Whispers

by Belva Plain

  Once, a month ago, she had been surprised by the appearance of Tom Lawrence. He had been in St. Louis to take a deposition and had telephoned the shop.

  “I took a chance on ‘Delicious Dinners’ and looked it up in the phone book,” he said. “Will you have dinner with me?”

  And she had gone, feeling both gratitude and pride in being able to show him how well she had carried out his advice. Gratitude and pride, but nothing more.

  She had been completely honest with him.

  “I would have married you if you had asked me that day. I was prepared to,” she said. “Now I thank you for telling me it would have been a mistake.”

  He answered seriously, “As I told you then, it would have been different if I had met you when I was twenty years younger and maybe wiser.”

  She laughed. “You would have spared me a ton of trouble if you had.”

  “Why? Would you have taken me then instead of Robert?”

  Considering that with equal seriousness, she shook her head.

  “No. At that time the Prince of Wales probably couldn’t have gotten me away from him.”

  “Lynn, it’s so good to see you! And you’re looking so lovely, younger; all the tension seems to have been wiped away.”

  She said playfully, “You don’t think running a business is tension?”

  “Yes, but it’s a very different kind.” He smiled at her with the old brightness, not mischievous now, but affectionate. “I like your suit. I like your pearls. I thought you had given back all the jewelry.”

  “I did. I bought these myself.”

  “They’re handsome. Pure white, European taste. Americans prefer creamy ones. You see how much I know?”

  She had been passing a jeweler’s on the day that her bank loan, obtained through Darwin’s willingness to co-sign the note, had been paid off. She was then in the black. And she had stood for a minute staring at the marvelous blue-white pearls, struggling with herself. She didn’t need them. But she loved them. She wanted them. So she went in and walked out with the pearls in hand, her pearls, for which there was no reason to thank anyone but herself.

  “What do you hear from Bruce?” Tom had inquired.

  It had seemed that everyone in town who had ever known Bruce was always asking that, and now she replied as always, “Not very much. He seems to be frightfully busy.”

  “He is. I happened to mention him the last time I saw Monacco and he told me. Actually he said Bruce is a ‘brilliant guy. Quiet, with no brag about him.’ ”

  “I’m glad for him. At that rate I don’t suppose we’ll ever see him again.”

  Tom had looked at her keenly. “What makes you say that?”

  “The paths life takes. You meet, you stay for a while, and you part.”

  “He was very fond of you.”

  “And I of him.”

  “I understand you went back a long time together.”

  “That’s true.”

  A long time. Back and back into the dimmest corners of the mind and memory. Young days in the sun, easy and familiar as brother and sister. Snatches of memory popping like switchboard lights. The morning Robert bought the bracelet and Bruce said, “Take it, you deserve it.” She had not known then what he meant. The day he phoned from the hospital where he had taken Emily. The day he fetched Annie after she had run away. The day they had made love in Josie’s house; wrong as it had been, it had been comforting, it had been voluptuous, it had been happy. It had been right. And then had come the night when, awakening from unconsciousness, she felt him washing her damaged face.

  Memory, going back and back.

  But she had not wanted to speak of these things to Tom, had herself been troubled because she was not sure what they really meant, and because, after all, they were useless.

  The car came to a stop on a pleasant street bordered with prosperous shops and trees that would in a few months give summer shade. Between a florist’s and a bookstore hung a bright blue sign on which in fine old-fashioned script was written DELICIOUS DINNERS. Beneath the sign, in a bow window, stood a table, beautifully set with a spring-yellow cloth, black-and-white china, and a low bowl of the first daffodils. Customers were going in and customers were coming out at the bright blue door.

  Two young girls in starched white were busy at the counter when Lynn went in. At the rear, behind swinging doors, the work was being done; a woman was cleaning vegetables, and Eudora was arranging a fish platter for a ladies’ luncheon.

  “Well, I finished the cake,” Lynn said. She looked at her watch. “Plenty of time for me to do the salad bowl and the cornbread sticks. I told her that a French bread would be better, but she wanted the sticks. Is that my apron on the knob?”

  An hour later she was taking the corn sticks out of the oven when one of the salesgirls opened the swinging door.

  “There’s a man here who insists on seeing you. I told him you were busy, but he—”

  “Hello,” Bruce said.

  “Oh, my God!” Lynn cried, and dropped the pan on the table.

  “Yes, it’s who you think it is.” And he opened his arms.

  She was laughing, she was crying, as he hugged her and the astonished onlookers gaped.

  “I thought you were in Russia! What are you doing here?”

  “I was supposed to go to Russia, had my things ready, had my tickets, but then I changed my mind, changed the airline, and arrived at Kennedy this morning instead. Then I made this connection. I didn’t have time to shave. Sorry.”

  “Who cares? I can’t believe it. No warning, nothing.” She babbled. “Emily’s here on spring break. Guess what! She got into Harvard Med. She’ll be so glad to see you. She’ll be bowled over. And Annie keeps wondering whether you’ll ever come to see how well she’s taking care of Barney. Oh,” she repeated, “I can’t believe it.” And pulling away from the hug, she cried, “And look who’s here! Eudora!”

  “Eudora? What are you doing here in the Midwest?”

  “She’s my partner,” Lynn answered before Eudora could get the words out. “She has an interest in this place.”

  Bruce looked around. “You never told me when you wrote that it was anything like this. I had no idea.”

  He saw the shelves, the enormous, gleaming stove and freezer, the trays of cookies, the people at the counter waiting to be served.

  “Why, it’s stupendous, Lynn. I expected you would be doing, oh, I don’t know. I expected—”

  “That I’d be making dinners single-handedly? Well, I started that way. There were only Eudora and I the first few months, but business grew. It just grew.”

  In his excitement Bruce had pushed his glasses back into his hair, and she had to laugh.

  “You never keep them on your eyes.”

  “What? These? Oh, I don’t know why I do it. Tell me, can we have lunch? Can I drag you away from here?”

  Lynn appealed to Eudora. “Can you manage without me? I don’t want to run out on you, but—”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I only need to toss the salad and make some pea soup. You go.” Eudora was enjoying the surprise. “Better take off your apron before you do, though.”

  “I’ll use my car,” Bruce said. “I rented one at the airport. I’ve already taken my stuff to the hotel. I got a suite. I had too much stuff to fit into one room. Let’s go back there for lunch, I’m starved. I only had coffee this morning.”

  “You brought all your things out to St. Louis? I don’t understand.”

  “It’s a long story. Well, not so long. I’ll tell you when we sit down.”

  He was all charged up; it was entirely unlike him to talk so fast.

  “Well,” he began when they were seated in the dining room, quiet and hushed by carpets and curtains. “Well, here I am. It feels like a century since I was last in this place. Remember our farewell party here before we all left for New York? You look different,” he said quizzically. “I don’t know exactly what it is, but I like it. You look taller.”

&nb
sp; She was suddenly self-conscious. “How can I possibly look taller?”

  “It’s something subtle, perhaps the way you stand, the way you walked in here just now. Something spirited and confident. Not that I didn’t like the way you looked and walked before. You know that, Lynn.”

  She did not answer. Tom, too, had given many a compliment, and she no longer took much stock in compliments.

  “You look peaceful,” Bruce said, studying her face. “Yes, I see that too.”

  “Well, I’ve made peace with a lot of things. I think you’ll be glad about one of them. A while back I went with some of the women to a tea at that house where Caroline fell into the pond. I made myself go to look at the pond, and for the first time I was able to remember what happened without blaming myself. I accepted, and felt free.” She finished quietly, “That was your doing, Bruce, that afternoon in your house.” She smiled. “Now tell me about yourself, what’s been happening.”

  He began. “I took the position, as you know, because I wanted to get away. And I threw myself into the work. It was a godsend. We worked like beavers, all of us did, and I do think we’ve made great strides. The company was pleased. I even got a letter from Monacco, offering me the post in Moscow. Well, I almost took it. But then I decided to go home.”

  “What made you do that? You were on the way to bigger things, like wearing Monacco’s shoes one day,” she said, thinking of how Robert had coveted those shoes.

  “That’s the last thing I’d want, heading an international corporation, with all its politics. It’s good that some people want it, just the way some people want to be President of the United States, but I don’t want either. I told them I’d like to go back to my old place here in St. Louis, only this time I’d be the boss. That much authority, I’d like.”

  “Why not New York, at least?”

  “I never liked New York. Again, it’s a fine place for some people, for the millions who live there and love it and for the millions more who would like to be there. But millions more, including me, wouldn’t,” he ended firmly.

  Curiosity drove Lynn further. “So why did you go there in the first place? You didn’t have to.”

  This time he replied less firmly, almost sheepishly, “I guess I wanted to show I was as good as Robert. It was pride, but I think I wanted to prove that I could do whatever he could, and do it just as well. I knew he never liked me and had a low opinion of me.”

  Astonished, she pursued him. “But why should you have cared about Robert’s opinion?”

  “I told you. Pride. Human beings are foolish creatures. So now that I’ve proved what I can do, I don’t care anymore.”

  This strange confession touched her heart in an unexpected way. She felt hurt on his behalf, hurt for him.

  He looked down at his plate and then, raising his eyes, said somewhat shyly, “I had a letter from Tom Lawrence after he came here to see you a couple of months ago.”

  “Yes, he was here.”

  And still shyly, Bruce said, not asking a question but making a statement, “Then you and Tom have something serious going.”

  “I don’t know what makes you think that. He didn’t come to see me. He had business in the city and looked me up, that’s all. He’s a fine man, and he has his charm.” She smiled. “But he’s not for me, and I’m not for him either.”

  “Really?” The brown eyes widened and glowed. “I thought he had come on purpose to see you. Not that he said anything definite, but anyway, I’d been expecting something of the sort.” Bruce stumbled. “I always thought you and he—”

  She said stoutly, “For a while I had some fleeting thoughts, too, but it was very halfhearted, a sort of desperation, I guess, still thinking that a woman can’t survive without a man. I’ve got over that. God knows it took me long enough.”

  “You can’t mean that you’re writing men off because of what you’ve been through?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  They were sparring. If they had been fencing, they would have just tipped their weapons and retreated, tipped again and retreated. She became aware that her heartbeat was very fast.

  “I’m glad it’s not Tom,” Bruce said suddenly.

  “Are you?”

  “Is it—is there anybody else?”

  “No. There could be, there could’ve been more than one, but I didn’t, I don’t, want any of them.”

  She looked away at the tables where people were talking in low voices about the Lord knew what, the movie they had seen last night or maybe what they were going to do with their whole lives. And as she sat with her forlorn hands resting on the table, she wished that Bruce had not returned to live here where she would be bound to encounter him, bound to treat him like a cousin or a good old friend. Until this moment, in spite of her intermittent longings, she had not realized how deep those longings were; they had always been stifled. Here she sat and there, only inches away, were his warm lips and warm arms. They would have their lunch and smile and part until the next time, and that would be all.

  She wanted to get up and run out. But people don’t do things like that. They conceal and suffer politely.

  “A few weeks ago I went over that batch of pictures you gave me,” he said. “I spread them out so I could travel through the years. I had—I guess I had—an epiphany.”

  Startled by the word, Lynn raised her eyes, which met a long, grave gaze.

  “I saw everything, saw you and saw myself quite clearly. I shocked myself with my sudden knowledge of what I had to do.” Leaning over the table, he placed his hand on hers. “You’ve always been very dear to me, I don’t know whether you felt it or not. But don’t misunderstand; I don’t need to tell you how I loved Josie. So how could I admit that there was still room for you? How could I?”

  Her eyes filled with tears and she did not answer.

  “Tell me, am I too late? Or perhaps too early? Tell me.”

  Very low, she replied, “Neither. Neither too early nor too late.”

  A smile spread from his mouth to his eyes; they radiated an amber light. The smile was contagious; Lynn began to laugh while her tears dropped.

  “How I love you, Lynn! I must have loved you for years without knowing it.”

  “And I—I remember the day you left. I turned the corner and you were waving—”

  “Don’t. Don’t cry. It’s all right now.” He shoved the coffee cup aside. “Let’s go upstairs. It’s time.”

  And to think that only this morning on the way to work she had been thinking of him, with such desire and so wistful a sense of “never again”!

  “Love in the afternoon,” she whispered. This time there was no sorrow, no search for comfort, no guilt, only the most honest, trusting, naked joy. Tightly together, they lay back on the pillows.

  “I’m so contented.” Bruce sighed. “Let’s not go back to your house this minute. We need to talk.”

  “All right. What shall we talk about?”

  “I’m just letting my mind wander. Maybe someday when we’re tired of doing what we’re doing we could open a country inn. What do you think?”

  “Darling, all the options are open.”

  “We could furnish it with antiques. I got some old things in Europe, Biedermeier, it’s being shipped. You’d be surprised how well it looks with other things, I never liked it before, but—”

  Suddenly he laughed his loud, infectious laugh.

  “What’s funny?”

  “I was thinking of the times I must have been gypped. Those old pieces that I so lovingly restored … A fellow told me of a place in Germany where they manufacture them and send them over here, all battered and marred with five coats of peeling paint. I used to spend hours removing it to get down to the original. Remember how Annie used to help me? Oh, Lord!” He shook with laughter. “Lynn, I’m so happy. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

  “I’ll tell you what. Let’s get dressed after all and go back to the house. I want you to see everybody, and I want them to s
ee you.”

  “Okay.” He kept talking. “You know, I think another reason why I took that post in Budapest was that I had always envied Robert for having you without deserving you. I was pleased to see him punished when he saw me take his place. Very small minded, I know.”

  “Very human too.”

  And she pondered, while combing her hair before the mirror, “I wonder, do you believe Robert became what he did because of his father?” The name “Robert” sounded strange when spoken in her own voice. She had no occasion anymore to use it. “Of course he could easily have done just the opposite to prove himself different, couldn’t he?”

  “He could have, but he didn’t, and that’s all that matters.”

  Bruce came behind her, and the two faces looked back out of the mirror.

  “Bruce and Lynn. It’s funny how there’s really never any one person for any of us. In my case, if it hadn’t been Josie, it could have been you.”

  She thought, Tom Lawrence said something like that, not quite the same, but almost.

  “But Josie and I are so different,” she replied.

  “That’s what I mean. Tell me, if it hadn’t been Robert, could it have been me?”

  She answered truthfully, “I don’t know what I would have done then. Someone else once asked me that question, and I answered that not even the Prince of Wales could have gotten me away from him. I was bewitched—then. I wasn’t the person I am now.”

  “But if you had been the person you are now? Or is that an impossible, a foolish, question?”

  “Foolish, yes. Because, can’t you see, don’t you know, that if I had had my present head on my shoulders—” She turned about and took his face between her hands. “Oh, my dear, oh, my very dear, you know it would have been yes. A thousand times yes.”

  In the living room Annie was practicing scales. Downstairs in the makeshift playroom that would have to be made over, Bobby and two four-year-old friends were playing some raucous game.

  “I hope,” Lynn said, “you think you can get used to a very noisy household.”

  “I lived in a very quiet one for a long, long time. I will get used to it with gratitude.”