Fox River (32 page)

I don’t know what I answered. I had lost all appetite.

By that evening, I began to have intermittent pains in my back and distended belly. Ian, convinced the baby’s arrival was imminent, phoned for the doctor and sent me to bed.

The baby didn’t arrive for two more days, two sultry, indescribably miserable days when labor would stop for hours, then begin again with new and fiercer intensity. Ian and Dr. Carnes consulted in hushed voices. Dr. Carnes called for a nurse, and a soft-spoken woman in white arrived to keep watch and make me as comfortable as possible.

I was sure I was dying; then I was sure I needed to. The warm maternal feelings that had grown during the pregnancy fled with each expanded pain. The heat was unrelenting, the humidity as thick as honey. When I could sleep I dreamed I was a prisoner in hell and the devil was riding astride on my belly.

Ian stayed near. He bathed my face with cool water and promised it would all be over soon.

On the third morning, just as the doctor was telling Ian he would need to intervene, the pains began again in earnest. An hour later our daughter was born.

Ian wasn’t in the room, of course. The doctor and his nurse delivered her as I clenched my teeth and bore down with what little strength I had left. The child, a tiny baby girl, made her way into the world, and I attempted to bleed to death in greeting.

I remember little about the next day. I was told only Dr. Carnes’s skill had kept me alive. Later I was shown my daughter, a red-faced, wailing child with tufts of dark hair and a rash.

Even later, I was told to cherish that pathetic, wrinkled scrap of humanity, that complications from the birth would make it difficult, if not impossible, to carry a child full term again.

I cried for hours, then dried my tears. I had wanted a daughter, and I had one. Deep inside I had worried about the logic of having more children, and now I had nothing to worry about. I had gone through hell to have this child, and I would never have to reexperience it.

Another day passed before I saw Ian. I didn’t ask how he had taken the news of a daughter, or how he had reacted as I hovered near death. I particularly didn’t ask how he had responded when he learned that his wife, the only broodmare in his human stable, would probably never breed again.

I was holding our baby when Ian came at last to see me. I had been bathed, my hair tied back with a blue ribbon. The baby herself showed signs that, eventually, she might be presentable.

I looked up without a word and waited for Ian to say something. The nurse was in the room, and the doctor was still in the hallway. I was grateful for their presence.

“You’re feeling better?” Ian asked politely.

I nodded. The nurse came and lifted our daughter from my arms and took her to Ian. I wanted to rise from the pillows and snatch her back, but I waited, hardly daring to breathe.

Ian didn’t take the baby, but he looked down on her obligingly. “She’s not much to look at, is she?”

“Not yet,” the nurse said. “They seldom are. But she has a lovely mother and a handsome father. She’ll be a pretty baby soon.”

“Perhaps you could leave me alone with my wife for a few moments?”

“Just don’t stay too long. Mrs. Sebastian needs her rest.”

He smiled coldly, and the nurse, taking the hint, ducked out of the room, carrying our child.

“Have you thought of a name?” Ian said.

It was the last thing I’d expected to hear from him. I had been waiting for accusations. I had not been an obedient wife.

“I like Alice,” I said. “Or perhaps Ann, for Annie? I don’t want to saddle her with Annabelle, and Annie wouldn’t want me to.”

He seemed to have lost interest in the question already. “Do what you like.”

“Perhaps Alice Ann?”

“Choose well, since it seems this will be your one and only chance.”

My eyes filled with tears. “Doctors have been wrong, Ian.”

“I suppose we’ll see.”

“I know you wanted a son.”

He waved away my words. “It’s customary at times like this to give a piece of jewelry.” He reached inside his jacket pocket and presented me with a narrow box.

Bemused, I opened it and drew a sharp breath. “Ian…” Staring up at me was a string of perfect pearls.

“They belonged to my mother. I thought you should have them to pass down to…Alice.” He said the name as if it was distasteful.

I lifted the pearls and thought of the woman who had first worn them, the woman who had not been able to please her husband.

“Did your father give them to her?” I looked up, still dangling the pearls in front of me.

“They were a wedding gift from her parents, I think.”

I don’t know what I would have done if the pearls had been a gift from Ian’s father. But these had been a gift on Claudia Sebastian’s wedding day, perhaps the last happy day of her life, although this wasn’t something I would ever know. They were a symbol of hope, hope that had been thwarted for Claudia and perhaps even for me.

But not for little Alice.

“They are lovely, and I thank you.” I tried to smile. “It does make me wonder what I might have gotten if I had managed to produce a boy.”

“My undying gratitude.”

“Worth more than any necklace, darling.”

He gave me the same cold smile he had given the nurse, then turned and left the room. I didn’t see him again until my convalescence ended.

J
ust after dawn the next morning Christian stood at the fence in informal hunting clothes as Samantha exercised a new filly. The filly was a roan, pretty as a picture and fast as a gazelle. Someone without an ounce of poetry in his soul had named her Mack’s Girl Cousin.

Samantha pulled up at last, the filly sleek with sweat. Another of Peter’s trainers was using the track, as well, and after they’d cooled down, Samantha walked the filly back to the gate to get out of his way. Christian followed.

“Looking good.”

“Peter has hopes for this one.”

“The two of you belong together. A matched pair, with that red hair.”

“If Peter decides to make a chaser out of her, I might see what I can do about riding her myself. I’m too heavy to be anything but a jump jockey.”

“You could stop eating again.”

“Could but won’t. I like feeling human.”

“Tiffany’s back in school today?”

“Uh-huh. I drop her off at a neighbor’s in the mornings, and she takes the bus from her house.” She dismounted as he held Mack’s head, then took the reins and started walking back toward the stable, where she would unsaddle Mack and rub her down. “Bet you didn’t get up this early to talk about Tiffany.”

“I wanted to catch you before I head off. I figured I could take a minute, maybe even two, to tell you what I discovered yesterday.”

“It must be important.”

“I’m not going to beat around the bush, Samantha.”

“You can call me Sam. I’d like it.”

“Sam. I spoke to Caroline Watson yesterday, along with some others on your list. Caroline was the most interesting.” He hesitated. “You aren’t going to like this.”

“Thanks for the warning, but if it’s about Joachim, nothing will surprise me.”

“She claims Joachim sold drugs to Fidelity.”

Samantha’s jaw hardened.

“Did you know?”

“About the time I got pregnant, I figured something wasn’t adding up. Joachim didn’t seem upset when I told him I was going to have a baby, even though my work dwindled the moment I started to gain weight. But there always seemed to be money enough to meet the bills, which was odd. Joachim had extravagant tastes, and polo rarely makes a man rich.”

“And you suspected drugs?”

“I suspected he had a rich girlfriend, but I was young, pregnant. I was depressed the marriage was such a bummer.” She shrugged. “I guess I didn’t want to know what was going on.”

“Do you believe it now?”

“Let’s just say it’s a nasty surprise. But I guess it’s possible.”

“Okay.” He believed her.

Samantha stopped just outside the entrance. “I do know this. Joachim wouldn’t have murdered anybody. He was definitely a ‘make love not war’ kind of guy. No temper, no grudges. That’s probably why he wasn’t the best polo player on the circuit. He just didn’t have the killer instinct.”

“Okay, I’m reaching here, but what about this? What if Fidelity got fed up with him. Maybe she threatened to turn him in for pushing drugs—”

“Then she’d have to admit she’d bought drugs from him.”

“If he had to, was Joachim capable of hiring somebody else to kill her?”

“Karl Zandoff?” She thought for a long moment. Finally she wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. It seems impossible. But I didn’t know about the drugs, either. If that’s true, then there must have been a lot I didn’t know.”

“Okay. Next question. When he died, did he leave anything behind? Letters, papers, bank statements? Anything that might give us more information?”

“That’s the only easy question you’ve asked. I have his entire apartment boxed and piled in a storage locker. He didn’t have any family in the States except Tiffany. When he died, the authorities asked me to be responsible for his stuff. I sold all the furniture. Leather sofas, chrome coffee tables. Nothing with any sentimental value. Then I had professionals pack and store everything else. I figured one day I’d go through it, keep the stuff Tiffany might want and get rid of the rest. But I haven’t gotten around to it. I guess I don’t really want to face Joachim again.”

“Yesterday you said you wanted to spend an evening together…”

“Oh, terrific. You and me under the bright lights at Acme Storage.”

“These days, that’s my kind of date.”

Julia liked Yvonne and trusted her implicitly. As her sessions progressed, she’d become more comfortable with the questions Yvonne asked and more secure about probing her own memory for answers.

This morning when Yvonne asked again about hypnosis, she tentatively agreed. “I’m sorry I overreacted before. I seem to be pretty good at that these days.”

“Sounds like you’ve been thinking.”

“I guess if I really want to see again, I have to do whatever it takes.”

“That’s a good step, although we’ll have to work on your enthusiasm.”

Julia’s smile was strained. “Just promise you won’t make me flap my arms and crow like a rooster.”

“We’re going to start slowly. You’ll be completely aware of everything around you. The moment you feel uncomfortable with something I’ve asked, you’ll come right out of it.”

“I can do that?”

“I’ll make sure you can. Today we’re going to remember a good day.”

At Yvonne’s instruction, Julia made herself comfortable in the soft armchair, settling back and resting her head. She closed her eyes, and for the next fifteen minutes she went through a series of relaxation exercises, tensing and relaxing different parts of her body until she felt absolutely limp. So far it had been surprisingly easy and nonthreatening, and Yvonne’s soft voice was like a river flowing through her.

“I’m going to count,” Yvonne told her. “And as I do, I’d like you to pretend you’re at the top of a grand staircase. It’s not high enough to be frightening, just a perfect sweep down to a cozy sitting room where you can see comfortable chairs and a fire blazing in the fireplace. You want to get there and snuggle in front of the fire because your favorite television show is about to come on. It’s the story of your life. But you’re in no hurry, because the show will only start when you’re comfortable and relaxed in front of the television.”

Julia could visualize the scene, adding details until it seemed as comforting as home.

“Are you ready to start down?” Yvonne asked.

“Yes.”

“Take the first step and pause. Breathe deeply as you go. You’re in no hurry. The fire will burn all night, the television isn’t on yet. The air is warm, and you’re dressed in your most comfortable clothes. You feel like you’re light as a feather and floating. And as you take another deep breath, you take another step.”

Julia lost awareness of time. She felt herself relaxing more deeply with every step. By the time she was sitting in front of the fire, she felt as if she were wrapped in a security blanket.

“There’s a remote control just beside your right hand, Julia. When you’re ready, you’re going to pick it up and turn on the television. You’ll keep the remote on your lap with your hand on it as you watch the story of your life. When you get tired or don’t want to watch anymore, you’ll simply push the off button and the show will end. You’ll sit quietly for a moment, then you’ll open your eyes and you’ll be back in this room. And you’ll remember everything you saw and did.”

“All right.” Julia was so relaxed it seemed odd to speak, but her voice sounded normal.

“As you watch the show, please tell me what you see. Since I can’t watch, I’ll have to depend on you. There are many channels on this television set and many shows. The one you’ll tune into now is a happy day from your past, a day when everything seemed right and you felt like you had the entire world at your fingertips.”

“That long ago, huh?”

“As long ago as you’d like. When you’re ready, go ahead and turn on the television.”

Julia knew she wasn’t in the sitting room in front of a fire, but the room seemed real. She could feel the heat from the fireplace, and the television seemed real, as well. In a moment she reached for the remote and slipped it into her lap. Then she pressed the power button and watched her past unfold.

“You know, Julia. You and Christian really can be prigs sometimes. It’s a joint. You won’t go insane if you smoke it. No one’s going to spring out of the bushes and arrest you. Right, Robby?”

Tonight Robby was dressed as if he’d just stepped off the tennis court. His white shirt and shorts set off his tan and dark hair to perfection. The four friends were lying on a hillside above Ashbourne.

“No one’s ever arrested me for anything,” Robby said.

“Somebody ought to arrest you for speeding so you’d take it easier on the roads,” Julia lectured. She waved away the joint. She knew she was overly cautious about life in general, but avoiding drugs simply made sense to her. She had never indulged.

Christian, who didn’t even drink, waved it away, as well, and Robby passed the joint to Fidelity, who drew the smoke deep into her lungs before she passed it back to him.

“What on earth do you two do for fun?” she asked, after she exhaled. “Oh, I know. Don’t bother to tell us unless you’re going to share all the juicy details.”

Christian laughed. “Is anything sacred to you, Fidelity?”

“Sacred? Like in church?”

They bantered, and Julia’s mind drifted lazily. It was a warm summer afternoon, heading toward evening. In a month they would all drift away to school again, Fidelity to Swarthmore, Robby to Yale, Julia to William and Mary, and Christian back to night classes at nearby George Mason, unless a last-minute scholarship came through. The four friends had gone swimming, then decided to sun themselves looking over the fields of Ashbourne. Except for the joint, which still made Julia uncomfortable, the day had been nearly perfect.

Robby tossed the spent joint into the lush grass and lay back on the blanket. They were like the spokes of a wheel, feet pointing to the four directions. Somewhere above them bees buzzed and crows cawed in chorus. A light wind drifted overhead, erasing the hard work of the sun.

“This is sacred,” Robby said.

Julia was surprised. Robby was not one to talk about his feelings. His mental powers were awesome, but if he experienced the world on other levels, he rarely discussed it.

“Why, Robby, how sweet,” Fidelity said. “You like being with us? I would never have known it.”

“You have to spell things out for Fidelity,” Christian told Robby. “She doesn’t have a subtle bone in her body.”

“Good old Fidelity,” Fidelity agreed. “What you see is what you get.”

“Julia now, Julia has hidden depths,” Robby said. “She’s more like me.”

“And what are you like?” Fidelity said. “What
is
the key to Robby Claymore?”

“The key?” Robby was silent a moment. “I just want what everybody wants, I guess.”

“And what’s that?”

“My own place in the sun.”

“You’ve got that right now.” Fidelity gestured toward the sky. “It’s right there above you.” She squinted. “Well, maybe not above you anymore. Going down fast…But still there.”

“What do you want, Fidelity?” Christian asked.

“Everything. As fast as possible.”

“What’s your hurry?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s a big old gorgeous world, and I want a big old gorgeous chunk of it. Is that what you meant, Robby?”

“Nobody wants as much as you do,” Robby said. “Your appetites are terrifying.”

“And just how would you know about my appetites?” Fidelity propped herself up on one elbow. She plucked a long blade of rye grass and tickled him under the nose.

Robby brushed it away. “I have eyes and ears.”

“What about
your
appetites?” Fidelity said.

“What exactly would you like to know?” Robby grimaced.

Julia giggled. Fidelity was seldom out of flirtation mode, and for once it was fun to see Robby playing along with her. The teasing went with the day. Lazy and sensuous, the kind of teasing only good friends indulged in.

Christian stretched his arms to the sky. “I want more days like this one. I don’t ever want to shut myself in a laboratory or an office. I want to be outside, under the world’s bluest sky—”

“Sweltering in the Virginia heat,” Robby said.

“Sweltering in the Virginia heat,” Christian agreed. “Riding some of the prettiest horses God ever made. Making a life for myself and Julia—”

“Hey,” she protested, “don’t I get to help make a life, too?”

“Making a life for myself and Julia, with her as my full-fledged partner in all decisions,” Christian amended.

Everybody laughed.

“And I want to stay here in Ridge’s Race,” Julia said. “I want us to have a home of our own—”

“Won’t Ashbourne do?” Fidelity drawled. “Little old Ashbourne’s not good enough for you?”

“A home,” Julia went on, as if Fidelity hadn’t interrupted, “children, horses, and both of you as close to us as you are now.”

“Back to you, Robby,” Fidelity said. “You’ve got to do better than a place in the sun.”