by Belva Plain
Lawrence was dressed for golf, wearing a light straw hat, which he now tipped to her, replaced, and removed again, this confusion giving her the impression that he was as discomfited as she was.
“In this heat you’ve got to be crazy to go out on the fairway,” he complained. “I need to cool off in the shade. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
He sat down, and she returned to her book with a finality intended to discourage any further conversation. For a few moments he waited, saying nothing, and then spoke.
“Actually, I was on my way out, when I caught a glimpse of you. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to apologize.”
She raised her eyes from the book and looked at him. The happy thought came to her that this time, unlike the last, she could face him confidently; she was wearing the scarlet swimsuit that had been so successful on the Caribbean beach; her body was unblemished and her face unmarked by having wept.
“What for?” she asked.
“I was to blame for making you late that night and making your husband furious.”
“He wasn’t furious,” she said, resenting the man’s intrusion.
“Oh, come.” The tone was gentle. “He was furious. Everyone saw it.”
“I can’t help what everyone saw,” she said coldly. “And it was none of their business, anyway.” To her shame angry tears began to form, as they always did whenever her emotions, grieving or joyous, were stirred. Damn tears. She. blinked them back, but not before he had seen.
He shook his head. “It’s a pity for you to be unhappy.”
She turned upon him then. “How can you talk to me this way? What do you know about me? I’m not unhappy. Not.”
“You were miserable when I saw you the next morning. And I do know something about you. I know that your husband lays a heavy hand on you, and I don’t mean just psychologically either.”
She was appalled. She was totally shocked. She had a positively Victorian impulse to say something like “How dare you?” and then flounce off in seething indignation. But of course, that would be ridiculous. There were people sitting all around the pool who would notice. All this rushed through her head, and she said only, “I have never heard anyone talk so outrageously in all my life. You’re making a fool of yourself too. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“But I do know. I used to do divorce work, and I’ve seen the signs too often to be mistaken.”
Her heart was pounding. She pulled herself up into a haughty posture and said, making each word sharply distinct, “My husband happens to be a useful, respected citizen with a good name. He’s a senior officer with one of the world’s largest corporations, General American Appliance. Perhaps,” she added sarcastically, “you have possibly heard of it?”
“Yes, I’ve been a stockholder for years. As a matter of fact, the president, Pete Monacco, is a friend of mine. He married my cousin. A sort of third cousin, I believe.”
“Well, good for you. With connections like that you should know better than to cast aspersions on a man who does what Robert does, in this community alone. The hospital, AIDS, the new town library—” She was almost sputtering. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”
Lawrence was undaunted. “The one has nothing to do with the other. A man can be a distinguished citizen and still be violent toward his wife.”
His voice and face were kind. He sat there, easily, cradling the straw hat on his knee. He might have been talking about something as trivial as the heat. But his words were blunt and hard as a hammer.
“You don’t know how good Robert is, how totally devoted to his family. You don’t understand.”
For answer Tom simply shook his head. And this stubborn refusal to retract his words made her anger boil afresh.
“What’s the matter with me? What kind of a fool am I? Why am I even talking like this to a stranger? Allowing you to say such things to me. It’s degrading to us both. And I’ll tell you something: If you’re still around, we’ll invite you to our fiftieth anniversary and dare you to come. Dare you.”
He stood up. “I admire you for your defense, Lynn. I know your kind of woman. You have a vision of romance. Till death do us part,’ no matter what. It’s the ‘no matter what’ that’s wrong. Otherwise I’m all in favor of fiftieth anniversaries, I assure you.”
She got up and walked toward the pool. Only a dive into the water would silence this man.
“Romantic visions of everlasting love. That’s what you’re living by.”
“Yes,” she said over her shoulder, “yes, I believe in that. I live by it.”
“Take care you don’t die by it, Lynn.”
Those were the last words she heard before the water splashed over her.
“You seem disturbed about something,” Robert said, when, not long afterward, he joined her.
“This sickening heat is enough to disturb anybody.”
Later he remarked, “I thought I saw Tom Lawrence leaving the club when I drove in.”
“Yes, he was here.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“A few words. Not much more than hello and good-bye.”
Still later, at dinner, he said, “The company president is flying in on Monday to give a talk. He’s some impressive guy. Powerful. It’s easy to see how he got where he is. Funny how things change, though,” he mused. “A generation ago nobody with an Italian name would have headed a company like ours.”
“What’s wrong with an Italian name?”
“It just didn’t use to happen, that’s all. Now it happens every day.”
What made her say what she next said, Lynn could not have explained. “Tom Lawrence is related to him.”
“How do you know that?”
“He told me so today.”
“You must have had quite a talk with him, then,” Robert said after a moment.
“Not at all. I told you that we said a few words. And he happened to mention Mr. Monacco.”
Robert looked amused. “I don’t mind that you talked to him, Lynn, since that’s what you’re thinking of. So he told you he’s related to Monacco? That’s odd. I had the impression that Lawrence was old American stock.”
“It’s his second cousin who’s married to Monacco.”
“Oh.” Robert looked reflective. “I wish I had a connection like that, distant or not. Business is contacts, it’s channels. I’ve got a head full of ideas, but how to get to the right ears with them? One department overlaps another—” With a small, self-deprecating frown he paused. “Too bad. I would have done differently if I had known about Lawrence. But I’ll make up for it. We’re certain to run into him again at the club.”
Lynn was aghast. “You surely aren’t going to ask for an introduction to Mr. Monacco, are you?”
“No, no, no. That’s not the way things are done. You get acquainted with somebody, invite him to dinner, get talking, and after a while—after a while, who knows what can happen?”
What can happen, she repeated to herself, is too awful to think about.
Still she could not help but think about it. The unmitigated gall of that man! Who was he to play detective-psychologist, and to pry into the innermost heart of a stranger’s life? She could only dread the next time she would have to see Tom Lawrence.
Indeed, she was so agitated for a week or more that she kept waking up in the middle of the night to relive the scene at the pool’s edge. She felt actually ill. Her stomach churned. And suddenly, one morning as the kitchen warmed with the pungent smells of coffee and bacon, she had to run from the room.
“I can’t stand the smell of food,” she complained when she came back. “Even the sight of it makes me sick.”
“That certainly doesn’t sound like you.” Robert looked at her thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose you could possibly be—”
She stared at him. “Oh, no. What are you saying?”
“We had some pretty good times down on the island.”
She was barely able to a
bsorb the possibility. Why, Emily was already seventeen!
“Would it be awful if I were? Would you mind awfully?”
“Do I look as if I would mind?” He chuckled.
“Maybe I am a little late,” she admitted. “But since I often am, it hasn’t occurred to me that it could be anything.”
“Don’t look so terrified. We always wanted three, and would have had them if we hadn’t lost Caroline.” Robert kissed her cheek. “It may be nothing, but see a doctor tomorrow, anyway. Or this afternoon, if you can.”
She went to the doctor, received an affirmative answer, and came home in a state of shock despite what Robert had said. Her head was full of troublesome possibilities. How would Annie take the news? And she’d heard that at Emily’s stage of life, a mother’s pregnancy could be a painful embarrassment.
But Robert held her close. “Darling, darling. I’m delighted.” Back and forth, he strutted, across the bedroom. He laughed. “Maybe it will be a boy. Not that it wouldn’t be wonderful either way, but it would be fun to have a boy for a change. This is absolutely the best news, Lynn. You’ll have to postpone your business venture for a while, but I guess there couldn’t be a better reason. And don’t you worry about the girls. Annie will have a live toy, and Emily’s a real woman. She’ll be a help, you’ll see. Let’s go downstairs and tell them.”
“Oh, let it wait, Robert, this is much too soon.”
“Why wait? Come on,” he insisted.
His delight overflowed and was contagious.
“Well, Annie, you’ve been wanting us to let Juliet have puppies, so will this do instead?” He swung the heavy child off the floor and hugged her. “Room for one more, hey, girls? Always room for one more and plenty of love left over.”
“Wait till I tell people in school,” said Annie. “I’ll bet I’m the only one of my friends who’ll be having a new baby.”
“Not yet, dear,” Lynn warned. “It’s not till the end of February. I’ll let you know when you can talk about it. And, Emily, are you sure you don’t feel ‘funny’?”
She was moved when, unknowingly, Emily repeated Robert’s words about Caroline, the little sister whom she could barely remember. “There would have been three of us if Caroline hadn’t died.”
The little white coffin, the overwhelming scent of white roses, enough to make you faint, hushed words meant to comfort, and arms supporting her.
Now again it was as if all of them, husband and children, were rallying to support her. She felt a sudden strong sense of unity among them, and a surge of excitement, a physical vibration, went through her body. On all their faces she seemed to see a look of curiosity, of respect and tenderness. And it came to her that, in this roundabout way, she might possibly be making up to Robert, in part, for the child who through her fault had been lost.
“Let’s drive over to tell Josie and Bruce,” she said suddenly.
“No, no. This is private talk between women. You run to see Josie, since I see you’re bursting to tell. Just don’t stay too long.”
Bruce was in the backyard putting the finishing touches on the chest of drawers.
“That’s beautiful,” Lynn said.
“I was right. It’s curly maple.” He shoved his glasses up into his hair and looked at her quizzically. “Josie didn’t expect you, did she? She’s got a late meeting at the office.”
“No. I was passing nearby and remembered something. Not important. That’s a beautiful piece,” she repeated. “What are you going to do with it?”
“Darned if I know. Maybe keep it and give it to Emily someday when she gets married. She likes old things. Feel the wood.” He guided her hand over the top of the chest. “I’ve been working two months on this. Feels like satin, doesn’t it?”
She smiled. “Like satin.”
He was so steady, so relaxed, working there near the shed in the cool of the late afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to live with a man who moved and spoke without haste. He never seemed to be going anywhere, but rather to be already there, and content to be there. She imagined that he must be a considerate lover.
“You look preoccupied,” he said while his hand moved up and down with the waxing cloth.
“I am, somewhat.”
“Nothing bad, I hope.”
“Not at all.” A smile, quite involuntary, spread across her face and quickly receded as she told herself: It is utterly selfish of me to bring this news with such pleasure when they have—at least I know Bruce has—always wanted children so badly.
He had seen the quick flash of her smile. “What is it? Tell me.”
“I’m going to have—I’m pregnant.”
His wide mouth opened and shut. He laid the cloth down. And because his face went blank, with no readable expression, she was puzzled and vaguely hurt.
“Aren’t you going to say anything? Is it so startling that you can’t?”
“Well, it is a bit of a surprise.”
Naturally, he would be remembering the day when she had come here with tear-swollen eyes and a pathetic story of trouble at home. But that was past. This baby was testimony to the start of a new understanding, a whole new era. And she said lightly, almost frivolously, “Why? I’m not that old.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh, that! That’s old business. It’s over, Bruce, completely healed.”
“Josie and I only want you to be happy, Lynn.”
“I am happy.”
“Then let me congratulate you.” He gave her a quick hug. “I’ll tell Josie the minute she comes in.”
When she got back into the car, he was still watching her with that first blank look on his face. And as the car moved away, she heard him call after her, “God bless you, Lynn.”
Now came a time of bloom. Nausea went as abruptly as it came. She felt strong and able, animated by good health. Because it had been so unexpected and because she was older, this new life seemed more marvelous than any of the others had. When, after amniocentesis, the doctor asked her whether she wanted to know the sex of the baby, she declined. She wanted to have all the delights, the suspense, and the surprise.
Once Robert told her she looked “exalted.” He had come upon her in a quiet moment listening to music, and she had laughed, making light of her own profound feeling.
“It’s only hormones,” she had answered.
In the garden, working through a drowsy noon, and in the beautiful new kitchen, she often sang. From time to time she had a recall of that almost mystical experience when, on the top of the cliff, she had stood looking out upon the silence of sea and sky.
For Josie and Bruce’s anniversary Robert proposed taking them to the dinner dance at the country club. This suggestion surprised Lynn because it was always she who arranged their social times with the Lehmans, and she remarked upon it.
“Well,” he replied, “they were so nice to the girls while we were away, so it’s only right to do something for them in return. I don’t like being indebted. Wear that white dress again,” he said. “Maybe it was the dress that got me started on Robert junior one of those nights.”
“You really do want it to be Robert junior, don’t you?”
“Or Roberta, or Susie, or Mary, will be just as wonderful. Wear the bracelet, too, will you?”
“Of course.” For the first time she clasped it on without any ugly memory. After all, it was stupid, it was almost superstitious, to let such memories persist. Chicago was long past. Her heart—or whatever it is that makes a person different from every other person on earth—was glad. And Robert owned it.
But she never entered the club without feeling a small dread of encountering Tom Lawrence. The very thought made her face burn. And for some inexplicable reason she had a premonition that tonight was to be the night.
So it was. They had just sat down when she saw him in the dining-room doorway. Unaccompanied, he hesitated as if he were looking for somebody. She could only hope that Robert would not catch sight of him, b
ut of course, Robert was too alert to miss anything.
“I was standing there hoping I’d see somebody I know,” Tom said when Robert hailed him. “My date had to leave town in a hurry, a family illness, and at the last minute I thought I’d come alone anyway. How are you all?”
His light, skeptical eyes roved around the table, skimmed past Lynn, who was doing her best to look indifferent, and came to rest on Bruce, who replied. “I can answer for Josie and myself. It’s our anniversary and we are feeling absolutely great, thank you.”
“Congratulations. How long?”
“Twenty years.”
“That’s marvelous. Nice to hear that in these days.”
I wonder, Lynn thought, whether he is remembering my invitation to our fiftieth?
“Do you care to join us?” Robert asked. “Since you and Bruce are old friends, or I should say old jogging companions, at least.”
“Yes, pull up a chair,” Bruce said.
The evening was ruined at the outset. Unless she could contrive to keep her eyes down on her plate, she would be looking straight at Tom, who now sat across from her. And she was furious with him for foisting himself upon them; surely he knew what he must be doing to her.
When the three men took over the conversation, the two women subsided into listening. First came the usual generalities about the state of the economy; then almost imperceptibly, talk veered to the personal as Robert skillfully led it where he wanted it to go.
“I understand you’re related to our boss, Bruce’s and mine.”
“Yes, we’re good friends,” acknowledged Lawrence. “I don’t see him that often unless I happen to be in San Francisco or I’m invited to their Maine camp in the fall, which I generally am. They like to go for the foliage season. There isn’t much of a foliage season in California, as we all know,” he finished agreeably.
“I have to admire a man like Monacco,” Robert said, “working his way up from the bottom to where he is today. These modern heroes amaze me, these men who create jobs, make the country strong, and let people live better. Heroes,” he repeated.
