Hold Fast 'Til the Dawn

by Mary Haskell

  Martha made a complete circle, checking the whole room, then announced, "Nothing. Not a thing. We're finished!" She came over and sat beside Jenny. "The caterers wil do everything else. Now, how about some lunch? I have two gorgeous shrimp salads made. I figured we'd deserve a little spoiling after al our work."

  Jenny started to beg off, to explain that she had to get back to her research, but the prospect of a relaxed lunch with a good friend sounded enticing. No matter how much she tried to con herself into believing otherwise, she was dreading the evening ahead. "Sounds great, Martha, thanks."

  They sat at the long, pine board table in the sunny kitchen, Martha talking a mile a minute, obviously excited about the party. "We were amazed at the response: almost everyone we asked said yes. I always expect at least a fifteen-percent refusal for a big group, but Wil says that anyone involved with accounting knows the value of free booze." She laughed. "You realize, of course, that when he asked me to give this party he assured me he would invite only about twenty-five or thirty people. The last count was seventy-four."

  Jenny stared at her, aghast. "You're kidding!"

  "Would that I were! I guess my dear husband decided we might as wel repay some old social obligations while we were at it. Anyway, there'll be quite a contingent of artsy types as wel as about fifteen from the world of high fashion. You and I can hover in the background and pretend to be with the caterers." She gave another gleeful laugh. "Either that or we can dash into town now and buy something outrageously extravagant." She smiled at Jenny. "You know, Jen, if you went into that shop that's taking on Ky's line and asked to see her, you could probably get a good discount and be the bel e of the bal ."

  Jenny stared down at her hands, which were clamped tightly at the sides of her plate. "There's no way I'll be the bel e of this bal ."

  Martha lifted the pitcher of iced tea and refil ed their glasses. "I suppose you're right—we may as wel bow to glamour for the evening. Wil 's done so much gushing over the incomparable Ms. Kayle that I feel inclined to puke whenever he mentions the name. Men. They're al such pushovers for a gorgeous broad."

  Martha took the plates to the sink, chatting on the way, "We can make a deal: I'll kick Larry in the shins if he gawks too much, and you can do the same for me with Wil ." She returned to the table with two bowls of raspberry sherbet. "Although I'm sure you'll be perfectly at ease with the whole business, since you and Ky are such old friends."

  Jenny was appal ed to feel great pools of tears gather in her eyes and spil over, running streams down her cheeks. "Oh damn," she blurted.

  "Jenny... dear... what is it?" Martha quickly pul ed her chair to Jenny's side and took Jenny's hand in hers.

  "What in heaven's name did I say?"

  Jenny tried to speak, to reassure her that it was nothing she had said, to make up some flimsy excuse for the cascade of tears, but the words turned into blubbering sounds, accented by hiccups of weeping.

  Martha tut-tutted over her, making comforting noises, her face creased with concern. "There, there." She reached over to a side shelf and retrieved a box of tissues. "Here, blow your nose. My goodness, I do believe this is the first time I've ever seen you cry. Come on, honey, tel me what's troubling you."

  Jenny felt a faint touch of amusement through her dismay. Martha had a way of sounding like an elderly aunt when she was consoling someone. Jenny fol owed instructions, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes, ashamed at the sil y display of waterworks. "Martha, I'm sorry" she stammered, "this is so dumb."

  "It isn't dumb at al . Something is real y bothering you. Come now, Jenny, don't be such a clam. Open up. You know that anything you tel me wil go no farther than this room."

  Jenny nodded. She certainly wasn't worried about Martha's carrying tales; she was just so used to keeping her private affairs to herself. But one glance at her friend's kindly, anxious face broke her reserve. "I'm sure I'm worrying about nothing. It's just, wel , Ky isn't a friend of mine. I've never even met her."

  "What?" The look was one of pure astonishment.

  "The truth is that Ky was Larry's girlfriend for over five years. He loved her very much, but then, through a complicated set of circumstances, they broke up. That was over a year before Larry and I even started dating.

  I came as a great surprise to Larry's friends; they al expected him to marry Ky."

  "For Pete's sake, I had no idea. Has Larry seen much of her since?"

  "He hadn't seen her at al until last week." Jenny rose and went to the sink for a drink of water. "I don't know why it scares me so, Martha, but Larry was so upset after he saw her, and I'm no match for a raving beauty, particularly one who shares so many memories with my husband."

  Martha shook her head. "You are a match for anyone at al , Jennifer Andrews, and I'm sure Larry would be the first to agree with that. Nevertheless, I can sympathize with your situation. No woman in her right mind wants her husband's old heartthrobs popping up—not unless they've gotten fat and dumpy. Now let's get practical.

  What can I do to help? A little rat poison in her drink, perhaps? Or how about my spil ing an especial y gooey dip over the entire Ky Kayle original?"

  Jenny was delighted to hear herself laugh. Somehow having Martha plotting dire events for Ky put the whole thing into a different sphere, making it sound like an annoying trifle to be dispensed with as quickly as possible. And after al , that was undoubtedly al it was. At worst she might have to put up with seeing Larry staring off into space and heaving great sighs for a while, but it could be far worse than that if the lady didn't live in a nice faraway place like Dal as.

  She helped Martha carry the dishes to the sink, then, giving way to Martha's insistence that she would clean up, picked up her canvas shoulder bag from the stool by the back door. "Martha, thanks for the delicious lunch and the shoulder to cry on. I'll see you this evening."

  "Okay, sweetie, and don't worry, everything wil be al right, I'm sure. And Jenny..."

  "Yes?"

  "I'm sure Wil doesn't know any of this or he wouldn't have set up the party. At least if I thought otherwise, I'd bash him over the head."

  Jenny smiled at her. "Don't get violent, Martha, or I'll have to write you up for Professor Clemens's book. And I'm sure, too. Larry has let everyone assume that Ky is a mutual friend. I guess that means I'll have to try to act friendly." With a little what-can-you-do shrug, she headed for home.

  Jenny jammed the hanger back into place and kicked the closet door shut. "Hel !" she muttered. Christy paused at the door to the bedroom. "Mom, what's the matter? You keep slamming around in here, and that's the second swear I've heard you say."

  Jenny glared at the four outfits spread across the bed. "I can't find anything decent to wear."

  Christy stared at her. "You have a lot of nice clothes. Anyway, since when have you cared that much? You usual y just throw something on at the last minute."

  "You make me sound like a walking discard heap!"

  "Mom! I didn't mean that. You always look okay. Besides, you're not the big guest of honor tonight anyway. No one's going to care what you look like."

  Jenny swung on her angrily. "Wel , thanks a lot!"

  Christy, visibly confused, retreated. "Jeez, what's the matter? What did I say, anyway?"

  "Nothing, Christy, I'm just tired and don't feel much like partying. Why don't you go down and fix something for you and Rick for dinner?"

  "Okay, okay." She could hear Christy's muttering as she headed down the hal . "Talk about a bad mood!"

  Jenny stood stil for a moment, amazed at her own temper. Then she impatiently pul ed a lavender cotton dress over her head, determined to put an end to the indecision. After locating the sandals that matched the dress, and dabbing on a touch of blusher and some pink lipstick, she vigorously brushed her freshly washed and blow-dryed hair and surveyed the results in the ful -length mirror. "Mrs. Al -American Housewife," she sputtered at her reflection. "Backbone of the nation."

  "Mom, why are you talking to yours
elf?" Rick lounged against the doorjamb, observing her with skeptical bemusement.

  "I'm practicing. I'm probably the only one who'll talk to me al evening."

  "What does that mean? Have you been eating onions today or something?" He banged into the bedpost and plopped onto the mattress, stretching out and watching her. "Hey, you look pretty good tonight. Is this the big fancy freak- out at the Samuelsons'?"

  "That's just what it is—a big fancy freak-out. Probably mine."

  "You're acting awful y peculiar today. Are you getting senile or something?"

  She whirled on him. "Rick, dammit! Look what a mess you're making of the quilt. Don't you have something to do?"

  He leapt up as though propel ed from beneath, his face registering the bewilderment he undoubtedly felt. "Al right, Mom." He circled her careful y, as though fearful she would suddenly fal into a frothing fit at his feet.

  "See you later." With that he dashed through the door.

  "Oh darn." Jenny fought the wetness gathering behind her eyes. "I can't cry. I'm not going to show up at the Samuelsons' to be introduced to Ky oh-so-perfect Kayle with red-rimmed eyes." She grabbed her summer clutch bag, an al -purpose straw color, and shoved her comb, lipstick, and a few tissues into it. Taking one last derisive look at herself, she left the room.

  She got about halfway down the stairs when the front door opened. Larry stepped in, holding the door ajar.

  She heard him say, "... and you'll have a chance to meet my kids." Then her heart sank slowly to the heels of her lavender sandals as she watched the most exquisite creature she had ever seen walk through the door, hesitate, look around, then smile up at Larry, who hovered over her protectively.

  Jenny absolutely never felt faint, but she felt faint at that moment. If women were stil al owed to have the vapors, she could fal into her bed with the most convincing case ever witnessed. But there seemed to be no alternative to descending the stairs, to saying "how do you do" to this interloper, to paste a smile on her face, hoping it would maintain itself through an entire evening of pure, unadulterated hel .

  Larry glanced up, catching sight of her. "Here's Jenny now."

  She realized she had reached the bottom of the stairs and was only a few feet from Ky and Larry. Ky stepped forth, extending her smal , slim hand. The smile she flashed was bril iant. Perfect pearly whites, Jenny noted.

  Everything about her was perfect. She was like some finely carved porcelain dol , to be acquired by a discriminating connoisseur and guarded with care. "Jenny." The voice was a su-surrant rustle. "How delightful to meet you."

  "You must be Ky." Her own voice rasped in her ears, sounding flat and listless, and the hand she extended to Ky felt huge and coarse. Never in her grimmest fantasies could Jenny have imagined a more devastating meeting. Most of the time the worst part of any bad situation was the anticipation. Not so in this case. The reality was far more demoralizing than she had dreamed. Ky was more than... everything. Her mind could go no further.

  Just then Rick and Christy charged into the entrance hal . Jenny watched, witness to a nightmare, as they both stopped dead, open-mouthed at the beautiful woman, complete with an intriguingly foreign appearance, who stood so close to their father.

  "Wow." The word popped out of Rick's mouth fol owed by a blush.

  Larry touched Ky's elbow in a gesture so natural that Jenny felt sick. "Ky, meet Richard Hale Andrews, known to family and friends as Rick."

  The tiny firm hand shot forth in the youth's direction, the blinding smile clearly dazzling the bewitched boy. Ky looked up at him, her petiteness managing to make Rick's five-foot-eight seem tal , her almond eyes blinking black magic at him. "In that case," she said, "I hope I wil be al owed to cal you Rick."

  And she'd thought only cats purred, Jenny fumed inwardly, al too aware that Ky was doing the ful number on Rick and that, beyond a shadow of doubt, it was succeeding. He looked like he might col apse at her feet at any moment. It wasn't over, this seduction of her family. Christy stepped forward to be introduced next, so obviously bedazzled that her mouth hung slightly open.

  Jenny leaned against the stair rail, her mind devoid of bright remarks or scintil ating observations to parry with this insidiously charming woman. Why had Larry brought Ky here? He hadn't warned her of this intrusion. And why couldn't her own children feel the desolation she felt, sense the feeling of desertion she was suffering?

  Then she was once again the object of the glistening ebony eyes, the sparkling, knowing smile. "Jenny, it's such a treat to meet you. Larry has told me so many wonderful things about you." Had he? When? Had they spent enough time together for Larry to describe her to the love of his youth? And what had he told her?

  Jenny felt that her privacy had been invaded, pinned like a dead butterfly, stretched out for observation. "How nice," she stuttered awkwardly. "I've heard a great deal about you, too." Oh heaven's, that hadn't come out at al right.

  But Ky's smile broadened as she turned those incredible eyes on Jenny's husband. "Real y? That's good to know." She seemed so relaxed, so sure that anything said about her was bound to be flattering.

  Jenny couldn't imagine how she would make it through the evening. She blinked, focusing on what Ky was saying to her in that low, murmuring tone. "You have a lovely home. Would it be impolite of me to ask for a tour?"

  Rick and Christy almost stepped on each other in their haste to offer their services as guides. With jol y little comments flip-flapped back and forth, they were soon escorting Ky around, one on each side.

  Her dear old house suddenly looked almost as ragged as Jenny felt. As the trio disappeared in the direction of the living room, Jenny turned to Larry to ask why he had brought Ky home with him. She was stopped by the wistful look in his eyes, eyes that were fol owing Ky even after she was gone from view. Jenny had never experienced a sensation of such complete, al -consuming fear.

  It seemed minutes before he noticed her waiting for his attention. His eyes turned to her, and he started, as though surprised to find someone standing there. "Jenny. Wel , you're al ready, I see."

  She wanted to scream, No, I'm not ready, not for this!

  "Yes." Her voice was choked, unsure. "I didn't know you were bringing Ky with you." The wonderful world of understatement.

  "Oh." Larry looked flustered. "Gosh, I'm sorry, honey." His fingers slid nervously through his hair, "I did try several times to cal . One of the kids must have been on the phone. Ah, Wil had to get home to help Martha, so he asked me to pick her up."

  But when did you, Larry? her mind raged. When did you pick her up? Thirty minutes ago? This morning?

  When?

  The bad dream rol ed on. Al too soon they were reassembled at the front door, stepping out into the early summer evening. Rick and Christy fluttered about, two moths around a flame, loath to say good-bye. At that moment Dmitri came bounding up from the field and began his wild joy leaps around the whole group, wiggling and emitting yips of welcome.

  Ky stepped back, raising her hands before her in a defensive gesture, looking up at Larry with great, beseeching eyes. "Oh Larry, please. I'm sorry, but dogs frighten me."

  Frighten her? This smal , friendly, unthreatening beast? Jenny felt a tiny wave of smugness. That would be at least one mark against her. Larry and the kids adored Dmitri.

  But her il usions were jaggedly shattered by Larry^ sharp, angry command. "Dmitri, down." The little black body instantly sat, quivering with the anticipation of loving attention. "Get inside and behave yourself." Larry pushed him with his foot through the front door, banging it shut behind him.

  Jenny opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. She couldn't believe the scene before her: their precious little poodle, ears forward, questioning, his eyes, ful of hurt, moving from one of his people to the next, wondering at his rejection. She stood, watching her son and daughter stil bubbling around Ky, oblivious to the dog's dilemma. And Larry, hovering, touching, guiding the work of art down the stone stairs, also oblivious to the
dilemma of his dog... and his wife.

  Jenny hung back, al too aware that she was not missed, as the quartet moved ahead to the car. She was dimly conscious of the conversation drifting back: Christy's excited questions about the designed clothing line, the awe of a young girl confronting her first "celebrity," getting her first taste of the world of high fashion.

  Jenny's eyes moved to the outfit Ky wore, realizing that if someone asked her to describe it, she wouldn't have the foggiest notion what the fabric might be. Jenny's clothing world was made up of wool and cotton and an occasional dressy silk.

  Ky seemed to move in a chiffony cloud, material so soft that it floated about her in seductively clinging wisps.

  What would you cal it—a pants suit? Some pants suit. It was red, but not glaringly so; it had a muted quality.

  The long- sleeved top hung free over a deep purple halter with thin straps. Her high-heeled sandals were the exact same red of the outfit.

  Her gleaming black hair hung loose, tucked up on one side by a red comb, cascading almost to her waist. She obviously used makeup to enhance her considerable beauty, and used it expertly, so that the observer was not aware of the makeup, only of the beauty. She wore a long gold chain that dangled a gold-set ruby tantalizingly between her smal but sumptuously molded breasts, and tiny, ruby stud earrings. The effect was one that no amateur, even with an unlimited budget, could ever achieve without expert assistance. Jenny felt, quite simply, total y bland.

  She listened to the velvety voice promising to show Christy through the shop as soon as her fashions were in place, tel ing her about a new line of tennis wear, promising to introduce Rick to a friend who was one of the leading contenders for the U.S. Olympic running team. How had she learned so much about their children?

  She and Larry must have spent much more time together than an encounter in the office and a thirty-minute ride from Boston to Wel esley.

  As they reached the BMW, Larry opened the door to the passenger side. There was an awkward pause. Two women and one bucket seat. Jenny pushed the seat forward and climbed in back.