Sins of the Flesh

by Fern Michaels

  Rajean watched her husband from her position at the front window. When he didn’t come upstairs immediately she followed his progress with her ears, listening to him walk through the house to the kitchen and then out to the small walled garden. When the screen door closed behind him she knew he was on his way up to their room. Quickly she settled herself on the chaise and flipped open a magazine. When she heard Daniel stop at her daughter’s bedroom door, she smiled. His love for her daughter was so touching…and so fortunate. For it was through Nellie that she would be able to get from her husband what she wanted. Not for the first time she realized that she could bring Nellie and Daniel’s plans to a grinding halt if she wanted to. After all, she was Nellie’s mother. If she vetoed the trip to California, Nellie would have to go to college in Washington. So this evening she was going to tell Daniel that Nellie could go to California—for a price. Daniel would pay it, too. Daniel would do anything for Nellie’s happiness. Her features took on a smug look when her husband walked past her on the way to the bathroom.

  “I hope you don’t mind the sandwich and salad for dinner,” she called to Daniel’s retreating back. “Nellie didn’t want any dinner, and I didn’t feel like bothering for just the two of us.”

  “I ate a tomato and I had a big lunch,” Daniel replied as he closed the door behind him. He turned and locked the door, something he rarely did. But only here in this large tiled room could he think. It was his sanctuary of sorts after a long, grueling day at the office.

  Twenty minutes later he emerged from the bathroom, one towel around his neck and one around his waist. As he walked behind the chaise and dressed, he spoke to his wife in the even tone he’d affected over the last few years. “I’ll be going with Nellie to California. I’m not sure how long I’ll be there, and I’m sure you’ll have no objection.”

  “Oh, but I do, Daniel,” Rajean replied, smiling. “I want to talk to you about this little matter. I know I can’t stop you from going, but I’ve been thinking…Los Angeles is such a wicked city, and your friends Reuben and Bebe—well, I don’t think that’s the place I want my daughter to be. No, I think she should stay here and go to college in the city.”

  Daniel stared at his wife a moment, eyes narrowed. Then he gave a grim little smile. “How much, Rajean?”

  “Ten thousand…for now” was Rajean’s immediate response.

  “You realize, of course, that you’re selling your daughter. I adopted her legally years ago, so I have as much say in her welfare as you do.”

  Rajean’s lip curled. “I’m selling and you’re buying. Don’t they call it supply and demand or something like that?” she asked sweetly.

  Daniel regarded her with contempt. “As soon as I get back I’ll be filing for a divorce. I’ve had enough of this…existence.”

  “That will cost you, too,” Rajean replied languidly. “And remember: the courts always award custody of a minor child to the mother. So be prepared, darling.” The flutter of fear she always felt at the word divorce subsided a bit. After all, the “ex-Mrs. Bishop” didn’t sound altogether bad—provided Mr. Bishop paid and paid and paid. How much could she zap Daniel for until Nellie came of age? Probably not all that much, she mused. Well, it would have to be all that much if Daniel was serious about the divorce—and she had no reason to think he wasn’t.

  “Did you have a figure in mind?” Daniel asked conversationally.

  “A hundred thousand, this house, and my car,” Rajean responded after a moment’s thought. Her husband’s peal of laughter sent chills up her arms. “Cash! And some kind of annuity for my…advancing years,” she added, frowning as Daniel laughed again and walked out of the room.

  He was still laughing when he entered his home office. Laughing because Rajean’s demand matched exactly what he’d been prepared to give in return for his freedom and sole custody of Nellie. The detectives he’d hired would take care of the rest.

  It was then he saw the copy of the Star on his desk, neatly folded along with two bottles of his favorite beer in an ice bucket. Nellie, of course. The ice had melted, but the water was cold to the touch, with little beads of frosty water trickling down the sides of the bottle. Just the way he liked it. Sweet Nellie. He shuddered to think what would have happened to her if he hadn’t come along to marry her mother. The note he’d left in her room made him grin again, picturing her face as she read it. Nellie would appreciate his taking time off from the office to accompany her to California.

  Daniel shook the paper free of its confines. This was the moment he dreaded every day, the moment his eyes scanned the front page for news of the war in Europe. He never knew quite what it was he dreaded or expected each day when he put the paper aside after reading it from beginning to end. The war offices and news correspondents didn’t even know of Mickey Fonsard’s existence. His heart felt sore when he realized that another day was almost over and still there’d been no word concerning her safety.

  At the thought of the torment Reuben must be going through, his head began to pound. Inside of a week they’d be commiserating together. Ever since Reuben had told him he hadn’t taken Philippe to see Bebe, he’d had the uncanny feeling that Bebe knew more about Mickey than any of them. But he doubted she’d share her information with Reuben. It was a damn shame; for a while he’d thought that things would work out between his old friend and Bebe, particularly after Reuben was honored at the Academy Awards years before. Reuben had thought so, too, and said he’d tried, but Bebe wanted more than he had to give. Bebe always wanted more, expected more, just like Rajean.

  Daniel likened happiness to the commodities market. One minute you had it and the next it was gone unless you were an expert trader.

  In the world of business both he and Reuben were kings. In the world of love and happiness they were both king-size duds.

  With a sigh Daniel leaned back in his leather chair. Together he and Reuben would find a way to deal with their concern over Mickey.

  Rajean drew in her breath and let it out slowly when the door closed behind Daniel. For several moments she sat quietly trying to take deep breaths, unsure of what she was feeling—exaltation or dismay. Ten thousand dollars now and a hundred thousand for a divorce. If she sold the house, perhaps another sixty or seventy thousand. Then she could move to New York, be near Teddie.

  Her hand was on the phone to place a call when she drew it back into her lap. Long-distance calls showed up on telephone records. It was also time she stopped being so impulsive. Tomorrow would be soon enough to call Teddie. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Freedom to come and go as she pleased, free to spend money, to give gifts, free of Nellie and the responsibility of motherhood. Nellie was an independent young girl, able to take care of herself now. Besides, long-distance family relationships were best. Maybe she wouldn’t sell the house, maybe she would keep it to have a home base. In a strange kind of way she rather liked the narrow house with its crazy-shaped rooms. She also liked the atmosphere of Georgetown and the cobblestone streets.

  A small prick of fear tickled Rajean. She wished she hadn’t been so verbal about Daniel to Teddie. Why was it lovers always confided things they shouldn’t? Deep in her gut she knew now that she shouldn’t have said a thing about her husband. Teddie knew too much about her as it was, and lately…

  Suddenly Rajean jumped up from the chaise and ran to the bathroom mirror. Yes, there they were—the tiny lines around her eyes, the slight droop at the corners of her mouth. Dammit, it wasn’t fair! Men became distinguished as they got older, and women…women just aged. Cosmetics went only so far. She lifted her arm and tweaked the fleshy part with her two fingers. Sagging! God! Even her breasts were squishy now and her belly button was sinking into her stomach. Her thighs jiggled, too. Quick as a flash she hiked her skirt to her waist and whirled around, craning her neck to look at her rear end in the mirror. Drooping, too. Gravity. Who cared if a man’s ass drooped? No one. Who cared if a man’s thighs jiggled? Men had hair to cover their thighs, so it wasn’t
as noticeable anyway. No one cared. And men’s belly buttons simply weren’t worthy of thought.

  Tomorrow she’d look into plastic surgery and find out how much of a chunk it would cost.

  Rajean leaned over the sink to scrutinize her reflection. Honesty demanded she assess herself now, before she committed to the divorce. The Pan-Cake makeup hid a multitude of defects and announced others. Her skin wasn’t that good, it never had been even with the assiduous care she’d given it. Acne had left scars, and no matter how careful she was with her makeup, it settled into the little pits, often making her look grotesque. She’d tried sunbathing to tan her face and arms, but somehow the little pits speckled instead of tanning. She’d stayed indoors for a long time after that fiasco. She looked hard and she looked worn, and no amount of cosmetics and no new hairstyle was ever going to change that. What would she look like if she let her eyebrows grow back, she wondered, Scrutinizing her reflection in the mirror. She tried to imagine herself without the Pan-Cake makeup, without the artificial eyelashes and highly arched, penciled brows. Like a hag, she decided. God! She leaned as close to the mirror as possible to stare at the tiny wrinkles above her upper lip.

  Rajean dropped the lid of the toilet seat and sat down with a thump. Was this the way Teddie saw her, or was she being overly critical? Tears welled in her eyes. Of course, Teddie saw her like this; Teddie had a trained eye. It would explain so many things—the fights they had over long-distance calls, the times Teddie had refused her calls altogether. Teddie never calling her during the day when Daniel was at work. Teddie staring at Nellie’s graduation picture and practically salivating over it. Teddie liked young girls with firm flesh and silky hair. She was kidding herself if she thought the affair with Teddie was going anywhere but down the drain.

  Damn, tonight she was going to have another one of her horrendous nightmares. Two nights earlier she’d had a dilly and woke up drenched with perspiration, or at least that’s what she told herself the next morning, but by afternoon she realized what she’d had was a hot flash. The realization had been so awesome she’d fled the house and walked for hours trying not to think about the hateful word—menopause.

  Yesterday she’d flounced into her doctor’s office demanding to know all there was to know about menopause. She’d lied to the doctor and said her periods were normal and not as erratic, as they really were. The doctor had tried to console her by saying she was lucky she was late in starting, and there was medication for the hot flashes. He’d even given her a little pamphlet that she’d thought too stupid to read and tossed into the trash only to pick it out later to read. She threw a tantrum then in her room, stamping her feet and beating her clenched fists into the pillows. The three-page pamphlet had been informative, too damn informative. What she remembered now were the words dryness and estrogen. Another remembered word flashed through her mind: lubricants! “Oh, God,” she moaned.

  Rajean got up and flushed the toilet, not knowing why. She noticed that her hands were shaking. Earrings would cover the wrinkles in her earlobes. Big earrings, the button kind that was all the rage these days. Dryness. “My ass, I’ll take estrogen. If I have to, I’ll take a bath in olive oil!”

  Back on the chaise with her legs stretched in front of her, Rajean once again reached for the phone. Only Teddie had the power to drive these nasty thoughts from her mind. She could call collect so it wouldn’t show up on the telephone bill. Her hand was on the phone, her thoughts with her lover. She could feel the accelerated beat of her heart, and her throat felt dry. Her foot twitched nervously as she waited for Teddie’s voice to come over the wire. Only the voice she heard wasn’t Teddie’s—it was young and trilling with intimate laughter:

  “Rajean? No, sorry, Teddie can’t come to the phone right now.”

  In the background Rajean could hear Teddie’s husky laughter. The phone dropped from her hand onto the hardwood floor. It was a long time before she obeyed the operator’s querulous order to replace the receiver.

  “Damn you, Teddie!” she cried. “Damn you to hell!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  How warm the sun was, how comforting, Bebe thought as she strolled through the fragrant garden. This was going to be her next project. It was time the tangled vines and shrubs were fed and trimmed before the yard turned into an emerald jungle. The only problem was there weren’t enough hours in the day to do everything that had to be done. The pool alone took her an entire morning to clean. Eyes narrowed, she examined her appointment book. If she hurried home from her temple committee on Thursdays, she could work in the garden until dark.

  Bebe’s pencil flew down the week’s list of things to do. Because of extended meetings with her attorney to discuss her divorce, she was off schedule by almost two days. And she’d worked so hard these past six weeks, come so far, she couldn’t let a series of meetings throw her off course. Perhaps if she tried to get by on fewer hours sleep…Quickly she made some adjustments in her book, and when she was satisfied that her life, according to her notebook, was back on schedule, she leaned back for a half hour that was hers to relax.

  In the whole of her life she’d never felt this good, this confident. She drank thirstily from a tall glass of ice water. Quite by accident, she’d discovered that drinking water was good for the skin. Now she consumed eight to ten glasses a day, and her skin was more supple, softer to the touch.

  These days she didn’t have a single complaint about her life. Everything, including her divorce, was under control. Even her thoughts about Reuben were under control. Once she’d had the locks on the door and her telephone number changed, she’d installed a security fence around her property. Now there was no way Reuben Tarz could invade her life or her property. Then she remembered the stack of letters on the central hall table, all from Reuben and not one of them opened. It was almost a game now, avoiding Reuben.

  Bebe drained the glass of ice water and set it on the table next to a single sheet of white paper that had been taped to the front door. It was from Reuben, and the message was so blinding, she couldn’t have missed it if she’d tried. He’d used a heavy black grease pencil on the stark white paper:

  IMPERATIVE YOU CALL ME IMMEDIATELY IN REGARD TO FIRSTBORN SON.

  REUBEN

  Bebe had no intention of responding to Reuben’s summons. She wasn’t ready yet to lock horns with her husband over John Paul. Just learning that the boy was here and would want to meet her at some point had jeopardized her recovery program. Every time she thought of him, her heart ached and she could barely keep from drowning her guilt in liquor. No, better to avoid the entire issue until she was stronger….

  That night the phone began to ring—twenty, thirty rings at a time. By eleven o’clock Bebe thought she’d go out of her mind. Defiantly, she took the receiver off the hook and stuck it under the cushion of a chair.

  At twenty minutes past midnight the doorbell shrilled to life and continued to ding-a-ling for over an hour. “Go ahead, Reuben, ring it till it wears out,” Bebe muttered. “I’m not opening this door to you now or ever again!”

  At a quarter to three in the morning, fresh from her bath, Bebe marched down to the cellar, flashlight in hand. She yanked open the fuse box and twisted the quarter-size fuse. The doorbell stopped in midpeal.

  “So there!” she snarled. Gathering the hem of her robe, she stomped her way back to the second floor. If he was still there in the morning, she’d call the police.

  The clock on her nightstand read four o’clock, and she was still wide awake—so wide awake she almost jumped out of her skin when she heard the sound of a pebble hitting her bedroom window. Angrily, she stormed to the window and pushed at the screen. “Either get off my property, or I’m calling the police!” she bellowed. “Do you hear me, Reuben! I’ll have you arrested for harassment and trespassing. I mean it!” When Reuben’s harsh words filtered up to her, she grasped the window ledge, her knuckles whitening.

  “Won’t that look nice—you, me and our son plastered all over t
he front pages. Now open the goddamn door so we can talk in private. I swear, Bebe, I’ll smash every window in this house! Your son is coming to see you tomorrow. Now, open the goddamn door!”

  Trancelike, Bebe slid her feet into slippers and pulled on her dressing gown. At the front door she drew in a deep breath and held out her arms to prevent Reuben from entering. “This is the last time you’re coming into this house, Reuben. I want that understood. So say what you have to say and then get out of here!”

  Reuben shouldered his way past her, forcing her to follow him into the living room. She watched as he turned on every lamp in the room. When he was satisfied there was enough light, he turned to her and said, “Philippe is working at the studio now, Bebe. I think you should know he still hates my guts—and as far as I can tell he hasn’t forgiven you yet, either. But I don’t think this waiting game you’ve been playing with him will work anymore. I guess he wants to meet his natural mother even though he doesn’t seem to harbor much love for her. He said he was coming here tomorrow to camp on your doorstep. Now, that’s the only reason I’m here. Are you going to see him when he comes?” Reuben asked coldly.

  What was there for her to say? She’d never actually thought that a confrontation would be forced on her. Slowly she sank onto a chair and buried her head in her hands. Bebe reached out as the world slid away from her and she toppled to the floor. Reuben was at her side instantly, gathering her into his arms. He was stunned at how tiny and thin she was underneath the robe she wore. Thin, but not skinny. Actually, she was hard as a rock, he thought, massaging her arms. He saw the blunt-cut nails and felt the calluses on the palms of her hands. He noticed her hair then, short and curling around her face, giving her a gamin look. He noticed the streaks of gray around the temples. He frowned as her skin looked soft underneath the cold cream. Brown as a nut. He knew she was healthy and happy. The thought disturbed him. He tried to remember the last time he’d seen her, actually paid attention to her. Months before, which didn’t say much for him.