1Before There Was Darkness LongLashes1
Part Fifteen
It was teeming rain, cold, heavy torrents of rain that, were they delivered in a solitary act of mother nature, would have ensured traveling conditions couldn't be any more miserable. But, this morning, as if to compound that misery, the rain was driven by the lashing winds of an unexpected cold front, sweeping in across the city from the east. It bounced off the roadway, ricocheted off the hood of the car and flowed in swift currents down the windshield. The steady, metrical slap of the wipers, positioned on the highest setting, was useless against the onslaught.
Jim strained forward in the driver's seat in a desperate attempt to follow the curve of the asphalt, both hands on the wheel, his knuckles white from the exertion of trying to maintain his lane, battling a stiffening wind that seemed intent on blowing the car off the road. The white line, the one thing he should have been able to rely on, a beacon to guide him, was lost to the sea of gray shrouding the car. He shot a quick glance sideways at Christie, sitting silently, nervously, in the passenger seat, idly twisting her engagement ring round and round with her right hand, her eyes also focused on trying to maintain sight of the road ahead.
"Hey, Baby," Jim said, searching for a sign, anything to indicate an exit, "I'm going to pull over for a few minutes and see if this rain doesn't let up a bit. Honestly, I'm driving blind. I can't see a thing."
She breathed a sigh of relief. "Good idea. If we're where I think we are, there should be a rest area coming up soon. It's not going to be much of a weekend in the Hamptons if it stays like this. I checked the weather yesterday; they didn't say anything about this, they said a chance of rain."
"It was obviously a really good chance," he joked. She didn't look amused. "Hey, don't worry about it, okay? I love the rain; I just don't like driving in it, not when it's like this." Grinning, he added, "But I can think of a few things we can do to stay occupied if it doesn't let up."
"Jimmy, you're terrible. At my parent's house?" she shot back, teasingly.
"I'll be quiet, promise! You on the other hand…"
She swatted his arm. "You deserved that."
The day had started out on such a positive note. When he had finally given in to the reveille of the alarm clock and dragged himself to a sitting position, he could hear her humming in the kitchen. Meeting him in the hallway, she held out a mug of steaming coffee.
"Oh, you're up," she said brightly.
"Good morning." He kissed her tenderly on the cheek. "Why didn't you wake me?"
"Because you're the one who has to drive. And, after the late night you put in last night, I thought you could use the extra shut-eye." He followed her back to the bedroom, perching himself on the corner of the bed, watching as she ran through her mental list of four days of necessities for a trip out of town. Her suitcase already held twice as much as his; a symptom, he was sure, of her seemingly constant need to look her absolute best.
"Did you pack a jacket or a sport coat? I'm sure we'll go for dinner at least once this weekend."
"Not yet, but I will. Don't worry."
"So, other than that, what's left to do?" she asked, placing the last of her clothes into the suitcase and zipping it up.
"I'll finish my coffee, grab a quick shower, throw the rest of my things into the suitcase and we're good to go. Unless," he said, reaching out and pulling her to him, burying his face against the softness of her silk pajamas, "I can convince you that another hour or so won't make a difference, one way or the other."
"Sounds tempting, Detective, believe me. And I might consider taking you up on that offer, but I am so ready to get out of here and get this weekend started." She leaned down and kissed him before wrestling herself out of his grasp.
"Alright," he said, feigning disappointment, "give me 15 minutes. I'll be ready."
"Oh, I can't wait, Jimmy. This is going to be fun," she said, her expression replete with excitement.
He understood that excitement, wanted desperately to feel it too, for her sake, to share in her enthusiasm, but four days with his potential in-laws wasn't an event he was particularly looking forward to. He felt trapped, committed, forced into something he wasn't the least bit ready to face. At the same time, he also accepted that there was absolutely no sense in putting off the inevitable. This meeting would happen, one way or the other; it had to since there was now absolutely no doubt about her importance in his life. After a great deal of talking on her part, convincing him that this was something they needed to do, sooner rather than later, and some wrangling with the work schedule, he had finally given in and agreed to spend the Thanksgiving holiday in the Hamptons, with her family.
The sign for the exit loomed eerily out of the fog. He flipped up the turn signal and eased the car over, pulling safely into the rest area. Shutting off the engine, he unfastened his seatbelt and leaned back against the door. A distant, dull throb was just beginning to emanate from the base of his skull; his eyes were already tired. He closed them and rubbed his hand deliberately across his brow.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine. I feel a headache coming on, though. A big one."
"Is it any wonder? God, I hope this lets up." She looked longingly out the window. There was absolutely nothing to see, everything around them lost to the weather.
Tilting his seat back, he stretched his long frame out as comfortably as the cramped space would permit and turned to her. "Hey, can I ask you something? And don't go getting defensive on me, okay? Why are we staying at your parent's house? Couldn't we have found a room somewhere?"
"Come on, Jimmy. They want us there, with them this weekend, to have some time to get to know you. After all, you are marrying their little girl. And, with your job and the hours you seem to keep, who knows when we might have another opportunity like this?"
That much was true. Occasions like this, where he could take a break and breathe, were few and far between.
"But, you have to know that I find situations like this just a little uncomfortable."
"I know you do," she said softly, "but these people are going to be your in-laws, Jimmy. You're going to have to figure out a way to get comfortable with them at some point in time; may as well start now."
"Alright, alright, but if I'm going to survive at all this weekend, you have to help me out here so I know what I'm up against, okay?"
"So, where do you want to start?"
"Your Mom?"
"Lillian, remember? She's an artist, at least she thinks she is. Loves to garden, golf and play bridge. She's a philanthropist, everyone's friend. There isn't anything she wouldn't do for you. People say I look just like her."
He smiled. If that were true, he would have an idea of what Christie might look like thirty years down the road. "And your sister? Older?"
"Erica. Two years older than me, looks more like Daddy, a free spirit, a wanderer, working on her Ph.D., slowly, though, still searching for what it is she wants to be when she grows up. I'm certainly not expecting her to figure that out anytime soon!" She leaned over, turned his face to hers and smiled. "But, I have absolutely no doubt she will love you, Jimmy."
"If you say so."
"Oh, I know so."
"And, your Dad, Stewart, right?" She nodded. "He's in advertising?"
She nodded again, but there was something odd in her expression; he read it immediately. "Alright, Christie. Out with it. What have you been keeping from me?"
"Nothing, it's just that I may have omitted a little detail or two."
He looked puzzled. "Like what? Come on, spill."
"It's true, my Dad is in advertising." She hesitated. "Actually, some say that he is advertising. Have you heard of Sullivan and Hooks?"
"Yeah, but who hasn't?" The realization of what she had just said suddenly dawned on him. There was nothing he could do to mask the shock in his voice or, he was sure, the expression on his face. "Jesus Christ, Christie, you're that Sullivan?"
"No, Jim." she said firmly, "My Dad is that Sullivan. I just happen to be his daughter."
"And when you say you grew up in the Hamptons, what are we talking about here? Not one of those nice little summer homes that line the main street, I'm sure."
"No, it's not, Jimmy. But what difference does that make? I'm no more responsible for that than you are for your roots."
"It might make a huge difference. God, Christie, think about it. How the hell are they going to feel about you being engaged to a guy from Red Hook? A cop at that? I'm sure that's not quite what your Daddy had in mind for you."
"Jimmy, please." She reached over and took his hand. "I am sure that what he had in mind for me was for me to be happy. And you make me so happy; that's all that matters."
"Maybe to you…" His voice trailed off. When he spoke again, there was an edge to it. "You could have told me all of this a long time ago."
Her voice was quiet in response. "I know. And maybe I should have, but I never judged you based on where you came from. I don't think you're being very fair."
"Fair? This is not the same thing."
It was her turn to sound defensive. "Why, Jimmy? What makes this so different? Explain that to me, please?"
He wished he could take this conversation in a different direction but with those deep-seeded insecurities brought so quickly to the forefront, who he was, where he came from, his measure of self-worth, all of it a manifestation of being put down more often than lifted by the words of the one man who should have so positively influenced his life, it was too late; there was no way to back down now.
"It just is, okay? Christie, you know I don't come from the all-American family or a background I can talk about openly. How the hell am I supposed to answer the kind of questions they are bound to ask?"
"You answer them honestly, Jimmy, that's how. God, you are so damn stubborn. And it's not that you can't talk about it; you won't."
"No, Christie, I can't," he said, decisively. "You of all people should understand that. If that's what is going to be expected of me this weekend, then maybe I should turn this car around right now, because I am not about to sit through four days of hell so your parents can satisfy themselves that I am not at all what they had in mind for a son-in-law."
"I don't believe this, Jimmy. How dare you walk into their home with a preconceived notion of them and what they will or won't think of you. You're not even going to give this, or them, a chance, are you? You've already got it all figured out. But I'll tell you what, James Dunbar, if anyone is being unreasonable about all of this, it's you."
"Am I really, Christie? You think about it and then you tell me how I'm supposed to live up to all of those expectations."
"Jimmy, please."
He held up both hands, dismissing her instantly. "This conversation is over. God, I have to get out here, I need some space," he said, his anger on the verge of boiling over. Before she could say anything else, he snapped his seat upright and threw the car door open.
"Jimmy, don't, please…" but it was too late; he slammed it shut and disappeared into the fog and the driving rain.