Hold Fast 'Til the Dawn

by Mary Haskell

  "Sorry. Not a one. Believe me, you have my sympathy— also my help if there's anything I can do. I feel rather responsible, since I was the one who kind of set up the reunion. Although I do think Ky was set on seeing you."

  "Oh, real y?" Larry had come to the same conclusion. It was pretty obvious that Ky had deliberately sought out a tax expert in the Boston office for the express purpose of seeing him. It should have put him off, but it had quite the opposite effect. It was very flattering to know that a woman as sensational as Ky would go to al that trouble to see him again after nineteen years. "You have nothing to blame yourself for Wil ," he said. "How could you have known? Besides, nothing is going to come of it. It's been a real belt in the gut to see her again, but al I need is a little time to get over the shock, and I'll be right back on track."

  Larry could tel by the look in Wil 's eyes that his words held no conviction. Wil stood and looked down at him for a moment, the worried expression stil in place. "Wel , I hope you're right. Jenny is a rare and wonderful person. I'd sure hate to see her get clobbered." He gave Larry a consoling pat on the shoulder, then walked to the door. "You'll find my door open any time, buddy, for any reason. No judgments or sermons, I promise. You may need someone to talk to."

  "Thanks, Wil . I appreciate it."

  "Sure. I wish I had the tonic you asked for." .

  "That would be helpful. Whoever started al the hoopla about how wonderful it is to fal head over heels in love, anyway?"

  Wil gave a derisive snort. "Those lyrics are not aimed at a man with a wife and children at home."

  "True."

  "See you later." Wil left, closing the door behind him.

  Larry paced the floor, tracing and retracing the pattern in the rug. He could scarcely believe he was the same person he had been a few short weeks before. He had felt so good about his life, so content with every aspect of it. Oh, he and Jenny had minor problems, trifling disagreements, but he was too much of a realist to expect perfection. By and large, he'd thought he had everything he wanted—until Ky reappeared. Now she burned a hole in his brain, seared his flesh with longing. Would it get better with time, or worse? It was a frightening question.

  Jenny shoved the last of her papers into the bottom drawer of her desk and slid the pens into their holder. The typewriter was covered and the room neat. She stood wearily, wondering why she bothered to straighten up.

  She could leave the house in shambles for al Larry would notice when he did get home. It was seven o'clock on Thursday evening. Rick and Christy had eaten and were in the family room watching TV. She had no idea when to expect Larry. He had worked late for three nights in a row, and had said nothing about his arrival time tonight. She had two steaks laid out and overbaked potatoes in the oven.

  She heard the garage door and ran into the downstairs bathroom to check her hair and dab on some lipstick, walking into the kitchen just as Larry entered. Dmitri ran in from the TV room and started wildly leaping around his beloved master. Jenny hung back, waiting for Larry to drop his briefcase as he always did and catch the little dog for a hugging hel o. But he only snapped impatiently, "Down, Dmitri!" Then he looked up and saw Jenny. "Hi. Where are the kids?"

  "In the other room, watching TV."

  "Nice. Can't they even come in to say hel o?"

  "They probably didn't hear you arrive."

  Dmitri, looking like the prototype of the whipped dog, skulked out of the room and headed back down the hal to join the children. Jenny felt like going with him. "Would you like a drink before dinner?"

  "Oh, I don't know. What's cooking?" He pul ed the oven door and glanced in at the overbaked potatoes.

  "Guess I'd better have a drink." He opened the door to the liquor closet. "Want anything?"

  "Yes."

  "What?"

  "How about a martini?"

  Larry's head jerked around, a look of amazement on his face. "Are you kidding? You never drink those. You'd pass out cold."

  "So? You'd never notice."

  He stood very stil , his back to her, looking down at his hands on the counter. "Jenny, please, let's not do this tonight. I've had a hard day, and it would be nice to just relax for the evening."

  "Al right. Mix me a scotch and water."

  He mixed two of them, handed her one, and headed for the living room. Jenny fol owed him and sat on the other end of the sofa, taking a sip of the bitter cocktail, wrinkling her nose at the taste. Larry looked over at her, smiling slightly at her grimace. "Jenny, you real y don't like booze, so why do you try to drink it?"

  "Because when I was growing up al the elegant people I met had cocktail hours and drank cocktails. I keep thinking that if I practice long enough I'll get the hang of it."

  Larry laughed. Such a pleasant sound. "You're a nut. Time has passed you by—or maybe it's more accurate to say that it's caught up with you. Al the elegant people now drink white wine. You can be a part of the scene without half trying. Why don't you let me get you a glass of wine so you can quit wrinkling your nose and enjoy our high- class cocktail hour?"

  "Okay." She surrendered her glass, glad to be waited on, to have even the semblance of coddling from her husband. She accepted the glass of wine grateful y, relaxing into the sofa. The mood between them had miraculously shifted, and they drifted into easy conversation about their plans to add a grape arbor to the back entrance of the gazebo. "Just think," Jenny enthused, "we may be making our own wine in a few years."

  "That's right." Larry set down his empty glass and picked up her ful one. He was drinking more than usual lately.

  "Hey, I talked to Gina today. We thought it would be fun if we went to Falmouth tomorrow night and had dinner at the Embers. Then we could spend the night on the boat and get an early start."

  Larry tugged at his tie. "Sure, okay. That sounds fine."

  "Do you stil wish we didn't have to go?"

  He stared at her, amazement on his face. "Where did you get that idea? I always want to go sailing. Honestly, Jen, you've been coming up with some strange notions lately." He stood. "I think I'll go get out of this suit before we have dinner." Without another word he headed up the stairs, leaving her open-mouthed.

  Jenny started to enjoy herself almost from the moment they picked up Gina and Joe. The camaraderie fel quickly into place, and even Larry soon joined in the banter and the exchange of corny quips. They had a delicious meal, accompanied by the cozy enjoyment of four close friends unwinding together. By the time they reached the harbor, there was a brisk, warm wind blowing. Joe volunteered to row out with the supplies, then come back for the others. "I'd better go with you," Gina interjected, "with four of us in this tub tonight, we're going to get soaked."

  "We're going to get soaked anyway," Joe corrected. "We should change into some old duds before we start but, No use ruining our good clothes."

  "It's nice and warm," Jenny offered. "Why not put on our bathing suits, then none of our other clothes wil be wet."

  "Ah, Jennifer," Joe replied happily, "always right there with the practical solution."

  Gina and Joe took their suits and retreated behind the boat-storage shed, and Larry grabbed Jenny's hand and led her to the side of a twenty-five-foot Maco that was covered, sitting on a trailer by the ramp. "Let's change in here."

  "Larry! That's breaking and entering, or something like that."

  "So who's going to prosecute? It belongs to Jim Samson. I can't quite see him dragging us to court for changing our clothes in his boat."

  "Wel , okay."

  Larry climbed up and loosened enough grommets to al ow them to crawl inside, then took the suits that Jenny handed up to him. "Okay, al set, give me your hand." He gave her a hoist and she crawled in after him.

  "I feel like a sneak-thief in the night."

  "Fun, huh? We haven't done anything crazy in a long time."

  They struggled out of their garments, giggling together over the awkwardness of maneuvering in that position.

  They heard Joe yel ,
"Hey, where are you?"

  Larry stuck his head out of the opening and shouted, "In here."

  "You nuts, I feel obligated to report you to the Board of Governors for unseemly behavior."

  "Oh, go row your boat."

  "I'll go row yours. Be right back. No hanky-panky while we're gone!"

  "Why not? We're married!" Larry yel ed after him. He turned around slowly, kneeling on the deck. Jenny could tel that he was looking at her, could feel his eyes in the dark. "Why not?" he repeated. "We're married."

  They were both stripped. Jenny held her suit in her hand, feeling a flush creep over her body.

  "Jen." She felt his hands caressing her body, gliding over her breasts, moving over the curve of her waist and hips. One hand slid between her legs.

  "Larry," she whispered, "we can't. Joe wil be back before we finish."

  "So what? He knows we make love. He'll wait."

  "Larry, please." But he was pushing her down, rol ing on top of her, his urgency apparent. Jenny felt powerless against this rampant need. She lay stil , wishing that their first coming together in over a week didn't have to seem so... tawdry. He reached a climax almost immediately, then rol ed off her. There were no love words spoken, no sweet nothings uttered as they pul ed on their suits. Whom had he built up al that need for? Bang.

  Another mind-door slammed shut. She was becoming an expert at closing off whole sections of her awareness, for the express purpose of survival.

  The tension created in that act pervaded the atmosphere. The funny flippancy drained away, and by the time they were settled for the night, they al communicated with the tentativeness of people who were uneasy with each other.

  When they awoke in the morning, the wind had picked up. Joe and the two women voted to stay close in and visit some of the harbors along the neck of the Cape. Larry, however, insisted that they couldn't let such a good stiff breeze go to waste. After checking the weather report on the radio he announced emphatical y,

  "Come on, you landlubbers, are you al chickening out on me? The wind is just right for a terrific sail to Nantucket. We don't want to miss a run like this one!"

  "Larry, are you sure?" Joe sounded worried. "If I didn't have the utmost faith in your seamanship and your common sense, I'd say this sounds just a little like teenage bravado."

  "Come on, Joe, you know me better than that. You heard the report—there's nothing out there to worry about.

  It'll be fun."

  Somehow he talked them into it, and they set sail for Nantucket. By the time they were a few hours out, Joe, Gina, and Jenny were so exhausted from the pounding they were taking that they insisted on shortening the run and going into the harbor on Martha's Vineyard. They spent the afternoon hiking about the island with a short-tempered Larry, who kept complaining about finding a more adventuresome crew. Jenny saw the looks of confusion and disbelief that passed between Joe and Gina, felt, the chil that descended on al of them.

  They ate a cheerless dinner at a local fish- house and sat silently as the harbor launch transported them back to their boat.

  The fol owing morning dawned clear and sunny, with just a pleasantly brisk breeze left over from the previous day's blow. But Larry, without consulting anyone else, set a direct course for home, standing straight, stil , and glum at the wheel for the entire journey.

  When they dropped the Greenes off at their house that afternoon, Joe cleared his throat and said, "Thanks for the weekend, you guys. It was great." Poor Joe, Jenny thought, he couldn't come right out and say how awful it was. His hesitant voice continued, "Look, about weekend after next, could we take a raincheck? Gina and I real y should take Jeff to New Jersey to see my folks; they've been after us to come."

  "Wel sure, we understand." Jenny watched Larry as he replied, processing what Joe had said. She could see that Larry had forgotten their plans to take the children and sail to Rockport that weekend, and that the significance of Joe's bowing out didn't even penetrate.

  When they got home she put everything away in the time that it took Larry to take a shower and unpack his few belongings. Rick and Christy came home shortly after they did, and Jenny was kept busy directing their clean-up operations. She final y got her chance to take a shower, and as she stepped out, feeling somewhat refreshed, she heard the phone ring and Rick's brisk "hel o." She closed the door to the bedroom to al ow herself the luxury of drying her hair in the nude. It was a hot afternoon.

  As soon as she had combed out her hair and donned a pair of shorts and a top, she descended the stairs, her sandals in her hand. It felt good to be barefoot. She could hear Christy's voice careening off the wal s at the near-screech it ascended to when she was excited. Jenny wondered what was up. She found out al too soon.

  "Mom, Mom, guess what, guess what!"

  Jenny smiled. "My, my, I can't, I can't."

  "Ky Kayle just cal ed. She's coming back to Boston in two weeks. She's invited me to come into town and have lunch with her and see al the yummy clothes at that store. Isn't that super? And than you and Dad and Rick are going to come in and we'll al have dinner together. She says she has a 'mystery guest' that Rick wil like a lot!" Christy bounced around the room, stepping on Dmitri's tail during the process, causing the little dog to emit a yip and dive under a chair for safety.

  What do I dive under? Jenny wondered, feeling her face freeze along with her heart. "How nice." Her eyes met Larry's across the room; his dropped hastily. "There's stil some good afternoon sun left," she announced, her tone even and steady. "I'm going outside to work in my garden."

  Without waiting for any further communications she hurried outside, got her spade and weeding tools out of the toolhouse, and plopped herself down on the soft green grass beside the perennial bed. She made short, desultory thrusts at the earth, slowly becoming aware that the thick mulch of buckwheat hul s had done its job of keeping the weeds out. "You don't real y need me either," she shot at the flower bed.

  She dropped the smal rake and sat, her arms hanging numbly from her shoulders, her hands extensions lying uselessly on her knees. She felt anesthetized. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Larry making his way across the lawn to her. She turned her head in his direction, watching listlessly as he approached.

  Who was this man coming toward her, this wel -built, flaxen-haired male? She had the sensation of observing a stranger.

  He towered above her, the expression on his face obscured by the blazing background of sun. "Jenny..."

  "What?"

  "I have the feeling you're unhappy."

  "How unbelievably astute of you."

  "Are you upset because Ky cal ed?"

  Jenny moved her eyes away from his face and stared vacantly at the artemesia spreading its soft silver foliage before her. "How dare she?" Jenny barely recognized her own voice, the tone was so leaden and lifeless.

  "How dare she seduce my children as wel as my husband?"

  "Jenny!" The retort held undisguised exasperation. "I think you're getting rather paranoid about Ky. She's just trying to be nice to a couple of kids."

  "Larry, please. Leave me alone."

  His feet shifted uneasily. He stared down at her, seemingly groping for words and finding none. His hand reached out to touch her head, then dropped, hanging limply at his side. With a weary stride, he retraced his steps to the house.

  Jenny sat, not moving, her jumbled thoughts twisting around like desert dust-devils. Was she getting paranoid?

  Larry had always been truthful and fair to her. Was she creating a problem where none need exist? Every fiber of her being wanted desperately to believe her husband, to accept his assurances at face value. She reached for that dependability with the fervor of a drowning man reaching for a life raft, grabbing hold with determined ferocity. And in so doing she shut off one more section of her brain, the part that included her reliably accurate instincts.

  Chapter Eight

  Larry stared through the window at the city of Boston spread out below him. He
watched a flotil a of smal sailboats on the Charles River, tiny triangles of white moving in concert. He had often stood there on clear days, taking a break from his absorbing work, but today was different. There was no enjoyment in the act; it was merely one more attempt to erase the mental pictures that haunted him, to drown out the whispering voice that inhabited his brain. He was a man possessed. Nothing he did stopped the constant longing, the unbelievable yearning. He cal ed Ky at least once a day, and she often cal ed him. He spent more time in conversation with her than he did with his own wife.

  He spun around, went to his desk, and pul ed a cigarette out of the pack lying there. He was smoking over a pack a day. His stomach was perpetual y upset, and he had a dul , constant headache. Quite a departure from the vibrant good health he was accustomed to. He sat on the edge of his desk, struck a match, and lit the noxious weed. He hated smoking, hated the smel and the mess and the dependency. Why was he doing it?

  Why was he doing a lot of other things that also made him feel slightly sick to his stomach?

  He was a man who loved orderliness. He liked his life, as wel as his business, run with a predictable, sane regularity. He expected himself to have the same qualities that he honored in other men: fairness, honesty, reliability, sensitivity. But he was out of control. He could no longer truthful y claim any of those. He had told Jenny so many bald-faced lies that he had lost track. It was difficult at times to remember what was true and what wasn't, or what story he had concocted to cover his bemusement. Worse than any of the rest was the rage he often felt toward her, simply for noticing his preoccupation or for asking him questions he couldn't answer. Almost everything she suspected was true, and yet her suspicions made him furious. He had not made love to Ky, but if there were sins of intent, there was no doubt of his guilt.

  Sometimes the desire to be back in the womb of his happy family life, with everything the way it was before Ky's return, was overwhelming. The next moment the desire to take up a new life with Ky was equal y overwhelming. What in heaven's name was he going to do? He slumped into his chair. One thing was certain: he sure as hel had better get some work done, or stil another part of his life would disintegrate.