Praise Her, Praise Diana

by Anne Rothman-Hicks

  Judith raised the megaphone to her lips.

  “Wake up women!” she called. “Wake up to degradation and exploitation!”

  Smalley turned to her, the lines around his eyes revealing the effort he was making to moderate his voice.

  “Unless you have a permit for that device, you will have to put it away.”

  “Fuck you, Pig!” Judith said.

  Smalley gestured at two of the police officers who started toward them, removing handcuffs from their belts.

  “No!” Jane cried. “Wait!” She walked up to Judith and took her hand, speaking with a quiet sense of urgency. “Please, Judith. You can have your say but not right here.”

  Judith hesitated, and then without a word she turned on her heel and walked across the street. The others followed, carrying the table and chairs and helping Sheila while the police blocked traffic for them. As they set up on the opposite sidewalk, the back door of the detective’s sedan opened and Ari emerged. She was dressed beautifully in a saffron colored chiffon dress that swirled around her in the breeze like orange fire licking at her legs. A pure white linen shawl with intricate off-white embroidery covered her shoulders. Her hair was up, kept in place by fasteners with sparkling stones. Diamond earrings hung from her ears.

  A slight smile played on her lips as she walked up to Detective Smalley, who stood near the entrance to the gallery. She was enjoying the obvious surprise on the faces of Ellen, Jane, Maggie and Susan. She slipped her arm in Smalley’s. He seemed to stiffen somewhat at the gesture, but she ignored his reaction.

  “The detective promised to be my date tonight,” she said. “Isn’t that nice of him?”

  The juxtaposition of this supremely elegant woman with the Detective caused everyone to remain speechless for a moment. Smalley’s face betrayed nothing, as usual, although Glaser was subduing a grin.

  Ellen threw her arms around Ari and hugged her. “You’re so wonderful. I don’t know what to say. Wonderful and beautiful.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ari replied, the same mysterious smile on her lips. “Let’s go upstairs and welcome your guests.”

  Across the street, Judith whispered to the young women who had gathered around her, leaving Sheila to sit alone at the table.

  “Tonight was not our night to fight them,” she said. “We have too much to do first. But our time will come. Believe me, it will come.”

  * * * *

  Upstairs, the gallery soon filled with arriving guests. The majority were women, many of whom had decided to leave their men behind and find a female friend to join them for the occasion. All professions were represented, from artists to heads of charities and partners from large law firms. Ellen was obviously elated by the turnout as she mingled with the guests. Her husband was less voluble as he also made his way through the crowd.

  Ellen stopped briefly to whisper to Jane.

  “Look at him! He wants me to fail, but I won’t! I think I will call you for a meeting next week, and this time I won’t cancel.”

  Along the rear wall was a table set up with buckets of ice, sodas and chilled wine. Platters of cheese and crackers and bowls of chips and dips were placed around the room, but the bar quickly became a favorite spot. There was only one large air-conditioner in the front windows overlooking the street, and despite its huge size it was not nearly adequate with the high temperatures and humidity and so many mingling bodies. Still, no one seemed to care enough about the heat to leave. The few men present took off their suit coats and loosened their ties. The women put their hair up, if it hadn’t been when they arrived, and shed unnecessary jackets and scarves, unfastening buttons and lowering zippers whenever possible. Only Ari seemed entirely unaffected by the heat as she escorted Smalley from photograph to photograph. The detective dabbed occasionally at his forehead with a handkerchief, although he kept his jacket on to conceal the gun holster he wore over his left shoulder. He listened to Ari’s talk about the art, but all the while his eyes surveyed the room.

  David arrived in a dark blue turtleneck and a summery beige and blue-striped suit, apparently having been prevailed upon by Heather to dress up for the night. He quickly removed his jacket and pushed up his sleeves, but sweat was evident on his face and under his arms as he and Heather worked their way through the room taking pictures of the various persons attending and of the photographs, particularly the one provided by Diana. They were engrossed in their task but for David’s occasional glance in Jane’s direction.

  Jane and Maggie stood behind the refreshment table with other WPW volunteers to hand out soda and wine to newcomers and refill empty glasses. Several women told Maggie that they had read Getting There and praised her new book. One or two asked her for an autograph. A small group had gathered as Jane saw David approaching.

  She looked for an excuse to get away and found it when she spotted Maureen O’Reilly standing by herself at the front windows, and made her way through the crowd to say hello. Maureen seemed as happy as anyone to be at the exhibit and was taking in the scene with an expression of obvious excitement on her face. She had had the good sense to wear a short-sleeved, dark purple dress, although it was buttoned up to her neck. A white sweater was draped over one arm. From time to time, she glanced outside where the sun had set. The low-flying clouds had made the streets dark and forbidding, except for the area illuminated by the overhead lamps. Judith could be seen across the street in one such halo, along with two of the young women who were dressed in the down jackets. The wind swirled around them.

  Jane greeted Maureen and kissed her on the cheek.

  “I’m so glad you came,” Jane said.

  “Thank you,” Maureen replied. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

  “You must be a contributor to WPW,” Jane said.

  “I’ve been giving a few dollars for years,” Maureen said. “Since your mother started WPW. It was your mother, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “I never met her,” Maureen said. “She sent me a very nice note that first time, and I’ve given ever since. But this is the first time I’ve come to one of the exhibits.” She hesitated. “I just had to come once I heard that Diana might be here. I so want to see her again.”

  Jane was momentarily taken aback by the remark.

  “I’d forgotten that you saw her,” Jane said. “Have ... have you seen her tonight?”

  Maureen smiled somewhat shyly, and hunched her shoulders forward.

  “I haven’t put my glasses on yet,” she said, giggling. “I don’t need them to see the photos, and they make me look so old. Plus, I’m a little afraid that if I see Diana, I will stare. And I wouldn’t want to do that or anything else that would identify her.” She leaned forward to whisper in Jane’s ear. “I heard there might be police here.”

  Jane took Maureen’s two hands in hers.

  “You are very sweet and very thoughtful,” Jane said.

  “And you are just a sweet dear for saying so,” Maureen replied.

  * * * *

  David collected a drink and returned to Heather, his jacket tied around his shoulders like a cape. Jane went back to help Maggie with the refreshments. She noticed a woman who had apparently just come up the stairs to join the exhibit’s guests. She stood out in a tight-fitting tank top, a pair of very short shorts and black sneakers. A dark-haired beauty, she had a model’s tall, willowy figure and long, perfect legs. She might have just wandered in off the street on a lark, except that after surveying the crowd, she crossed the room directly to David.

  When she addressed him, he appeared to be surprised and not in a pleasant way. His face tensed and they argued briefly, but loudly enough so those nearest turned to look, before she herself turned abruptly and walked toward Jane with the same fluid model’s stride. She held the gaze of man and woman alike as she crossed the room.

  With an elegant sweep of her arm, she extended her hand to Jane. The fingers were beautifully formed and newly manicured
.

  “My name is Francesca,” she said, pronouncing it with an Italian flourish. “I am the friend of Germaine.”

  She paused for a moment. Her dark flawless eyebrows arched slightly as she waited for Jane to make the connection to the woman mentioned by David—the one he had claimed to hire as a model. A sense of unease began to filter through Jane.

  “Nice to meet you,” Jane said. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “To the contrary,” she said in a very clear voice, somewhat louder than a conversational level. “I am here to assist you. Last night I received a call from a woman who identified herself as Diana, the protector of all women.”

  Up to this point, guests had been milling about the table, waiting for glasses of soda or ice water or wine, and chatting to Maggie or to each other. At the mention of the name Diana, those nearest to her stopped. Francesca seemed pleased by the reaction she caused. Her naturally high cheekbones became even more prominent and her face lovelier with her smile. She turned a bit toward the center of the room.

  “That’s right,” she said, loud enough now for everyone to hear. “I heard last evening from Diana. She asked me to come here tonight and prevent an injustice.”

  Jane glanced toward David almost involuntarily. He handed his camera to Heather and came through the crowd. His features were tight with alarm.

  “Don’t listen to this woman, Jane,” he said. “I’ve never seen her before tonight. I swear.”

  “David, my dear, you hurt me deeply,” Francesca said sarcastically. “We spent such a pleasant two days together in Jane’s bed. Surely you don’t forget.”

  A collective murmuring arose from those closest, spreading through the rest of those present like a wave.

  “It’s a lie!” David repeated.

  The woman ignored him. With great dignity, she turned to Jane.

  “Diana herself telephoned Germaine, who had agreed to lie for David, but Diana, shall we say, ‘persuaded’ Germaine not to help him. Germaine knew I had been with David and gave Diana my name. I didn’t have to be persuaded to come here tonight.”

  Francesca’s words and their mesmerizing effect on the crowd had attracted the attention of Ellen who came over to her. Smalley watched closely from his vantage point across the room, although he made eye contact with someone else, evidently a plainclothes officer.

  “If there is a dispute of some kind, please take it outside,” Ellen said. “Both of you. David, would you please leave first?”

  “Hold on a minute,” David said. “Tell her to go. I’m working here. She’s just trying to make trouble.”

  Outside, the clouds finally opened and a dense curtain of rain seemed to fall at once in a downpour that caused puddles to form instantly on the sidewalks and streets. The windows rattled with the force of a thousand drops flung against them by the gusting winds. Lightning could be seen outside the windows, followed closely by the crack and rumble of thunder. The lights flickered, and then came back on to a sigh of relief from the crowd.

  “This is a place sacred to women tonight,” Francesca said. “I will not leave.”

  Seeking shelter, Judith and Sheila and the two young women in the down coats all gathered in the vestibule at the bottom of the stairs. Judith could hear the woman’s clear voice and started up the stairs.

  David glanced at Ellen and then at Jane.

  “You can’t be listening to this. I tell you this is a fraud. She’s a liar.”

  Maureen took out her glasses and put them on.

  “Why don’t you leave, David,” Francesca said. “While you still can.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he asked angrily.

  Lightning flashed and thunder exploded again, closer still. Once again the lights seemed to flicker and the air conditioner to hesitate with a loss of power.

  “Diana is here tonight and will have her revenge,” Francesca said.

  “You’re out of your mind!” David shouted. “Jane, she’s lying!”

  Jane looked away with disgust.

  “Maybe you should just go, David,” Ellen said. “It’s for the best.”

  “Yeah, get out of here!” a voice called from the top of the stairs. Soon it was joined by many other women’s voices.

  “Get out! Get him out!”

  “He’s an exploiter of women!” Francesca shouted. “Diana wills it!”

  Suddenly, a new round of lightning illuminated the room and thunder sounded immediately outside, rattling the windows and causing several women to scream with fright. Then the lights went out and the air conditioner stopped.

  The room was completely still but for the rush of wind and rain against the window.

  “Diana!” Maureen called. “Diana is here! God bless you, Diana!”

  Chaos erupted. Judith’s raucous voice was clearly heard now in the general tumult.

  “Get him! Don’t let him out!”

  Smalley raised his badge above his head and added his voice to the increasing pandemonium.

  “Police! Stay away from that man.”

  In the darkness, someone tried to wrestle away his gun. He pulled it back.

  “Police,” he called again. “Remain calm!”

  New screams filled the room as guests tried to get to the exit. David was caught in a crush of women reaching toward him with their outstretched hands. Some scratched or slapped at him. Others grabbed his coat and ripped it away.

  “Stop them!” he screamed in a voice that Jane barely recognized as she herself was pushed toward the door.

  The darkness was broken by the lightning through the window and the rhythmic flashes of David’s camera, which Heather set on automatic and held up high, snapping picture after picture.

  “Stop them!” David screamed again. “Oh my God, I’m stabbed!”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Are you feeling any better?” Maggie asked.

  They were driving north on the Taconic Parkway and soon they would exit and start upon the succession of roads, increasingly narrow, hilly, curved and rutted, until they reached Maggie’s long dirt driveway. As soon as they had set out, Maggie had turned off the radio and the silence had been a balm. The only light inside the car came from the instrument panel’s faint glow, which made Jane’s moist cheeks glisten as she turned to Maggie and smiled slightly.

  “I’m okay,” Jane said. “Just a little dazed, that’s all. And tired. Really tired.”

  It was late and there were few other cars on the highway. The headlights were like a personal aura or the tail of a comet, always just ahead of the speeding vehicle. Jane focused on the solid white at the edge of the pavement to her right and the broken line to her left as black pavement sped beneath the car.

  “Why don’t you sleep?” Maggie asked. “It’ll be another 45 minutes before we get there.”

  Jane shook her head.

  “I don’t think I can right now,” she said.

  “Are you worried about David?”

  “No!” Jane replied quickly, with an unintended sharpness to her voice. After a moment, she reached over and put her hand on top of Maggie’s and squeezed it, asking wordlessly for something—she wasn’t quite sure what—not forgiveness, perhaps understanding.

  She knew David would be fine. An ambulance had arrived within minutes and EMS workers had soon determined that the knife wound in his side was not life threatening, although he would be hospitalized overnight. Heather stayed with him until he was loaded into the back of the ambulance, and then at his direction she had headed for The Portal’s offices with the camera.

  Jane was sure that Heather hadn’t lied to her earlier that day. She probably hadn’t really been interested in David at that point. And yet Jane was equally sure from watching them tonight that they were a couple now, even if they weren’t quite aware of it themselves. She envied them the connection, that growing sense of belonging.

  * * * *

  Jane and Maggie had exited the gallery along with everyone else, u
rged on by Detective Smalley and the other officers. Once calm had been restored, Maggie had gone back into the gallery to see if Ellen needed help cleaning up. Jane had stayed across the street and watched blankly as the remnants of the crowd dispersed and the Eumenides and Judith Frazier loaded their van. As that group was about to leave, Judith walked over to Jane and hugged her, pausing with her hands on Jane’s arms for a moment, peering into Jane’s face in the strange way she had, as though searching for some unknown truth.

  Jane had remembered what Glaser said about Judith’s childhood and tried to imagine what it must have been like, but she was unable to get past the image of a man stealing up to her bed at night and the sense of helplessness, betrayal, and shame. How much of the hardness on Judith’s face would not be there today if she had never suffered that abuse? What might love do for her even now?

  “You were on the wrong side tonight,” Judith said. “But Diana loves you.” She hesitated, bobbing her head solemnly. “And so do I.”

  Then she got in the driver’s side of the van and it accelerated up Madison as Maggie returned.

  “What did Judith have to say?” Maggie had asked.

  “Nonsense,” Jane replied, her eyes following the van’s tail lights until it disappeared in the distance. “Just nonsense.”

  She and Maggie had gotten into a cab and headed up Madison, planning to drop off Jane at 92nd Street before the driver swung through the Park to the West Side. As the cab began to slow on 92nd, Jane let out a groan at the thought of returning alone to her apartment, trying to sleep, rising in the morning to make coffee and go about the routine of her life.

  Maggie had linked her arm in Jane’s and pulled her close.

  “I have an idea,” Maggie said then. “If you still want to come up to my house this weekend.”

  “You know I’ve been looking forward to it since we left on Sunday.”

  “Then why don’t we go now? We’ll just get in my car tonight and start driving.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Of course you can. You can call in for your messages tomorrow. You can use my computer to check your e-mail.”