Good Intentions (34 page)

“What’s going on?” she asked quietly.

Renee stared at her sister’s puzzled face, still praying she was wrong, knowing she wasn’t. She felt empty,
eviscerated, as if someone had reached down and scooped out her insides.

“Suppose you tell me.”

“I don’t understand …” Kathryn began, then stopped.

“Neither do I,” Renee said simply, then: “Is it true?”

Kathryn said nothing, her eyes darting back and forth between her sister and Debbie, who stood transfixed, afraid to move.

“Is it true?” Renee asked again, not elaborating.

Kathryn walked past them into the living room and sank down into the white sofa, looking out at the ocean exactly as Renee had done earlier.

“Is it true?” Renee said for the third time. “Is it? Have you been sleeping with Philip?”

Kathryn looked confused and helpless, as if she had stumbled onto the scene of a murder and now found herself face to face with the killer, understanding there was no escape.

“I already know the answer,” Renee said when it became obvious that Kathryn would not, or could not, speak. “I just want to hear you say it.”

“Why?” Kathryn asked, her voice achingly low.

“Because I guess I won’t really believe it until I hear it from your mouth.”

There was an endless silence before Kathryn finally spoke.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she whispered, and Renee felt her composure start to crumble. An audible cry escaped her mouth, and she grabbed her stomach as if she had been punched. Debbie backed up against the wall. Nobody seemed to breathe. “I can’t tell you why it happened,” Kathryn went on, her voice a frightened plea.
“I don’t even know how it happened. I love you. You’re my sister. You’re all I’ve got. I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

“Then why did you?” The question was painful in its simplicity. Renee reached for the arm of the white chair, her body collapsing into the soft cushion. Why was she still here? Why didn’t she just leave? Isn’t that what Debbie had asked her?

“I was so unhappy, so confused,” Kathryn was saying, obviously trying to sort out the answer in her mind as she spoke. “So frightened. I felt so guilty about Arnie’s death. I didn’t know whether I wanted to live or die. I thought Philip was my friend.” She lowered her head, and when she raised it, she looked even more confused. “He’d been so kind to me. He seemed to understand what I was going through …”

“He’s a psychiatrist, for God’s sake! That’s his job.”

“Maybe. And maybe in the beginning, he was just trying to help me. But then it changed. Or maybe it was there right from the start. I don’t know. I don’t know how he felt. I know that I felt better when he was around. He made me feel safe.”

Renee felt her sense of betrayal turning to anger, then to rage.

“And so you took advantage …?”

“No!” Kathryn’s voice was suddenly strong. “I didn’t. It wasn’t me!”

“What are you trying to tell me? That my husband seduced you? That he would be stupid and insensitive enough to make a play for my own sister?”

“I’m not saying it was all his doing.” Kathryn stumbled to her feet. “I know I could have said no. I know I could
have stopped him. But I didn’t know how. I didn’t know what to do. He came home from work early one afternoon and I was there. Debbie was gone for the day. We started to talk. He started to rub my back. He said I needed to relax, that he knew how to make me feel better. I was so confused. He’d been so kind to me. He was so understanding …”

“You already said that.”

“I’m not trying to say it was all his fault. I know I’m as guilty as he is …”

“You seduced him! You saw something you wanted and you went after it. You were lonely and unhappy and probably more than a little bit jealous. And it didn’t matter who got hurt or what damage you caused, as long as it made you feel better. As long as you got what you wanted.”

“No, that’s not true. It wasn’t what I wanted.”

“How many times didn’t you want it, Kathryn? Once? Twice? Five times? Ten times? Did you know that Debbie came home one day and saw you together?”

“Oh God.” Kathryn closed her eyes, her body swaying. She looked as though she was about to faint.

“And that memorable afternoon I got the ice cream that was meant for you!”

“Oh God, oh God, I’m so sorry. Please tell me what you want me to say,” Kathryn cried, her features looking as though they might dissolve. “Tell me, please. What is it you want me to say?”

“I just want to hear the truth! I want you to admit that you deliberately seduced my husband. That you took advantage of his kindness and concern, and twisted it around …”

“No. You’re the one who’s twisting. I never wanted it to happen. I felt sick about it. Whenever he touched me, I wanted to die.”

“But you didn’t die, did you?” Renee jumped to her feet, grabbing her sister’s damaged wrists and holding them angrily up in the air. “You never do.” She flung Kathryn’s hands back to her sides. “Goddamn you,” she cried, bursting into tears. “Goddamn you.” Then, catching only a brief glimpse of Debbie’s startled face, she rushed to the apartment door and raced out into the hall. It was only when she was behind the wheel of her car, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand, that she realized she had seen Debbie smile.

“W
here are we going?” he asked, climbing into the front seat of her car.

Lynn looked over at Marc and gave him her best Mona Lisa smile, saying nothing. She didn’t feel like talking.

“I take it everything went well this afternoon,” he continued.

“Gary signed the agreement,” Lynn told him, feeling she owed him something of an explanation. All she had said to him on the phone earlier in the evening was that she had arranged for a sitter and would pick him up in an hour.

“Speaking of signing things,” he was saying, “I relinquished my power-of-attorney over my father’s funds today.” Lynn regarded him quizzically but said nothing. “It’s
his
money. Why should I have any control over how he chooses to spend it? If he wants to send his nurses to Greece, that’s his business. If he wants to buy a fleet of baby-blue Lincoln convertibles, what right do I have to rain on his parade? I don’t know. It just never felt right, my taking over that way. Besides, if I’m a good boy, maybe he’ll let me borrow his car one day. What do you say?
Do you want to go with me on Saturday and see if he’ll let us take it for a spin?”

Lynn said nothing, her eyes back on the road. She didn’t want to talk about his father. She didn’t want to talk about anything.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” he asked after several minutes.

“I thought we’d celebrate my victory.” There was an edge to her voice she couldn’t quite disguise.

“Is something the matter?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, you obviously weren’t interested in hearing about my father, and you sound almost … I don’t know … angry.”

“Why would I be angry?”

“I don’t know. Are you?”

“Of course not. I got what I wanted, didn’t I?”

“I don’t know. Did you?”

“Can we just drop all this cute repartee?” Lynn asked, her voice tense. “I’m sorry. I guess I just don’t feel much like talking.”

“Are we there yet?” he asked. She knew he was hoping for a smile, so she tried to oblige, forcing the corners of her mouth into something between a grin and a grimace. Marc leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.

Lynn tried to concentrate on the road ahead, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. Why had he said she sounded angry? What was he talking about? She didn’t sound angry at all. Why on earth would she be angry? She’d won, hadn’t she? She got to keep her children and her house. She’d used Gary’s threats and turned them against him. And hadn’t that been
wonderfully satisfying? The look on his face when he learned he wasn’t the first of Suzette’s infidelities! That alone was almost enough to make up for the anguish he had put her through. Why shouldn’t she feel satisfaction at his humiliation?

She reminded herself of what Gary had put her through these last few weeks. How could he have been prepared to use their children so cruelly against her? How much anger he must have been hoarding through all those seemingly happy years of marriage that he had tried to hurt her in this way! How could he have been so spiteful? Wasn’t leaving her for another woman hurtful enough? Had it really been necessary to put her through—put
both
of them through—this afternoon’s ordeal? How long would it be before she could look at him with anything other than contempt? How much time would have to pass before she could greet her children’s father at the door to her house with something other than forced conviviality? And how much did her anger at Gary have to do with her rendezvous with Marc tonight? Goddamn him, she thought, looking over at Marc, wondering which man she was damning. How dare he suggest she was angry!

“We’re here,” she said, pulling her car into a narrow parking lot and coming to a sudden halt between a new sports car and an old sedan.

Marc opened his eyes and looked around. “Lynn …”

“Come on.” She was out of the car before he could say another word.

“Lynn, what are you doing?”

“This was your idea, remember?” Lynn took a deep breath and walked past him into the office of the Starlight
Motel, trying to savor the look of surprise in Marc’s eyes as she requested a room and plunked forty dollars on the desk. “It may not be the same room they had,” she explained, walking briskly down the outside corridor, “but it’ll do.” She inserted the large, unwieldy key into the lock and pushed open the door.

Marc flicked on the light switch as she closed the door behind them. The lamp over each of the two double beds, as well as one perched on top of a chest of drawers, came on, illuminating a standard beige-and-brown room. A large television set sat in the far corner beside a small circular table. The dark drapes were pulled shut. “It looks like my apartment,” he said with a wry smile.

“Turn out the light,” she told him.

“Whatever the lady says.” The room went suddenly dark.

“Don’t talk.”

She was suddenly in his arms, her body pushing against his, her hands on his face, her fingers at the sides of his beard. She pressed her lips hard on his, her tongue forcing his lips apart. Clearly, she had taken him by surprise, she thought, feeling him stumble slightly as she pulled at his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders, trapping his arms at his sides.

“Easy,” he said, trying to return her kisses, match her ardor, but unable to find her rhythm or anticipate what she wanted to do next.

“Easy’s no fun,” she said, using Renee’s words. “I don’t want to go easy.” Again she covered his lips with hers as he struggled to free his arms of his jacket. Her hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, but her fingers were too impatient and she had little success. She felt him reach
down and pull his shirt free of his pants, then push her fumbling fingers aside so that he could do the job himself. That accomplished, his hands slid effortlessly around her, wrapping themselves across her back, holding her still, trying to slow her down. She pushed herself free and backed just out of his reach, not waiting for him to make the next move, pulling her blue jersey over her head, unsnapping her brassiere, and placing his hands on her bare breasts.

He needed no further encouragement. Marc picked her up and deposited her on the first of the two beds, kicking off his shoes and pulling her sandals free. Then he was on the bed beside her, his lips tenderly on hers, his hands soft and gentle as they traced the curves of her body. Lynn quickly rolled over on top of him. She didn’t want soft and gentle and slow and easy. She wanted hard and fast and over and done.

She wanted to be taken roughly, violently, with no time to think, no time to feel. Her hand moved to the buckle of his belt and she tugged at it impatiently until she felt it loosen, her fingers quickly moving to the button of his pants, pulling down on the zipper. She reached inside, her hand wrapping firmly around his penis.

“Hey, take it easy,” he said, flinching at her touch.

She ignored him, manipulating him in her hand as if she were rolling a piece of Plasticine, feeling him grow soft as her efforts increased. What was happening? She realized he was trying to push her away, to slow her down, but she would have none of it. Didn’t he realize there wasn’t time for soft caresses? That that wasn’t what she wanted? What was the matter with him? Why wasn’t he responding?

She pulled at her own slacks, unzipping them and twisting them down over her hips, kicking them free before guiding his hand between her legs. What was the matter with him? Why wasn’t he getting aroused? She was doing everything she was supposed to. Gary had always liked it when she was the aggressor. She moved down on Marc with her lips, trying to take him in her mouth.

“Lynn, you’re hurting me,” he whispered, his hand on her shoulder, pushing her mouth away.

“What’s the matter?” she asked angrily, trying to force him into an erection.

“I’m not a punching bag, Lynn,” he said, evading her grasp and pushing his body into a sitting position, covering—protecting?—himself with his hands.

“I thought you wanted to make love to me.”

“I do.”

“That’s not the message I’m getting.”

“You’re not giving me much of a chance.”

“How much of a chance do you need?” Lynn buried her face in her hands, fighting back the tears. “What’s going on, Marc?”

“Suppose you tell me.”

“I thought this was what you wanted. You said as much the first time we met. You said you wanted to go to a motel room, preferably the same motel room, preferably the same bed …”

“I know what I said.”

“Well, here we are. Or close enough.”

“What else did I say?”

Lynn looked helplessly through the darkness. What was the matter with him? Why this insistence on dialogue? She didn’t want to talk. She had already told him that.

“What else did I say?” he repeated stubbornly.

“Is this some sort of quiz? Do I get a prize if I get the right answer?”

“I also told you I think I’m falling in love with you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”