Chapter 8
There she was.
He saw her when the train pulled into Short Hills, long before she saw him.
She had not missed a beat when he had changed plans the day before and asked her to pick him up at the station. She had readily agreed, no questions asked, and there she was - straight from the office. She looked good.
She spotted him when he climbed down the step from the train, his right knee giving him as much trouble as the hole above it.
"Greg!"
"Stacy." He waited for her to reach him. "Don't look so shocked. Dead people often look a bit rough around the edges. They also smell a bit iffy." He had been on various trains for the last two days and was certain he looked like a bum by now. His torn jacket probably only completed the look.
For a moment, she simply looked him up and down. She seemed torn between joy, and shock at his appearance. Finally, she decided he was who he claimed to be and hugged him tight.
His elbow protested but the rest of him didn't. On the contrary. His hand settled on her hip as if that was its rightful place.
"I thought you were dead," she said when she finally let go.
"That was the whole idea."
She took his small holdall – the contents of the bike's hard bags had to go somewhere - and threaded her right arm through his left. He knew what she was doing but didn't resist. Still fits, he thought and was a little surprised to feel no regret.
They slowly made their way through the throng of commuters towards the car park.
"Did you have a death wish?" she wanted to know. Wilson had asked the same thing.
"What, then or now?" he asked jokingly. No, he didn't have a death wish. Not this time anyway. He still wasn't quite sure about that other time.
"Now. James called and told me you bought a motorbike. He worries, you know." She squeezed his arm a little. "What happened? Did you crash? Badly?"
House heard the worry behind the official inquisition and remembered how she used to do this, half a lifetime ago, it seemed. The more formal her voice when she asked questions, the more concerned she was.
"It's not bad. I'm just a little stiff from sitting on that damn train for a week." The lie came easily. It had certainly felt like a week and had been as bad as he had imagined when he had planned this whole journey back in Seattle. He had tried to keep his leg elevated during the trip, but couldn't occupy two seats during rush hour. So he had only been able to glare at whoever dared to sit down across from him.
Once they were in her car, Stacy just sat there and looked straight ahead for a while.
"You forget how to drive? I'm a little rusty, but I'm sure I could manage if you let me," House joked.
She didn't even turn her head to look at him.
"I was going to book a hotel for you. But Mark put his foot down and insisted you stay in our guest room. He said we owe you. He owes you."
He had not expected this. He could see the tension in her shoulders and knew she was waiting for him to say something. The problem was, he didn't know what. So he didn't say anything.
"He doesn't know about… that we…" She still looked out of the window instead of at him.
"I never expected you to tell him."
Her head finally turned. "I was close a couple of times."
"That's just stupid. For a lawyer you're too honest for your own good. Telling him doesn't serve any purpose except relieving your own conscience." He shook his head and tried to ignore the feeling of resentment rising inside. "So what's this? Are you saying you're taking me home with you but I have to promise not to tell Mark about how close you came to leaving him? That I have to be a good boy? Keep quiet about having sex with you years ago?"
"No, I… yes." She looked hurt. "I don't know!"
His hand was on the door opener. He would give anything to be able to just get out and leave now. But he couldn't.
"Look, I've come here to sort my life out. I'll be out of your hair as soon as possible. And you can tell Mark that it was my choice to stay at a hotel. He'll think it's because I don't like him. I can live with that, and he'll get over it."
"No." She paused. "I'm sorry." She looked away again and shook her head. "That's not how I wanted this to go."
It wasn't how he had wanted it to go either. After Stacy's initial shock at hearing his voice on the phone, their phone conversations had been very business-like. But the look on her face when she had spotted him at the station should have tipped him off that things wouldn't go smoothly. There had been something there, some doubt maybe, something he hadn't quite figured out yet.
House sighed and leaned his head back. "I didn't exactly plan this either."
"Start over?"
He chuckled. That's what she used to say after a fight - way back when.
"Fine by me."
She smiled, nodded and finally started the car.
"It's great to see you, Greg. I mean it. I thought I'd lost you."
"You and hundreds of other people. I bet not everyone was as sorry as you."
She laughed. "No, probably not. I imagine some of the people you've pissed off over the years were probably quite relieved."
They must have been. He hadn't wasted a single thought on them. Or on anyone else. And he didn't want to start now.
House pushed his seat back, stretched his legs as far as possible and settled in. He hadn't slept in the last 24 hours. The heating in the car, the comfortable seat and the fact that he knew Stacy was a good driver were all making it hard for him to stay awake.
"It shouldn't take us much longer than half an hour to get home," Stacy announced after leaving the car park. "It's hard to tell at this time of the day."
"Mmm…"
Relaxed and with his eyes almost closed, he was able to observe Stacy who was too busy manoeuvring the car through what went for rush hour traffic around here to notice that he wasn't actually asleep.
She had aged hardly at all since the last time he'd seen her. There might be a pound or two more on her hips as he'd discovered earlier but it suited her. She looked great. He knew that she always lost weight when she got stressed, so the little extra weight spoke volumes.
But at the moment, she clearly had lots on her mind. She looked distracted as she kept rolling her shoulders to ease out some tension whenever traffic stopped them for a while. He knew that coming back into her life was bound to cause some upheaval. There wasn't much he could do about that. As it was, Stacy was his best chance. But whatever impact he would have in the short term, it looked like things were going well for her. Moving back to Short Hills, and back with Mark, had been good for her.
"Hey, Greg," Stacy's hand was on his shoulder. "We're here, time to wake up. I've got a more comfortable bed for you inside."
"Wasn't sleeping…"
She and Mark still lived in the same house. Some renovations had been made, he was sure but he was too tired to pay attention, and Stacy was too smart to point them out to him.
He was also too tired to respond to Mark's joking. The man shook his hand when they arrived and offered him coffee 'or something stronger', but House wasn't in the mood for chit chat or drinks. He didn't care if he offended the host or not. All he wanted right now was a long, hot shower – or, better yet, a bath – and then sleep for a year.
In some feeble attempt to give the two men a chance to connect, Stacy said she needed to change and let Mark show their guest to his room.
House was tired but he wasn't so out of it that he didn't notice the other man's slight limp when he followed him down a long, narrow hallway.
"When did you stop going to physio?"
"When my therapist told me I was done," Mark countered and stopped. "I won't run any marathons, but then I never did, so I don't miss it much."
"Should've known you'd do things by the book," House snorted.
"I limp a little when I get tired, that's all. I'm fine, thanks to you." He looked at House. "Seriously, thank you."
House shook his head. "Only did my job."
Mark hesitated as if he considered saying something else. But he let the moment pass. Instead, he turned around and opened the door to a large, bright room.
"This used to be the den. We turned it into a bedroom-cum-office for Stacy when she's working late. There's a small bathroom, too. The train from Chicago is a nightmare – I think you'll be glad we chose a tub over a shower stall."
Several more explanations about the features of the room and an invitation to dinner later, and House let out a sigh of relief and dropped onto the bed.
