“Then I don’t want to hear any more about it.We’ve discussed it.We’ve decided.It’s done.”He looked at her for a minute longer, then, swearing softly, hugged her hard.“You’re enough to drive a sane man mad, Pam.”
She didn’t answer.She was too busy breathing him andfeeling him, storing up memories for the time when she was back home.
Those memories came in handy in the weeks that followed.Seeing no way out of her predicament, Pam spent more time at home than ever before.Her room became her haven.She talked on the phone some with her friends, but the frivolity of it was gone.She slept some, daydreamed some, brooded some.Mostly she studied.John had put the weight of responsibility on her shoulders, and she felt it keenly.
She didn’t see him much at first.True to his word, he seemed to have stopped playing watchdog.He had told her the rules and was doing whatever it was he did with his time while she abided by them.If anyone was her guard, it was school.Her midterm report would be telling.
Her grades rose dramatically.Pam was relieved to know she could do it, and in that sense the pressure eased.It didn’t go away, though.John wasn’t satisfied simply to know that she could do well; he wanted her to do it on a regular basis.He made it clear what would happen if she didn’t.
He also made it clear that he was pleased with her progress.She suspected it was his own cleverness that pleased him most—he had effectively, and painlessly on his part, brought her to heel—but the fact that he was less odious than usual was some solace.He took her to dinner at the Ritz when she received those first improved grades, even invited her to several business functions.He took to stopping by her room when he came home from work, then again before he went to bed, and while she told herselfthat he was just checking up on her, there seemed more to it.He was actually being pleasant.
“How’s it going with Mrs.Ditmar?”he asked one night.Mrs.Ditmar was the American-literature teacher with whom Pam had locked horns at the start of the year.
Pam was propped against the headboard of her bed.A pencil was in her hand, a notebook on her lap, a textbook beside her.Wary as ever at John’s appearance, she held the pencil more tightly.“Not bad.She’s mellowed, I think.Or maybe I’m just getting used to her style.”
“That was a nice paper you wrote for her last week.”
“You read it?”
He nodded.“You left it on top of your books in the kitchen.I always liked Steinbeck.The Grapes of Wrathwas long—all my friends complained—but it was my favorite.”
“I liked it, too.”
“That came through in the paper.You write well, Pam.Clear and concise.You organize your thoughts nicely.”
She nodded her thanks and looked down at her notebook.She felt awkward, not quite sure if he was being patronizing and in any case not knowing what to say or do.
“I got a call from Jennifer’s mother before.”As Pam looked up at him, he went on, “She wondered if we’d reached a decision on spring break.You didn’t tell me they invited you to their villa on Nevis.”
“I didn’t tell you because I don’t want to go.Jennifer started mentioning it last fall, and she won’t let it rest.I’ve given her every excuse in the book.”
“So I gathered.Her mother said that if I was worried, she’d see that you put in some time every day studyingso you’ll make the honor roll.”He arched a brow.“That’s going a little too far, don’t you think?”
“I guess, but I didn’t know what else to say.”
“Why don’t you want to go?”
She began to doodle on her notebook.“Jennifer’s been getting on my nerves lately.She’s so silly sometimes and we’re not that close anymore.It’d be pretty hypocritical of me to use her to get to the Caribbean, when I wouldn’t even want to go on a weekend trip to New York with her.”
“How about a weekend trip to New York with me?I thought I’d go down to see Hillary.We could do some shopping, maybe take in a show.What do you think?”
Pam didn’t know what to think.He’d never offered to take her away before.She searched his face for some sign of teasing or sarcasm or even treachery, but he looked perfectly sincere.“Uh, won’t I be in the way?I mean, you’ll want to spend time with Hillary.”
“I could take a suite at the Pierre.If you want, we could even go down to Palm Beach from there.I can always drum up some business while you lie in the sun.”
She wavered.The last person she had imagined vacationing with was John.But she loved New York.And she loved Hillary.And she loved the idea of working up a tan.She had hoped to spend part of the vacation in Maine, but only part.Being with Cutter, while necessary to her survival, brought an odd kind of torment now.It might be nice to have a diversion from that.
“You have two weeks,” John pointed out.
“I really should study,” she pointed out right back.
“You’re studying plenty here.”
“But if I don’t make honor roll—”
“Going away for spring break won’t affect that.It’s not like you’ll be partying all night and waking up every morning hung over.”He seemed to catch himself, and for the first time his expression darkened.“Unless you think you’ll be bored.”
“Of course not.John, I don’t live to party, and I’ve never once been hung over.”
