The Last Princess (35 page)

Dinner was a masterpiece. Lily had been a little apprehensive, lest her long absence from the kitchen would be evident, but as course succeeded course, she forgot everything except the sheer pleasure of Ellis’s company. In the most unobtrusive way, he always made her feel like the most charming woman in the world.

“Lily, the PR has been incredible on the ball. Already the press has been trumpeting what a fabulous job you’re doing as chairman. Now that I’m here, you’ll have to tell me the truth—how did you persuade Benny Goodman to do it?”

“Bribery,” she answered with a straight face.

He laughed. “I’m sure that Benny took one look at you and agreed, with no bribe needed.”

“Seriously, Ellis, the committee has been tremendous. They’ve done most of the work.”

How like her to be so modest, he thought. Joan Lawrence had privately confided to him that Lily was the most effective chairman they had ever had. The Goodhue and Kohle names helped, of course, but Lily’s particular magic was in being able to mediate between all the various egos involved. In a group of strong-minded women, she somehow had a way of making each one feel that her contribution was invaluable.

“It’s extraordinary, Ellis,” Joan had told him. “She gets things done, but in the most diplomatic way. No screaming or tantrums or throwing her weight around.”

Now, Lily smiled at him. “How about another piece of tart?”

As her eyes met and held his warmly, a queer pang struck him. If only Lily were his wife, and this were his table, and he could be with her every night….

Shaking his head slightly, as though to dispel the illusion, he said, “It’s wonderful, but no thanks.”

“Shall we have our coffee in the living room, then?”

“How about champagne instead?”

With a little smile she acquiesced.

After settling themselves side by side on the sofa in front of the fire, they picked up their glasses and Ellis said, “Here’s to all good things, Lily.”

Touching her glass to his, she smiled faintly.

“Well, now,” he said lightly. “Did you get me over here simply to ply me with all these good things, or for some other reason?”

“A little of both.”

“Okay then, we’ve had the good things, so now let’s get to the other reason.”

For a moment she watched the bubbles rise in her glass. Then, taking a deep breath, she began. “Ellis, the truth is that I’m in a real bind.”

He nodded judiciously. “Tell me about it.”

With a sigh she said, “I spoke to Harry last night and out of the blue, he demanded that I come over to Israel immediately. He was as adamant as could be.”

“And?”

“Well, of course I told him no, that there was no way I could get away before the ball. But I have to admit that I feel terribly torn, and tremendously guilty.”

Ellis’s mind worked furiously. He knew that Harry had broken off his affair with Valerie after Lily’s return, but he also knew, with an absolute certainty, that out there in the Middle Eastern desert, they were sleeping together again.

It was impossible to guess why Harry had suddenly demanded that Lily come—perhaps it was a momentary attack of guilty conscience—but it didn’t alter Ellis’s deep-seated conviction.

And at long last, his anger overcame his scruples. It overwhelmed any sense of loyalty he felt he owed Harry. The eager, sincere, passionately honest young man he had known years before had long since disappeared. He was lying to Lily, cheating on her, making a fool of her—and she deserved better.

The passing years had been a strange torment for Ellis as he had watched Lily forgive Harry over and over again, even when she blamed him for their son’s death, and Ellis told himself that it could be only because she still loved him. Maybe Ellis could have taken advantage of the Kohles’ troubles to drive her into his arms, but he would have been haunted by the fact she still loved Harry. Or so he had thought in the past.

But now, somehow, he felt that things were different. When people were at such constant odds with each other, what marriage could there be left to preserve? The truth was, Harry and Lily had stopped living as husband and wife long ago.

They might have fallen in love, but even almost twenty years together and four children did not alter the fact that they were utterly unsuited for one another. Harry needed a wife content to be an adoring admirer of his every move, whereas Lily longed to be adored as only he—Ellis—could adore her.

He didn’t pretend to be unselfishly motivated. Ellis loved and wanted Lily desperately, just as he always had.

He drained his glass and set it down on the coffee table and then said abruptly, “Lily, I’ve got a suggestion. Obviously you want to see Harry. Why don’t you fly over now, just for the weekend? Surprise him. The committee can spare you from the preparations for a day or two.”

“But Ellis, that’s a terribly long trip, just for a few days, isn’t it?”

“I’ll tell you how to do it: fly from here to London, stay overnight, and then go on to Tel Aviv. It’s only five hours from there and you won’t be so tired when you arrive.”

Lily started to demur. “Oh, it sounds too complicated.”

But Ellis went on. “I’ll reserve a room for you at Claridge’s, and I’ll also call Harry’s publisher there. He’s a very pleasant man—you can have dinner with him.”

“That would be lovely, but—”

“No buts. Just do it and don’t think about it.”

“Shouldn’t I even call Harry?”

“Oh no. It will be a fabulous surprise for him. You’ll see—he’ll be thrilled.”

Impulsively, she threw her arms around Ellis and hugged him tightly. “Oh, Ellis, what would I do without you? I knew that you’d have the answer!”

In spite of all his rationalizing, now that he had cast the fatal die, Ellis felt intensely guilty, knowing that he had deliberately urged Lily on a route that might lead to disaster.

The next day Lily was up bright and early. Forgotten were her uneasy parting from Harry and their awkward phone conversations. She bid Ellis good-bye at the airport and promised to call him from London.

At the airport she was met by Harry’s British publisher, who drove her to Claridge’s. Later, they went to Simpson’s in the Strand for the famous roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, but Lily was too excited to notice what she ate.

The knowledge that by this time tomorrow she would be reunited with her husband had put her in a daze. But that night in London, for however distracted she seemed, Lily was the Lily of her Paris youth; she was spontaneous and sparkling, and Harry’s publisher, a stout little man in a bowler hat, was plainly entranced by her. As he saw her onto the El Al plane the next morning, he assured her that she must visit again, with or without Harry.

Lily smiled, but her thoughts had already turned to Harry. She barely heard what the kind publisher said.

But in Rome, where the flight had been scheduled for a twenty-minute stopover, the passengers were forced to disembark and wait for over three hours. Apparently there had been another terrorist scare and the aircraft had to be searched thoroughly before they could take off.

Wearily, Lily sat alone in the bare waiting room, her spirits sagging as the hands on her watch circled slowly once, twice, three times. It would be so late by the time she got into Tel Aviv.

When they were finally cleared for takeoff, she had worked herself into a frenzy of anxiety over what awaited her in Tel Aviv. Suppose the driver Ellis had arranged for her had not waited? She would have to take a taxi to a hotel in the city, then try to make arrangements to get to Safed the next day.

But miraculously, even though it was ten at night, a young Israeli approached her as soon as she came through Customs. “Mrs. Harry Kohle? I am David. Let me take your bags.”

“How do you do? I’m sorry to be so late—the plane was delayed.”

“Don’t apologize, Mrs. Kohle. We live in a country where war and the threat of it delays many things.” He shrugged. “It is part of the life here.”

“Well, I don’t know what to do at this point. I’m supposed to go to Safed, but now perhaps I should just try to get a hotel room here and go on tomorrow.”

David shrugged. “If you like, but I am happy to drive you there now. Safed is not so very far.”

“Really? What time would we arrive?”

“Twelve-thirty, perhaps.”

Lily thought for a moment. Harry was a night owl, and she didn’t want to have to search for a hotel and unpack and waste more precious time; she had only two days.

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

“My pleasure.”

Some fifteen minutes later, they were speeding through the warm Israeli night.

Tel Aviv was nearly dark as they passed by; only a few lights were burning. Lily was overwhelmed by the millions of stars shining more beautifully than she’d ever seen. Moonlight lapped gently over the Mediterranean.

They followed the coastal road north as far as Haifa, taking the same route Harry had several days before. Lily debated on whether to stop to call Harry and let him know she was coming, but then it would be such fun to surprise him. And after all, she was almost there. If she had to wake him, what did it matter? They hadn’t seen each other for over two months. And especially in light of their last conversation, he’d be delighted by the surprise.

They wound through the hills of Safed, and then finally David announced, “It’s right along here … a mile past town, on the left.”

A minute later, they pulled to a halt in front of the sprawling stone villa. Moonlight illuminated the roses of Sharon clinging to the walls. The aroma was intoxicating. Lily thrilled at the romantic charm this place held.

The villa itself lay in darkness; plainly its occupants had gone to bed. Lily checked her watch: one o’clock. Asking David to wait with her bags, she mounted the broad stone steps and peered through the filigree of the front door. Then, with a start, she made out the form of an Arab houseboy lying on the floor in front of the door, in the manner of Oriental servants. Softly, she tapped, and a moment later a dark face peered from the door.

“Yes?”

“I am Mrs. Kohle. Could you please tell me where Mr. Kohle’s bedroom is?”

The servant stared at her so blankly, Lily thought that he must not understand English. Slowly and clearly, she enunciated, “Master Kohle—your master? Where is his room?”

The boy shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of incomprehension. Lily was sure he couldn’t speak English. She pushed the door open in exasperation and began walking toward the back of the house saying, “Master Kohle?”

Shrugging his shoulders again, the houseboy wordlessly pointed toward the staircase leading downward.

At the bottom of the flight of stairs she found the door. Ever so gently, she pushed it open, then stopped short. The room lay in shadows, but there was the silver of moonlight pouring through the French doors. It fell in a lacy pattern on the naked flesh of two bodies lying tangled among the sheets.

For a moment Lily thought that she must have the wrong room. She stepped back, about to close the door. Then she saw one of the bodies stir slightly, and the face turned just enough for her to recognize her husband. Then she saw the luxuriant chestnut hair and knew that the woman next to him was Valerie.
Valerie!

A wave of nausea overwhelmed her. She turned and ran up the stairs, passing the gawking houseboy, and stumbled out into the warm Israeli night. There she became violently ill, retching until there was nothing more to come out of her save her own soul. She slumped to her knees as the tears came flooding and sobs of anguish racked her body. How long she remained that way, she didn’t know, but gradually she grew calm again. She had to get away. Immediately. She had to escape from this terrible place where her husband had become a man she didn’t know.

Mercifully, the car was still there. Seeing her stricken face, David refrained from questioning her. When she said, “I want to go back to Tel Aviv,” he merely nodded, saying quietly, “Tel Aviv it is.”

For the entire drive, Lily sat numbly. David found her a hotel room and Lily passively allowed herself to be checked in. David phoned El Al and booked her a direct flight home at noon, then said he would pick her up at nine.

Lily smiled wanly in thanks. Then, as the door closed behind him, she sank onto the bed, burying her face in her hands. After one brief glimpse in that darkened bedroom her whole world lay shattered.

Why, Harry? Why, why, why
?

He always claimed he loved her. If that were true, how could he do this to her? Maybe their sexual relationship had not been steady since Jeremy’s death, but was that fact alone enough to justify this?

Marriages went through their bad periods—surely Harry understood that—and the time surrounding Jeremy’s death had been one of those periods. Whatever their problems, she had always trusted Harry. The only time she had ever doubted him was that one time when she had seen it in print. But then, after their wonderful “honeymoon” in New York, she had been completely reassured. It had all been malicious gossip. He would never be unfaithful to her. She was his wife, and he was a man of honor.

But nothing seemed as sure and steady as it once had. Not her marriage, not Harry, not Valerie, not even her. Suddenly it seemed her whole life had been built on fantasy. Well, she would be deluded no more. Perhaps there had been something in the Jennifer Quinn episode. Perhaps there had been others as well, over the years. A man capable of having an affair with a woman who was practically part of their household—a woman who was his own wife’s best friend—was a man without scruples. He was capable of anything.

Lily chided herself. How naive she had been! How trusting! How stupid! And what a fool Harry had made of her! Humiliation seared through her whole being, and once again she had to choke down nausea.

Lying down sleepless, fully clothed, she couldn’t bring herself to prepare for bed although she was bone-tired. It was almost four in the morning, and the hours stretched endlessly before her. It would be a long night before David would collect her to send her home.

Now, she wanted nothing more than to leave Israel as quickly as possible, to exorcise the very thought of this land from her mind forever. To her this would always be a cursed place. New York was her haven, her refuge. If only she could be there in an instant. Right now!