Ghost writer, p.22
Ghost Writer, page 22
Sydney crossed her arms. “I can’t remember, Jonathan,” she said forcefully. “Does it matter?”
Jonathan shook his head to try to clear a thought path. “I guess not. I just wasn’t expecting you to do that.”
“Well, you told me to,” she stated bluntly.
Sydney’s tone demanded immediate damage control. “Yes, yes, I know. That was a very brave thing you did. I’m happy that you’re out of that horrible relationship.”
She frowned. “You don’t seem too happy.”
Jonathan attempted to pace in her small cubicle. “I am. Really. I feel a lot better knowing you’re going to be okay.”
“I’m great,” she said with a big smile. “And I’m even better knowing how you really feel about me. I mean, I took a risk breaking up with Jeremy, not knowing for sure if you really wanted to be in a relationship with me. But I definitely did the right—”
“R-relation . . .” Jonathan couldn’t even finish the word.
“Yes,” Sydney said slowly. “That’s what you wanted, right? I mean, you’ve been coming on to me for weeks now. And I think I know you better than to think it was just for some cheap thrill.”
Jonathan held his hands up. “Whoa, now, Sydney. I never said anything about a relationship. Yes, I cared for you. But I’m married.”
Sydney stood and said, “Well, apparently not very happily.”
“Excuse me?”
“Excuse me?!” Sydney said, her voice rising. “Don’t stand there and pretend like nothing has happened between us.”
“Nothing has happened,” Jonathan said in a harsh whisper.
“Well, I know that,” Sydney retorted, “but you’ve already admitted you have feelings for me. And I have feelings for you. So what’s the hesitation?”
“The hesitation?”
Sydney walked around her small desk toward him. “We’re meant to be together. We can talk about anything. You make me laugh. You cared enough to make me realize that my relationship with Jeremy should be ended. Now that I’ve done that, you’re not just going to leave me alone, are you?”
Her dark eyes, wide with wonder, blinked several times and then stared at him. Jonathan’s knees felt so weak he had to sit back down. His voice was barely audible above all the clamor of the office. “Sydney, I didn’t mean for this to go this far. I never meant—”
“To hurt me?” she demanded loudly, never thinking twice about who could hear.
“I just wasn’t thinking. I knew you were in a bad relationship, and I cared for you—or I thought I cared for you—enough that I knew you should get out of it.”
“And I did,” she exclaimed dramatically. “Because of you!”
Jonathan gazed up at her. “Because of me.”
Sydney towered over him for a moment longer, then crouched next to him, putting her hand on his knee. “Jonathan, what’s so hard for you to understand? I’m in love with you. I want us to be together.”
Jonathan shook his head in disbelief. “No, Sydney. I’m married.”
“You already said that,” she said flatly. “So leave your wife. Get a divorce. It’s no big deal.”
Barely conscious of his surroundings, Jonathan shook his dizzy head.
“Fine. Then don’t get a divorce. It still doesn’t mean we can’t be together.”
Jonathan’s eyes looked at her hand on his knee, then at her face. It was all he could do to contain his fear. He never imagined he would be in this situation.
“I can’t, Sydney. I just can’t be with you.”
Her response was surprisingly soft. “Why?”
Jonathan hung his head and realized he couldn’t answer the simple question of why. He knew he’d had strong feelings for her. He knew his marriage was rocky. He knew men did this all the time, and some were applauded for it. He knew divorce wasn’t taboo and that he would still get to see his kids regularly. But with all of those elements, there was still something deeper that kept him in his place. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew at that moment all he wanted in the whole world was to be at home with Kathy and his girls. Whatever problems they had, he felt sure he could overcome them. Still, this mystery of why he couldn’t follow his desires perplexed him to the point of being utterly speechless, even as Sydney’s pleading eyes burned through him.
But before he had any longer to think through an answer, Clyde Baxter appeared in the entrance of Sydney’s cubicle. His questioning expression and darting eyes made Jonathan’s body shudder. Sydney’s hand slipped off his knee and she stood up, quietly returning to the other side of her desk.
“I was just on the way back from the bathroom,” Clyde nervously explained, “and I saw your briefcase sittin’ here in the doorway, so I came in and—” He cut himself off and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I was just in the neighborhood and decided to stop by to see you, Jonny. You’re busy. I’ll—”
Jonathan snatched his briefcase up and moved swiftly past Clyde. “I’m not. I was just on my way to my office.”
“Wait,” Sydney demanded, and Jonathan motioned for Clyde to move on to his office. Then he looked at Sydney. Her eyes narrowed as her fingers dug into his forearm. “I won’t be hurt again. I’ll expose you. Everything about you.”
A deep anger welled up inside him, and he stared Sydney down until she backed away and said, “I didn’t mean that. I’m just a wreck. I didn’t mean that.” She turned away from him and wept.
Jonathan straightened the sleeve of his shirt and headed for his office, where Clyde was waiting for him. Jonathan hardly acknowledged he was there as he snatched his messages off Edie’s desk. Clyde barely escaped Jonathan’s office door shutting on him.
“What do you want, Clyde?” Jonathan snapped.
Clyde didn’t bother sitting down. “I was just here to discuss my book with you. I’ll talk to you another time.”
Clyde quietly opened the door, and Jonathan said, “It’s not what you think.”
Clyde paused and met Jonathan’s eyes. Jonathan felt a burning anger swelling within himself, an anger he hoped wouldn’t be directed toward anyone—but that was reaching an unstoppable boiling point.
“How long were you standing there?”
Clyde looked away. “Long enough.”
“It’s not what you think,” he said again, this time with clenched teeth.
The sting of Clyde leaving without saying another word was more than Jonathan could bear. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of his desk with uncontrollable force. His body shuddered in an attempt to suppress the rage that was about to escape, the type of rage that can change the entire direction of a person’s life in an unlucky instant.
His hands slid underneath his desk and he was standing in an effort to try to topple it over when Nellie walked in, saying, “What’s your excuse this time?”
Jonathan hadn’t another word left on his tongue, and to his silence, Nellie’s hands dramatically rose above her head in question. “What, Jonathan? You missed our vision meeting. It’s been on the calendar for months! You’ve gotten three memos about it!”
Jonathan’s hand swiped his desk, pushing everything off onto the floor. “I don’t care about a stupid meeting! Do you understand, Nellie! I just don’t care!”
Nellie gasped and slammed the door to his office, shutting them both in. She approached his desk as Jonathan’s quivering hands ran through his hair. “For heaven’s sake, Jonathan, what is going on?”
Jonathan couldn’t even look up at her. And he had nothing to say at that moment. All he wanted to do was cry.
Nellie waited a few seconds, then began picking up his stapler and desk calendar from off the carpet. She placed them gently on his desk. “Why don’t you take the rest of the month off—”
“No! No, I’m fine!”
Nellie deliberately bent down and rose again with his pencil sharpener. “No, Jonathan, you are not fine.”
Jonathan fell into his chair. “I’ll be all right. The editorial meeting is the week after next. I want to be there.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Jonathan’s voice was sharp with irritation. “Nellie, please. I’m fine. I’ve got two good proposals I want to bring. Sure winners.”
Nellie’s hands found her hips. “I just don’t think you’re ready. You can’t seem to make important meetings, and you’re an absolute basket case. I think you need some time off.”
“I don’t need any time off,” Jonathan said harshly, and then calmed down enough to say, “I was going to save this for the meeting, but I’ll tell you now that Clyde is coming out of retirement for one final book, and it’s going to be a good one. It’s not a western. It stands alone. But I’m confident it will be a bestseller.”
Nellie then picked up two pencils and a pen, laid them on his desk, and, after an intentionally long pause, said, “Fine. But I think you’d better come out of whatever denial you’re in. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you’re only fooling yourself if you don’t go get some help. If you need to get into AA or something, we’ll work it out.”
“AA?”
“Something is definitely going on, and it’s affecting your work. Now, I care deeply for you. You’ve always been a top editor here. But lately your choices have been less than something to be desired, as I’ve said before, and now your mental state seems a little shaky. For the sake of the house, Jonathan, you’re either going to have to get yourself together and perform like you used to, or I’m going to have to let you go. I know that’s hard, but someone’s got to be tough with you, because you’re obviously not going to go get help without the proper incentive.”
“You’re firing me?” Jonathan said with a delirious laugh.
“That’s not what I said,” Nellie replied firmly. “But you’re real close to losing your job here. Let us get you some help. That’s what I’m saying.”
Jonathan’s body sank into his chair. “You can’t help me.” His hands rubbed his face furiously. “I’m okay. I’m sorry I missed the meeting.” As his eyes rolled back into his head he realized that even now he couldn’t recall having a meeting.
Nellie took one more long look at Jonathan and said, “Fine. Have it your way. But don’t expect any more favors. Any more tolerance. Get it together or you’re fired.” She walked to the door. “Don’t be too proud to ask for help.” She left and with another swipe of his hand, Jonathan cleared his desk again.
------
“I called Eleanor,” Kathy said after dinner as Jonathan helped her clear the table. The girls had scattered and they were alone in the kitchen. Jonathan had worked for the rest of the day digging through slush piles and writing rejection letters to proposals that on any other day might have gotten some consideration. But Jonathan could write a rejection letter in his sleep, and all he was capable of doing this day was work that took no mental effort at all.
At five o’clock sharp he left the office and returned home to his family. All were happy to see him, and he wished that everything were as normal as it seemed when he opened the front door to his home.
The lump in his throat had lingered all the way home, and after kisses from his daughters, he collapsed on the living room sofa and remained unconscious for over two hours until Kathy had come to wake him around seven-thirty.
The dinner table was full of chatter from the girls, Meg discussing her wish to become a cheerleader, Leesol lecturing all of them on how despicable boys are, and Sophie showing everyone how to mash peas so they’re easier to eat. Kathy, unusually quiet, listened and smiled, as did Jonathan, who felt as if he had just awoken with a hangover.
With dinner over and the girls out of sight, Kathy must’ve felt it was time to talk about the trip to Eleanor’s. Jonathan scraped Sophie’s mashed peas into the disposal as he said, “Is it all right for the girls to go early?”
Kathy nodded and wiped the counter. Jonathan studied her for a bit, waiting for her to add something, then said, “Honey, you’re quiet. Are you okay?”
She looked up at him, her eyes moist and shiny, a sign that tears were soon to follow. She looked away and Jonathan approached and put his arm around her. “Kathy, I know you’re scared about this writer. It’s going to be okay. But I wish you would go to Eleanor’s.”
Kathy shook her head, wiped a lone tear away, and continued to busy herself in the kitchen. Jonathan followed closely behind, picking up the loose crumbs she’d missed. “I’m going to figure this out. I’m going to figure out who is doing this. I promise you.”
Kathy threw her sponge in the sink and loaded the dishwasher, still wiping tears away. Jonathan finally made her stop. He turned her around and tilted her chin up so he could look in her eyes. “Are you okay?”
A stream of tears flowed from her eyes, but she managed to look back at him. “Jonathan, I love you. I always have. I would do anything for you. Anything at all to make you happy.”
Jonathan laughed a little at the odd statement and said, “You do make me happy, Kathy.” He guided her gently to the kitchen table and pulled a chair out for her. “I know we’re having some problems. I don’t think either of us can deny that. But we’ll work them out—”
“I want us to pray,” Kathy said suddenly. She cut him off and stared diligently at him.
“Excuse me?”
“I think you and I need to start praying. Every night.”
“Okay . . .” Jonathan was confused but decided to go along with her.
“That’s the only way it’s going to work.” She gazed at him. “God’s our only hope.”
Jonathan felt uncomfortable with this sudden talk of God. He went to the cabinet to get a glass and filled it with tap water. “Don’t worry about this writer, okay? Whoever it is, is going to make a mistake, and I’ll be on top of it when it happens. Promise me you won’t worry?” Kathy nodded a little and Jonathan said, “The only person that makes sense is Clyde.”
Kathy looked up. “Clyde?”
“Yes, Clyde,” Jonathan said in an angry but thoughtful tone. “He just seems suspicious.”
“But how could Clyde know all—”
“I don’t know. All the pieces to the puzzle don’t fit yet. But they will. I don’t trust Clyde with a ten-foot pole right now, though I do need his manuscript in a desperate way. I’ve got to be careful right now. For my sake.”
“Jonathan, I don’t think Clyde—”
“I don’t want you talking to him. Got it? Not at all.” Jonathan set his glass down on the counter and shook his head. “Honey, you don’t worry about this. I’m going to take care of it.” He peeked in the freezer for ice cream as he asked, “So you’ll go to Eleanor’s with the girls tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’s too soon,” Kathy said in a tired voice. She rose to finish cleaning up the kitchen, her body language lifeless, her eyes strained and distant. “Meg has a test she can’t miss. We’ll leave Saturday morning.” Her body slumped against the counter.
“Kathy, honey? Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Fine.” She closed a cabinet and said, “Maybe you could help me drive the girls to her house Saturday morning. It might be nice, just the two of us, on the way home. A nice time to talk.”
Jonathan studied her for a moment. Her eyes never met his, and he sensed there was some deliberate reason she wanted him with her. He didn’t really want to go, but he thought twice about saying no.
“If you really want me to go.”
“Only if you really want to,” she said. Though she smiled and pecked him on the cheek, she seemed sad. As she finished up the kitchen, he imagined that all this weird business about the manuscript was finally taking a toll on her. She had tried to remain strong and at times even seemed indifferent, but it was catching up with her. He could tell.
“Honey, why don’t you let me finish up here?” he said. “Go upstairs, run yourself a bath. You look tired.”
“Do I?” she said, seemingly on the verge of tears again. “I feel a little tired.”
He grabbed her around the shoulder and steered her in the direction of the stairwell. “I’ll worry about the girls for an hour, okay?”
She nodded and as she walked out of the kitchen said, “Can you take out the trash? It’s overflowing.”
Jonathan glanced over at the garbage, glad that Kathy didn’t bite his head off about it but simply asked him. He nodded and smiled and pointed in the direction of the stairs as a silent order for her to go on up. As she disappeared at the top, Jonathan pulled the garbage out of the basket and tied it together, trying to stuff everything inside the plastic bag. He laughed to himself and wondered why it was so hard for him to remember to do the little things.
As he tried to juggle the trash and open the front door, he reminded himself that he had been home for dinner, and that seemed to make an impression on everyone. He wondered if he should grab a coat to run the trash out but decided it was too much trouble and went ahead and stepped outside onto the porch. His foot slid a little and he almost fell. The doormat felt different, and he guessed one of the kids had turned it upside down. Trying to maneuver the trash bag, he reached down to flip it over and realized that he had not stepped on the doormat, but on a single manila envelope where the doormat should’ve been.
chapter 18
Jonathan climbed the stairs as fast as he could and then at the top listened carefully for sounds indicating Kathy was in her bath. After a couple of moments, he heard the sound of splashing and classical music, a sure sign Kathy was reclining in the tub, listening to Beethoven, her favorite. He could hear Sophie and Leesol in Leesol’s room, a few key words like frogs and snakes making it to his ears, something ordinarily he might be alarmed about. Now, though, he was glad it sounded like a conversation that might keep them preoccupied for a while. Meg was listening to music in her room.
