Jackie and Maria

by Gill Paul

  “I bet she was.”

  He poked her in the ribs. “Is Maria jealous?”

  “Not at all,” she replied, with dignity.

  “Good,” he said. “Because I’ve invited Jacqueline to the Christina for a few days in May, after you fly back to Paris.”

  This came as a hammer blow and she struggled to control herself. “Ari, why didn’t you invite her while I was here? I’d have loved to get to know her better. Why all the sneaking around?”

  “She’s a very private person. Besides, she’s my friend, not yours.” He took out a cigar and began toasting it. Maria had hidden the ones he kept on board but guessed he must have brought more back with him.

  She was upset that he clearly wanted to keep her and Mrs. Kennedy apart. The fact that he had told her should alleviate suspicion, but was he playing a game with both of them? “Should I be jealous?” she asked, watching his expression closely.

  “Do as you wish,” he replied. “I’ll never understand women.”

  “No, you probably won’t. Your entire knowledge of our sex comes from a Van Cleef & Arpels catalog.”

  He laughed out loud and raised his glass to clink with hers. Maria wondered if she should be hurling glasses at his head and slinging punches, but there was no point; it wouldn’t stop him from doing exactly what he wanted to do.

  She caught the Paris flight on May 20 and sobbed as the plane lifted off the tarmac. For two months she and Ari had felt as close as they ever had: talking, sunbathing, dancing, and making love under the stars—yet he could still invite another woman to join him as soon as she left. He’d be in Paris in a few weeks—he was sailing across on Christina—but already she missed him so badly that it was as if a hole had been punched right through her.

  She knew Ari would make love to Mrs. Kennedy given half a chance, and she was sure he’d try. He thrived on conquest, and she would be a particularly eminent one. All her hopes were pinned on Mrs. Kennedy turning him down. Was there anything she could do to influence her?

  By the time the plane landed in Paris, Maria had decided to make sure that Jackie knew the lay of the land. As soon as she got to Avenue Georges Mandel, she looked up the Fifth Avenue number—the number she’d never used before—in her address book and placed a call.

  “Mrs. Kennedy?” she asked, upon hearing the famous voice on the other end of the line. “It’s Maria Callas.”

  “Oh! Hello.” Jackie sounded wary.

  Maria launched into the speech she had prepared. “I wanted to say how sorry I am to miss your visit to the Christina. I had to fly back to Paris but I told Ari that next time he simply must invite you while I’m there so we can get acquainted. We love entertaining together and—between ourselves—I think I’m rather better than him at planning menus. I warned him not to serve you steak every single night.”

  There was a long pause, and she could hear Mrs. Kennedy’s breathing over the hisses and crackles of the transatlantic line before she answered: “I’m sure the food will be fine.”

  “If you are able to pass a pharmacy before you leave, could you please take Ari some liver salts? I noticed he had run out and he does rely on them.” She smiled to herself. Ari would be mad at her for having passed that on.

  “Of course.” She was clearly a woman of few words.

  “I hope we meet again soon, Mrs. Kennedy. I’m sure we’d have a lot to talk about.”

  “Yes. Thank you for calling.”

  Afterward Maria had no regrets. If Jackie told Ari about the call, he’d be tickled by the idea of the two of them fighting over him. And if Mrs. Kennedy had any scruples, she would back down now she realized that Maria was still the woman in his life.

  But if she decided to go ahead and sleep with him anyway, she hoped Ari would hurry up and mark that notch on his bedpost so that Mrs. Kennedy could be filed away, just like Eva Perón.

  Chapter 54

  New York City

  May 22, 1968

  After she hung up, Jackie sat for several minutes, shaken by the call. Ari must have told Maria of her forthcoming visit to the Christina. Her tone had been friendly but the subtext was a clear warning to back off. Perhaps she was still in love with him.

  She felt bad for Maria, but Ari had been very clear that they were just good friends and hadn’t been lovers for a while. Maybe she hoped to win him back, but that was no reason for Jackie to change her mind about the cruise. It was only for four days, and there would be others present: his sister, Artemis, and Jackie’s friend Joan Thring. For some time she’d felt as if Ari had been edging toward making a move, but he’d have to be on his best behavior with the others around.

  Jackie flew to St. Thomas on May 25 and slipped on board, a scarf covering her hair and huge sunglasses shielding her face.

  “I mustn’t be photographed here,” she told Ari. “Bobby would kill me!”

  “I understand,” he said. “We’ll raise anchor and set sail without delay.”

  After dinner that evening, when the other guests had gone to bed, they sat on deck with nightcaps. The moon lit a path across the water, and the only sound was the lapping of waves against the bow. Jackie sipped her vodka. She hadn’t drunk enough yet to blot out the anxiety that chipped away at her brain.

  “I’m so shaken about Martin Luther King,” she told him, a quiver in her voice. The popular civil rights leader had been assassinated in Memphis the previous month. “It seems America has gone mad. Anyone can buy a gun and take potshots at public figures. And now there are race riots everywhere. So much discontent, I can’t bear it.”

  Ari swirled his brandy. “It’s true there are lunatics in the world, but fewer than you would think from reading the newspapers.”

  Jackie shuddered. “It only takes one. The FBI tells me there’s been a surge of threats to kidnap or kill my children since King was shot. My children!”

  “I don’t want to be unduly alarmist, but I would advise you to get more protection for them. An extra layer of security on top of what the government provides would make sense.”

  Jackie hugged her knees to her chest. “That costs money. The Kennedys don’t give me enough to cover an expense like that.”

  Ari waved his arm dismissively. “It’s not so much. I have a permanent team I could assign to you while the threat level is high. And you know you are always welcome to use my private jets, or to holiday on the Christina or Skorpios. No one sets foot there but my employees.”

  “It’s very tempting,” Jackie said. “I’d love to escape for a while, but the world’s press would find out where I was and the Kennedys would be furious. It could harm Bobby’s election campaign. They might even cut off my allowance.”

  “Don’t let money stand in the way of your happiness.” His eyes never left her. His meaning was clear.

  “It’s not only money. They’re my children’s family. My family.”

  “The real question is whether you want to escape from the Kennedys and make a life of your own,” he said, shifting his chair till he was so close she could feel the heat emanating from his skin. “Whether you are ready to love someone new.”

  Jackie turned away. She had to admit she was attracted to him. She had always been attracted to powerful men, particularly rich ones; she couldn’t afford to fall for a pauper. Ari wasn’t Jack, but no man would ever match up to Jack. She was thirty-eight years old and fed up with being alone. It wasn’t sex she missed; it was the connection with another human being. Having someone care what she was doing with her day; someone to comfort her when the nightmares came; someone to have fun with. And Ari knew how to have fun. Life was never dull with him around.

  “I can’t have affairs in my position. I’m the nation’s grieving widow. I need to behave with ‘moral probity.’” She tapped a cigarette from her pack and Ari leaned over to light it, his arm brushing hers.

  “Do you really care what anyone else thinks?” he asked. “I’m surprised you give it a second thought.”

  “I don’t want to
become a hate figure,” she said. That reminded her: “By the way, Maria Callas telephoned me in Manhattan last week. She seems to believe you two are still an item.” Jackie inhaled deeply and held the smoke in her lungs as she waited for his reaction.

  “Did she? I wonder how she got your number.” His brow creased as he tried to figure it out. “Well, no matter. I can’t be responsible for what Maria says. She’s a strong-minded woman. But I know my own position.”

  He leaned close as if to kiss her, but Jackie pulled away. “I can’t just jump into bed with anyone, Telis. These things have a way of reaching the papers no matter how careful I am. I’d be accused of betraying Jack’s memory . . .”

  “What would it take for you to let yourself love again?” he asked, stroking her shoulder with a finger.

  She considered for a long time, then stubbed out her cigarette before answering. “I think the only way would be if I remarried. And even then I would be reviled in the States.”

  “Married?” Onassis recoiled. The idea clearly hadn’t occurred to him. Jackie watched as he wrestled with his feelings. “I’m sure you will remarry one day,” he said at last. “But why wait? This is the 1960s, not the Dark Ages.”

  Could she trust him? The problem was, he had nothing to lose, whereas for her everything was on the line.

  “That’s the only way it could work for me,” she said, stubbing out her cigarette and rising to her feet. “All or nothing.”

  She’d made the terms clear. Now the ball was in his court. He liked her, but how far would he go to woo her?

  WHEN JACKIE RETURNED to New York, there was a message asking her to call Bobby. He was on the campaign trail, sleeping in a different state most nights and attending rallies or visiting schools and factories during the days. She had to call his office to find out where he would be that evening, and it was late when they finally managed to speak.

  “How’s it going?” she asked.

  “It’s a disaster,” he said. “I lost Oregon. The California primary is on Tuesday and if I lose that too, I’m going to pull out.”

  “Don’t make any hasty decisions,” she cautioned. “Think of all the states you’ve won. You’re well ahead in the race.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” He sounded dog tired. “But I rang because I have something rather awkward to discuss. I keep hearing whispers about you and Aristotle Onassis. Please tell me they’re not true.”

  Jackie hesitated. “He does seem rather keen on me.”

  Bobby sighed heavily. “And you?”

  “I haven’t committed to anything.”

  “For crying out loud, don’t let yourself be pictured with him in the press. You’ve got no idea how corrupt the man is.”

  Jackie was irritated at being told whom she could and could not date. “Presumably he’s operating within the law, or he would have been charged with whatever crime you suspect him of.”

  “There could well be charges down the line . . .” When Jackie didn’t reply, he continued, “Seriously, Jackie. If you ever trusted my judgment, trust me on this. He’s not one of the world’s good guys.”

  “I’m an adult and I’ll make up my own mind about that.”

  “I’ve got enough to worry about,” Bobby said sharply. “Make this go away.”

  He hung up abruptly, leaving her seething. She felt like a teenager being told off by her mother. But for Jack’s sake, for the sake of the Kennedys, she would not make any decisions till after the election. Ari could wait.

  Chapter 55

  New York City

  June 4, 1968

  Jackie went to bed the night of June 4 feeling pleased for her brother-in-law. There was good news for Bobby’s campaign team that day: he had won both the South Dakota and the California primaries. The momentum seemed to have shifted again in his favor. Jackie had been at a rally that evening, and the cheering had raised the roof when word of the victories came through. She hadn’t wanted him to run, but now he was in the race she was rooting for him.

  Just a few hours later she was awakened from deep sleep by the sound of the telephone. She grabbed the receiver, hoping it hadn’t disturbed the children.

  “Jackie? It’s Stas. How is he?” His tone was urgent. Ominous.

  “How’s who?” She wondered why Stas was calling so late. Had Lee done something stupid?

  “Bobby.”

  “It’s good news!” she said, yawning. “He won the California primary.”

  There was a pause. “I’m so sorry, I thought you would have heard. Bobby’s been shot. In a hotel in Los Angeles. They’ve rushed him to the hospital.”

  A scream burst out of her: “Oh, God, no!” Her whole body started trembling as she wailed “No, no, no!” It was as if a mist came down and she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

  Stas’s voice cut through her panic. “He’s alive, Jackie. We need to go there. I’m in London but I’ll catch the first flight to New York. Pack a bag and we’ll fly to L.A. together.”

  When he hung up, she rocked backward and forward, arms wrapped around her shoulders, so shocked that she couldn’t think or speak. It felt like Dallas all over again: the explosion, the slice of scalp flying through the air, the heat, the salty smell of blood.

  Her housekeeper came rushing into the room in her dressing gown, and Jackie realized she had been moaning out loud.

  “I’ll get you some tea,” the housekeeper said. “Hot sweet tea.”

  Jackie shook her head. She didn’t want tea. Hands shaking so violently that it was hard to dial, she called Hyannis Port and Rose answered.

  “He’s still with us,” Rose reported, “but he was shot in the head and chest. Ted and Ethel are at his bedside at the Good Samaritan hospital. All we can do is pray.”

  There was a crushing pain in Jackie’s chest. In the head. Like Jack. How could he possibly survive?

  She couldn’t decide what to pack, so the housekeeper helped her throw a few outfits into an overnight bag. Caroline and John got up for school and she joined them as they ate breakfast, trying to still the trembling of her hands and sound vaguely normal. Should she keep them home from school? Yet again, she couldn’t decide. Perhaps they should go—but what if they heard about the shooting there? She had to say something.

  “Your uncle Bobby has been in an accident,” she told them at last. “I’m flying out to visit him so I won’t be here this evening, but I’ll be back soon.”

  Kids being kids, they took it in their stride and barely asked any questions before setting off for school with their Secret Service officer. It was a wrench to watch them leave. What if a maniac attacked them? She wanted to wrap them in blankets and snuggle with them on the couch, but that wasn’t an option.

  A friend of Ros Gilpatric’s offered to lend her his private plane, so she didn’t have to worry about the public trying to photograph her. She took a cab to LaGuardia and met Stas there, grasping his arm tightly as they hurried through to the departure gate.

  “He was shot in the head,” she told Stas once they were strapped into their seats. “Just like Jack.”

  Stas squeezed her hand. “I heard they operated this morning for more than three hours. They wouldn’t have done that if there was no hope. Bobby’s tough. If anyone can pull through, he can.”

  “Where’s Lee? Does she know?”

  He winced. “Lee’s distraught. She wasn’t in any fit state to fly out with me today but she’ll come tomorrow.”

  Jackie asked the stewardess for a vodka, but instead of acting as an anesthetic it seemed to heighten her anxiety. Her mind was full of vivid memories of the moments after Jack had been shot: his puzzled expression, the flying piece of skull, his brains spilling out. She started to describe it all to Stas; then the tears came and she realized she had gotten muddled. It wasn’t Jack who had been shot; it was Bobby. The names kept getting mixed up in her head.

  Stas held her hand very tightly and murmured words of comfort, but it was clear he didn’t have a clue what to do w
ith her.

  THEY HAD TO push through a barrage of reporters outside the hospital, then a nurse led them up to the floor where Bobby was fighting for his life. Secret Service agents dressed in black lined the corridors.

  Inside the room, Ethel sat in a chair, three months pregnant, her eyes red and her face glistening with tears. Teddy got up to hug Jackie, and she glanced over his shoulder at Bobby, lying in the bed amid a tangle of tubes and wires, with bandaging over his head and his eyes closed. There was a ventilator tube in his throat and it made an eerie hissing noise as air was pumped in and sucked out. A drip was plugged into a port in his arm, and various other wires linked him to monitors that beeped steadily, lights flashing. Everywhere there were reminders of Jack lying in the emergency room in Dallas. She blinked to try to clear them.

  “How is he?” she asked in a whisper.

  Teddy struggled to compose himself. “Not good.”

  “Will he make it?”

  Teddy glanced around at Ethel before shaking his head slightly. “They are concerned about his failure to improve. There’s a possibility his brain isn’t functioning anymore.”

  Jackie covered her mouth with her hands, tears springing to her eyes. She mustn’t break down here; she must be strong.

  She walked to the bedside and took Bobby’s hand in hers, careful not to disturb the wires. His face looked peaceful, as if he were merely in a very deep sleep.

  “Bobby, it’s Jacqueline. Can you hear me? Let me know if you can hear me.” She squeezed his hand, hoping he might move his fingers in response, but there wasn’t so much as a twitch. At least the regular rise and fall of his chest meant he was alive, but a machine was causing that, not him. “Bobby, you have to wake up. It’s time. Come on.”

  “We’ve all tried,” Ethel told her. “Nothing.”

  “Did you get a second opinion?” Stas asked, and everyone looked up. It seemed they hadn’t thought of that. “I’ll go and find someone. It’s worth a try.”