Heart of the Night: A Novel

by Barbara Delinsky

  “Can I drop you home?” Jared asked.

  That brought Susan to a standstill on the front step. She gave him a challenging look. “I live in Newport. You’d never make it there and back in time for your show. Besides, my car is here. But thanks. It was a nice gesture.”

  Savannah slipped in front of Jared. “What will you do at home?”

  “What do most people do late at night?”

  “Stay here. You could go home in the morning.”

  But Susan wanted out. “Talk with you later,” she said as she went down the steps.

  “What time’s our plane?” Savannah called. She was half worried that Susan was upset enough to back out of the trip.

  To her relief, Susan called back, “Six-thirty.” Then she slid into the Jaguar, started the engine, and flew down the street.

  CHAPTER 17

  Susan had chartered a small plane to fly them to Marco Island. It was wonderfully convenient, though there were moments when Savannah wished they’d been on a crowded commercial flight. With only three of them in the cabin, well behind the pilot and copilot, the silence was awkward. It didn’t bode well for a relaxing weekend.

  Susan was angry. She felt betrayed, hurt, jealous—so much so that she couldn’t begin to analyze all that churned inside her. She had considered canceling the weekend, but spending Saturday and Sunday with Savannah and Megan, as depressing as it promised to be, was less odious than spending a lonely weekend partying in Newport. Still, she barely looked at Savannah, and when she did, her eyes were sharp. She talked some with Megan, and gave brief answers to anything Savannah asked, but for the most part, she kept to herself. More out of defiance than thirst, she held a drink in her hand the entire time.

  Megan was nearly as quiet as Susan. Sitting by the window, she spent most of the trip staring out at the clouds, wishing she were back in the cocoon of her house in Providence. She didn’t want to see people, or have people see her. She was convinced that the entire world knew about the kidnapping and would be staring. Yet she had agreed to come of her own accord. For one thing, Will needed a break. He’d been frantic with worry; she wanted to show him that she was on the mend. For another, she had fond memories of times in Florida with Savannah and Susan; she’d been helplessly lured by that spirit. And finally, she knew that she couldn’t hide forever. She had something important to do when she got back. She had to be strong.

  It was hard, though. She could talk with Susan or Savannah, but only briefly and on the most mundane of topics. Inevitably a phrase or word or expression would trigger something inside her, and she’d remember what she’d done and then she would be swamped with guilt. She prayed things would improve as the weekend passed.

  Savannah, too, kept her hopes high. The house on Marco Island was large and open. The pool was lovely, the private beach warm, clean, and quiet. And then there was the Florida sun. Savannah was convinced that given several hours of that, their moods would mellow and their tongues would loosen. They badly needed to talk as they used to, heart to heart, all three of them.

  Of course, when they arrived at the villa it was nearly ten at night, which ruled out the therapeutic effects of pool, beach, or sun. They were enthusiastically greeted by the Stockleys, the English couple who tended the house. Husband and wife kept up a running conversation through a light snack, after which both Megan and Susan pleaded exhaustion. Savannah sat for a while on the back veranda overlooking the ocean, wishing she were back with Jared, then feeling guilty for wishing it. She could hardly believe that he loved her, and she didn’t quite know what to do about it. When she thought of him, she felt alternately exhilarated and terrified. Neither emotion was appropriate for the weekend. She had her work cut out for her.

  Megan was the first to awaken the next morning, but she lay in bed for an hour, half hoping that the others would be basking in the sun by the time she went down. They weren’t. Savannah was on the patio, reading the morning paper, savoring the fresh strawberries and cream that Mrs. Stockley had set out. She looked up and smiled broadly when Megan joined her.

  “Just in time. If you’d been much later, I might well have eaten them all.” She pushed the silver serving bowl toward Megan and dipped her head toward a chair. “Sit. Eat. They’re delicious.”

  Megan sat and helped herself to a few strawberries. “Is Susan up?”

  “No.” With studied ease, Savannah looked at the paper while Megan began to eat. After several minutes, she glanced up. “How was your sleep?”

  “Not bad.” Megan gave a small, self-conscious grin. “I missed listening to the radio. At least he’s not on tonight, so there won’t be anything to miss.”

  Jared. Savannah’s heart knocked against her ribs for a minute before stilling. Megan was going to have to know about Jared, too, but this wasn’t the time. “Would you like to see the paper?”

  Megan shook her head. “The paper can be just as depressing as real life.”

  “Real life doesn’t have to be depressing.” When Megan rolled her eyes, Savannah asked, “How’s everything with Will?”

  “Just fine.”

  Savannah nearly left it at that. But something goaded her on. After another minute or two of silence, she said gently, “He told me things were tight financially. I suggested he hire a financial adviser. The right person could help.”

  Megan didn’t answer at first, and when she did, her eyes were averted. “I’ve told him that, too, but he’s resisted the idea. He’s a proud man.”

  “Which can be a strength or a weakness.”

  “Mmm.” She lowered her eyes then and concentrated on her strawberries. At the same time, Mrs. Stockley emerged to pour hot coffee and take orders for eggs. When Megan declined the offer, the portly woman wasn’t pleased.

  “You’ve lost weight, Megan. Beautiful as ever, but skinny. Now, I know what you’re thinking,” she said with a raised finger. “You’re thinking that I’m jealous because I wish I was thin, and you may be right. But still, I’ve only got you for two days and in that time I see it as my responsibility to feed you right. Therefore, what will you have? One, two, or three eggs? Soft-boiled, poached, scrambled, or fried?”

  Megan couldn’t help but smile. “Some things never change,” she told Savannah, then said to Mrs. Stockley, “One egg, easy over.”

  “Two eggs, easy over, with a croissant,” Mrs. Stockley said as though repeating the order, and then turned to Savannah. “Your regular?”

  Savannah grimaced. Her regular was two eggs scrambled with cheese, and a pecan roll. “I haven’t had that since the last time I was here.” She sucked in her stomach and looked from Mrs. Stockley to Megan. “Do I dare?”

  “You dare,” Mrs. Stockley said and vanished before Savannah could argue.

  Moments later, Susan swept onto the patio. While Savannah was wrapped in a muted sarong and Megan wore a long toweling robe, Susan was more dramatic in a flowing white caftan. It was a perfect foil for her toenails, which were painted scarlet, and her red hair, which was a wild tumble of curls made even wilder by the warmth of the southern air.

  Apprehensive, but determined not to show it, Savannah offered a casual, “Hi, Suse.”

  Susan looked annoyed. “So bright and chipper.” Softening, she asked Megan, “How’re you doing, hon?”

  “Not bad.” Megan gazed out toward the gulf. “It’s a gorgeous day.”

  Ignoring Susan’s snub, Savannah followed Megan’s gaze. She’d always loved the view from the patio, particularly when the sun was high in a clear blue sky, as it was now. Its rays danced between the fronds of tall palm trees to sprinkle the surface of the kidney-shaped pool with fairy dust. Beyond the pool was a sandy beach, and beyond that, the waves. She remembered likening Jared’s coloring to blue sky over a sandy beach. The thought warmed her.

  “Should we stay by the pool,” she asked, knowing that Susan preferred that to the sand, “or go to the beach?”

  “The beach,” Megan answered without pause. “I’ve always loved the so
und of the waves. It put me to sleep last night. I needed it.”

  Susan was lounging indolently in her chair. She had her long fingernails steepled against one another and her lips pursed. “What we needed,” she said in a slow, not entirely pleasant tone, “was Jared Snow to croon to us. You listen to him, don’t you, Meggie?”

  “All the time.”

  “Have you ever wondered who he really is? Or what he looks like? Or who he dates?”

  Megan didn’t answer, because Susan was suddenly staring at Savannah. Savannah opened her hand against the edge of the glass table. “Not now, Suse.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we’re here, and he’s there.”

  “And you want to keep your secret a little while longer? You must have died when I went to your house on Thursday night. Why in the hell did you let him open your door?”

  “He opened the door because I wasn’t feeling well, and, besides, it’s not such a great secret that I’m seeing him.”

  “So why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because there was never a good time.”

  “Never a good time—I don’t believe you. We spent our birthday together, the entire day, and don’t tell me that you weren’t with him then, because I’m not dumb. There was the matter of that phone call, with those dreamy little smiles. And that teddy. He was the reason you bought it, and if that wasn’t a good time to tell me about him, I don’t know what would have been.” She barely paused for a breath. “There were dozens of times that day when you could have said something, and there’ve been dozens of times since. I’m your sister, for God’s sake! That man isn’t just anybody, but you didn’t see fit to clue me in that you even knew him, much less were having an affair with him. How do you think I felt ringing your bell and finding him there?”

  “Angry,” Savannah said. “But you have no right to be angry, Susan. Maybe hurt, or disappointed—”

  “Angry!”

  But Savannah wasn’t yielding. “No. I should have told you sooner, I was wrong about that, but I felt I had valid reasons for not doing it.”

  “Valid reasons, my foot!”

  “There were.”

  Megan shouted, “Whoa!” Startled, Savannah and Susan swung their heads her way as she asked, “What’s going on? Who is Savvy involved with?”

  “Jared Snow!” Susan cried before Savannah could say the name herself. “She’s having an affair with Jared Snow.”

  Megan’s eyes widened. “Jared Snow?”

  “Your Jared Snow. My Jared Snow. All of Rhode Island’s Jared Snow, only he isn’t really ours.” She glared at her sister. “He’s Savannah’s.”

  Megan was having no part of Susan’s fury. Her eyes remained wide and, however briefly, she escaped the pall that had hung over her since the kidnapping. “Really, Savvy?”

  The brief question, asked in a hushed, but excited tone was justification in itself for Savannah’s having pushed for the weekend. Often before, Megan had been a buffer between Savannah and Susan, stepping in when their arguments approached the absurd. There had been times when Savannah had resented it. She could have kissed Megan now, though. “Really,” she acknowledged with a smile.

  “What’s he like?” Megan whispered. “Handsome?”

  Still smiling, Savannah nodded.

  “Tall? Well built?”

  Savannah nodded at each.

  “On the radio, he seems totally at peace with himself and the world. Is he in real life?”

  That took more than a nod. “His life has had ups and downs, but right now he’s pretty content with what he’s doing.”

  “What about his voice? Does he always talk that way? Lord, do I love the way he talks. I swear, I could listen to that lazy drawl all night—”

  “For God’s sake, Megan,” Susan cried. “Stop drooling. You’re married.”

  Megan replied with a strength that was reminiscent of her old self. “Of course I’m married, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t admire another man. I’m not saying that I want to have an affair with him, just that I’m intrigued. I love Will,” she told Savannah. “I’m no threat to you.”

  “I know that,” Savannah said gently.

  “So tell me more about him. What color are his eyes?”

  “Blue.”

  Megan sucked in a breath. “And hair?”

  “Sandy. Blond, brown, maybe a little silver.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Old enough to know better,” Susan injected archly.

  Savannah frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

  “He should know that you’re married to your job.”

  “I’m not—”

  “How much time do you have to give a man? Seriously, Savannah, can you be both a lawyer and a wife?”

  For the first time, Savannah grew defensive. “No one mentioned my being a wife.”

  “Then, woman. Lover. What kind of man will stand for the kinds of hours you keep?”

  “You’re incredible!” Savannah cried. “The other night you were accusing Sam of being old-fashioned. Look who’s talking. Nowadays women do do both, and their men respect them for it.” She prayed she’d said it with conviction, because she wasn’t sure it was true.

  “Which raises a whole lot of other questions,” Megan put in in a loud enough voice to capture both sisters’ attention. “How did you meet? When do you see him? That has to be a real problem, since he works all night.”

  “I’d like to hear the answer to that one, too,” Susan announced, tipping her head to a haughty angle. “Normal lovers spend their nights together. You two can’t do that.”

  Savannah took a deep, calming breath. This part of Susan’s challenge she didn’t mind, particularly since it channeled the discussion away from the issue of how she and Jared had met. She didn’t want to go into that in front of Megan, particularly when Megan seemed to have forgotten the kidnapping for the moment.

  “It takes a little imagination,” she said with a dry grin.

  “Do you stay at his place?” Megan asked.

  “Sometimes.”

  “Where does he live?” Susan asked.

  That one gave Savannah a twinge of discomfort. But she couldn’t think of a way to duck the question without arousing even more curiosity. “He owns the big Victorian that houses the radio station. He lives on the second and third floors.”

  Megan loved that. “So you sleep in his bed while he’s on the air. Do you have any idea how many women in Rhode Island would go nuts if they knew that?”

  Savannah shrugged. “They must guess that he has someone.”

  “No, no,” Megan said, “that’s not the fantasy. The fantasy is that he’s talking to me,” she tapped her fingertips to her chest, “and only me. I don’t think about his woman.”

  Susan snorted. “I saw a cartoon once in Cosmopolitan. There was this lady DJ who was sitting nude at the mike while her lover pulled on his pants.” Savannah had put her coffee cup to her lips and was hiding behind it, but Susan’s focus was on Megan. “She was telling her listening audience that she hoped they’d enjoyed the album she’d just played as much as she had.” She looked at Savannah. “Is that what you do?”

  Savannah would have choked if she’d actually been drinking the coffee. Spared that, she took refuge in indignation, firmly setting down the cup and frowning at her sister. “That’s a really personal question, Suse, and inappropriate.”

  “It’s not inappropriate at all. It’s exactly what this discussion’s about.”

  “Do I ask you what you do in bed? Did I ever ask where or how often you and Dirk made love?”

  Susan’s head was tipped at that same slightly haughty angle. “No, but you could have. Dirk and I made love wherever the mood took us, usually four or five times a week. We tried positions you’ve probably never even heard of. There was one that we used in the car one night—”

  Hands over her ears, Savannah interrupted her. “I don’t want to hear this.”

  But Susan
was on a roll. Making Savannah squirm gave her perverse pleasure. “Maybe you’d rather hear about what I do with Sam. He’s a beautiful animal, Savannah. Has the rhythm and the moves. I’ve never seen a man with such sweet glory between his legs—”

  It was Megan who quietly interrupted her. “Don’t, Susan.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Cheapen something that should be private and beautiful. If you enjoy Sam, that’s great. But don’t tell us the intimate details.”

  Susan hadn’t expected criticism from that quarter. “You wanted intimate details about Jared Snow.”

  “Details, but not intimate. I don’t want to know the really private things. It’s embarrassing.”

  Susan looked from one face to the other in disbelief. “What’s the matter with you two? We used to sit around discussing things like this all the time. All of a sudden, you’ve both gone prudish on me.”

  “Some things are sacred,” Megan said and focused unseeingly on the beach. She was thinking about Will, thinking about how beautiful loving used to be between them and how she couldn’t even undress in front of him now. The bruises were fading, but their memory remained. When she thought of Will entering her body, she thought of those other, brutal invasions.

  It didn’t take a genius to interpret the stricken look on her face. Susan went very quiet, while Savannah put her hand on Megan’s. “It’ll get better,” she said softly. “It will, Meggie.”

  Megan averted her eyes, then nodded, and Mrs. Stockley chose that moment to return with breakfast, giving them a diversion. Only when the older woman had returned to the kitchen with Susan’s order did Savannah speak.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve offended either of you for not having mentioned Jared sooner. Maybe I should have, but I thought I was doing the best thing.”

  Having vented her anger, and having been sobered by Megan’s look, Susan was calming down. It still irked her that Savannah hadn’t seen fit to tell her about Jared. Mostly it irked her that Savannah, who had so much else, should have Jared at all. But the fact was that having seen the man in person, Susan wasn’t interested in him. Sure, he was handsome and had stud proportions. But those proportions didn’t set off any sparks inside her. Certainly not in the way Sam’s did, damn his Neanderthal hide.