Seasons of the Heart (36 page)

Loathing himself as he did it, one morning Adam went through her luggage and found several bottles of gin. Felicia had obviously been taking nips whenever he turned his back.

Confronted with the evidence, she responded with denials and threats to call her uncle. The honeymoon had turned into a disaster. They sailed for home three weeks early. Pacing the deck of the liner, Adam wondered what he had gotten himself into. Then he reflected that he was being unfair. Felicia had been spoiled since the minute she was born. He had to give her a chance to grow up. For God’s sake, the poor girl was so pathetically young…. He resolved to do what he could to help. With understanding and patience, there was no reason that Felicia couldn’t mature into an exemplary wife and mother.

He spent the rest of the voyage trying to patch up his shattered marriage. They were established in their new Park Avenue apartment for only six months when Adam finally had to admit that his wife—the woman he had pledged to spend his life with—not only had an uncontrollable temper, but a second-rate mind as well. No, that was far too kind. The truth was that Felicia was simpleminded.

He felt deceived, trapped, humiliated. Her family must have known about her failings. He investigated and learned that she had never gone to school beyond the fifth grade. The stories of tutors with PhDs and elegant Swiss schools were lies; she couldn’t speak a word of French. In addition, she was emotionally unstable and unable to assume any kind of responsibility.

Now he realized why her family had been willing to settle for Adam Gayne from Brooklyn, and he bitterly resented Daniel’s part in the sordid plot. Adam’s first thought was divorce. But, as if divining his intent, Felicia announced she was pregnant.

Nine months later, Michael was born. In spite of everything, Adam thought the world of his son, who seemed to have inherited his father’s intelligence. He lavished on the little boy all the love he was unable to feel for Felicia, and personally saw to his care and well-being. It was fortunate for little Michael that Adam did, since after the birth Felicia went completely to pieces. She became sickly and hysterical, refusing to get out of bed or to share that bed with her husband.

Adam vowed that there would be no more children, but then fate intervened. To keep up appearances, Adam and Felicia had gone to the wedding of Felicia’s cousin in Lake Placid. The famed resort was a winter wonderland, and many of the guests were staying for the weekend to enjoy it, but Adam, claiming a pressing workload, insisted on driving back to New York. Shortly after leaving, it began to snow heavily. Adam motored grimly on, but after an hour they skidded around a curve and stalled their car in a drift. The heater stopped functioning, and, even bundled in her sables and fur-lined boots, Felicia was soon shivering. When she realized that they were really stuck, she pressed her tiny body against Adam and cried, “Adam—I’m afraid! We’re going to die here—I just know it.”

Adam tried to calm her, but nothing helped. The wind howled through the bare trees, and even he was becoming alarmed as the snow continued to pile up around the car.

He strained his eyes through the windshield and finally noticed a light.

“Felicia—there’s some sort of building out there. Can you make it if I carry you?”

“Please, Adam,” she begged. “Please.”

As Adam slogged through the drifts, Felicia kept repeating, “When will we be there? When will we be there?”

After about two hundred yards they stumbled up the front steps of a small country inn and were greeted and given hot tea by the sympathetic proprietor. Felicia stood in front of the potbellied stove, trying to get warm, while Adam signed the register. Then he took her arm gently and guided her up the steep wooden steps.

Their room was small but cheerful. There was an old-fashioned four-poster with a faded down comforter on it. The rough muslin sheets scratched Felicia’s delicate skin as she climbed under the covers in her slip, shivering and sobbing, near hysteria.

Adam, totally exhausted, undressed, climbed in beside her, and turned his back to her, ready for sleep. But as the wind continued to howl and sleet pelted the rattling windows, Felicia pleaded, “Adam, please hold me. Kiss me, I’m scared. I’m scared….”

Adam groaned, then turned and put his arms around her, moved in spite of himself. At first he had no intention of making love to her, but it had been a long time, and he found it impossible not to respond. He was shortly to curse his weakness.

Nine months later a daughter was born, a blond, blue-eyed cherub whom they named Renata. She looked so much like Felicia that Adam could not immediately bring himself to love her. She was a tangible reminder of his folly.

Felicia became increasingly withdrawn and unmanageable, leaving the children entirely in the care of the nanny Adam had hired for them. They stopped entertaining altogether. She drank more and more heavily, and all she could say when he tried to talk to her about it was, “I can’t cope, Adam! I simply can’t cope with it all.”

The outside world terrified her, and at the thought of leaving the house, she became hysterical. One morning she tried to throw herself off the balcony. The maid stopped her just in time. It was then that Adam summoned her family, who agreed that she might benefit from a few months in a sanatorium.

The institutionalization was just the first of many, leaving the children entirely to Adam’s care. He was a good father, learning to love Renata as much as her brother. He felt that it was up to him to try to give them a sense of stability despite their mother’s problems. After all, they hadn’t asked to be born.

But when Michael had turned twenty and Renata eighteen, Adam had decided that it was time to consider his own needs. Even Uncle Daniel didn’t object, possibly because he felt guilty about the entire situation. Adam had just gone through the preliminary motions of divorce when Felicia signed herself out of the sanatorium near Boston where she had been for some months. Friends picked her up and drove her with them to the airport, where they took off for Greece.

They apparently hired a yacht, because several days after a long, drunken dinner, Felicia fell overboard. She was not missed until morning, and by the time her friends were sober enough to call Adam, her diminutive body had washed ashore at Mykonos.

Adam was deeply saddened when he heard the news. He had long since stopped loving Felicia, but he had certainly never wished for her death. He flew to Athens and made arrangements to have her remains sent back to America.

After the funeral, he was somewhat startled when a lawyer reminded him that he was her sole heir. They had never revised the will drawn up at their marriage.

Shortly afterward he transferred most of the money to the trust funds he had set up for Michael and Renata. To his amazement, both children objected violently to the gesture. Worse, Michael began to act as though he hated his father. Apparently the boy had felt closer to his pathetic mother than Adam had suspected, and had spent considerable time with Felicia even though Michael was officially under the care of others.

Michael had secretly blamed his father for Felicia’s mental breakdown; now he blamed him for her sordid death. Adam could keep his money; Michael was going to India with some friends. He refused to say what he would do there.

Renata was more tolerant. She said she knew that Adam had basically cared about Felicia, but she still refused either his money or his affection. She was going to live with an art teacher in New Hampshire. They would get by somehow.

Adam was appalled when she brought her boyfriend home. He was shabby, wore his black, greasy hair in a sort of pigtail, and spoke an almost incomprehensible English. Adam pleaded, cajoled, threatened. Why couldn’t she wait a few years? Renata was doing well in school—why did she want to drop out? But he failed to dissuade her. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I love you very much, but it’s my life and this is what I want.”

Since then, his children had almost vanished from his life, and the only recognition they accorded him was a Christmas card or a birthday telegram from time to time.

A
NN HAD LISTENED TO
Adam’s story spellbound. “Darling,” she said finally, “let me pour you a drink.”

He looked up, startled to be back in the present. “I’m sorry I burdened you with all that, Ann.”

She reached over and took his hand. “Nothing is a burden if it concerns you, Adam. My God! I never could have imagined that you’ve been through all that. It makes my problems look pretty small.”

“We all have our share of troubles, I guess.”

“That’s true—but you handled yours with courage. And I love and admire you for that.”

Their eyes met. It was time to put the ghosts of his past to rest.

“Enough of the past,” he said, his tone changing. “Let’s get dressed and go out. I’ll tell you what—I’m going to take you to a disco and we’re going to dance until dawn.”

“But, Adam—I don’t know the new dances.”

“You’ll learn, darling. I’ll teach you. Now, come here.”

When she sat on his lap, he said, “You won’t ever leave me, will you?”

“Never,” Ann replied simply, and she believed it. But she had forgotten that Thanksgiving was approaching and Evie would expect her home. Or perhaps at that moment she didn’t want to remember.

For several days she did nothing but devote herself to Adam. She would wake up thinking of him, spend the day waiting for him to return from the office, and every night invent new ways to satisfy him. But at the end of the week she was not only fielding calls from May, she knew she had to return to see Evie. Her daughter would never understand if she wasn’t home for the holiday. Ann wondered how she would be able to leave Adam, even for a long weekend, when she was having difficulty even being away from him for a matter of hours.

The thought of telling Evie terrified her. She had retained her suite of rooms at the Plaza in case Evie tried to call, but once back in San Francisco, Ann knew she’d have to confess the truth. Remembering how Evie had reacted to the news about Linda, Ann knew she would regard Adam with equal distress. Evie kept hoping her parents would get back together, and the mere mention of other people in their lives enraged her.

Sensing her distress, Adam was extra loving as Ann packed to go back to San Francisco, heartsick at leaving.

“Darling, what will I do without you?” Ann asked.

“It won’t be for long, thank God.”

“What will you do?”

“I’ll be with one of my partners. Next year we’ll all be together. Evie, too.”

She looked at him with tears in her eyes. “Do you think that’s possible?”

“Not only possible, but a certainty.”

“Oh, Adam,” she sighed, touched by his strength. “You could move mountains if you wanted to.”

He laughed. “Maybe not mountains, but surely one eighteen-year-old Berkeley coed with her mother’s violet eyes. I think I’m a match for her.”

But once she was on the plane, Ann was filled with fear of what was to come. When the cab drew up in front of her house, she was shaking so badly she couldn’t fit the key into the lock. Finally, she got the door open and called out, “I’m back.”

Wiping her hands on her apron, Consuela came out from the kitchen. “Oh, Mrs. Coulter! I’m so happy to see you! You’re looking wonderful.”

“And I’m happy to see you, Consuela. Did Jurgensen’s bring all the groceries I ordered?”

“Yes, they did. And I already have the pumpkin pies baked for tomorrow. Would you like a piece?”

“Maybe later. Have you heard from Mr. Coulter?”

“Yes, he’s called once or twice to see if I needed anything. He’s a nice man.”

“Yes, he’s a very nice man.” And she meant it.

Slowly, she walked up the stairs to her room and gazed around. She had worked so hard for all of this, but as she surveyed her possessions, she realized that none of it meant a tinker’s damn. Money without love was worthless.

When the phone rang she picked it up expecting Adam, who had promised to call to see if she had arrived safely. But the voice on the other end was Evie’s.

“Darling,” Ann lied. “I was just about to call you.” The truth was that she hadn’t decided what to tell Evie.

“I figured you’d be home by now,” Evie said with unmistakable coldness.

There was a long, awkward pause. “You sound angry, Evie. What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know, Mom. I guess I’m mad at the whole world. You kind of walked out on me, you know. One day you’re a basket case and the next you’re flying off to New York. Everything’s fine—you’ve decided to accept the divorce. Well, where does that leave me? You sure kept it a secret that you didn’t care about each other.”

Ann let her get it all out of her system.

“Dad always said I was the apple of his eye, but now he has a lady friend who takes all his attention. I’m sure one of these days he won’t even remember my phone number. And as for you, you’re so busy you don’t even know that I exist!”

“That’s not fair, Evie,” Ann answered, but she knew the accusations held a modicum of truth. Although she had in fact called Evie, she still defended herself. “You know, I’ve always tried to do my best for you, Evie. I wasn’t working just for myself.”

“Oh, I know how noble you’ve been. But the fact is that I have no mother, no father, and no home.”

“You still have a home, Evie.”

“Last week when we talked, you said that you were thinking about putting the house up for sale.”

There was a bitter taste in Ann’s mouth as she heard the hurt and betrayal in her daughter’s voice. “Look, Evie, I don’t blame you for being upset. We’ll have to see about the house. But I want you to understand something. Your father and I didn’t mean to deceive you. We never did argue much. You know that. Perhaps that was part of the problem. Anyway, we both still love you—it’s just that our relationship to each other has changed. We can still be a family, Evie, if we try to be a little more understanding.”

Evie laughed. “Sure. A family—plus one.”

“Evie, please! You’re a woman now and it’s time for you to grow up.” Ann suddenly realized that she was talking to herself as well. “When you fall in love, your father and I will try and respect your choice. Your father has found someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Be happy for him, Evie, just as we’ll be happy for you.”