Thorne's Wife

by Joan Hohl

“Mon Dieu!” Jean-Paul exploded.

  “That’s enough, Lynn!” Marge ordered.

  “The checkbook is closed.” Jonas’s frigid voice cut through the uproar.

  Checkbook? Val frowned. Confused, she shifted her gaze to Lynn. The woman’s stricken expression startled her. Val didn’t understand. Since Jonas had obtained his divorce from Lynn on the grounds of desertion, he had not been required to pay her any alimony or support. Yet from what he had just said, it was obvious Jonas had been supporting Lynn on a voluntary basis, and his coldly stated decision to cease writing checks had shaken the woman considerably.

  “Jonas, you wouldn’t!” Lynn cried.

  “You think not?” Jonas’s eyes were as cold as his voice. “Watch me.”

  Val knew that expression. Jonas used it whenever he was dead set on a course of action. When Jonas said “Watch me” in that tone of voice, everyone around him searched for cover.

  “But, Jonas,” Lynn said. “What will I do for money? How will I live?”

  Jonas had been supporting Lynn! Shock jolted through Val. All these years. She had never so much as suspected….

  “You could go to work,” Jonas suggested dryly.

  The color drained from Lynn’s face. “But I have no training! I could never earn enough—”

  “To provide the luxuries my money has afforded you,” he finished for her. Lynn turned pleading eyes to her daughter, but before she could utter a word, Jonas said, “And don’t look to Mary Beth for support, because I’ll stop her allowance and convince Jean-Paul to withhold his money.”

  Lynn’s lovely mouth curled into an ugly twist, and she lashed out at him nastily, “You really are a bastard.”

  Val gasped and pushed back her chair. Jonas clasped her arm to hold her still.

  “Sit down,” he said to Mary Beth, who had cried out in protest and jumped to her feet.

  “But, Dad…” she began.

  Jonas gently cut her off. “It’s all right, honey.”

  “It’s not all right,” Marge argued, glaring at Lynn.

  “It’s unforgivable,” Jean-Paul muttered.

  “It’s true,” Jonas said flatly.

  “Jonas,” Val murmured, sliding her palm over the back of his hand. Jonas didn’t look at her, but continued to glare at Lynn.

  “I’ll sell the house in the South of France,” Lynn threatened.

  Jonas laughed in her face. “You really should pay closer attention to details, Lynn.”

  “What do you mean?” Lynn was looking scared again.

  “The house in France isn’t yours to sell.” His smile was devoid of humor. “It never was.”

  The tension was palpable. In silence, everyone waited to hear Lynn’s response.

  Lynn glared down the length of the table at Jonas for several long, drawn-out seconds, then caved in. “I’ll make a bargain with you, Jonas,” she said in a strangled-sounding, subdued voice.

  Jonas arched one eyebrow in mockery. “You’re not in a position to bargain,” he reminded her.

  “Will you just listen?” Lynn pleaded.

  Unmoved, Jonas continued to stare at her. The very air in the room seemed to stretch and quiver.

  Mary Beth was the first to break. “Dad, please, listen to what she has to say!” she cried.

  Still Jonas continued to observe his former wife with his hard, unyielding stare.

  “Jonas,” Val whispered, growing concerned at the paleness of his daughter’s face.

  At her murmur Jonas’s eyes flickered, then he relented. “All right, Lynn, I’ll hear you out.” His tone was chilling. “But it’d better be good.”

  Lynn wet her lips, swallowed, then said in a rush, “If you’ll continue with my allowance as before, I’ll return to the South of France.”

  “Forever?”

  “Jonas, I want to be with Mary Beth when the baby’s due!” Lynn protested.

  Jonas sneered. “A little late in the game for maternal instincts, isn’t it?” He waved a hand to silence her when she started to object. “All right, Lynn. I’ll maintain you in the life-style you’ve become accustomed to,” he said.

  Val had not taken her eyes off Jonas throughout the exchange. When the tension eased, she stole a glance at Lynn. This time she did feel a twinge of pity for the older woman. Failure, not only in this one instance, but the failure of an entire life lurked in the depths of Lynn’s eyes. Lynn was vanquished, silenced.

  Val suspected that Lynn would eventually regroup to strike again, but at least until Mary Beth’s child arrived, her viperous tongue had been stilled.

  To Val’s relief, the remainder of the evening passed without further incident. Lynn excused herself and retired after the first of the belated toasts that were raised to the expectant couple. The natural soft pink color returned to Mary Beth’s cheeks. Jean-Paul was amusing in his pride of accomplishment. Marge was obviously eager for her first great-grandchild. Even Jonas managed to laugh, despite the evidence of anger still smoldering in his eyes.

  Val was grateful that the party broke up early. She was exhausted and had a raging headache. The effort she was expending to keep up the pretense of being happy with Jonas was beginning to wear on her nerves.

  At that moment, Val wasn’t at all happy with Jonas. She had been hurt, deeply hurt by the discovery that he was supporting Lynn. But it wasn’t the knowledge that he was making regular payments to Lynn that bothered Val. What Jonas did with his money was his business. No, what had wounded her was the realization that Jonas had not told her that he had been keeping Lynn for years.

  And Val felt certain his failure to tell her had been deliberate, for it was obvious the other members of his family knew, including Jean-Paul.

  What did his secrecy say about their marriage? Val asked herself, sitting stiff and unresponsive beside her husband in the car as they drove home. In her opinion, it certainly didn’t indicate trust or openness or communication. And without those elements, a marriage wasn’t a marriage at all. It was a sham, a farce, a convenience…. His.

  In brooding silence, Val preceded Jonas into the house. Feeling humiliated, sick, used, she mounted the stairs. She didn’t go to their bedroom. Ignoring the purposeful sound of his tread behind her, she went into the guest room and shut the door in his face. She had taken two steps into the room when the door rebounded off the wall.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jonas demanded. Storming after her, he grasped her by the arm and spun her around to face him.

  Though his hold wasn’t painful, Val stared pointedly at his hand. When he released her, she raised her eyes to his. “I’m going to sleep here.”

  “You’re still angry.” It was not a question.

  Val sighed. “No, Jonas, I’m not still angry. I’m angry again. Angry and hurt and—” she raised a hand to massage a throbbing temple “—and tired, so tired.”

  “Of me?” he asked tersely.

  She lifted a hand, then let it fall to her side. “At this moment, yes. Of you, of everything.” Her eyes were bright with tears she refused to let fall, her shoulders drooped. Defeat lay on her like an immense weight.

  “This is about Lynn, isn’t it?”

  Val gave a short, humorless laugh. She knew by the sound of his voice, that arrogant note, that his back was up. If there was one thing Jonas detested, it was having his actions questioned. By anyone.

  “You’re angry because I’ve been supporting her,” he persisted. “Aren’t you?”

  Val longed to curl up in a corner and weep. Instead she straightened her spine and lifted her small chin in defiance. “And shouldn’t I be?”

  Jonas reflected her action with the thrust of his hard jaw. “It’s my money, Val. I earned it. And I’ll do with it as I damn well please.”

  His tone broke the last thread of her composure. “I don’t care about your damned money!” she shouted. “Give it away,” she said wildly. “Throw it away. Burn it. I don’t care!” Fighting to regain control, she spun away. A
startled gasp burst from her throat when he grabbed her arm and swung her around once more to face the building anger in his eyes.

  “Then what the hell is this all about?” he demanded. “What’s biting at you?”

  “Trust, Jonas!” Val said. “A solid marriage is built on trust. Yet you didn’t trust me enough to tell me that you’ve been keeping Lynn all this time.” She drew a quick harsh breath. “It was obvious that everyone else knew—Marge, Mary Beth, Jean-Paul, and God knows how many others.”

  “Val…I—” Jonas began, but she wasn’t finished. Her voice cut across his.

  “You’ve been keeping Lynn for years. And you’ve hidden it from me,” she accused heatedly. “Exactly as you would keep a mistress.”

  “Mistress!” Jonas barked. “Is that what this is really about?” Grasping her by the shoulders, he shook her, not roughly, but as if trying to shake sense into her. “Damn it, Val, I wouldn’t touch Lynn with a dirty stick, and you know it. Or at least you should. I love you, damn it!” he shouted. “And you should know that, too.”

  “You really don’t understand, do you?” Weighed down by defeat, Val’s body sagged, and was literally held erect by his strong hands.

  “Understand what, for God’s sake?”

  “You don’t love, you possess,” she replied dully. “I’m your wife, your possession, your thing.” Her voice grew thin. “Your woman.” Shaking off his hands with her last bit of strength, Val moved away from him. “I’m very tired, Jonas,” she said, turning to look at him. “If you don’t mind…”

  “I do mind.” Though his voice revealed the strain and anger he was feeling, Jonas made no attempt to close the distance separating them. His frustration was evident by the way he raked his hand through his hair. “What do you want that I haven’t given you, Val?”

  “Full partnership,” she answered at once.

  “In the company?” Jonas looked genuinely confused.

  “No, you blockhead!” Val retorted, stung by the very fact that he had thought immediately of his business. “I don’t want half of your company. I want half of your personal life!” She laughed; the sound held a hint of encroaching hysteria. “Hell,” she cried. “I’d be satisfied with the consideration you extend to your female executives!”

  “Val, calm down.” Jonas took a step toward her.

  Val took two steps back and held up her hand. “Go away, Jonas.” Her short, choppy words betrayed her crumbling inner resources. “It’s late. I’m exhausted. I don’t want to argue anymore.”

  “Val…” Jonas took another step.

  Val broke completely. “Jonas, please!”

  He hesitated, his expression stark with concern. “I don’t want to leave you like this. Come with me,” he coaxed, as if placating an overwrought child. “Come to bed with me. Let me hold you.”

  Because she was so very tired, and because, despite everything, she loved him so very much, Val was sorely tempted to chuck it all—all her needs as a woman, all her principles, all her ambitions for a true union with him—to give up and surrender to him. Jonas himself saved her by murmuring four inflammatory words.

  “Let me love you.”

  A sad smile skipped over Val’s mouth. “That’s your answer, your cure-all for everything. Make love, and the problem will go away.”

  “No, but—” Jonas began.

  Val silenced him with a sharp shake of her head. “Not this time, Jonas. I thought I made that clear last night.”

  “We need to talk, Val,” he said adamantly.

  “Yes.” Val nodded. “But first we need to think, long and hard, about what we want as individuals. Because you see, Jonas, whether you approve or not, I am an individual. Not your shadow. Not your echo. But a real, live person. But for now I’m tired,” she said, unconsciously echoing his words of the night before. “I’m going to bed.”

  Chapter 5

  Estrangement. Jonas hated the word and all the pain that it entailed: becoming distant, unfriendly, the denial of feeling. Jonas hated it. Yet the word precisely described his relationship with Val.

  Two weeks, he thought, kneading the tight muscles at the back of his neck. Almost two full weeks had elapsed since the night of Marge’s celebration dinner.

  Some celebration. The noise Jonas made sounded like a snort.

  Pushing his chair away from his large, cluttered desk, he strode to the wide window of his office. It was late. It was dark. Artificial light illuminated the company parking lot, empty except for the small cluster of vehicles belonging to the office cleaning service and the night security personnel, and for his own car, parked directly beneath his office window, looking oddly abandoned.

  Did Val’s car look abandoned, sitting alone in the four-car garage attached to the house? Jonas wondered, sightlessly staring at the gleaming Lincoln six floors below.

  No. Of course it didn’t. Val’s car wasn’t even in the garage, Jonas thought derisively, turning back to his desk. Val wasn’t at home, nor would she be, he recalled. It was Friday, the night before the wedding. Val had informed him that she’d be spending the entire night with Janet, doing whatever it was women did the night before a wedding.

  Jonas smiled wryly as he settled into his chair. Considering her present attitude toward the institution, Val was probably trying to talk Janet into changing her mind about getting married, before it was too late.

  Suddenly needing to hear Val’s voice, even if it was the distant one she had used through every conversation of the previous two weeks, Jonas reached for the no-nonsense black console phone set close at hand at the right side of his desk. His fingers grasped the receiver, but he didn’t pick it up. Exhaling impatiently, he drew back his hand.

  He had work to do, and he wouldn’t get it done chatting on the phone. The admonition to himself might have been funny under normal circumstances. Tonight it merely served to drive home the truth of the situation: he and his wife were barely speaking. The idea of the two of them chatting was ludicrous.

  But then, had he and Val ever relaxed enough with each other to engage in a simple chat?

  The thought made Jonas uncomfortable. Although he didn’t like admitting it, he knew they had seldom shared a meaningful conversation, let alone a friendly chat. Feeling suddenly prickly all over, Jonas shifted in his chair, and was grateful for the distraction presented by the abrupt intrusion of his assistant, who entered the room without his usual polite knock.

  “What are you doing here?” Jonas demanded. “Aren’t you supposed to be out somewhere, getting drunk or something on your last night of freedom?”

  Charlie McAndrew grinned at his employer. “The bachelor party was last week, remember?”

  Jonas groaned. “How can I forget?” He motioned the younger man into a chair with a flick of his hand. “You have some wild friends, Charlie,” he observed, remembering with distaste the drunken revelry the other men had indulged in the previous week. Jonas had never met any one of the five men before, all of whom had been college buddies of Charlie’s. Jonas wasn’t thrilled about spending the entire day with them tomorrow, either. “I can only hope they’ll all be sober enough to seat the guests and stand up through the wedding ceremony.”

  Charlie dropped into the chair with a tired-sounding sigh and an even more tired-sounding excuse. “They don’t get out alone all that often.”

  Jonas arched a skeptical brow. “Are they caged?”

  “Close,” Charlie replied with a laugh. “They are all very much married.”

  “Which you will be in less than twenty-four hours,” Jonas reminded him. “Is that how you view the state of matrimony?” he asked with interest. “As being caged?”

  “No, of course not!” Charlie exclaimed.

  “There’s no of course about it,” Jonas said. “You’ll be as very much married as they are,” he pointed out reasonably. “Where’s the difference?”

  Instead of answering, Charlie responded with a question. “You’re married. Do you feel caged?”

&nb
sp; Though Jonas stiffened, he considered the question before giving a reply. Did he feel caged by marriage? Without looking, Jonas could see the plain gold band encircling the third finger of his left hand. Had he ever felt constricted by the binding band of metal? He slowly shook his head from side to side. Frustrated, yes, but… “No,” Jonas answered both Charlie and himself.

  “And there’s the difference.” Charlie shrugged.

  Jonas frowned. “You lost me.”

  “It’s the woman,” Charlie explained. “Brad’s married to a grind, and he hears nothing but nag, nag, nag. Ted’s wife is a spender. She wants everything yesterday. George’s wife is house-proud, makes him go outside to smoke his pipe. Jeff’s wife is cold, and starves him for sexual warmth. And Randy’s wife is a clinging vine, which bolstered his ego at the beginning, but is strangling him now.”

  Jonas frowned in disapproval. “They discuss their marital problems with you and each other?”

  “We’ve all been friends for a long time, Jonas. I don’t know—” he shrugged “—I guess it helps to talk about it. Maybe it’s either that or explode.”

  “Maybe.” Jonas didn’t sound convinced. “But don’t you think they’d be better advised to talk about it with their wives, rather than each other?”

  “Sure,” Charlie agreed. “But I gather that they have tried that and failed. In any case, do you understand what I mean about the difference being in the woman?” he asked. “You and I are the lucky ones. We both found exceptional women.”

  Jonas thought about the conversation long after he had thrown Charlie out of the office with a growled order to go home and get some rest.

  In what way were Val and Janet exceptional? he mused, once again wandering to the wide window. With respect to Janet, the answer was simple. She was exceptionally bright, exceptionally talented, exceptionally well-balanced and even-tempered. Jonas felt certain Janet would make a terrific wife for the ambitious, yet basically shy Charlie…or any other man.

  But Val? In what way was his wife exceptional? Jonas frowned, and recalled the complaints of Charlie’s friends. Val was certainly not a shrew. She never nagged him about anything. She wasn’t a spender, either, even though he had given her several credit cards and had set up a large household account for her at his bank. She didn’t cling like a smothering vine and, thank heaven, Val was definitely not cold in bed.