Beverly Byrne (13 page)

The
stories about different American lifestyles particularly interested her. Amy
had seen nothing but the east coast; the magazines told her that there were
other parts of this country, and she realized that some of them, the West for
instance, were more like her beloved Africa. All the same, it was silly to
dream about that. Tommy's world was New York, and she had chosen to share it when
she married him. So she turned the glossy pages of the magazines and fought off
any doubts about the wisdom of decisions that now seemed irrevocable.

Sunday
was Amy's only day that was not outwardly serene. Tommy donned striped trousers
and morning coat and joined his family at the eleven o'clock high mass. She
refused all suggestions that she accompany him.

"I'm
not saying you should be Catholic," he insisted. "Just come along. I
want to show you off."

"No.
I'm sorry, I don't want to do that."

He
went without her. The rest of Sunday was often tense and pointless. In June
they received an invitation to the Dominican Priory in Dover. Luke was to be
"clothed in the habit of the order."

"What
does that mean?" Amy asked.

"He's
a full-fledged member of the club. Dressed up in the white robes. A bona fide
man of religion."

"Is
he a priest?"

"Not
yet. That takes years. Six or seven with the Dominicans, I think."

Amy
didn't want to go. The affair was bound to be ostentatiously Catholic. Recently
Lil had invited her to join some of the women's organizations at St. Ignatius.
Amy didn't feel she could refuse, and she'd gone to a few meetings. She found
that she hated being among pious believers. She certainly didn't want to go to
Dover.

At
the last minute she pleaded illness and said they should go without her.
"I can't stay home," Tommy said. "Lil and Warren are counting on
me to drive. It's too far for Uncle Warren to manage alone."

"There's
no reason you shouldn't go," she said. "Delia will look after
me." So he left her in the care of the maid and went.

They
were due home by suppertime Sunday night. When nine o'clock came Amy rang Lil's
apartment to see if Maureen had heard anything. Lil herself answered the phone.

"But
he dropped us off here at quarter to six," she said. "He must have
had some place to go and forgot to mention it." Lil went on to tell Amy
about the ceremony at Dover. "Luke looked marvelous in the habit. And so
deeply prayerful. We were all touched."

Amy
hung up, worried and angry.

Tommy
returned after midnight. He was very drunk. Amy put him to bed and thought he
was asleep, but he grabbed her arm and wouldn't let her go.

"Sorry,"
he muttered thickly. "Damn fool thing to do, get drunk."

"It's
all right," she said. "Just go to sleep now."

"Oh,
no, sweetheart, it's not all right. Damn shame. Everything all messed up.
Everybody wanting what they can't have."

He
sounded so very sad. Amy forgot that she was mad and pushed the brown curls
back from his forehead with gentleness. "I don't know what you're talking
about," she laughed softly. "Neither do you. You're too far
gone."

Tommy
spoke with sudden and surprising vehemence. "I bloody well do know. Never
was fooled by old Luke. Everyone else, not me." He tightened his grip on
her wrist. "Kept asking about you, wanting to know why you didn't come. Me
too. Why didn't you go, Amy?"

She
tried to pull away. "You're hurting me. I told you why I didn't go, I had
a headache."

"Yeah.
Old Luke, he's got a headache too. Or a heartache maybe. Too late. He lost and
I won." He sat upright and yanked her closer. Amy lost her balance and
sprawled across his lap.

"You're
mine," Tommy said. "My wife, not Luke's."

"Stop
it. You're drunk, Tommy. Let me go and just sleep it off." She was
desperate to end this discussion, for her sake as well as his. "Please,
darling"-her tone became placating-"Iet me go and I'll get
undressed." He released her wrist, and she rubbed it while she went into
the bathroom and changed into a nightdress.

Amy
guessed that he would want to make love to her, and she was prepared to endure
what must be a drunken fumbling attempt. But when she joined him in the big
double bed he was snoring, and she knew that he'd not wake before morning.

9

A
FEW DAYS AFTER THE TRIP TO DOVER TOMMY returned early from the office.
"Where are you, darling?" his voice boomed up the stairs.

Amy
had been resting. She left her bedroom and went to the landing. She wore only a
negligee, and she clutched it to her in embarrassment when she saw that Tommy
wasn't alone. Two couples stood with him in the foyer. Delia was busy taking
the men's hats and the light summer wraps of the ladies. "I'm so
sorry," Amy managed to say. "I didn't realize we had guests."

"That
we do," Tommy said. "Get dressed and join us."

When
she went to the drawing room all five had cocktails in hand. "You remember
Kitty and Charlie, don't you, darling?" Tommy's voice was hearty, and he
was grinning. She'd not seen him look like this since before their wedding.
"This is Lou Rheingold, and his friend Suzy Randolph," he said.

Amy
smiled and nodded. She had a vague recollection of meeting these people at
parties the previous winter, but they looked decidedly alien sitting in her
house. And this time she was in the unaccustomed role of hostess. She walked to
the bell by the fireplace while she made some reply to the greetings. When
Delia came Amy asked that hors d'oeuvres be brought. Delia rolled her eyes and
implied trouble, so Amy followed her into the hall.

"Cook
say she ain't gonna feed six people without no more notice than this,"
Delia announced. "Don't know if she's gonna produce no fancies
either." Delia announced the crisis with satisfaction.

"Just
tell her to send up some cheese and crackers," Amy said. "And don't
worry. They won't stay for dinner. "

Tommy
paid no attention to Amy's domestic maneuvering. After about an hour they'd all
had quite a few of Tommy's champagne cocktails, and finished the crackers and
cheese. He said, "You'll stay for dinner of course. "

Amy
said anxiously "You're forgetting, I gave the servants the evening
off." She flashed him urgent messages with her eyes. He grinned at her
over the top of his glass.

"So
you did. No matter, we'll all go to Delmonico's. "

When
the lavish, laugh-filled evening was ended Tommy signed the check with a
flourish and waved aside the objections of the other men.

"You
look terrific," he told Amy later. "I haven't seen you with so much
color in your cheeks in weeks. We need more of that. "

"More
of what?" she giggled. "Color in my cheeks?" Amy had drunk a lot
of champagne.

"No,
silly. More good times and friends. We've been living like a couple of
hermits."

She
stretched her arms over her head in a feline luxurious gesture. The thin voile
of her beige gown drew tight over her breasts, and the spangles at her hips
danced in the glow of the soft lamp on the dressing table. "It was
fun," she agreed.

Tommy
was sitting on the side of the bed. "Come here," he said hoarsely.

Amy
executed a twirling dance step and hummed under her breath. The movement
brought her within reach of his powerful arms, and he drew her down beside him
and kissed her hard. His hands roamed over her body. He searched her curves and
crevices as if they were new to him. "You're so beautiful," he
murmured huskily. "And you're mine."

"Wait,
I'll get undressed," Amy said.

"No,
I don't want to wait." Tommy pushed up the long skirt of her gown. The
sheer fabric bunched in his hand and made more sensual the feel of her leg and her
hip. He kissed her again, and tasted the champagne in her mouth while he
fumbled with her delicate lace panties. They slid down as far as her knees, and
his fingers explored the little rubber grips of her satin garter belt and her
silk hose. The assembly was too complicated for him to remove with one hand.
Then he felt the gentle rise of her flesh beneath his palm, and knew he didn't
have to bother.

When
he touched her Amy fought off the desire to pull away. She told herself she had
no right to resist, that if she was a good wife, she'd welcome her husband's
caresses. If only he wasn't always in such a hurry, if only he'd give her a
little more time.... "Wait just a moment," she whispered again. But
Tommy jerked open the buttons of his trousers and rolled on top of her.

His
climax came seconds later. He didn't kiss her afterward, or say nice things in
her ear. He almost never did. He just got up and staggered into the bathroom.

While
Amy was getting undressed Tommy lay with his arms folded behind his head and
tried to think. He wasn't drunk anymore.

There
was only a bitter taste in his mouth and an unsettled feeling in his stomach as
reminders of the evening. He listened to Amy running the water, first the taps,
then the shower, and to the small female sounds that had become familiar to him
since marriage. And he pondered his reactions and hers.

He'd
felt guilty about the scene when he came home from Luke's clothing ceremony.
That's why he'd sought out Charlie and Lou and their dates and brought them home.
He'd told himself Amy needed a bit of fun, some break in the domestic routine.
Well, she'd had it all right. And then she tried to resist his lovemaking. He
knew why. Because she didn't want to be married to him, she wanted Luke.

Whore.
The word came into his head unbidden. Tommy pushed it away.

But
the word wouldn't disappear. Whore. He heard her humming softly, and he knew
that she was brushing her thick black hair. He could picture the graceful
gestures. Amy brushed her hair one hundred strokes a night; by now he had seen
it often. But was it him she wanted to please? No, not the way she acted.

When
she got into bed and snuggled up to him, murmuring endearments, he patted her
arm perfunctorily. He didn't sleep at all. He kept thinking about this girl who
was his wife, and about her exotic past, and he wondered how much part that
played in the truth he was beginning to recognize.

The
dinner at Delmonico's took place on Wednesday evening. Friday morning Amy's
telephone rang.

"Hi,
it's me, Suzy. Don't you remember?"

Amy
summoned up an image of a tall willowy   blonde with bobbed hair, saucer-size
blue eyes, and a permanently vacant expression. "Oh, Suzy," she said
with more enthusiasm than she felt. "Of course I remember. How are
you?"

Suzy
was fine. She was calling to see if Amy would join her for lunch and a bit of
shopping. Amy's first instinct was to refuse, but she found herself agreeing to
a time.

It
was a pleasant afternoon. When she went home Tommy was waiting and mentioned
that he had accepted an invitation to a party the following night. They were
launched anew on the same hectic whirl they had known during the winter.

The
dinner for twenty-four given by the Westermans two months later in August rated
three paragraphs on the society page of the
New York Herald
. "...
eleven exquisite courses and decor of the utmost chic," the columnist
gushed. "Mrs. Westerman chose an Arabian Nights theme . . . footmen
dressed as blackamoors, candlelight and incense ...the most ravishing music
provided by a foursome from abroad. Heaven knows where the clever young things
found them!"

Amy
flushed with pleasure. The party had been fearsomely expensive, but wonderful.
And attention like this was good for Tommy's career. Too bad she hadn't talked
more to the wife of his boss, but never mind, it had all been a huge success.
She folded the newspaper and laid it on her breakfast tray. Then she looked at
the mail. There were some bills, which she set aside for Tommy without opening
them, and a few thank-you notes and invitations.

There
was also an envelope with the return address of the doctor she had consulted
last week. Amy's fingers trembled slightly when she opened it.

The
news was positive. She was expecting a child. Slowly she lowered the sheet of
stationery and looked out the window. The sun was pouring in through the sheer
curtains. It would be hot again, but after today she and Tommy wouldn't be in
the city.

They
were going to Long Island to spend the weekend with Lil and Warren. For a
moment Amy regretted the plan. She would much rather tell Tommy her news here
in their own home. She was fairly sure he would be pleased. Sometimes when they
passed children on the street Tommy remarked that it would be nice when they
had one of their own. Not that he ever said a lot about it. These days it
seemed to Amy that they talked very little. How could they when they were
always in the midst of people?

She
stretched out her hand and touched the embroidered linen sheet. They were alone
here, of course. But it wasn't a place where they talked. Tommy made love to
her often, but he never spoke to her afterward. He only rolled over and went to
sleep. Sometimes she suspected he took her more in anger than love. That was
crazy, wasn't it? Why should he be angry?

Amy
pressed her hands to her stomach and smiled. He wouldn't be angry about this.
Pregnant. She said the word over in her mind and decided that she preferred it
to any of the euphemisms women sometimes used. That's what she'd tell him as
soon as the opportunity arose. I'm pregnant. And she would watch him smile his
crooked smile and look the way he had last summer, when they were both so much
younger.

She
dressed with care. A white linen dress with navy blue trim made her look cool,
even if she didn't feel it. No jewelry, just her rings and an elegant gold
watch which Tommy had given her a few weeks earlier. When she was satisfied
with her appearance she clipped the newspaper column describing their party.
Then she put it and the doctor's letter in the dressing table drawer. She'd
show Tommy both things when they returned from Atlantic Beach.

Her
watch had a cover of blue enamel inlaid with pearls. Amy flipped it open and
was surprised to see that it was nearly eleven. Suzy Randolph was coming for
lunch in an hour.

Then
they were going to tea with some other friends. At five she was to meet Tommy
at Pennsylvania Station, and they would take the train to Long Island. On
impulse Amy opened the drawer and put the letter and the clipping in her
pocket. They didn't know too many people on the island. Maybe they could take a
walk on the beach, just the two of them, and she could share her news.

She
opened the bedroom door to find Delia standing with her hand raised, ready to
knock. "You has a visitor, ma'am."

"Miss
Randolph! But she's early."

"No
ma'am, ain't Miss anybody. It's a gentleman."

Amy
opened the drawing room door and saw him. He stood with his back to her, a tall
slim figure who had lost neither his elegant catlike grace, nor his aura of
intensity. She hesitated on the threshold and swallowed hard. He was staring
out the window, one hand propped casually on the wall, the other tucked in his
pocket. She took a deep breath, then said, "Hello, Luke. "

"Hello,
Amy." He didn't turn around.

"Tommy's
at the office. We didn't expect you."

"I
haven't come to see Tommy."

"I
see."

"I
doubt that," he said softly. "I doubt that you see anything at
all."

He
still hadn't faced her. Amy closed the door and moved forward. The room was
pleasantly cool, and scented with lavender from a bowl of potpourri on the
coffee table. She stood for a moment and waited. He didn't move. "Would
you care for coffee? Or a sherry perhaps? I can ring for Delia."

"I
don't want anything."

At
last he spun round and looked at her. If anything, he was more handsome than
she remembered. There was a tautness to him now, a kind of honing of all his
features. He was more himself than ever.

Luke
was aware of her scrutiny. "Am I so changed?"

"Not
really. I'm just surprised to see you. And I didn't think you wore ordinary
clothes anymore."