An Accidental Life (9 page)

From behind the camera, Art gave her a thumbs-up. “Good smile,” he said. Leaning around the camera, he twisted the lens. “You’re the first one we’ve interviewed for this article who’s smiled when explaining that.”

“Well those volumes represent six years of my life.”
Doug will love this,
she thought. An article in
Spin-it
was such good publicity for the firm. And for her, too.

“That’s a good quote, about the books.” Tom settled back and crossed his legs. “We’ll use it. That’s what readers what to know, how you like your work. How you feel about things. What’s it like to be you, and what it took to get here.” He looked at Art and Art nodded. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

The first question was no surprise; it was the one everyone asked first. “When did you decide you wanted to be a lawyer, and why?”

She gave him her best smile, knowing that she’d never tell the whole story. In fact, she’d called Mama on Sunday to give her the news that she’d made partner, thinking maybe this once, just this one time there’d be a response, something more than, “Oh, that’s nice,” before launching into a stream of regret over the loss of her baby twenty years ago, and how Elise would have chosen another path . . . or something worse.

Unspoken were the words—Elise was gone, and that was Rebecca’s fault. Now, she roused herself, looking at Tom and holding onto the smile.

“Mostly,” she said, folding her arms and settling back, “it was just good luck.” That wasn’t true either, of course. She’d worked nonstop for thirteen years to get here, four years undergraduate, three in law school, six as an associate. But her tone, practiced and breezy carried her now. They talked for an hour about how it was to be a young woman partner in a major law firm when, at times, she was the only woman in the room.

“What do you like best about practicing corporate law?”

She pursed her lips and thought about the question. After a few seconds passed, she said, “I’ve worked on so many different areas of business over the years and my practice is constantly challenging. One day you could be financing a new resort hotel, the next you’re working with investors in gold mining, or international shipping.” She spread her hands. “The variety is fascinating.”

“You like the challenges.”

They talked about the little problems women still had to face—the private clubs where clients dined at lunch and women were not yet allowed. Problems that men in the profession had probably never given any thought, but that she and Amalise had worked through over the years. And they talked about the psychological rewards, the feelings that you’ve accomplished something, that your work has helped clients reach their goals at the end of a transaction.

Tom said that he could see in her manner, in her tone of voice and the expressions on her face when she talked about her work, how much she loved what she was doing.

And he was right, she replied.

Rose Marie stuck her head through the door and informed them that the conference room was reserved only until noon.

Rebecca glanced at her watch and then at Rose Marie. “Thanks,” she said. It was eleven thirty. “We’ll take the elevator. It’s on the eighteenth floor,” she said to Tom.

Tom glanced at Art. “Are you ready to go on up?”

Art was packing up the umbrellas. “Yep. You take the tripod and camera. I’ll carry these, and come back for the rest.”

Tom leaned toward the tape recorder, and then suddenly straightened up again, turning back to her. “One more thing. Before we wrap this up I have a question: Thinking back to the time when women first got the vote, and some struck out on their own. Back in the 1920s. How would you compare the issues that generation of women faced in the business world, in comparison to your own?”

“Today?” Rebecca looked around at her lovely new office, and then back at Tom. “It’s kind of like the moonshot, you know. Once NASA got things going in the sixties, we landed on the moon within the decade. That’s where we are today, we women. We’re on the moon. Now we’ll shoot for the stars if we want to. Or some of us will choose to work at home. But either way, because our grandmothers and mothers got things started, now we have choices.”

“Any tips for making it in a man’s world?”

She smiled. “Keep wearing lipstick. It’s our world, too.”

Tom laughed and wrote that down. Then he switched off the recorder. Art picked up the closed umbrellas and they followed him out.

“Are you free to have lunch with us after this?” Tom said as they walked toward the elevator. “Our flight’s at four.”

“Sure. I’m free until one thirty. My secretary can book us a table at Brennan’s, or we can take our chances with the line at Galatoire’s.” She gave him a sideways look. “I’ll treat. I have my own credit card now.”

10

The next morning Rebecca and Peter
each packed for the trip and Peter put the suitcases in his car. She would spend the morning in her office and he’d wrap things up in his and pick her up downtown at two o’clock. Their flight left at four in the afternoon, giving them plenty of time to check in and relax.

At the office she was happy to find that Sydney was already working with the transaction team to finalize the bond documents for the closing. Changes to the Offering Memorandum had been agreed on by all parties. After a quick call with the chief financial officer of her client, the issuer of the bonds, Rebecca strolled down the hallway to Amalise’s new office.

She stood at the door before entering, watching Amalise. She was fully absorbed in her work, reading and making notes in the margin. She thought about the differences between the two of them. While she, Rebecca, put all her energy into a transaction until it was completed, Amalise seemed able to divide hers up between home and work. That talent had helped Amalise make it through the darkness of an earlier marriage that had left her a widow. And, she guessed, maybe that’s what made her arrangement with Jude such a success.

With a quick series of raps on the door, she walked into the office.

Amalise looked up and Rebecca could almost see her clearing her mind, shifting her attention completely from one thing to the other as she put the pencil down on the desk and smiled. “Hey. Come on in.” She straightened and leaned back in the chair.

“I came to take a look around.” Rebecca meandered about. Against the far wall near the windows, Amalise had arranged a conference table instead of the sofa and chairs that Rebecca had chosen. But there was the same L-shaped bookcase and the same leather-bound deal books, and the same Lucite mementos.

Here, however, the wall behind the conference table was covered with pictures of Luke and Jude, and Amalise’s mother and father—Maraine and Judge Catoir—at their home in Marianus. And there was a picture of Amalise and Rebecca standing together on the steps of Tulane Law School in their gowns on graduation day six years ago.

“Nice.” Rebecca walked over to the conference table and picked up a small glass sculpture in the center of the table, turning it in her hands, feeling the smooth surface and sharp edges.

“It is nice. Fun to have so much space, isn’t it? And, you were right about not worrying about getting work—Preston’s just asked me to head up a transaction for one of his clients.” Amalise massaged the back of her neck as she looked at Rebecca. “As usual, we’ve got a short deadline. But at least I’ve got plenty to do now.”

Rebecca put the sculpture back down on the table and turned to Amalise. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Sure. I’ve got a meeting later on this afternoon, but I’ve got time right now. What’s on your mind?”

Rebecca crossed the room, closed the door, and took a seat in a chair before Amalise’s desk. Church bells from Jesuit’s down the street tolled eleven and the bells stirred something in her now. A melancholy feeling; the exuberance she’d felt after the
Spin-it
interview, and the excitement of the trip to Italy vanished as everything now came swooping back, bringing an acute sense of the dilemma she was facing. The thought of having a child terrified her, she suddenly realized. And those bells just made things worse, taunting her with comfort in a faith that she didn’t have, the comfort of knowing that an absolute truth existed, like Amalise believed.

Right now, she wanted a guide. She needed something like a menu with the choices labeled and stars placed near the favored dishes. She looked down, scratching at the fabric covering the armrest in an absent manner. “I’ve got a free weekend coming up, so Peter and I are taking off this afternoon. We’re going to Italy for a few days.”

“Oh, I love the way you two just take off like that. You’re like Scott and Zelda. It must be fun.” Amalise leaned back with a dreamy look in her eyes. “Sometimes I wish Jude and I could do things like that, just for a day or two.”

Rebecca was silent.

Amalise sat up straight and crossed her arms. “My idea of a weekend off these days is Audubon Park with Luke.” Then she added quickly, “Not that I really mind.”

“I imagine Luke could make a trip to the park unique,” Rebecca said. “Remember when I took him to see the meteorite a few years ago?” Local lore was that the large stone in the middle of a fairway in Audubon Park was a meteorite which had fallen from space long ago. Luke was fascinated with science, especially anything from outer space.

Amalise laughed. “He talks about that all the time. Now he’s begging to go to the NASA museum in Houston. He wants to see the moon rocks.” She rested her elbow on the chair armrest and her chin on her fist.

Luke was a curious child, blooming under Jude and Amalise’s constant love. He was inquisitive and dug into things until he found answers and understood them. Much like Amalise, she thought. Despite the depression, Rebecca smiled at the thought of Luke. He loved to read, and most of what he read was science and biology and physics, not the usual children’s stories.

Amalise brought her back. “But what did you want to talk about? Is something wrong?”

Glancing down at her skirt, Rebecca brushed a piece of lint from the fabric. Yes, she had a problem.

Amalise waited, clasping her hands before her on the desk. Outside the office typewriters clacked, phones rang, footsteps passed.

It took a moment to begin, but once Rebecca began the words spilled out. Amalise listened in silence. Rebecca was vaguely conscious that her voice had turned monotone, as if none of this was real, as if she was telling someone else’s story. She told Amalise of the visit to Dr. Matlock, and the news that she was pregnant.

Looking up, she caught the beginning of Amalise’s smile and held up both hands. With a start, Amalise’s smile died.

Rebecca went on. She told Amalise about the agreement she’d wrung from Peter before they’d married—the promise, so far as she was concerned, that had been at the core of their marriage vows—a pledge of the heart each to the other that there would be no children in their marriage. Never. No children would ever come between them or distract from their careers.

No child would ever be harmed by her again. Like Elise. But that she kept to herself.

“It was our choice,” she said, conscious that her voice was growing thick with gathering tears. She swallowed.

“I understand. Like I said the other day, you had every right to make that choice, you and Peter.” Amalise gave her a knowing look. “Have you told him yet?”

“Not yet.”

Amalise leaned forward, arms on the desk. “Hmm. Well, how are you feeling, physically, I mean?”

Rebecca folded her arms and looked off through the window. “I’m in good health, the doctor says. There’s been a little nausea.” A second passed. “And I’m getting fat.”

“You’re not.” Amalise smiled and gave her a sideways look. “At least, not yet. But I’ll tell you if it happens.”

Rebecca swung her eyes back to her friend, and Amalise added, “And besides, your skin is positively glowing. I don’t know how I missed this.”

“It’s just hormones, Amalise.”

“So, when will you tell Peter?”

She squeezed her eyes shut for an instant. “I guess I’ll have to do that on this trip. But, Amalise, he’s not like Jude. Peter works into the night most evenings. His life is structured; every minute on his calendar is filled.” She hesitated, watching Amalise. “I don’t even know if he’ll be happy about this surprise. This will change our lives completely.”

Vehemently, Amalise shook her head. “I think you’re wrong. You’re underestimating Peter, Rebecca. He’s a good man. He’s—”

“Men have a right to their choices, too, you know.” She drew a long, deep breath. “I know my husband. The moment Peter understands that I’m pregnant, he’ll see me as a different woman. Over time our relationship will change.”

“The word is ‘we.’”

“What?”

“You’re both parents of this child. The operative word is ‘we.’”

“I’ll be the one with all the responsibility.”

Amalise brushed her hand over her eyes. “Oh Rebecca.” She leaned forward, fixing her eyes on Rebecca’s across the desk. “Look. You can do this. There’s a life growing in you, Rebecca. A baby, a gift from God. A special blessing.”

Rebecca ducked her head. “I don’t have your kind of faith, you know. I wish I did. I wish that I had a star to follow, like you.”

“Then look for it! Find it.”

“What?” She looked up.

“If anything should convince you there’s more than we can ever hope to understand, it’s that little spark of new life inside of you.” She held Rebecca’s eyes. “Medically, scientifically, a baby is a miracle. You’re a lawyer. Check out the facts.”

Rebecca leaned her head back against the chair, closing her eyes and remembering the pictures in that pamphlet that Dr. Matlock had given her, imagining the baby inside of her. Suddenly, with the force of lightning new images arose, submerging the beauty of the infant in a raging storm of emotions. She could see the pink bicycle mangled under the wheel of the car. She could hear someone screaming in the distance, she could hear the car horn blaring. And she could see that one little shoe near the curb.

Her hands flew up to cover her ears; and the images disappeared.

Embarrassed, she looked up. From across the desk, Amalise stared.
Amalise would never understand,
she thought as she brushed back her hair, lifted it from her neck, and let it fall around her shoulders. No one could ever understand the desperate panic filling her, and the need for something solid to hold onto. Rebecca Downer Jacobs, a woman who’d always prided herself on overcoming emotions, found herself drowning in them now. Suddenly she realized that she had to leave.