The rest was all about the book. She tore the letter in half and threw it into the fire.
Aunt Beth quizzed her about the letter later, after Astrid had gone to bed. There was a kind of conspiracy between them now that excluded even Astrid.
“Oh, he says that he loves me and the book is going well, all in the same breath.” She tried to sound blithe and only succeeded in sounding a trifle less bitter.
“Aha! So you’re jealous of his work!” Aunt Beth’s eyes sparkled. Now she saw something she had not seen before, not clearly, anyway. It was all coming into focus.
“I am not jealous of his work. How ridiculous!”
“I quite agree. But why do you begrudge him his writing? What would happen, Jessica, if you no longer had to support him? You’d have no control over him then, would you? What if he actually did get successful? Then what would you do?”
“I’d be delighted for him.” But it didn’t sound convincing, even to Jessica.
“Would you? Do you think you could handle it? Or are you much too jealous even to try?”
“How absurd.” She didn’t like the sound of Beth’s theory.
“Yes, it is absurd. But I don’t think you know that yet, Jessica. The fact is that he either loves you or he doesn’t. If he doesn’t you couldn’t keep him. And if he does, you probably can’t lose him. And if you insist on supporting him forever, my dear, he’ll wind up finding someone he can support, who lets him feel like a man. Someone who might even give him children. Mark my words.”
Jessica fell silent and they went up to bed. But Aunt Beth’s words had hit home. Ian had said the same thing to her himself, in his own way. In Carmel, he had told her that things would have to change. Well, they were going to. But not the way Ian had in mind.
Chapter 27
“Good morning, Aunt Beth … Astrid.” There was a look of determination on Jessica’s face as she sat down to breakfast with them. That expression was new to her friends.
“Good heavens, child, what are you doing up at this hour?” She had rarely risen before ten since she’d been on the ranch, and Aunt Beth was surprised.
“Well.” She looked carefully at Astrid, knowing how disappointed she would be. “I want to enjoy my last day. I’ve decided to go home with you tonight, Astrid.” Her friend’s face fell at the words.
“Oh no, Jessie! Why?”
“Because I have things to do in town, and I’ve been lazy for long enough, love. Besides, if I don’t go back now, I probably never will.” She tried to make her tone light as she helped herself to some cinnamon toast, but she knew that the words were a blow to Astrid. And she felt bad about leaving the ranch too. Only Aunt Beth looked unruffled by the news.
“Did you tell Mother before you told me, Jessie?” Astrid had noticed the look on her mother’s face.
“She did not.” Aunt Beth was quick to answer. “But I felt it coming last night. And Jessica, I think you’re probably right to go back now. Don’t look like that, Astrid, it will give you wrinkles. What did you think? That she’d never go back to her own shop? Don’t be foolish. Are either of you going to ride with me this morning?” She buttered her toast matter-of-factly, and Astrid cleared the frown from her brow the way a child smoothes messages out of the sand. Her mother was right about Jessie going back, of course. But she had enjoyed Lady J even more than she had thought she would.
Jessie had been watching her face and now looked almost remorseful. “I’m really sorry, love. I hate to do it to you.” The two younger women fell silent and Aunt Beth shook her head.
“How tedious you both are. I’m going riding. You’re quite welcome to mope here. One feeling ridiculously guilty, the other feeling childishly deprived, and both of you making fools of yourselves. I’m surprised either of you has time for such nonsense.” Jessica and Astrid laughed then, and decided to ride with their more sensible elder.
It was a pleasant ride and an enjoyable day, and Jessie left Aunt Beth with regret. She vowed to come back as soon as she could, and struggled for the words to tell her how much the two weeks had meant.
“They restored me.”
“You restored yourself. Now don’t waste it by going back to the city and doing something foolish.”
So she knew. It was astonishing. There was nothing you could hide from her.
“I won’t approve if you do something stupid, child. And I’m not at all sure I like the look in your eye.”
“Now, Mother.” Astrid saw Jessie’s discomfort, and Bethanie did not pursue the matter after the interruption. She simply gave them a bag of apples, a tin of homemade cookies, and some sandwiches.
“That ought to keep you two well fed till you get home.” Her expression softened again and she put a gentle arm around Jessica’s waist. “Come back soon. I shall miss you, you know.” There was a soft hug about the waist, a warmth in the eyes, and Jessica bent her head to kiss her on the cheek.
“I’ll be back soon.”
“Good. And Astrid, dear, drive safely.”
She waved at them from the doorway, until the sleek black Jaguar had turned a corner and sped out of sight.
“You know, I really hate to leave here. The last two weeks have been the best I’ve had in years.”
“I always feel like that when I leave.”
“How come you don’t just move down here, Astrid? I would if she were my mother, and it’s such beautiful country.” Jessie settled back in her seat for the long drive, musing over the two precious weeks, and the last few moments of conversation with Aunt Beth.
“Good Lord, Jessica, I’d die of boredom down here. Wouldn’t you, after a while?”
Jessica shook her head slowly, a small, thoughtful frown between her eyes. “No, I don’t think I’d be bored. I never even thought of that.”
“Well, I have. In spite of my mother. There’s nothing to do here except ride, read, take walks. I still need the insanity of the city.”
“I don’t. I almost hate to go back.”
“Then you should’ve stayed.” For the tiniest moment, the spoiled child was back in Astrid’s voice.
“I couldn’t stay, Astrid. I have to get back. But I feel like a rat taking the shop back, if you can call it that. You really gave me the most marvelous vacation.” Astrid smiled back at Jessie’s words.
“Don’t feel bad. The two weeks were a lovely gift.” Astrid sighed gently and followed the serene country road. The sun had just set over the hills, and there was a smell of flowers in the air. In a distant field they could see horses in the twilight.
Jessie took a long look around the now familiar countryside, and sank back in her seat with a small private smile. She’d be back. She had to come back. She was leaving a piece of her soul here, and a new friend.
“You know something, Mrs. Bonner?”
Astrid grinned in response. “What, Mrs. Clarke?”
“I adore your mother.”
“So do I.” The two women smiled, and Astrid stole a glance at Jessie. “Was she good to you? Or did she give you a hard time? She can be very tough, and I was a little bit afraid she’d indulge herself with you. Did she?”
“Not really. Honest, but not tough. And never mean. Just straightforward. Sometimes painfully so. But she was generally right. And she made me think a lot. She saved my life. Hell, I’m not even a junkie anymore!” Jessica laughed and bit into one of the apples. “Want an apple?”
“No, thanks. And I’m glad it worked out. How did Ian sound in the letter I brought you, by the way? I meant to ask, and I forgot.” Jessica’s face set at the question, but Astrid had her eyes on the road and didn’t see.
“That’s why I’m going back.”
“Something wrong?” Astrid stole a quick look at Jessica.
“No. He’s fine.” But her voice was strangely cold.
“You’re going back to see him, Jessie?” Astrid was a trifle confused.
“No. To see Martin.”
“Martin? Ian’s lawyer? Then something is
wrong!”
“No, not … not like that.” And then she turned her face away and watched the hills drift past the window. “I’m going back to get a divorce.”
“You’re what?” She slowed down the car and turned to face Jessie, stunned. “Jessica, no! You don’t want that! Do you?”
Jessica nodded, holding the apple core in her trembling hand. “Yes. I do.” They did not speak for the next hundred miles. Astrid couldn’t think of anything to say.
Martin was free to see her when Jessie called him the next morning. She went right down to his office and was shown down the painfully familiar corridor. It seemed that she was never there for anything except the high points of drama in her life.
As usual, he was sitting at his desk with his glasses pushed up on his head and the standard frown on his face. She hadn’t seen him since December.
“Well, Jessica, how have you been?” He looked her over as he stood up and held out his hand. It still gave her a sinking feeling to see him. In his own way, he was as painful a reminder to her as Inspector Houghton was. He was part of an era. But the era was finally coming to a close.
“I’ve been fine, thank you.”
“You look very well.” So much so it surprised him. “Have a seat. And tell me, what brings you here? I had a letter from Ian last week. He sounds like he’s weathering it.” A flash of something passed through Martin’s eyes. Regret? Sorrow? Guilt? Or maybe Jessie only wished it. Why hadn’t he been able to keep Ian free? Why hadn’t he talked him into an appeal and then won? If he had, she wouldn’t be in his office now. Or maybe she would.
“Yes, I think he’s surviving.”
“He mentioned that he thinks he might be selling his book. Said he was waiting to hear more from his agent.”
“Oh.” That was news. “I hope he does sell it. That would do a lot for him.” Especially now. But that was all Ian wanted anyway. Another book, and this time a big one, a hot seller. He wouldn’t need her if he had a book. Wouldn’t even miss her.
“So? You still haven’t told me what brings you here.” The amenities were now officially over. Jessica took a small breath and looked him in the eyes.
“What brings me here, Martin, is a divorce.” But nothing registered on his face.
“A divorce?”
“Yes. I want to divorce Ian.” Something inside her trembled at the words, turned over and gasped, and tried to clutch at the old familiar branch. But she wouldn’t let it. It didn’t matter if she fell into a bottomless pit now; she had to do this. And she knew now that she would survive the bottomless pit. She had already been there.
“Jessica, are you tired of waiting for him? Or is there someone else?” The questions seemed indiscreet, but perhaps he had to know.
“No. Neither, really. Well, maybe a little tired of waiting. But only because I don’t think we’ll have a marriage left when he gets out. So what is there to wait for?”
“Did you have a marriage before?” He had always wondered, had never been quite sure. It had looked as if they had a strong bond and a firm commitment, but you never knew from the outside.
Jessica nodded at his question, and then looked away, her hands clenched in her lap.
“I thought we had a marriage. But … I told myself a lot of fairy tales then.”
“Such as?” She wondered why they had to get into all of this now.
“Such as I thought we were happy. That was a lie, among other lies. Ian was never really happy with me. Too many things got in the way. My shop, his work, other things. He’d never have gone off with that woman if he’d been happy.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t at first. But now I begin to see what I didn’t give him. Self-respect, for starters. And my time … my faith, maybe. I mean real faith that he could make a big success of another book.”
“You didn’t respect him?”
“I’m not absolutely sure. I needed him, but I don’t know if I respected him. And I never wanted him to know how much I needed him. I always wanted him to think he was the one who needed me. Pretty, isn’t it?”
“No. But it’s not unusual either. So why the divorce? Why not just clean up the picture and stick to what you’ve got? It’s still better than most, and you’re lucky—you see the mistakes; most don’t. Does Ian see it as clearly as you do?”
“I have no idea.”
“You haven’t spoken to him about this?” He looked shocked as she shook her head. “He doesn’t know you want a divorce?” She shook her head again and then looked up at him squarely.
“No, he doesn’t. And … Martin, this is just the way I want it. It’s too late to ‘clean up the picture.’ I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I know this is the right way. We have no children, and, well … this is as good a time as any.”
He nodded, chewing on the stem of his glasses.
“I can understand your thinking, Jessica, and you’re a young woman. It may prove to be quite a burden to be married to a man who was sent to prison for rape. Maybe you should be free now to start another life.”
“I think so.” But why did it feel like such a betrayal of Ian? Such a rotten thing to do … but she had to. Had to. She wanted this for herself. She had decided. But she kept hearing Aunt Beth’s words, just before she’d left the ranch the night before: “I won’t approve if you do something stupid.” But this wasn’t stupid. It was right. But what was Ian going to say? … And why should she care now? Except that she did. She did, dammit.
“Would it affect your decision in any way if he sold this new book, Jessica?” She thought about it for a moment and then shook her head.
“No, it wouldn’t. Because nothing would change. He’d come home, bitter about the time he’s spent in prison, and even more bitter against me, because I’d just be supporting him all over again eventually, and nothing would have changed. Book advances don’t last long, unless the book is a success.”
“You don’t think he’s capable of writing a success?” The tone of Martin’s voice filled her with shame, and she lowered her eyes again.
“I didn’t mean that. And that’s not the point anyway. Everything would still be the same. I’d still have the shop, the bank account … no, Martin. This is what I want. I’m absolutely sure.”
“Well, Jessica, you’re old enough to make your own decisions. When are you going to tell Ian?”
“I thought I’d write to him tonight. And”—she hesitated, but she had to ask him—“I was hoping you’d go up to see him.”
“To break the news?” Martin looked very tired as he asked. She nodded slowly. “Frankly, Jessica, I don’t normally handle domestic affairs. Marital law, as you know, is not my specialty.” And this was going to be a mess. But Ian was his client. And his client’s wife was sitting opposite him, looking at him as though it were his fault that she was getting the divorce, as though he had cost her her marriage. And why the hell did he always feel guilty if things didn’t work out just right?
“Oh well, I suppose I could handle this for you. Will it be a complicated sort of affair?”
“No. Terribly simple. The shop is mine. The house belongs to both of us, and I’ll sell it if he wants, and put his share of the money in an account for him. That’s all there is. I get custody of the plants, and he gets his file cabinets in his studio. End of a marriage.” The only thing she had left out was the furniture, and neither of them cared, except for the few pieces that were her parents’, which were obviously hers. So simple. So miserably simple after seven years.
“You make it sound very quick and easy.” But he was dubious, and sad for them both.
“Maybe quick, but no, not very easy. Will you go up and see him soon?”
“By the end of the week. Will you be going up to see him yourself?” She shook her head carefully. She had seen Ian for the last time … on that godawful day when he had gotten up and walked away and she had watched him from behind a window, holding a dead phone in her hands. H
er eyes filled with tears at the memory, and Martin Schwartz looked away. He hated this kind of thing. It seemed so wasteful.
Jessica looked up at Martin, holding back the tears. Her voice was barely a whisper. “No, Martin, I won’t see him anymore.”
He told her that she would be divorced in six months. In September. A year after he had been arrested, a year after the end of their marriage had begun.
There was a letter from Ian waiting when she stopped by the house for her mail on her way to the boutique. It was only a brief note. And a poem. She read it with wide, sad eyes, and then tore it carefully in half and threw it away. But it had stuck in her mind somehow. Like a satin thorn. It was the last letter from Ian she opened. The poem decided her.
You are the explosive celebration
of my sunbursts
every morning,
You are the whisper
in my late
late nights,
You are the symphony in my sunsets,
You are the splendor and the glory
of the dawning
of my life.
The dawning of his life was past, with her, at least. But she felt as though she had single-handedly killed the sunrise. Canceled it. Sent it away. Made it cry. Broken something sacred. Him, and herself, and the thing that was both of them. The thing she now believed had never been at all. But she knew she had to do what she was doing.
Chapter 28
The boutique was in beautiful shape. There were new displays all over the main room, and the window looked like a vision of spring. Astrid had done it herself. And the pastels and creams and delicate shades Jessie had bought in New York more than six months before looked good on display. There were two new plants in her office, with bright yellow flowers in full bloom, and there was a neat, crisp air to the shop that she had almost forgotten. She had been gone for only two weeks, but Lady J had been reborn, just as she had been. It looked the way it had when Jessie had first opened it, in the days when she’s been madly in love with it and had put her heart and soul into its birth. Now it showed the signs of Astrid’s fresh enthusiasm and love. She hadn’t changed anything radically, she had just pulled it together. Even Katsuko and Zina looked happier.
Now and Forever Page 30
