Summer’s End

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.”

Seven months… seven months. She pulled her mind away from the thought and smiled at his attempt at a joke.

“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.” And not even later, not once I’ve had his child. Call me in another eighteen years…

“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.” Because I don’t want his baby, Ben, I want yours!

“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.”

“And then what?”

“I disappear.”

“Into that lonely life again? Into a life by yourself? In that mausoleum you lived in, and without even Pilar now? How can you do that to yourself?” He looked tormented.

“Maybe it’s just what I have to do, Ben.”

“I don’t understand.” He was about to walk back into his bedroom, but he stopped, turning to face her. “Deanna, I told you… I said it could just be for the summer and… I’d understand. That was what I said. I have no right to change that now. Do I?”

“You have every right to be furious, or very, very hurt.”

She saw tears well up in his eyes and felt them well up in her own, but he never wavered as he watched her.

“I’m both. But that’s because I love you very much.”

She nodded, but she could no longer speak. She only walked back into the circle of his arms. It seemed hours before either of them let go.

“Shall we go to Carmel today?” He was lying on his stomach, looking into her face. She had just awakened from a three-hour nap, and it was almost five. He had never gone to the gallery-he had explained that he’d be gone all week and Sally would have to hold her own. “What do you really want to do?”

“Be with you.” She said it solemnly but with a small happy smile in her eyes.

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.”

“Then let’s go to Tahiti.”

“I’d rather go to Carmel.”

“Seriously?” He ran a finger down her thigh. She smiled.

“Seriously.”

“O.K., then let’s go. We can have dinner down there.”

“Sure. It’s two o’clock in the morning, Paris time. By the time we have dinner, I’ll be ready for breakfast.”

“Jesus. I wasn’t thinking about that. Do you feel half dead?” She was looking very tired but she seemed to have more color now.

“No, I feel fine, and happy, and I love you.”

“Not half as much as I love you.” He took her face in his hands and pulled her closer. He wanted to kiss her, hold her, and touch her, and have all of her that he could for the few days they had left. Then he thought of something. “What about your work?”

“What about it?”

“Will we still work together at the gallery? Will we still represent you-will I?” He wanted her to be incensed, to answer “of course,” but for a long moment she said nothing. Then he knew.

“I don’t know. We’ll have to see.” But how could they? How could she go to see him at the gallery in a few months, when she would be swollen with Marc-Edouard’s child?

“It’s all right,” he said. “Never mind.”

But the look of pain in his eyes now was too much for her to bear. She burst into tears. She seemed to be doing that a lot.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“You’re going to think I’m like her-the fake, the girl you were married to.”

He knelt on the floor at her side. “You’re not a fake, Deanna. Nothing about you has ever been fake. We just undertook something difficult and now we have to live up to the deal. It’s not easy, but it’s honest. It’s always been honest. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. I want you to remember that always. If you ever want to come back, I will always be here for you. Always. Even when I’m ninety-three years old.” He tried to make her smile, but he failed. “Shall we make another deal now?”

“What?” She was pouting as she looked up at him. She hated Marc-Edouard, and hated herself more. She should have an abortion. Anything so she could be with Ben. Or maybe he would accept Marc’s child, if she told him the truth from the start. But she knew that she could never tell him. He would never understand.

“Come on, I want us to make another deal. I want us both to promise that we won’t talk about it being ‘just one more week.’ Let’s just live each day, love each day, enjoy every moment, and face that time when it comes. If we talk about only that, we’ll spoil the time that we have. Is it a deal?” He took her face in his hands and kissed her gently on the mouth as her hair fell softly down around her face from the loose knot she had wound it into on the top of her head. “Deal?”

“Deal.”

“O.K.” He nodded solemnly, kissed her again, and left the room.

An hour later they left for Carmel, but it was difficult not to feel the pall. Things weren’t the same as they had been before. It was almost over, and whether they said it or not, they both knew. It was much too near. The summer was coming to a bittersweet end.