Cold Springs(9)

“Give me that before you ruin it,” Ann said. “I'm freezing.”

John tossed her the quilt, and Ann spread it over her knees and Norma's—sharing automatically, moving in closer. The smell of acrylic paint wafted up from the fabric.

John did an elbow strike at Chadwick.

Chadwick shook his head sadly. “That would never work.”

“No? The Japanese should know, man.”

“John, karate's not Japanese. It's Okinawan.”

“What the f**k ever. Look, you're an Air Force guy. Come on, throw me a punch. Pretend I'm the Vietcong or whatever. I'll show you.”

They went at it, Chadwick halfheartedly playing the game, John laughing, trying to egg him on.

Ann mumbled, “Pathetic.”

John kept swinging. “Look, Chadwick. All I'm saying is, it's not all about muscle. You could—”

“Granted. It's about knowing when to get the hell away.”

“You could have a little more training than I've got, and one elbow strike could take you down.”

Norma smiled, despite herself. It was so ridiculous—her enormous husband who could never hurt a fly. If Chadwick had half of John Zedman's bravado, he could take over the world. The guy had been security police in the military, for God's sake, but in seventeen years of marriage, not a harsh word. Not a fist through the wall. Nothing. It drove Norma crazy.

She'd married him because he was handsome and intelligent and had been in the Air Force—all of which reminded her of her father. She'd thought that she would eventually get inside his silence. She knew there was something there—a spirit that came out the few times she saw him teach his classes. Or the nights when Katherine was little, when Norma would creep close to Katherine's bedroom and listen to Chadwick's stories, the way he would bring everything alive for her. But for Norma? She tried to think of a time he'd been truly on fire for her, and she had to convince herself there had been a honeymoon period like that. More and more, she wondered if it was just her imagination.

She thought it would've been acceptable consolation if he'd just applied himself to making some money, taken a career that would get them out of that inherited dump of his in the Mission. After all, hadn't Norma given up her own plans for him, dropped out of college to raise their child? Couldn't he make some sacrifices?

Apparently, he couldn't. He still looked at her with guilt, sometimes. Sorry he'd followed his dream and become a teacher. Sorry they couldn't pay the goddamn credit card bills this month. But he'd been meant for the classroom.

The last year or so, he'd been giving her the same kind of guilty look, every time he'd come back from his camp-outs with Hunter, broaching again and again the idea that perhaps, just perhaps, Katherine was beyond their help.

She'd be damned if Chadwick would take her baby away.

She shivered, her right knee trembling against Ann's under the quilt.

“Okay, enough,” Chadwick told John, holding his hands flat.

“Yeah, but the kick is the best—”

“Come on, John. All right?”

“Oh, scared. The big man is scared now.”

Ann murmured, “I'm convinced eighth grade is just about the limit.”

“What?” Norma said. “The limit for what?”

“Men growing up.”

Ann smiled conspiratorially, and Norma wondered, Are you going to tell me? Is that what we're here for?

Something told her Ann would come clean with her tonight. She hoped so. In the end, the only thing Norma couldn't forgive would be disrespect—the disrespect of Chadwick and Ann believing she was stupid.

Surely Ann didn't think Norma had failed to notice the smell of her perfume on Chadwick's shirt that one time, back in October, the subtle change in the way Chadwick said her name, starting a few months ago. During the summer—their faculty retreat. A week in that big sprawling house on Stinson Beach, just the teachers and Ann. Plenty of time to sneak away, Norma guessed.

Norma's marriage was an eggshell, held in shape by Scotch tape. She knew that. She knew she had pushed Chadwick to be something he couldn't—pushed so hard for so many years that he'd cracked, and whatever was inside had seeped out, slowly, until he was hollow to her. But still, Norma needed to believe he would respect her enough to come clean. That was one reason, in itself, to hang on to the dying marriage—that and Katherine.

She could forgive Ann. She loved Ann. She loved her calmness, which Norma could never possess, and the way Ann really listened. When Norma had gone through breast cancer, it was Ann who helped her. No pity, no platitudes, no false sympathy—she was there from the second doctor's appointment on. She'd helped Norma accept the mastectomy, accept the fact that Katherine would now be an only child forever because the chemo had poisoned Norma's womb.

And of course Chadwick would be drawn to her for comfort. Ann was his oldest friend. Always platonic, he'd sworn—Ann knows me too well to fall for me, he'd told Norma years ago. But hell, things had changed.

Maybe Norma was crazy—still wanting Ann's friendship. But love and forgiveness had nothing to do with logic.

Tonight, despite the he**in problem, Ann had given Mallory over to Katherine without a hesitation. “I'm sure it will be fine.”