Belonging (13 page)

“—after the accident—” Jake prompted softly.

She took a sip of Evian and drew in a shuddering breath. “After the accident, immediately after the crash, Carter didn’t even ask if I was okay. All he cared about was getting the story straight so Blair would think we’d been out on business.” She couldn’t stop the tears. Joanna reached into her purse for a handkerchief and hid her face in it as the tale and her tears poured out. “I had to take a taxi home. Alone.”

“Poor kid.”

“I thought”—her words rushed out on the torrent of her shame and sorrow and disappointment—“I had
imagined
, I’d worked up in my mind this little fantasy, when I’d tell Carter I was pregnant with his children, and his face would light up with joy, and he’d say oh my darling and take my hand and tell me he’d leave Blair and marry me and we’d float off together to the sound of violins.” She blew her nose and wiped her face. “What an idiot I was.”

“And now you think it’s probably more likely that he’ll want you to have an abortion.”

“What?” It was like being slapped in the face. Raising her head, Joanna stared across the desk at Jake. Her tears dried up in the heat of her fear. “Oh, Jake,” she whispered, shaking her head, “I never thought
that
. I mean, I thought he might not marry me, he might not be happy about it, but—” She sat silent, encountering this new and dreadful possibility.

“Carter’s big on control, Joanna. You know that much about him. He’d see these babies as a problem, and a potential for disorder. He’d see them as easily removable elements.”

“You’re right,” Joanna agreed. “I know you are. Oh, God, Jake. Why didn’t I realize that myself? I’m such a fool. I had thought—the reason I’m here now—I’ve decided that I have to disappear for a while, and not let anyone but you know, because I was afraid that if Carter knew I was pregnant, he’d be angry at me, and you know he’s such a
force
when he’s angry. I was afraid he might cause me to have a miscarriage. I mean, the doctor was awfully definite about the frailty of this pregnancy. He told me I need to avoid stress. And after the accident, I realized that Carter would be so upset about … all this … that he’d get me all worried and upset, too, and then … But I never
thought he’d want me to have an abortion.”

“Well, I could be wrong.”

“No, you’re right, I know you are. You’re absolutely right.” As anger, defiance, and pride sparked within her, she felt her old energies revive. “Thank God I came in and talked with you, Jake. Now I’m more than ever determined to get away from here.”

“Where are you going?”

“If I tell you, will you keep it a secret?”

“Of course.”

“I’m buying a house in Nantucket.”

Jake threw back his head and laughed. “You’re buying a house in Nantucket. Your doctor tells you to avoid stress, so you go off and buy a house.” He rose from his chair. “I’m having a drink on that.” Jake returned to the bar and added a splash of Scotch to his Evian.

“It’s the house of my dreams, Jake. It’s a beautiful house, it’s a treasure. And I know plenty of people on the island, it’s not like I’m going someplace totally foreign to live among strangers. It’s got lots of room, and I’m going to work on two books while I’m waiting for the babies. I’ve already spoken to Sheila about this—she’s been trying to get me to finish the books for ages. If I get them finished in time for publication next year, they should bridge the gap and keep my name in front of people until I can get back to FH.”

“Sounds like you’ve got things under control.” Jake’s smile was affectionate.

“I think actually I do. But I need your help.” Reaching into her briefcase, Joanna took out a letter she’d written on her FH stationery, addressed to Jake. She handed it to him. As Jake scanned it, the words she’d written tracked through her mind.

Dear Jake
,

Certain recent events have convinced me that I need to change my life completely. I’ve decided to go away for a while. Don’t try to find me. You won’t be able to. I feel the need to make a clean break with my past and I’m telling no one where I’m going. Don’t worry. I’m happy with my decision. I ask you to trust me on this
.

I’ve left enough new episodes of FH to carry you through next year, if you run the holiday shows again—we’ve got lots of letters asking us to repeat. I intend to return to work sometime next year, early enough to put together a new season of
Fabulous Homes,
and I’ll be doing some groundwork on that in my new location. In the meantime, I’m working on two books which already have contracts and which will come out in time to give FH a boost
.

Please say goodbye for me to everyone else
.

Affectionately, Joanna
.

When Jake had finished reading her letter, he raised his head to look at her. Joanna said, “You can say you found it on your desk.”

“All right. But what are you telling Carter?”

“Nothing. You can show him the letter. That will be all he needs to know.”

Jake was silent a moment, thinking.

“Even Carter,” Joanna pointed out, “self-absorbed as he is, will eventually remember how he treated me during the accident. He’ll think I was so—hurt, angry, shocked—by him that I decided I had to break it off with him, and the only way I could break it off would be to get out of range of his powerful charms.” Joanna smiled ruefully. “Which is not untrue.”

“What about all your fan mail?”

“I’ve written a note telling Gloria to forward it to my agent. I’m going to give Sheila my address—and instructions to give it to no one else.”

“And Tory?”

“I
will
tell
her
. She’ll be glad for me. She knows I’ve wanted children. And she’ll be glad I’m breaking it off with Carter. She’ll find it very easy to thwart Carter’s attempts to find me—if he even tries.” Restless at that thought, Joanna stirred in her chair, snapping shut the lid of her briefcase. “So that’s it. I’d better go. I’ve got a lot to do.”

“What about your apartment?”

“I’ll contact a rental agency. Let someone rent it for the year. It won’t take me long to pack up my personal possessions, and I’ll have movers come for them. Or maybe just UPS. I don’t know. These are things I’ve got to take care of.”

“When do you think you’ll actually be in your house?”

Joanna stood up. “As soon as possible.”

Jake rose, too, and walked with Joanna across his office. Snapping off the lock, he opened the door, then turned and studied her face. “It’s a remarkable thing you’re doing, kid. But then you’re a remarkable woman.”

Once more Joanna flushed helplessly with emotion that rushed tears into her eyes. “Jake, I’ll miss you. Will you come visit me when I’m settled?”

“Sure.” Reaching out, he pulled her against him and hugged her again. He kissed her ear, then gently released her. “You’ll be fine. You’ll be just fine. And you know you can call me if you need me. Anytime, day or night.”

“Thanks, Jake.” Now that the moment was here, she was finding it hard to leave.

“Hey. We’ll be talking about next season’s FH before you know it.”

“You’re right.”

“You’ll be back here so fast you won’t know you were gone.”

“I know. I know.”

“Take care of those babies,” Jake admonished her. “Eat right. No booze. Plenty of rest.”

Joanna smiled. “Okay, Jake.” Forcing herself away from him, she set off, walking through his secretary’s office and out into the hall.

The elevator doors slid open with a whisper almost the moment she pressed the down button. She stepped inside, punched the button for the lobby, and leaned back in the corner. She was so exhausted and revved up that even this elevator car with its walls of gorgeous swirled wood grain and its shining brass handrails felt intimate to her. Its hum and tremble as it carried her down forty-five floors was comforting; she knew its vibrations and sounds as thoroughly as if it were a kind of gentle, docile, ever-willing creature, a mixture of machine and beast. On the back wall just above the brass rail was a Z-shaped scratch in the veneer which Joanna smiled at every time she saw it: it had come from the buckle of her trench coat digging into the wood one night when Carter in his passion had pressed Joanna against the wall and himself against her. She ran her fingers over it; just feeling the narrow furrow made her body flush with lust.

Oh, she’d been happy at the network. She’d been happy working here, meeting Carter secretly, planning to meet him secretly. She’d been happy in this damned elevator, every single time she rode it, wondering if the door would open and Carter would step in.
Then his eyes would meet hers. If other people were in the car, he’d only nod and say, “Joanna,” in greeting, but the sexual electricity that flashed between them would exhilarate her for hours.

With a ping, the elevator stopped and the doors opened onto the vast quiet lobby. She stepped out. No looking back, she told herself. No regrets. She crossed the wide lobby and went out into the night.

Seven

At six-thirty on a bright May morning, Joanna boarded a plane destined from La Guardia to Nantucket. The air was fresh and clear. As the plane flew steadily northeast, Joanna looked down to see clearly the long speckled brown and green strip of Long Island, or the very bright, deep blue ocean.

But suddenly ribbons of mist were curling past her window, then the plane entered a thick mass of white. It circled and rose and fell, then turned, defeated, away from the bank of fog and toward the mainland and the Hyannis airport.

Once the plane landed on the runway, the pilot assured them with boyish optimism that they’d take off again as soon as word was radioed that the fog had lifted. The other passengers chatted and read; Joanna half dozed against the window. Finally they were all ushered off the plane and into the small terminal to wait for an announcement of improved visibility from the Nantucket airport. They waited. Free coffee in Styrofoam cups was available, but Joanna didn’t drink it. She sat in a plastic chair. She strolled around the room. She waited. She studied posters of endangered wildflowers on the cape and islands. The flight from Hyannis to Nantucket took only twenty minutes; the ferry two hours and fifteen minutes; but when after an hour the fog still hadn’t lifted, Joanna took a taxi to the steamship authority and boarded the nine-fifteen ferry.

Riding the ferry was like dreaming, Joanna thought as she leaned on the white rail looking out at the dancing water. A light breeze ruffled the curls of her wig against her cheeks and fluttered the hem of her gauzy cotton skirt gently against her legs. Everything in sight was haloed with the reflected brilliance of bright sun on radiant water.

She had an appointment at one o’clock with Bob Hoover; her lawyer, June Lathern; the sellers’ lawyer, Ernest Reilly; and the bank representative in charge of mortgages. Over the past six weeks all the necessary paperwork had been taken care of except for these final acts: signing over the money, signing the mortgage papers, signing the deed. Soon she would hold in her hand the keys to her very own house. After the
legalities were taken care of, Bob was going to take her out to Rainbow Motors to buy a four-wheel-drive vehicle, and still later she had an appointment at her house with Doug Snow, the carpenter Bob had recommended. June had asked her to have dinner and spend tonight at their place and Joanna had accepted.

Now the boat moved beyond the final tip of land and into the open ocean. It began to rock back and forth in a slow, gentle, irresistible rhythm, and Joanna felt the nausea, which had been lessening over the past few days, rise in response to the ocean’s swells. Bracing herself with her hand, she went back into the cabin and found the blue booth she’d marked for herself with her overnight bag and pale blue duster. She sat down and looked around.

This boat was named the
Eagle
. A strange name, she thought, for an oceangoing vessel. Why hadn’t it been named the
Whale
or the
Dolphin
or at least the
Gull
or the
Petrel
? The main, enclosed lounge was the size of a small auditorium, broken into two separate areas by a central compartment with restrooms and a snack bar. The low ceiling might have been oppressive were it not for the large sliding windows spanning the entire boat, the soothing cream of the walls, and the bright blue of the vinyl-covered benches and booths, which came only to shoulder level, giving a spacious air to the room. Her booth was large enough to seat four, two on each side of a white table, and as she looked around, she saw other passengers busy writing letters, or eating a late breakfast, or playing cards. Several dogs were on board: a Dalmatian with a red collar, a black Lab with a blue checkered bandanna around his neck, and a curly-haired yellow mutt being nuzzled on the lap of a curly-haired blond woman.

At the booth behind her, three women in jeans and sweatshirts and sneakers had settled in, spreading their belongings around them in a temporary nest: purses, shopping bags, coffee, doughnuts, paper napkins, magazines. Now a fourth woman, casually dressed, approached them.

“Did you have to spend the night, too?” she asked, and Joanna couldn’t help overhearing their conversation; the back of the booth was so low she could have rested her head on the shoulder of the woman seated behind her. She took out her notebook and studied her list, but the conversation next to her was lively and loud. All four women, she came to understand, were islanders who had flown off from Nantucket to go outlet shopping for a day. Their trip had been inspired by a special one-day round-trip airfare, but the plane they were scheduled on, the last plane at night, was grounded by fog and
they’d had to spend the night at the local Hyannis Regency. They weren’t too upset, because they got to eat at McDonald’s—a rare treat—and see a movie on a big screen. They began to describe their shopping finds, and Joanna filtered out their conversation and let her eyes roam the room for more exotic entertainment.