Chapter 9

Bill called her again later that week, and invited her to the theater this time. They drove to the city, and had dinner there, and afterwards he came in for a glass of wine, and they talked for a while, about the theater, and books, and she told him about a difficult case she was working on, involving a custody suit and a child she suspected was being abused. She had reported the parents to child protective services, and they had discovered she was right. In some ways, it presented a moral dilemma for her, and she wished that she could represent the child and not the parents.

“Why can't you?” he asked matter-of-factly. It seemed so simple to him, but for her it wasn't.

“It's a little more complicated than that. I'd have to be appointed by the court to represent the child, and I wasn't. I'm considered tainted because I represent the father. And they're right. It would be a conflict of interest for me to represent the child, although I'd much prefer it to representing her father.”

“I had a case like that, a kid in the trauma unit who they claimed had been beaten up by a neighbor. They wanted to bring charges against him and they told a very convincing story. I was suitably outraged. Turns out the father was beating the child, and he had brain-damaged her by the time she got to me. There wasn't a hell of a lot we could do about it. They took the child away from them, once she got out of the hospital, but she begged the judge to go back to them. I was afraid the father would kill her. The judge sent her to foster care for a few months, but eventually the child went back to her parents.”

“And then what happened?” He had piqued her interest.

“I don't know. I lost track of them, which seemed too bad. My work is so immediate and so acute, once people get well, I lose them. It's the nature of the beast in trauma and emergency. You do what you can in the immediacy of the moment, and then they fade out of your lives.”

“Don't you miss having a long-term relationship with your patients?”

“Not really. I think that's part of what I like about it. I don't have to worry about solving problems that aren't really mine to solve, or can't be. This way it's much simpler.” He was clearly someone who didn't want long-term relationships of any kind. But she liked him in spite of it. And every now and then, when he said things like that, she felt sorry for him. His life, and philosophies, were everything hers weren't. Everything about her life was long-term and deeply involved. There were clients who stayed in touch with her for years after their divorces. It was just a difference in style, and clearly, she and Bill Webster were very different. But it was equally clear that they liked each other.

It was late again when he left that night. He sat and talked to her till nearly one o'clock, and he was sorry when he left that he couldn't stay longer to talk to her. But they both had to get up early the next day. She had to go to court, and he was due on duty at the trauma unit at seven in the morning.

And Peter had a sly look in his eye when he asked her at breakfast the next day if he'd won his bet.

“No, you lost this time,” she smiled, and laughed.

“You mean he didn't kiss you, Mom?” Peter looked disappointed and Megan made a face of utter outrage.

“You're disgusting,” she accused him. “Whose side are you on?”

“Mom's,” he said clearly, and then he turned back to his mother. “Would you tell the truth if he did, or would you lie just to win the ten bucks?” He loved teasing her, and she laughed as she made them all pancakes.

“Peter, how insulting! I have more integrity than to lie to my own flesh and blood to win a bet.” She handed him a plate of pancakes and poured syrup on it.

“I think you're lying, Mom,” Peter accused her.

“I'm not. I told you, we're just friends, and I like it like that.”

“Keep it that way, Mom,” Rachel added. Another country heard from. Liz looked at her youngest daughter with interest.

“When did you get interested in this?”

“Peter says he likes you, and Meg says you're going to marry him.” In some ways, she was sophisticated for eleven. She was nearly twelve, but not quite. She had just turned eleven when her father died, and like all of them, she had grown up a lot in the past year, as had their mother.

“Let me reassure you all,” she said with a broad smile, as they finished their breakfast, “two dinners do not constitute an engagement.”

“It's too soon for you to be going out,” Annie added, looking at her sternly.

“And when do you think it would be appropriate?” her mother asked her with interest.

“Never,” Megan answered for her younger sister.

“You're all nuts,” Peter said, as he got up from the breakfast table. “Mom can do whatever she wants. And Dad would think it's fine. Dad would be dating by now, if it had happened to Mom instead,” and she realized as she listened that by the grace of God it could have. And she thought Peter's comment interesting, as she mulled it over on her way to work. Would Jack have been dating by then if she had died instead? She had never thought about it, but she suspected he might. He had a healthy attitude about life, and too much joie de vivre to get buried in a closet, mourning her. Peter was right. Jack probably would have been dating. It made her feel better about seeing Bill Webster.

He called her in the office that day, and asked her to go to the movies with him again the following weekend. They seemed to be seeing a lot of each other suddenly, and she didn't mind. She enjoyed him.

And this time when he came to take her out, Jamie let him in, and brought him up-to-date on the situation.

“My sisters don't think you should be taking Mom out. But Peter thinks it's all right, and so do I. The boys like you, and the girls don't.” He summed it up for him nicely, and Bill laughed out loud and mentioned it to her on the way to a small French restaurant in Sausalito.

“Are they really upset that we're dating?” he asked with interest.

“Are we?” Liz asked easily. “I thought we were just friends.”

“Is that what you want, Liz?” he asked her gently. They were at the restaurant by then, and he had just pulled into the parking lot as he turned to look at her. He was anxious to hear how she answered the question.

“I'm not sure what I want,” she said honestly. “I have a good time with you. This just kind of happened.” It was how he felt as well, but he was beginning to feel more for her than he'd expected. At first, he would have been satisfied to be her friend, but now he wasn't as sure. He was beginning to think he wanted more from her. But they didn't press the point any further, as they walked into the restaurant, and stayed off heavy subjects for the rest of the evening.

But this time, when he took her home, Peter would have won the bet, if there had still been one. Just before Bill walked her into the house, he pulled her carefully into his arms, and with a look of tenderness in his eyes, he kissed her. She looked a little startled at first, and then she relaxed in his arms, and kissed him back, but afterwards she looked sad, and he was worried.

“Are you all right, Liz?” he whispered.

“I think so,” she said softly. For a flash of an instant, kissing him made her think of Jack, and she almost felt as though she were cheating on him. She wasn't hungry for a man, she hadn't been looking for anyone, but Bill Webster had walked into her life, and now she had to deal with her feelings about him, and her late husband. “I didn't expect that,” she said, turning to look at him, and he nodded.

“Neither did I. It just kind of happened. You're an amazing woman.”

“No, I'm not,” she smiled at him, as they lingered outside. It was nice to be out in the fresh air, and not within earshot of her children. It would have made her uncomfortable if they had been aware of what had just happened. And as though to reinforce what they had both felt that night, he kissed her again, and this time she kissed him back with greater fervor. She was breathless when they stopped and a little worried. “What are we doing?” she asked, as they stood beneath the stars of a September night, and he smiled at her.

“I think we're kissing,” he said simply. But it was much more than that, it wasn't just idle curiosity, or the hunger of two lonely bodies, it was the clear attraction that happened sometimes between a man and a woman, a meeting of minds as well as lips. There were a great many things they liked about each other, although they had already agreed that they were very different. He liked fleeting relationships of all kinds, and everything in her life was based on permanence, marriage, children, career, even her two employees had worked for her for years. There was nothing temporary in her life, and he knew that about her. It was almost a challenge to him to be different. But he wasn't sure now if he wanted to be temporary in her life either. This was a new experience for him, but she wasn't the kind of woman he usually was attracted to. “Let's take this slow,” he said to her, “and not think about it too much. Let's just see what happens.” She nodded, not sure what to say to him, or if anything more should happen.

But by the time she was in the house again, and he was gone, she was consumed by guilt over what she'd done. She felt as though she had betrayed her husband. But he's gone, she told herself, and he was never coming back. But then why did it feel so strange to be kissing Bill, and so wrong, and at the same time so exciting? It unnerved her as she thought about it, and she lay awake for a long time that night, thinking about him, and Jack, and wondering what she was doing.