Change of Heart (14 page)

They were sitting watching a TV special one Friday night when the phone began to ring. Frank and Nora had gone to the movies and Cecelia made as if to answer it. “Stay there,” said Gil. “I’ll get it.”

It was his father-in-law. “I must talk to Cecelia,” Ricardo said tersely and Gil called to her.

“Hi, Daddy,” she said. “What’s up?” There was a brief pause and Gil, watching, saw her begin to frown. “I’ll get hold of him,” she said, “don’t worry.” She hung up the phone.

“What’s the matter?” asked Gil.

“Vic is colicking badly and Daddy can’t find Tim.” She frowned harder. “It’s Friday night—he’ll probably be at Mario’s.” She looked around frantically. “Where’s the phone book?”

“In my desk.” He went to get it and read the number out for her to dial.

“Is Dr. Curran there, please?” she asked. Then, “May I speak to him?” She tapped her foot impatiently while she waited. “Tim? Cecelia. Thank God I’ve found you. Vic is colicking and Daddy says it’s bad. Can you go out to the farm?” Pause. “Okay. I’ll see you there.” She hung up the phone and turned to Gil. “I’m going over to Daddy’s.”

“Cecelia,” he said patiently. “It’s after ten o’clock and it’s raining. Your father is there and the vet is coming. There’s no need for you to go as well.”

“You don’t understand,” she said. She walked to the door. “Vic is
my
horse, my hunter. I’ve had him since I was fourteen. I’ve got to go.” She left the room and Gil could hear her feet on the stairs.

He walked to the fireplace which they had blazing against the chill autumn evening. He was staring somberly into the flames when Cecelia came back into the room. She had changed her skirt for jeans, and against the weather she wore a slicker and rubber moccasins. “I’ll come with you,” he said.

“You can’t.” She came and kissed his cheek. “The Rosses are out and there’s no one to stay with Jenny.”

“I’d forgotten,” he said slowly.

She gave him a quick smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be with Daddy and Tim.”

He walked to the door with her and waited until the lights of her car had disappeared down the driveway. When he went back to look at the rest of the television show he was very white about the mouth.

He was still downstairs at three in the morning when Tim Curran brought Cecelia home. They came in the back door and Gil walked slowly through the house to meet them. The bright kitchen lighting shone mercilessly on Tim Curran’s face. He looked, Gil noted almost clinically, exhausted. “I’m so sorry, Cecelia,” he was saying as Gil came into the room.

Cecelia was facing Tim, her back toward Gil. “I know,” she said comfortingly. “You did all you could, Tim, and I’m grateful.” She reached out for a minute and gave him a brief hug. He was rigid between her hands. “Go home and get some sleep,” she said softly.

Over her head Tim’s eyes met Gil’s. “Yes, I will,” he answered Cecelia. The two men did not speak, and in a minute Tim had turned and gone back out to the yard. Cecelia turned slowly, wearily, and for the first time she saw her husband. He was standing with his shoulders against the kitchen door, motionless. The harsh kitchen lighting clearly showed her his face, but she could read nothing on it.

Hers was more accessible. There were dark shadows under her eyes and grief and weariness in the set of her mouth. “He died,” Cecelia said.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Gil put someone else’s need above his own. He stepped away from the door and held out his arms.

Cecelia took two stumbling steps across the kitchen and then she was held close to him, his warmth and strength against her cold, shivering misery. She began to cry. He lifted her in his arms and carried her through the house and up the stairs to their bedroom. Her face was buried in his shoulder and he could feel the sobs racking her slender body. “I know, baby,” was all he said, not trying to comfort her with words but only with his understanding.

He set her on her feet after he had closed the bedroom door behind them and stripped off her slicker. Her hands had been like ice as they clasped his neck. He steered her to a chair and said, “Sit down.” His calm manner was taking effect and her sobs began to slow. She sat down and he went into the bathroom and turned on the tub. He came out, said, “Wait right there,” and went out the door. When he came back he was carrying a glass of brandy which he handed to her. “Drink it,” he said. She lifted a shaking hand and his own warm strong fingers closed over hers, guiding and steadying them. When the brandy was finished he went back into the bathroom and turned off the water. “Come on,” he said to her. “Get into that hot tub and soak.”

She had left her moccasins downstairs in the mud room, and he knelt in front of her now and took off her socks. “Stand up,” he said and she did, allowing him to undress her and lead her into the bathroom.

The hot tub felt very good and her grief began to give way before weariness. She managed to get herself out and dried before Gil came in with her nightgown. He put her into bed, and when he got in himself next to her she said, her voice not quite steady, “Gil?” He turned and took her into his arms and she pressed her cheek against his shoulder, unspeakably comforted by his understanding, his undemanding care.

“Go to sleep, baby,” he murmured, and relaxed and warm in the security of his arms, she did.

She awoke from habit three hours later in the first gray light of morning. She moved cautiously so as not to awaken Gil, sleeping so deeply next to her. His arm was still around her.

But he was evidently not sleeping as deeply as she had thought for he woke almost as soon as she stirred. “You’re not getting up?” he mumbled.

“I have to.” She pushed her loose hair behind her ears. She was still leaden with fatigue. “Jenny’s class is going on a Field trip today and I promised I’d go along to help Mrs. Arnold.”

Gil looked very young with his sleep-tousled hair hanging over his forehead but his voice was full of authority. “You are not going anywhere today. You are staying in bed for at least the remainder of the morning. You look exhausted. Let someone else go.”

“There isn’t anyone else,” said Cecelia. “I’ve already called. Everyone’s either busy or working. And I cannot leave Mrs. Arnold alone to handle twenty kids. She has thirteen boys in that class!”

He looked resigned. “I thought you went on the last field trip as well. Why is it always you?”

Cecelia sighed. “I’m room mother. And I’m available.” She made as if to push the covers aside.

“Stay right where you are,” said Gil.

“But...” She looked in wide-eyed astonishment as he got out of bed himself. “
I’ll
go,” he said flatly.

She looked even more astonished.
“You?”

“Me. As a matter of tact, I’ll probably have more success than you in keeping the boys in line.”

She lay back against her pillows. “You probably will.”

He yawned and rubbed his head. “Where are the little brats going?”

“To the aquarium at Mystic.”

“Great. On a school bus?”

“On a school bus.” She pushed back the covers. “You don’t have to do this, darling. I’ll be fine.”

He gave her a look and she hastily pulled the covers back. “Go back to sleep,” he said. “We’ll see you later.”

* * * *

Cecelia was comfortably curled up in the morning room with a book when her husband and stepdaughter returned in the afternoon. Jenny came into the room first and Cecelia put down her novel. “How was the trip?” she asked.

“Great.” Jenny flopped on a sofa and kicked off her shoes. “Daddy took the whole class out for ice cream on the way home! It was super.”

“I’ll bet it was,” said Cecelia. “I hope the ice cream was a reward for you all behaving yourselves.”

“We were terrific,” Jenny replied virtuously.

“Even Jason Murray?”

“Even Jason Murray. He started to make funny noises on the bus and Daddy told him to quit it. You know that voice of Daddy’s—the
quiet
voice that’s so much worse than anybody else’s yelling,”

“I know,” said Cecelia.

“Jason shut up like a clam,” reported Jennifer complacently. “And he stayed with the group the whole time we were there.”

“You actually mean nobody got lost?” asked Cecelia incredulously.

“Nope. I mean yes. I mean nobody got lost.” Jenny giggled. “Mrs. Arnold said she wished Daddy would come on
all
our field trips.”

Cecelia grinned. “What did your father say?”

“He said he’d enjoyed himself. That’s when he took us to Friendly’s for ice cream. I wish,” said Jennifer, “he
would
come on all our field trips. He makes those dumb boys behave.”

On this accolade Gil entered the room. “What do you mean ‘dumb’ boys?” he asked his daughter with mock severity. “I think I resent that.”

“Oh, Daddy,” she said with great world-weariness. “They
are
dumb. They make noises and say stupid things. Girls are much smarter.”

Cecelia started to laugh and Gil said with amusement, “Talk to me about it again in a few years. I’ll bet you’ll change your mind.” He looked at his wife. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better.” She smiled at him.

“I forgot,” said Jenny in a very small voice. “I forgot about Vic.” Her eyes were full of tears.

“I know, honey. It’s all right. Go on upstairs now and change your clothes.” Cecelia’s voice was very gentle.

The tears spilled over and Jenny dashed from the room. Gil stared after her in bewilderment. “How can anyone change so quickly? She was bright as a button a minute ago.”

“Girls of Jenny’s age are very changeable,” Cecelia reassured him. “One has to be flexible. Now tell me, how did you survive your day?”

His face broke into the sudden boyish grin that was her favorite of all his smiles. “It wasn’t bad at all,” he said. He sat down in a comfortable armchair and stretched his legs in front of him. “They had a dolphin show. I’m a sucker for dolphin shows.”

‘Jenny was ecstatic.” Cecelia chuckled. “She said you even got Jason Murray to behave.”

“Um.” He looked at her from under faintly knitted brows. “You know, Mrs. Arnold is a very nice woman, but those kids walk all over her.”

“I know.” Cecelia sighed. “She’s a very creative teacher and the girls love her. But she’s not very good at disciplining the boys.”

“You can’t teach if the class is out of order.”

“I know,” Cecelia repeated. She arched a perfect brow at him. “I hear she invited you to come along on all future trips.”

“Yes,” came the astonishing reply. “I told her I’d try.”

Cecelia could feel her eyes enlarging. “You did?”

He laughed a little harshly. “Don’t look so shocked.”

“I didn’t mean to ...”

“I know.” He stared broodingly at the patterned rug at his feet. “You see,” he offered, trying to explain a little, trying perhaps also to apologize, “I never had a family life, not the way you had. There was always a nurse to take care of me when I was small, and when I was old enough I went away to school.” He gave her a fleeting look. “I don’t mean I was neglected or anything. But I never learned the give-and-take of family life.” He grinned. “My mother would no more have dreamed of going on a class field trip than she would have dreamed of shopping in a discount store.”

“I see,” she murmured very softly.

“I think Jenny was happy I came today,” he said.

“She was, as I believe I mentioned earlier, ecstatic.”

“I love my daughter,” he said, his eyes still on the rug. “It may not always show, but I do.”

“I know you do, Gil,” replied Cecelia gravely. “I’ve always known that.”

“Well, I’ll drive with Frank over to your father’s and bring back the wagon.”

“Okay. It’s in the stable yard.”

He nodded absently and left the room. His wife did not pick up her book again but sat for quite some time staring blindly into space. It was true that she had always known he loved Jenny. It was because he loved Jenny that he had married her. He had wanted someone whom Jenny was fond of and who would be good to her. Lucky Jenny, thought Cecelia with great desolation, to have his love. She herself had to settle for kindness. And it was not enough.

On Tuesday evening, November 3, Gil and Ricardo, both wearing black-tie evening dress, sat together in a reserved section just above the ring at Madison Square Garden in New York City. It was the opening night of the National Horse Show, a traditional society event, and all around Gil, dressed in black tie or gowned and jeweled, were a great number of familiar faces. Between him and his father-in-law sat Jennifer. Cecelia was somewhere down below them; she was to ride in the opening class of the opening night, a $2500 Open Jumper stake.

She had acquired another horse. Three weeks ago Maisie Winter called and asked her to ride a jumper of Maisie’s called Fairhaven. Maisie’s daughter-in-law had been riding him all summer and he had been doing fairly well in Open Jumper competition. “But, quite frankly, I think he can do better,” said Maisie to Cecelia. “When Judy broke her ankle I’m afraid I wasn’t as sorry as I should have been. Will you ride him for me, Cecelia?”

Cecelia had gone down to Maisie’s, tried him, and accepted. “He’s a tremendously strong jumper,” she told her older friend. “He’d do splendidly on the big European courses.”

“I’ve had the feeling all year that he could do better than he has been. Perhaps I’m wrong. But I know that if he has the capacity, you’ll find it,” Maisie had returned confidently.

Ricardo was delighted that Cecelia had two horses to show. He explained to Gil as they sat waiting for the show to open that it was not the horse who was named show champion in the Open Jumper competition but the rider. Quite simply, the trophy for Leading Open Jumper Rider was awarded to the rider gaining the greatest number of points on one or two horses in the Open Jumper division. Points were awarded for all ribbons won. “Naturally,” said Ricardo as he returned the wave of a person a few rows away, “a rider with two horses has a better chance of accumulating a large number of ribbons than a rider with one horse.”

“Naturally,” murmured Gil.

A very elegant-looking man in a military uniform came over to Ricardo. The two men spoke briefly and then Ricardo turned. “Colonel Carbone, may I introduce my son-in-law, Gilbert Archer.” Gil shook hands, murmured a few pleasantries and then watched Ricardo as he went with the colonel to speak to the group of people sitting with him.