“Ben?”

“Yes?” he said, looking up.

“I-I-” She fumbled for a moment. “I’m sorry we haven’t had time for Scrabble lately.”

“I think there have been extenuating circumstances.”

“I just wondered…” She pursed her lips, tried again. “I wondered if you would like to…”

Their faces drew closer together.

“Yes?” he said, when their noses were practically touching.

“I wondered if…”

They heard a clattering in the corridor outside. Perhaps it was Jones, locking up.

“We should probably get some sleep,” Ben said.

“You’re right, of course.” She pushed away from the table, suddenly very embarrassed. “Big day, tomorrow. Make or break.”

“Right,” he agreed. “Best to get a good night’s sleep.”

And a moment later, she was gone.

You stupid fool, he told himself, as he watched Christina leave the office.

But the timing wasn’t right. It couldn’t possibly be, not with the trial, and Ellen, and…

And the wounds all too present and deep and well remembered. Like that day at her apartment. The one that turned out to be the true last time he ever saw her. Until now.

When she wouldn’t answer the bell, he pounded on the apartment door. When she still didn’t answer, he shouted, so loud that everyone in that Toronto apartment complex near campus could hear. It wasn’t until he threatened to set fire to the place that she finally answered.

“Ben!” she said, standing in the doorway. “What are you doing here? I told you-”

“I couldn’t stay away, Ellen. We’re meant to be together.”

Her eyes rolled up. “Did you hear anything I told you in the subway yesterday?”

“I heard it all. And I don’t care.”

Her neck stiffened. “I can’t take this, Ben. I’m not well-”

He reached out desperately, grabbing her arm. “I know that, Ellen. That’s why we should be together.”

“That isn’t possible. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Splitting up isn’t fair! I want to be with you. We’ll fight this thing together. I’ll be with you in the clinics, in the hospital. Wherever you need me to be.”

“There’s more to it than that.”

“Fine! I don’t care. Whatever there is, we’ll deal with it.”

“You’re not being realistic, Ben. It’s over.”

“It can’t be over! I won’t let it be.”

“You just don’t have any idea-”

“I know what you mean to me. What we mean to each other.”

“Ben, would you just listen to me for a minute?”

“I know I’m probably not being practical. But why should I be? We’re in love, and-”

“Ben, you don’t-”

“And I know that if we try we can-”

“Ben-”

“-do anything we want. We can make it work.”

“Ben-”

“We can still get married, just like-”

“Ben, stop!”

“We can do it, Ellen, I know we can, if we-”

“Ben, I’m pregnant!”

Silence descended, like a sudden black curtain drawn across the sun. Like an immovable barrier that could not be crossed.

“You mean, we-”

“No, Ben. I don’t mean we anything.”

Ben heard a rustling in the apartment. “Who’s in there?”

“No one.”

“There is someone. You’re not alone.” He tried to push past her in the doorway, but she wouldn’t let him through. “Who is it?”

Her eyes closed. “It’s… Larry.”

“Larry? Who the hell-”

“My boss. At the oil company.”

Ben’s face twisted up in anger and disgust. “You… and your boss?”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen, Ben. It was an accident. Sort of. He’d been acting interested for months, and you and I were about to get married, and I-” She looked at him, her eyes wide and saddened. “I wasn’t supposed to get pregnant. But I am.”

“And-and it’s Larry’s-”

“Yes. Absolutely. But it’s okay. He’s agreed to marry me.”

“He?” Ben reached out to her. “Marry me, Ellen-just as we planned. I don’t care what happened. I’ll take care of you. And the baby.”

“Ben.” She looked at him, and a soft smile trickled across her lips. “You know I love you-but you’re just a kid. You can’t even take care of yourself.”

“And Larry-”

“Is older than we are. He’s got a good executive seat with the oil company, a steady income. He’s got one child already from a previous marriage. He wants to do the right thing by me.” She paused, looking as though all the energy had drained out of her. “And I’m going to let him.”

Ben grabbed her shoulders. “Ellen… please. I-I don’t understand any of this. I don’t know why you would-” He shook her helplessly back and forth. “My father’s a doctor, and he knows lots of others. He’s got lots of cash and-”

“No, Ben.”

“Why would you marry some guy you don’t love when you can still marry me? It’s all arranged. We’ve got a church reservation, for God’s sake. My parents and everyone will be here in two days.”

“Ben! Haven’t you told them it’s off?”

“I-I couldn’t do it until-I was sure-”

“Ben!” All at once, anger flared across her face. “This is sure. You and I are not getting married.”

“But why not?”

Her eyes began to mist. “You just won’t let this be easy, will you? Won’t let me leave without-” She turned away, her lips trembling. “I want you to go away, Ben. I want you to leave me alone and never come back. I don’t want to see you ever again. Ever!”

“But we could still-”

“Would you listen to me for once!” she screamed. “Go away!” She broke loose, then shoved him backward as hard as she could. Ben tumbled down the concrete steps onto the sidewalk.

Before he could pull himself off the pavement, he heard her door slam shut. All around, he saw neighbors peering out of their doors and windows, watching the show. He felt stupid and embarrassed and desperate. He felt as if a part of him had been torn away, like something had been ripped out of his body, more like he’d lost a limb than a lover.

He stood shakily, brushed himself off, and stared at the closed door. It really was over, he realized. After everything they’d shared, after feeling like he had never felt before. She wasn’t his any longer.

She was gone. Forever.

44

As a good Scotch-Irish-extraction Presbyterian, Christina didn’t believe God intervened in the everyday minutiae of people’s lives. Consequently, she didn’t pray for positive outcomes from traffic lights, parking lots, Scrabble, basketball games, or criminal trials. Usually. This time, she was making an exception.

I can’t promise to get me to a nunnery, she thought, eyes clenched shut. But I’ll try to come up with something else good. Ministering to the poor. Caring for the sick. I’d offer to adopt a child, but I’ve already got Ben to take care of, and that’s about the same thing.

“Ms. McCall,” Judge Lacayo said, in clear, crisp tones that rang through the crowded courtroom. “Are you ready to proceed?”

“We are,” she said, rising. “We call Johnny Christensen to the stand.”

Ben had told her long ago that every trial had a pivotal moment, the one upon which everything depended. Usually that was the part of the trial that was most anticipated, the part the spectators-and the jury-had been waiting for. No question about what that was in this trial. They wanted to hear what Johnny Christensen had to say for himself. What he could possibly say for himself.

As before, Christina had put him in a good suit, but not too good. He was from a reasonably well-off family, and the jury knew it, but she didn’t want them to feel as if he were trying to con them with the slick pantlines of Italian designers. Johnny looked as though he had made an effort-it would be disrespectful to do otherwise-but not as if he were trying to put anything over on them.

Johnny had been out in the corridor with the marshal when the judge called the case, and she did not envy Johnny his walk to the front of the courtroom. Must be like running the gauntlet. Just to his left was Mario Roma, growling and glaring and looking as if it was all he could do to keep from driving a stake through Johnny’s heart. Gary Scholes and the other fraternity guys collectively turned their heads as he passed. Roger Hartnell looked as if he were about to cry. And in the very front row sat Johnny’s mother, her head cradled in her hands, tears seeping through her fingers.