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SUMMER INTERNSHIP POSITIONS/DEPARTMENT 12 page

She turned around and Johnny was there, waiting for her. "I'm sorry."

"You should be."

"One of the things about this business, Katie, is that you learn to compartmentalize, to put the story first. It's a hazard of the trade."

"It's always about the story with people like you and Tully." She left him standing there and went to the sofa, where she sat down. Bowing her head, she prayed again.

After a moment she felt him come up beside her. When he didn't say anything, she looked up.

He didn't move, didn't even blink, but she could see how tense he was. He seemed to be holding on to his composure by a rapidly fraying thread. "You're tougher than you look, Mularkey."

"Sometimes." She wanted to say that love gave her strength, especially during a time like this, but she was afraid to even say the word while she was looking at him.

He sat down slowly beside her. "When did you get to know me so well?"

"It's a small office."

"That's not it. No one else knows me like you do." He sighed and leaned back. "I did put her in danger."

"She wouldn't have it any other way," she conceded. "We both know that."

"I know, but . . ."

When he let his sentence trail off, she looked at him. "Do you love her?"

He didn't respond at all, just sat there, leaning back, with his eyes closed.

She couldn't stand it. Now that she'd finally dared to ask the question, she wanted it answered. "Johnny?"

He reached over for her, put an arm around her shoulder, and drew her to him. She sank into the comfort he offered. It felt as natural as breathing being beside him like this, though she knew how dangerous that feeling was.

There, saying nothing more, they sat together through the long, empty hours of the night. Waiting.


Tully came awake slowly, taking stock of her surroundings: white acoustic-tile ceiling, bars of fluorescent lighting, silver rails on her bed, and a tray beside her.

Memories trickled into her consciousness: Beacon Hill. The mini-mart. She remembered the gun being pointed at her. And the pain.

"You'll do anything to get attention, won't you?" Kate stood by the door, wearing a pair of baggy UW sweatpants and an old Greek Week T-shirt. As she approached the bed, tears filled her eyes. She wiped them away impatiently. "Damn. I swore I wouldn't cry."

"Thank God you're here." Tully hit the button on her bed control until she was sitting up

"Of course I'm here, you idiot. Everyone is here. Chad, Mutt, Mom, Dad. Johnny. He and my dad have been playing cards for hours and talking about the news. Mom has made at least two new afghans. We've been so worried."

"Was I good?"

Kate laughed at that even as tears spilled down her cheeks. "That would be your first question. Johnny said you kicked Jessica Savitch's ass."

"I wonder if 60 Minutes will want to interview me."



Kate closed the distance between them. "Don't scare me like that again, okay?"

"I'll try not to."

Before Kate could say anything, the door opened and Chad stood in the doorway, holding a pair of Styrofoam coffee cups. "She's awake," he said quietly, putting the cups down on the table beside him.

"She just opened her eyes. Of course, she's more interested in her chances of winning an Emmy than in her recovery." Kate looked down at her friend. "I'll leave you two alone for a minute."

"You won't leave, though?" Tully said.

"I'll come back later, when everyone else has gone home."

"Good," Tully said. "'Cause I need you."

As soon as Kate was gone, Chad moved closer. "I thought I'd lost you."

"I'm fine," she said impatiently. "Did you see the broadcast? What do you think?"

"I think you're not fine, Tully," he said softly. "You're farther from fine than anyone I know, but I love you. And all night I've been thinking about what my life would be without you and I don't like what I see."

"Why would you lose me? I'm right here."

"Marry me, Tully."

She almost laughed, thinking it was a joke; then she saw the fear in his eyes. He really was afraid of losing her. "You mean it," she said, frowning.

"I got offered a job at Vanderbilt in Tennessee. I want you to come with me. You love me, Tully, even if you don't know it. And you need me."

"Of course I need you. Is Tennessee a top forty market?"

His rough face crumpled at that; his smile faded. "I love you," he said again, softly this time and without the kiss to seal the words and give them weight.

The door behind him opened. Mrs. Mularkey stood there, arms akimbo, wearing a cheap jean skirt and a plaid blouse with a Peter Pan collar. She looked like an extra from Footloose. "The nurse said five more minutes with visitors and then they're throwing us all out."

Chad bent down and kissed her. It was a beautiful, haunting kiss that somehow managed both to bring them together and highlight how far apart they could be. "I loved you, Tully," he whispered.

Loved? Had he said loved? As in past tense? "Chad—"

He turned away from the bed. "She's all yours, Margie."

"Sorry to kick you out," Mrs. Mularkey said.

"Don't worry about it. I think my time was up. Goodbye, Tully." He walked past her and left the room, letting the door bang shut behind him.

"Hey, little girl," Mrs. Mularkey said.

Tully surprised herself by bursting into tears.

Mrs. Mularkey just stroked her hair and let her cry.

"I guess I was really scared."

"Shhh," Mrs. Mularkey said soothingly, drying her tears with a Kleenex. "Of course you were, but we're here now. You're not alone."

Tully cried until the pressure in her chest eased and the tears dried up. Finally, feeling better, she wiped her eyes and tried to smile. "Okay. I'm ready for my lecture now."

Mrs. Mularkey gave her The Look. "Your professor, Tallulah?"

"Ex-professor. That's why I never told you. And you'd say he was too old for me."

"Do you love him?"

"How would I know?"

"You'd know."

Tully stared up at Mrs. M. For once, she felt like the older of them, the one with more experience. The Mularkeys all saw love as a durable, reliable thing, easy to recognize. Tully might be young, but she knew they were wrong. Love could be more fragile than a sparrow's bone. But she wouldn't say it out loud. Instead, all she said was, "Maybe."


Overnight, Tully became a media sensation in Seattle. Newspaperman Emmett Watson took a break from ranting about the Californication of Washington State to write a column about courage under fire and how proud we should be of Tallulah Hart's commitment to the news. Radio station KJR dedicated a whole day of rock 'n' roll songs to the "news chick who used a microphone to stop a robbery," and even Almost Live, the local comedy show, aired a segment that made fun of the bumbling robber and showed Tully in a Wonder Woman outfit.

Flowers and balloons poured into her hospital room, many of them signed by people who normally made the news themselves. By Wednesday, she'd had to start donating the beautiful bouquets and arrangements to other patients. The nurses in charge of her learned how to be bodyguards and bouncers in addition to their normal jobs.

"So, you're the genius here. What do I do?" She sat up in bed, going through the pile of pink While You Were Out messages that Kate had brought with her from the office. It was an impressive list of names, but she was having trouble concentrating. Her arm hurt and the sling made even little tasks difficult. Worst of all, she couldn't stop thinking about Chad's out-of-left-field proposal. "I mean: Tennessee. I might as well be in Nebraska."

"For sure."

"How can I get to the top in a place like that? Or maybe that's exactly where I could get to the top fast and get noticed by the networks."

Kate sat at the other end of the bed, her legs stretched out alongside Tully's. "Look. We've been talking about this for, like, an hour. Maybe I'm not the best person to ask, but it seems to me that at some point you've got to at least mention love."

"Your mom said I'd know if I loved him." She looked down at her bare left hand, trying to imagine a diamond ring.

"You said I was supposed to shoot you if you even thought about marriage before thirty." Kate grinned. "You want to amend that?"

"Very funny."

The bedside phone rang. Still staring at her hand, she picked it up quickly, hoping it was Chad. "Hello?"

"Tallulah Hart?"

She sighed, disappointed. "This is she."

"I'm Fred Rorbach. You may remember me . . ."

"Of course I remember you. KILO-TV. I sent you a résumé every week for my entire senior year of high school, and then I sent you tapes in college. How are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks, but I'm at KLUE-TV now, not KILO. I'm running the evening news."

"Congratulations."

"Actually, that's why I'm calling. We're probably not the first station to call you, but we feel certain we'll make the best offer."

He had her full attention now. "Oh, really?"

Kate slid off the bed and stood next to Tully, mouthing: What's the buzz?

Tully waved her off. "Tell me about it."

"We want to do whatever it takes to make you part of the KLUE news family. When can you come in to talk to me about this?"

"I'm being discharged right now. How about tomorrow? Ten A.M."

"We'll see you then."

Tully hung up the phone and shrieked. "That was KLUE-TV. They want to hire me!"

"Oh, my gosh," Kate said, jumping up and down. "You're going to be a star. I knew it. I can't wait to—" She stopped in the middle of her sentence; her smile fell.

"What?"

"Chad."

Tully felt something twist deep inside her. She wanted to pretend there was something to think about, a decision to be made, but she knew the truth, and so did Kate.

"You're going to be a huge star," Kate said firmly. "He'll understand."



CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 


Kate pretended to focus all of her attention on driving Tully's car, but it wasn't easy. Ever since she'd picked her up from the interview, Tully hadn't stopped talking, spinning out the old little-girl dreams. We're on our way, Kate. As soon as I get an anchor spot, I'll make sure they hire you as a reporter.

Kate knew she should put the brakes—finally—on this dual future of theirs. She was tired of following Tully, and besides, she didn't want to quit her job. She had a reason, finally, to stay where she was.

Johnny.

How pathetic was that? He didn't love her, but she couldn't help thinking that maybe with Tully gone, she'd have a chance.

It was ridiculous, and embarrassing, but her dreams centered more on him and less on broadcasting. Not that she could admit that to anyone. Twenty-five-year-old college-educated women were expected to dream of more money and higher positions on the corporate ladder and running the very companies that had refused to hire their mothers. Husbands were to be avoided in the pre-thirty years. There was always time for marriage and children; was the common refrain. You couldn't give up you for them.

But what if you wanted them more than you wanted a singular, powerful you? No one ever talked about that. Kate knew that Tully would laugh at such thoughts, say Kate was stuck in the fifties. Even her mother would say she was wrong and bring up that weighted word: regret. She'd parrot the words that filled the pages of Ms. magazine—that being just a mother was a waste of talent. Her mother wouldn't even notice how sad she looked as she spoke, as if the life she'd chosen had been for nothing.

"Hey, you missed the turn."

"Oh. Sorry." Kate turned at the next block and circled back, pulling up in front of Chad's house. "I'll wait here. I've got The Talisman to finish."

Tully didn't open her door. "He'll understand why I can't marry him yet. He knows how much this means to me."

"He certainly knows," Kate agreed.

"Wish me luck."

"Don't I always?"

Tully got out and walked up to the front door.

Kate opened her paperback and dove into the story. It wasn't until much later that she looked up, noticing it had begun to rain.

Tully should have come back by now, told her to drive on home, that she'd be spending the night with Chad. Kate closed the book and got out of the car. As she walked up the cement path, she had a bad feeling that something was wrong.

She knocked twice, then opened the door.

Tully was in an empty living room, kneeling in front of the fireplace, crying.

Tully handed her a piece of paper that was splotched with tears. "Read it."

Kate sat back on her heels and looked down at the bold black handwriting.

Dear Tully, I was the one who recommended you to KLUE, so I know all about the job you've come to tell me about, and I'm proud of you, baby. I knew you could do it. When I took the job at Vanderbilt I knew what it meant for us. I hoped . . . but I knew. You want a lot from this world, Tully. Me, I just want you. It ain't exactly lock-and-key perfect, is it? Here's what matters: I'll always love you. Light the world on fire. It was signed simply, C.

"I thought he loved me," Tully said when Kate handed her back the letter.

"It sounds like he does."

"Then why would he leave me?"

Kate looked at her friend, hearing the distant echo of all the times Tully had been abandoned by her mother. "Did you ever tell him you loved him?"

"I couldn't."

"Maybe you don't love him, then."

"Or maybe I do," Tully said, sighing. "It's just so damned hard to believe in."

That was the fundamental difference between them. Kate believed in love with all her heart; unfortunately, she'd fallen in love with a man who didn't know she existed. "What matters now is your career, anyway. There's always time for love and marriage."

"Yeah. When I've made it."

"Yeah."

"Someone will definitely love me then."

"The whole world will love you."

But later, long after Tully had said, "Screw him anyway," and laughed a little desperately, Kate couldn't expel those last words from her mind. Suddenly she was worried.

What if someday the whole world loved Tully and it still wasn't enough?


Tully had forgotten how long and lonely a night could be. For so many years, Chad had been her protection, her port. With him, she'd learned to sleep through the night, breathing peacefully, dreaming only of her bright future, and because he'd loved her, she'd slept well in her own bed, too, on their nights apart, comforted by the knowledge that she could go to him anytime.

She threw the covers back and got out of bed. A quick glance at the alarm clock on her nightstand revealed that it was just past two o'clock in the morning.

As she'd thought: long and lonely.

In the kitchen, she put a pot of water on the stove and stood there, waiting for it to boil.

Maybe she'd made a mistake. Maybe this emptiness she felt right now was love. With the life she'd led it made sense that she would notice the negative of an emotion rather than the positive. But if she did love him, what difference did it make? What would she do? Follow him to Tennessee and settle in university housing and become Mrs. Wiley? How would she be the next Jean Enersen or Jessica Savitch then?

She got a big KVTS cup out of the cupboard and poured her tea, then went to the living room, where she sat on the couch, tucking her feet beneath her, warming her cold hands on the porcelain. Fragrant steam floated upward. She closed her eyes and tried to let her mind clear.

"Can't sleep?"

She glanced up and saw Kate, who stood in front of her bedroom door, wearing the same flannel nightgown she'd worn for years. Tully usually teased her that she looked like one of the Waltons, but tonight she appreciated the familiarity. It was funny how a single garment could remind you of years together—slumber parties and makeovers and breakfasts spent watching Saturday morning cartoons. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"You walk like an elephant. Is there more tea water?"

"The pot is on the stove."

Kate went into the kitchen and came back with a cup of tea and a box of Screaming Yellow Zonkers. Tossing the box between them, she sat down facing Tully, leaning against the arm of the sofa. "You okay?"

"My shoulder hurts like hell."

"When did you take your last pain pill?"

"I'm overdue."

Kate put down her cup, went into the bathroom, and came out with a Percodan and a glass of water.

Tully took the pill and washed it down.

"Now," Kate said, retaking her seat. "You want to talk about what's really wrong?"

"No."

"Come on, Tully. I know you're thinking about Chad, wondering if you did the right thing."

"This is the problem with forever friends. They know too much."

"Maybe."

"And what do you and I know about love anyway?"

Kate's face took on that sad, semi-judgmental look that Tully hated. It was almost a poor-Tully look. "I know about love," she said quietly. "Maybe not being in love or being loved, but I know about loving someone and how much it can hurt. I think if you really loved Chad, you'd know it, and you'd be in Tennessee right now. At least, if I loved someone, I'd know it."

"Everything is always black and white with you. How do you always know what you want?"

"You know what you want, Tully. You always have."

"So I don't get to fall in love? That's my price for fame and success? Always being alone?"

"Of course you can fall in love. You just have to let yourself. They don't call it falling for nothing."

The words should have comforted Tully; they were intended to be hopeful, she knew that, but just then, she couldn't feel that optimism. Rather, she felt colder and emptier having heard them from Kate. "There's something missing in me," she said quietly. "First my dad saw it. Whoever the hell he is; he must have taken one look at me and run. And let's not even discuss my loving mother. I'm . . . easy to leave. Why is that?"

Kate scooted down the couch, leaned against Tully just the way they used to, all those years ago on the banks of the Pilchuck. The snack box poked into her back and she pulled it out from behind her and tossed it onto the messy, newspaper-strewn coffee table. "There's nothing missing in you, Tully. It's the opposite, in fact. You're more than most people. You are really, really special, and if Chad didn't see that—or couldn't wait for you to be ready for him—then he wasn't the guy for you. Maybe that's a normal problem when you're with an older guy. He's ready to land when you're just taking off."

"That's true. I am young. I forgot about that. He should have understood that and waited for me. I mean, if he really loved me, how could he have left me? Could you leave someone you loved?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

"If I thought he was ever going to love me back."

"How long would you wait?"

"A long time."

That made Tully feel better for the first time since she'd read the note from Chad. "You're right. I loved him, but I guess he didn't love me. Not enough anyway."

Kate frowned. "That's not exactly what I said."

"Close enough. We're way too young to get tied down by love. How could I have forgotten that?" She gave Kate a hug. "What would I do without you?"

It wasn't until much later, after a long and sleepless night, as Tully lay in bed watching another day dawn through the window, that her own words came back to her, haunting in their intensity. Easy to leave.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 


From the moment Tully took the new job, Kate found herself watching her friend's life from a distance. Month after month passed with them living separate lives, connected only by place. By the following summer's end, their tiny apartment, once the container of their lives, had become something of a way station. Tully spent twelve hours a day, seven days a week, working. When she wasn't technically at work, she was chasing down leads and following stories, trying like hell to do something—anything—that would put her in front of the camera.

Without Tully, Kate's life lost its shape, and like some overwashed sweater, no amount of positioning or folding could make it right again. Her mother told her repeatedly to snap out of her funk and start dating, have some fun, but how could she date when she had no interest in the guys who had interest in her?

Tully did not suffer from the same malaise. While she still cried about Chad when they were drinking late at night, she had no problem meeting guys and bringing them home. Kate had yet to see the same guy come out of Tully's bedroom twice. According to Tully, that was the plan. She had, or so she said, no intention of falling in love. In retrospect, of course, Tully came to believe that she'd loved Chad desperately, so much so that no other man could measure up. But not enough, as Kate repeatedly pointed out, to call him or move to Tennessee.

To be honest, Kate was growing tired of her friend's drunken reminiscences about the epic love she'd had for Chad.

Kate knew what love was, how it could turn you inside out and dry up your heart. An unreturned love was a bleak and terrible thing. All day long, every day, she moved like a lesser planet in Johnny's orbit, watching him, wanting him, aching for him in lonely silence.

After that long night spent together in the hospital waiting room, Kate had thought there might actually be some hope. She'd felt that a door had opened between them; they'd talked easily, and about important things. But whatever inroads had been made in the bright light of the waiting room had faded with the dawn. She'd never forget the look on his face when he learned that Tully would be fine. It was more than relief.

That was when he'd pulled away from her.

Now finally it was time for her to pull away from him. Time to leave her little girl fantasies in the sandbox along with other forgotten toys and move on. He didn't love her. Any dreams to the contrary were simply that.

It couldn't go on anymore. That was the decision she'd made at work today, while she stood in the doorway to his office, waiting for him to notice she was there.

As soon as her workday had ended, she'd gone to the newsstand in the Public Market and purchased all the local papers. While Tully was out bar-hopping with her guy du jour, or working late, Kate intended to rechart the course of her life.

Sitting at the kitchen table, with her half-eaten dinner still in cartons around her, she opened the Seattle Times and turned to the classified section. There, she saw several interesting choices. Reaching for a pen, she was about to circle one when the door behind her opened.

She turned around and saw Tully in the doorway; her friend wore her dating clothes—an artfully torn sweatshirt that exposed one bare shoulder, jeans tucked into slouchy ankle boots, and a big low-slung belt. Her hair had been puffed up around her face and pulled into a bright banana clip over her left ear. An ornate set of crucifixes hung from around her neck.

Of course she had a guy with her; she was draped all over him.

"Hey, Katie," she said in a slurred I've-already-had-three-margaritas voice. "Look who I ran into."

The guy stepped out from behind the door.

Johnny.

"Hey, Mularkey," he said, smiling. "Tully wants you to come dancing with us."

She closed the newspaper with exaggerated care. "No, thanks."

"Come on, Katie. It'll be like old times," Tully said. "The Three Musketeers."

"I don't think so."

Tully let go of Johnny's hand and half stumbled, half lunged toward her. "Please," she said. "I had a bad day today. I need you."

"Don't," Kate started, but Tully wasn't listening.

"We'll go to Kells."

"Come on, Mularkey," Johnny said, moving toward her. "It'll be fun."

The way he smiled made it impossible to say no, even though she knew it was a bad idea to join them.

"Okay," she said. "I'll get dressed."

She went into her bedroom and put on a sparkly blue dress with shoulder pads and a cinch belt. By the time she came back out of her room, Johnny had Tully pressed up against the wall, with her hands over her head and his hands covering hers, and was kissing her.

"I'm ready," Kate said dully.

Tully wiggled out from underneath Johnny and grinned at her. "Excellent. Let's rock 'n' roll."

Three abreast, their arms linked, they walked out of the apartment and down the empty cobblestone street. At Kells Irish Pub, they found a small empty table close to the dance floor.

The minute Johnny left to get them drinks, Kate looked across the table. "What are you doing with him?"

Tully laughed. "What can I say? We ran into each other after work and had a few drinks. One thing led to another, and . . ." She looked sharply at Kate. "Do you care if I sleep with him?"

There it was. The question that mattered. Kate had no doubt that if she bared her soul and told the truth, this horrible night would be over. Tully would shut Johnny down faster than a storm door in a tornado, and she wouldn't tell Johnny why.

But what good would come of that? Kate knew how Johnny felt about Tully, how he'd always felt. He wanted a woman with passion and fire; losing Tully wouldn't make him turn to Kate. And maybe it was time for drastic measures, finally. Kate's hope had endured so much, but this—him sleeping with Tully—would be the end of it.

She lifted her gaze, praying her eyes were dry. "Come on, Tully, you know better than that."

"Are you sure? Do you want—"

"No. But . . . he cares about you, you do know that, right? You could break his heart."

Tully laughed at that. "You Catholic girls worry about everyone, don't you?"

Before Kate could answer, Johnny returned to the table with two margaritas and a bottle of beer. Setting them down, he took Tully's hand and dragged her onto the floor. There, they melted into the crowd, where he took her into his arms and kissed her.

Kate reached for her drink. She had no idea what that kiss meant to Tully, but she knew what it meant to Johnny, and the knowledge seeped through her like some kind of poison.

For the next two hours, she sat with them, drinking heavily, pretending she was having fun. All the while something inside of her was slowly dying.

At some point during the endless, excruciating evening, Tully went to the bathroom and left Johnny and Kate alone. She tried to think of something to say to him, but frankly, she didn't dare make eye contact. With his damp, curling hair and flushed cheeks, he looked so damned sexy it made her chest ache.

"She's really something," he said. Behind him, the band finished their song and turned to their sheet music for inspiration. "I was starting to think it would never happen . . . her and me," he said, sipping his beer, gazing back toward the bathroom, as if he could draw her back by will alone.

"You should be careful," Kate said almost too quietly to be heard. She knew the words, and the warning, would reveal something of her heart, but she couldn't help herself. Johnny might wear the suit of a cynic at work, but at the hospital she'd learned the truth. Inside, where it mattered, he was an idealist. No one bruised as easily as a believer. She should know.


Date: 2015-12-17; view: 572


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