Cross of Ivy

by Roxi Bahar Hewertson

  “Yes? May I help you?” Abby asked the woman.

  “Mrs. Trudeau?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am looking for your husband. Is he in?”

  Abby’s blood went cold. How dare one of his lovers come to her door! “He’s not here.” Abby was too polite to slam the door in her face, so she just stood there, in the frigid air, with the door open a crack.

  “May I come in, then? I would like to talk to you as well,” the woman said.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’ve come a long way, Mrs. Trudeau. I’ll explain it all to you if you’ll just let me come in.”

  Something about the woman’s troubled face and well-bred manner made Abby open the door. Abby stood behind it, as if it would somehow protect her. The woman walked deliberately, looked around, and turned to wait for Abby. She seemed to be a woman on a mission.

  Abby led the way. “Please sit down,” she said. She indicated the sofa in the living room.

  “Thank you. I am really very sorry to disturb you, and I wish it could be otherwise, but I must speak with you. There is so little time.”

  “Who are you? How do you know Zach?” Abby could feel her eyebrow twitching. Something important or horrible was about to happen; she could feel it.

  “My name is Desiree Pettit. I am your husband’s sister.”

  “Oh.” Abby caught her breath. She had expected quite another answer. She relaxed for a moment and then realized what this stranger had said.

  “You can’t be Zach’s sister. He has six brothers and no sisters. You have the wrong Trudeaus, I’m afraid.” Abby watched Desiree’s face.

  “No. I wish it were so. But it is not. I am Zach’s half-sister. We have the same father, but different mothers. Our father never married my mother, but they’ve lived together in New Orleans until recently. He’s too old now and needs constant care, as you must know. He wouldn’t allow her to be burdened with him.”

  “He’s lived at Pride Plantation since I’ve known him. What are you saying?” Abby was confused, but she knew Desiree Pettit wasn’t lying.

  “He was at Pride when he had to be, but the rest of the time, he lived with my mother in a house he bought her when I was born. But that is not why I have come all the way to Cross. I have come because of my son.”

  “Your son? What do you mean?” Abby asked as she tried to absorb the words she’d just heard.

  “This is very hard for me. You don’t know me and I don’t know you, but I have no choice. Zach will not return my calls, he will not respond to my pleas, and I have to come here to change his mind.”

  “About what? What does Zach have to do with your son?”

  “He is David’s father,” Desiree said as her eyes fell to the floor. Her hands were clasped tightly together, but she did not move.

  “What! Zach is whose father? That can’t be. What child, when, how old is he? Do you realize what you’re saying?” Abby’s mind was racing. The day she overheard Zach and his father in the library, the fight, what was it his father said? What had Zach said? Abby hadn’t wanted to remember that conversation, and now here, over two decades later, and she was back on the stairs of Pride Plantation, hearing what she couldn’t bear to hear then or now.

  “We were young, and we didn’t know about our father, either of us. We fell in love, or so I thought. It happened once and...” Desiree’s eyes became blank, far away, and then tears trickled down her cheeks. “It was before you. I had a son. He should not have been born, but there was no choice then. The child never cried, never. He is very sick. There is so little time.” Desiree seemed unable to go on. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap and bit her lower lip.

  “This is impossible, but for some reason, I believe you,” Abby said. “Where is your son now? Why is there so little time?”

  “He’s been in an institution all his life. He is severely autistic and has never spoken a word, until a few months ago. He was finally responding. A small dog has opened a window to David’s world. He tries to talk, and he smiled for the first time in his life. . But now, now he is dying. It’s bone cancer. Zach is our last hope. He might be able to save David, but he refuses to try. He denies his son, and he refuses the only thing I have ever asked of him.”

  “He knows?”

  “Yes, he has always known. But David is a painful reminder of me, of us, of what happened. If not for my late husband, I would have been lost, like David is lost. Zach never cared what happened to me or to David.”

  “Dear God! I thought I knew him. I thought I knew how low he could go. I thought I couldn’t be surprised anymore. But this. Dear God!” Abby put her face in her hands and said nothing for a long few minutes. When she looked up, Desiree had not moved. She sat like an ebony and marble statue on the plush, burgundy sofa.

  “What does David need?” Abby asked quietly.

  “He needs a bone marrow transplant with as near a perfect match as can be found. My mother and I have been tested, and we don’t match well enough. I haven’t been able to speak to my father, and even if I did, what good would it do? The rest of them don’t know about any of this. We’ve been a secret for over forty years. Zach is our last chance, don’t you see? It wouldn’t take him long to find out if he could save David. All I ask is that he try. Do you understand, Mrs. Trudeau?”

  “Please, call me Abby.”

  “All right. Abby, you must see why I have come; you are a mother.” The realization hit Abby like a tsunami. She was sitting in her own living room with the mother of Zach’s other child —her children’s half-brother. Abby shook her head.

  “I do understand. This is a lot to absorb, but I do understand. I would do the same in your place.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Desiree, how much time does David have?”

  “At most, two months.”

  “Then there’s no time to lose,” Abby said as much to herself as to Desiree. She was already thinking what had to be done, already planning her next move.

  “No, no, there isn’t.”

  “Zach must do the test. He’s in New York City. I’ll find him, bring him back, and I will do everything I can to get him to agree.”

  “I am very grateful to you, Abby. I am so sorry to bring this to you, but you see, I had no choice.”

  “I know. Can you stay in Cross until tomorrow? I will go today.”

  “Yes, yes, of course.”

  “Where are you staying?” Abby asked.

  “At La Bastille, the Inn outside of town.”

  “I will call you tomorrow then,” Abby said.

  Desiree stood. She nodded her head and put out her gloved hand.

  “You are a fine woman, Abby. Perhaps, under other circumstances, we could have been friends,” Desiree said.

  “Perhaps we can be still,” said Abby as she accepted Desiree’s hand. Desiree smiled for the first time. “Yes, perhaps. Goodbye, Abby.” Abby walked her to the door. “Goodbye, Desiree.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Abby knew Zach was not due back for two days. She called Stuart’s office. The secretary said they were out to lunch and then had several appointments in the afternoon with friends of Stuart’s and Cross alums.

  “Do you want to leave a message?”

  “No,” Abby told her, “It can wait”.

  Abby collapsed in her favorite chair and looked out her windows at the city below. Maybe another day wouldn’t matter that much. She stood and paced across her living room floor. No. She would go today, and she’d confront him. She’d use Stuart, if need be. Zach wouldn’t risk looking foolish and cruel in front of Stuart. He wouldn’t risk the exposure of his incestuous past to Stuart.

  She dressed for the city. It was the second time in two days she’d driven Zach’s Jeep to the airport. She planned to leave it there and, if all went well, return with him on the late flight out of New York. There was just enough time to catch the afternoon commuter; it was never full at that time of day.

  Stuart and Zach were fi
nishing their lunch at the Cross Club. As they drank the steaming black coffee, fresh ground and smelling like almonds, Stuart got up to use the phone.

  “I’ll call now,” Stuart said.

  “Fine, fine,” said Zach as he lit his Havana cigar and blew smoke rings in the air.

  Stuart spoke into the phone.

  “Just be there and don’t forget the dancer. Six on the dot. Be hot tonight, baby, and don’t ask questions, just be there. Got it?”

  “All set, Stu?” Zach nearly spilled the coffee as he jumped up from his chair to greet him.

  “Yeah. All set. Should be a good time.” He winked at Zach. “You’ll like ‘em. You’ll see.”

  Stuart’s apartment consumed the entire twenty-fourth floor of his building. It had been his first big purchase, and he’d lived at the top for twenty years. There were four elevators; one was his exclusively, accessible only by coded key. Only he, his wife, their children, and the head doorman had keys. Two doormen dressed a lot like Cross marching band members greeted and escorted them up the granite steps inside to the thickly carpeted forest green foyer. Hanging on the walls were huge brass mirrors and oil paintings of New York’s landmarks. From the ceiling, brightly lit crystal chandeliers dripped cascades of sparkling reflections like hundreds of raindrops in a sun shower. All the trim was brass, clean and clear, not a smudge, not a fingerprint - immaculate.

  The men went up to ready the apartment for their guests. “Maid’s night off?” Zach asked.

  Stuart’s lip curled into a snake-like smile. “When I told her I’d pay her, she was out of here in a flash. I never saw a woman beat it so fast, but she left us dinner in the fridge.”

  “Well, you thought of everything, Stu.” Zach slapped his tiny mentor on the back. “I feel like I’m back in the frat house, gettin’ ready for a night of serious trimmin’. Yahoo! Let the show begin.” Zach and Stuart broke into gales of laughter.

  They warmed up their meal, clinked their beer bottles together and talked about all the women they’d had. Stuart told Zach that his latest whore was better than any he’d had in a long time.

  “I put her up and told her she was mine, no other johns if she wants the money to keep coming. And that’s how it is. She’s got a beeper and everything, so when I’m ready, she’s ready. Do you love it?”

  Zach was about to respond through a mouthful of food when he heard the elevator. He looked at Stuart, and Stuart looked at his Rolex.

  “Right on time. Great broad!” he said almost tenderly and rose from the table waving to Zach to join him.

  The elevator door opened. “Your guests, sir,” said the overpaid doorman.

  “Fine. That will be all, Philip.”

  “Yes, sir. Goodnight, sir.” The elevator door closed.

  Two women entered the room side by side. The blonde on the left wore a skin-tight black dress slit up the side to her thigh and cut in the front to reveal a deep cleavage where a large, gold pendant rested just above the divide. She wore five-inch heels, black stockings with a diamond design etched into the weave, and more than a dozen bracelets encircled her arm. Orange-red lips formed a smile as she looked at Stuart. She pointed with talon-like nails that matched her lips to her friend.

  “Hi, honey,” she said to Stuart. “This is my friend, Maya, and she’s so happy to be here, aren’t you sweetie?”

  Maya stood as tall as the one who spoke, but her shoes were flat. A purple and red gauze dress was wrapped around her athletic body like a sarong. Long, jet black hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders as her deep brown almond eyes looked lazily around the room. This woman revealed only a bare shoulder that boasted a tattoo of a single blood-red rose. In a slight accent that might have been Italian or perhaps Greek, she responded in a low voice, her white teeth shining.

  “Oh yes, Charlene, I am most happy to meet your friends. We make nice time, yes?” she said easily.

  “Oh, baby, you bet,” said Zach as he moved toward her.

  “Char, baby, this is my friend Zach. He wants to get to know Maya better first. Then we’ll all play nicey nice. Right, baby?” Stuart winked at his woman.

  “Whatever your little heart desires, Stuey,” the woman in black said.

  All of them walked in silence down the hall to the guest rooms. Maya had already draped herself over Zach’s arms like a silk curtain. Charlene towered over Stuart. She entwined his arm in hers and started licking his ear as they moved forward.

  “Save it, Char, we have all night. Besides, I want you to start a little lower.” He grabbed her rear end and squeezed.

  She laughed. “Whatever my Stuey wants, my Stuey gets.”

  Zach kicked open the door to his room. Candles were lit and the pre-programmed music was turned on. The king-sized waterbed looked like the ocean at night with its dark blue satin comforter. The headboard was alive with gadgets, remote control for the TV and video player, music buttons. There was even a timer switch for the gas fireplace in the corner. A dried flower bouquet decorated the mantel, and statues and books lined the curly maple shelves that abutted the bed. Soft lights cast long shadows over the thick, white carpet.

  “I wanna see you dance, baby. I wanna see you move with the music. I’ll just sit over here and watch for a while,” Zach said.

  Maya said nothing and smiled a knowing smile.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, Maya unwrapped her dress a layer at a time, while Zach watched from the day couch across the room, smoking his cigar, drinking his Scotch. She gyrated to the music like grass in the wind. Her dance was intoxicating, sensual as each yard of material floated to the floor like stray bird feathers. Her body glowed in the firelight as her smooth, mocha skin reflected the subdued illumination.

  As though in a dream, Maya began stroking her own body, rhythmically mimicking the subtle beat of the quiet jazz undercurrent. She closed her eyes and fondled her full, round breasts like she might a delicate flower; she rubbed her flat belly and moved her agile fingers to the black, curly triangle between her legs, all the while licking her glistening lips with her tongue.

  Zach stripped off his clothes, leaving them in a heap, and tugged at his engorged organ as he crossed the room. The woman was lying on the bed now, lifting her hips up and down to the music, rolling from side to side, causing the water beneath her to sway and slosh. Zach mounted her in one motion, and pounded into her waiting body like waves against the rocks.

  When he was spent, Zach said to the woman, “That was just an appetizer, baby. Go get our host.” He wrapped his hand around her hair and smelled it.

  “I like the way you smell.” He pulled her head to his and covered her mouth.

  “Okay. Now, you can go.”

  “As you wish,” Maya said. She rolled off the bed and wrapped one of the waiting guest robes around her body, leaving Zach spread-eagle on the bed.

  Stuart, who looked even smaller without clothes, and the two women entered Zach’s room with a bottle of champagne and four frosted glasses.

  “Party time, Zach ol’ man! Strip girls.” At his command, the two women dropped their robes. Each took a glass, and Stuart handed the last one to Zach. Stuart poured. The phone rang down the hall.

  Stuart was annoyed, “Goddam phone. I s’pose I should get it.” He started to get up, but Charlene tugged at his leg.

  “Oh, don’t go, Stuey. That’s what answering machines are for.”

  “You’re right, sweet buns. Talking’s not what I want to do anyhow,” Stuart said as he settled back on the bed.

  “Got any good movies, Stu? You know, like Debbie Does Dallas?”

  Stuart snapped his fingers and pointed. “Char, you know where they are. Go get our favorite.”

  Charlene returned with a video and slid it into the player.

  “Stu, my man, it don’t get any better than this!” Zach said as he grabbed the breast of his woman.

  “Are you expected?” the head doorman asked Abby as he unlocked the private phone box and began to dial.

&n
bsp; “I’ve been here before, don’t you remember?” Abby said.

  “I can’t say as I do. You don’t fit the profile.” The phone rang ten times. He hung up the phone.

  “If you’re sure you’re expected, then I guess it’s all right,” he said. “Of course, it’s all right. Mr. Leer would not be pleased if you left me standing here, now would he?”

  “Perhaps not. You are expected, you said, right?”

  Abby put her hands on her hips, tapped her foot, and stared at the uniformed man.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll let you up,” he said.

  As the elevator rose, Abby noticed that Stuart had pictures of himself and his buildings hung on the left wall. There was a phone, a camera, and a coded keyboard. There was no way to know which button or combination of buttons to push to go up. There was only one labeled button— Down. Suddenly, Abby felt trapped. Her knees got weak, and she started to gasp for air.

  “You all right?” the doorman asked. He noticed her in the corner turning pale and coughing.

  “It’s so closed in here. Are we almost there?” As she spoke, the elevator stopped, a light went on over the control board, and a bell sounded.

  “Here we are, top floor,” the doorman said. He looked out and saw no one. His face took on a confused expression. He turned to stop Abby from getting out, but she pushed by him too fast for him to react.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she said. The elevator door closed and descended, taking the doorman with it. Abby looked and listened. She heard voices at the far end of the massive hallway, but she could see no one.

  Where are the maid and Stuart’s wife? she wondered. Abby’s sonar began to buzz. Something was not right. Something was going on here that shouldn’t be. She heard a woman’s voice.

  “Oh, Zachy baby, do it again, harder, harder. Oh, God! Yes. Yes.”

  Abby stood outside the bedroom door. Her hand trembled as she reached for the knob, turned it, and peered in. For a moment, it was like watching a bad movie. It wasn’t real. Suddenly, a sickness rose up in her throat, a flash of memory. The scene before her and the one so long buried collided. Abby felt small, like a child again—violated, unclean.