Native Affairs (58 page)

“That’s exactly my point,” Jennifer replied. “You’ve done it, so can I. Marilyn, you have a child by a man you loved. You are reminded of him every time you look at Jeff and remember that love. I want that, too, and this is my chance to have it.”

Marilyn fell silent running the tip of her finger along the rim of her glass. “I suppose you won’t consider telling Lee.”
 

“You suppose correctly.”
 

“Don’t you think he’ll figure it out when he returns next season to see you packing a papoose that will probably bear a startling resemblance to his family?”

“I have a plan to cover that,” Jennifer said “And in case you get any ideas about telling him yourself, be warned that I will put a contract out on you the minute I hear about it.”
 

Marilyn sighed. “What’s your plan?”
 

Jennifer outlined what she was going to do, while Marilyn went to the kitchen and made grilled cheese sandwiches. They conversed through the alcove between the two rooms, until Marilyn carried the food in on a tray.

Marilyn handed Jennifer a plate and said, “Let me know what I can do to help. I’ll miss you. I have some money saved, if you need it.”
 

Jennifer smiled. “For heaven’s sake, Marilyn, you’re acting like I’m going to wind up slinging hash in some roadside diner, scrubbing floors at night to buy junior’s little booties. I’m a professional, I’ll make enough money to support both of us. And there are plenty of day-care centers and nursery schools to enable me to continue working. So stop worrying and be happy for me.”

“Here’s to motherhood,” Marilyn said, saluting Jennifer with her sandwich. “I withdraw my objections.”

Jennifer reciprocated and then took a huge bite.

* * * *

On Monday morning Jennifer called two firms of “headhunters” in New York, personnel agencies that placed people in her field. She told them what kind of position she wanted and the same day mailed out the resumes she had typed up over the weekend. She felt capable, efficient, resolved. She had time yet, and it was likely she would find something suitable before her appearance gave away her condition.

The last thing she had to do, before tendering her resignation, which would have to wait until she had an offer, was to tell Dolores what she was planning. In the interest of fairness, Dolores should know that she might shortly be working for a new boss.

Jennifer waited until Dolores was getting ready to leave for the day, and then asked her to sit down for a minute.

“I have some news, Dolores.”

“You’re pregnant.”

Jennifer stared at her, stunned. “How did you know?”

“A blind man could see it.”

“I didn’t realize it was so obvious.”

Dolores crossed her legs. “Relax. It isn’t obvious, only to me. I work with you every day, remember?” She swung one foot in 3/4 time. “And I saw you throwing up in the ladies’ room on several occasions.”

So much for privacy at the office. ‘Tm going to move, Dolores. I’m looking for another job.”

“It’s Lee Youngson’s, isn’t it?”

Jennifer didn’t answer.

“Ah, come on, Jen, who do you think you’re kidding? After that dance at the Stratford, your mutual fascination is hardly a secret.”

“That’s exactly the reason I have to go.”

“You’re going to have it, then.”

“Yes.”

“Good for you.”

Jennifer felt a wave of affection for her secretary. She wasn’t going to try to talk Jennifer out of it She understood.

Dolores stood up. “Now let me see. It’s time to start taking care of you around here. Glasses of milk on coffee break, feet up for ten minutes in the PM, no salt, no booze, easy on the calories. I’m at your service. All I ask in return is that you name it after me.”

Jennifer laughed. “You missed your calling, Dolores. You should be running a prenatal clinic.”

“I will be, right here.”

“Not a word of this to anybody.”

“My lips are sealed.”

They packed up and left together, united in their shared secret.

* * * *

Jennifer kept her doctor’s appointment, and the nurse called her two days later with the results of her tests. They were positive. Jennifer was indeed pregnant.

* * * *

That Saturday Jennifer took the train to New York for her first interview.

Chapter 9

Autumn came to eastern Pennsylvania. The leaves on the trees turned a myriad of colors, and summer transformed itself to fall. The football season was in full swing, and Jennifer kept track of Lee’s progress by reading what came across her desk and watching the sports coverage on the local news.

She missed him more than she would have believed possible. Nights alone were agony, so she filled them with packing as much as she could ahead of time. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but she was sure she was going to go.

Almost every Saturday she interviewed for jobs. After a preliminary meeting during which she conferred with the placement agency’s representative, she was presented with a description of open positions as they became available. Since she was willing to go anywhere and also to take a cut in salary, these were more numerous than she had expected If she and the prospective employer were both interested, the agency set up a meeting. Twice she flew out-of-town, but most often she was interviewed by someone from the company who happened to be in Philadelphia or New York.

The schedule was exhausting. Jennifer was beginning to feel better, the nausea had almost disappeared, but she spent most Saturdays dressing up, trying to make a good impression on strangers, and trekking back and forth to and from hotel suites or luncheon appointments. On Sundays, she crashed. She almost relished the constant activity, however. It didn’t give her much time to think about other things.

Thanksgiving was almost upon her before she found the job she wanted. She was beginning to think she never would, but just when she was giving up, the placement representative contacted her with the ideal position. It was similar to the one she presently had, but with much wider ranging responsibilities, for less money, with the Tampa Bay Bengals, in Florida. Travel and moving expenses would be paid as part of the package. She met with the personnel vice-president in New York and accepted the offer the same day it was made.

Her next task was composing a letter of resignation for Harold Salamone. By the time she finished, her living room was littered with scrap paper. Dolores typed it the next day, and Jennifer asked for an appointment to see him.

He was shocked and tried to talk her out of her decision. Jennifer was adamant but understood his puzzlement. Her statement that the reason for her move was “personal” hardly explained her actions. He insisted that she contact him if she ever needed work in the future, and she promised that she would.

The Saturday before Thanksgiving Jennifer tuned in to the Freedom’s home game from force of habit. It was not televised in the local area, so she listened to it on the radio. There was some small comfort in hearing Lee’s exploits described. She couldn’t help feeling a certain pride in his accomplishments. She was sorting dishes for the moving company to wrap and pack, washing the ones she was planning to take, and putting the rest in a box for storage.

The announcer was describing a pass from Joe Thornridge to Lee when he suddenly broke off, and then resumed with a strong undercurrent of repressed excitement in his voice.

“Lee Youngson is down, hit hard by number 31, Melvin Banks. Youngson was reaching for that Thornridge pass when he was tackled by the 6’ 4” 250-pound Banks, and you can bet Lee must be smarting from that one, folks.” Jennifer paused, alerted.

“Lee Youngson is hurt!” the announcer caroled. “He is motionless on the ground, and the officials are calling for a stretcher. No way to tell the extent of his injuries, of course, but he appears to be unconscious and is about to be carried off the field.”

The dishtowel Jennifer was holding slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor.

“The word here in the booth is that an ambulance is on the way to take the injured man directly to Center City Hospital. To repeat, Lee Youngson is being carried, unconscious, off the field and is being taken to—”

Jennifer snapped off the radio with trembling fingers. Mechanically, she went to the closet and got her coat, then picked up her purse and keys.

Her only thought was to get to Lee as soon as possible.

* * * *

Jennifer remembered nothing of the drive to the hospital. She obeyed traffic signals and negotiated city streets in a daze. She wasn’t sure she could get in to see Lee when she arrived, but she knew she had to try.

There was a crush of reporters in the lobby of the hospital, and she pushed past them impatiently. A hospital spokesman was dealing with them, handing out the usual party line about “resting comfortably” and “everything possible being done.” Jennifer knew the truth was to be found elsewhere.

But she soon discovered that no one would tell her anything. She wasn’t a member of the family, or part of the team’s staff, and she couldn’t even find out what floor Lee was on. She was standing in the reception area, terrified, frustrated, when she saw Joe Thornridge speeding in a side door, dodging the press, his face hunched into his collar. They were listening to the administrator and didn’t see him.

Jennifer wanted to shout for him but feared attracting attention. She waited until he had turned down one of the corridors and then scurried after him as fast as she could.

He jumped when she grabbed his arm, whirling to face her.

“Joe, it’s me.”

His eyes widened. “Jenny! Why’d you pounce on me like that?”

“I didn’t want the reporters to see you. How is he?”

Joe’s plain face darkened with concern. “Not good, sugar, not good. He’s still out, and these doctors here can’t seem to figger why.”

The knot forming in Jennifer’s stomach lightened another notch. “What happened?” she asked.

“I screwed up, is what happened,” Joe said miserably. “I overshot him by a mile, but you know he’s always got to try for ‘em, even if they’re twenty feet over his head. Banks never woulda been able to nail him like that if he hadn’t been reachin’ for the moon.”

“Where is he?”

“Third floor. Intensive care.”

“Intensive care?” Jennifer repeated faintly. Suddenly she didn’t feel very well. She stopped abruptly and put her hand to her throat Air seemed to be in short supply.

Joe put his arm around her and steadied her against his side. “Hey, hey, li’l lady, take it easy.” He turned her to face him and put his hands on her shoulders, looking down at her. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just studied her expression. Then he stepped back and took her hand. “C’mon, sugar,” he said quietly. “We’ll go up and see what the story is.”

The ride on the elevator seemed endless. Jennifer clutched Joe’s hand as if it were a life preserver.

The scene outside intensive care was grim. Roy O’Grady and Coach Rankin sat on one of the visitors’ benches, furiously puffing cigarettes and whispering. They reminded Jennifer of French films from the sixties in which everyone smoked constantly and conversed in low, intent voices through a carcinogenic cloud. Dawn sat apart from them, her customary composure undisturbed, watching Jennifer’s approach calmly. Carl Danbury and his wife, a statuesque beauty with a curly Afro, stood off to one side. They didn’t look happy.

Mrs. Danbury took one look at Jennifer and said to Joe, “Get this woman a glass of water.”

Joe obliged, walking to a water cooler at the end of the hall, and Mrs. Danbury extended her hand. “You must be Jennifer. My husband told me about you. I’m Rita Danbury.”

Jennifer shook hands, wondering what Carl had said.

Mrs. Danbury led her to a seat next to Dawn and then sat herself, putting Jennifer in the middle between the two other women. Joe came back and silently handed Jennifer her drink.

“Did you call Sal Barbetti back?” Rita asked him.

Joe nodded.

“Is that the man who owns the restaurant?” Jennifer asked.

Joe nodded again.

“When I was there with Lee, he said something about a favor Lee did for his son. Do you know what that was?”

“Oh, his kid got into some trouble with the police when he was out to see his cousin Angelo. Lee vouched for the kid to the cops, took him in to live with him while the kid was on probation, saved him from a juvenile home, certain. Sal would do anythin’ for Lee.”

So would I, Jennifer thought, but that isn’t helping right now.

A doctor emerged from the private room, and everybody stood. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. He’s still unconscious.”

Everybody sat down again, dispiritedly. Rita Danbury patted Jennifer’s knee.

Dawn spoke up. “May I see him, Doctor?”

The doctor nodded. “Just for a minute,” he said. “Since you’re family.”

Jennifer turned to her, surprised.

Dawn met her glance. “I am a distant cousin,” she said. “But since the rest of Lee’s relatives are in Montana, I am taking responsibility.” She followed the doctor into the room.