O+F Part 37

"Upstate New York. He works on a farm." Dan saw Oliver's surprise and continued. "It's a long story. We're twins. And now I have twins--strange. Something happened at birth; my brother was born r.e.t.a.r.ded, mentally challenged." Dan rubbed the back of his neck. "We were given up for adoption. I didn't find out about this until I was grown up."

"No," Oliver said.

"Dale was raised in an inst.i.tution and eventually got work on this farm where he gets room and board. It took me quite a while to find him. I go see him every three or four months."

"That's too bad," Oliver said.

"He's a worker!" Dan said proudly. "He's strong. He's in a lot better shape than I am."

"Is he happy there?"

"Yeah. We keep asking him to come and live with us, but he wants to stay there. He likes his responsibilities, takes them seriously. He comes over for a week's vacation every year." Dan smiled. "He splits all our wood when he's here. The girls love him."

"Nice family," Oliver said.

"That's what it's all about. Sorry to miss the party, though."

"Well, some other time," Oliver said, raising one hand.

"Lucille," Dan called to a nurse down the hall, walking quickly after her.

"He does the work of two people at least," Oliver said later to Suzanne.

"Kind of a workaholic, really," she said.

"A great guy," Oliver said.

"He is."

"Human," Oliver said. "The other day . . . I shouldn't tell you this."

"I can keep a secret."

"We went out for lunch and Dan had chicken--barbecued chicken. 'I thought you were a vegetarian,' I said to him.

"'I weaken sometimes,' he said, chewing. 'Do you think the Lord will forgive me?'

"'If He doesn't forgive you, there's no hope for me whatsoever,' I said."

Suzanne laughed. "Or me."

"Sinners," Oliver said.

"'Fraid so," she said more softly.

"Can you make it to the housewarming?"

"I don't think so."

"d.a.m.n. What are you doing?"

"I've got a book," she said.

"Aha. Romance. A blonde hulk who will carry you away." Oliver was looking levelly into her eyes.

A small smile turned the corners of her mouth down. "I'm waiting for someone my size." They were in her office. Oliver registered that it was very warm. He saw her shudder and give in to a wave of longing. Her lips parted and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s lifted. He reached for her in slow motion and stopped himself just before he touched her.

He was shocked. "I . . ."

"I know," she said. She closed her eyes. "G.o.d, I know."

"Suzanne . . ." She shook her head and smiled helplessly.

"I'll read my book."

"We've got to talk sometime," he said. She nodded. He took a deep breath and left.

Oliver was trembling as he drove away. What was that all about? He and Suzanne had become more friendly as time had gone by. They often talked, and she was always sympathetic. But he hadn't expected anything like what had just happened. His breathing was still messed up. When she had surrendered to him, he had been jolted by a rush of strength.

He felt like Ghengis Khan or something.

Suzanne was sharp. She remembered everything he said about the computer system, repeating things back to him word for word months later. She was very helpful. He depended on her support, he realized. There was something about her that got to him, a lonely bruised quality. She had eloped in high school, run away to Tennessee, and returned eighteen months later. Her family and the church took her back, but . . . She was still living in a shamed shadow.

He decided that he needed a Guinness. He stopped at Deweys, and two pints later he was back in control. Better than that. The last of the warrior-lovers invited the entire bar to the housewarming and went home.

17.

Oliver didn't know what to do about Suzanne. They worked together; he couldn't avoid her. He didn't want to avoid her. She was alive and vital and _for him_, somehow. He turned toward her like a plant toward light. That's the problem, he thought the next morning as he drove into the hospital parking lot. I've been attracted to her all along. I've flirted with her and leaned on her. I'm a creep.

Holding that thought firmly, he marched by Molly, waved good morning, rounded the corner, and went directly to Suzanne's office. She wasn't there. Her light was off. He went back to Molly and asked whether Suzanne had come in.

"She called in sick, Honey."

"Ah. Too bad."

"She said she'd be in tomorrow."

"What's so funny?" Molly was giggling.

"I asked her what was sick, and she said it was her hair. Her hair was sick. I wish _my_ hair was that sick. I hope she doesn't go and do something foolish."

"I like your hair," Oliver said, setting off the flas.h.i.+ng "creep" sign.

The phone rescued him. "I'd better get to work."