and understanding nods like an undertaker instead of a husband. The children looked confused. Everywhere people were looking around, checking out who was there, what they had worn, and clucking and shaking their heads over Tiffany … Tiffany the drunk … Tiffany the lush … Tiffany the … friend. And it was all so much like Kezia’s mother’s funeral that it was unbearable. Not only to her, but to Edward. He looked gray when they left the church at last. Kezia took a deep breath, patted his hand and looked up at the sky.

“Edward, when I die, I want you to see to it that I’m tossed into the Hudson, or something equally simple and pleasant. If you do one of these numbers for me, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.” She was not entirely joking. But Edward looked at her with an unhappy expression.

“I hope I won’t be around to worry about it. Do you want to go to the cemetery?” She hesitated for a moment, and then shook her head, remembering her promise to Luke. This had been bad enough.

“No, I don’t. Are you going?”

He nodded painfully.

“Why?” Because he ought to. She knew the answer too well. That’s what killed people like Tiffany. Ought to’s.

“Really, Kezia. One ought …” She didn’t wait to hear the end of it. She merely leaned over, kissed his cheek, and started down the steps.

“I know, Edward. Take care.”

He had wanted to ask her what she was doing later, but he never got the chance, and he didn’t want to impose on her. He never did. It didn’t seem right to trouble her. She had her own life to live, but it had been such a wretched day. Such a bad day for him. It all reminded him so much of Liane. Of that godawful, unbearable day when…. He watched Kezia slip easily into a cab, and wiped a tear quickly from his cheek. He was smiling a small, appropriate smile when she looked back at him from the rear window.

“How was it?” Luke was waiting for her with hot tea.

“Horrible. Thanks, darling.” She took a sip of the tea before she took off the black Saint Laurent coat, and with her free hand pulled the dark mink hat from her head. “It was ghastly. Her mother-in-law even had the bad taste to bring the kids.” But Kezia had been at her mother’s funeral too. Maybe that was just the way things had to be. As painful as possible to make them seem real.

“Do you want to go out to dinner, or have something sent in?”

She shrugged, not really caring. Something was bothering her. Everything was.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Did it hit you that hard? I told you….” He looked at her unhappily.

“I know. I know. But it’s upsetting … and maybe something else is bothering me. I don’t know what. Maybe it’s seeing all those fossils who still think they own me. Maybe it’s growing pains. I’ll be okay. I’m probably just depressed about Tiffany.”

“You sure it’s not something else?” He was troubled, more than she knew.

“I told you, I don’t know. But it’s no big deal. There have just been a lot of changes lately … quitting the column … you know. It’s time to grow up, and that’s never easy.” She tried to smile but his eyes didn’t answer.

“Kezia, am I making you unhappy?”

“Oh, darling, no!” She was horrified. What a ridiculous thought. And what the hell had he been worrying about all afternoon, she wondered. He looked lousy.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I’m positive, Lucas. Really.” She leaned over to kiss him and saw sadness in his eyes. Maybe it was compassion for her, but what she saw touched her deeply.

“Are you sorry about having given up the column?”

“No, I’m glad. Honestly glad. It just feels odd when things change. Makes one insecure. It does me, anyway.”

“Yeah.” He nodded and stayed silent for a long time as she finished her tea, her coat now tossed on a chair, the black dress she wore making her look more severe. He watched her and it was a long time before he spoke again. There was an odd note in his voice when he did. The bantering of earlier in the day was gone.

“Kezia … there’s something I have to tell you.”

She looked up, all innocence, trying to smile. “What is it love?” And then she joked, “You’re secretly married and have fifteen children?” She spoke with the confidence of a woman who knows that there are no secrets … only one.

“No, you jerk. I’m not married. But there’s something else.”

“Give me a hint.” But for once she didn’t look worried. It couldn’t be important or he wouldn’t be bringing it up now. He knew she was upset about Tiffany.

“Babe, I don’t know any way to tell you, except to put it to you straight. But I have to tell you. It just can’t wait anymore. I’m up for a revocation hearing.” The words fell into the room like a bomb. Everything smashed and then stopped.

“A what?” She couldn’t have heard him correctly … couldn’t have. She was dreaming. This was one of his nightmares and she’d overheard by mistake.

“A hearing. I’m up for a hearing. About my parole. They want to revoke me for conspiracy to provoke disturbances in the prisons. In other words, agitation.”

“Oh God, Lucas…. Tell me you’re joking.” She closed her eyes and sat very still, as though she were waiting, but he could see her clenched hands shake in her lap.

“No, babe, I’m not kidding. I wish I were, but I’m not.” He reached out and took both her small hands in his. Her eyes opened slowly, drowning in tears.

“How long have you known?”

“There’s been a threat of it for a while. Since before I met you, in fact. But I never believed it would happen. I got confirmation of the hearing today. What really did it, I think, was the San Quentin work strike. They got pissed enough to grab my ass this time.” That, and kill Morrissey.

“Jesus. What’ll we do?” Her face looked limp as the tears flowed in silence. “Can they prove you were involved in that strike?”

He shook his head in answer, but he didn’t look encouraged. “No. But that’s why they’re so pissed. Now they’ll try to get me on anything they can. But we’ll do our damnedest I have a good lawyer. And I’m lucky. A few years ago, you couldn’t have an attorney at hearings to revoke your parole. Just you and the board. So, cheer up, things could have been worse. We have a good lawyer, we have each other. And they can’t object to our life-style, it’s as clean as they come. We’ll just have to do what you do with these things. Wait it out till the hearing, and then put up a good fight.”

But they both knew that the key issue was neither the fight, nor his life-style. He was accused of agitation. And it was all true. “Come on, Mama, hang tough.” He leaned over to kiss her, taking her into his arms, but her body was stiff and unyielding, her face bent as the tears continued to flow. He saw her knees shake as he looked down at her lap. He felt as though he had killed her. And in a way, he was right.

“When is the hearing?” She expected to hear that it was the next day.

“It’s still more than six weeks away. January eighth, in San Francisco.”

“And then what?”

“What do you mean, ‘and then what?’” She was sitting so still that she frightened him.

“What if they make you go back?”

“That won’t happen.” His voice was deep and subdued.

“But what if it does, dammit, Luke?” Her shriek of pain and fear slashed through the silence.

“Kezia, it won’t!” He lowered his voice and tried to calm her, while fighting his own desperation. This was not at all what he’d planned. But what could he expect? He should have known this from the beginning. He had led her gently away from her home, into his, and now he was sitting there telling her that their house might burn down. The look in her eyes made her an orphan again. And her pain was his doing. He felt the weight of it like a cement sack around his heart.

“Darling, it’s not going to happen like that. And if it does—and that’s only an ‘if’—then we live with it. We both have the balls to do that. If we have to.” He knew he did. But did she? Not the way she looked then.

“Lucas … no!” Her voice was a barely audible whisper.

“Baby, I’m so sorry….” There was nothing more he could say. The thing that he’d feared for so long had finally happened. Only the joke of it was that before Kezia he hadn’t feared it the same way. Hadn’t feared it at all. He had regarded it as a potential price to pay, a possible inconvenience. He had had nothing to lose … and now he had it all … and it was all on the line. And she had to pay the price with him. But she had to be told. Alejandro had told him that for weeks, and he had stalled, and evaded, and lied to himself. There was no lying now. The notice lay crumpled in a ball on the desk. They had taken the matter out of his hands … and now look at the mess…. He lifted her chin gently with one hand, and sought her lips tenderly with his. It was all he could give her, what he felt, what he was, how he loved her. They still had another six weeks. If no one murdered him first.


Chapter 22


For Thanksgiving, they had hot turkey sandwiches in their room at the hotel in Chicago. The revocation hung over their heads, but they had fought hard to ignore it. They rarely discussed it, except once in a while, late at night. They had six weeks till the hearing, and Kezia was determined not to let the threat of it ruin their life. She fought for gaiety with an almost unbearable determination. Lucas knew what was happening to her, but there was so little he could do. He couldn’t wish the hearing away. His own nightmares were back, and he didn’t like the way Kezia looked. She was already losing weight. But she was game. She made the same old jokes, they had a good time. They suddenly made love two and three times a day, sometimes four, as though to stock up on what they might lose. Six weeks was so short. When they went back to New York, there were only five left.