alone for a week. There was no reason why he should not. He would be annoyed that she had flown home from Paris, but that was all. She was free now. For one more week. It was all she could think of.
An hour before they landed she could hardly sit still in her seat. She felt like a very young girl. Even the occasional waves of nausea didn’t dampen her mood. She would just sit very still for a few minutes and close her eyes, and the nausea would pass. She kept her mind on Ben.
She was one of the first off the plane in San Francisco, after it had seemed to drift down through the clouds, racing the sun as everything around it turned pink and gold. It had been a splendid morning, but even that wasn’t enough to take her mind off Ben. He was all she could think of as the plane finally ground to a halt at the gate, and she waited impatiently to be released from her seat. She was already wearing a half-smile, as she shrugged on the black velvet jacket over white slacks and a white silk shirt. Her ivory face and ebony hair added to the portrait in black and white. She looked considerably paler than she had when she had left, and her eyes told a multitude of tales, but they danced and sang too as she inched her way toward the door.
Then she saw him, standing there, alone in the terminal at six A.M., waiting for her beyond the customs barrier, with a jacket slung over his arm and a smile on his face. They rushed toward each other as she came through the door, and she was instantly in his arms.
“Oh, Ben!” There were laughter and tears in her eyes, but he said nothing, he only held her close. It seemed an eternity before he pulled away.
“I worried about you terribly, Deanna. I’m so glad you’re back.”
“So am I.”
He searched her eyes but wasn’t quite sure what he saw. One thing he knew was there-pain, but more than that he couldn’t tell. She only reached out to him and held him tightly.
“Shall we go home?”
She nodded, her eyes filled with tears again. Home. For a week.
23
“Are you feeling O.K.?” She was lying back in his bed, with her eyes closed and a small smile on her face. She had been back home for four hours, and in bed with him the whole time. It was only ten o’clock in the morning, but she hadn’t slept all night on the flight from Paris. He wasn’t quite sure if it was the effect of the long flight that he was seeing, or if the week of Pilar’s death had taken an even greater toll than he’d thought. She had shown him the painting when she’d unpacked. “Deanna? Are you O.K.?” He was watching her when she opened her eyes.
“I’ve never felt better in my life.” Her smile told him she meant it. “When do we leave for Carmel?”
“Tomorrow. The day after. Whenever you want.”
“Could we go today?”
There was a tiny thread of desperation woven in there somewhere, but he had not yet discovered where. It troubled him. “We might. I could see what I can work out with Sally. If she doesn’t mind taking on the gallery single-handed while we’re gone, then it’ll be all right.”
“I hope she can.” It was softly spoken, but earnestly said.
“As bad as that?” he asked. She only nodded, and he understood. He went to make breakfast. “Tomorrow it’s your turn.” He sang it out to her from the kitchen, and she laughed as she walked across the room, naked, and stood in the doorway watching him. It didn’t matter now if they made love with Marc-Edouard’s child in her belly. They had been doing it all summer, and she didn’t care. She wanted to make love to Ben. She would need that to remember. “Deanna?”
She smiled and cocked her head. “Yes, sir?”
“What’s wrong? I mean other than the obvious… Pilar. Is there something else?”
She started to tell him that that was enough, but she couldn’t lie to him.
“Some things came up while I was in France.”
“Anything I should know about?” Like Marc, he was suspicious of her health, she just looked too frail. He eyed her carefully from where he stood.
Slowly, she shook her head. He didn’t need to know about the baby. It would have been different if it had been his.
“What kind of things came up?” His eyes smiled a little as he asked, “Fried or scrambled?”
“Scrambled would be nice.” The thought of fried eggs turned her green, but she could manage scrambled, as long as she didn’t get too strong a whiff of his coffee. “No coffee.”
“How come?” He looked shocked.
“I’ve given it up for Lent.”
“I think you’re six or seven months early.”
“Maybe so.”
“So? What’s up?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She came into the kitchen and put her arms around him, leaning into his back. “I don’t know… I don’t know. I just wish my life were a little bit simpler.”
“And?” He turned in her grasp and faced her as they both stood naked in front of his kitchen stove.
“I love you, that’s all.” Dammit, why did it have to be now? Why did she have to tell him so soon? Her eyes filled with tears, but she forced herself to look at him. She owed him that. “And… things aren’t going to work out as easily as I thought.”
“Did you really think it would be easy?” His eyes never left hers.
She shook her head. “No. But easier than it is.”
“And how is it?”
“I can’t leave him, Ben.” There. She had said it. Oh, God, she had told him. She looked at him for an endless time, tears filling her eyes.
“Why not?”
“I just can’t. Not now.”
“Do you love him, Deanna?”
Once again, she shook her head. “I thought I did. I was sure of it. And I know I did once. I suppose I still love him in a way. He has given me something for eighteen years, in his own way. But it’s- it’s been over for years. I just didn’t understand that until this summer. I understand it even better now, after this week.” She paused for a breath, then went on. “There were even times, with you, when I wasn’t sure if I should leave him or not. I didn’t know. It seemed as though I had no right. And I also thought that maybe I still loved him.”
“And you don’t?”
“No.” It was a small choking sob. Finally she looked away and wiped her face with her hands. “I only realized it a few days ago. Something happened… and I knew.”
“Then why are you staying with him? Because of Pilar?” He was strangely calm as he spoke to her, almost like a father speaking to a child.
“That and other reasons. It doesn’t matter why. I just am.” She looked at him in agony again. “Do you want me to go?” But he only stared at her, then silently left the room. She heard him in the living room for a moment, and then heard him slam the bedroom door as hard as he could. She stood in the kitchen for a time, wondering, stunned. She knew she had to leave now. There would be no Carmel. But all her clothes were locked up with him, in his room. She had no choice except to stay until he came out. At last he did, an hour later. He stood in the doorway, looking red-eyed and distraught. For a moment she wasn’t quite sure if he was insanely angry or simply upset.
“What exactly were you telling me, Deanna? That it’s over?”
“I… no… I… oh, God!” For a moment she thought again that she might faint, but she couldn’t, not now. She took two deep breaths and sat down on the edge of the couch, her long, slim, bare legs hanging gracefully to the floor. “I have a week.”
