Hold Fast 'Til the Dawn

by Mary Haskell

  They stared at each other, each daring the other to remove the lid to Pandora's box. Larry did it, unwittingly.

  "Do I understand that you had no children?"

  The black eyes narrowed. "That's true, I had no children. I wil never have any children. I am unable to have children."

  "Oh my God." An avalanche of guilt, remorse, and anguish slammed Larry, crushing him to the back of the chair, choking him with grief. The monumental question had been asked, and the answer was unthinkable, unendurable. "Ky, Ky, why did you do it? Why couldn't you have waited just a while, given me some time to think?"

  Tears coursed down her cheeks. "Think about what? What was there to think about? You turned your back on me—you, the one person in the world I depended on. How could you, Larry? How could you have stopped loving me so suddenly?" She jumped up, turning her back to him.

  Larry stood and crossed to her. "I didn't stop loving you. That was never the issue. It was so completely unexpected. I know it sounds ridiculous," he said running his hand across his mouth, "these days, when even the youngest of kids seem to know al there is to know about sex. But it never even occurred to me that you might get pregnant."

  Her shoulders were shaking, the heaving of silent sobs wrenching his heart. When she spoke her voice was quaking with grief. "I thought you'd be so excited. The possibility that you wouldn't want the baby never crossed my mind. Oh, Larry, how can it stil hurt so much after al these years?"

  He put his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her around to face him. "Ky, I am perfectly willing to take most of the responsibility, but dammit al , some of it does belong to you. You knew me so wel . You must have known that as soon as I pul ed myself together we'd have worked it out. But because you were ticked at me for not reacting the way you thought I should, you..." The tears were now running freely down Larry's cheeks, too, but he paid no attention to them. "Ky, it was my baby, too. How could you have done that without at least giving me a second chance?"

  The sobs broke free, shaking her smal frame, rasping through her quivering voice. "I know, I know. Oh Larry, I'm so sorry."

  He pul ed her into his arms, holding her tightly, cupping the back of her head protectively as she leaned her forehead on his chest. "Oh, Ky, so am I. I can never tel you how sorry I am." They held each other, comforter and comforted, the roles reversible, cocooned in the long-overdue grief of a nineteen-year-old tragedy.

  Finally they pul ed apart, Larry reaching for his handkerchief, tenderly wiping Ky's cheeks before brusquely mopping his own. Ky looked up at him through deep, beseeching tunnels of memory. "What now, Larry?"

  He stepped back sharply, banging his thigh into the corner of the desk. His legs seemed to have lost their strength, and he sank into the chair once more. "Now? There is no now for us, Ky. I'm a happily married man with two children. No matter how much I regret what happened, I can't erase nineteen years." He looked at her, his mind a whirling flurry of uncertainty. "Ky, you had one bad marriage, but you can put that behind you and find someone else." He wished his voice held more conviction.

  With feline grace she moved to his side, her hot-coal eyes holding his prisoner. Stopping very close beside him, she bent to bestow a soft, static-charged kiss on his aching lips. Gazing at him from under half-lowered lids, she let her body lean lightly against his shoulder. She spoke in a low, deep whisper. "Oh, Larry, such nonsense. You and I have always belonged to each other. We stil do. Anything else is a travesty."

  Larry's heart pounded in his ears as she turned and bent to get her shoulder bag that was on the floor next to the chair, the beautiful curves of her body showing clearly as the russet silk dress tightened on her form. She walked to the door, opened it, then turned and said simply, "Goodbye, Larry." She walked through the opening and shut the door behind her.

  Larry sat, bolted in place, for a very long time, his mind tumbling and twisting. Final y, he ran his fingers through his hair and announced to himself, "I'm in trouble."

  Chapter Five

  Jenny sat in the improvised bleachers at the club, watching her golden-haired daughter, so smal and so much younger- looking than her opponent, dashing around the court like a streak of lightning, winning point after point from the plainly annoyed teenager on the other side of the net. At the end of the last set Christy leapt into the aft, her racquet moving with uncanny speed to connect with the bal and send it flying across the net just behind her opponent's feet. The game was over.

  Jenny smiled her gratitude as her friends offered congratulations. She made her way to the court, where her daughter was jumping up and down with glee. Jenny extended her hand first to the loser. "You played beautiful y," she lied. Then she turned to her own bubbling girl. "Congratulations, Christy, you played a superb game." That was true.

  Christy threw her sweaty body into her mother's arms, hugging her tightly. "Oh, Mom! Isn't it great? Only one more match to go, and I'll be the junior champion!"

  While Christy ran off to shower and change Jenny waited outside, chatting with friends. She was anxious to get home in time to do a few hours more on Hal Clemens's research. Some people considered such work dul , but to her it was like unraveling a mystery, finding al the puzzle pieces, completing the picture.

  She had checked eight books out of the Harvard library by special permission at Professor Clemens's request.

  She was deeply concentrating on her notes when she heard Larry cal , "Hel o, I'm home!"

  Jenny glanced at her watch, alarmed to see that it was six o'clock.

  He appeared at the door to her study. "Hard at work, I see."

  She smiled at him, flicking a bit of cheer his way, easing the picture of wife so wrapped up in her work that she forgets husband's arrival. "Hi, sweetie. You're home early." She stood and gave him a peck on the cheek.

  He grabbed her arm and pul ed her to him. Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her with startling passion.

  When he let go, Jenny teetered momentarily, caught off-balance by the intensity of the kiss. "My goodness,"

  she joked nervously, "what is this? Me-Tarzan, you-Jane night?"

  His only response was a short, sharp laugh that lacked humor.

  She shuffled her papers into a neat pile and turned off her electric typewriter. "Would you like to get changed while I start dinner?"

  He looked pensive, a frown creasing his forehead. "Jen, why don't we go out for dinner tonight? I feel like getting out of the house."

  Now she real y did study him. What was wrong? He had been in such a strange mood yesterday, and stil withdrawn at breakfast this morning. She had hoped his sunny disposition would be back in place when he got home tonight. No such luck. "Wel , I don't know. The kids..."

  "You seem to have no trouble leaving them alone when you want to go to work."

  Jenny stared at him silently for a second, then forced her tight shoulders to ease down. "Al right," she said simply.

  "Give me half an hour to fix something for them and get dressed."

  "Okay. I'll go read the paper."

  She rushed about the kitchen, made a tuna casserole and a salad, put the casserole into the oven and the salad into the refrigerator, and wrote a brief note for Rick and Christy, reminding them to feed Dmitri. Then she went upstairs to dress. She'd have to cal the kids before Larry and she left. They had gone down the street to play Ping-Pong with a group of friends at a neighbor's house.

  Just as she finished dressing, the telephone rang. She reached across the bed to pick it up. "Mom? This is Rick. The Smiths want to know if we can stay here for a cookout. They'll drive us home later."

  Great. Why couldn't he have cal ed before she'd made the casserole? "Al right, Ricky, I guess so. Your dad and I are going out to dinner. I'll leave the outside light on. You know where the key is hidden. Ask Mr. Smith to stay with you until you've come in and looked around."

  "Ah, Mom—"

  "Rick, just do as I say!"

  "Okay, okay. What are you al steamed up about?"

>   "Nothing, honey, I'm sorry. But be sure he waits, al right?"

  "Yeah, Mom. Do you want him to wipe my nose for me, too?"

  "Don't get smart, young man."

  "Mom, I'm just kidding. Boy, are you uptight!"

  "Good-bye, Rick."

  "Bye, Mom."

  Jenny uneasily set the receiver back in its cradle. What was wrong with her? The tuna casserole could be frozen and used later. Things like that didn't usual y bother her. Larry's mood was getting to her.

  They went to a cozy local restaurant, one they always enjoyed for its intimate, informal air and good food, but this evening the ambiance didn't seem to work any magic on either of them. The mood continued to be strained, and Jenny felt herself slipping steadily deeper into a very uncharacteristic depression. Nothing she said seemed to cut through the barrier between them. Larry ordered a martini— and drank it with startling rapidity, then ordered another. Jenny nursed a bourbon and water. Whatever was going on, liquor wasn't going to cure it. "Larry?"

  "What?"

  "What's wrong?"

  He looked at her. Her brown eyes seemed pale, her face too serious. The simple style of her long, straight hair, which usual y pleased him, suddenly appeared little-girlish.

  What the hel was he doing? He was sitting here racking up a scorecard on Jenny and giving her F's in everything. How had he veered this far off track? And how in heaven could he get back on?

  "I don't know, Jen. Maybe I'm catching something. I've felt kind of lousy for a few days." The age-old, handy excuse for unexplainable behavior. She seemed satisfied by the answer, relieved to have a reason applied to his surliness. Why doesn't she hit me over the head with something? he asked himself. Ky would. His mind clanged, "Foul!" and he quickly dropped his eyes to cover whatever might be there to read.

  How could he stand this resurgence of need for the quicksilver girl from his past? He had already decided not to tel Jenny that he had seen Ky. What good would it do? Ky was gone, back to her home in Dal as. She had stayed just long enough to shatter him again, nineteen years later, then disappear into the sunset. Besides, what would he say if he did tel Jenny? "Ky dropped into my office today, dear. She's so beautiful it took my breath away, and she reawakened every vestige of longing that was shoved away into the nooks and crannies of these old bones." No. Never. Let it be. He'd recover; he had before.

  Jenny gave her order to the waitress who had appeared at the table. "Just the spinach salad, please."

  Larry glanced across at her. "That's al ?"

  "I'm not very hungry."

  "I'll have a sirloin steak, medium rare, and a baked potato."

  "What would you like on your salad?" the girl asked.

  Ky Kayle, he thought. "Oil and vinegar."

  The meal was a slow-motion endurance contest. Neither of them could pick a subject for conversation that didn't either start sparks flying or die a swift death. Jenny's stomach was tied in so many knots that even the spinach salad had to be forced down slowly. Was this al because of the resurrection of the thought of Ky?

  Could he be in this foul a mood over a mere memory when he hadn't even seen her? Or was he angry and resentful because he had made that choice? Either way it gave the affair far more importance than Jenny had wanted to believe it held after al these years.

  Surely it was something else that was bothering him. But Larry was never secretive about his problems. Her world felt tipped off its rightful axis. She just wanted to be home in bed, safe, protected, curled in her husband's loving embrace. She had never before felt unsure of him. Although many women over the years had flirted outrageously with him, she had never been jealous. Larry was so home-oriented, never showing any interest in other women, never exhibiting the restlessness she saw in so many other men. Now, however... She just wanted to go home.

  But later, lying rigidly alone on her side of the king- sized bed, separated from her husband by a wide wasteland of mattress and an awful, impenetrable silence, she shivered with the realization that the safety and protection seemed to have vanished from her home.

  By the fol owing afternoon Jenny could feel her nerves twang with every movement. Larry had tried to be helpful and considerate al morning, tried so hard that he had heightened her anxiety and confirmed her intuition that something was wrong.

  "Ready to go?" He took the car keys out of his pocket, clanking them annoyingly.

  "Yes." Jenny picked up the canvas bag that held an assortment of fruit and a thermos of lemonade. They were heading to the club for the Saturday afternoon playoff of the junior league tennis championship. Christy was already there, warming up. Jenny thanked the powers that be and Christy's strong backhand that they had to attend this event. She hated to think how she would have made it through the day if there were nothing special going on. She fol owed Larry to the garage.

  "Where's Rick?" he asked.

  "Larry, I told you. Rick went ahead with Christy. He told her he'd be bal boy while they practiced."

  "Oh yeah, I forgot."

  They rode in silence, and the six-mile journey seemed to Jenny to take about four hours. She tried a couple of times to indirectly ask Larry what was going on, but he was decidedly not open to questioning. Just watching him reminded her of that old TV commercial about the invisible shield. Maybe they had both made a mistake.

  Maybe Larry should have seen Ky after al . It was hard to imagine how it would have created any greater strain between them. She wondered if Wil had told Larry about Ky's visit, about what was said and how she looked.

  Jenny stared blindly out the window. Why couldn't she plunge in and ask him those questions? She was so unused to this remote, unreachable Larry that she felt as if she were dealing with a stranger. She should—

  Jenny closed her eyes. Should, should, should. The world was always so ful of shoulds, and how could she know which should she should pick? At the moment, none of them seemed to offer a very promising outcome.

  It appeared that, once again, old Father Time would have to do the job by offering the buffer of accumulated days. But how many would have to accumulate?

  Christy and Paula were tied one set each, and the third set was 4 to 3—Christy's favor and Christy's serve.

  Jenny sat on the edge of her seat, fil ed with the adrenaline of mother-wanting-the-best-for-child. She sneaked a sidelong glance at Larry, noting with satisfaction that he was fil ed with the father version of same. His eyes were riveted on the bal , his attention never wavering. When the announcement was made, "40-5, advantage Andrews," she thought they would both explode in a burst of parental anxiety. "Game, Andrews."

  "Atta girl, Christy!" Larry's proud voice rang out, causing friends to smile indulgently in their direction. Christy gave him a wave of her hand before crouching in the receiver's stance. When the cal , "Game, set, and match, Christal Andrews" came, Jenny and Larry jumped up, reaching for each other in an automatic hug of mother-father exuberance.

  "Jen, isn't that great? Let's go down and congratulate our little star." His face beaming with pride and joy, he pul ed Jenny along with him to the court, where he gathered the ecstatic Christy into his arms, lifting and twirling her in her own winner's circle. Rick bobbed up and down, his offhand, older-brother air abandoned for the occasion. The four of them clasped each other, the tight family unit together again. Jenny's heart pounded with elation. It felt so good, this closeness.

  "Mom, Mom," came Christy's double-talk of excitement, "can I ask the gang over for pizza? We could pick some up at the pizzeria. That wouldn't be too much trouble, would it?"

  Jenny looked at the beaming face, knowing that almost nothing would be too much trouble right now. It was Christy's day—bright, shiny, and sunny—"Larry?" Jenny searched his face. "Is that al right with you?"

  "Al right?" The glittering grin broadcast his enthusiasm. "Of course it's al right. But we can do better than warmed- over pizza. Jen,"—the happy blue eyes engulfed her in their encompassing embrace—"why don't we go to the store and pick
up stuff for hotdogs and burgers and the works. We can set up our gril and borrow a couple from the neighbors. How does that sound?"

  "Wonderful." It was amazing—as though someone had thrown a switch and restored Larry to Larry. Her gratitude to the switch-thrower was boundless. He grabbed her hand automatical y, holding her close beside him as, along with their champion daughter and proud-as-punch son, they worked their way through the congratulating crowd.

  The place was a madhouse. There were at least fifty energetic boys and girls ranging in age from Christy's twelve to Bil y Samuelson's eighteen. Larry had four gril s ful of hot charcoal lined up on the patio and was turning out hotdogs and hamburgers with assembly-line efficiency. And they were being consumed as fast as they came off the gril . Luckily he and Jenny had bought what they both considered to be an absurd amount of food, assuming that the spare meat and rol s would go into the freezer for the next party. Jenny patted the freezer as she walked by. "Sorry, fridge," she informed it, "there'll be no stoking your innards tonight."

  "Do you often talk to freezers?"

  She jumped and turned around. Bil y Samuelson stood right behind her, grinning. She laughed. "Caught again.

  I'd like to answer no, but the truth is that I have some of my best conversations with inanimate objects. They don't talk back. Although once in a while one of them displays its displeasure by conking out."

  Bil y leaned against the freezer, watching her with his gray green eyes as she moved about the kitchen. Jenny felt a creeping sensation of girl-boy, man-woman self-consciousness. It was ridiculous, she scolded herself.

  She was twenty years older than Bil y. He was a kid. He just happened to be a kid who was obviously going to grow into a walking, talking woman-trap.

  The eyes stayed on her, never wavering. The fact that he was openly, unabashedly flirting with her could no longer be ignored. Wel , wel , so she was to be the focus of Bil y's first older-woman crush. Jenny found herself smiling, a little shocked at her pleased reaction. Wel , why shouldn't she be? she thought. He couldn't pick anyone he'd be safer with, and she had a nasty feeling she was going to need al the admiration she could get.