Summer’s End

“Now what are you thinking?” She looked earnestly up at him.

“Of you.”

“That’s all?” She tried to tease, but he wouldn’t play.

“That’s all.”

“What about?”

“I was thinking how much I wanted our child.”

She felt a sob make a fist in her throat and she turned her head away. “Ben, don’t.”

“I’m sorry.” He pulled her closer, and they drove on.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Chantal glared at Marc from across the room. He closed his suitcase and swung it to the floor.

“It means exactly what it sounds like, Chantal. Come on, don’t play games. I’ve been here for almost three months this summer, now I have to do some work over there.”

“For how long?” She looked livid, and her eyes showed that she had been crying.

“I told you. I don’t know. Now be a good girl, and let’s go.”

“Non, tant pis. I don’t give a damn if you miss your plane. You’re not going to leave me like that. What do you think I am? Stupid? You’re just going back to her. Poor, poor little wife, all heartbroken because she lost her daughter, and now little darling husband is going to console her. Alors non, merde! What about me?” She advanced on him menacingly, and a muscle tightened in his jaw.

“I told you. She’s sick.”

“With what?”

“A number of things. It doesn’t matter with what, Chantal. She just is.”

“So you can’t leave her now. Then when can you leave her?”

“Dammit, we’ve been over and over this for a week. Why do we have to do this when I have to catch a plane?”

“The hell with your plane. I won’t let you leave me.” Her voice had risen dangerously and her eyes were darting around the room. “You can’t go! Non, Marc-Edouard, non!” She was in tears again. He sighed as he sat down.

“Chantal, cherie, please. I told you, it won’t be for much longer. Please, darling. Try to understand. You’ve never been like this before. Why do you have to be so unreasonable now?”

“Because I’ve had it! I’ve had enough! Whatever happens, you stay married to her. Year after year after year after year. Bien merde alors, j’en ai marre. I’m fed up!”

“Must you be fed up right now?” He looked at his watch with despair. “I told you last night, if it looks as though it will be a long time, I’ll have you come over. All right?”

“For how long?”

“Oh, Chantal!” He had the look of irritation he had previously worn only with Pilar. “Voyons. Let’s see how it goes. You can stay in the States for a while, if you come over.”

“How long is a while?” But she was beginning to play now, and he saw it, with an exasperated gleam in his eye.

“As long as my foot. Will that do? Now, let’s go. I’ll call you almost every day. I’ll try to be back in a few weeks. And if not, you’ll come over. Satisfied?”

“Almost.”

“Almost?” He shouted the word, but she tilted her face up for a kiss, and he couldn’t resist.

“Toi, alors!” He kissed her, and they both laughed as they raced back into the bedroom, teasing and touching and hungry again.

“I’ll miss my plane, you know.”

“So what? And afterward let’s have dinner at Maxim’s.”

One would have easily thought that she was the pregnant one, but they most emphatically knew she was not. They had once thought she was pregnant, and it had produced such an appalling scare because of her diabetes that they had decided never to take any chances again. They couldn’t afford to. Her life was at stake. And she didn’t really mind not getting pregnant, she had never been particularly anxious to have a child. Not even Marc’s.

Ben stopped the car halfway down the street. “Here?”

She nodded, feeling as though the world were going to end. As though someone had announced the Apocalypse to them. They knew it was coming, they even knew when… but now what? Where to go? What to do? How would she live every day without him? How could she exist without the moments they shared in Carmel? How could she not wake up in that yellow bedroom, figuring out if it was his turn to make breakfast or hers? She wondered, as she sat there, if it could even be done. She looked at him long and hard and then held him tightly in her arms. She didn’t even care if anyone saw her. Let them. They would never see her hug him again. They would think it had been a mirage. She wondered for a moment if that was what she would think in years to come. Would it all seem like a dream?

Her words were a whisper in his ear. “Take good care. I love you…”

“I love you too.”

They clung to each other then, saying nothing. At last, he snapped open her door. “I don’t want you to go, Deanna. But if you stay any longer, I won’t be able to… to let you go.” She saw that his eyes were too bright, and she felt her own fill with tears. She looked down into her lap, and then quickly up at him. She had to see him, had to know he was still there. Instantly her arms were around him again.

“Ben, I love you.” She held tightly to him, then slowly peeled herself away and looked at him for a long, agonizing moment. “Can I tell you that these months have made my whole lifetime worthwhile?”

“You can.” He smiled at her and kissed the tip of her nose. “And can I tell you to get the hell out of my car?” She looked at him in surprise. Then she laughed.

“You cannot.”

“Well, I figure there’s not going to be an easy way to do this so we might as well have a good laugh.” And she did, and at the same time started to cry again.

“Jesus, I’m a mess.”

“Yes, you are.” He said it with an appreciative nod and a grin that gave way to a slightly sobered look in his eye. “And so am I. But frankly, my dear, I think we’ve got one hell of a lot of style.” And then, with a lopsided grin, he bent to kiss her once more, looked at her very hard, and said, “Go.”

She nodded, touched his face. With her hands clenched into tight fists she slid out of the car, looked at him for an interminable moment, turned, and walked away. As soon as she had turned her back, while she still fumbled in her bag for her keys, she heard him drive away. But she never turned, never looked, never saw, she simply buried him in her heart and walked back inside the house she would share for the rest of her life. With Marc.

25

“‘Good morning, darling. You slept well?” He looked down at her in bed.

“Did you miss your plane?” There was no mention of the past week, of the fact that she had literally run away from Paris.

“I did. Stupidly. I couldn’t get a cab, there was a traffic jam, ten thousand tiny incidents, and I had to wait six hours for the next flight. How do you feel?”

“Decent.”

“No more than that?”

She shrugged in answer. She felt like hell, and she wished she were dead. All she wanted was Ben. But not like this. Not with Marc-Edouard’s baby.

“I want you to see the doctor today,” Marc said. “Shall I have Dominique make an appointment for you, or do you want to do it yourself?”

“Either way.”

Why so docile? He didn’t like what he saw. She looked haggard and pale, nervous and unhappy, and yet