by Belva Plain
No matter how far you went from home or how long you were away, you were connected, especially if there was any kind of worry. Feeling a sudden sinking around the heart and knowing what the reply would be, Nina asked, nevertheless, whether there was anything she might do.
“Nothing, dear. Nothing. I’m sure it’ll come out all right in the end. We’ve been through crises before. Remember Hong Kong? That was the absolute worst.”
Margaret was tenacious. Left to her it would come out all right in the end. Thinking so, at the same instant another thought flashed: Instinctively, one conceived of Margaret as the source of confidence, not Adam. Perhaps it was because he was more sensitive than she.…
“Danny’s birthday’s coming up soon. What shall I give him?”
“I’ll find out and let you know. But don’t go spending a fortune.”
“Only what I can afford.”
“You’re too generous sometimes, Nina. I want you to save for yourself.”
“Darling, don’t worry about me. Oh, there’s the bell. It’s Keith. Talk to you tomorrow, maybe. Or Saturday. Bye.”
“Who was that on the phone?” asked Keith. “I heard you say ‘darling.’ Do I have a rival?”
“Idiot. I was talking to Margaret.”
He kissed her; cold lips and cold cheek pressed hers.
“Ouch! You’re freezing.”
“It’s freezing out, starting to snow a few flakes.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll warm you. How was your day?”
“Not bad except that I’m starved. What’s for dinner? We should have gone out, but you insisted. I like your velvet pants. Can I do anything?”
“No. I’m all ready. You can uncork the wine. Is it okay? I’m only just learning about wines, although I should know more. Adam always had good wines.”
“Nothing wrong with a Sancerre. I’d say you’ve already learned very well.”
It was cozy there, with the lavish little table between them, the cat asleep under the window, and the old clock’s tinny bong as it struck seven. Man and woman together at the end of the day, she thought. Husband and wife, she thought, embarrassing herself for being so hasty, and then rebuked herself, mocking: Hold on. A little feminine modesty, please, and wait till you’re invited.
“Are you going back west over Christmas?” Keith asked.
Not knowing what to say without knowing his plans, she hesitated.
“I’ll be in Florida. My brother has a place there. He lives there all year round.”
She said promptly, “Yes, I’ll take a few days. I miss them all, especially the kids.”
“They always sound like such special people when you talk about them.”
“Well, they are. And our relationship’s rather special. Margaret’s fifteen years older than I am, sort of halfway between being a mother and a sister. Maybe more of a mother,” Nina reflected. “She’s a completely giving person. She gave up medical school out of love. Took care of her mother and her mother-in-law, teaches school, reared three good kids, plus me, for heaven’s sake.”
“She sounds almost too good to be true.”
“She’s true, all right. But Margaret’s no martyr type, believe me. She’s too strong for that. The whole thing is, she adores Adam. She’d go through fire for Adam.”
“And he adores her too?”
“Oh, absolutely. I guess that’s what’s made such a good home for all of us. It’s been the foundation. People always say the Cranes are ideal together.”
Keith reached across the table and took her hand. “You’re the sweetest girl, Nina.”
“Not that I mind, but you are supposed to say ‘woman’ nowadays, you know.”
“The hell with it. Sometimes I think you are still almost a child, naive and trusting. And yet at other times I think of you as ambitious, smart, and sexy. A young woman of the nineties. You confuse me.”
“Well, you should have seen me today. Pardon me for boasting, but I’ve got to tell somebody, meaning you, that this morning I signed up a ninety-five-thousand-dollar order for a penthouse redecoration. The whole place is to be done in Art Deco. Even the woman’s jewelry is Art Deco. Can you imagine all that platinum filigree? Anyway, I thought Ernie and Willie would jump out of their skins, because she’s a tough-minded customer, and they had been sure she was just shopping around, wasting time.”
“You’ll be a partner someday if you keep this up.”
Nina sighed. “I hope so. They like me and I like them. They’re critical, touchy, funny, and very kind. When I had the flu—that was before I knew you—they sent dinner in for me every night. You ought to see where they live. The whole building belongs to them, you know. They have a duplex apartment above the shop with a marble staircase between the floors. White marble. It’s all quite dramatic, quite eclectic, with French antiques, old portraits, modern sculpture, flowering shrubs, the works. They give great parties. Maybe I’ll take you next time they invite me. If you want to go,” she added quickly.
“Right now I want to go in there with you,” Keith answered, pointing to the bedroom.
For a while they lay together in the profound peace that follows the joining. Keith had sent a second gardenia plant, which she had placed near the window, close to the bed, and the air was sweet with its fragrance. The lamp’s light was reflected in the window, from which there sounded a faint intermittent rattle.
“Sleet. I’d better get up. I hate to leave you,” Keith said reluctantly. “I wish I could stay all night like this.”
“Can’t you?”
“Clothes. I have to get back. It’s nine-thirty, and this may turn out to be a real storm.”
“Luckily, you’ve only a few blocks to go.”
“Five more minutes.” He looked at the glowing figures on the bedside clock. “Then I’ll jump up at once.” He paused. “I was thinking … Nina, after Christmas do you suppose they’d let you take a few extra days?”
“I’d just be getting back from a holiday. Why?”
“I have business in Prague. I thought maybe you’d like to go with me.”
She sat straight up. “Like to! Like to! Europe? Would I ever!”
“Well, ask them. I’ll bet that your Willie and Ernie would say yes.”
She considered for a moment, then, shining with delight, said slowly, “You know, I really do believe they will. I’ll make them say yes.”
“Darling Nina.”
At thirty-seven thousand feet they had left winter far below.
“I read the international weather report this morning,” Nina said. “It’s even colder in Prague than it is here.”
“Don’t worry. I think you’re well prepared for either one of the poles.”
“Ernie told me to buy a shearling coat. I always wanted one, anyway, and never got around to it.”
“I can’t imagine why anybody would choose to go to Europe in January unless for the skiing,” Ernie had said. “But do buy a shearling while you’re at it. I always think black is appropriate, with an adorable hat to match.”
The coat and the adorable hat now hung in the closet and a new leather carry-on was tucked under the seat. The flight attendant had brought cocktails, the last announcement had come from the cockpit, and over all there was an agreeable atmosphere of safe adventure.
“I can’t believe it,” murmured Nina.
“Can’t believe what, darling?”
“That we’re really on our way. Let’s see, we’ve been out for half an hour. Didn’t he say we fly seven hundred miles an hour? Or was it more? So we’re at least three hundred fifty miles out over the ocean.”
Keith smiled. “I get such pleasure just from watching your expressions, the way they go from wonderment, so serious and wide eyed, to that smile of delight. It’s like taking a child to a toy store.”
No, she thought, it’s far, far more than you know or than I’m going to admit to you.
The truth was that, as they streamed through the lonely black darkness, here in the mi
raculous warm comfort of the first-class cabin with his arm touching hers, she was feeling married. This must be what it meant to be one. It must be what Margaret felt when sometimes, in the evening, she looked over at Adam as with eyes shut he lay back in his reclining chair, listening to music; then Margaret, watching him, would smile her small, contented smile.
She reached over now and placed her hand on Keith’s. The flight attendant, catching the gesture, would think that perhaps they were on their honeymoon.
“I’m very happy,” she whispered.
“And so am I, little Nina. So am I.”
* * *
When, hours later, they touched down in Prague, the ground wore a deep, white snow cover, and a few late desultory flakes were drifting.
Keith had ordered a car. Driving slowly to avoid slippery patches, he was able to give a brief guided tour.
“There’s Hradčany, that huge structure on the hill. It’s a compound, almost a town in itself, with the palaces, the cathedral, a town hall, a museum, a monastery—well, you’ll see it. We’ll spend almost a whole day there. There’s the river, the Moldau. Lord, it’s cold! Look at those floating ice chunks. You should see the crowds on the Charles Bridge in the summer, artists doing portraits for the tourists, musicians, happy kids dancing—it’s a spectacle. You’ll want to come back here, I guarantee. This is my third time.”
Nothing was ever wasted on Keith. He savored, remembered, analyzed, and enjoyed. His curiosity was catching.
“Do you realize,” he said, “that we’ve been awake since yesterday morning? I propose that we go upstairs and have a good sleep.”
“Upstairs” was a suite of two rooms filled with an enormous bed, with chairs and sofas all overstuffed, very comfortable, and incredibly dowdy.
Keith laughed. “Typically middle European. It would hardly do for Crozier and Dexter, would it?”
She burst out laughing at the thought of Ernie and Willie confronting the bulge of that armoire. But the feather bed, after thirty hours without sleep, looked wonderful. And this was to be their first time to spend an entire night together.
It was the first time, too, that they made love in the morning before breakfast. “It’s different in the morning,” observed Nina.
“How different can it be?”
“Just—I don’t know.”
But upon reflection she found that she did know very well. It was the feel of permanence that made the difference, as if they belonged together and could do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted.
“Today’s the day for Hradčany. The whole day. We can take a bus, or we can climb. I warn you that the hill is like a stepladder.”
“We’ll climb,” said Nina, filled as she was with energy and joy. “I want to see everything.” And she flung her arms out. Everything. The world.
The view from the top was glorious. The cathedral was dressed in stone lace. The gardens around the royal summer palace, though covered in snow, were beautiful. In the museum Keith led her on a little tour of his own, stopping before a portrait of a woman who held in one hand a streamer of her own long, gleaming hair.
“It’s a famous Titian,” he explained. “She lived a few centuries ago, but she could be you today.”
“I don’t see that at all.”
“Look again. Even the arc of the eyebrow is yours.”
And he stood there, in the dimming light of the old museum, looking back and forth with satisfaction from the portrait to the living woman.
There were flowers in the hotel room when they returned to it that night.
“They should have been here on the first night,” Keith said, frowning. “But somebody forgot. There’s no excuse for that.”
He was meticulous, never late himself, never forgetful of even a casual promise. Nina had already learned that he had little tolerance for people who were late or forgetful. And this awareness of a small human failing gave her a secret pleasure, because it made him real instead of a romantic girl’s dreamy, impossible creation.
So ended their first day.
And their few days raced by. They saw the old Town Hall, went to a concert and ate goulash and strudel in smoky little restaurants. In a gallery Keith bought a watercolor, a sketch of the Moldau under soft spring rain, for her to take home.
“Whoever did it is an artist, no amateur,” he said. “With a really good frame you’ll cherish it. You’ll remember our days here.”
“Do you really think I could forget them?” she asked. And she looked at him, feeling the truth in the cliché about “having one’s heart in one’s eyes.”
“Sweet Nina,” he said. “Wonderful Nina. I’d like to go around the world with you.”
“Well, invite me,” she answered gaily.
“How about Outer Mongolia for a start?”
With mock correctness she considered the offer, and then, truly in earnest, responded, “I’d rather take Paris for a start.”
“Fine. That’s easy enough.”
A daring possibility occurring to her, she asked whether they had seen everything they should see here.
“ ‘Everything’? Of course not. But we have had more than a good bird’s-eye view, that’s sure.”
“I was thinking that maybe—can we maybe leave here a little sooner and have one day in Paris? If I could just see it for one day I’d be so thrilled! I’d have that much to remember of it and look forward to seeing again. Can we, Keith?”
They were at dinner in the hotel, almost finished, and Keith was taking a credit card out of his wallet. For a moment he stared at it, replaced it, took out a traveler’s check, replaced that, and took out the credit card. Nina’s question, her little appeal, went unanswered. It was as if he had suddenly become confused, suddenly somber.
“We can’t talk about it here,” he said then. “Let’s go upstairs. There’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you anyway.”
She felt her breath quicken, not with alarm, but rather with expectation, as if some surprise was coming: the Question, perhaps?
When he took his seat in one of the fat, overstuffed chairs, she sat down across from him in its twin and waited. After a silent moment or two he got up to stand at the window, looking into the night. For what seemed a long time she waited.
He turned around, looking intensely troubled. “We’ll have to postpone Paris for another time. That’s one place where we can’t be seen together.”
She was astonished. “I don’t understand! Not be seen? That sounds crazy.”
“I know it does, but if you listen, you will understand.”
“I’m listening, Keith. Go ahead.”
He walked the length of the room and, returning, began. “Have you ever done anything absolutely stupid and absolutely unforgivable? And knowing that it was, postponed the confession of it because you were so ashamed and afraid of not being forgiven?”
“No,” she said truthfully. Her heart had begun to pound and she trembled. Instinctively, she crossed her arms, as if for protection, on her chest.
Very slowly, very low, he said, “I’m married, Nina.”
She went numb. Married. If he had said, I just robbed a bank, or I just shot a man, the words could have been no more stunning.
“I should have told you that first night when we went out for a drink, the time you brought the lamp. But I knew I had to see you again, and I was afraid you’d refuse me. A lot of women these days, at least the ones I’ve met, wouldn’t care one way or the other, but I had the feeling that you would.” Keith’s voice pleaded. “And I didn’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose you now.”
How dared he! How could he?
“I’m getting a divorce, Nina. So my deception really isn’t as bad as it must sound. The trouble is that the damn business takes so damn long. If you’ll just bear with me …” And he wrung his hands.
She stared at him, thinking: After all, you’re a stranger. What do I know about you?
Keith was saying, “That’s the reason, you s
ee, why we can’t be together in Paris. You almost always meet someone there who knows you. There’s much less risk here, especially in the winter. Someday I’ll take you to Paris, but—”
“Risk?” she cried. “Do you think I give a damn about Paris after what you’ve just told me? And anyway, what risk is there, since as you say, you’re getting a divorce?”
“It’s more complicated than that. We haven’t made it public yet. We’re still seen as an intact family.”
“ ‘Intact family’! You bastard! You lied, you tricked me, you put me in this position where you have to hide me as if—as if I were a whore that you’re ashamed to be seen with!”
She burst out crying and covered her face with her hands. Pain, such pain! She had been pierced through. She was bleeding.
Kneeling on the footstool before her, he tried to take her hands away, to wipe her tears.
“Nina, please, darling, don’t cry. Be patient with me, please. Please. I know you’re furious, and you have a right to be. But I know you love me too. I know you do. When you think about it, you’ll forgive me.”
Married. A rage of jealousy raced through Nina’s body. All the time, as he had lain with her, as she slept beside him feeling the thud of his heart against hers, inhaling the warm, clean scent of his skin, so he lay with another woman, one who bore his name, wore his ring, and had the legal, honorable certificate tucked away in some drawer, some vault.… Married. She turned cold, unable to speak, with a silent scream stuck in her throat.
“Nina, for God’s sake, say something.”
People passed in the corridor; a man’s voice said, “You haven’t met my wife yet, have you? Annie, this is—”
Through her fingers Nina whispered, “What is her name?”
“Cynthia.”
“And are there any children?”
“Nina, sweetheart, we needn’t go into all this. It’s too hard on you. I’m getting a divorce. That’s all you need to know. Nothing else matters.”
