"Big wedding or small?"
"Small." Jill let herself be led over to the racks of garments.
"Formal or informal?" the saleslady wanted to know.
"There'll just be a few of us," Jill said carefully. She had really meant to buy a party dress, one that could be used over and over. She did not think of it as something that would be folded carefully and put away for a daughter.
"White?"
Jill shrugged. "It's very informal."
And then she saw it, a soft dress of peach silk crepe de chine with delicate bouquets on it of red, white and teal.
"That's the one," she said promptly. "It's been waiting for me."
The saleslady gave her an odd look. "That just came in this morning. The buyer thought of it as a bridesmaid's dress."
"I'll try it on."
"It's unusual for the bride," the saleslady said.
Jill headed for the dressing room. It was to be an unusual wedding, to say the least.
Late Thursday evening, Mrs. Hughes summoned Jill to the phone. She looked like the cat that swallowed the canary; but refused to divulge the caller's name.
Derek! Jill picked up the phone reluctantly, almost tempted to disconnect, but she could not. "Hello?" she asked in a soft, hesitant manner.
"Shopping all finished?"
For a moment she did not recognize the voice, and then it came to her. "Simon?" It occurred to her that she had spoken his name but once before.
"Did you expect someone else?"
"N—no." Everything about him, or even pertaining to him seemed to make her stutter. "Where are you calling from?"
"My hotel. New York. All ready for the big event?"
"I think so."
"Packed?"
"I'm doing that now."
"Good. I spoke with Jay. He has your passport, the works. He'll pick you up first thing in the morning, nine o'clock and then drive out to the airport. I expect to be in by nine-thirty. It's snowing there I heard. How is it?"
"Pretty heavy."
"Well, I hope the runways are cleared by morning."
"I hope so, too." She felt tongue-tied, unable to think of a bright thing to say.
"You have everything?"
"I think so."
"Good. Are you feeling all right?"
"Fine," she said.
"Not scared?"
"Scared?" She managed a slight laugh. "No. Should I be?"
It was his turn to laugh. "No, maybe I should be."
She could think of nothing to say.
"Well," he went on, after waiting a moment, "See you tomorrow."
"Okay." She felt acutely uncomfortable, although she couldn't say why. Perhaps his voice, intimate and soft, frightened her. She had the strange feeling that she expected him to say something romantic, or even that he was looking forward to seeing her. She heard the disconnect and replaced the receiver slowly.
Mrs. Hughes peered at her from the parlor. In the background she heard the sound of the television set. Jill gave her a big smile as she passed the room on her way back. "Thanks, Mrs. Hughes." She had asked the landlady to be a witness at the wedding ceremony; Jay Wilhelm would be the other. She thought as she walked down the hallway, that their conversation had been hardly the kind that lovers should have had.
Theirs would be a queer sort of marriage, he patronizing, treating her like a child; she, knowing but afraid to face it, that from the moment she had looked at him, had surveyed his broad back as he stood at the window in the parlor on Tuesday morning, she had, quite simply, fallen in love.
She locked herself in her room. He can't even begin to love me, she told herself. He's worldly, traveled; he's been everywhere, done everything. I'm simply a little piece of flotsam he's picked up on the Chicago shore because he cared for my uncle. And he's stuck with me. It must be a pretty bitter pill to swallow. To protect my uncle's fortune, to protect me from myself, he's had to do what Wilhelm said he's resisted doing before. He's had to marry.
It snowed through the night but let up early Friday morning. The snow lay in thick drifts along the highway, and the plows were slow getting through. Wilhelm picked Jill up in the limousine late, and by the time they arrived at the airport, the plane had landed on the freshly plowed field. The snow had begun to fall once again.
The limousine pulled up near the entrance canopy to the Pan Am building.
"I'll get him," Jill said, jumping quickly out. Whatever there was, or wasn't, between them, she was going to act a proper fiancée who hadn't seen her lover for almost a week. The snow was falling heavily now. Simon Todd was waiting, under the canopy, his beige raincoat collar pulled up around his ears, and hatless. He saw her and ran toward her, enclosing her in his arms as the snow fell and swirled around them.
The thought came to her as he put his lips against hers, that he was acting, too, for Jay Wilhelm's benefit, but the thought was obliterated by his hungry kiss, by the way he gathered her close, pressing his body against hers, as if trying to erase all the accoutrements of civilization between them, her heavy coat, his raincoat and even the snowflakes that threatened to smother them. He released her suddenly, as if coming to his senses, and taking her by the hand, led her quickly back to the car.
Once inside, he shook hands with Wilhelm, and sitting back against the seat, put his arm squarely about Jill's shoulders and held her close.
"Looks as if you made it just in time," said Wilhelm, beaming.
Simon turned to Jill and cupped her face in his hand. "Red cheeks, red nose, an exotic flower about to freeze to death." He pulled her cap off and her hair cascaded down. "Your bridal gown under all that?" He regarded her shabby coat with amusement and then turned to Wilhelm. "Didn't you tell her to buy some clothes? Where's the fur coat?"
"I don't believe in wearing the skins of animals," Jill said, the first words she had spoken to him. "And anyway, it's warm in Manaus."
"That never stopped anyone before."
Wilhelm rubbed his hands together. "Well, everything's in apple pie order."
"Mrs. Hughes has agreed to be a witness," Jill told Simon. "I ordered a taxi for her. We'll meet at City Hall."
"Very efficient, indeed," Simon said. "What else have you accomplished?"
"I'm here," she told him coolly.
"Very efficient," Wilhelm echoed pleasantly. "How did you two meet anyway?" He seemed willing as the car made its way out of the airport, to be treated to a long story.
Simon hesitated before answering. He tightened his grip on Jill's shoulders, as if reminding her to be silent.
"It's complicated," he said at last. "As complicated as love at first sight can be, anyway."
"Oh, well," said Wilhelm, "I've heard of those things, but never believed they really happened." Then he launched into an endless story of how he had met his wife, about which Jill heard not a word. Locked in Simon's powerful grip, she felt turned to jelly. A series of small explosions seemed to have been set off, in her mind, her body, her heart. She stole a glance at Simon, but his face was rigid. He seemed to be concentrating wholly upon the story, yet there was no way of telling for certain.
Love at first sight. The words ran in her ears. Did he mean it, or was he a consummate liar? She had no way of knowing.
Chapter Four
"Well you look very beautiful," Simon stated with unconcealed admiration. Jill had changed from her boots to peach, high-heeled sandals in the corridor outside the judge's chambers where they were to be married. And she now stood before him, holding a small bouquet of pale roses given to her by Mrs. Hughes.
Simon was dressed handsomely in a double-breasted pinstripe suit, a slim, pale tie against a blue shirt giving him a worldly, slightly raffish look. She felt overcome with shyness as the judge chatted with them before the ceremony.
Then, suddenly, the judge became very solemn.
"Well, shall we begin?"
The words, to Jill, had a sudden, fatal ring. She looked for support to Mrs. Hughes, who, smiling encouragi
ngly, reached over and took the bouquet from her hands.
The ceremony had already commenced even while Jill was fighting the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. She tried to concentrate on the words spoken in the judge's soft monotone, but her mind seemed to be working on half a dozen levels.
It was Simon's response, clear, precise that brought her to. "Yes, I will."
And then the judge, asking her the question, and waiting as if for a century, for her answer. "Yes, I will," she rejoined, breathlessly.
Then a thin platinum band was slipped onto her finger by the tall, slender stranger she appeared to be marrying. At the last moment she remembered his ring. She wore it on the middle finger of her right hand. She slipped it off and taking his left hand in hers, fitted the ring to his finger, feeling him stiffen almost imperceptibly. It wouldn't need adjustment she realized with no sense of triumph.
The sonorous voice of the judge declared them to be husband and wife. "You may kiss the bride," he announced beaming, and Jill felt herself swept into Simon's arms for a brief kiss. Tears, unannounced and unexpected, started in her eyes. It was official, she told herself, that was why. Legal, binding. She had crossed the abyss, and there was never, never any going back. The tears slid, unchecked, down her cheeks.
Mrs. Hughes reached out and put her thin arm around Jill's shoulders. "Well, look at the child," she said. "She's crying." She produced a handkerchief and dabbed at the tears, and then at a few of her own.
Simon stood apart, amused, an unwilling witness to her tears. As usual, Jay Wilhelm took charge, shepherding them out of the judge's chambers into the marble corridor and onto the elevator. The sun was out when they reached the street, a brittle yellow sphere in a sapphire sky. The wind had died down, leaving the air alive with an exhilarating chill, the last Jill realized with a pang that was quite unexpected, she might ever feel.
"No more tears?" Simon asked, his tone mocking, as he handed her into the waiting limousine.
"Finished." Jill managed the pretense of a smile. She wanted to explain what had happened, but there was something about the way he had asked the question that stopped her. He appeared entertained by her behavior, as one would by a child who cried at a parade.
Their flight to Miami was scheduled for early afternoon. From Miami they would take a Bolivian Airlines flight to Caracas, and in Caracas, connect with a plane to Manaus. They would arrive in Manaus at about four in the morning.
On the way to O'Hare Airport, they stopped at the boarding house for her luggage. Jill also wanted to change into something more suitable for travel. Her room, bare now of the accessories that had accumulated during her year there, seemed strange and cold. Her luggage stood on the worn carpet, packed even down to Derek's doll which she had tossed in at the last minute.
Her travel clothes hung in the big, empty closet. For a moment, before changing, she stood quite still, trying to take it all in, or what was left of it. You were supposed to have memories, she told herself. Manaus was a world and a lifetime away. There might be times, lonely times, when she would want to recall the picture of this charming, homey room.
Mrs. Hughes tapped discreetly at the door.
"Your husband is waiting."
"Right there, Mrs. Hughes." Husband. Mrs. Simon Todd. She reached for the black watch plaid pleated skirt and white silken blouse. With them she would wear a black velvet blazer and black pumps. The ancient coat was being consigned to charity as were the boots and knit cap. Never again would she have to put on quadruple layers of anything. The short run to the limousine from the boarding house and again to the terminal at the airport were the last she need ever feel of winter cold.
She dressed hurriedly, packed the wedding dress and shoes and presented herself to Simon Todd and Jay Wilhelm in the parlor.
It was Simon's idea that Mrs. Hughes and Wilhelm accompany them to the airport since there was a short wait before the flight, enough time for a small celebration in the airport restaurant. Jill was happy for their company, and she was certain Simon felt the same way. She simply did not know how to act with this new husband of hers. There were a million questions she wanted to ask, questions that under ordinary circumstances would have been easily asked, and perhaps just as easily answered. Questions, that might have made the difference, though, the difference between their having gone through with the ceremony or not.
Jill sat quietly through lunch, touching nothing, certain that no one, not even Simon, would notice. Mrs. Hughes, gay and twittering from too much champagne, offered them toast after toast, as if theirs had been the culmination of a long, loving engagement, a marriage made in heaven. If Jill hadn't felt so odd and removed from it all, she might have thought the idea funny.
When at last it was time to board the plane, Jill hugged her landlady and made her promise to come to Manaus.
"Of course, dear," Mrs. Hughes said soothingly, as if it were indeed possible.
Then suddenly, she was seated next to the window in the jet and it began to move slowly out of the terminal onto the runway. Her heart began to beat rapidly as she realized she was trapped, with no way out.
"Would you like a pillow, Mrs. Todd?"
Jill, staring out of the window at the snowy landscape, paid no attention to the question.
"Jill, the flight attendant asked you a question."
She turned to Simon and then to the stewardess, who stood in the aisle with a pillow in her arms. Mrs. Todd. Of course. Just like in the movies. Suddenly Jill Carteret no more. Suddenly Mrs. Todd just like that. Mrs. Todd in name only. How soon we forget.
She smiled sweetly. "I'm sorry. I must have been daydreaming. Yes, a pillow would be fine." She took it and pushed it behind her head. When she looked back up in acknowledgement, she realized with a shock, that the stewardess had locked her eyes briefly with Simon's and then moved away. It was as clear to Jill as if their look had been flashed in technicolor on a giant screen. She had no need to turn to Simon for acknowledgement. In name only. He would continue to admire beautiful women, and women would continue to admire him.
The jet, its engines whining as if in agreement, began the ascent, and for a second Jill closed her eyes against a feeling of nausea. She shivered, and reaching up, adjusted the air vent.
"Cold?" Simon asked.
"No, I'm fine." Jill knew her answer sounded angry, and if she had been his wife for a week or a month or a year, he might even have been entitled to ask, "What the devil is wrong with you?"
She sighed. She was thinking too much and tired of it. Instead of luxuriating in the experience, she found herself feeling queerer than she had ever felt in her life.
She sat quietly, staring out of the window, trying to sort through her emotions, one by one. She wasn't sorry to see the city and the lake suddenly blotted out of her life for good and all, although perhaps somewhere deep inside, she was. Leaving the known for the unknown was a pretty courageous move.
Mixed into those emotions was another one which startled her with its potency. Impossible, she told herself, but she read it quite clearly. She was jealous. Jealous because a beautiful woman had locked eyes with her husband. Locked eyes. Looked at him with a blatant expression that said openly, "I want you. Never mind Mrs. Todd. I want you."
Jealous. Could it be? One can't be jealous about someone one doesn't know. Can one?
By now they were beyond the city and climbing ever higher, the white landscape below taking on the disconnected look of a topographical map. Jill stared downward without really seeing it. She had married an extraordinarily attractive man. It was all quite simple. She was going to have to share him with women of all sizes and shapes, women who would look at him openly or surreptitiously, any way they could, and she had better face it. And that he was going to reciprocate was quite clear, too.
How could she be in love and jealous, she wondered, when he was a complete stranger? She glanced down at the ring on his finger. He hadn't removed it. He hadn't, in fact, said one word about it, although she
remembered how he had stiffened momentarily, when she slipped it on his finger.
Who was he? When would she get to know him? Should she begin now?
"Simon?" she asked softly, "Are you awake?" His eyes were closed.
"Mmm."
"What time did you say we'd get to Manaus?" She knew perfectly well when, but she wanted to say something, anything.
"Four forty-five a.m." His eyes remained closed. He did not seem interested in talking.
"Oh." She leaned back against the pillow, trying to fight the odd feeling that he did not want to communicate with her at all, that he had written her off as a duty performed and to be forgotten. Since the ceremony, in fact, he had scarcely spoken more than a sentence to her. She concentrated on trying to remain calm. We don't know one another, she told herself. He thinks I'm an unsophisticated child, that's what. There's no way we can care for one another. Not two cents worth. I don't love him. Love at first sight doesn't happen.
The words, never far out of mind, haunted her. As far as the world is concerned, you're madly in love with me and I'm madly in love with you. Did the flight attendant know how madly in love they were?
She smiled to herself. Don't take it so seriously, she thought. It's simply a matter of convenience. We've done it to protect my uncle's fortune, to keep it out of the hands of all the gigolos in South America. To keep it intact for Simon and me, and for our children.
Our children.
She imagined herself in his arms. Their wedding night. They would have one, wouldn't they? The picture of the stewardess intruded. She couldn't predict the future, she decided, beyond the next ten minutes.
First class was half empty and except for the movement in the aisles as the flight attendants served drinks, Jill felt a luxurious stillness. They were above the clouds, and Simon might have gone to sleep. She settled against the pillow and stared out at the horizon. The engines droned on.
"Jill?" Simon's voice at her ear startled her. Jill realized she had been sleeping lightly, aware of everything that had gone on around her, yet sleeping nevertheless. Simon had his briefcase opened on his lap and was going through some papers.
In Name Only Page 5
