The Secret Keeping (25 page)

Sharon sat up suddenly. “Is it? Well you’re hot shit aren’t you, dear Dr. Kristenson? My time is up! You want to step out on me? And how will you do that, hmm? When’s the last time you actually screwed a woman, Helaine?”

Helaine winced.

“Huh, Love Doc, hot shit? When?”

“You ought to know the answer to that.”

“And it is a woman, isn’t it?”

“Sharon…” Helaine glanced at her watch again.

“Say two years?” Sharon waited but there was no response. “Three years?” She stood up and walked to where Helaine sat rigid in her chair.

Yes, Helaine thought. Two, three years. “I get your point. Please go now.”

Sharon circled her. “Doesn’t that make you a bit rusty?”

Helaine rose up from the chair. Sharon stepped around it and blocked her escape.

“Was that your aim, Sharon? To make me rusty?” She turned her face away. “Sharon…your shirt.”

“Need a little practice before you take the plunge, Dr. Kristenson?”

They stood silently for a moment.

Helaine shook and hoped it didn’t show. “This, as you know, Ms. Chambers, is a very unbecoming way to–”

“Ms. Chambers? Bullshit! You’re mine, Helaine. I have a right to know what–”

“It’s over, Sharon. That’s all you need to know.” She held the door open and waited.

Sharon put her shoes on, looking up at her as she did it, with a smirk. “No, Dr. Kristenson,” Sharon replied, as she finally stepped into the hallway, “it’s only just begun.”

“If you come again you will be greeted by security. I’m sorry, but you’ve given me no choice.”

Jenny listened to the hushed voices in the hallway. They were moving toward her. She heard Sharon Chambers as clear as day.

“I love you, Helaine Kristenson, and that is all you need to know.”

“That is of no consequence to me now. That was something I needed to know before. Please, Sharon.

I’m asking you to go or I’ll have you removed.”

Jenny then heard only silence. She picked up the receiver of the telephone just as the model was turning the corner and paused to take a good look at her as she flew by. She had never seen the woman before except in magazines, but she didn’t like her at all. She waited till she was sure she was gone before checking in on Helaine.

“Dr. Kristenson?”

Helaine had her back against the wall, her hand on her forehead. “It’s fine, Jen. Don’t worry.”

“She told me she knew you very well, or I wouldn’t have–”

“It’s true, Jen.” She averted her eyes. “Knew, if you understand me.”

“Let me get you some water. You don’t look so good.”

“Thank you. I don’t feel so good.”

“I’ve never seen you so pale,” Jenny declared as she returned with a glass. “It’s a good thing that woman’s in the past tense, if you don’t mind my saying.”

Helaine shot her a worried glance and took the glass from her. “We hope,” was her cautious reply. She swirled the water in her mouth. She doubted water was strong enough to settle her nerves.

“Drink that,” Jenny said, her voice laden with concern. “And I’ve ordered lunch for you. It should be here in about fifteen minutes and maybe after that you should rest. You don’t have another appointment until this afternoon.”

“What time?”

“One o’clock.”

“Thanks, Jen. I need to make a phone call. Let me know when the food arrives.”

_____

“Dr. Kristenson here. Is the doctor in?”

“Hey, how are you? Long time no see.”

“Jon…good…you have five minutes?”

“I’ll see your five and raise you ten, as long as it’s strip poker.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad I called already.”

“Anything wrong?”

“Yeeahhhuhh…not really. Pep talk. Up to it?”

“Anytime. Shoot.”

“Have a date. Anxiety.”

“A date? Congratulations! Anxiety…you?”

“Happens to everyone?”

“Well…no. Thoughts of?”

“Fear. Failure. Mortality.”

“Oh, is that all? What about sex or love?”

“Those, too.”

“List them in order of importance, please.”

“Let’s see. Love, sex, fear, failure, mortality.”

“Hmmmph. Sounds healthy to me…except maybe the love.”

“You’re funny.”

“Take two thrills and call me in the morning.”

She laughed in her throat. “No, really, Jon.”

“It’s like riding a bike, Helaine. You just get on the saddle and pump your legs and it all comes back to you.”

“Boy, you’re blunt sometimes.”

“Whew! I even stunned myself on that one. You do know how to ride a bike?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t sound convinced. It can’t be that serious?”

“Is.”

“Is? Well, that’s the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“Love. No see long time. Emotional amnesia. Sexual paralysis.”

“Sounds fatal.”

“Nah, it’s just a bug. You’ll get over it. LOVE is what Helaine Kristenson does. You understand me, Helaine Kristenson?”

“Thank you, Jon. You’re very kind. Jenny’s buzzing, I think my lunch just got here. I better let you go.”

“Yeah. I got people waiting with real problems. Hey, see you tomorrow night? I’ve got tickets.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Friday, your lecture? Eight o’clock, Dr. Kristenson. Wow! I see what you mean. Let me hear that list again.”

She opened her date book. There it was. (Oh, no, no, no. Lydia.) “I see it. You’re right, Jon. Eight o’clock.

Lecture at eight thirty. I’ll talk to you tomorrow night then.”

“Good luck, Helaine. See you then. And hey…”

“Yes?”

“You know where to find me if…well…you know?”

“Thanks, Jon.”

_____

Morally supported by Delilah, Lydia waited outside on the patio at Frank’s on Friday. It was almost seven o’clock. They were drinking their martinis and making small talk when a cab pulled up to the curb and Helaine stepped out. Delilah nudged sharply with her elbow.

“Ouch,” Lydia blurted, not having seen Helaine yet.

“Ouch,” Delilah said, “hot dress, over there.”

Lydia turned in that direction.

Dressed in dinner black, her hair down, a coat slung over her arm, a happy blond held the car door open as she searched the crowd for her date, returning the waiter’s wave with a discreet wink and smiling broadly when she finally saw Lydia approaching.

“Ah, here is my enchantress.”

They got in the cab.

“Enchantress? Did you know that’s a boat that disappeared in the Bermuda Triangle?”

“Goodness, no. Are you a ghost ship, Lydia Beaumont?”

“Where to now?” inquired the cabby. She turned her radio down.

“No,” Lydia whispered, “I’m real.”

The cabby’s question floated past them. “Lydia…”

“Where to, ladies?”

“Oh, uptown. Drive uptown, please.”

The cab pulled away from the curb and darted into the late day traffic.

_____

Lawrence Taft, armed with his digital camera, watched with ambivalence as the cab left Frank’s Place. It was kind of a pity to see Sharon Chambers right about the doctor. And by the looks of the other woman, the model had good reason to be concerned.

He studied the image of them in his view screen, a strong sense of nostalgia creeping into his bones. He missed the finality that the whir and clack of a 35mm shutter could lend to these kind of affairs.

Whirrrrrrrrrr…clack! It was as conclusive as the sound of the guillotine. It said “Gotcha!” in a way that modern technology just couldn’t.

_____

“Lydia Beaumont, I have made a gaff, tonight. I have a prior speaking engagement. At the convention center.” Helaine leaned forward and spoke to the cabby again. “The convention center by eight. And please drive slowly. Lydia? May I see you after that?”

“See me–of course. When?”

“Nine-thirty? I’ve been out of my mind this week. I couldn’t blame you if–”

“My place,” Lydia interrupted. “I’m sorry…my place, Helaine,” she repeated, reaching into her breast pocket and producing her calling card. “Show that to the doorman. He’ll let you go right up. Unless…if you don’t want to…would you want to do that?”

Helaine took the card. “Elegant,” she whispered as she slid it inside her dress. “I would want to do that,” she assured, laying the coat between them and sitting back. “That’s exactly what I would want to do.”

“Me, too, by the way.”

“You?”

“Out of my mind this week.”

“Oh…I apologize. I made you worry. I didn’t see Sha–” She stopped herself. “I didn’t go to the flat.” She squeezed Lydia’s hand and let it go quickly.

“But you told her? I mean, she knows?”

“She knows it’s over. It’s been that way a long time.”

They sat back quietly, allowing the cab to toss them toward each other and away again as the vehicle wove gently through the traffic. The cabby sized them up in the mirror and confident she understood the situation, selected a CD, popping it in and turning the volume up. Good choice, she thought. (Sinatra.) It was still hot, late summer, but the days were getting short once more, the nights long and cool.

Through the windshield the ladies could see the sun dropping on the city like a bomb. A bright red sunset spread across the horizon, reflecting off the skyscrapers and glowing in hot pink squares from every window.

“Tour it?” the cabby suggested.

Helaine gave her a puzzled look.

“Yes,” Lydia said quickly, “tour it, please.”

The cab took a side street. Helaine smiled to herself. Lydia leaned across the jacket and kissed her.

“What is your speech about?” she asked.

Helaine slipped her finger between Lydia’s lips and quickly withdrew it. “You. For ten minutes I shall speak of nothing but Lydia Beaumont. About her eyes. For another twenty I will tell them about her lips.”

She folded her hands in her lap and rested her head against the back of the seat. “And I mustn’t forget to mention those arms and those legs.” She closed her eyes. Lydia lay against her, kissed her neck. “Or your fabulous back,” Helaine continued softly. “What would you say to that speech?”

“I’d say, you better not, Helaine. I value my anonymity. How do you feel about yours?”

Helaine reached out and adjusted an errant strand of dark hair. “I’ve enjoyed mine.”

The sun was gone now, the last of its flame settling into an orange mist around the city, the last rays bouncing off the walls and casting long shadows in their retreat. In a few moments they would surrender completely, relinquishing their glory to that of lamp lights and neon.

It was already dark in the cab. Lydia kissed a bare shoulder, a long arm, a perfumed wrist, tongued the soft palm of an outstretched hand as it lay like jewel on a slippery, satin lap. Black satin. Her cheek brushed against the slick fabric. It was as cool as the night, descending on the city like a blanket.

The dark-haired woman disappeared from the rearview mirror and the experienced cabby, seeing the park looming ahead on the right, pulled out of traffic and idled curbside, taking a place behind a caravan of other taxicabs. Sinatra sang unfettered by propriety.

Helaine took stock of the situation. The cavalcade stretched nearly the entire length of the block. She must have passed this scene a thousand times and never recognized it for what it was.

The driver made herself invisible, eyes vanishing from the mirror.

Discretion, Helaine mused, Lydia’s head in her lap...one hand resting on her thigh, the other at her hip…her lips at her fingertips…her lips…it was not necessary to discuss this, Helaine understood…the cabby would wait for hours if told to…these polite hands…this woman’s card in her bra… you can call me, Sinatra promised…a wet palm…Helaine bent over her and combed the dark hair with her fingers. She had to be somewhere soon. Remember? “Lydia?”

Lydia didn’t answer.

“Lydia, Lydia.” The dark head turned in her hand and partially faced her. Helaine stroked the woman’s mouth with her thumb. “What are you thinking?”

“Thinking–something primal, I’m afraid. Where are we?”

“At the park. It seems we’re part of a posse,” Helaine joked, looking back again. “Have you…have you ever been here before? Like this, I mean?”

Lydia grinned. “No.” She wet her lips and kissed the finger. “You?”

“No, not me,” Helaine said, smiling at the thought of it. She parted Lydia’s lips with her thumb. “First time for everything–tell me primal.”

“What time is it?”

Helaine checked her watch. “Quarter past.”

Lydia gripped the tip of Helaine’s finger and let it go when she felt her jump. “Tell me about the building across from my office, specifically the twelfth floor.”

Helaine chuckled. “Ummm…what do you want to know about it?”

“Oh, everything.”

“Hmmm. Across from me, on the fifteenth floor. There’s a beautiful woman up there in the window sometimes. Quite beautiful. I happened to notice her one day.”

“Uh-oh, I’m fond of my window. When was that, Helaine?” She licked at the fingertip once more, pressed her mouth into a trembling palm.

Helaine took a deep breath. “That was…I’m not too sure now…ummmmm…I’d have to…say…two years ago?” Her other hand went to the back of Lydia’s head, into the silky hair. “Do you know what you do in your window?”

“No, but I’m going to guess that you like it.” She bit gently at Helaine’s hand, licked between each finger, grabbing the thumb between her teeth and teasing it inside her mouth.

Helaine gasped.

Lydia released and looked up. “Do you?”

“Like it…I like it…yes,” she replied as she ran her hand along Lydia’s shoulders and slid downward in the seat. “Very much.”

“Go on. Frank’s Place. Helaine followed me there?”

“I followed you.”

Lydia sighed and rested her forehead on Helaine’s abdomen. “You followed me for two years?” She kissed the black satin folds and hid her face in them. They felt like bed sheets to her now, the stomach, a pillow. “Why on earth didn’t you say something to me?”

“On earth? On earth you and I were with other people.”

Lydia thought about that for awhile. Helaine’s hand lay beneath her. She lifted herself and brushed her body against it as she rose. “Kiss me,” she finally said.