Heart and Soul

by Liza Gyllenhaal

  In the afternoon, with Miranda at her office and Heather out visiting friends, Cassie found herself wandering through the downstairs feeling aimless and bored. What was the point of Miranda dragging her up to New York for the weekend if she was too busy to spend any time with her? Cassie wondered as she sat down in one of the window seats looking out over the elegant side street. Lord, but this fabulous house was filled with such unhappiness! Cassie reflected. She could almost feel it drifting through the handsome, high-ceilinged rooms: a heavy fog of misunderstanding and recrimination. It was clear to Cassie that something was wrong with Miranda and Jason’s marriage. Was that why Cassie had been asked up for the weekend? Had Miranda hoped to confide in her, to seek advice? If so, it seemed to Cassie that Miranda had changed her mind. Courteous yet distant, Miranda treated her like some business subordinate, someone she had to pretend to like for appearance’ sake.

  Then there was Heather. Well, Cassie told herself, trying to be fair, when a marriage is on the rocks supposedly the first people to get hurt are the children. Heather was a bright kid. She no doubt had picked up on her parents’ hostilities toward one another. Perhaps her awful behavior was just some playing out of fears based on the adults’ problems.

  “Where is everyone?”

  “Jason! I didn’t hear you come in.” Cassie shook her head, trying to hide the fact that he had the power to make her blush. “Miranda had some work at the office. Heather’s at a friend’s place.”

  “And they left you here alone.”

  “I was just…” Cassie stood up to face him. He had a battered leather jacket slung over his shoulder. “Actually … yes, they did.”

  “What you must think of us,” he said, shrugging on the jacket. “I’m afraid you decided to visit at a rather bad time. A shame you couldn’t make it at Christmas, but that can’t be helped now. I was about to go out myself. I need a drive. You’re welcome to come if you like.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised Cassie that Jason had a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. Nothing he did or said was anything like what Cassie had expected. Not that he said anything as he buckled her helmet and nodded for her to climb on after he’d revved the motor. They spun out onto the street with a roar, the wind whipping at Cassie’s hair.

  She didn’t pay much attention to where they were going … she just knew they were going there fast. Jason snaked his way impatiently through idling traffic, shot past changing lights, accelerated onto a highway ramp, and then really put on speed. He seemed wholly intent on what he was doing, and Cassie, her arms circling his waist, felt the power of that concentration pumping through layers of fabric and leather. He felt tense and strong and yet distant. Cassie sensed this ride was some private ritual—a way of working out aggression and anger—and that she had been invited along simply out of pity. It should have bothered her, but it didn’t. It should have bothered her even more that she found holding on to him, tightening her arms and legs around him, so dangerously exciting. But she told herself it was a harmless fantasy. No one but she would ever know how thrilled she was to accidentally touch the cold surface of his belt buckle, or to breathe in the pungent smell of his leather jacket. No one need know. And, besides, the next day she would be gone.

  Dinner was a less tense and slightly livelier affair. Heather, exhausted no doubt from a full day of misbehaving, sat quietly—her eyelids occasionally drooping—across the table from Cassie. Miranda and Jason faced each other at either end of the long linen-covered dining-room table. Even though it was just the four of them, the multicourse dinner was formally served by the cook and a pretty, young maid Cassie hadn’t seen before. She still couldn’t figure out how many servants Miranda employed; the faces seemed to change as rapidly as the moods of the two employers. For that night, at least, their moods were on an upswing.

  “Mrs. Fitzgibbon has asked us for lunch next Sunday,” Miranda announced, smiling at Jason through a forest of burning candelabras.

  “Is that right? Well, congratulations. You’ve finally won, then. We should have some champagne.”

  “Oh, you’re so vulgar, Jason. You make it sound as if I came in first in a livestock contest.”

  “How different is it really?” Jason asked. “Most people old Fitzie favors come with strong bloodlines and top-drawer breeding pedigrees. You’re one of the dark horses, you know, Miranda. Someone who wins the race on guts and stamina alone.”

  “Should I take that as a compliment?”

  “Take it any way you like,” Jason told her. He turned to Cassie. “Fitzie is the doyenne I pointed out to you last night. The keeper of the gate?”

  “Yes, the one in blue sequins,” Cassie said.

  “I hope you haven’t been paying any attention to the pure vitriol Jason directs at my friends,” Miranda told Cassie. “I’m afraid my husband is antisocial.”

  “No,” Jason answered, “just antisocialite. There is a difference. I tend to like people for who they are, not whom they know. I suppose we should raise a glass to Magnus for his contribution to your success.”

  “Yes, I suppose we should,” Miranda replied after a moment’s hesitation. Cassie felt the chill in her sister’s voice. “I’m sure he thinks he deserves all the credit.”

  Jason stared down the table at his wife. “Don’t tell me you’ve actually discovered a dent in his glamorous armor.”

  “Several, actually,” Miranda replied, meeting Jason’s gaze with a small smile. “We’ll talk about it later.”

  Was there something a little sinister in the look Miranda gave her husband, or was Cassie just imagining it? Or, to be honest with herself, was she hoping that what seemed to be a warming trend between them was really just that—an appearance? With a sudden sense of shame, Cassie realized that she had been happier with the situation when Miranda and Jason seemed less happy with each other. She knew why, and she felt the shame dig deeper. “Thou shalt not covet,” were among the first words Cassie had put to memory. And yet, from the earliest moment she could remember, she had coveted everything about Miranda. And now this gnawing jealousy—this ugly claw of need—was reaching out and clutching at Jason.

  Much later that night, Cassie woke up suddenly. She didn’t know what had roused her until she heard the voices. Vicious and accusing, they ricocheted down the hall.

  “How dare you…”

  “What else are you hiding? I wonder.”

  “Why are you doing this? The girl meant nothing to me. Why do you want to ruin me?”

  At that moment Cassie’s door opened, light from the corridor slanted in across the room, and a small crouching figure ran toward her bed. Heather, her face slick with tears, shivered beside Cassie’s pillow.

  “Climb in here, honey,” Cassie said, drawing back the sheets.

  “I hate this,” Heather whimpered, her face burrowing into Cassie’s pillow. “I hate this.”

  “I know,” Cassie said, smoothing back her niece’s fine soft hair.

  “I don’t hate you,” Heather mumbled.

  “I know that, too,” Cassie said as she rocked her weeping charge to sleep in her arms.

  Five

  “Where’s everyone?” Cassie asked nervously as she faced her sister the next morning.

  “Heather left for school, of course. Jason’s at his office. It’s just as well. I’ve been wanting to talk to you alone.” Miranda was waiting in the sun parlor, breakfast things laid out around her with all the thought and precision of chess pieces arranged across a board. Dressed for the office in a pale green gabardine Armani suit, Miranda looked impeccable. It was impossible for Cassie to square this haughtily beautiful woman with the screeching harridan of the night before.

  “So have I.” Cassie felt her hand shake as she poured out coffee and cream.

  “Why don’t you go first, then,” Miranda suggested as she squeezed a lemon wedge into her tea. “Have you had a good time? Jason and I are a little—argumentative—sometimes. I hope you don’t ta
ke that too seriously. It’s just our way.”

  “Your way seems to be hurting your daughter to an extent that I would take seriously if I were you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Last night Heather came into my room, crying.”

  “Really? She probably had a nightmare. Odd she came to you.”

  “That’s because you and Jason were too busy screaming at each other.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Cassie,” Miranda replied. “We had a little fight. Every married couple does. It airs things out is all. You’ll discover that soon enough when you and—Kenneth, right?—get married. What are your plans? I’d really like to be a part of them if I can. I mean, help you with the wedding. And I think you should have a big ceremony. I regret I didn’t now.”

  “Why didn’t you, Miranda?” Cassie asked. It was obvious that Miranda was determined to deflect any further discussion of the previous night’s uproar. But Cassie was equally determined to lead them back to it. “Was that just another one of those little things you and Jason disagreed about?”

  “Lord, you are ruthless this morning, Cass. Okay, I give in. Jason and I had a whale of a fight last night. We’ve been going through a rough patch, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. It’s mostly my fault. I’m just too busy for his taste. But I love my job and I love going out. And I don’t feel like changing. He’s such a homebody. I know he comes across as this sort of dashing, mysterious type—still waters running deep, and that sort of thing. Actually he’s very straightforward. Honest, upright.”

  “You’re making him sound almost boring.”

  “We’ve been married eight years, Cass. I’m successful. And sought after. I like to stretch my wings. Perhaps I’m just growing a little faster than he is.”

  “Or perhaps he doesn’t like what you’re growing into.”

  Miranda put her teacup down abruptly and folded her hands in her lap. She looked down at her beautifully manicured nails for a moment, then back up at Cassie. “I’m not blind, Cass. I see that Jason’s worked his magic on you. He does that to women without even knowing it. He’s like one of those magicians who hypnotize people in the audience without realizing it. I can’t tell you how many women—friends of mine—he’s unintentionally smitten. I’m just hurt you automatically take his side. I didn’t mean to get into all this now. But I can assure you that there’s a lot going on here you know nothing about.”

  Cassie knew she was blushing furiously and could do nothing to stop it. There was no point in denying what Miranda said; obviously she, Cassie, had made a fool of herself over Jason. Had he noticed it as well? she wondered. She felt silly and dull. All the fight went out of her. Once again, she was nothing more than Miranda Darin’s little sister.

  “Oh, stop looking so abashed,” Miranda teased. “What’s wrong with taking a shine to someone? I’m sure Jason was flattered. You know, you’ve turned out to be a very attractive woman.”

  There were all sorts of implications in Miranda’s words that Cassie struggled to process quickly: Jason knew—how horrible! And Miranda seemed genuinely surprised that Cassie had “turned out” as well as she had. That meant she must have had a fairly low opinion of Cassie before. It also indicated that Cassie had passed some sort of test in Miranda’s mind.

  “I’m glad you approve,” Cassie replied stiffly. Then she heard herself at last saying what she had felt for so long: “You know, it hasn’t exactly been easy following in your huge footsteps. It’s like trying to fill the tracks of some enormous dinosaur.”

  Miranda laughed. “You make me sound so horrible, Cass. Sometimes I think you hate me … I wouldn’t be surprised. Lord knows I’ve been the most inconsistent sister in the world. I hope I can start to change that now. I want to play a bigger role in your life. I really loved having you here. I want you to feel welcome—anytime, all the time.”

  There was something so patently false about Miranda’s speech that Cassie sat in shocked silence for a moment, trying to think of some way to react to her sister’s insincerity. Miranda had barely seen Cassie over the weekend—so how could she pretend to have loved having her there? How in the world was she supposed to feel welcome when her two hosts spent most of her time there tearing each other apart?

  Before Cassie could frame a plausible response, Miranda added, “Actually, Cass, I want you to stay.”

  “Stay? Here?”

  “Yes. The most terrific job has come up at the network, something that’s just so right for you. It’s a newswriting slot. I talked it over with Magnus yesterday afternoon, and he agrees you’d be perfect for it.”

  “But he doesn’t even know me. How in the world can he—”

  “I told him all about you, of course,” Miranda cut in. “He’s very impressed with what I said. He’s actually rearranged his schedule to meet with you this afternoon to talk it over.”

  “The head of the network wants to talk to me,” Cassie repeated slowly, “about some lowly newswriter position. Miranda, I’m no fool. You talked him into this, didn’t you?”

  “Well, my word does carry some weight there, Cass. But I also know you’d be terrific at the job. It’s such an opportunity for you. It’s the kind of position I started out in.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Miranda, but I’m not interested. I’ve already got a job, in case you haven’t noticed. I’m a GA now, you know, not some little inexperienced starter. Besides, I’ve no interest in television. I’m a newspaper reporter.”

  “You’ve just never considered it,” Miranda said. “You never thought you’d get the chance. It would be so exciting to have you here … in the city … with all of us.”

  “It’s just not what I want.”

  “But think about it for a second,” Miranda continued persuasively. “Wouldn’t it be fun to live up here? Think of what a great time we could have. We’ve a million spare bedrooms. You wouldn’t even have to look for a place of your own.”

  “And what about my life in Raleigh, Miranda?” Cassie asked. “What about my job? My friends? Kenneth? It’s … just impossible.” And yet, even as Cassie said it, she knew how incredibly easy it would be for her to cut herself loose. Start fresh. All those things that she had assured Miranda were impossible for her to give up actually held her very tenuously. In another moment or two, with a bit more encouragement from Miranda, she might have allowed herself to consider the move. It was seductive. New York. The Magnus network. Even in the few short days of her visit, she’d picked up on the intensified rhythms of city life. Her blood ran quicker here, she knew. Her complexion was more vibrant, a little flushed. She’d felt more attractive, more interesting than she ever had in Raleigh—especially in Jason’s presence.

  “Damn it, Cass, you know what’s wrong with you?” Miranda broke into her thoughts. “You’re afraid to succeed. Afraid to take risks. You’d rather stay in some backwater town doing safe local coverage than take a chance on a real challenge. You’re afraid to take the leap … because you’re afraid to fail.”

  “Lord, but you know all about me, don’t you?” Cassie said hotly. “What right have you to dictate what’s important and what’s not? I hate to tell you, but Breaking News is not the be-all and end-all of electronic journalism. If anything, it’s oversensationalized and overformatted. When was the last time you had a truly spontaneous segment, Miranda? You know what’s wrong with it? You’re just too much in control. You have to manipulate everything, Miranda—Heather, Jason, and now even me. Well, count me out.”

  “I won’t, Cass,” Miranda said simply. “I want you to reconsider all this. Not right now. It’s obviously not the right time. I’ll cover things with Magnus. But I beg you to think about it this afternoon on the plane. Tonight when you’re alone in your apartment. I’m offering you a whole new life … new friends … amazing possibilities.”

  “Why, Miranda?” Cassie asked, realizing at last that this was the question she should have asked at t
he beginning. “We’ve just barely been on speaking terms for years. Why would you suddenly want to start helping me now?”

  “Maybe you’ve got it all backward,” Miranda said sadly, rising to go. “I’m already a half hour late for a production meeting. Have a safe trip home. Call me when you’re ready.” Then she was gone. Without a kiss. Without so much as a touch on the shoulder.

  It took Cassie nearly a week before she could think back calmly enough on her conversation with Miranda to wonder what her older sister had meant about Cassie getting “it all backward.” It seemed an odd response after Cassie’s impassioned outburst. It was the sort of oblique and curious statement that Miranda didn’t traffic in. Her manner was usually so direct and clear. And the tone of voice had been off as well, Cassie reflected. She’d sounded almost defeated.

  Nothing had gone right since Cassie’s return to Raleigh. For one thing, it had rained steadily the entire week, causing a drainage pipe above her living room to burst. A big wet stain the shape—and it seemed to Cassie almost the size—of Texas covered the ceiling. The wall-to-wall carpeting had been ruined by the flood, the plush pile fabric a soggy mess that squelched every time Cassie walked on it. The floor below was probably a disaster as well, though Cassie wouldn’t know until the carpet removers came, and they were apparently backed up two weeks.