Nocturne(87)

Were we?

“I don’t understand,” I said, my voice dry. “When … did she have a doctor appointment?”

“Gregory ... are you saying … you didn’t know?”

“Of course I didn’t know,” I hissed. “I’ve never wanted children. And she knew that.” It didn’t make any sense. Why would she go get testing without telling me? For that matter, why does anyone get fertility testing unless they’d been trying to have a baby? Had she? She was on the pill ... that much I knew. It was one of the first questions I asked when we were dating. But now I was asking myself if she’d decided to stop taking them. If she’d decided to have a baby without discussing it with me. Had she only brought it up because it wasn’t working?

What the hell is wrong with her? A wash of rage and guilt and confusion ran through me in a muddled mess, and I didn’t have the first clue what to think or feel.

Madeline was silent at the other end of the call. So I sat, watching the occasional light flash by, listening to the tracks rumble underneath the car, and then the door to the sleeper opened up, hitting me in the side.

“God damn it!”

In the bright light from the train hallway stood Nathan. Who gave me a murderous look as he stared at me, sitting on the floor in the car.

“Madeline, I’ve got to go,” I said, scrambling to my feet.

“Wait!” she called out.

“Seriously ...”

“No,” she replied, her voice firm. “You listen to me for a moment.”

“Now is awkward,” I replied.

Nathan was swaying in the doorway. He didn’t look drunk. But he did look furious.

“Gregory,” she said. “I’m not going to judge you. I’ve known you and Savannah for a long time. And ... when she was a student I did my best to keep you apart. Because it was my responsibility. But … it’s been obvious for a long time. But my support ends …” She paused, and I heard her sniff. “My support ends if you hurt that girl. Do you understand me?”

I closed my eyes. Then I said, “Yes, Madeline. I understand. I’ll call you in the next day or so, all right?”

“Good night, Gregory.”

We hung up. Just in time, because a pugnacious Nathan Connors pushed his way into the room and slung his bag onto the top bunk.

“Nathan,” I said.

“I want to talk with you, Fitzgerald.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Whatever for?”

“You screwing Savannah.”

Something about his obnoxious little face, or the contemptuous wording he used, infuriated me. Not to mention the fact that she’d spoken to Nathan, of all people, about it. I'd been right to be concerned she'd choose him to speak with. I’d have been happier if she’d picked just about anyone else on earth to confide in. Anyone else.

“Don’t you dare speak about her that way,” I said.

His cheeks were red, his eyes wide, aggressive. “That’s a f*cking laugh, Fitzgerald. You break my friend’s heart, and you tell me not to talk about her in a way that displeases you?”

I leveled my gaze at him and said, “Nathan, I really don’t have time for this right now. You’re standing in between me and the lounge car.”

“You leave her alone,” he said. “You don’t talk to her. You don’t touch her. You don’t f*cking hurt her.”

I’d had enough. I’d awakened that morning in absolute bliss, with the love of my life beside me, only to have my wife destroy that moment. My wife, who was busy trying to get pregnant without asking me. I’d been yelled at, watched Savannah run off into traffic, I’d hit my head, been kept up on a train half the night, been forced to room with a too young and far too irritating member of this orchestra, and now I had to listen to this? I was done.

“Get out of my way. Now.”

He stepped back. The menace in my tone was unmistakable. I held a finger up in his face. “The fact that we’re colleagues does not make you my equal, Mr. Connors. You will never speak to me that way again. I care for that woman more than you can possibly imagine.”

His eyes narrowed, and he took a breath to speak, but I pushed him back. “Don’t cross me, Nathan.”

He muttered, “If you hurt her, I’ll ruin you, Fitzgerald. Your precious f*cking career will never survive it. I guarantee you that.”

I leaned close to him and said in a low tone, “Just remember when you make threats, that I was sitting in my seat with the Boston Symphony before you were even old enough to care about girls and their feelings. I have enough pull to make your f*cking career miserable. Now back the f*ck off.” Then I backed up, opened the door to the sleeper and walked out into the corridor.

I wasn’t proud of myself. I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t anything but pissed off and sorely in need of a drink. Five minutes later I found my way to the lounge car. Two minutes after that I’d tossed back my first gin and tonic and ordered another. It was late, and I was tired, and we had a long day ahead of us tomorrow. I was regretting accepting a seat on this roving tour. I was too old for this crap, and the last thing I needed to deal with was Nathan f*cking Connors back in my room.

I shook my head. The hell of it was ... if it was true? That Karin had just found out she was sterile, or infertile, or whatever the hell they call it? Then I was stuck with her, at least for the time being. Because what kind of bastard leaves his wife when she's heartbroken?