Together Alone (21 page)

Still, the sound that came out held an element of self-consciousness. “I swear, I wasn’t looking for this.”

“Don’t feel guilty.”

“I do. I
am
.”

“You’re beautiful, is what you are.”

She was a mess—hair rumpled, face naked—but his eyes mirrored his words, making her believe.

“You’re also sexy,” he said.

“I don’t know about that.”

“Trust me. You are.”

She thought of the dreams she’d been having, dreams of skin on skin, of hands touching forbidden places and breath whispering into private nooks. “Maybe,” she conceded with a blush.

“Sexy. Oh, yeah.” He smiled, then settled onto the pillow and drew her to face him. Looking at him that way, she felt a whole new wave of desire.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m—uh—I don’t know how to handle this.”
Just this once
, she had sworn, but that once was over, so what in the
hell
was she feeling?

“Handle what?”

“This. I didn’t expect it.” Her eyes grew pleading as they roamed his face. “What am I going to do?” she whispered, because that new wave of desire was making her want to melt against him again. “He’s my husband. I believe in fidelity. If he was unfaithful to me, I’d be crushed.”

Brian brushed his fingers over her mouth, then her cheeks before sliding them into her hair, and all the while his eyes held hers, airing need and desire, even love, if she chose to believe it.

She gasped when he slid a hand low on her belly over the spot where she was still sensitive.

His voice was hoarse. “I love that sound, your surprise when you feel it. You did it wherever I touched you before.”

She gasped again when his fingers slid deeper. “Brian.”

“Mmmmm.”

“I can’t do this.”

“Does it feel good?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Do you want it?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then let me love you.”

Being loved was all she had ever wanted. It was why she had married Doug so young, why she had set aside her own pain over the years and made a pleasing cocoon for Jill and him. It was why, she supposed, she was drawn to Brian, who had offered compassion and affection and need right from the start.

She didn’t think of Doug or Jill. For once, she thought of herself—something new—and of Brian. She touched him, and found new excitement in the touching, and when he was huge in her hand, she tasted a new sense of power. Rather than being threatened, as Doug would have been, he coaxed her on with low words and the smooth shifts of his body, until she pulled him to her. Their coupling was wild, less gentle than before and shocking, as she thought of it later, not that she would have stopped or slowed the pace or sought anything milder. Fierceness was another new experience. She found it exciting beyond belief.

This time when it was done, breathless laughter mingled with moans. Brian clutched her close, his mouth to her hair. “
Jesus
. What did you
do
?”

“I don’t know. I just
did
. What did
you
do?”

“Beats me, but it sure felt good.”

Ahh, it had. If she was to be damned for betraying Doug, at least she had enjoyed herself in the process.

Brian’s chest was damp, the hair there curled, dark gold and masculine. She looked down his body to those parts that were even more so. When she looked up again, it was in amazement at what she had done and felt,
still
felt.

Suddenly Brian’s eyes went wide. “Christ.” In the instant he was out of her arms and the bed, and running into Julia’s room. He reappeared moments later, resting briefly against the doorjamb, before crossing the room and returning to bed. “She’s still sleeping. Some father I am. I forgot all about her.”

Emily had, too. “We would have heard if she was worse.”

“Not me. I was gone.”

“Really?”

“Totally.” He looked down at her. “You sound surprised.”

“Doug was never totally gone.”

He settled her in his arms. “Well, I was.”

She felt him relax, felt his breathing slow and grow rhythmic with the approach of sleep. “I should go,” she whispered.

“Noooo,” he whispered back and drew her closer.

Being wanted was a heady experience. More than heady. Irresistible. Would it hurt to stay the night? Just this once. It had been so long since she had slept wrapped up in a man, so long since she’d had that comfort. One night wouldn’t hurt.

Come morning, she would face what she had done. For now, she curled close.

Dawn brought the inevitable guilt and the realization that making love with Brian added another wrinkle to an already overwrinkled life. But Emily was a survivor. She lived one day at a time.

Doug would be home Friday afternoon.

Jill would be home Friday evening.

Brian would be nothing more than the man renting the apartment over the garage.

Emily was an expert at pushing troubles from mind—first Daniel’s disappearance, then Doug’s career. So now she refused to dwell on what she had done with Brian.

There would be time. But not now.

Jill arrived on the five o’clock bus. Quite content to leave Doug at the health club, Emily met her and held her and didn’t stop grinning once, not during the tour of Grannick that Jill insisted on, nor during the triumphant drive down China Pond Road, nor during the excited exit from the car, the eager entrance to the house.

When the phone rang, Emily fully expected it to be for Jill, but it was Celeste, in a mild panic. “I have no idea where Dawn is. I thought for sure she’d be here by midafternoon. She told me a friend was driving her home, or I’d have picked her up. No one answers her dorm phone.”

“When did you talk with her last?” Emily had seen her on Wednesday afternoon.

“She called Tuesday. Briefly. She’s still angry because I wouldn’t let her visit Jill last weekend, but I didn’t see the point, with Jill here
this
weekend.”

Suspicious, Emily put the mouthpiece to her neck and asked Jill, “When was the last time you talked with Dawn?”

Jill looked at her watch. “Five hours ago.”

“Where was she then?”

“In my dorm room. She’s been visiting since Wednesday night.” Eyes narrowing, she took the phone from Emily. “She’s staying one more day. She told me you knew.”

“No, I didn’t!” Emily could hear Celeste cry. “She said she’d be home today. How is she getting here tomorrow?”

“She met a guy. He’ll give her a ride.”

“What guy?”

“He’s the friend of a girl on my floor.”

“Give me your mother.”

With a look that was expectant to the point of parody, Jill handed the phone to Emily.

“She met a guy,” Celeste started right in. “Swell. Does she need one in every port?”

Emily remembered the list of five men—or was it six—that had come from Celeste’s ad. “He may just be a friend.”

“She is an impossible child.”

“She’s not a child. That’s what she’s trying to tell you.”

“Well, don’t
you
think a trip to Boston last weekend would have been dumb?”

“Yes, but she didn’t, and she’s saying that she’s of age and can do what she wants.”

“On my dime.”

“On Jackson’s dime. Give her room, Celeste.”

“Do you give Jill room?”

Emily hooked an arm through Jill’s. “I don’t have to. She isn’t a rebel.”

“Well, you’re the lucky one, then. I have a major problem.”

“No, you don’t. Just grant that Dawn is eighteen. I thought you
wanted
her to be independent.”

“Not when I’m waiting for her to come through the door.”

“Then let her know you were worried.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Mom,” Jill whispered, “can I run over to the Davies’s before Dad gets home?”

Emily nodded and let her go. To Celeste, she said, “You’re coming over with her tomorrow night, aren’t you?” Jill was having a homecoming party. Doug wasn’t pleased with the prospect of young bodies traipsing in and out, but Jill wanted it, and Emily was feeling defiant. Jill hadn’t been home in seven weeks. Doug had, for what little he chose.

“We’ll be there, if she ever gets home,” Celeste said. “How many are coming?”

“How many, Jill?”

Jill turned back at the door. “Twenty, maybe twenty-five.” She turned again just as Brian and Julia appeared through the glass.

Emily felt a frisson of excitement. She had been waiting for weeks to show Jill off to Brian. “Gotta run, Celeste. Stay sweet?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

She hung up the phone and joined Jill at the door. “Jill, meet Brian and Julia.”

“Hi,” Jill said with a bright smile. “So you’re the guys who’ve taken over my playroom?”

“Sure are,” Brian answered.

To Julia, in a childlike way, Jill said, “Well hel-lo. You’re a pretty little girl.”

“Can you say ‘hi’?” Brian asked Julia, but Julia just stared at Jill. “It takes her a while. Your face is new to her. Not to me, though. I’ve seen pictures. You have one proud mother.”

Jill blushed. “Of course, she isn’t biased.”

“Perish the thought.”

“Mom says your place is great.”

“Want to see?”

“Can I later? I have to see a friend before my dad gets home.”

“Sure.” Brian held the door wider for her to pass. “Drive carefully.” When she looked back in amusement, he gave a sheepish smile and shrugged.

Jill laughed. “If you hadn’t said it, Mom would have.”

“Drive
carefully
,” Emily called for good measure and watched her back out of the driveway.

“She’s you,” Brian remarked.

“That’s what Doug says when he doesn’t like what she’s doing.”

“Doug’s a jerk,” he said, which was one of the things Emily liked about him. He stuck up for her. He didn’t blame her for losing her son. Even aside from the physical, he made her feel good.

Not that the physical was easily set aside. There was a new intimacy in his eyes—those incredibly penetrating eyes—that suggested indecent things. They made her feel naked and hot. They made her blush.

Looking away, she took the baby’s hand. “How’s Julia?”

“Better than she was.”

“Good. Will you come to our party tomorrow night?”

“Both of us?”

“Sure. Doug will be in and out, but John and Kay will be there, and Celeste, and all of Jill’s friends.” Plenty of people. Perfectly safe. “The girls will go wild over Julia.”

He gave her a heart-stopping grin. “Thanks. We’ll stop by.” He backed away from the door. “Enjoy Jill.”

“I plan to.”

His eyes held hers as he went sideways down the stairs. “Have a nice dinner.”

“You, too.”

“What are you serving?”

“Veal piccata. It’s Jill’s favorite.”

“Mine, too,” he said with a naughty smile.

“You can’t come.”

“I figured that.” He was walking backward across the driveway. “Don’t stay up too late talking with Jill.”

She grinned and shrugged. When he finally turned, she dragged in a breath. Between his grin and his eyes and that long, hard body of his, she was aquiver. She stood for a minute at the door with her hand on her chest, steadying the beat of her heart, chastising herself for being so susceptible to a man who wasn’t her husband.

Then she banished the thought.

Jill was home, Doug was home, they were a family again, having veal piccata for dinner.

C
ELESTE WAS UP FIRST THING SATURDAY WAITING
for Dawn. She read the morning paper with one eye on the driveway. She threw on a jacket and raked leaves in the front yard. Inside again, she stalked from window to window, chomping on carrot sticks when noon came and went, then stalking some more. By the time a blue pickup deposited Dawn and drove off, she was fit to be tied.

“Hi, Mom! I’m home!”

Celeste entered the kitchen with her arms on her hips. “Where have you been?” she demanded. She didn’t care
what
Emily advised. She couldn’t hide her anger.

“Boston,” Dawn answered, dropping her bags. “I told you I was going.”

“No. You said you were going last weekend, until I nixed the idea.”

“So I waited until Wednesday to go. I stayed with Jill. Didn’t she tell you?”

“Sure. After I was out of my mind with worry. She said you said that I already knew. Dawn, I expected you home
yesterday.
You said the
dorms
closed yesterday.”

Finally, a note of sheepishness. “Yeah, well, I got in a little trouble sneaking back in just now, but I only had a backpack with me in Boston. I had to get the rest of my things.”

“What things?” Celeste eyed the bags on the floor. “You’ll only be here for four more days. What is
in
those?”

“Laundry.”

“Laundry. Swell. You drive me out of my mind with worry, and you want me to do your laundry? Fat chance!”

“I’ll do it,” Dawn said with a defensive tilt of her chin, then she frowned. “You look strange.”

“Thanks. Well, you look good, at least.” Blond hair cascading over T-shirted shoulders, no sign yet of the freshman fifteen on jean-covered hips. “Irresponsibility always did agree with you.”

“Mom, come on.” She kept staring. “Why do you look different?”

Celeste wasn’t about to say. “Maybe because you haven’t seen me in seven weeks.”

“Oh, I’ve seen you—in my mind’s eye every day, saying, ‘Do your homework.’”

“Hah, hah.”

Dawn came closer. “You had your hair colored, didn’t you. You had highlights put in, like I wanted to do, only you wouldn’t let me.”

“You’re eighteen. I’m forty-three.”

“That’s no good reason,” Dawn said, staring still. “Different makeup? No. It’s your nose.” With a look of disbelief, she studied Celeste from the side. “You had it done? You
did
have it done. And you didn’t tell me! How
could
you, Mom?”

“I did it for me. No one else. Just for me. I didn’t see the point in making a big thing of it.”

“But I’m your
daughter.
You had
surgery
, and you didn’t tell me. Thanks a heap. That makes me feel great. I’m at school right down the street, and you kept me in the dark. What did you think I’d do? Run all over Grannick telling people?”

“What does your being at school in town have to do with anything?”

“I could have helped if you were sick.”

“Whoa. You were the one who only agreed to go to school here if you didn’t have to come home until fall break. You were the one who said
you
’d call
me,
not the other way around.”

“But I was thinking that nothing in the world would be new. I can’t believe you had your nose done. Would you have told me, if I hadn’t noticed it?”

“Of course. It’s not a secret, and it’s no big thing, just something I wanted to do.”

“So do I. Only you say I can’t.”

“Tell you what,” Celeste suggested. “You graduate from college, get married and have a baby or two, and then when
they
go off to college, you can have your nose done, my treat.”

“Whoopee,” Dawn said and turned away. She hauled one of her bags to the kitchen table. “By that time I’ll be able to afford it myself.” She unzipped the bag. “It’ll be
so nice
not to have to beg for what I want.” She tossed one shirt here, one shirt there.

“What are you doing?” Celeste cried, imagining the house that had been so neat for seven weeks being suddenly reduced to a sty.

“Separating light and dark. Isn’t that what you always tell me to do?”

“Do you have to do it now, here?”

“Why not? I have nothing better to do. It’s not like you had special plans to take me to lunch or anything. I mean, that’d be too much to ask.”

“I’d have gladly taken you to lunch if you’d been home at lunchtime. Dawn, it’s two-thirty in the afternoon.”

“Well, I’m sorry, if I’d had my own car, I could have left Boston earlier, but I had to wait for someone else, and then I had to stop at the dorm to get my things, so how could I have been here earlier?”

Sweetly, Celeste said, “If you’d come home yesterday, like everyone else, we’d have had time to do things together today.”

“So we have tomorrow, and Monday, and Tuesday.” She threw a pair of jeans on the dark pile and glared at Celeste. “Three whole days. Aren’t you thrilled?”

Celeste sighed. “You may not believe this, but I was looking forward to seeing you.”

Dawn went back to her sorting. “Yeah. Sure.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“Hah.”

“I have. The house has been very quiet.”

“You love it that way. You always did.” The phone rang. Dawn rolled her eyes. “Ahh, God. Now I’m gonna hear it.” She changed her voice. “‘There’s the phone. There’s the phone again. There’s the phone
again.
If that ringing doesn’t stop, I’m going to tear the god-damned thing right out of the wall.’”

“Well, it
was
ringing nonstop last year,” Celeste said and snatched up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hi, Celeste. Is she home yet?”

Celeste held the receiver out. “It’s Marilee. She’s called three times.”

Dawn took the phone with a brilliant smile. “Marilee! How
are
you?”

Celeste moved to the other side of the room, which was the only concession to privacy that she allowed. She hadn’t seen Dawn in seven weeks. Hard to believe. Seven weeks.

Dawn did look good. And yes—surprise, surprise—Celeste had missed her. Seeing her now was nice. Having her home was nice. Knowing that she was going back to school in four days was nice, too.

Celeste had forgotten the raw energy that Dawn brought with her into a room.

She hadn’t forgotten the discord. From the time Dawn was the littlest girl, they had argued about most everything. After seven weeks apart, that hadn’t changed. Celeste wondered if it ever would. Some mothers and daughters were like two peas in a pod, others like fire and water. She and Dawn were of the latter bent.

Dawn hung up the phone, her eyes alive. “Everyone’s hanging out at Marilee’s. Can I go?”

“In other words, can you take the car.”

“Look at it this way. If I do, I’ll be back sooner. You and I can have dinner together before we go to Jill’s party. You are coming, aren’t you?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Dawn’s fingers found the car keys like a magnet to steel. She swept them up and made for the door. “This is great, Mom. Thanks. I won’t be long.”

Celeste listened to the ensuing silence with a surprising sense of regret. She
had
been looking forward to Dawn coming home. So what had she gotten? Five minutes? Ten?

Then her gaze settled on the piles of dirty clothes on the floor, and she sighed. Oh, yes, she had been looking forward to Dawn coming home, but for the life of her, she didn’t know why.

• • •

By nine o’clock Saturday night, cars lined China Pond Road from the cul-de-sac halfway to Walker. What had started as a small gathering was resembling a class reunion—and Emily didn’t mind a bit. Jill had earned this impromptu party, in payment for all the years she had limited herself to the few friends who wouldn’t disturb Doug’s weekend.

And where was Doug? Talking business with the president of the college. He had asked Jill if she would be angry if he took off for several hours. Jill had sent him off with a hug.

The stereo filled the house with sounds Emily didn’t know, but she knew the kids and moved eagerly from one to the next, listening to their tales, plying them with food. The dining room table was covered with the munchies she had made. When they were gone, she called the pizza house, and when the soda supply thinned, John went out for more.

Eating and drinking their share in the kitchen along with the other parents who popped in to say hello, were Kay and John, Celeste, and Brian. Julia had been part of the younger set, passed from one erstwhile babysitter to the next, until she had fallen asleep in Brian’s arms. As often as he said he ought to take her home, he was such a comfortable member of the kitchen circle, that each offer was met with protest by the others.

Once, returning to the kitchen with a bag of empty soda cans, Emily stopped at the door, looking in.

“Someone’s pleased with herself,” Celeste remarked.

“I
am.
” She left the door, set the bag down by the sink, and came to stand between John and Brian. Her fingers found Julia’s baby-silk curls. “I’ve always wanted this kind of open, happy feeling, with lots of friends milling around. I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner.”

She was feeling ebullient, thinking that if Doug was perfectly happy at the college for several hours while she and Jill did what they wanted most to do, then everyone won, when the telephone rang.

It was Linda Balch, Myra’s daughter-in-law. “I’m sorry to bother you,” she said hurriedly, “but we’ve been trying to reach Myra and we can’t get through, not yesterday, and not today. We thought she might have been out earlier, but I can’t imagine she still is. Not so late.”

Neither could Emily. “I’m sure that I saw the lights go on before. There may be something wrong with the phone. Let me run over and check.”

“I apologize. It sounds like you have a party going on.”

“It won’t take but two minutes to check, and now that you’ve mentioned it, I want to know, too.” She took down Laura’s number.

When she told the others where she was going, Brian started to rise. John put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Baby’s sleeping. Sit.”

Leaving the sounds of the party behind, Emily and John went across the street. The lights were on, but when they rang the bell, no one answered. They rang again. They tried knocking. They peered in the front windows, but saw no sign of Myra.

Emily grew worried.

“Let’s take a look in back,” John said. “Maybe she’s having trouble hearing.”

The backyard was all murky shadows and pond-damp smells. They went up the steps and knocked on the door. Emily found it unlocked and pushed it open. “
Myra?
”

She heard an answering sound, quiet and indistinct. “Where are you?” she called.

She stepped into the kitchen, but did an about-face when John said, “Out here.”

“What?”

“She’s out here. Over there.”

Emily hurried back down the steps and across the lawn. Myra was a wraithlike figure, pressed against one end of the wrought iron bench. “What are you doing
here,
Myra? It’s too dark and cold to be out at this hour.” She slipped onto the bench and took Myra’s thin hand. When she felt how icy it was, she stood right up again. “Let’s get her into the house,” she told John.

Myra went meekly. She didn’t protest when Emily sat her in a kitchen chair and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, and she took a cup of hot tea in her hands.

“Maybe we should get her to the hospital,” John suggested under his breath, but Myra heard and shook her head.

“No hospital.”

Emily drew up a chair. “Why were you outside?”

“I wanted to be near the willow.”

“Laura was worried. They tried to reach you yesterday, and again today.” She looked at John, who picked up the phone and listened for a dial tone, nodded, shrugged.

“I heard the phone ringing,” Myra said before Emily could ask. “I just didn’t feel like answering. I didn’t want to talk with anyone.”

“Why not?”

Myra drank her tea, one sip after another. She stared broodingly at the cup.

“Why not, Myra?”

“Because people don’t listen. They don’t hear what I say. I’m just an old lady, babbling on.” She set the cup on the table. “Thank you, Emily. I think I’ll go to bed now.”

“Would you like to sit at my house for a little while?”

But Myra held up a hand in refusal, rose, and set off for the door. Emily was ready to catch her if she swayed, but she didn’t.

“I’ll stop in tomorrow,” she called, then said to John as they let themselves out, “She’s lonely. Her family thinks she’s losing it. I never thought so.”

“Do you now?”

“No. She’s not irrational. Just sad. I guess that’s what aging is about?” She looked to John for an answer, but he didn’t have it, and once they were back at Emily’s, once she had called Laura with a modicum of reassurance, she was swept up in the party again. She was in the living room, surrounded by Jill’s friends, when Brian came looking for her. She returned to the kitchen with him.

John was at the back door, ready to leave. Julia’s sleeping lump had been transferred to Kay, suggesting Brian was going with him.

Emily’s first thought was of Myra, but before she had time to imagine anything horrible, Brian said, “John got a call from the station about an auto theft. They thought we should come.”

“For an auto theft?” Emily asked in surprise.

John said, “The stolen auto is Nestor Berlo’s Lotus.”

“Ahhhh.” Enough said. “Will you be long?”

“Depends on what we find and when we find it.”

Brian added, “Kay says she’ll take Julia back to my place and put her to bed if the party breaks up before.”

But Emily had a better idea. “Julia can stay with me. I’ll make a bed for her on the sofa. Celeste will drop Kay home.”

Brian was comfortable with that arrangement. He liked having an excuse to return to Emily’s. He wanted to see what was going on there. He wanted Doug to know that Emily and he were friends.

And from that? Maybe jealousy. Maybe anger. Maybe an exasperated, “Do what you want. I’m outta here.”

Brian wouldn’t mind if Doug walked out. It wouldn’t change Emily’s life, other than to allow them to be together without the guilt. It seemed like forever and a day since they’d touched.