Passion's Promise

by Danielle Steel

  “I see. I didn’t realize you were still that involved in this … this problem. I thought that after …”

  She cut him off, with a look of extreme aggravation.

  “You thought wrong. And just so you don’t die of the shock if you see it in the papers, I’m going back out there shortly.”

  “What in God’s name for?” He was speaking to her sotto voce so no one would hear, but Kezia was speaking in her normal voice.

  “To visit him, obviously. And I told you, I don’t want to discuss it. And do you know something, Edward? I’m finding this entire subject inappropriate with you, and this lunch unbearably boring. As a matter of fact, darling, I think I’ve about had it.” Her voice was rising to an unpleasant timbre, and Edward could feel himself squirm inside the starch in his collar. He was hating every minute of it. She drained her glass, looked around the room for a minute, and then looked back at him strangely.

  “Kezia, are you all right? You looked rather pale for a moment.” He looked terribly worried.

  “No, really, I’m fine.”

  “Shall I have them get you a cab?”

  “Yes, maybe I ought to go. To tell you the truth, it’s a hell of a strain. That bitch from Women’s Wear has been watching us since we sat down, and all of a sudden I feel like the whole goddamn place is watching me to see what kind of shape I’m in. It’s all I can do not to stand up and tell them all to go fuck themselves.”

  Edward blanched. “No, Kezia. I don’t think you ought to do that.”

  “Oh hell, darling, why not? For a laugh?”

  She was playing with him again, and so cruelly. Why? Why did she have to do that to him? Didn’t she know that he cared? That it tore him apart to see her this way … that he was not made merely of white shirts and dark suits … that someone lived inside the elegant tailoring, a heart … a body … a man. Tears burned his eyes and there was a gruffness in his voice as he quietly stood and took Kezia’s arm. He looked different now, and she sensed it too. The games were over.

  “Kezia, you’re leaving now.” She could hardly hear his words, but she could have read his tone from across the room. She was being dismissed like a naughty child.

  “Are you very angry?” She whispered it to him as he helped her into her mink. She was frightened now. She had only wanted to play … wanted to … hurt. They both knew it.

  “No. Only very sorry. For you.” He guided her toward the door, keeping a firm grip on her elbow. She was going to have no chance to misbehave between the table and the door. The fun was over. And she felt oddly submissive at his side. He cast a few frosty smiles left and right as they made their way out. He didn’t want anyone to think there was trouble, and Kezia looked dreadful.

  They stood for a moment at the cloakroom while he waited for the girl to retrieve his coat and homburg.

  “Edward, I …” She had started to cry now and held tightly to his arm.

  “Kezia, not here.” Enough was enough. He couldn’t bear it anymore.

  She swept the tears away with one hand gloved in black suede, and tried out a wintry smile.

  “Where are you going from here? Home to lie down, I hope.” And get hold of yourself. He didn’t say it, but it was in his eyes, as he settled the homburg into place.

  “Actually, I was going to show up at the Arthritis Ball meeting today. But I don’t know if I’m up to it.”

  “I don’t think you are.”

  “Yes. But I haven’t been there in so long.” And now there’s Tiffany’s place to fill as the local socialite lush…. Motherfucking old bags. Oh God, what if she said … what if … what if…. She felt a rush of heat follow the wave of pale green and wondered if she was going to faint or throw up. That would make a story for WWD.

  Edward took charge of her elbow again and led her out to the street. The cold air seemed to restore her. She took a deep breath and felt better.

  “Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch you do this to yourself? And for … for …” Her eyes sought his but he couldn’t stop himself anymore. “For nothing. For that … that no one. Kezia, for God’s sake, stop now. Write to him, tell him you don’t want to see him again. Tell him….”

  Her words stopped him cold. “Are you telling me this is a choice?” She stood still, watching him.

  “What do you mean?” He felt ice trickle slowly down his back.

  “You know exactly what I mean. Is this a choice, Edward? Your friendship or his love?”

  No, little girl, my love or his. But he couldn’t say that to her.

  “Because if that’s what you’re saying … then I’m saying goodbye.” She held out her arm before he could answer and stopped a cab that was passing. It came to a screeching halt just beyond the canopy.

  “No, Kezia, I …”

  “See you soon, darling.” She pecked at his cheek before he could regain his composure and slipped quickly into the cab. Before he knew it she was gone. Gone. “… then I’m saying goodbye.” How could she? And so heartlessly, without any emotion in her eyes.

  But what he didn’t know was that she couldn’t give up Luke. Not for anyone. Not even for him. Luke was her route to escape from the world that had haunted her. Luke had shown her the way out; now she had to stick with him. She couldn’t turn back. Not even for Edward. And alone in the cab, she wanted to die. She had done it. She had killed him. Killed Edward. It was like killing her father … like killing Tiffany again. Why did someone always have to get mutilated, Kezia wondered as she drove uptown, fighting back sobs. And why Edward? Why him? He only had her, and she knew it. But maybe it had to be. She couldn’t leave Luke, and if it was a question of loyalty … Edward could take it. He was so sturdy. He would always weather what had to be borne. He was good about those things. He understood.

  Kezia did not know that he would spend the rest of the day walking, looking into faces, looking at women, and thinking of her.

  The cab drew up outside the Fifth Avenue address Kezia had given. She was right on time for the meeting. The committee would be beginning to gather. She thought of their faces as she paid the driver the fare…. All those faces … and mink coats … and sapphires … and emeralds … and … she felt a wave of panic sweep over her. The lunch with Edward had left her drained, and she didn’t feel able to cope. She paused for a moment before going inside the building. And then she knew. She couldn’t go in. The prying eyes at La Grenouille had been bad enough. But at least they had to keep their distance. The women on the committee didn’t, and they’d be all over her in an instant, with snide questions and sneering asides. And of course they had all seen the newspaper photographs of her collapsing in court, and read every word of the story. It was simply too much to handle.

  The snow crunched beneath her feet as she walked to the corner to hail another cab and go home. She wanted to flee. She had unthinkingly walked back into the insanity of her life before Luke. And even for a day it unnerved her. From cab to cab, from luncheon to meeting to nowhere to nothing to drink to drank to drunk. She wondered what in God’s name she was doing.

  It was snowing and she was hatless and without boots, but she pulled the mink coat tightly around her and sank her gloved hands into her pockets. It was only a twelve-block walk to her house, and she needed the air.

  She trudged all the way home, her suede shoes soaking wet on her feet, her hair damp, and when she got home her cheeks were aflame and her legs felt icy and numb, but she felt alive and sober again. She had pulled her hair from its knot and let it fall around her shoulders, gathering a mantilla of snow.

  The doorman rushed to her side with his half-broken umbrella as he saw her loom from the snow and darkness, and she laughed as he approached.

  “No, no, Thomas. I’m fine!” She felt like a child again, and the sodden shoes didn’t matter at all. It was the sort of performance that would have won her days of scolding as a child. Totie might even have reported her to Edward for something like that. But Totie was a thing of the past now, as was
Edward. She had seen that today. She could walk in the snow all night now if she wanted. It didn’t really matter. Nothing did. Except Luke.

  But at least the buzzing sound had left her head, her shoulders didn’t feel quite so heavy, her spirit felt clean. Even the drinks had been washed away by the cold and the snow.

  The doorbell rang just as she peeled off her stockings and stuck her cold feet under the hot water tap in the tub. They tingled and hurt and turned red. She debated answering the door, and decided rapidly not to. It was obviously just the elevator man with a package; had it been a visitor they would have called from downstairs for permission to send someone up. But the bell was persistent, and finally she dried her feet in one of the big monogrammed towels, and ran to the door.

  “Yes? Who is it?”

  “Cesar Chavez.”

  “Who?”

  “It’s Alejandro, you dummy.”

  She pulled open the door. “Good lord, you look like Frosty the Snowman. Did you walk?”

  “All the way.” He looked terribly pleased with himself. “I think I love New York after all. When it snows anyway. Isn’t it great?”

  She nodded with a broad smile of agreement. “Come on in.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. They rang from downstairs for ages, but you didn’t answer. The guy said you were home, and I must have looked honest or cold, because he let me come up.”

  “I had the water running in the tub.” She looked down at her bare feet which were now almost purple from the return of circulation after the shock of the tub. “I walked home too. It felt great.”

  “What happened? Couldn’t find a cab?”

  “Nope. I just felt like walking. It was sort of a crazy day, and I needed to unwind.”

  “What happened?” He looked faintly worried.

  “Nothing much. I had one of those unbearably fancy lunches with Edward, and it was a hell of a strain. Between his dismal failure at not looking disapproving, and the stares of the rest of the people there, not to mention a Women’s Wear reporter creeping up on us … I got a bad case of the freaks. And then to make matters worse, I took myself off to a benefit meeting, and flaked out before I walked in the door. That’s when I decided to walk home.”

  “Sounds like you needed it.”

  “Yeah. I just can’t play the old games anymore. I can’t even begin to tackle the double life nonsense again, and I won’t do it. That life just doesn’t suit me. I’d rather be here by myself.”

  “Are you telling me to leave?”

  “Don’t be a jerk.”

  He chuckled, and she took his sopping wet coat, and hung it on the kitchen door.

  “I must admit, that whole trip sounds pretty bad.”

  “Worse … but dahling, how divine you look, isn’t that the wet look by Cardin … oh, and your ring!” She picked up the hand where he had a large rough Indian turquoise. “But the ring is David Webb of course … his nnneeewwww collection, daaahhhling? Ah, and of course sneakers by Macy’s. What an exquisite idea!” She made a face and rolled her eyes. “I mean, Jesus, Alejandro, how can anyone breathe under all that shit?”

  “Wear a snorkel?”

  “You’re impossible. I’m being serious.”

  “Forgive me.” He settled down on the couch after having dumped his sneakers with his coat in the kitchen. “Hell, you used to live that life fairly successfully, didn’t you?”

  “Sure. As long as I was sneaking around on subways to meet my lover in SoHo, or flying off to meet Luke in Chicago. Besides, I had to do all that dumb shit for the column.”

  “Bullshit. You didn’t just ‘have to,’ you wanted to, or you wouldn’t have done it.”

  “That’s not necessarily true. But in any case, I don’t want to do it anymore, and I won’t. Besides, everyone knows I won’t play the game now, so why try to pretend? But the point is what do I do now? I don’t fit there, and Luke’s not here, which leaves me feeling … aimless, I guess is the best way to put it. Any suggestions?”

  “Yeah. Make me a cup of hot chocolate. Then I’ll solve all your problems.”

  “That’s a deal. Want some brandy in it?”

  “Nope. I’ll take it straight thanks.” He didn’t want to give her an excuse to start drinking. She didn’t need much of an excuse, but he thought she might balk at drinking alone. He was right.

  “You’re not much fun, but in that case I’ll have mine straight too. I think I’ve been drinking too much lately.”

  “No kidding. When did you figure that out? After A.A. called you with a free subscription, or before?”

  “Don’t be nasty.”

  “What do you want me to do? Keep my mouth shut till you wind up with cirrhosis?” “That sounds fine.”

  “Jesus, Kezia, that’s not even funny. You really piss me off!” And he looked it as she vanished into the kitchen.

  She appeared a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. “And how was your day?”

  “Stinking, thanks. I had a minor altercation with my board of directors. At least they thought it was minor. I almost quit.”

  “You did? How comer?”

  “The usual garbage. Allotment of funds. I got so annoyed I told them I was taking two days off.”

  “That must have pleased them. What are you going to do with the two days?”

  “Fly out to San Francisco with you to see Luke. When are you going?”

  “Good lord, Alejandro! Can you do that?” She was delighted, but he had just spent so much money coming out with them to the hearing.

  “Sure I can do it. But not in first-class. Are you willing to sit with the peasants at the back of the bus?”

  “I think I can stand it. Do you play backgammon? I can bring my small set.”

  “How about poker?”

  “You’re on. To tell you the truth, I’m glad you’re coming.

  … I was thinking about it this morning, and I think I’m scared to death of this trip.”

  “Why?” That surprised him.

  “San Quentin. It sounds so awful. And I’ve never been any place like it.”

  “It’s not exactly a joy ride, but it’s not a dungeon either. You’ll be okay.” But just to be sure, he was going. Luke had urgently requested that he come out with her. And Alejandro knew he wouldn’t ask unless there was a damn good reason. Something was happening.

  “Listen, are you coming out just because you figured I was afraid to do it alone?” The idea amazed her.

  “Don’t be so egocentric. He happens to be my friend too.” She blushed faintly and he tugged at a lock of the rumpled black hair. “Besides, after what I’ve seen you come through, I have the feeling that if they were firing M-16’s over your head, you’d just tighten your earrings, put on your gloves, and march right on in.”

  “Am I as bad as all that?”

  “Not bad, baby—impressive. Goddamn impressive. And by the way, while we’re out there I want to interview for a job at a therapeutic community I mentioned to you once.”

  “You’re serious about looking for a new job?” So much was changing.

  “I don’t know yet. But it’s worth looking into.”

  “Well, whatever your reasons, I’m glad we’re going out there together. And Luke will be so pleased to see you. What a super surprise for him!”

  “When are we going?”

  “When can you get away from the center?”

  “Pretty much any time I want.”

  “How about tomorrow night? I got a letter from Luke this morning that said I’ll be cleared in two days. So tomorrow night would be just right, for me anyway. How about you?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  They settled back with their hot chocolate, and snuggled into the couch, telling old stories and talking about Luke. She laughed again as she hadn’t in weeks, and at midnight she lured him into almost an hour of dice.

  “You know what I can’t handle anymore?”

  “Yeah, dice. Lady, you play lousy.”
But she loved it, and he was having a good time too.

  “No, shut up. I’m being serious.”

  “Excuse me.”

  “Really, I am. The thing that I can’t handle is the pressure of pretense, and that whole way of life I grew up with is pretense to me now. I can’t talk openly about Luke without creating a scandal. I can’t show anyone that I hurt. I can’t even be me. I have to be The Honorable Kezia Saint Martin.”

  “Maybe that’s because you happen to be the Honorable Kezia Saint Martin. Ever think of that?” He rolled the dice in his hands.

  “Yes, but I’m not ‘that’ Kezia Saint Martin. Not anymore. I’m me. And I keep worrying, thinking I’m going to blurt it all out or call someone an asshole, or throw a quiche Lorraine in somebody’s face.”

  “Sounds like fun. Why not try it?” She roared with laughter as they sat in front of the fire, her legs tucked under her.

  “Someday I might just try it. But that, my friend, would be the ultimate grand finale. Can’t you see it in Time magazine? ‘Kezia Saint Martin flipped out at a party on Friday and threw a lemon meringue pie that sprayed five guests. The victims of Miss Saint Martin’s temporary insanity were the Countess von …’ et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.”

  “Do they serve lemon meringue pies at those parties?” He looked faintly curious.

  “No. I guess I’d have to settle for baked Alaska.”

  He chuckled at the thought, and reached out and stroked her now dry hair. It was warm from the fire.

  “Kezia, love, you’ve got to gain back some weight.”

  “Yeah. I know.” They shared a small tender smile, and then with a gleam in his eyes, he rolled the dice in his hands, blew on them and threw, closing both eyes.

  “Snake eyes, or bust!”

  Kezia chuckled at the results, pinched his nose, and whispered in his ear, “In that case, Mr. Vidal, it’s bust. Hey, you asshole, open your eyes.” But instead he reached out unexpectedly and swept an arm around her waist. “What are you doing, you nut?” His face was barely a breath away from hers, and she thought it was funny. It wasn’t funny to him.