“Reasonable isn’t in your vocabulary,” Bill scolded her. “Not as far as work is concerned. Your work isn’t compatible with that word,” nor her style. She gave everything she did two thousand percent, and it showed in the results. That was why her clients loved her the way they did, and needed her so much. They all claimed they couldn’t do what they did without her. She knew that wasn’t true, they had the talent, but she fine-tuned it for them and put it in sharper focus. And it was always nice hearing their praise. Mrs. Vreeland had said it about her too, that she had the best eye of anyone she knew, particularly for someone so young. She had an instinctive sense of what was right for each designer’s collection and was able to home in on each one’s unique style, without borrowing from anyone else.
“Will you please try to slow down a little?” Bill begged her when they left the appointment. She’d been given a prescription for prenatal vitamins and iron pills, which the doctor had warned her might upset her stomach, but she felt fine so far. She had none of the symptoms of pregnancy yet, which was why she hadn’t suspected it sooner, and she’d been too busy to notice the missed period. She hoped she’d continue to feel well, she didn’t want to get behind on her work, although she promised Bill that she would rely on Azaya more than she had, if her clients were amenable to it. And she would ask Nelson to come in more often too.
“I don’t care what they want,” Bill growled at her. “This baby is too important to us.” And just as he had known would happen, it had come at the right time, for both of them. They were ready, he had graduated, all he needed now was a church, and in the meantime he was keeping busy with his chaplaincy work at the hospitals and women’s jail. He had a gift for talking to people, with understanding and compassion, and making them feel that someone cared. He was holding church services at the jail now and was surprised at how many women came. He wanted to start a group for abused women, which in most instances was related to their crimes. He was nonjudgmental about how they’d gotten there and already knew many of the inmates by name. He had just gotten a request to start working at the men’s jail as well and was looking forward to it.
After the doctor’s appointment, Bill went to one of the hospitals where he was doing relief work for a minister who had been sick for several months, and Jenny went to meet a new client, a young Swedish girl who had enormous talent and was going to show her first collection during Fashion Week in the fall. Jenny was helping her put the show together to get the greatest impact on the runway. It was exciting to work with her right at the beginning of her career. She could really make a difference for her, and gave her great advice. They spent most of the day together, and she stopped in to see David Fieldston briefly after that. He had added two new looks to the line he was showing in September and wanted to know what Jenny thought about them. She told him they were incredible, although she suggested modifying the silhouette of one of them to give it a cleaner line. They pinned the sample he was working on, and it looked better immediately. She left his office at six o’clock and went back to her own.
“You’ve been a whirlwind today,” Azaya commented as she handed Jenny a stack of work and messages the minute she sat down at her desk. It was a typical day in the life of Jenny Arden, and she tried to remember that she was supposed to slow down. But when, and how?
She hadn’t had time to eat since a slice of toast for breakfast, and she had a slight headache when she left her office at eight o’clock, trying valiantly to finish before nine, for a change. And she took a stack of work with her in two shopping bags, which were heavy as she got into a cab. She looked exhausted as she came through the door of the apartment, and Bill glanced up from the letters he was opening. They all said the same thing they had for the past seven months. They would love to have him but there were no positions open at their churches, and they would let him know if anything changed. He looked discouraged and lay back against the couch, with the letters still in his hand. She was relieved he hadn’t mentioned Wyoming again, especially now. She didn’t want to give up her career and have a baby in the wilderness somewhere. She was glad Bill hadn’t pressed the point. Staying close to New York, even if it meant taking longer to find a job as minister, was a sacrifice he was willing to make for her.
“I wanted to take you out to dinner tonight to celebrate,” Bill said, sounding disappointed, but he could see how tired she was. They settled for a salad in their kitchen instead. He opened a bottle of champagne and poured them each a glass. The doctor said she could drink in moderation, but she only sipped the sparkling wine. She still had the headache she’d had when she left work. They talked about their days over dinner, and Bill couldn’t help thinking how different his life was from what it would have been if he had continued to practice law at the family firm. He liked this so much better. And after dinner, Jenny went to work at her desk with the two shopping bags full that she’d brought home. She didn’t finish until one A.M. Bill had fallen asleep on the couch.
She woke him gently, and he followed her into the bedroom, pulled off his clothes, went to brush his teeth, and slid into bed next to her. He gave her a sleepy look and pulled her into his arms, feeling her long lean body against him. He could hardly wait until he could feel their baby in her belly between them. It still seemed unreal to both of them. It was hard to believe that in only seven months there would be a little person living with them. Jenny had already realized they would have to move to a bigger apartment. They had two bedrooms now, but she used one of them as a home office, and she couldn’t give it up.
There were going to be so many changes in their life, but it felt totally right to both of them. She wanted to tell her mother but hadn’t had time all day to call her. She was going to wait as long as possible to tell her clients. She didn’t want to make them nervous, or have them think that she would no longer be available. She fully intended to manage having both a family and her work, and knowing her, Bill was sure that she could do that, with efficiency, creativity, and grace. It was all going to work out just fine.
They decided to go to Maine instead of Martha’s Vineyard for a week’s vacation mid-August. They stayed at a tiny bed and breakfast, drove around the area, and rented a sailboat for two days. It was one of Bill’s passions—he had sailed since he was a boy. Jenny had never sailed until she married Bill, it wasn’t part of her experience, growing up with her mother and grandmother, but she had come to enjoy it a lot. He made her wear a lifejacket as she wasn’t a strong swimmer. But she never got seasick, and she trusted him completely. They talked about the baby as they walked through small quaint towns and explored old cemeteries with touching inscriptions on the headstones. They stopped to look at two of them, a mother and infant who had been buried side by side, and near them the young widower, who had died only months later. It told a story of loss and love that brought a lump to Jenny’s throat and tears to Bill’s eyes.
“I always think that when people really love each other, they find each other again, in another life,” Bill said quietly. It touched her to hear him say it, and she thought he meant that people who loved each other would meet in heaven, like this young couple with their baby. She noticed that it had been a little girl, who died three days after she was born, and the mother the day before, probably due to some mishap at the birth. And the woman’s husband and baby’s father had followed shortly after. The young couple had been only eighteen years old and lived two hundred years before. Jenny liked what Bill had said, that they had all found each other in heaven, in a better life. It followed her belief system as well.
“I’m sure they wound up in heaven together,” Jenny said softly, holding Bill’s hand. She was haunted by the couple, and the story that the dates on the gravestones told. They had been so young.
But Bill’s idea on the subject was subtly different from hers. “I think if you really, really love each other, you get another chance. I don’t think even death can keep you apart,” he said in a firm voice, keeping her hand in his, as she turned to lo
ok at him in surprise. He had never said anything like it to her before. It went beyond their traditional views to something more.
“You mean like you come back and find each other again in this life?” she asked him, looking startled, and he nodded.
“I don’t know why, but I’ve always believed that. I think true love lives on until the end of time, and you find each other again. If anything happened to us, I’m sure we’d find each other. It wouldn’t just end there. We were meant to be together, in this life or another. I knew it the first time we met. What we have is too strong to just die with us. I don’t think God would let that happen. We would find our way to each other again, even if we didn’t know it. Our story won’t be over for a long, long time.” What he said frightened her a little—she didn’t believe in the supernatural or reincarnation. She believed in the life they had, dying one day, and their spirits going to heaven. Coming back, to be together again, whether they knew it or not, or recognized each other, was too big a stretch for her, but Bill seemed very sure of it, as they walked away from the three graves. But if what he said was true, then had the young couple met again in another life? The theory was a little too “out there” for her.
“Well, let’s just stay alive in this life, so we don’t have to go looking for each other. I might not recognize you next time,” she teased him. “I’d rather we just stay together now.”
“So would I,” he said peacefully as they left the graveyard and gently closed the gate behind them. There were so many like it in New England, always so picturesque and so sad, no matter how long the people in them had been gone. He spoke quietly, as they walked back to the car. “I believe that our destiny is forever, not just for a short time, or even just this lifetime.” She nodded, listening to what he said, wishing it were true, but not sure it was. He seemed so certain, and his belief in what he said seemed so strong.
“I’m just grateful we have each other now,” she said gently. It was enough for her. She didn’t expect to have more than this life with him, and being with him was all she wanted. And with the baby growing inside her, their life seemed fuller than ever. They were both silent as they drove away and stopped at the next town for lunch. What he had said had left her pensive. They would never know if it was true, but it was something to think about.
“I told my brother about my theory once,” Bill said to Jenny at lunch. As he thought about it, he smiled. “He thought I was nuts. But they think that about me anyway. I never fit into the parameters of what they want from me—they always act disappointed.” It was true of his parents and his brothers, the only one who appreciated him just as he was, was Jenny. She was all he needed now, and their baby, when it was born. He had his own family at last. And Jenny felt the same way about him. He was everything she’d ever wanted and dreamed of in a man. Bill had never let her down, and she knew he never would. And as he liked to say to her, he loved her “until the end of time.” You couldn’t ask for more than that.
They drove around Maine and Vermont and spent a day in New Hampshire, visiting a college friend of Bill’s who was teaching at Dartmouth. He was fascinated by Bill’s decision to go into the ministry, and they spent a lovely day with him, his wife, and their three children, and after eight relaxing days in New England, Bill and Jenny drove back to New York. And then as it did every year, in the weeks before Fashion Week, all hell broke loose, and despite her promise to be careful, she was working eighteen-hour days, trying to satisfy all her clients, who would be showing their spring lines on the runways.
Venues got canceled, fabrics failed to appear, samples didn’t arrive, fittings went awry, models showed up stoned or missed their flights from other countries, production samples looked different from the original specifications, and Jenny was expected to help solve all of it, and she did a heroic job for every one of her clients, most of whom were hysterical by the Labor Day weekend. And by the time Fashion Week actually arrived, with runway shows scheduled back to back, the press watching them all closely, and everyone’s nerves rubbed raw, Jenny had lost five more pounds even though she was pregnant, and looked exhausted. She promised herself and Bill that she’d take a few days off to relax when it was over.
Her three most important clients showed their spring lines in the first two days, and two of them were smash hits and got rave reviews from the press. The third client, a new one for Jenny that season, had made too many changes at the last minute, and the press called the collection weak and indecisive, and Jenny thought they were right. She hadn’t been able to convince the client to stick with his original inspiration, which had been stronger and had had an exotic Asian theme she liked. Some of her favorite young designers had shown their wares that season, although none of them were her clients. She tended to work with bigger designers, or brand-new ones who had money to spend to establish themselves faster. Some of the young ones she liked had come up through the ranks and were greatly respected. And they brought in their wake a group of young artists and followers who added color to the show.
It was a scene every time Fashion Week happened. She had seven clients doing runway shows that season, two of them on the last day, and she was running like a maniac, and so were Nelson and Azaya. Everything had gone smoothly so far, and Bill came to every show and was impressed with the quality of their work, and Jenny’s, to showcase it for them and maximize their talent. He thought that particular season was the best she had ever done. She was three months pregnant on the day of the last runway shows. No one could tell, and she hadn’t announced it, not even to Azaya. She was thinner than ever and had had no symptoms of the pregnancy, just occasional exhaustion because she’d been working so hard for the last two months. She had told her mother about the baby, and like Bill, Helene urged Jenny not to work too hard, and take it easy, which she promised to do, right after Fashion Week was over.
She stopped in at two parties that night, on the way home, one at a glamorous apartment on Fifth Avenue, at the home of a major designer, and the other in a loft in the East Village, given by the young Swedish designer, whose runway show had gotten rave reviews from the critics, thanks to Jenny. And when she got home, she nearly crawled into the apartment, she was so tired. Bill had gone home hours before and had skipped the parties. He was doing a six A.M. service at the men’s jail these days, and he didn’t have Jenny’s endless energy and drive, even when she was pregnant. He was already in bed when she got home. And after unwinding for a little while, she got into bed with him and cuddled up beside him. The week had been a resounding success. She always felt so lucky. For a little girl from Philadelphia, and Pittston before that, which was barely on the map, and where her life had begun in poverty, she had become the toast of the fashion industry in New York, a key player, and at the eye of the hurricane that was fashion. Where she was now had been hard earned, and she loved every minute of it.
She went to sleep that night, thinking of the last two shows she’d done that day, and anxious to see the press on them in the morning. Bill didn’t stir when she got into bed—until he heard her moan just after four in the morning. He thought she was having a nightmare, and still half asleep himself, he rubbed her back and started drifting back to sleep, when she moaned again, louder this time. It was a long slow, growl of pain, and then he heard her say his name in the dark, and she sounded breathless.
“Bill … I can’t move … I’m … it’s so bad … make it stop.” He heard her crying and came awake immediately. He propped himself up on one elbow, and then turned on the light. She was curled into a ball, with her entire body tensed. She had her back to him, and he gently tried to turn her over so he could see her, but the moment he tried to do that, she let out a scream.
“What’s happening … Jenny … talk to me.” Her face was sheet white, and her lips were gray. He pulled the covers away instinctively, so he could see her body, and there was blood everywhere in the bed. She was smeared with it, as she clutched her stomach. It looked like someone had been murdered, and Jenny loo
ked like she was dying. He fought his own panic and tried to speak to her calmly. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay. Everything is going to be fine.” He wasn’t even sure she knew what was happening, or that she was bleeding. She was in so much pain, she was almost incoherent, and her body was rigid as she braced herself against an avalanche of contractions. He turned away from her, picked up the phone, dialed 911, and asked for an ambulance. He said his wife was hemorrhaging and told them she was three months pregnant. He knew as he looked at her that there was no way the baby could have survived it, and all he wanted now was to save Jenny. He wanted to tell the operator it was a matter of life or death, but he didn’t want to scare Jenny if she heard him. She looked like she was dozing or slipping into unconsciousness, and he shook her and told her to talk to him while they waited for the ambulance.
Her eyelids looked too heavy for her to keep open, and her face was getting grayer by the minute. Their bed was filled with blood, and he was covered with it now too, as he ran to grab a towel, wiped it off his legs and hands, and put on his clothes, while still trying to rouse her. The ambulance arrived eight minutes later, and the paramedics rushed into action. They put her in a pressurized inflatable bodysuit to try and slow the bleeding, ran an IV into her arm, and had her on a gurney and out the door in less than two minutes. Bill pounded down the stairs behind them and jumped into the ambulance next to her before they could stop him. They had the siren on, and Jenny was no longer conscious as they drove through the city careening around corners with all lights flashing. They took her to Lenox Hill Hospital and rushed her into the emergency room, where they asked Bill for her blood type, cross-matched her immediately, and gave her a transfusion on the way to the operating room. A doctor shoved a clipboard at him and told him where to sign the surgical release form, and gave him a serious look as Bill handed it back to him, all within seconds.
Until the End of Time: A Novel Page 6
