Summer’s End

2

“You have enough money in the bank for the entire time I’ll be gone. But if you need more, call Dominique at the office, and she’ll transfer it. I told Sullivan I want him to look in on you at least twice a week. And…”

Deanna looked at her husband in surprise. “You told Jim to look in on me? Why?” Jim Sullivan was Marc- Edouard’s American partner, and one of the few Americans he truly liked.

“Because I want to make sure that you’re well, happy, and have everything you need.”

“Thank you, but it seems silly to bother Jim.”

“He’ll enjoy it. Show him your latest paintings, have him for dinner. I trust him.” He looked at his wife with a smile. And she smiled back.

“You can trust me too.” In the eighteen years of her marriage, she had never cheated on Marc. She wasn’t going to start now.

“I do trust you. I’ll call as often as I can. You know where I’ll be. If anything comes up, just call. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible, if I’m not in.” She nodded quietly at his words, and then let out a small sigh. He turned to look at her in the silence of the Jaguar. For a moment there was worry in his eyes. “You’ll be all right, Deanna, won’t you?”

Her eyes found his. She nodded. “Yes. I’ll be fine. But I’ll miss you terribly.”

He was already looking back at the road. “The time will go quickly. If you change your mind, you can always join Mother and Pilar in Cap d’Antibes.” He smiled at his wife again. “Not that you will.”

“No, I won’t.” She smiled back.

“Tetue, va. Stubborn one. Perhaps that’s why I love you.”

“Is that why? I’ve often wondered.” There was a teasing sparkle in her eyes now as she studied the handsome profile next to her in the car. “You’ll take care of yourself, won’t you? Don’t work too terribly hard.” But it was a useless admonition, and they both knew it.

“I won’t.” He smiled at her tenderly.

“You will.”

“I will.”

“And you’ll enjoy every minute of it.” They both knew that was true too. “I hope the Salco case comes out in your favor.”

“It will. You can be quite sure of that.”

“Marc-Edouard Duras, you are unbearably arrogant. Has anyone told you that yet today?”

“Only the woman I love.” He reached for her hand as he took the turnoff for the airport, and she touched his fingers gently with her own. It made her think of the night before and the rare meshing of their bodies that she cherished so much. Ma Diane.… “I love you, darling.” She pulled his hand to her lips and gently kissed the tips of his fingers. “I wish we had more time.”

“So do I. We will one of these days.”

Yes… but when? She carefully put his hand back on the seat and left her fingers intertwined with his.

“When you come back, do you suppose we could go somewhere together, for a holiday?” She watched him, her eyes wide, childlike. She still wanted him, wanted to be with him, to be his. After all these years she still cared. Sometimes it still surprised her how much she did.

“Where would you like to go?”

“Anywhere. Just so we’re together.” And alone.

He looked at her for a long moment as they pulled up outside the terminal, and for an instant Deanna thought she saw regret in his eyes. “We’ll do that. As soon as I get back.” Then he seemed to catch his breath. “Deanna, I…”

She waited, but he said no more; he only put his arms around her and held her close. She felt her own arms go around him and hold him close. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She needed him more than he knew. There were tears sliding slowly down her face. He felt her trembling in his arms and pulled away to look at her with surprise.

“Tu pleurs?” You’re crying?

“Un peu.” A little. He smiled, it had been so long since she had answered him in French. “I wish you didn’t have to go.” If only he’d stay, if they had some time without Pilar…

“So do I.” But they both knew that was a lie. He pulled the keys out of the ignition and opened the door, signaling for a porter.

Deanna walked sedately beside him, lost in her own thoughts, until they reached the first-class lounge where he generally hid while waiting for a plane. She settled into a chair next to his and smiled at him. But he was already different, already gone, the moment in the car all but forgotten. He checked the papers in his briefcase and looked at his watch. He had ten minutes left, and he suddenly seemed impatient to leave.

“Alors, is there anything we forgot to discuss in the car? Any message for Pilar?”

“Just give her my love. Will you stop there before you go to Athens?”

“No, I’ll phone her tonight.”

“And me too?” She watched the seconds tick by on the enormous clock on the wall.

“And you too. You’re not going out?”

“No, I have some work I want to finish in the studio.”

“You should do something amusing, so you don’t feel alone.”

I won’t, I’m used to it. Again, she didn’t say the words. “I’ll be fine.” She crossed one leg over the other, looking down at her lap. She had worn a new lavender silk dress and the purple jade earrings encircled by diamonds that he had brought her from Hong Kong, but he hadn’t noticed. His mind was on other things.

“Deanna?”

“Hm?” She looked up to find him standing next to her, his briefcase in his hand and the familiar smile of victory in his eyes. He was off to the wars now, gone again, free. “Is it time to go?” Already? So soon? He nodded, and she stood up, dwarfed by his considerable size, but the perfect companion beside him. They were a strikingly good-looking couple. They always had been. Even Madame Duras, his cold-eyed mother, had acknowledged it -once.

“You needn’t walk me to the gate.” He already seemed distracted.

“No, but I’d like to. Is that all right?”

“Of course.” He held the door for her, and they stepped back into the bustle of the terminal, instantly lost among an army of travelers burdened with suitcases, gifts, and guitars. They arrived too soon at the gate, and he turned to look down at her with a smile. “I’ll call you tonight.”

“I love you.”

He didn’t answer but bent to kiss the top of her head, then strode into the passageway to the plane, without a backward look or a wave. She watched until he disappeared, then slowly turned and walked away. I love you. Her own words echoed in her head. But he hadn’t answered. He was already gone.

She slid into the car waiting at the curb, and with a sigh turned the key and drove home.

She went quickly upstairs to change her clothes, and was buried deep in her own thoughts in the studio all afternoon. She sketched absently, and had just gone out on the terrace at last for some air, when Margaret knocked softly on the studio door. Deanna turned in surprise, as the housekeeper hesitantly entered the room.

“Mrs. Duras… I-I’m sorry…” She knew how Deanna hated to be disturbed there, but now and then she had no choice. Deanna had disconnected the studio phone.

“Is something wrong?” Deanna looked distracted, standing there with her hair loose over her shoulders and hands tucked into the pockets of her jeans.

“No. Mr. Sullivan is downstairs to see you.”

“Jim?” And then she remembered Marc-Edouard’s promise that Jim would look in on her. He certainly hadn’t