An Indecent Marriage

by Doreen Owens Malek

Jessica hesitated.

  “It’s all right,” Maddy said, eyeing her seriously. “I know I used to have a black belt in gossip, but I’ve retired it. Even I had to grow up sometime. Hey, come on, you know I’m trustworthy. I never told anyone about you and Jack,” she concluded piously.

  “That’s right, you never did.”

  “Well?”

  “Jack can’t know about this,” Jessica warned.

  “He won’t hear it from me. He hardly speaks to me anyway. I think he suspected I was in touch with you back then and wouldn’t tell him where you were.”

  “I’m sorry if he blamed you for any of it.”

  Maddy waited expectantly.

  Jessica began the story and soon the words tumbled over each other in their rush to get out and be heard. Her mouth was dry when she finished the monologue, which Maddy had received in uncharacteristic silence. Jessica had taken a sip of her iced tea before she looked up at Maddy and realized that her friend’s dark eyes were filled with tears.

  “What a tragedy for you,” Maddy whispered. “For both of you. Poor Jack.”

  “I would never have left him otherwise, Maddy. You have to understand that.”

  “Of course I understand,” Maddy said soothingly. “It makes perfect sense now.” She patted Jessica’s free hand.

  “And to see him after all this time, it’s so hard, especially under these circumstances. It’s breaking my heart, Madeline.”

  “Well, you have to tell him,” Maddy said, outraged, as if there were no other possible course of action. “You have to tell him the truth right now, all of it, before things get any worse.”

  Jessica shook her head sadly. “He wouldn’t believe me. You don’t know him, how bitter, remorseless he’s become. He bought my father’s story, and we both know how convincing George Portman could be. He warned me he would tell Jack something to make sure he wouldn’t follow me, and that’s exactly what happened. Jack would think I was making my story up to excuse what I did.”

  “Then get proof of what really happened! Show it to him.”

  “How?” Jessica asked despairingly. “Dr. Carstairs is dead, my father can’t even talk, and the last thing on earth my ex-husband would do is help me. After I lost the baby he wanted to continue the marriage, and I...refused. The divorce was not amicable. He felt used, as he certainly should have, and I haven’t heard a word from him since I moved out of his place. I think if I approached him about this he would slam his door in my face.”

  “How about hospital records?” Maddy asked logically as the waitress deposited their salads on the table. “They would show the date of the miscarriage, wouldn’t they?”

  “Jack would say the baby was Arthur’s,” Jessica answered quietly.

  Maddy’s eyes widened.

  Jessica nodded. “I’m sure my father told him that I was sleeping with Arthur while I was seeing him. Jack hinted as much, and it would be just like my father to play on that insecurity. Jack always felt that he didn’t quite measure up, that someone more ‘suitable’ would be better for me in the long run. My dear daddy told him exactly what he was afraid of, precisely what he would believe.”

  “Oh, Jessica,” Maddy said inadequately. For once in her life, words seemed to be failing her.

  Jessica turned her head to look out the window and watched an amber leaf tumble to the ground. “Can you imagine how he felt, believing that after he had been the first, I went on to someone else so quickly, as if what we had together was meaningless?” she said. “He thought I had treated him like some beautiful whore, having my fun with the local talent, but making sure to keep my hand in with the ‘proper’ choice Daddy would approve.” Jessica paused and pressed her lips together, striving for control. “My father knew just what to say,” she ended softly.

  “What are you going to do now?” Maddy asked, sniffling and fishing in her purse.

  “The best I can,” Jessica said simply. “I’m meeting with Jack at Ransom’s office on Friday to finalize the deal.”

  Maddy came up with a tissue and blew her nose. “That’s one of the saddest stories I’ve ever heard, and to think it happened to you,” Maddy said. “I don’t know how you can stand it.”

  “I suppose you can get used to anything,” Jessica replied.

  “Maybe what’s happening to your father now is a tradeoff for the way he interfered in your life,” Maddy mused aloud.

  “Jack engineered it,” Jessica said. “It was his plan from the beginning.”

  “Maybe he is just the instrument of fate,” Maddy said.

  “Jack wouldn’t like to think so,” Jessica replied quietly. “He takes great pride in the success of his clever little scheme.”

  “Then his turn will come, too,” Maddy observed, and Jessica felt a chill.

  “Do you think it works like that?” she asked. “We eventually pay, in some fashion, for the wrong we do?”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes I wish it were true. Your father really messed things up for you, didn’t he?”

  Jessica nodded silently, her eyes on the beveled glass she held.

  “For Jack too,” Maddy said. “You have no idea what he was like when you left.”

  Jessica looked up at her.

  “He was devastated, Jessica. He turned wild. I mean, he’d always been difficult, but this was something else. Nobody could figure out what the hell was wrong with him, because they didn’t know about you two. I did, but I couldn’t help him. He was beyond reach. He cracked up so many cars the cops took away his driver’s license. Fist-fights, brawls at games, you name it. Every form of self-destructive behavior in the book. It got so bad eventually they had to kick him off the baseball team. Football season was over by then, or he probably would have lost his scholarship. The grand finale was his dive through a plate-glass window, resulting in twenty stitches and a broken arm.”

  “Another fight?” Jessica asked, sickened.

  “What else? Jack was in the hospital for a couple of weeks. Didn’t you see those scars on the bridge of his nose, his chin?”

  “I thought he got those playing in the pros,” Jessica said softly.

  Maddy shook her head, pursing her lips. “He was a mess when he came back to school, black eyes, wrist cast, gauze bandage on his head, the works. They were worried about the mobility of his hand at first. The people at Notre Dame must have been concerned about their bonus baby’s performance that fall. But he came back to play as well as ever.”

  Jessica was silent. While all this was happening to Jack, she had been getting married, suffering a miscarriage, getting divorced. Not exactly having a great time herself, but Maddy’s description of Jack’s torment was appalling.

  As if reading her mind, Maddy said, “I never saw anyone in such pain, Jessica. He wouldn’t talk to me. In fact he avoided me. I think the memories connected with you were too much for him to bear. They still must be. He’s barely civil when he sees me.”

  “I never knew he took it so hard,” Jessica whispered. “I assumed he would be unhappy for a while, but I thought he would get over it, go on to date other girls, you know. He was so handsome.”

  “You didn’t give him much credit,” Maddy said reprovingly, remembering her lunch and picking up her fork. “Did you think he loved you any less than you loved him?”

  “I had no choice, Maddy. My father would have prosecuted Jack, I’m sure of it. I couldn’t stand by and see him go to jail, could I?”

  “Certainly not,” Maddy said crisply.

  “Oh, God, I hurt him. I hurt him so badly,” Jessica whispered.

  Maddy couldn’t disagree.

  “He’ll never forgive me.”

  “Never is a long time. Don’t be so sure.”

  “I am sure. After last night I’m very sure.”

  Maddy paused with a cherry tomato halfway to her mouth. “Last night?”

  “I had dinner with him.”

  “You didn’t tell me that,” Maddy said accusingly.

  “I’m telli
ng you now.”

  “Jessica,” Maddy inquired cautiously, “are you still in love with him?”

  “Of course,” Jessica replied. “There was never any question about that.”

  “I see,” Maddy said, looking at the ceiling. “In that case, you’re going to need your strength.” She tapped the edge of Jessica’s plate with her fork. “Eat. You’re appealingly thin, but a few more pounds and it’s going to be high-fashion time. And those models only look good on magazine covers. In person they look like Famine on horseback.”

  Jessica picked up a lettuce leaf and nibbled at it.

  “Oh, very good,” Maddy said sarcastically. “Everyone knows lettuce is such a rich source of calories.”

  Jessica seized a roll from the wicker basket on the table and took a large bite, chewing energetically.

  “That’s better,” Maddy said with satisfaction. “And we’re both going to have cherry cheesecake for dessert. It’s fantastic here.”

  “Whatever you say, Coach,” Jessica replied. She worked on the roll dutifully for a few minutes, and then asked, “Maddy, did you know that Jack was dating Daphne Lewis?”

  Maddy looked up from her plate and eyed her narrowly. “Who told you that?”

  “Jean saw a picture of them in the newspaper.”

  “Your sister is keeping tabs on Jack?” Maddy asked, fork suspended in midair.

  Jessica shifted uncomfortably. “I gather she reads the society column or something, and she noticed the item. She thinks he’s...interesting.”

  Maddy nodded. “Well, I can’t disagree with her. He’d be interesting anywhere, but in this slow burg he’s downright fascinating.”

  “So it’s true?”

  Maddy shrugged. “Even if it is, I wouldn’t worry about it. Jack could never be serious about Daphne.”

  “Why not? She’s pretty and very friendly. You remember her, don’t you?”

  “I remember that she was an airhead, and I have reason to believe that she still is.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Jessica, she’s our age and she’s been married three times. Doesn’t that suggest to you a certain...flightiness?”

  “Maybe she’s had back luck.” Jessica, herself the recipient of some major doses of ill fortune, found it difficult to assign blame for a checkered past.

  “And bad judgment. I heard she married some guy she’d known only two days because she liked his car, for heaven’s sake.”

  “And where did you hear that?”

  “Mary Beth Canfield,” Maddy replied, grinning.

  “Now there’s a reliable source,” Jessica said.

  “Mary Beth’s mother goes to church with Daphne’s aunt, and she said—”

  “Please,” Jessica interposed, holding up her hand to stem the flow. “Spare me. I’m sorry I ever brought up the subject.”

  “You brought it up because you’re afraid Jack has something going on with Daphne,” Maddy said. “And I’m telling you I’d bet money he doesn’t. Nothing of consequence, anyway. Jack has better taste.”

  “I wish I was as certain about him as you are,” Jessica said quietly. “He’s changed so much.”

  “He’d have to have a lobotomy in order to fall for Daphne Lewis,” Maddy observed with finality. Then she smiled roguishly. “Remember that Christmas pageant when we got stuck in the row behind her on the choir stand? And she was wearing that awful perfume that was making you sick?”

  Jessica groaned. The memory came rushing back at her: the stifling heat of the choral gown, with its heavy folds and starched, tight collar, the press of many bodies grouped together on the rise of the bleachers and the cloying, overwhelming scent of Daphne’s jasmine perfume, filling her nostrils and choking off her air. The memory of the dizziness and churning stomach was so vivid she almost felt it again.

  “I saw a bottle of the stuff in her locker later,” Jessica said dryly. “It was called Winds of Nature. Waves of Nausea was more like it. The pageant came very close to a surprise performance from me that night.”

  Maddy was toying with her spinach leaves. “I just thought of something. You were pregnant then and didn’t know it. That’s why the smell was bothering you so much.”

  Jessica met her eyes, then looked away, realizing that what Maddy said was true. It was the last thing on earth that would have occurred to either one of them at the time. Had they really ever been that young?

  “So tell me about your job,” Maddy said brightly, shifting lanes with alacrity. “What exactly do you do over there?”

  “Well, I represent an Italian leather manufacturer who deals almost exclusively with American retail buyers. They place orders for shoes and handbags and such, and then my company fills the orders and ships the merchandise directly to the States. I’m bilingual, so I’m sort of the go-between, translating for both parties.”

  “I guess all the language lessons at those fancy schools finally paid off, huh?”

  Jessica nodded. “That’s how I got started. When I was divorced I took a job at the New York office of the importer, and when they found out I could speak Italian I got involved in the overseas traffic very fast. One thing led to another and here I am.”

  “It should happen to me,” Maddy said, sighing. “The closest I’ll ever get to Italy is a travel folder.”

  “Want to trade?” Jessica inquired quietly, and Maddy met her gaze, sobered.

  “Things are pretty bad, aren’t they?” she asked flatly.

  Jessica didn’t answer.

  “Are you on vacation now, or what?” Maddy went on. “When do you have to get back?”

  “Officially I’m on a leave of absence, but it can’t go on indefinitely. I have a feeling if I don’t call soon and say I’m on my way, my position is going to be in jeopardy.”

  “Well, maybe you’ll get some good news Friday,” Maddy said hopefully.

  “Maybe,” Jessica said, unconvinced. It would take a miracle and she was long past believing in those.

  The two women finished lunch and left together, promising to keep in close touch. When Jessica arrived back at the house the phone was ringing, and she rushed to answer it, leaving the door ajar. It was Dr. Schmitt, reporting that the new medication was working and her father’s condition had stabilized. He was still semiconscious, but for the first time Schmitt ventured the opinion that he might recover fully in time. Jessica had known this in the back of her mind, but hearing him say it made her finally realize that her father’s convalescence would be lengthy. He would probably require close supervision, and she had no way to take care of him.

  After she finished talking to the doctor she got up and shut the door, returning to the living room to place a call to a local real-estate agent. She had been delaying listing the house, hoping that something, anything, would happen to make the move unnecessary. The money from the sale would be minimal, but she had to begin somewhere. She sat with the receiver in her hand, wondering which agency to use, when Jean came through the front door. Jessica hung up guiltily, as if she had been about to do something underhanded. Maybe she had. Jean had no idea how really grave the situation was, and perhaps she wasn’t doing her sister a favor by misleading her about it, minimizing her fears. The truth, when it came, would be hard.

  “I thought you said you had practice after school,” Jessica greeted her.

  “Miss Aynsley was sick, and her assistant couldn’t take over the squad,” Jean replied. “They just rescheduled it for later. How’s Dad?”

  “Good news. The medicine is working and his condition has stabilized.”

  Jean sighed with relief. “Does that mean he’ll be moved to a regular room?”

  “The doctor said he would be moved in a few days if he continues to do better.”

  Jean nodded. “Great. I’m going to get a drink. You want one?” she asked as she headed for the kitchen.

  “No, thanks. There’s a carton of orange juice in the refrigerator. I picked it up while I was out earlier.”

&nbs
p; Jessica glanced back at the phone after her sister had left and decided to put the call off one more time. Then she rose and went up to her bedroom to change her clothes.

  * * * *

  Friday dawned cloudy and blustery, a precursor of true winter, which was well on its way. Jessica donned a yellow wool dress, the color of lily pollen, and borrowed Jean’s dark green duffel coat, as her sister had worn her cheerleading jacket to school. After years in Italy’s mild climate, Jessica had no warm outerwear of her own. She got into the rental car with mixed feelings, anxious to hear the final word on the deal, but nervous about seeing Jack again. His behavior on their evening together had warned her of a difficult time to come.

  He was waiting for her in Ransom’s office, dressed casually this time in tan cords and a thick eggshell-colored turtleneck. He stood up as she came into the room and took her coat as she slipped out of it. Ransom hurried in behind her, greeting both of them absently, carrying two string-tied accordion folders. He opened these, spreading their contents on his desk.

  “Now let’s see,” he muttered to his two companions, who watched him soberly. Neither of them had uttered a word.

  “I just have to add up this last column of figures,” the lawyer went on as Jessica turned aside, too restless to stand still. Jack followed her with his eyes as Ransom punched numbers on his calculator, pausing to make notes, and then ripped off the slip with the total.

  “Now this takes into account the facility itself, with all the machinery, the inventory on hand and the goodwill,” Ransom said. He read the figure to Jessica. “And it’s a very fair buyout offer, I might add,” he concluded.

  “Offer?” Jessica said bitterly. “Do I have any choice about selling?”

  “No. Mr. Chabrol now owns fifty-one percent of the stock.”

  “So let’s call it what it is,” she stated. “A takeover.”

  The lawyer glanced nervously at Jack, who was receiving her comments impassively.

  “Where do I sign?” Jessica asked. “I want to get this over with now.”

  Ransom looked at her for a second, then said, “I’ll be just a minute.” He went out of the room to dictate a letter of intent to his secretary. Jack, still silent, moved next to Jessica, studying her face.