Sapphire and Shadow (A Woman's Life)

by Marie Ferrarella

  “I don’t know what to say, Tommy. Thank you seems so inadequate.”

  “Then don’t say it.”

  She raised her eyes to his and he thought that he would never see blue eyes again and not think of hers.

  “But you’ve done so much, I don’t know how to repay you.”

  “I’ve already told you how, luv. Let me share the museum with you.”

  “All right.” A giddy feeling began to build within her as soon as she consented.

  It wasn’t a date, she told herself again. It was just going to be an afternoon in the company of a friend. A very good friend. Nothing more.

  If it was nothing more, why did her palms suddenly feel damp?

  He smiled into her eyes and quickened the muscles in her stomach. “When?”

  She looked over her shoulder to Jocelyn’s bedroom. Johanna wasn’t free to make decisions just for herself. “Call me.”

  “I will.”

  As Johanna closed the door, she had no doubts that he would.

  Her contented mood sustained her as she walked into Megan’s room. The girl was asleep, laying fully clothed on top of her bedspread. From the looks of it, she had had a very busy night. Johanna shook her none too gently by her shoulder.

  “What?” Megan jerked up, angry words at the disturbance on her tongue. When she saw Johanna standing over her, the words faded. “Oh, I must have fallen asleep.”

  “So it looks.” Johanna did not return her smile. “Get packed, Megan. You’re leaving.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re not going anywhere.” Johanna opened the girl’s closet and took out her suitcase. She tossed it on the bed next to her. Megan jumped back, then held her head. Her brain throbbed and her mouth felt like cotton. Old cotton.

  “You are. You’re fired.”

  “Fired?” she mumbled as if she didn’t comprehend the word.

  “Fired. Completely and utterly. You should have been weeks ago. I was just too soft-hearted or too stupid to do it then.”

  “But I—“ The expression that registered on Megan’s face was panic.

  “In case you’re interested, the straw that broke the camel’s back was walking out and leaving a sick child alone in a hotel room while you went out and partied the night away.”

  Megan tried to brazen it out. It had worked before. “I knew you’d be back.”

  “How wise of you.” Turning on her heel, Johanna grabbed an arm load of clothes out of the closet and tossed them into the opened suitcase. “Now, if you want these in any kind of order, you’d better see to it yourself.”

  Megan stared down at the jumble of clothes. “I haven’t got any money to fly home.”

  “I’ll give it to you. It’ll be more than worth it just to see you go.” With that, Johanna walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  She felt a lot like humming.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jocelyn, for her part, was morose. “What are we going to do here, the two of us?” she wanted to know, flouncing down next to her mother on the sofa. Megan had been gone for less than a week and jocelyn was already bored beyond words, anticipating more of the same.

  When had she lost touch with her daughter, Johanna wondered. It wasn’t all that long ago that they had been able to enjoy one another’s company on a steady basis.

  “Have fun,” Johanna said brightly.

  Without consciously realizing it, Jocelyn made a face at her words.

  The twinge of hurt Johanna felt was quickly pushed aside. This was no time to be self-centered. “Oh, I don’t know, there was a time when you thought you were having fun with me.”

  “There was a time when I used to think Sesame Street was heavy entertainment, too.”

  “I see.”

  Jocelyn looked contrite at the quiet sound of pain in her mother’s voice. “I didn’t mean that,” she mumbled into her chin.

  Well, that was a start. The attempted apology heartened Johanna. “Probably more than you know, but that’s all right.” Johanna put an arm around Jocelyn’s shoulder and hugged the girl to her. “I think this is the age when you’re supposed to think parents are dull.”

  “I am?” There was a measure of relief in Jocelyn’s voice. It wasn’t that she thought her mother was dull, exactly. Just not any fun.

  “Absolutely. It’s a phase, which is what child psychiatrists call everything they can’t cure. I think you get through it when you turn twenty.” Johanna raised a brow as she pretended to scrutinize Jocelyn. “Or is it thirty?” Jocelyn laughed. “Well, I guess I can’t be that dull. I just made you laugh. How would you feel about taking in a movie?”

  Jocelyn moved the edge of the newspaper that was spread out on the carpet. She had just been pouring over it. “Nothing to go see.”

  “What a shame.” Johanna sighed dramatically. “All those theaters all over London and none of them playing anything. Such a waste.”

  “Mother,” Jocelyn said impatiently.

  “Daughter,” Johanna mimicked.

  Jocelyn got up and moved restlessly around. “You know what I mean. The movies are all dull.” She began to fiddle with the curtain at the window, running the cord through her fingers as she stared out.

  She looked trapped, Johanna thought. She had never felt that way when she had been twelve. At twelve, she had thought the world a wonderful place with endless possibilities. Twelve was still the time for illusions, for hope, for eagerness. How could she pass those feelings on to Jocelyn when they seemed so distant from her own life these days?

  “Getting to be a rather dull world, isn’t it?” Johanna stooped to pick up the newspaper and folded it. “And you’re only twelve.” She dropped the newspaper on the coffee table. Jocelyn was just going to have to learn to enjoy the little things in life. It was, she firmly believed, what made everything worthwhile. “Would you like to take a stroll through Hyde Park?”

  “A stroll?”

  She came up behind Jocelyn and put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “Moving feet rhythmically in front of each other. Sometimes known as walking. You do remember walking, don’t you? It was invented just before the Mercedes.”

  Jocelyn turned and looked at her mother suspiciously. “What’s at Hyde Park?”

  Johanna shrugged, adjusting the shoulder of Jocelyn’s oversized tee-shirt that had slipped. Rick Renfield looked up at her from the front with a lop-sided smile. “History. Green grass. Maybe a radical speech or two. That’s where people go to sound off.”

  Mechanically, Jocelyn tugged the tee-shirt off her shoulder again. “You mean there’s a special place that they have to go?”

  Johanna grinned. When she was Jocelyn’s age, no one could get her to wear her hair away from her face. Every generation had something, she guessed. She left Jocelyn’s tee-shirt as it was.

  “No, they can sound off anywhere, it’s just that at Hyde Park other people are expected to pay attention. At least for a little while.” She picked up her purse and moved to the door. “C’mon, it could be fun.”

  Jocelyn looked as if she had her doubts about that, but relented.

  “Okay. I guess it’s better than hanging around here.”

  “Spoken like a true adventurer.” Johanna linked her arm through Jocelyn’s.

  Just as she put her hand on the doorknob, someone knocked.

  “Damn,” she muttered.

  With Jocelyn’s eyes on her, Johanna hesitated in opening the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone and it was much too soon for Harry to be returning. Besides, he wouldn’t have knocked. If he had lost his key, he would have shouted for her to open the door. Or pounded at the very least. Patience had ceased being Harry’s long suit years ago.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?” Jocelyn finally asked, confused.

  “I guess I have no choice.” She really didn’t want to see anyone. She just wanted to spend time with Jocelyn. If it was Arlene, it might be some time before they could make their escape alone.
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  It wasn’t Arlene.

  The man in the doorway was dressed in worn jeans that adhered to him like a comfortable second skin and a blue turtle neck shirt that showed off the fact that he was a physical laborer. In his wide, calloused hand he held a bouquet of white daisies.

  “Tommy.” Johanna felt flustered for a moment. And pleased.

  Jocelyn crowded in at the door, eager to see, eager to be seen. “Who are the flowers for?”

  “Both of you,” Tommy replied easily. He presented the flowers to Jocelyn, although he looked at Johanna. “Mind if I come in?”

  Johanna took a step back and gestured into the suite. “No, of course not.”

  Jocelyn stood twirling the bouquet in her hands slowly. “We were about to go out,” she told Tommy matter-of-factly. But she was pleased that he had included her when he had given the flowers.

  “To Hyde Park,” Johanna added quickly. She told herself that she was being foolish for feeling so uncommonly flustered about Tommy’s sudden appearance. He was probably just here to check on Jocelyn’s health.

  She knew she was grasping at straws. She also didn’t know why she felt a need to do so.

  A strange sort of excitement, slow and deliberate, telegraphed itself through her body.

  “Hyde Park,” Tommy repeated. “Haven’t been there in a while. Mind if I join you?”

  “How could I turn down Ivanhoe in his own native land?” Johanna laughed.

  “Who’s Ivanhoe?” asked Jocelyn.

  Johanna filled a glass with water from the bathroom and tucked the daisies into it. “A knight who rescued ladies,” she called out.

  “Fair ladies,” Tommy corrected. “There was a code to abide by.”

  Johanna crossed to the coffee table holding the impromptu vase. She could feel Tommy’s eyes washing over her, saying things that couldn’t be said aloud.

  “I see. I take that as a lovely compliment.” Johanna set down the glass filled with daisies.

  Flirting. My God, she was flirting. She hadn’t done that in years.

  Jocelyn was taking this in as gospel. “You mean he couldn’t save anyone unless they were pretty?” She frowned. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

  Tommy laughed and Johanna thought how free, how easy laughter seemed to come to him. He shut the door behind them, then took Jocelyn by the arm as he linked his other free one with Johanna. “All damsels in distress are pretty.”

  Jocelyn shook her head while savoring the fact that Tommy was escorting her out just the same way he did her mother. “Now I’m really confused.”

  “You’ll understand when you get older,” Johanna promised her.

  Her daughter hated that line, but because Tommy was here, the young girl smiled while she protested. “That’s what you always say.”

  Johanna pressed for the elevator, feeling very lighthearted. She grinned at Jocelyn, but took care not to ruffle her hair. “That’s because it’s true.”

  They went together to Hyde Park where they heard someone espousing animal rights and another man who swore that Parliament was being taken over by aliens, the kind with antennae.

  Jocelyn enjoyed herself immensely. “Hey, why haven’t we come here before?”

  Johanna exchanged looks with Tommy. Being here with him made a difference. Being in London with him made a difference. Suddenly, the country was bright and friendly and each gloomy sky held the promise of forthcoming sunshine. She no longer felt dejected and depressed about England or herself. “Why indeed?”

  After hearing their fourth spontaneous speech, this one on the ills of the monarchy, Tommy insisted on buying them lunch. Johanna carefully dissuaded him from taking them to the hotel’s restaurant. The Chelsea was known for its gourmet food and gourmet prices. Prices, she felt sure, Tommy could not afford.

  Instead, they had a light lunch at a near-by outdoor cafe.

  “Oh gross, what’s that?” Jocelyn accused as she jabbed her finger at a line on the menu.

  “You can read, Jocelyn. This isn’t a foreign restaurant,” Johanna murmured, looking to see what had made her daughter turn a shade of green. “Oh, kidney pie.” Well, maybe Jocelyn was entitled to be a little green, Johanna reconsidered.

  Jocelyn shuddered as Tommy grinned, but said nothing. “And that?”

  Johanna leaned over and read. “Rob Roy’s Pleasure.” She looked at Tommy questioningly.

  “Venison,” he told her. “With chestnut puree. It’s a favorite.”

  “Venison?” Jocelyn’s eyes opened wide. “Like in deer? Like in Bambi?”

  “She’ll pass on Rob Roy,” Johanna commented, scanning the menu. “This looks good.” She chose another item, one that was lower priced.

  “Don’t they have any hamburgers around here?” Jocelyn moaned, dropping the menu on the table.

  “My daughter, the cultural gourmet,” Johanna laughed.

  “I’ll see what we can do,” Tommy promised her.

  The hamburger that Jocelyn craved was not done to her satisfaction, but then, Johanna assured Tommy, her daughter didn’t like it unless it had been prepared three hours earlier and had sat under a sun lamp, waiting to be bought. “That’s the way they handle fast foods back in America,” Johanna explained.

  Tommy frowned slightly, considering her description. “Doesn’t sound very tasty.”

  “I know, but the worse it is, the better kids claim it tastes.”

  Tommy shrugged with a grin, one that Johanna found terribly endearing. “Well, to each his own.”

  “Exactly,” Johanna agreed.

  She tried to sound nonchalant, but Johanna had a definite feeling that they were skirting around something more here, like two primal animals doing a ritualistic mating dance.

  Mating?

  Johanna cut right through the steak on her plate and a slice slid onto her dress.

  “A little water’ll get it out,” Tommy assured her, dabbing his own napkin in his glass. With firm, sure strokes, he rubbed on the material. Johanna felt heat climbing up her limbs to the center of her being as his hand touched her through the layers of material.

  His eyes met hers and held for a moment. Her own darted nervously toward Jocelyn, but the girl was busy watching a teenage boy on a bicycle who was in turn eyeing her as he rode by slowly.

  “Thank you.” Johanna took the napkin from him, her fingers trembling. She wiped the rest off herself.

  My God, what was she thinking of? It had be more than nine months since Harry had touched her, since he had even tried to make love and that had ended disastrously. He had blamed her, saying that he had no trouble performing with anyone else.

  Her fault, always her fault.

  But her lack of fulfillment didn’t explain the reason for her feeling this restless, edgy way around Tommy. She had never been one who needed sex. Sex was something to be coupled with love, with feeling needed and cherished. It wasn’t just an exercise to be completed if the “vibrations” were right.

  Her throat was suddenly dry. Johanna took a sip of her coke.

  “What are you thinking about?” Tommy asked.

  She nearly choked. “Why?”

  “You look pensive.”

  “Just wondering about the future.”

  He smiled at her as if he knew what she was thinking, she thought nervously, then told herself to calm down and act like an adult. Perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps she was.

  Tommy Reed was basically an uncomplicated man. He knew what he liked and what he didn’t like. Life was too short for pretenses, although not too short for social amenities. He liked Johanna and had absolutely no doubts that he and she would come together as lovers as long as she could free herself of her inhibitions. He had no intentions of seducing her, because seduction wasn’t fair. A mutual coming together was the only way to approach the very pleasurable sensation of making love. He too did not believe in sex. He believed in sharing and pleasure and kindness. And he liked Johanna very, very much and admired her as well.

  �
��Johanna, sweetie, is that you?”

  Johanna turned to look directly into Arlene’s amused dark eyes. “Hello, Arlene.”

  Arlene presented herself in front of the threesome. She made no secret of the fact that she was appraising Tommy. And giving him very high marks. Tommy smiled back at her, which pleased her.

  “Well, well, well, I see you’ve done very nicely for yourself.”

  Johanna drew her lips together. She didn’t care for Arlene’s inference. “This is Tommy Reed. He used to work for Harry.”

  Arlene tried to imagine what he would look like without his shirt. “A lot of people used to work for Harry.”

  Something in Arlene’s tone alerted Johanna. “What do you mean?”

  The older woman struggled to draw her eyes away from Tommy, but finally succeeded. “Haven’t you heard?”

  “Heard what?” Johanna pressed. She was in no mood for much of Arlene’s unintentional unkindness.

  “Harry’s on page three of the newspaper if you’d like to see what he’s been up to.”

  “Not in front of Jocelyn,” Johanna hissed.

  “Mother, I’m not a baby.” The young girl stuck out her chin. But at the same time, there was a tremor in her lower lip. “You and dad aren’t going to split, are you, Mom?”

  She would have to tell her daughter soon enough. But not now. “Not over an article in a rag, no,” Johanna said.

  Her precocious daughter seemed to relax, letting the topic go. Johanna saw Tommy studying her over the rim of his glass. They had spoken of her getting a divorce and she knew that he felt she should be honest with Jocelyn. Her answer had been vague and evasive, but she couldn’t deal with the pain that she would be inflicting on Jocelyn or the recriminations she knew she would receive from her. Right now, she was having trouble dealing with her own strong attraction to Tommy.

  “I’ll see you later, Arlene,” she said quietly.

  Arlene took no offense at Johanna’s dismissal. Her eyes slid over Tommy slowly one last time. “My compliments, Johanna.” She patted Johanna’s shoulder. “Better than any one of my fantasies.” She laughed at her own words as she walked away.