by Sandra Brown
Camille clung to her mother one last time and kissed her on the cheek. “Dear, I only hope that you are as happy in your marriage as I was in mine. I think Zack is perfect for you. Make lots of gorgeous babies for Rayburn and me.”
“Young Prescott will see to that, you can bet, Mrs. Jameson.” Dr. Daniels winked broadly at Camille and dug an elbow in Zack’s stomach. “Come along now, we don’t want you to miss your airplane.”
They walked down the corridor chatting amiably, and Camille stood alone with her husband. Husband! All that the word denoted came washing over her, inundating her with panic. She had the mad desire to run after her mother and cling to her.
As though divining her thoughts, Zack gripped her elbow and led her back toward Rayburn’s room. “I want to talk to my father,” he growled, but with a forced smile for the benefit of the nurses and doctors who were now going about their business in the halls but still eyeing the newlyweds.
They reached the door of Rayburn’s room and met Nurse Stone Face as she was coming out. “Where do you think you’re going?” she asked haughtily.
“We’re going in for one final word with my father. If you don’t mind.” Camille knew by the rigid lines around his mouth that Zack was trying hard not to lose his temper. It was becoming a taxing effort.
“Well, I do mind, Mr. Prescott. He’s asked me not to let anyone in. He’s exhausted after the events of this afternoon. I’ve just given him a shot to make him sleep and he’s probably already dropped off. I won’t permit you to go in and get him all excited again.”
Zack expulsed his breath in extreme agitation. “Very well, we’ll see him first thing in the morning.”
He turned, and, taking Camille’s arm, steered her toward the elevator. They stood in silence as they watched the light above the door illuminate the numbers of the floors as it made its way up to them. They stared as if the mechanism were the most fascinating thing in the world. When the doors opened, they stepped into the cubicle, and Mr. and Mrs. Zachary Prescott rode down to the first floor without speaking, without touching, without even looking at each other.
Nine
“It’s still early yet for dinner. Did you have anything planned for this afternoon?”
Camille was so apprehensive about Zack’s unpredictable mood that she actually jumped when he asked her the question as he swung his car out of the hospital parking lot. As far as she could tell, his voice was controlled and revealed no anger.
“I… uh… I had planned to do some shopping at the mall. There are a few things I needed, but—”
“Then we’ll go shopping. Dearly asked me if I would take you out to dinner. She and Simon are busy at home moving your things into the main house.”
The corners of his mouth lifted into the semblance of a smile, and he glanced at her to see if the implications of what he’d said registered. They had—all too well. She swallowed convulsively and only nodded in response as she twisted the unfamiliar gold band around her finger.
He parked the car in the vast acreage of the parking lot, and they walked into the shopping mall whose modernity was somehow incongruous with the antique flavor of Natchez. None of the citizens seemed to mind this variance for the mall was full of shoppers. Zack took a possessive hold on Camille’s arm as they wended their way through the crowd. Would anyone have believed that this was what a couple would find to do only hours after being married?
Camille stopped short when she saw another couple coming toward them. She cried, “Rick!” and put both palms up to her face when she remembered that she had a date with him tonight! Now she was a married woman!
He appeared to be just as embarrassed as she. Did the small, black-haired young woman standing with him have anything to do with his abashment? The girl had a sweet face and big brown eyes that seemed almost liquid and held the same sadness that sometimes characterized Rick’s own.
“Hello, Rick, Laura.” Camille was glad that Zack was taking command of the situation. “Laura Wimberly, I’d like for you to meet Camille. She and I were married this afternoon. You two can be among the first to congratulate us.”
There was a momentary stunned pause. Rick looked first at Zack as if he had grown two heads, then at Camille, who expressed an apology with her eyes.
“Well, that’s great, you two!” Rick said heartily. Camille thought that his sentiment was sincere. “Zack, congratulations. Camille, best wishes. You couldn’t have found a better man than Zack Prescott. I mean that.”
“Thank you, Rick.”
“Mrs. Prescott, Rick has told me so much about you. I’m glad I’ve met you. I hope you and Zack will be very happy together.” Laura Wimberly’s voice was soft and musical. She smiled on Camille and Zack with a sincere sweetness that wrenched Camille’s heart. Was this the married woman that Zack had told her Rick was having an affair with? Somehow, these two young people didn’t fit such a tawdry image.
Laura raised her eyes to Rick’s, and Camille’s speculation that they were truly in love was confirmed when Rick returned her tender expression. He gazed lovingly down at Laura, who barely reached the middle of his chest.
“How is Mr. Wimberly, Laura?” Zack’s question was quiet and kind and full of… what? Pity?
“He’s not doing too well. I… he needed some things so Rick met… he offered to bring me out here,” she stammered in a whisper and hung her head, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.
Rick’s arm stole around her shoulders, and she leaned against him. “I guess we’d better get on with our errands. Her… Mr. Wimberly will be expecting her back soon. Congratulations again, Zack. Camille.” Rick nodded to both of them, and, after Laura said a shy good-bye, they walked away together.
Zack steered Camille toward an arbor away from the main flow of traffic and seated her on a vacant bench. He leaned forward and supported his elbows on his knees, studying his hands clasped between them.
He cleared his throat. “I’m ashamed of myself. I need to make the situation clear. Earlier today I told you that Rick was having an affair with a married woman. I intentionally made it sound ugly. I was being unfair to both him and Laura.” He sighed and rubbed his palms briskly up and down his thighs. “In the first place, I doubt that Rick O’Malley would sleep with another man’s wife, no matter how much he loved her. And in the second place, I know Laura would never commit adultery.”
Camille was uneasy. She had never seen Zack truly apologize for anything. This was a new side of him. “Tell me about them. If it’s not confidential.”
“Hell, it’s not confidential. In that, I was being honest with you. Their story keeps the town gossips supplied with new material.” He drew a deep breath and stared off into space as he began. “Rick and Laura started dating when they were in junior high school, and it was one of those romances that lasts forever. They never dated anyone else. They were an institution. It was assumed that when they graduated, they would get married. Laura’s family was… well, there is no nice word to describe them. They were trash. It’s a miracle that Laura is what she is. Anyway, her old man sold her to Jesse Wimberly. I think that old bastard gave her father a thousand dollars for her.” At Camille’s appalled gasp, Zack continued, “Yeah, incredible, isn’t it? In this, the twentieth century. This Wimberly is a reprobate, a former bootlegger, and older than any father. It hasn’t been easy for her. There are all kinds of horror stories about the way he treats her. He’s even worse than the family was.
“When she got married, Rick enlisted in the Army and volunteered for duty in Vietnam. He tried every way possible to get himself killed. He was awarded every medal for bravery—or stupidity. But in spite of himself, he lived and finally came home. I think you can figure out the rest.”
“But why doesn’t she just leave Wimberly? She and Rick belong together!”
Zack was taken aback by her vehemence, but he answered calmly. “Old Man Wimberly is sick. She’d never leave him, despite what he’s done to her. Besides, she knows how much Rick’s religion me
ans to him. She wouldn’t burden him with the guilt of taking another man’s wife even if she could get a divorce. She encourages Rick to see other women, and he does occasionally, but everyone knows where his heart is. The best they can hope for is that that old geezer will die soon. I hear he’s bedridden now.”
“That’s a terrible way to think, but I can’t help but hope that it will happen. They seemed so much in love with each other.”
“Are you upset? Were you becoming… attached to him?”
“Oh, Zack!” She was exasperated. “Of course not! I like him, and he’s great fun. Even through his clowning, though, I saw that he was sad.”
“Yeah. I think he overcompensates by being a cutup.”
“It’s so tragic,” Camille murmured. Secretly, she was jealous of the obvious love Rick had for Laura. Zack would never look at her with such warmth and affection.
“I take it that your date with Rick is off for tonight?” Zack asked the question lightly, and Camille joined his laughter.
“Yes, I guess it is,” she answered as they walked down the broad, brightly lit aisles of the mall.
“What did you need, Camille?”
For the life of her, she couldn’t remember what she had been going to shop for. It had been an unnerving afternoon. “It… I… some clothes,” she stammered.
“Okay.” He took her arm and led her to one of the best ladies’ shops in the mall. When she demurred, he said gently, “You’re not on a working girl’s budget anymore, Camille. If I think you can afford it, you can.”
Under the careful, experienced advice of the gracious saleswoman, Camille tried on several sportswear outfits. She was conscious of Zack’s detached inspection as the woman suggested that she model each ensemble for him. She selected a navy wool blazer, camel skirt, and ivory crepe shirt.
“I think I’ll take this, Zack. It’s practical and easy to wear.” She had been shocked at the price tags, which she had conscientiously, though secretly, checked.
He nodded his approval, but asked, “Didn’t you like the yellow skirt and sweater?”
“Yes, they were lovely, but—”
“And the green pantsuit with that shiny… silk?… blouse?”
“Well, yes, I like them all, but—”
“Did they fit you?”
“They fit her beautifully. She’s a perfect eight,” the saleswoman interjected, beginning to anticipate a larger sale.
“We’ll take them all then,” Zack told her, ignoring Camille’s astonished look. “Have everything pressed and delivered to Bridal Wreath.”
“Yes, of course. You must be Mr. Prescott! I’ve read about you in the society pages.”
Zack looked annoyed but said, “This is my wife—”
“So, you and Mrs. Hazelett finally married!”
Camille blushed to the roots of her hair and Zack’s face was lived with anger as he answered the woman in cold level tones. “No. This is my wife, the former Camille Jameson of Atlanta. We’ll expect the clothes the first thing Monday morning or cancel the purchase.”
The saleswoman was aghast at her mistake and tried desperately to make amends. “Surely, Mr. Prescott. I’ll… We’ll… I’m happy to have your beautiful wife shopping in my store. Her taste is excellent. We’ll send a bill with the clothes. No need to worry about it now.”
“Thank you. Camille, I’ll wait outside while you’re changing.”
After she had changed and thanked the flustered saleswoman once again, she left the shop and spotted Zack standing beside one of the fountains in the center of the mall. He had one foot propped up on the low wall of the pool, his hands crossed over the raised knee. He was talking and laughing with two young girls. One of them was a dazzling blonde with big bosoms shamelessly displayed under a tight pink sweater. Camille flushed hotly with jealousy. Zack was reacting with obvious appreciation for the girl’s endowments. He saw Camille out of the corner of his eye, and, saying good-bye to the girls, walked over to take her arm.
They had taken only a few steps when Camille said scathingly, “I see that you managed to amuse yourself while you were waiting for me. I’ve never understood why men find such vulgar women attractive.”
He threw back his head and laughed lustily, squeezing her arm. “Jealous already? Here we’ve been married only a few hours and you sound like a shrewish wife.”
His amusement made her even angrier. “Well, if you must flirt, you could at least choose someone closer to your own age! They were hardly more than girls.”
He laughed again even harder. “I’ve known those women for most of their lives, and the one with the breast is older than you, dear heart.”
“Oh,” Camille replied, embarrassed and refusing to meet his eyes, which were twinkling with humor.
It had grown dark while they were in the mall, and, as they traversed the parking lot toward the car, Camille’s stomach growled loudly with hunger.
“I guess I’m going to have to feed you before you cave in,” chuckled Zack and, reaching inside her jacket, placed his hand over her stomach just below her breasts. Camille came to an abrupt halt when his fingers moved against the silkiness of her shirt. His other arm was draped across her shoulders and, as they stopped walking, he drew her closer against him. “If we weren’t in such a public place, I’d touch you in other places, Camille. You tempt me sorely.” He whispered the words against her ear and kissed it lightly before removing his hand and propelling her the rest of the way to the car. She crumpled into the front seat. Her legs had seemingly turned to gelatin.
Zack had chosen The Side Track restaurant for them to take dinner in. It was an old converted railroad building sitting virtually on the train tracks. They enjoyed a sumptuous meal of steaks and baked potatoes after an appetizer of fried zucchini sprinkled with seasonings and grated parmesan cheese. Zack ordered a bottle of wine with dinner, and Camille was feeling a warm glow from the food, the wine, and the man—her husband—across the table from her. He talked her into an ice cream dessert with liqueur and almonds on top of it.
“I won’t be able to get into my new clothes if I eat like this all the time,” she exclaimed as the aproned waiter set the concoction before her.
Zack smiled at her warmly as he leaned back negligently in his chair and sipped his coffee. She returned his smile then said slowly, “Zack, I want to thank you for the clothes. They’re lovely. You shouldn’t—”
“Camille, you’re my wife now. You obtained that title in an unorthodox manner, I’ll grant you, but you are just the same. Any material thing I have belongs to you now. I want you to remember that and take advantage of it.” He leaned forward with his elbows on the table. He lowered his voice as his azure eyes searched her face in the candlelight. “Camille, I want you to know—”
“Since when do you take the hired help out on the town, Zack?”
Camille and Zack turned at the same time to see Erica Hazelett standing next to the table. They had been so engrossed in each other, they hadn’t seen her come in. She stood beside them in her model’s pose, dressed in a soft jersey dress of blue that caressed her slim frame and made her ice-blue eyes seem even more frigid. She lay a possessive hand on Zack’s shoulder, and Camille bristled with anger. Hired help indeed!
“Hello, Erica.” Zack didn’t stand up for her but looked up into her face, which, in the reflected candlelight, was beautiful. Camille watched the two of them with a sinking heart. Why did she have to show up here and now, reminding Zack of how he had been forced to marry someone he felt only contempt for when this was the woman he truly loved? And what had he been about to say when Erica interrupted? She was always making an appearance at the wrong time.
“You’ve met Camille, I believe,” Zack said while Erica’s hand moved across his shoulders in leisurely exploration.
“Yes. Hi, Camille,” she said a shade ungraciously.
“Erica,” Camille returned.
Just then an average-looking middle-aged man joined Erica, and she introduced hi
m as a business associate of her late husband’s who was in Natchez to consult with her on some business-related matters. Camille didn’t catch all of his name, for Erica made the obligatory introductions with blatant disinterest in her escort.
“You haven’t answered my question, Zack. Since when do you take your employees out to dinner?” Erica’s beauty was marred as her mouth curled into a sneer when she looked at Camille.
“Camille is no longer just our decorator, Erica. She’s my wife. We were married this afternoon.” Zack’s tone was expressionless, and Camille felt a momentary pang of pity for him. It must be terrible to be stuck with an unwanted wife and forced to present her to the woman you loved.
Erica’s eyes turned even colder as they glinted in the candlelight. “You must be joking,” she scoffed.
“No. I’m not joking,” Zack snapped.
Erica removed her hand from Zack’s shoulder as if it had been burned. Then she turned her icy eyes on Camille, eyes full of pure hatred. Camille could almost feel the pinpoints of light that were Erica’s eyes stab into her flesh, and she hated herself for cringing under the malevolent stare.
Erica whipped her face back to Zack and asked him harshly, “What happened? Were you careless and got her pregnant?”
Camille uttered a small cry of indignation and protest as she stood, grabbing her purse and coat. To her surprise Zack stood and came around the table to take her arm. They brushed past the other couple, Erica’s escort viewing the entire scene with awe, his mouth slack in shock at Erica’s incredibly bad manners and lack of decorum.
They hurried past, but Erica grabbed Zack’s elbow and spun him around to face her. Since he had such a firm grip on Camille’s arm, she had no choice but to stop as well.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing, Zack? I know you didn’t marry her for love because you love me. Does this change anything between us? Do you still feel the same way toward me?” Erica’s voice was hard, but Camille noted a pleading quality in it, too.
