Possessions

by Judith Michael

  "We really are old enough to walk home alone," said Jennifer. "But if it makes you happy, we'll wait."

  "It makes me haf^y," Katherine smiled. "Have a good time."

  "You too," Jennifer said. "Don't be home too late, though."

  Wondering what that meant, Katherine told Leslie about it

  when she arrived. But Leslie was not listening. Head cocked

  critically, she was scrutinizing Katherine in her new dress.

  "Well, well," she said at last, softly. "Very well indeed."

  The dress, found in the stockroom from last winter's Empire Room collection, reduced to one-eighth its original price, was of a timeless style and simplicity: a black cashmere sheath, as fine as silk, molding Katherine's slender figure, flared at the hem, long-sleeved, with a startlingly deep V-neck edged in tiny scallops. Two black silk cords wound twice around her waist, ending in long fringes reaching almost to the hem.

  But as elegant as the dress was, Leslie knew the real attraction was Katherine herself: eyes bright, face flushed as she studied her reflection, unconsciously standing straighter because the dress demanded it. Leslie gazed at the delicate lines of her friend's face and figure, disguised until now by worry or sadness, or the slouch of her shoulders, or clothes that had become too big for her when she lost weight after Craig disappeared. "Wonderftil," she murmured. "At least as a start. How about jewelry? You must have made a necklace in all those classes you've taken."

  Katherine shook her head. "I'm not ready to go public." "Well, then, the only thing left is makeup and your hair." "No!" Katherine stepped back. "Not now, Leslie. This is enough." Enough change, she thought, astonished and a little disconcerted at the difference one dress could make. Putting up her hand, she blocked the retlection of her face and looked only at her graceful figure, almost as regal as Victoria's. Lowering her hand, she met her own eyes, pleased and shining, in

  POSSESSIONS

  the mirror. She looked like a young girl, about to step into the outside world, instead of a thirty-five-year-old working woman with two children. And a husband, she added swiftly. And a husband.

  Leslie was watching her. "Enough change for one day," Katherine repeated. "It's only a party, after all; it's not so important."

  Leslie opened her mouth to argue, then nodded casually. "Fine by me. But I did bring my own contribution—" She opened a white box she had brought with her. "Just for tonight."

  "Oh, Leslie, I can't—!" Katherine began as Leslie took out her silver fox jacket and a black beaded evening bag.

  "Yes you can, lady; don't argue. If I want to feel like a fairy godmother, the least you can do is let me feel like one. Someday you'll even let me finish the rest of you."

  Katherine hugged her. "You make me sound like a piece of furniture—but thank you." Through the window, she saw Derek's car pull up. "Thank you, Leslie, you're wonderful," she said, grabbing the jacket and evening bag, and was out of the building before Derek reached the door. It was one of her rules: he was not to step inside her apartment. She had seen his grandmother's; she had heard about his. She was ashamed of her own.

  Norma Burton was celebrating her fourth divorce with a party for her closest friends. "How many does she have?" Katherine asked Derek. 'Two or three hundred," he answered, appraising the crowd as he checked Katherine's jacket in the cloak room. "If she likes you for more than ten minutes, she counts you in. Generous if not discriminating, and very much a child. Let me look at you." He took Katherine's hand and contemplated her. "Do you know that you are a beautiful woman?"

  She pulled her hand away. "No. I've never been beautiful. It would take more than a new dress..."

  "Much more. Color in your face, the way you stand and hold your head, your eyes... Have you looked in a mirror?"

  "Yes—"

  "At your eyes?"

  "Yes. Aren't we going to join the party?"

  He took her hand again and pulled her to him, lifting her

  POSSESSIONS

  chin. "Your eyes are magnificent: enormous and bright—" He paused. "And now they look alarmed, as if you've come to a precipice. What might you be afraid of? Come." He tucked her hand beneath his arm and led her to the ballroom. "I'll introduce you to Norma's grab bag of friends; they are, after all, the evening's entertainment."

  By the time dinner was over and dancing began, the faces and names had blurred, like drifting confetti. Everyone eyed Katherine with open curiosity, the glances moving from Derek's hand on her arm to her dress and then to her face. Everyone asked where she came from and, when she answered "Vancouver," how long she would be staying. Women maneuvered to see if she wore a wedding ring and, when they saw it, asked where her husband was. "On a business trip," she answered—so many times she began to believe it. Many of the guests asked familiarly about Derek's new apartment and one couple tried to talk about a shopping complex in Daly City they wanted him to bid on. "I'll be in my office on Monday," he said.

  "Is your apartment new?" Katherine asked. "I didn't realize that, when you told me about it."

  "About a year," he said. "I just finished putting it together. You'll see it once we get out of here."

  She shivered. She felt small and light, cut off from familiar things, as if she had become one of the bits of confetti in the room. She danced with Derek and talked to his friends, but none of it seemed real. She did not feel drab and insecure as she had at the Peruvian exhibit, but each time she was thoroughly inspected by one of Derek's friends, she wasn't sure it was really Katherine Eraser inside the cashmere dress.

  All evening, she felt Derek's closeness: his body guiding hers as they danced, his eyes watching her as she talked to others, his hand holding her arm when they walked across the room. "On a business trip," she said again and again in answer to questions, and she thought of Craig as she lied about him, as she moved smoothly with Derek to the music, as she said "Yes, of course," when Derek told her it was time to go.

  At the cloak room, a huge man, triple-chinned and balding, with dimples and curly gray sideburns, greeted Derek. "I'm told this is Katherine Eraser," he said, and held out his hand. "Herman Mettler. I understand you're a jewelry designer."

  POSSESSIONS

  Katherine saw in her mind a store she visited every chance she had, dreaming of her own jewelry in its mahogany-and-glass cases. "Mettler's," she breathed.

  'The very one." His voice rumbled like a bass fiddle beneath the high notes of the party. "You're new in town? Looking for a store?"

  "Yes, but how—?" .

  "One of my designers mentioned it. We're always looking for new work; it's possible we could find you a small space. Depending, of course, on what you have."

  "Of course."

  "Well, bring me your samples. A good selection; I don't make decisions on a handful and a promise. Make an appointment with my secretary; week after next. Derek, good to see you; hope you're well. Give my regards to Angela; lovely young woman. Mrs. Fraser, I'll see you soon, I suppose." And he was gone.

  Dazed, Katherine put on the jacket Derek held. She thought of Craig again. What would he say if Mettler took her jewelry? Would he still call it her little hobby?

  "Katherine," Derek said as they rode the elevator to the lobby.

  "What? I'm sorry; I was thinking—^"

  "Don't put too much faith in Mettler. He's not always reliable."

  "He didn't make any promises," she said. "So why would I put any faith in him?"

  "You were building castles, little one, and you know it. Just remember what I said."

  "I will. Who is Angela?"

  "An ex-wife."

  "Whose?"

  "Mine. Herman is a little slow; we've been divorced for six months."

  "He thought you were married? And at the party with me?"

  Derek was silent. "Let me tell you about my apartment," he said at last. "One of Hay ward Corporation's finest."

  He described it as they drove: part of a complex of buildings, some still under construction, at th
e base of Telegraph Hill on Lombard Street, behind the restored warehouses and new buildings of Levi Plaza. When his company was given the contract,

  POSSESSIONS

  Derek bought the top floor for himself, working with the architect to make one huge apartment instead of the two in the original plans. "Of course it's big enough for a tribal rain dance," he said as he led Katherine on a quick tour of the rooms, stopping in the kitchen to take a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator. "But it has its nooks. For instance—"

  He took her to a room enclosed on three sides with glass jalousies, furnished with tufted red velvet couches and armchairs, oriental rugs on a parquet floor, and brass lamps with fringed shades. It was an 1890s parlor—formal and overstuffed—but Derek had made it a joke by putting it in a starkly modem building. "Angela said it was decorated in early brothel," he said. "But she was only hoping."

  "Why did you get a divorce?" Katherine asked. Her head was against the back of the couch, the light from a fringed lamp flickering through the bubbles in her glass. Derek had had three divorces, according to Claude. I've been married almost eleven years, she thought; and divorce never occurred to me.

  "We were mistaken about each other," Derek answered. "What else ends a marriage? Angela thought she could reform me and I thought she was the only woman who didn't want anything from me. We were both wrong. She's very much like Norma: generous, impulsive, and a child. But you, my sweet Katherine, have become very much a woman."

  He barely seemed to move, but his face was above hers, blocking the lighted lamp. He put her glass on the table and brushed her lips lightly with his. Then, sliding his arm beneath her shoulders, he kissed her with a demanding confidence that struck against her like a wave, pushing her back against the velvet couch.

  Everything fell away. Her fears about Craig, her helpless rage at Lister, worries about the children, about money, about jewelry design, even the spark of jealousy she felt when Derek talked about women—all fell away. There was only Derek's body on hers, after months without anyone to hold her and make love to her. Katherine felt she was dissolving. His tongue against hers released all the longings she had held back for so long; her arms reached around him and her hips strained upward.

  And then, through the roaring in her ears, she heard Craig's 154

  POSSESSIONS

  voice. The words were muffled, but Katherine knew they were the same ones he had said the first time they made love, when they held each other, laughing and already making plans, because they had been so lonely and now had someone to love.

  She pulled away from Derek and sat up, wanting him so much that tears filled her eyes. But as she stood and walked the length of the room, she was not sure whether she was crying for him or for Craig. She kept her back to Derek until she could stop her tears. Then she turned around.

  He was watching her, the bones of his face sharply shadowed in the light from the fringed lamp. "I gather my cousin joined us," he said ironically.

  His cousin. It had been weeks since she thought of Craig and Derek as cousins. No two men could be more different.

  Derek refilled their glasses. "Sit down and drink this. He can't see us, you know, and even if he could, you are allowed champagne every other Friday night, or rather Saturday morning, at precisely one fifteen a.m."

  She gave a small laugh and came back to the couch. "I'm sorry."

  "Don't apologize. You do too much of that. Has it occurred to you that he's not worth your fidelity?"

  "No. That doesn't help, Derek. It's hard enough knowing how to behave without making up excuses. I don't know what happened to Craig, but he's my husband and I'd rather believe he is worth my fidelity."

  He drained his glass and slowly refilled it. "Would you like to hear what happened the last time we sailed together, fifteen years ago?"

  "Didn't Claude tell me? Last June?"

  *The official version. He wasn't on the boat. I was."

  "But you let him tell it."

  "I always let Claude tell official stories. Do you want to hear mine?"

  "You mean it's different from his. About Craig."

  "All of us." He looked at her, waiting.

  "Of course I want to hear it." Katherine spoke slowly, still shaking from the heat of her body and the memory of Craig's voice. Derek seemed untouched: cool and remote. "I've always wanted the truth," she said.

  *The truth." He smiled faintly, then settled back on the 155

  POSSESSIONS

  couch. "We were sailing home across the bay," he began. His speech was flat, almost a monotone. "We'd been at a party in Sausalito, very dull, and when we left, Craig decided to sail home the long way, out past the Golden Gate Bridge and then in again, to the harbor. Since he'd appointed himself captain, there was no arguing; we went the long way. But when I told him I was in a hurry, he made a concession and put up the spinnaker; the wind was up and it gave us good speed.

  "But tifien he changed his mind; he got worried about the currents and told us to put on lifejackets—Ross was in the cabin and Jennifer took one down to him—and then said we'd have to take down the spinnaker. I said I wanted it up and we argued about it. Too much sail,' he said. 'A strong wind could rip it to shreds.' Ross and Jennifer came up from the cabin in the middle of our mutual insults—got drenched by spray, I remember, because by then the boat was heeling and we were going at a good clip and water was breaking over the cockpit. It was the right way to sail—top speed and a roaring wind, spray flying, and waves slapping the boat—and I put my arm around Jennifer and said we liked living dangerously and no one was worried but the captain.

  "Of course he couldn't take it: the boat was his turf; the only place he could feel superior to me. Besides, he was crazy about his sister—guarded her like a mother hen. He gripped the wheel and yelled at me to let go of Jennifer; he looked so wild that Ross stepped in, to distract him, and said he'd take down the spinnaker.

  "Craig hardly heard him; he was so busy yelling—he told me if I didn't like the way he captained the ship, I could swim to shore, if I had the guts to try it in that water. Only an ass would have gone in willingly, but he made it a challenge to manhood, or some such thing, and I told him to shut up and get us home.

  "Craig was twenty-two that summer, and I was twenty-one—a couple of kids who happened to be related but didn't like each other. We never needed an excuse to think up insults and that day was no different, except Jennifer was there. She always tried to calm Craig down, especially when he was attacking me, but she didn't have any luck that day, and she was probably frightened, too—the wind was so loud we had to shout; we were soaking wet; and Craig seemed to have trouble

  POSSESSIONS

  controlling the boat and his own temper. Jennifer started to cry and Craig went into a rage, blaming me for her tears, calling me a string of names he'd never used before—looking at Jennifer to make sure she heard—and then he began raving about the way I was managing a building we were constructing that summer, the Macklin Building. Craig spent a lot of time trying to convince the family he knew more than I did, making me out to be incompetent or crooked, or both. But that day he should have known better. He was having enough trouble keeping the boat under control but he had to try to impress his sister. When he sent Ross forward to take down the spinnaker, I went over to try to calm him down, but he'd worked himself up to such a pitch he thought I was telling him what to do, and he let out a roar and jumped me.

  *Then everything happened at once. He'd left the wheel to get his hands on my throat and just as Jennifer was pulling on his arm, crying for him to stop, the boat changed direction— crossed the wind instead of going with it—because there was no one to hold it on course. The boom swung across and struck Jennifer on the side of the head. I barely saw it—^I was trying to get out of Craig's grip—but I heard the thud and a second later I saw her tumble over the side.

  "Craig screamed and dropped me. He lunged for the life preserver and marker pole and threw them into the water, yell
ing to Jennifer to grab hold, to fight. We were moving away from her, very fast, and the next minute Craig dove over the side, screaming her name. Ross was at the bow, taking down the spiimaker, and I grabbed the wheel, but I wasn't an experienced sailor and it took me almost ten minutes to get the boat turned around. Ross didn't know any more about sailing than I did—since then he's become an expert—so he stood at the side, calling Craig and Jennifer, trying to see them. It was getting dark.

  "I headed for the light on the marker pole Craig had thrown in, and we finally saw the life preserver. Jennifer was propped in it, like a doll, staring at us. But she wasn't alive; I suppose we knew that long before we got to her. Ross started to retch, and then ciy, and I told him to pull himself together and start calling Craig again; he had to be nearby.

  "Ross called until he was hoarse, in between whimpering, 'My God, my God, both of them—' until I had to slap him to

  POSSESSIONS

  get him to pay attention. I told him to hold the boat and I went over the side and tied a rope around Jennifer and together we got her into the cockpit. I couldn't find a pulse.

  "Ross called the Coast Guard. By then it was dark and while we waited for them, we got a searchlight from the cabin and swept the water with it, looking for Craig. But of course there was no sign of him. He was gone."

  In the abrupt silence, Katherine sat shivering, so chilled by Derek's cold telling of the story her bones felt brittle. He had not moved; he had not raised his voice. His face had not changed. He might have been recounting a story about strangers. She clasped her hands, to keep them still. "Where was Craig while you were looking for him?"

  Derek shrugged. "As Claude said, we assume he swam to shore. There were no other boats in the area and we weren't far from Lime Point. He was very strong and he could have made it. Obviously he did."

  "Lime Point?" Katherine was trying to place the name.

  "A small spit of land just below the north end of the Golden Gate Bridge. There's a lighthouse on it."