He nodded slowly, but he averted her eyes. I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
This time he chuckled softly. "Yes, Mother, I am." And after a moment, "I'm awfully glad you're back, Bettina. But I'm sorry you had such a hard time."
"I suppose it was predictable. The only one who didn't predict it was me."
He nodded slowly. "I must admit, when he never got in touch with you here, I was afraid of something like that. But I just thought that maybe he was very angry. I figured maybe when he saw you he'd back off and you two would get a fresh start."
"No such luck." She looked glum for a moment and then looked back at him again. "By the way, have you seen Ivo?" He started to say something, and then shook his head. "I called him the day before Christmas and told him we were coming in. He said he was going to Long Island with friends for Christmas, but he's coming back tonight, and he asked me about lunch tomorrow." She looked at Ollie happily. "Want to come?" Again Ollie only shook his head. And he was spared further explanation as they pulled up in front of the hotel. The porter unloaded their bags, they reclaimed their old suite, which had been just vacated, miraculously, by two businessmen from London who had had it since she left.
"It feels just like coming home again, doesn't it?" Alexander had run off to his room, and Jennifer, his sitter, was due to return to them the next morning. Bettina was going to offer her a permanent job with them as soon as they moved. "Want some dinner, Ollier?"
"No, thanks."
She ordered a hamburger for Alexander and a small steak for herself, sat down on the long couch and ran a hand through her tousled hair. "Tomorrow I start to look for an apartment." But suddenly Ollie sat down next to her with eyes full of gloom.
"Bettina.... "
"Good heavens, what is it? You look like you just lost your best friend." Slowly he nodded, his eyes filling with tears. "Ollie ... what is it? ... Ollie?" She reached out to him and he took her into his arms, but as he did so she could feel that he was not seeking comfort, but offering solace to her. "Ollie?"
"Baby, I didn't want to tell you at the airport, but a terrible thing happened last night." He held her close and felt her tremble as gently she pushed away.
"Ollie ...?" And then she looked at him, horrified, understanding. "Oh, God ... they closed my play?" He smiled gently, and then quietly shook his head.
"No, nothing like that." And then he took a deep breath and took her tiny, frail hand in his. "Bettina, it's Ivo." He closed his eyes for only a fraction of a moment. "He died last night."
"Ivo?" She jumped to her feet and stared at her friend. "Don't be silly. I talked to him two days ago, he was going to Long Island. He was--" And then suddenly, trembling, she sank to the couch and stared at her friend. "Ivo? ... Dead?" Her eyes filled with an ocean of tears as she stared, and Ollie pulled her back into his arms where she cried. "Oh, Ollie, no ... not Ivo ... oh, no ... not Ivo ... not Ivo.... " He walked her slowly to the bedroom before Alexander could see her and gently closed the door, then he lay her down on the bed and let her sob. It was like losing her father all over again, almost worse because she was losing a lifelong friend, and he had always been so good to her, better than her father, and she had never stopped loving him, right till the end. "But I was going to see him for lunch tomorrow, Ollie.... " She stared at him, childlike.
"I know, babe ... I know.... " Gently he stroked her hair as she buried her face again. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry ... I know how you loved him."
As she glanced down at the floor she saw the newspaper lying there and noticed Ivo's picture on the front page, with the story. She was glad she hadn't seen it before.
"He was responsible for everything good that ever happened to me," she said to Ollie as she swung her legs at last over the side of the bed and dried her eyes. "And now he's gone."
Chapter 41
The funeral was two days later. Governors, senators, newspaper moguls, socialites, authors, playwrights, movie stars, everyone came. And in the front row was Bettina.
Ollie took her arm as they left the cathedral, and neither of them spoke a word after they got back into the car. She rode, silent and dry eyed, back to the hotel, holding tightly to his hand. She looked ivory-white as she sat there, her perfect features etched in cameo fashion against the gray silhouette of the sky.
"Do you want to come up for a cup of coffee?" She looked bleakly at Ollie, and then turned as he nodded and followed her inside.
But upstairs there was Alexander and she had to at least make the pretense of wearing a smile. And half an hour later after coffee and croissants and Alexander's stories to his mother about the joys of Central Park, the smile was more than just put on. Ollie was relieved to see her looking better.
"Bettina? How about a walk this morning? I think we could both use some air." And then maybe lunch, and after that coffee at his place. Watching her, he had just decided not to leave her alone. "How about it? You could put on some slacks, and we could go roam for a while. Sound inviting?"
It didn't really, but she knew he wanted to help her, and she didn't want to hurt his feelings by saying no. "All right, all right." She threw up her hands with a small grin.
They rode quietly down in the elevator and ten minutes later they were walking along the edge of the park. Traffic was less frantic than usual because it was Saturday, and now and then a hansom cab clopped slowly by. They wandered along for more than an hour, talking occasionally, and then falling silent for a while, and at last she felt a cozy arm around her and she looked up into his eyes.
"You're a good friend, you know, Ollie. I think that was part of my decision to come back to New York." And then she hesitated for a moment. "You and Ivo." She brushed quickly at a tear with a white-mittened hand. And then softly she spoke again as they waited to cross the street. "Life will never hand me another man like Ivo."
Slowly he nodded. "No, it won't."
And then hand in hand they walked on. It was almost an hour later when they finally stopped to catch their breath.
"Can I interest you in lunch at the Plaza?" But she shook her head slowly. She didn't feel fancy and festive. She still wanted to be left alone.
"I don't think so, love, but thanks."
"Too frenzied?" He understood perfectly.
"Kind of." She smiled.
"How about tea and sandwiches at my place? Does that sound all right?" She brightened at the prospect, nodded, and he quickly hailed cab.
They hurried up the steps of his brownstone, and he opened the door with his key. He had the garden apartment, and as he filled the kettle with water she took off her jacket and looked out into the tiny garden filled with snow.
"I'd forgotten how pretty this is, Ollie."
"I like it." He smiled at her as he started to make their sandwiches.
"I hope I find something as nice as this."
"You will. It takes a while to find the nice ones, but it's worth the look." He had a beautiful beam-ceilinged bedroom with a fireplace, a cozy living room with the same, an old-fashioned kitchen with one brick wall, three wood-paneled ones, a wood floor, and a bread oven, and the garden, which was an unusual bonus in New York.
"How did you find it?' She looked at him happily as he worked.
He smiled at her. "Through the Mail, of course. What are you looking for?"
She sighed as she thought of it. "Something a lot bigger than this, I'm afraid. Like about three bedrooms."
"Why so many?" He handed her a plate with a handsome sandwich filled with salami, smoked ham, and cheese.
She smiled at him and picked up the sandwich. "I need a room for Alexander, someplace to write, and a room for me."
He nodded. "Are you thinking of buying?"
She looked at him in confusion and eventually put down the sandwich and stared at her plate. "I wish I knew." And then she looked up at him. "I don't know what's going to happen, Ollie. Right now I've got all this money from the play. But who knows if that's going to last." She looked at him sobe
rly and he grinned.
"I can promise you, Bettina, it will."
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do. You wrote a great play."
"But what if I can't write another one? What if it all stops?"
He rolled his eyes in amusement but Bettina didn't smile. "You're just like the rest of them, kiddo. All writers seem to live with the same, curse. They make a million bucks on their last book, they sit on the bestseller list for six months, and they cry to you about 'what about tomorrow,' can they still do it, what about the next one, what if ... and on and on, and you're just like that with your play."
Slowly she smiled at him. "I'm not really sure anymore, but I think my father was like that too." And her eyes sobered again. "But look at him, Ollie. He died without a penny. I don't want that to happen to me."
"Good, so don't buy seven houses, nine cars, and hire twenty-three servants. Failing that, you should do just fine," He smiled gently at her. She had told him all about her father's undoing and the four million dollars of debt when he died.
She looked quietly at Ollie, her head tilted to one side. "You know, Ollie, all my life I've been dependent on men. My father, Ivo, that actor I was married to"--she didn't even like to say his name--"then John. This is the first time in my life when I haven't been dependent on anyone except me." She looked up at him with a small comfortable smile. "I kind of like it."
He nodded. "You should, it's a good feeling."
"Yeah," she sighed, still smiling, "and sometimes it's scary too. I've always had someone there, and now for the first time in my life, I don't." And then more softly, "I don't even have Ivo anymore. All I have is me."
He looked at her gently. "And me."
She touched his hand warmly. "You've been a good friend. But you know something funny?"
"What?"
"I don't mind having to rely on myself. It scares the hell out of me sometimes, but it's a nice feeling too."
"Bettina"--he eyed her with candor--"I hate to tell you this, but I think you've just grown up."
"Already?" She looked at him and started laughing, and he toasted her with his cup of tea.
"Listen, you're way ahead of the game. I'm nine years older than you are, and I'm not sure I've grown up yet."
"Sure you have. You've always depended on you. You've never been dependent like I have."
"Being independent has its drawbacks too." He looked pensive as he stared into his garden. "You get so hung up on what you're doing, on where you're going, and how to get there, that you never get too close to anyone else."
"Why not?" She spoke very softly in the warm, cozy kitchen as he watched her.
"You don't have time. Anyway I was too busy getting important, wanting to be number one at the paper in L.A."
"And now you've almost made it here." She smiled gently. "Now what?"
"I haven't made it, Bettina. You know what I wanted? I wanted to be like Ivo, to be the publisher of a major newspaper in a major town. And you know what's happened? All of a sudden I don't give a damn. I like what I'm doing, I'm enjoying New York, and for the first time in forty-two years, I don't give a shit about tomorrow, I'm just enjoying myself right now, right here." She smiled at him in answer.
"I know just what you mean." And as she said it she leaned almost imperceptibly forward, without even knowing she had, and Ollie suddenly moved toward her, and without thinking they kissed for a long, heady time. She pulled away finally, looking startled as she caught her breath. "How did that happen?" She tried to make light of it, but he wouldn't let her. There was suddenly something very serious in his eyes.
"It's been a long time coming, Bettina."
She was about to deny it, and then she nodded slowly. "I guess it has." And then after a moment, "I thought ... I kind of thought ... we would always be just friends."
He took her carefully in his arms again. "We are. But there's a confession I have to make to you, Miss Daniels. It's something I've wanted to tell you for a very long time," He smiled gently down at her and she smiled.
"Really. Mister Paxton, what's that?"
"That I love you ... in fact I love you very much."
"Oh, Ollie." She buried her face in his chest with a sigh, but he reached under and caught her chin with his finger and gently made her look him in the eye.
"What does that mean? Are you angry?" For a moment he looked almost sad, but she was shaking her head with a look of chagrin.
"No, I'm not angry. How could I be?" Her voice softened still further. "I love you too. But I thought... it just seemed so simple ... the way it was."
"It had to be simple then. You were married. Now you're not."
She nodded, thinking, and then she looked him squarely in the eye. "I'll never get married again, Oliver. I want you to know that right now." She looked deadly serious as she told him. "Do you understand that?" He nodded. "Can you accept it?"
"I can try."
"You have a right to get married, you've never done it, You have a right to a wife and kids and all of that staff. But I've done it, I've had it, I don't ever want that again."
"What do you want?" He held her loosely in his arms and caressed her with his eyes.
She thought for a long moment "Companionship, affection, someone to laugh with and share my life with, someone who respects me and my work and loves my child.... " She fell silent and their eyes met and held.
It was Ollie who finally broke the silence. "That's not too much to ask, Bettina." His voice seemed gentler by the moment as he stroked her soft coppery hair.
She nestled in his hand like a cat near a fire in winter, her eyes sparkling as she looked into his. "And you, Ollie? What do you want?" Her voice was deliciously husky.
Ha seemed to hesitate for a long time. "I want you, Bettina." And as he said it his bands moved from the brilliant hair that framed her face and began to slowly peel away her clothes. She let herself be unraveled like a ball of twine, until at last she lay there, naked and shimmering, on his bed, a bare expanse of creamy satin beneath his soft, stroking hands. And then like a chorus to a song she had long dreamed of, he said it again and again and again. "I want you, Bettina ... my darling ... I want you ... my love.... " And suddenly she felt the flames of her own long forgotten passion engulf her as he rapidly and expertly brought her body back to life. And suddenly she was leaping and surging in his arms, tearing at his clothes, until they lay there together, breathless and hungry, burning with an insatiable desire for each other's love. And at last the fires they had so quickly fanned burned gently to embers and they lay in each other's arms and smiled.
"Happy?" He looked down at her with a tender gleam in his eye that said that she was his now.
"Yes. Very happy." Her voice was a sleepy whisper as she laced her fingers into his and nestled her head into his neck. "I love you, Ollie." It was the smallest and sweetest of whispers, and he closed his eyes and smiled.
He pulled her gently toward him and let his mouth hungrily seek hers once more, and his limbs and his soul and the very essence of his being reached out to her once again.
"Ollie.... " This time she smiled when he took her. It was their game now. And they were both having fun and enjoying making love to each other at last. "Is it really supposed to be like that?" She looked at him with a suspicious grin when it was over.
"Like what?" His smile was as mischievous as hers. "You mean lighthearted?" He was grinning broadly as he reached around and held her behind in both his hands. "Madam, has anyone told you lately that you have the best-looking fanny in town?"
"Do I?" She grinned wickedly at him. "Maybe they ought to put that on the marquee of my play...."
She appeared to ponder the possibility and Oliver laughed and tousled her hair.
"Come here you.... " But the hands were gentle even when the words were playful. "Woman, you can't even begin to imagine how much I love you." He fell silent for a long moment, and Bettina gazed up at him with a lifetime in her eyes.
She
nodded slowly. "Yes, I can, Ollie ... oh, yes I can.... "
"Can you?" He was smiling again. "How?"
But she wasn't playing now. She reached out and held him with all of her strength, her eyes tightly closed, her heart held out to him as she whispered the words. "Because I love you with my whole soul." And as she said it she felt for a moment as though this were her last chance. Her eyes opened then and she looked at Oliver Paxton and smiled as he leaned down and kissed her again.
Chapter 42
Bettina stared at Ollie gloomily in his kitchen as he poured her more tea. They had been spending long hours in his apartment for the past two weeks. She was renting her suite in the hotel by the month now, but Ollie's place still felt more like a home.
"Don't look so cheerful, darling. I promise, I'm honest, hardworking, and very neat." He waved at the total chaos around them, four days of newspapers, his bathrobe, and Bettina's clothes. "See?"
"Don't be funny. And that's not the point."
"Then what is?" He sat down comfortably at the oak table and reached for her hand.
"If we move in together, it's all going to start again, it'll happen. I'll get dependent, you'll want to get married. Now I have to think of Alexander. It's just not right." She looked miserable and his eyes attempted to console. They had been discussing it all week.
"I understand your concern about Alexander, and I share that concern too. But this doesn't make sense either. You're running back and forth to the hotel, you never have time to work, and it'll be the same damn thing if you get your own apartment. You'll be spending at least half your time here." He leaned over and kissed her and they both smiled. "Do you know how much I love you?"
"Tell me."
"I adore you." He whispered it softly.
"Goodie." She giggled and leaned forward to kiss him across the table as she felt his hand slide up her leg. It had been like that since the first time. He was so gentle and funny and easy to be with. He understood her, and her work, and he truly loved Alexander. But best of all, she and Ollie shared a special friendship. She wanted nothing more than to live with him, but she didn't want the same nightmares to happen again. What if he started to resent her work? What if Alexander annoyed him? What if he cheated on her or she on him?
Loving (1981) Page 24
