State Secrets (13 page)

Her coffee had cooled; she took a steadying sip. Maybe David was right. Maybe there was a chance, if they could just approach the situation rationally and take their time. “No lovemaking,” she ventured. “We have to start all over again, from square one. Agreed?”

David sighed. “Agreed,” he replied with comic reluctance.

Their flight number was called and they left the table, David pausing to pay the check. Holly was settled into her seat on the airplane, pretending to read a magazine, when he caught up with her.

“Very cute,” he muttered wryly, falling into his seat on the aisle.

Holly peered at him over the rims of her reading glasses, which she was certain he had never seen before. “Have we been introduced?” she asked primly.

David laughed and rolled his eyes.

The condominium David selected as his new home was in a round building, three floors from the top, and every outer wall was a window. The view was phenomenal, including Riverfront Park, the Spokane River itself and the old brick railroad tower. Division Street was a double strand of diamonds glimmering in the first shadows of twilight.

He sat down on the lushly carpeted floor, drew his knees up and wondered whether he was doing the right thing, uprooting himself like this. Maybe he hadn’t liked his job, per se, but he was going to miss the excitement of living in Washington. He was going to miss Chris and his nieces. And his friends.

He stood up again, taking in the spacious, as-yet-unfurnished living room. Holly was here; that was the important thing. Chris and the girls could visit as soon as school let out. And he would make new friends.

The telephone sat on the floor, looking forlorn in the empty vastness of the room. David moved toward it, then held himself back. He’d promised to go slowly with Holly, promised not to pressure her. And he had to abide by those promises.

He went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, which contained a quart of buttermilk and a red-and-white
bucket with one chicken wing in the bottom. David gnawed at that as he wandered from one elegant room to another, pondering the lengths he’d gone to just to be near Holly and regretting none of them.

The telephone rang, echoing in the emptiness, and David ambled toward the nearest one, expecting to hear from the real-estate agency or maybe the law school, where he was registered for review classes.

“David?” The familiar shrill of that voice almost made him choke on the chicken he’d been munching. “God, if you knew what I’ve been through, trying to track you down! I practically had to bribe Chris—”

“Marleen,” David said woodenly. “Marleen?”

“I’m on leave,” she chimed in bright response, as though she had never walked out when he’d needed her. As though she had never torn his guts out and stomped on them.

“What does that have to do with me?” he managed to ask, hoping that he didn’t sound as hollow as he felt.

“We were married!” she sang. “Doesn’t that entitle me to call up and say hello, David?”

“I find it hard to believe that you called just to say hello. What do you want? Money?”

There was a silence. “David!” Marleen wailed in injured good humor. “What an awful thing to say! We loved each other once.”

“How are your monkeys?”

“Well, if you’re going to be that way—”

David closed his eyes and the old pain was a sickness within him. He wished that Holly were there. “Wait,” he said. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Good.” Marleen sounded pleased and perhaps a little
relieved, which worried David. “Listen, sweetheart, I’m in L.A. right now, visiting the folks and all that.” She paused, lowering her voice, presumably so the “folks” wouldn’t overhear. “It’s just a deadly bore, David, so I was wondering, well, since Spokane is a fairly short flight from here—”

“No,” David broke in.

“No?”

David sat down on the floor, his head throbbing. He tossed the denuded chicken wing, because if he hadn’t, he’d have tossed the telephone instead. “I mean, I’m just getting settled in here. And I’m flying back to Washington to sublet my place there and make arrangements for my furniture to be shipped. I really don’t have time—”

“David, I was your wife!”

“You were the greatest single mistake of my life, Marleen,” he said, thinking aloud.

He could almost see her pouting, see the tears welling in her enormous brown eyes.

“I guess I should have known I was going to get this kind of reception,” she said. “Chris was positively cold when I called her.”

David’s head was pounding. “Look, Marleen, if you want money for some research project, apply for a grant. I really don’t want to talk to you. And I sure as hell don’t want to see you.”

She sounded coy now, and just a little predatory. “Maybe you’re scared, David. Scared that I might make you care again.”

“If that’s what you have in mind, don’t waste your time. I’m in love with somebody else.”

The moment that last sentence was out of his mouth, David knew it had been a terrible mistake. Marleen enjoyed a challenge, and saying that had been as good as flinging down a glove.

Having said too damned much already, David calmly and abruptly hung up the telephone. It rang again moments later; he lifted the receiver and dropped it into place.

The next morning, at twenty-five minutes after seven, he crawled, grumbling, out of the sleeping bag he had spread out in his future bedroom. The doorbell buzzed repeatedly as he groped into his jeans and stumbled, cursing under his breath, to open the door.

Marleen stood in the hallway, her big teeth bared in a smile that brought the jungles of Borneo to mind, her light brown, chin-length hair artfully rumpled.

“Mountain,” she said, “meet Mohammed.”

David groaned and rubbed his eyes. Maybe this was a bad dream. Maybe he was hallucinating.

“Aren’t you going to ask me in?” Marleen wanted to know. “I could really use a cup of coffee and a hot shower.”

“There are hotels all over town,” David said, barring her way. “Check into one.”

“I don’t have the money to do that. I spent it all to fly home from Borneo and then come up here.”

David cursed, making no effort to keep his voice down, but Marleen only laughed and shouldered her way past him, a suitcase in each hand, her eyes sweeping the empty condominium.

“I’ll pay for your hotel,” he offered lamely. It was too late and he knew it; short of throwing Marleen out bodily, which he considered doing, his choices were limited.

“Oh, David, stop being so tiresome. I’m not here to cause you any trouble.”

“Then why?”

“For old time’s sake, that’s all. And maybe for a slight—” she winced appealingly “—contribution.”

“Anything for your monkeys, Marleen,” David said with biting grandeur, his arms sweeping out from his sides.

“Stop calling them ‘monkeys,’” came the controlled response. “They’re chimpanzees and they are an important link to the past.”

“Are they? As far as I’m concerned, they’re small, noisy, furry beasts that pick bugs off each other’s hides for a snack.”

Marleen set down her suitcases, her eyes flashing even though she was still smiling determinedly. “I didn’t expect you to be so bitter after all this time, David. I really didn’t.”

“Bitter? Me?” David retorted acidly. “Why would I be bitter, Marleen? Why the goddamned hell would I be
bitter?
”

She subsided a little, her chocolate-colored eyes wide and suspiciously moist. “I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

“Oh, thank you. That makes everything all right. I can feel my ulcers and residual neuroses healing right now!”

Marleen sat down on one of her battered suitcases, a forlorn, elfin creature in a rumpled raincoat, her face in her hands. “Oh, David, don’t do this to me,” she whispered. “Please—”

David stormed away from her into his bedroom. He’d packed for the flight to Washington the day before, and he was going to leave early. Pale with rage, he showered, then dressed in slacks, a white sweater and a sports jacket.

When he reached the living room, his own suitcase in hand, the hopes he’d had that Marleen would just go away went up in smoke. Her baggage was still sitting there, and he could hear her humming in the kitchen, the sound blending in with the chortling of the coffeepot.

“Damn,” he rasped, wondering what to do, how to get Marleen out of his house, out of his life. The answer was a four-figure drop in his bank balance; he wrote out a check with violent strokes of his pen, laid the payoff beneath the handle of one of her suitcases and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Downstairs, he got into one of the cabs that were almost always on hand, muttering to himself. He would be gone for a couple of weeks, he supposed, making arrangements for his furniture to be moved, saying various goodbyes, giving away several hundred tropical fish.

Surely, by the time he’d driven his car across country—he needed the distance and monotony of the task to think—Marleen would have gone back to Borneo and her monkeys.

T
he circular building towered over Riverfront Park. Holding Toby’s model Cessna in both hands, Holly gazed up at it.

“Are we going to visit David?” Toby demanded eagerly, tugging at the sleeve of her pink Windbreaker. “Are we, Mom?”

The bright, springlike shine of that late January day caused a painful catch in Holly’s heart, as did Toby’s question. It had been a full week since she and David had parted at the airport, agreeing to start over again. He had called just once in that time, and that had only been to pass on his new telephone number and address; he hadn’t suggested they get together. Holly’s feelings about that were mixed.

Toby tugged at her sleeve again, more forcefully this time. “Mom?” he prompted. “Couldn’t we? Please?”

She looked down at the little boy and smiled. “Okay. We’ll ask if he wants to come down here and fly the plane with us.”

“And ride the carousel!” Toby beamed. “Don’t forget, you promised that we could ride the carousel!”

They walked across the rolling, snow-patched lawns of the park, Toby straining to rush ahead, Holly holding back a little, wondering if it was wise to approach David. After all, they had an agreement, and she still had contradictory feelings toward him, stemming from the way they’d met.

“Toby, maybe we shouldn’t…” She hesitated when they reached the main door of the exclusive building. There was a doorman on duty, perhaps he wouldn’t even let them pass.

“Come on, Mom,” Toby insisted, dragging her up to the entrance.

As the doorman looked her over, Holly was painfully conscious of her battered blue jeans, her T-shirt and Windbreaker, her breeze-tumbled hair.

“May I help you?” asked the sentinel, his deep, rumbling voice ringing with genteel authority.

“My name is Holly Llewellyn and this is—”

The doorman’s round face broke into a smile. “Go right up, Ms. Llewellyn. I can’t say whether or not Mr. Goddard is at home, but I have orders to admit you at any time.”

Holly was relieved; inwardly, she realized, she had been expecting to be turned away. Things were shaky between her and David, and there was always the possibility that he had decided their relationship wasn’t worth the trouble.

She and Toby crossed the sumptuous, plant-filled lobby. There were two sets of elevators.

“What floor does David live on?” Toby queried when they were inside one of the elevators, his hand poised to punch the proper button.

“Seven,” Holly answered immediately, then bit her lower lip. Her eagerness was showing, and she had to get
it under control. Letting David Goddard see how easily he could sway her would be foolish.

They arrived on the seventh floor in a whisk and stepped out into a spacious entryway, decorated, like the lobby, with plants.

David’s condominium apparently took up the entire floor, for there was only one door in sight. Holly’s hand trembled a little as she reached out to ring the bell. She drew a deep breath and summoned up a brave smile just as the door swung open.

A lovely woman wearing a colorful robe answered the door. “Yes?”

Holly was speechless, her imagination running away from her. Toby, on the other hand, had the presence of mind to ask ingenuously, “Is this where David Goddard lives?”

Wide brown eyes swept over Holly’s Saturday-in-the-park clothes. “Yes, it is. I’m afraid David isn’t home right now, though.”

Holly, having surrendered the airplane to Toby, wedged her hands into the pockets of her Windbreaker. A woman—good God,
a woman
. She tried not to panic or jump to conclusions, but her emotions were so raw where David was concerned that she had almost no control over them. “Are you his sister?” she dared to ask.

The woman laughed, running one hand through her soft brown hair. “Good heavens, no. I’m his wife.”

“His wife?” Toby echoed, confused.

Holly was outwardly calm. She squared her shoulders, caught Toby’s free hand in her own and turned back toward the elevator. Over one shoulder, she said, “I’m sorry we bothered you.”

“No problem,” Mrs. David Goddard responded lightly, with a shrug of her silk-clad shoulders. “Shall I tell David you were here?”

Holly debated with herself for a moment, gnawing at her lower lip. “No,” she said finally. “Don’t tell him anything.”

The concern in Toby’s upturned face wrenched at Holly’s heart. He was too young to understand this sort of betrayal, and she wondered how she would explain it all to him.

“I didn’t get your names!” sang out the remarkably calm wife of the man Holly loved as the doors were closing.

“Toby and Holly!” the little boy shouted just before the doors swept shut.

Holly let go of her nephew’s hand and sagged against the elevator wall, her hands gripping the polished brass railing, her eyes squeezed closed against tears of rage and hurt.

“What’s-a-matter, Mom?” Toby wanted to know.

Holly dragged in a steadying breath and lifted her chin. “Nothing, Tobe. Nothing at all. Let’s go back to the park and fly your plane, okay?”

“Okay,” Toby agreed somewhat sadly. “But I wanted David to be with us.”

“So did I,” Holly replied with despairing dignity. “But sometimes things just don’t turn out the way we hope they will.”

Somehow, Holly got through the rest of that day, watching Toby’s plane buzz in wide circles against a hurtfully blue sky, riding the fabled antique carousel, even
choking down a hot dog. It was much later, when Toby had reluctantly taken his bath and tumbled into bed, that she sank into the chair at her desk in the kitchen, lowered her head to her arms and wept.

Being fooled once was bad enough; being fooled twice was devastating. Holly vowed that this was the last time, the very last time, that she would ever cry over David Goddard and his lies.

The trip across country had been a grueling one, and David was tired as he unlocked the door of his new condominium. He asked only one thing of the mysterious forces guiding the lives of mere mortals: that Marleen’s failure to answer his telephone for the last week and a half meant that she was gone.

The movers had arrived ahead of him, and the furniture and crates they’d delivered looked ghostly in the dim light straying in through the open drapes. He paused a moment before flipping on the lights.

“Marleen?”

No answer. David shrugged out of his rumpled overcoat and flung aside the one suitcase he’d bothered to take with him.
There is a God,
he thought.

He checked the bedroom, which was full of boxes containing clothes and books, bed linens and towels. The bed had been set up, and he was grateful for that—now he wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor or the couch.

“Marleen?” he ventured again. And that was when he saw the note affixed to the headboard of his bed with a piece of tape.

He snatched it into one hand, a peculiar sort of dread
niggling in the pit of his stomach. “Darling,” Marleen had written in a hand that resembled the efforts of one of her beloved apes. “I’ve gone back to my work. Thanks for the check and your backhanded hospitality. By the way, Holly came by. Is she your new love? I think she was surprised to find me here, and she said not to tell you that she stopped in. Ciao, Marleen.”

David crumpled the note into a ball and flung it away on the strength of a growled curse. What Holly must have thought, encountering Marleen, of all people, was all too obvious.

He picked up the trail of the phone cord and followed it until he found the telephone beneath a pile of rumpled bath towels. Marleen had always been a slob. Holly’s number leaped to his mind, but his finger hesitated over the buttons. It was late and this debacle called for more delicate handling than a midnight telephone call. Flowers, at the least, and some very fast talking.

David stiffened as he drew his hand back from the telephone. Dammit, why was he ready to grovel and beg when he hadn’t done anything wrong? Whatever impression Marleen might have given—and he suspected that she had played the moment for every possible ounce of drama—the fact remained that he wasn’t involved with her and hadn’t been in years. Holly was a rational person and she would understand. She had to understand.

Too exhausted to think about the situation further, David staggered into the bathroom and took a long, hot shower, before making his way back to the bed. Marleen hadn’t bothered to make it up again before she left, but he
didn’t care. He flung back the comforter and collapsed, falling asleep within seconds.

The next day was Saturday, and he awakened late. Standing at the windowed wall of his kitchen, he looked out over Riverfront Park, a cup of coffee in his hand, pondering the best way to approach Holly.

The weather was cold and sunny and there were a number of inveterate outdoor people in the park. He could see the carousel turning, a colorful blur inside its glass walls, and the sight uplifted him.

Momentarily, his eyes were drawn back to a small figure dashing in mad circles on the grass. David squinted and bent forward, trying to see. He couldn’t so he opened a sliding door and went out onto the balcony surrounding his condo on all sides, resting his arms against the wrought-iron railing.

With the small person was a slightly larger one. One with golden honey hair that shimmered in the sunshine of a false spring.

David grinned, went back inside, shutting the door behind him, and set his coffee cup aside with a resolute thump. He rummaged through boxes in the recreation room until he found his own model airplane, then put on a dark blue Windbreaker and went out.

He sprinted across the park until he was close enough to hear the buzz of Toby’s plane, close enough to see them both. Toby was watching, his face upturned and bright with delight, while Holly skillfully executed swoops and dips and sharp turns with the radio-controlled toy.

Holly became aware of his presence by some sixth sense and turned to confirm the dizzying fact with her
eyes. David was standing not twenty yards away, holding his airplane in his hands, watching her and Toby.

He looked fantastic in his jeans, navy blue pullover and Windbreaker, but Holly wasn’t going to let things like that sidetrack her. Not this time. Gritting her teeth, she worked the handset, guiding her airplane in his direction in a wide sweep. “Bombs away,” she whispered with evil relish as she plunged the Lilliputian craft into a dive directed straight at his head. “Mom!” Toby bellowed, appalled.

David crouched, just barely escaping the airplane; it buzzed into another turn and came back toward him.

“Mom, don’t!” Toby shrieked. “Don’t! You’ll hurt him.”

“I want to hurt him,” Holly replied grimly as David fell facedown in the snow-laced ground to avoid having a miniature Cessna embedded in his back. “Oh, boy, do I want to hurt him.”

“Will you stop it!” David roared. Holly noted with satisfaction that the man had no sense of humor. “You’re going to kill me!”

Holly brought the plane down again, letting it pass within inches of David’s head. Toby, his face flushed with righteous indignation—he’d had lecture after lecture on how to operate that airplane safely—wrenched the controls out of her hands and guided the plane in for a smooth landing.

David sprang to his feet, his eyes snapping, a white line of annoyance edging his jaw. “If you’re not happy to see me,” he hissed, “just say so!”

Toby was looking frantically from one adult to the other, tears shimmering in his eyes, the handset shaking
in his hands. “That was a crazy thing to do, Mom!” he shouted.

Looking down at him, Holly softened.

“You’re damned right it was!” yelled David.

Holly shifted her gaze from Toby to David, piercing him with it. And then she turned on her heel and stomped away, toward the carousel, Toby scrambling along beside her like a puppy.

David halted her progress from behind, catching her elbow in his grasp and handing his airplane to Toby in one simultaneous motion. “If this wasn’t a public place, lady, I would turn you over my knee,” he said through his teeth.

Holly wrenched her arm free. “Stay away from me, you creep!”

“Mom!”
Toby wailed, mortified.

She plunged one hand into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out a string of tickets. “Here!” she said to her nephew, with uncommon impatience. “Go and ride the carousel!”

Toby looked uncertain, his china-blue eyes again darting from Holly’s face to David’s.

“Go ahead, slugger,” David urged in a gruff undertone, taking both toy planes from the little boy’s arms. “Everything is going to be all right.”

After one more glance at Holly, one so wary and concerned that it made her wince inwardly, Toby bounded off to enter the round building housing the carousel. The music of the calliope seemed ludicrous, in light of the situation.

His jaw still working with suppressed outrage, David set the planes aside and lifted his hands to his hips,
watching Holly, his gaze burning into her face and finally forcing her to lift furious, tear-blurred eyes.

“What did Marleen tell you?” he asked when he had her full attention.

Holly shrugged, though she was on the verge of flinging herself at David Goddard kicking and scratching and hissing like a she-cat. Her whole body quivered with the need to attack, to hurt. “Only that she is your wife,” she said, marveling at the calmness of her voice. She had expected the words to come out as a shriek.

“And you immediately decided that I had lied to you again,” David muttered. Damn him, he didn’t look the least bit apologetic; instead, he appeared angry enough to forget that this was a public place and make good on the threat he had issued earlier.

Some of Holly’s indignation faded away, driving a slow, pink blush up over her cheeks. “When presented with the evidence, I naturally—”

“You naturally found me guilty!”

Holly retreated a step. “She said—”

“I can imagine what she said! The truth is that we’ve been divorced for years, just like I told you before!”

People were beginning to stare and the calliope music went merrily on. Holly was getting a headache. “She had on a bathrobe. She was in your apartment—”

“And I was on my way to Washington,” David broke in again, more calmly this time, though his tone sliced deep.