Possessions (61 page)

“Oh, Ross, I love you,” Katherine said and, holding a shoe in each hand, put her arms around him. “No one has ever given me deck shoes for my birthday; no one has ever given me shoes. Thank you, thank you—” She kissed him and he thought how natural those words sounded in this small apartment that she had made for herself and her children. She tilted her head. “I'll wear them to dinner with my yellow silk from Paris, shall I? And set a new style?”

“Why not? It might be just the thing for Fisherman's Wharf.”

“Don't tempt me,” she said, laughing again as she disappeared into the bathroom. And by the time she was toweling dry after a quick shower, thinking back over the past week, it seemed to Katherine that she had everything: work, Ross, her children, the love of Tobias and Victoria, the friendship of Leslie. She opened the door a crack to let out the steam and was struck with the pervasive scent of white roses.

No, she thought. Not everything. I have it all—except my freedom.

*  *  *

“He's out on bail,” said Leslie, helping herself to more pasta as she answered Katherine's question about Gil Lister. “Working in a warehouse in Oakland.”

“A warehouse?” Katherine asked.

“I think he tells the robots which merchandise to pull down from which shelves. Or maybe the robots tell him. One of these days he'll go on trial and we'll all be called as witnesses, but until then I don't pay much attention to him.”

“Will he go to jail?” Todd asked.

“I hope so,” Leslie said cheerfully. “He's the one who fired your mother, you know. We wish only discomfort for him.”

Katherine handed the platter to Bruce. “And what about you?”

“Head of Data Processing,” he said promptly. “As of today, September first, a memorable date. My sis has more clout than ever, so my well-deserved promotion came through—of course, as I predicted, I am doing an admirable job, in fact, offers are pouring in for my unique services from far and wide.”

“You're not going away, are you?” asked Todd.

“Ah, afraid of losing your private instructor.”

“No,” Todd said. “Well, partly. But mostly, I'd miss you.”

Bruce's eyebrows danced up and down. “Well, now, that's mutual. No, I'm not going, at least not yet—my sis needs my protection until she makes up her mind to get married.”

“Bruce,” Leslie sighed.

“And anyway the truth is I don't want to go anywhere—I don't want to leave my family.”

“Your family?” asked Jennifer. “Who do you have besides Leslie?”

“No one. Leslie is all I need. A family is one person who loves you and cares who you are and makes your private world a rich and boundless garden. Of course the more the merrier, but if you've only got one be thankful. Does anyone mind if I finish the spaghetti?”

“I do,” said Todd, and they divided it. “Our family's weirder than yours,” he said, slurping in dangling strands. “There's Mom and Jennifer and me, and there's Dad, who's gone, unless you count last New Year's and last week when he sent about a hundred roses for Mom's birthday that smelled up the whole house, and then there's Victoria and Tobias who are kind of funny, but fun, and Carrie and Jon who are great, and Derek who nobody likes, and then there's Ross who Mom is in love with and is probably going to divorce Dad and marry.”

Seeing that Katherine was speechless, Leslie said casually, “When?”

“What?” asked Todd.

“When is your mother going to divorce your father and marry Ross?”

“How do we know?” he said indignantly. “Nobody tells us these things!”

“Then how do you know she's going to do it at all?”

There was a pause. “Carrie and Jon say that's what all the parents in their school do.”

“Most of them,” Jennifer put in.

“Well, most of them. But anyway.”

“What I think,” Leslie said thoughtfully, “is that your mother isn't about to do that.”

“Why?” asked Jennifer.

All of them, even Katherine, looked at Leslie, waiting for her answer. Hell, she thought. Look who's a guru; I can't even answer my own questions about me. “Because,” she said wisely, “when you're in the middle of a tornado, you sit quietly and wait for things to settle down so you don't get clobbered.”

“Tornado,” mused Bruce. “Tornado, tornado—why, sis, what a clever thing to say.”

“There isn't a tornado,” Todd declared, but doubtfully, since Bruce had approved it.

“A tornado,” Leslie stated, “is turbulence sending things flying in all directions. Your dad is in Canada or Alaska or somewhere; you're in San Francisco, in the Sunset; your great-grandmother and Tobias live on Pacific Heights and you never even knew you
had
a great-grandmother until a year ago—”

“But—” Todd began.

“Don't interrupt; I'm just getting started. You go to a country club in Mill Valley, across the bay; you've just come back from France, across the ocean; your mother worked at Heath's and then had a contract with a scoundrel named Mettler and now has contracts with three other stores; Carrie and Jon live with their mother in Tiburon and spend most weekends with their father in the Berkeley hills; Ross and your mother seem to have become very good friends while they were in France—maybe they even fell in love—but she's still married to your dad . . . good Lord, are things going in all directions or aren't they? A wise person makes no predictions. Everything could change tomorrow or next week or not until next year. The best thing to do is sit tight, don't worry, and remember to duck when unidentified flying objects come your way.”

Katherine had been smiling, then, as Leslie went on, she grew thoughtful. Everything could change, she repeated silently. Remember to duck.
Someone is going to get hurt, no matter what happens.

Jennifer and Todd were giggling. “Sis,” said Bruce, “you are a genius. I am proud to be your family.”

“I'm proud to have you.” She gave him a long, prodding look.

“Oh, right,” he said, remembering. He turned to Jennifer and Todd. “You want to talk about mothers and fathers and turbulence? I can tell you a thing or three about all that—and I can do it while beating you at underhand-overhand Frisbie.”

“You cannot,” said Todd.

“I can indeed and I say it so confidently that I declare the loser will buy ice cream cones—do we go to the park or don't we?”

In a minute they were gone. “Planned in advance?” Katherine asked Leslie.

“Of course. Isn't he impressive? I told him I wanted a private talk with you and he managed it like a pro. He is a pro. The best thing that ever happened to Heath's Data Processing department.”

“You're the best thing around here, today. Thank you, Leslie. Every time I think I'm getting better at handling whatever comes up, something new comes up.”

“It certainly does. Are you going to tell me about it?”

“I wrote to you and last week I told you on the telephone—”

“Yes, but not how you felt. Not the inside Katherine. If I hadn't been out of town I'd know everything by now. Are you in love with him? Well, I see you are. Was Todd right about divorce and so forth?”

“No.”

“You're not going to divorce Craig?”

“No. And you haven't told me anything about you and Claude.”

“My loose-lipped brother did it for me.”

“It's true, then? You are going to marry him?”

“It sounds like college, doesn't it? Comparing our love lives. All we need is a dormitory and a box of candy. Am I going to marry Claude? Sometimes. My mind changes itself, depending on the day of the week. I assume Todd exaggerated the number of birthday roses that arrived from Canada.”

“You're changing the subject.”

“Not anymore than you did. Anyway, we're both talking about husbands, aren't we? One potential; one absential.”

Katherine laughed. “You sound like Tobias.”

“I couldn't; I don't read poetry. Katherine, are you in love with Craig?”

“With Craig?”

“Your husband. Remember?”

“I don't think so. I mean, of course I remember, but I don't think I'm in love with him anymore. I'm not the same person I was; I don't suppose he is, either. Whoever he is. Craig Fraser. Craig Hayward. I've learned more about him in the past year than in all the years we were married.”

“Were
married?”

“Living together; we're still married.”

“And he's been gone almost fifteen months. Katherine, what the hell are you waiting for? You just celebrated—or deplored—your thirty-sixth birthday. When you get to those numbers you stop dallying and make quick decisions. Haven't you noticed how the years slip through your fingers? You barely grab one and it's gone.”

“What about you? When are you getting married?”

“I told you, my mind changes each—”

“And what about a baby? You were thinking of having one.”

“I haven't decided yet.”

They broke into laughter. “OK,” Leslie conceded. “I may not be the one to give advice on quick decisions. But what
are
you waiting for?”

Katherine's laughter dropped away. “Less turbulence,” she said.

“Less—? Oh. My tale of a tornado. That was only to divert your kids; it wasn't serious.”

“It was to me; I do feel as if we've been tossed around by a storm. We're still being tossed—when those roses came, that's how I felt. And if you recall, you said we should sit tight and remember to duck. It was good advice. A tornado is no place to make a decision.”

“So you're not going to do anything.”

“I'm going to work, spend time with Jennifer and Todd, wait for Craig . . .”

“Without Ross?”

Katherine shook her head. “I can't stop seeing him. I love
him . . . and I haven't felt this way in so long—as if I have the most wonderful secret that's always there, with me, whatever I'm doing . . . It makes everything more complicated, to love him, but it makes everything so wonderful . . . I can't push him away.”

“That sounds like a decision, lady.”

“Half of one. He thinks I should divorce Craig.”

“Sensible man. Katherine, what are you worried about? Someone getting hurt? Someone always gets hurt. Even when you least expect it. Let me tell you about Marc; he wormed Claude's name out of me . . .”

Curled up in a corner of the couch, Leslie told Katherine the story. “Now you tell me,” she said at the end of it. “Did I owe Marc anything after all those years when he spent money on me, squired me all over town and a good part of Europe, and was a most pleasant companion in bed?”

“Hardly a marriage,” Katherine said dryly. “He didn't support you; you didn't have two children and a home you'd made; you never made a commitment to spend the rest of your life together.”

“True. So you owe Craig undying loyalty and I owe Marc nothing?”

“I don't know what anyone ‘owes' anyone,” Katherine said, feeling frustrated. “It's what we
feel
that's important.”

“And you don't feel that you want to be free?”

Katherine looked at her in silence. Finally, she asked, “Why can't you make up your mind about Claude?”

“Because I'm not sure I trust my feelings, and that means I'm not sure what's best for both of—oh, well.” She grinned at Katherine. “I see what you mean. All right, I shouldn't push you. But, Katherine—”

“Yes?”

“Think of yourself first. I know you have to pay attention to your kids and all those other people around you, but you owe it to yourself to take care of yourself. You're the only one you can really trust to do that.”

After a moment, Katherine said, “In a good marriage, or a good friendship, people take care of each other.”

“There aren't many good marriages or friendships. When women think of themselves last, which they usually do, men and kids think of them last, too.”

With a glint in her eye, Katherine said, “Were you thinking of yourself first when you didn't fire Bruce?”

“Well, but sometimes . . . Oh, hell,” Leslie admitted ruefully. “Love messes it up. You start wanting to protect someone, or help, or just
do for . . .”

“And doesn't Claude want to help you, and do things for you?”

“He does. I'm not used to it yet. Maybe I don't trust it. After all, you thought Craig wanted to protect and do for you . . . Damn, I'm sorry, Katherine.”

“It's all right. It's true. But he did take care of me for a long time, and I still don't know what forced him to stop doing it. And even if I was wrong about him, does that mean I shouldn't trust anyone else?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why not try trusting Claude?”

“When you put it like that—damned if I know. But that's enough of Claude; I want to talk about you.”

“No, it's enough about me, too. Tell me about Heath's.”

“All right; if you tell me about France. Your letters were wonderful, but I want more. All the details. What is it?” she asked when Katherine began to laugh.

“You sound like Victoria.”

“Well, whatever that means, tell me what you think I should hear. Bruce promised to make the game and the ice cream last at least a couple of hours. God, lady, I missed you—I haven't had a good talk since you went away.”

*  *  *

Ross had talked about BayBridge so often that Katherine thought she had a clear picture of it in her mind. But, on Saturday morning when she stood with him and saw its length and breadth, with twenty-five buildings gutted but still standing, and construction equipment scattered about like huge yellow insects beside excavations and newly poured foundations, she was stunned. “I had no idea. I remember saying it sounded as if you wanted to build small towns . . . but I never thought I'd see one coming to life, all at once.”