A Tangled Web (76 page)

She saw her children waver through her tears.
It ought to be enough to tell your children that you love them. Love ought to be enough to smooth over anything.

But if it isn't
 . . .

Abruptly she turned and walked back the way she had come, her head bowed, tears running down her face. Garth, watching from a few feet away, took her arm, gripping it so that she had no choice but to walk with him toward the hotel. “Where is she?”

Still crying, Stephanie barely heard him. “What?”

“Sabrina. Where is she?”

She looked at him wildly. “What are you talking about?”

“You know damn well what I'm talking about. For God's sake, Stephanie, you can't believe you two could fool me again.” He stopped and stared into her frantic eyes. Stephanie. The real Stephanie. But Sabrina had been his Stephanie for so long, the only woman he . . .

I can't think about that now.

He walked on, almost dragging Stephanie with him. “Whatever you've been up to, however the two of you managed to make everyone think you've been dead all this time, I won't be part of your games anymore.”

“Wait, you're wrong.” Relief flooded her. He knew. She didn't have to tell him. “Sabrina didn't—”

“Wrong? You didn't let all of us think you were dead? You haven't been living another life for the past year? And Sabrina wasn't having a good time fooling me again—another deception, a very successful one? She's been calling me every night for the past two weeks, lying about what she was doing and whom she was with.” His voice shook with fury. “Lying . . . my God, you're both experts at that. And now you want something else, so you've come back. A year ago you wanted out and you got out, you did whatever the hell you wanted to do, and now you want something else. Well, what is it? If you think for one
minute you're going to take those children away from me—”

“You're hurting my arm!”

“Hurt isn't something you have much right to talk about.” He stopped beside the iron fence that ran along the Seine, and held her in front of him, once again staring into her face. The image of Sabrina. Uncanny, he thought; even now she could be Sabrina. But there was something that made her Stephanie, a woman he did not love, a woman he could despise for what she had done.

She tried to pry his fingers loose. “I never meant to hurt you. I did want to get away, to have another life . . . I wasn't happy—you knew that!—but all I wanted was a few days; I thought I'd be back in a week and we could try to start again. I never wanted to hurt you!”

“You chose a peculiar way to demonstrate it.” He eased his grip on her arm. “But nobody forced it on you; you chose it and went through with it and now it's done. And if you've come back to take Penny and Cliff, you can forget it. They're staying with me. I don't know what you've done for the past thirteen months or whom you've done it with, but you've managed to go all that time without a single phone call or letter to your children, and as far as I'm concerned—as far as any judge would be concerned—that disqualifies you from having anything to do with them. Are you listening to me? Damn it, look at me! They're the most important thing in the world to me right now, and I'm going to make sure they don't know what's been going on: you're not going to tell them and neither is Sabrina. My God, you two bitches, toying with a couple of children who never did anything to you but love you and depend on you—”

“Garth, stop, stop . . . Listen to me! Sabrina didn't know I was alive. She didn't toy with Penny and Cliff, or with you. She loves you. It was terrible for her to lie to you every night, but she did it for me, because I begged her to. I couldn't face you and the children; I didn't know what to do, so I asked her for a little time . . . and then we
had to find out who was after us . . . Oh, God, it's so complicated; I can't explain it all.”

“She didn't know you were alive?”

“No. My God, Garth, she thought she'd buried me!”

Before he could stop it, joy flooded him.
She didn't know.
He had barely heard the rest—someone was after them?—all he knew was that Sabrina had not lied, had not pretended to be his wife, his love . . .

But then, looking past Stephanie at the sun-speckled crowds beneath tall horse chestnut trees, he thought, Why should I believe that? It's too easy. They lie too well, both of them. “She sat beside a coffin for a whole afternoon and said goodbye to her sister.”

“I know; we've talked about that and we think we know how it must have happened. It's part of everything else, the whole year that I was in London and then France . . . Garth?” She looked into his eyes, trying to read them. She thought there was less anger; he seemed to be listening, weighing what she said, and she remembered how he always took time to repeat to himself what he heard so that he could incorporate it into what he knew, and evaluate it. The scientist, Stephanie thought, and knew she had never tried to understand that part of him. “I could tell you the whole story, but it would take so long . . . and Sabrina ought to help me tell it.”

“Where is she?”

“I don't know. She was in our bedroom at the hotel.”

“While the rest of us were there?”

“Yes.”

“There was a closed door; was that it? Could she hear us through it?”

“I'm pretty sure . . . yes, she could. I forgot she was there. The children, the shock of seeing you . . . I didn't think. But she can tell you . . . we can tell you everything, if you'll just listen. Garth, believe me. She didn't know. She thought I was dead and she was in love with you. She is in love with you.”

He studied her face. “Can you think of any reason why I should believe you?”

“You're a scientist; you ought to be able to recognize the truth.”

He gave a short laugh. “Scientists are often fools.”

“But you aren't. Sabrina said once that you weren't a fool, but we fooled you; she was trying to get me to come back because she was worried about what we'd done. I think she loved you then, though of course she wouldn't tell me. But I wanted more time; I wanted one last cruise”—a shiver swept over her—“and she gave it to me.” Her voice dropped, and Garth leaned closer to hear her. “She's always done that. All our lives she's done what she could to make me happy. And I've relied on her to do it. I've never been as strong as she is; I've never had the same kind of belief in myself; I've never been as free in my imagination or my friendships or my work, or any other way. That was why I envied her. So I . . . used her. And she let me, because she loves me.”

They stood on a cobblestone walk beneath a wide-spreading chestnut tree. On the far side of the Seine the massive gray stones of the Louvre seemed almost black, silhouetted against the cloudless sky. “Let's go,” Garth said abruptly, and turned her with him and they walked quickly the remaining short blocks to the hotel. They took the elevator in silence to the top floor and in silence they stood at the door of the suite.

Stephanie raised a tentative hand to knock, but Garth reached around her and turned the knob and they walked in.

Sabrina was in an armchair on the terrace, her hands folded in her lap. She had moved from the bedroom, and that was all she had done. She looked up at the sound of the door; her eyes met Garth's and what should have been a joyous reunion after two weeks apart was instead a long look of doubt and anger, smoldering resentment, apology, and an attraction between them so powerful that even Stephanie felt it.

Sabrina stood up. “Where are Penny and Cliff?”

“At the café with Alexandra,” Stephanie said, “and a magician to entertain them.” She rushed to Sabrina, as if she had to move quickly to keep from changing her mind, and put her arms around her. “Too much is happening. It must have been awful for you, listening to us and then hearing us leave. I'm sorry we did that, but I couldn't stay here alone with—I mean, I was afraid. Everything happened too fast for me to think straight.”

Sabrina's eyes again went to Garth.

“He knew right away,” Stephanie said. “I thought he didn't, but he knew the minute he saw me. And then we all dragged him off to the café.”

“You knew,” Sabrina said to Garth. “You knew.” And for the first time a small smile lit her face. “And did Stephanie tell you what happened to her?”

“No.” Garth was looking from one to the other with the sense of unreality he had had since arriving that morning. Seen together, except for the clothes they wore, the sisters could have been one woman standing before a mirror, and as he looked at them his anger revived. It may have been true that Sabrina believed her sister to be dead, but, for all the love she professed for him, she kept from him the shattering revelation of Stephanie's survival. And now, seeing them together, he wondered if anyone ever could become as important to them as they were to each other. He did not know what to say to them, how to talk to them together. He told himself he did not want to talk to them; he would take his children home and get the hell out of both of their lives.

But Sabrina had taken a step forward, her hands out. “I'm sorry. I promised once never to lie to you again. I broke my promise and I can't tell you how sorry—”

“You broke more than that.” Fighting against the ache to hold her, to kiss her, to awaken the smile that illuminated her face, he ignored her hands. He watched them drop to her sides and then he let his anger overflow. “I thought we had an understanding in our family that we
wouldn't hurt each other, that our home was a place of safety, a refuge in a world that sometimes seemed cold and complicated and threatening. We got past your first lies—I thought we'd gotten past them—but now we're back where we started. There were dozens of chances for you to tell me what you were doing these past two weeks, but you'd decided—the two of you had decided—again!—how much truth the rest of us were entitled to.”

Stephanie had crept into a corner of the sitting room, shrinking from the anger in Garth's voice as if it were aimed at her. She stood there tentatively, wanting to escape into the bedroom but afraid to leave. Garth saw her behind him in the shadows, and he saw Sabrina in front of him on the sunlit terrace, and his rage built as he thought of them flanking him as they had flanked a year of his life without his knowing it. Impostors shaping his life. “Well, it's over and I'm leaving and I'm taking Penny and Cliff with me. Neither of you will have them. It's monstrous to think that a family could be incidental to the whims of two bored women, that children could be passed back and forth like playthings, enjoyed for a while then tossed aside until at some point they're remembered and maybe longed for. I won't—”

“I didn't toss them aside!” Stephanie cried. “I knew Sabrina would take care of them; I knew she'd keep them healthy and happy until I came back, and she did, and now—”

“
Now?
You think you're coming back now?”

“Not to you. I couldn't do that. You don't want me and I don't want to live with you, Garth, not anymore. But I want my children. They're mine, Garth, I'm their mother! Doesn't that mean anything to you?”

“No. Should it? It hasn't meant anything to you.”

“That's not true; it has! I've wanted them every minute since I got my memory back—” Garth's head swung sharply to her. “That's what happened! You never asked, you never cared, but that's what happened to me, and we haven't had a chance to tell you about it, but if you'd let
us, you'd understand; you'd change your mind. Sabrina”—she went to the terrace where Sabrina stood—“you've got to help me. I don't want to tell it alone; I want us both to do it.”

“ ‘The whims of two bored women,' ” Sabrina said icily, looking at Garth. “You know better than that. You're working yourself up to a rage—you tend to do that—and if you don't stop, we won't be able to talk at all.”

“God damn it, don't tell me what I ‘tend' to do. You knew for two weeks that Stephanie was alive, that you were making our whole life a sham—”

“
Our whole life?
”

“—and that nothing would ever be the same. You knew it and kept it to yourself. Because you loved your sister. That's a hell of an excuse. You say you love us, too. Is that the dividing line of your loyalties? if it's us and a stranger, you'll choose us; if it's us and your sister, you choose her.”

“That's not fair.”

“Why not? You did choose her.”

“Briefly. And only once. I knew we'd see you soon—”

“More than once. There was the big one. You chose her when you faked being her so we wouldn't know she'd left.”

“I didn't love you then. I haven't chosen anyone but you and the children since then. I did lie on the telephone, but I didn't see how I could do anything else, and it was only for a few days. I thought, on Sunday, tomorrow, I'd meet your plane and we'd be able to talk and . . . work things out . . .”

“You thought you'd have time to manipulate me again.”

“Garth, please stop. I know you're hurt and angry, and you have good reason to be, but I never wanted to manipulate you and you know it. All I wanted was to live with you and make a life with our children that was good and loving and rewarding. I never wanted to fool you
beyond that first week; I fell in love with you. And our house really was a refuge for me, a haven, and I did my damnedest to make it one for you and Penny and Cliff, too. As far as I know, I never hurt you, or them; I tried to make the three of you feel loved and cared for and protected. You know all this, you've known it for months, and I'd appreciate it if you'd try to remember what we've had together instead of sliding back to what you were feeling last December and reliving that whole awful time as if nothing had changed.”