While the Fire Rages (30 page)

Marsha! Jo froze. Marsha was leaving the firm? At first the news thrilled Jo. Then the thrill was chased by apprehension. Why was Marsha leaving? And why hadn’t Jo known about it? Had Brett deliberately kept the information from her for reasons of his own? Jo could think of only one reason Brett would have for keeping silent, and that reason did not bear thinking about. Pushing a sudden, explicit image of Brett and Marsha together in much the same way Jo and he were now, Jo made a production out of finding the last, tiniest crumb.

“Why is Marsha quitting?” Jo directed her question at the smooth sheet.

Brett hesitated for seconds that were pure agony for Jo. “Well,” he began slowly, “I know all she’d say was her reason was persona] but—” Again he hesitated, drawing Jo’s nerves to quivering tautness. “What the hell, you are not only my assistant but my wife. Marsha’s going to follow her husband.”

Jo could not have been more stunned if Brett had told her Marsha was going to have a sex-change operation! Added to Jo’s bafflement at Brett’s seeming assumption that she’d known of Marsha’s intention to leave the company, Brett’s revelation of a heretofore unheard of husband left Jo totally speechless. Had she been beating her emotions to death since December for nothing? Had there ever been anything personal between Brett and Marsha? And does being in love make jackasses of everybody? This last consideration jolted Jo out of contemplation and into speech.

“Brett, let’s clarify a few details here.” Jo’s voice contained a harsh undertone. She was fed up. She never had liked playing games, and this love game was starting to get to her. As Jo had never particularly liked mysteries either, she wasn’t about to tolerate Marsha’s. “Detail one,” she said flatly. “I knew nothing about Marsha’s resignation. Detail two: I knew nothing about a husband.”

“Former husband,” Brett inserted.

“Former or otherwise,” Jo bit angrily. “Which brings about detail three: I was under the impression that you and she had indulged in a flaming affair last October in Vermont.” Sitting up straight, Jo stared Brett directly in the eyes, defying him to deny an alliance with Marsha. When Brett didn’t respond immediately, Jo added, “And what the hell do you mean, former husband? If they are no longer married, why is she leaving an excellent job to follow him?”

“Are you finished?” Brett asked softly. “Or are there more details on your list?”

“I’m finished.” And very likely in more ways than one, she added silently. But, good grief, how long could she go on living with this silliness? Jo demanded of herself. Sex, in itself, was not a panacea, the be-all and end-all of any relationship ... let alone marriage! There had to be more or, if there was not, then her mother was right!

“Detail one.” Brett’s quietly controlled voice intruded on Jo’s introspection and riveted her attention. “I honestly believed you did know of Marsha’s resignation. She tendered it this past Monday.” He regarded her steadily. “I thought I’d mentioned it before I left for the mountains. I’m sorry, but I was rushed. Okay?”

Jo let a nod suffice for reply. If he was on a roll, she certainly wasn’t going to call a halt now.

“Detail number two is a little more involved. Marsha has been unhappily divorced for over a year. The marriage fell apart because Marsha, admittedly, neglected it in favor of her career.” Brett shrugged. “Apparently, like most men, Marsha’s husband labored under the illusion that he should come first. When he discovered he didn’t, he sought comfort elsewhere.”

“How delightful!” Jo exclaimed. “He sounds like a real charmer. And Marsha is going to repress her ambition to chase
him?”
Incensed at the very idea of what Marsha was doing, Jo momentarily forgot how relieved she’d felt on hearing of the woman’s intentions mere moments ago.

She was angry, really angry, and yet she was trembling with excitement. She was actually loving every minute of this argument! Geared for mental battle, Jo missed the significance of her enjoyment, and that was that the lines of communication were wide open!

“Jo!” Brett shouted in exasperation. “Marsha loves the man. She has been miserable for over a year! But she has decided to meet him halfway ... no more. Can you honestly sit there and insist she’s wrong?”

“Brett, how can you insist she is only meeting him halfway?” Jo argued heatedly. “She’s giving up her job. She’s going to him. What, exactly, is
he
doing? No! Don’t tell me, I know.
He
is waiting for her to come to her senses! Right?”

“I don’t believe this! I positively do not believe this.” Brett glanced around the room as if seeking guidance. “We are actually fighting over another couple’s marital problems!”

“Yes,” Jo responded impulsively. “Isn’t it fun?”

Brett grinned then sobered almost at once. “It would be, if we didn’t have a few problems of our own.” Brett met Jo’s glance and held it. “There was no affair in October.” He hesitated, then went on determinedly, “But not for lack of trying on my part.”

Jo sat perfectly still, staring at him, while her conscience went to work on her. She longed to dissect his last statement, but did she have the right? No, she did not, her conscience advised. In actual fact, she’d had no right to ask him about October in the first place. Obviously Brett had assumed she’d pounce on his admission.

“No questions?” he probed, a strange note of disappointment edging his voice. “Aren’t you curious ... at all?”

Jo sighed. “Yes, I’m curious. But it really is none of my business. Is it?” After the effervescence of their argument, Jo felt flat “What you did, and who you did it with, before we married, is, in fact, none of my business.” Jo broke the hold his eyes attempted to maintain.

“And so, of course, I have no right to ask you about your previous affair.” Brett’s tone had a corresponding flatness, tinged with accusation.

So he did know about Gary! Jo raised her eyes to encounter a blank wall. Brett had withdrawn. The lines of communication had snapped. Following Brett’s example, Jo mentally withdrew.

“Not in that manner.” Jo was amazed at the distant sound of her own voice.

“It doesn’t matter.” Brett’s shrug had the impact of a blow to Jo’s heart

He doesn’t really want to know, because he really doesn’t care!
The thought froze Jo’s mind. Moving carefully, as if afraid she’d shatter into a million shards of ice if she hurried, Jo slid off the bed and walked into the bathroom, thinking: The learning process is now over.

Chapter 11

Brett sat behind his brother’s desk, staring fixedly at his computer screen. It had been a very long three weeks since he and Jo had reached dead end the night he’d returned from Pennsylvania.

Why hadn’t they been able to break free of constraint since then? Brett was afraid he knew the answer and simply didn’t want to face it.
Damn it, if she loved me...
The desk chair was shoved back roughly as Brett jerked to his feet.

Stalking to the window, Brett scowled down at the miniature people scurrying about their business twenty-six stories below.

If she loved me.

Brett was relieved at the intrusive noise of the buzzer on the telephone. Swinging back to the desk, he scooped up the receiver. “Mrs. Renninger on line two.” Brett’s distraction was evidenced by his subdued greeting to his mother. He forgot to call her sir.

“Yes, Mother?” he queried.

“Are you feeling all right?” Violet demanded in concern.

Brett frowned. “Yes, of course. Why?”

“If you have to ask, I must be working you too hard,” Violet answered. Then, without warning, she sprang her news on him. “Wolf has been declared fit to go back to work. He has decided to remain at the farm until after Easter. That gives you a week and a half to clear up whatever you’re on at the moment and re-gear your mind for Atlanta. You can bring him up to date when you and JoAnne come down for the holiday. You
were
planning to come down for Easter, weren’t you?”

Brett was in no mood for pretense. “I really hadn’t thought about it,” he admitted starkly.

“And now you don’t have to,” she shot back at him. “It’s family conclave time, Brett. I’m considering another branch on the Renninger’s company tree. Wolf needs to be brought up to date. And you sound like you need a rest. When will you and JoAnne arrive?”

Brett couldn’t deny the smile that curved his tight lips. “What rank did you carry in the marines?” As the question was moot, he went on through her laughter, “We’ll fly down sometime during Holy Week.  I cannot be more definitive at this point. Okay?”

“I guess it will have to be.” Violet sighed. “Sometimes I think I trained my sons too well. Give my love to JoAnne, Brett”

Give my love to JoAnne. The phrase revolved in Brett’s head long after he’d replaced the receiver.

I want to give my love to JoAnne.

Does JoAnne still love my brother?

Did JoAnne ever love my brother?

Does JoAnne know how to love?

They had come so close that night, so very close to a breakthrough, to a meeting of the minds as well as of the flesh. Brett swallowed the bitter taste of defeat coated with self-destructive jealousy. Both emotions were unfamiliar and unacceptable to him. Brett knew he would have to do something to rectify the situation, and soon. The question was what?

I hate this!

The silent cry came from the soul. There was nothing new or unique about the protest. Brett had been living with it now for what seemed like most of his life. Stalemate. To Brett, the marriage was in a position of stalemate. So what do you do? he taxed himself. Write it off? Brett refused to as much as consider calling it quits without a fight.

What had gone wrong? Brett’s lips curved wryly. What had ever been right about it... other than the purely physical? Then again, there had been some moments, times when he and Jo had been in smooth accord. Those times had been a lure, a teaser, promising a rich relationship if they could bridge the gap.

That was what had been so exciting for a little while the night he’d come home from the Poconos. Brett could still feel the tremor of expectation that had shivered through him that night. For a brief, breathless moment, he had allowed himself to believe Jo was beginning to care for him. Jo had talked more openly than ever before.  She had even revealed signs of resentment for Marsha. For an instant, Brett had actually convinced himself Jo’s resentment was caused by jealousy. Euphoric, Brett had felt the time right to mention Jo’s affair with Wolf. Jo’s sudden, chilly silence had said more than any lengthy explanation. Jo had stopped talking and, during these interminable three weeks, had conversed on a surface level. It was only after they were in bed that Jo displayed animation.

Brett felt his body harden in reaction to a flashing image of Jo, her breathing shallow, her lips parted, writhing and moaning beneath him. Their physical union was as close as Brett had ever hoped to get to perfect. The strange thing was, his desire appeared to be feeding itself. The more Brett had of Jo, the more he wanted her! Satiation was transient. Hunger was self-renewing. Need. Need. Need.

Turning abruptly, Brett strode back to his desk. He didn’t have time to indulge in wishful thinking. His movements purposeful, Brett drew a pile of reports to the center of the desk. After reading the first sheet of paper contained in the first report for the second time, he closed the folder and pushed the pile away again. Resting his head against the chair’s high back, Brett stared sightless at the large photograph of the first Renninger-built condominium on the wall opposite his desk.

His concentration was a thing of the past. Perhaps his mother was right and he did need a rest. Brett’s smile was both bitter and derisive. He certainly didn’t expect to get much rest at the farm! Not if he had to play the role of watchdog around Jo and Wolf. At the thought, Brett went rigid in the well-padded chair.

Is this what being in love had brought him to? Brett shuddered at the idea of himself sniffing at the heels of his wife and brother.

God damn it! No!
He’d see them both in hell first! She was not worth it. No woman alive was worth it!
Damn Wolf! Damn Jo! And damn my own love for her! If, when Wolf is once again in residence behind this desk, they still want each other, I’ll go back to Atlanta alone! I can live without her!

But, oh God, I love her!

A short distance down a wide, plushly carpeted hall, Jo sat in a similar, if smaller office, at a similar, if smaller desk, coming to a similar, if softer decision. Jo had not damned Wolf. Jo had not damned Brett. Jo had not even damned herself. Jo had reached the same conclusion as Brett. She would remain in New York when Brett went back to Atlanta.

The relationship they had so very suddenly dived into was crumbling with equal swiftness. How long could she go on living with a stranger? Jo had grown weary with the repetition of the question. How long could she bear coexistence with a man who was always polite, most times even pleasant, a searing flame in bed, but a stranger nonetheless?

Was it worth it? Jo lowered long lashes over eyes stinging with hot moisture. Another failure. Was she to go through life drifting in and out of affairs? Successful in her chosen career, ineffectual in any personal relationship? Or was her mother right after all? Was it all a hoax, a shimmering facade—this idea, or ideal, of a real, lasting love between a man and a woman?

Rebellion stirred deep inside Jo. If the whole concept of love was nothing more than a myth, then what was the purpose of life? Without the humanizing presence of love, romantic love, humans would be reduced to the lowest level, and life itself would become a barren waste. Every atom of intelligence Jo possessed rejected the cold precept. Her mother was wrong! She
had
to be wrong! Jo refused to view life as a grinding ordeal, or humans as automatons, untouched or unsoftened by the gentle kiss of love.

Why can’t Brett love me?

Shivering, Jo opened her eyes to stare at the plain, narrow gold band on her left ring finger. Jo wanted to live to be a very old lady and still be wearing that gold band when she closed her eyes for the last time. But without Brett’s love, the ring was valueless.