A Cry In the Night (16 page)

“Mommy, Mommy.” Beth was tugging at her jacket. “You look sick, Mommy.” Trying to smile, Jenny looked down at the woebegone face. Tina was next to Beth now, her face puckered, ready to cry.

Jenny crumbled the note and shoved it in her pocket. “No, love, I'm fine. I just didn't feel so well for a minute.”

She was not reassuring Beth. A wave of nausea had come over her as she read the note. Dear God, she thought, he can't mean this. He won't let me go to the church meetings. He won't let me use the car. Now he won't let me even learn to ride when he's painting.

Erich, don't spoil it for us, she protested silently. You can't have it both ways. You can't hole up and paint and expect me to sit with my hands folded waiting for you. You can't be so jealous that I'm afraid to be honest with you.

She glanced around wildly. Should she take a stand, pack and go back to New York? If there was any chance to keep their relationship from being destroyed, he'd have to get counseling, get some help to overcome this possessiveness. If she left, he'd know she meant it.

Where could she go? And with what?

She didn't have a dollar in her pocketbook. She had no money for fare, no place to go, no job. And she didn't want to leave him.

She was afraid she was going to be sick. “I'll be right back,” she whispered and hurried upstairs. In the bathroom she wrung out a cold cloth and washed her face. Her reflection had a sickly, unnatural pallor.

“Mommy, Mommy.” Beth and Tina were in the hallway. They had followed her upstairs.

She knelt down, swooped them to her, hugging them fiercely.

“Mommy, you're hurting me,” Tina protested.

“I'm sorry, Moppet.” The warm, wiggling bodies close to hers restored her balance. “You two certainly got yourselves one brilliant mother,” she said.

The afternoon dragged slowly. To pass the time, she sat with the girls at the spinet and began to teach them to pick out notes. Without the curtains it was possible to look out the parlor windows and see the sunset. The clouds had been blown away and the sky was coldly beautiful in shades of mauve and orange, gold and pink.

Leaving the children banging on the keyboard, she walked to the kitchen door that opened onto the west porch. The wind was making the porch swing move gently. Ignoring the cold, Jenny stood on the porch and admired the last of the sunset. When the final lights were ebbing into grayness, she turned to go back into the house.

A movement in the woods caught her attention. She stared. Someone was watching her, a shadowy figure, nearly concealed by the double trunk of the oak tree that Arden used to climb.

“Who's there?” Jenny called sharply.

The shadow receded into the woods as though trying to step back into the protection of the underbrush.

“Who's there?” Jenny called again sharply. Aware only of her anger at the intrusion on her privacy, she started down the porch steps toward the woods.

Erich stepped out from the shelter of the oak and with outstretched arms started running toward her.

•   •   •

“But, darling, I was only joking. How could you have thought for a minute that I wasn't joking?” He took the crumbled note from her. “Here, let's throw that out.” He shoved it in the stove. “There, it's gone.”

Bewildered, Jenny looked at Erich. There wasn't a trace of nervousness about him. He was smiling easily, shaking his head at her in amusement. “It's hard to believe you took that seriously, Jenny,” he said, then he laughed. “I thought you'd be flattered that I pretended to be jealous.”

“Erich!”

He locked his arms around her waist, rubbed his cheek against hers. “Umm, you feel good.”

Nothing about the fact that they hadn't seen each other for a week. And that note
wasn't
a joke. He was kissing her cheek. “I love you, Jen.”

For a moment she held herself rigid. She had vowed that she would have it out with him, the absences, the jealousy, her mail. But she didn't want to start an argument. She'd missed him. Suddenly the whole house seemed cheerful again.

The girls heard his voice and came running back into the room. “Daddy, Daddy.” He picked them up.

“Hey, you two sounded great on the piano. Guess we'll have to start lessons for you pretty soon. Would you like that?”

Jenny thought, Mark's right. I've got to have patience, give him time. Her smile was genuine when he looked at her over the children's heads.

Dinner had a festive air. She prepared carbonara
and an endive salad. Erich brought a bottle of Chablis from the wine rack. “It gets harder and harder to work in the cabin, Jen,” he said. “Especially when I know I'm missing dinners like this.” He tickled Tina. “And it's no fun being away from my family.”

“And your home,” she said. It seemed a good moment to bring up the changes she'd made. “You haven't mentioned how you like the way I've moved things around.”

“I'm slow to react,” he said lightly. “Let me think about it.”

It was better than she'd hoped for. She got up, walked around the table and put her arms around his neck. “I was so afraid you might be upset.”

He reached up and smoothed her hair. As always the feel of his nearness thrilled her, pushed away the doubts and uncertainties.

Beth had just left the table. Now she came running back. “Mommy, do you love Daddy better than our other daddy?”

Why in the name of God had she thought to ask that question now? Jenny wondered despairingly. Desperately she tried to frame an answer. She could only find the truth. “I loved your first daddy mostly because of you and Tina. Why do you want to know that?” To Erich she said, “They haven't mentioned Kevin for weeks.”

Beth pointed at Erich. “Because
this daddy
asked me if I love him better than our first daddy.”

“Erich, I wouldn't discuss that with the girls.”

“I shouldn't,” he said contritely. “I guess I was just anxious to see if their memory of him was beginning to fade.” He put his arms around her. “How about your memory, darling?”

•   •   •

She took a long time with the children's baths. Somehow it was calming to watch their uncomplicated
pleasure splashing in the tub. She wrapped them in thick towels, rejoicing in the sturdy little bodies and brushing back the freshly shampooed ringlets. Her hands trembled as she buttoned their pajamas. I'm getting so nervous, she fumed at herself. It's just I feel so dishonest that the smallest thing Erich says I take the wrong way.
Damn
Kevin.

She heard the girls' prayers. “God bless Mommy and Daddy,” Tina intoned. She paused then looked up. “Should we say God bless both daddies?”

Jenny bit her lip. Erich had started this. She wasn't going to tell the children not to pray for Kevin. Still . . . “Why not tonight say God bless everyone?” she suggested.

“And Fire Maid and Mouse and Tinker Bell and Joe . . .” Beth added.

“And Randy,” Tina reminded her. “Can we have a puppy too?”

Jenny tucked them into bed, realizing how every night she was becoming more and more reluctant to go downstairs again. When she was alone, the house seemed too big, too silent. On windy nights there was a mournful wail from the trees that penetrated the quiet.

And now when Erich was here she didn't know what to expect. Would he stay overnight or go back to the cabin?

She went downstairs. He had made the coffee. “They must have been pretty dirty for you to be so long with them, sweetheart.”

She had planned to ask him for the keys to the car but he didn't give her the chance. He picked up the tray with the coffee service. “Let's sit in the front parlor and let me absorb your changes.”

As she followed him she realized how well the white cableknit sweater he was wearing set off his dark, gold hair. My handsome, successful, talented husband, she
thought, and with a tinge of irony remembered Fran saying, “He's too perfect.”

In the parlor she pointed out to him how moving some furniture and putting away the excessive bric-a-brac made it possible to appreciate the lovely pieces in the room.

“Where did you put everything?”

“The curtains are in the attic. The small pieces are in the cupboard in the pantry. Don't you think having the trestle table under
Memory of Caroline
is better? I always felt the pattern in the couch was distracting so near the painting.”

“Perhaps.”

She couldn't be sure of his reaction. Nervously she tried to fill the silence with conversation. “And don't you think with the light that way, we see more of the little boy—of you? Before this your face was rather shadowed.”

“That's a bit fanciful. The child's face was never meant to be defined. As a fine arts major who worked in a prominent gallery, you should realize that, Jenny.”

He laughed.

Was he intending to joke? Was it just that no matter what he said tonight, there seemed to be a sting in it? Jenny picked up her coffee cup and realized her hand was shaking. The cup slipped from her hand and the coffee splattered on the couch and Oriental rug.

“Jenny, darling. Why are you so nervous?” Erich's face creased into worried lines. With his napkin he began to swab the stain.

“Don't rub it in,” Jenny cautioned. Rushing into the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of club soda from the refrigerator.

With a sponge she dabbed furiously at the spots. “Thank God I hadn't put cream in yet,” she murmured.

Erich said nothing. Would he consider the couch and carpet destroyed as he had the dining-room wallpaper?

But the club soda did the trick. “I think I've got it all.” She got up slowly. “I'm sorry, Erich.”

“Sweetheart, don't worry about it. But can't you tell me why you're so upset? You
are
upset, Jen. That note for example. A few weeks ago you would have known I was teasing you. Darling, your sense of humor is one of the most delightful parts of your personality. Please don't lose it.”

She knew he was right. “I'm sorry,” she said miserably. She was going to tell Erich about meeting Kevin. No matter what, she had to clear the air. “The reason I'm so . . .”

The phone rang.

“Answer it, please, Jenny.”

“It won't be for me.”

It rang again.

“Don't be so sure. Clyde tells me in the last week there have been a dozen disconnects where someone didn't want to leave a taped message. That's why I told him to let it ring through tonight.”

With a sense of fatality she preceded him into the kitchen. The phone rang a third time. She knew even before she picked it up that it was Kevin.

“Jenny, I can't believe I finally got through to you. That damn answering machine! How are you?” Kevin's voice was buoyant.

“I'm all right, Kev.” She felt Erich's eyes on her face; he bent over the phone so he could hear the conversation. “What do you want?”
Would Kevin talk about their meeting?
If only she'd told Erich first.

“To share the good news. I'm officially in the repertory company at the Guthrie, Jen.”

“I'm glad for you,” she said stiffly. “But, Kevin, I don't want you calling me. I forbid you to call me.
Erich is right here and he's very upset that you're contacting me.”

“Listen, Jen, I'll call all I want. You tell Krueger for me that he can tear up those adoption papers. I'm going to court to stop the adoption. You can have custody, Jen, and I'll pay support, but those kids are MacPartlands and that's the way it's going to be. Who knows? Someday Tina and I might be doing a Tatum and Ryan O'Neal number. She's a real little actress. Oh, Jen. Gotta run. They're calling for me. I'll get back to you. Bye.”

Slowly Jenny hung up the phone. “Can he stop the adoption?” she asked.

“He can try. He won't succeed.” Erich's eyes were cold, his tone icy.

“A Tatum and Ryan O'Neal number, my God,” Jenny said disbelievingly. “I'd almost admire him if I thought he wanted the children, really wanted them. But this!”

“Jenny, I predicted you were making a mistake letting him sponge off you,” Erich said. “If you'd been yanking him into court for support payments, you'd have been finished with him two years ago.”

As usual, Erich was right. Suddenly she felt infinitely weary and the faint nausea she'd experienced earlier was coming back. “I'm going to bed,” she said abruptly. “Are you staying here tonight, Erich?”

“I'm not sure.”

“I see.” She started down the foyer from the kitchen to the staircase. She had gone only a few feet when he caught up with her.

“Jenny.”

She turned. “What is it, Erich?”

His eyes were warm now, his face concerned and gentle. “I know it isn't your fault that MacPartland is bothering you. I promise I know that. I shouldn't get upset with you.”

“It makes it so much harder for me when you do.”

“We'll work this out. Let me get through these next few days. I'll feel better then. Try to understand. Maybe it's because Mother promised me just before she died that she'd always be here on my birthday. Maybe that's why I'm so depressed around this time. I feel her presence—and her loss—so much. Try to understand me; try to forgive me when I hurt you. I don't
mean
it, Jenny. I love you.”

They were wrapped in each other's arms. “Erich,
please,”
Jenny begged, “let this be the last year you react like this. Twenty-five years.
Twenty-five years.
Caroline would be fifty-seven years old. You still see her as a young woman whose death was a tragedy. It was, but it's over. Let's get on with life. It could be good for us. Let me share your life, really share it. Bring your friends in. Take me to see your studio. Get me a small car so I can go shopping or to an art gallery or take the kids to a movie when you're painting.”