Portraits (38 page)

He pulled her against him, kissed her. “Darling, when we’re married I guarantee you’ll never be away from me. You’ll probably get sick of me but it won’t do you any good. You’re stuck, for better or worse, with this old party named Jim Ross…”

Nonetheless, it was a sad Rachel who walked upstairs to her room that night

No sooner had she started to undress than Sara opened the door. “I want to talk to you.”

Rachel badly wanted to be left alone.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, so you tell me, coming home any time you want—?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Sara was about to answer when she spotted the ring on Rachel’s finger. “Where did you get
that
?”

Rachel was furious with herself for forgetting to take the ring off.

“I
asked
where you got that.”

“From a man—”

“You tramp, you rotten little…I knew you’d come to no good, even with the convent.”

Rachel was trembling as she began to get dressed again. She would not remain in this house and take this abuse one more minute.

Sara pulled her around so that they were facing each other. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m
engaged
, damn you. You and your mind. I’m going to get
married
, can you understand that?”

“Why, are you pregnant?”

Rachel’s eyes were full of tears. “You’re crazy, you really are…”

“Well, if I am it’s because of you. And if you’re engaged why didn’t you come to your parents like a decent girl and
tell
us?”

“Because I don’t
have
the kind of parents—”

“And this lover of yours…”

Rachel grabbed her coat and purse, her blinding tears almost making her stumble down the stairs.

She ran until she found a phone.

Jim was frightened by her voice. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“I need you, Jim. Please come and pick me up…
please
.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“My mother found out about us, there was a terrible scene.”

“Darling, there won’t be a ferry until two this morning. Let me think.” Damn, he was in San Francisco and Rachel needed him now. “Darling, I’m going to call the Oakland Hotel and make a reservation for you. Take a taxi and I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

It was almost three-thirty when Jim knocked on her door. When she opened it her eyes were red from crying. He embraced her and then led her to the settee, where Rachel sat clinging to him. Stroking her hair, he said, “Now tell me what happened.”

“It was terrible…my own stupidity…I forgot to take my ring off for the first time. When I got home
she
rushed into my room and started her usual tirade. I honestly think there’s something a little crazy about her. She said things I’m ashamed to tell you…”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to speak to them. I should have done it before.”

“I didn’t want you to be hurt. I can’t explain them.”

“Look, I’ve faced a few difficult people in my life.”

“But not like them—!”

“You’re not to worry, let me do that. Now, please get some sleep, Rachel. I’ll take a room and later this morning we’ll go see your parents.”

“Can’t you stay with me?”

“No, darling, let me do this my way, will you?”

He kissed her and left…

Sara was in her room when she heard the car stop in front of the house. When she peered through the curtains and saw the blue Cadillac, she gasped. She was undeniably jealous as she watched Jim help Rachel out of the car.

Rachel unlocked the door and for a moment, as she stood in the hall, she thought she’d pass out, but she knew there simply was no way to avoid this. Taking Jim by the hand she said, “Darling, you wait in the livingroom. I’ll have to tell them I’m home.”

But Sara had already come down the stairs and now stood waiting to be introduced. Rachel almost gasped when she saw that Sara was wearing the dress she had worn to temple. Sara hadn’t worn the dress since; she’d had no reason to. For a moment, in spite of herself, Rachel could feel sorry for her…

“This is my fiancé, Jim Ross.”

“Mr. Ross.” Sara forced herself to respond graciously.

“Mrs. Sanders, I’m very happy to meet Rachel’s mother.”

I’m sure, Sara thought. She could imagine what Rachel must have told him about her. She could hardly stand the sight of them, feeling they must have spent the night together…after all, where else would Rachel have disappeared to except…“Thank you, Mr. Ross. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ll call Rachel’s father.”

Rachel began to tremble. She had reason to. Sara had kept Jacob awake for most of the night with her tales about Rachel, and by morning he could hardly wait to see Rachel and this
man
. He was primed for battle.

When he walked into the room his face was set, his jaw tight as his cold blue eyes looked from one to the other.

“Papa, this is my—”

“I’m Jim Ross, Mr. Sanders,” Jim said, extending his hand.

Jacob didn’t acknowledge the gesture. “Sit down. All right, now please tell me about this.”

Jim remained standing. “Rachel and I are going to be married.”

“How old are you, Mr. Ross?”

“Forty-two…”

“And do you know how old Rachel is?”

“Yes.”

“And you think she loves you?”

“Yes, Mr. Sanders, I do.”

“And how long do you think that will last?”

“For the rest of our lives, I hope.”

“Don’t bet on it. Think about this. When you’re sixty-five, she’ll be forty-two. You really think a marriage like that can last?”

“It depends on the people—”

“You think so, do you?”

“I know so. There are people the same ages whose lives are hell together.”

He ignored that, but didn’t overlook it. “I’m sure you know we’re Jewish.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want my daughter to marry outside her religion.”

Sara sat back, listening, and watched Rachel twist her handkerchief in trembling hands.

“Well, Mr. Sanders, I’d be happy to accommodate you, but one doesn’t have much choice about the religion one’s born into.”

“That’s very clever, but the fact remains I forbid Rachel to marry you.”

“Mr. Sanders, I’m afraid you’re not in a position to forbid Rachel anything. She’s of age. But let me tell
you
something. I have a daughter, so I’m going to give you a little advice. If you want to lose Rachel forever, then continue on as you are and I give you my word that Rachel will
never
want to see you.”

Jacob looked at his daughter. “Why didn’t you come to me, Rachel?”

“You know why, papa. I was afraid.”

“But you weren’t afraid that maybe you owed us something, your mother and me? We worked to bring you up as a decent girl, and this is our thanks, sneaking behind our backs—?”

“If you and mama were parents I could confide in, I would have come to you—”

“And we’re not?”

“No, papa, you’re not,” she answered without looking at him.

“All right, Rachel, you can go upstairs and pack and get married by a priest…”

“I’m getting a divorce, Mr. Sanders.”

Jacob stood shaking his head. “I see. And how long will it be before you’re divorced?”

“About eight months.”

“What kind of a man are you to take a young girl and—”

“Mr. Sanders, you’ve said a great many things I wouldn’t have taken from anyone else, but because of what Rachel means to me, I have. Let me warn you, Mr. Sanders, don’t make a statement you’ll regret. Rachel is going to be my wife. As a man, I’m sure you understand what I mean.”

It was obvious from the size of Rachel’s ring and the way Jim Ross was dressed that Jacob couldn’t ask how he was going to provide for his daughter. Still, how had Rachel met him? Well, he’d find out later…“Rachel, you have eight months to change your mind. And you’d better be damned sure, because once you get married, young lady, you will
never
come into this house—and I’m sure you understand what I mean by
that
, Mr. Ross.”

Jim took Rachel’s arm. Looking Jacob in the eye, he said, “I wouldn’t worry too much about that, Mr. Sanders. Now if you’ll excuse us…Come on, darling.”

On the way out Jim turned once more to Sara and Jacob. “Mr. and Mrs. Sanders, it’s been a pleasure meeting you.” …

Rachel sat very quietly at dinner, as did Jim…The pain was as much his as hers. How, he wondered, could people like that have a daughter like Rachel? Perhaps he ought to ask himself the same question…He had sacrificed a huge part of his life for Maureen, and she had badly disappointed him when he needed her most…“Darling, I’m not going to Argentina.”

Rachel looked up. “But you said it was very important.”

“It is, but some things are more important. I’ll have someone else take over the project. I’m not that indispensable…It’s clear you’re in for a very bad time and I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I seem to be coming between you, your daughter
and
your business…”

“Nothing’s as important as you are, Rachel, nothing.”

“I love you, Jim Ross. I really do. I was afraid to at first…but I do now. Can you stand it?”

His answer was to take her in his arms.

The following months were filled with the kind of joy and excitement Rachel had never believed could happen to her.

This evening they attended the opening of the opera. Earlier they had dined with some of Jim’s friends, and from the looks on their faces he knew that later there would be whispers that he had robbed the cradle. But it didn’t bother him at all as he looked at the most beautiful woman in the world, dressed just as Rachel
should
be—in the Schiaparelli that he had bought her.

They shopped together for her trousseau, but most exciting for Rachel was furnishing their home. They selected Royal Crown Derby china, gold Minton serving plates, Baccarat crystal, sterling silver. Rachel found herself adjusting to her new role as though she was born to it. She would not feel guilty, no matter what mama said…

When the boxes began to arrive from Gump’s at the house in West Oakland, Sara opened them, caught between frustration and jealousy. Imagine Rachel coming into all this. She had fought for years with Jacob to furnish the house, and he still refused. Didn’t
she
matter? Her antagonism grew, not only toward Rachel but Jacob. Her depression deepened too as the boxes continued to arrive, day after day.

Rachel was annoyed that the boxes had been opened, but said nothing. Sara’s attitude toward her was near intolerable, and Jacob was mostly cold, indifferent. Sara, of course, had never confided in him the things she had said to Rachel that night; she had told him only that Rachel was undoubtedly carrying on an affair. His anger had grown to the point of deep hostility, helped not a little by the fact that Jim Ross made him feel damned uncomfortable. He took no joy in the fact that Rachel was moving up in the world. Thanks to Mr. Wonderful James Ross…King of the
goyim
…

Three months before Jim’s final decree he insisted that Rachel stop working and concentrate on furnishing the apartment at the Brocklebank, and they engaged Arnold Delacourt as their decorator.

The evening they were to be married they wandered from room to room admiring the home they would soon share, looking out to the blue bay and the distant shoreline of Oakland.

Suddenly Rachel was just plain overcome. It couldn’t be happening to her…it would all disappear, she’d wake up and be home again—

“You’re trembling, Rachel—”

“I know.”

“Why, darling?”

“Because I’m so wonderfully happy, and still not sure it’s for real.”

“It’s real, Rachel. And prenuptial jitters are something most people go through—”

“No, it’s not
that
. I can’t wait to marry you. I’ve wanted you so badly, I don’t suppose it’s been a secret.” She smiled.

“It wasn’t easy for either of us, darling. I’m not made of wood.”

“I know.” Her eyes misted with tears. “I only hope I’m up to all this happiness…I’m not exactly an old hand at it, you know…”

Two days later Jim and Rachel stood before the judge and were married. In spite of everything Rachel had asked her father and mother to be present, and they had refused.

That night they spent their honeymoon in the suite Jim occupied at the Fairmont. He’d received a bottle of rare champagne from a friend and together they toasted their future.

“To the beginning.” They clicked glasses and embraced. Jim held her for a long moment, then released her. Rachel changed her clothes and soon Jim was beside her. She thrilled to his touch. Gently, he took her to him. She had been worth waiting for…

And she felt the same about him.

The next night, immediately after dinner, Sara said to Jacob, “We’re going to furnish the house, once and for all. This time, Jacob, I will not be put off.”

He knew from the look in Sara’s eyes that it was, finally, time to give in.

Sara was not to be outdone by her daughter…“She’s starting out with more than I’ve had in twenty-one years. I’m not going to live like this anymore.”

“It’s a shame you didn’t wait and marry a rich man. Rachel didn’t meet Mr. Ross at her mother’s sink, you know.”

“You’re not a poor man anymore. I not only want to furnish the house, I want a car.”

Before he had a chance to reply, Sara was out of the room and running upstairs. She sat on the bed and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was fat and close to forty. What did she have to show for all the years? Well, enough of that.

The next day she walked into W & J Sloane and bought with a vengeance. When Jacob received the bills, he was furious.

“We don’t need such fancy bedrooms. Who needs to spend money on something no one sees? Doris and Lillian can’t sleep unless they have four-poster beds?” But he could have saved his breath.

Rachel’s fine marriage revived Sara’s determination in another direction as well. Almost daily she received postcards and snapshots from such exotic honeymoon spots as Hong Kong and Tokyo, showing her daughter exquisitely turned out in a Japanese kimono, complete with the ceremonial obi about the waist. But what especially caught her eye was the Japanese parasol…evoking as it did memories of that day so long ago when Jacob had proposed to her on the beach in Coney Island, and she’d had a parasol too…when she had been young, and delicate, and
thin
…