Three Rivers (53 page)

Notes were duly written to the remaining family members and sent to them at addresses found in Kate’s address book, except for cousin Natalie, whom Isabel planned to go and see. The notes were composed by the secretary, giving the details of Kate’s death and a box number where they could write if they had any further questions. They were signed by the secretary for Isabel, as she had not been in touch with the family for well over twenty years, and after great thought she decided that a death was no reason to start now.

At long last it was over. Isabel had buried her ghosts.

XV

The wind was pushing the rain with such force that it all but blasted the windows of the little glass turret where Isable sat looking out over New York and the cold, wet December day.

Warm, cosy, well protected, she liked looking out at the storm and the sparkling lights in all the millions of windows. It was only four in the afternoon but dark. It was exciting because it was the dark of bad weather, not the dark of night. At any time it could stop, just the right gust of wind and the day would be back.

Isabel was sitting with her feet up on the brightly colored banquette, one side of her body pressed tight against the cold window. There were moments when she could feel the pressure of the rain as it hit the glass. She had pad and pencil and was making notes for her new novel.

She did not hear the doorbell, or Gamal let Alexis in. He called to her and when he found her, he kissed her hello and told her to stay where she was, he was wet through to his bones and would take a hot shower and return to her shortly.

When he did return, he was in his camel-hair galabia, smelling of some wonderful men’s soap, looking handsome and happy. Behind him trailed Gamal with a tea tray which he put down on the table in the center of the glass turret.

“I love finding you here like this,” Alexis said. “I adore it when I see you working on one of your books, all calm, warm, comfortable. I like having you all protected here in your little glass cage. I am mad for you, you know.”

She made room for him close to her on the banquette, as he went on. “I have just come from a meeting where I sat with England’s prime minister and an Arab king. I listened to them as they went on and on, and suddenly I
thought of you and wanted you. They were being so foolish and boring and completely on the wrong track, and there I was, thinking of you. That you are mine and you were home here, waiting for me.”

“Oh, Alexis, I always want to be with you.” She kissed him, and his arms went around her, and then his hands moved to her breasts. She kissed him again and then said, “What finally happened?”

He poured two cups of tea and handed one to Isabel. “Well, they could not even get a dialogue together, never mind a solution, because there is a basic lack of understanding of the problems. The issues are very great, indeed, and not defined in a simple and clear manner. They want me to step in and negotiate for them and to help assemble the other Arab leaders involved. If I will help them, they are sure that they can solve this present crisis before it flares up into what could be a potentially very dangerous situation.”

“And will you?”

“I told them that I would think about it. That I would let them know.” He took Isabel in his arms again and unbuttoned the opening of her galabia.

She stopped him and said, “I love you, and I want to
make
love to you, right now.”

She lifted his galabia, slipped down off the banquette onto her knees, and took him in her mouth. She made love to him while the wind and rain beat against the windows.

When it was over, he helped her up off her knees and walked her over to the sofa, where he removed her galabia. He laid her down, putting cushions under her head and shoulders so that she was comfortable and could watch him as he put his head between her legs and made love to her.

They drank from each other that afternoon and then lay on the floor in front of the open fire in each other’s arms. The soft cushions were tucked under their heads, and the Patagonian-fox car rug that usually lay draped on one end of the sofa covered them. Underneath it they were naked and together.

Alexis lay there relaxed and completely content. Isabel leaned on her elbow and looked at him while they talked about their lives together.

His eyes were closed. She whispered, “Alexis?”

“Mmmmm.”

“Alexis, you know that if you want to take on this job, I can do my work anywhere we go. It does not have to be New York, or London. I can make a life working and waiting for you anywhere that you are. I only need a suitcase of books, some paper, and I will be happy. Very happy, if I can be part of your life.”

Alexis’s eyes were open now, and he gazed at Isabel as she went on, “I am not blind, darling. I have seen the cables from all over the world congratulating you on your new happiness in taking a wife. There has not been one head of state who has not sent a message. Whatever you want to do, I am coming with you. I am ready to get on with our life together, and all that it has in store for us.”

Alexis said nothing. He just stroked her hair and listened to her.

“If you have the time,” Isabel continued, “there is something I would like to do. It would be very nice for me if we could go to Massachusetts for a few days. I would like to show you some of the beautiful places that I loved when I was young and that have influenced my life. I would like to walk along a deserted beach with you on the Cape; I’d like to show you the New England of my youth. I’d like to see it again myself, and maybe then I will be able to leave America, remembering it only for the beautiful and good things that it gave me. It would be so nice to leave those places again just because I wanted to go and not because I was running away. Do you think we might have time to do it? Would you like that?”

“I would like that very much. I think it is a really wonderful idea,” Alexis said softly.

“I would only like to see one person. My cousin Natalie, for a lunch. She lives in a wonderfully small town. You see, darling, I always wanted to go back. I loved Massachusetts. I loved New England. The leaves and the colors in the fall and the snow in the winter. I loved to swim in the Atlantic Ocean in the summer. I liked the people. Oh, Alexis! If we go, I would only need one day here after our return to gather books and do a little shopping. Then I will be ready to leave for the most remote part of the world, or the Sharia el Nil house, or aboard the
Mamounia
. We can do whatever you want to do. I want to be part of your life and back you up as you have backed me up. You are a delicious, wonderful man, very
special, and I love you, and I want to help you and add to your life always.”

Alexis removed the fox robe and she saw that he was very hard and very big. He opened her legs, and he very gently and slowly pushed himself high up inside her. They made love for a long time and slowly. Just before he was ready to come, he managed to pull her tightly to his chest, and while he was still deep inside her he said, “Tomorrow morning we will buy a map, plan a wonderful tour of your New England and leave after lunch.” Then he laid her down on the cushions and came into her. He did not withdraw, but stayed inside her, and they lay together there on their sides, facing each other. He reached down and pulled the Patagonian fox up and over them.

“With you all life begins,” he whispered. “Every time I am with you, all life begins.”

They lay there not talking any more but just looking at each other and feeling their skins touching under the cover.

Some time later there was a knock at the door. Alexis checked that all was decent and then told Gamal to come in. The servant spoke to him in Arabic as he went around picking up the galabias and handing them to Alexis and Isabel. Alexis’s secretary wanted to come in to have a word: He was holding a call from Egypt’s president.

Gamal brought the telephone and put it on the floor next to Alexis. The two remained where they were, stretched out in front of the fire.

Isabel started to pull away from Alexis, who stretched his arm out and pulled her back close to him. They smiled at each other and he told Gamal to bring his secretary in.

There was a great deal of talk in Arabic between the two men, and finally Alexis held his hand up for the secretary to be silent. He turned to Isabel and said, “He has called for three reasons. To congratulate us, to say he wants to hold a reception in our honor upon our return and to ask me to please help them, having had a call from the king that I met this afternoon. Shall we say ten days from now, in Baghdad?”

Isabel kissed him and said, “Ten days from now in Baghdad.”

They both turned at the same time when they heard a sigh of relief from Alexis’s secretary. The three of them
smiled. Sir Alexis picked up the telephone and spoke to the president of his country.

The seaplane’s motors were being revved up when Isabel and Alexis hurried down to board the plane. The captain saw them, cut the motors and went through to meet them. He stepped out onto the landing, shook hands with Alexis, was introduced to Isabel, and the three boarded the plane and sat down. The co-pilot came out to join them around a table in the main cabin. Then they went over the maps that Alexis and Isabel had worked on that morning.

Since the plane was a twelve-seater, and there were only two people traveling, the main cabin had been rearranged. Some of the chairs had been removed and a table set up for their comfort.

The co-pilot asked after their luggage, and both very proudly told him that all they had was the one small Louis Vuitton duffle bag, which he promptly stowed away. He brought coffee for the four of them and they went over the route together.

The two men went forward and started revving the motors again. They needed a good deal of power to charge up the East River, clear the Fifty-ninth Street Bridge and get airborne.

Isabel stood up to take her jacket off, and Alexis moved his hand over her buttock.

She turned around. He looked at her and said, “The moment that I saw that suit in the window, I knew it was for you.” He had bought it for her that morning, having seen it on the way home from the map shop.

The mocha-colored suede trousers fit tightly over her behind, cut like men’s, with a fly front. The suede was so fine and soft that the trousers hung like the best gabardine. With this was a beige silk blouse with balloon sleeves tight to the wrist and an open collar like a man’s shirt, with small mother-of-pearl buttons. A suede vest that matched reached just below the waist. The jacket had sleeves and a waistband of thick, chocolate-brown, knitted wool. A hidden zip fastener did up the front. It had no collar, but a knitted wool scarf went with it. The main body of the jacket was a mocha-colored, natural ranch mink. She wore shiny, dark brown leather cowboy boots which went high up on her legs under the trousers.

She wore her hair loose and casual, as she always did,
and antique gold hoops in her ears. Her gold bangles were on her arm and her diamonds on her fingers. She looked stunning.

“You spoil me, you know, and I love it.” Isabel laughed. “I love every single minute of it.” She sat on his lap and kissed him. He pinched her and told her to go and buckle herself into the seat.

The pilot announced over the intercom that they were ready to take off. The seaplane shimmied and shook until Isabel thought that it was going to break in two before it charged up the East River. It was terrifically exciting, masses of water spraying the plane everywhere, so much so that one could hardly see out of the windows. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, she felt them lift off the river, climb and they were away.

They were so far up the East River now that they circled over Yankee Stadium, then followed the river back down to the Battery and saw it empty into the upper New York Bay. Now they struck out over Coney Island and Rockaway Beach Park towards Fire Island.

Isabel was delighted and very happy to be out of New York City. With the map spread out in front of them and the real thing not far below them, Isabel told Alexis all about Fire Island. For Isabel, it was still one of the best stretches of beach in the world, and she was really happy to see it.

Isabel tried to explain how crazy life was there during the season, and how wonderful it was off season. Alexis laughed at her descriptions and thought it looked a magnificent piece of beach. He was surprised at how closely people lived together.

He liked Southampton and East Hampton even more. She pointed out Montauk Point, and then told him how much fun it was for her to show him all this and how brilliant he was to think of going by seaplane.

When they flew over Block Island and Fishers Island, she told him all about her summers spent on the Connecticut shore. New London, Old Lyme, Old Saybrook. She told him about how summer life changed along the coast.

From Block Island they struck out for Martha’s Vineyard and Edgartown, where they would spend their first night. Isabel regaled Alexis with stories of what it was to live a summer life in New England. She told him about being a teenager and lying on the beach from seven in the
morning until seven in the evening, sunning and swimming, and knitting argyle socks for her boyfriend because that was the fad that year.

She told him about the other things, as her mind drifted back. The summer playhouses dotting the coast, the open-air concerts and the dance festivals. Then there was the summer food, the clams, oysters, lobsters and crabs; the fish chowders and the flounder and haddock and cod.

She told how she loved the sand dunes, and the shells along the beach, and the driftwood after a storm. Then there was the ocean glass: old pieces of bottles washed smooth and into strange shapes by the ocean. There were the clumps of high, dried-out grass that grew out on the sand dunes in patches, the blankets, and the smell of the baby oil and hot sand. Isabel had not remembered those things for years.

They circled over Martha’s Vineyard, and it was almost dark when they checked into the Harborside Inn. It had changed little in the twenty years since she had stayed there. It was the same wooden whaling captains’ houses linked together, and there were open fires, and the smell of burning hickory wood and beeswax furniture polish. The rag rugs on the floor and the antique New England furniture were a delight to see after so many years.

Their room was large and beautiful and overlooked the harbor. There was a great, deep, four-poster bed, draped in crisp, white cotton eyelet with a ruffle of the same material around the canopy. There was a patchwork quilt in the pattern known as “wedding ring” for the bedcover. There was a rocking chair, an antique cradle, chests of drawers and flower chintz curtains. It was a grand, elegant, old New England room.