Always and Forever (46 page)

On Sunday morning Kathy awoke to the sound of rain on the windowpanes. While she dressed, she became aware of the aroma of fresh bread baking in the oven. Rhoda must have been up early. With a sense of anticipation she dressed and hurried out to the kitchen. Birch logs crackled in the fireplace grate.

“I’ve put up biscuits,” Rhoda told her. “Frank adores waking up to the smell of bread baking in the oven. David started the fire,” she said. “He went for a walk in the rain.”

Within twenty minutes the kitchen radiated high spirits. David had returned from his walk and changed into dry clothes. Frank had awakened, dressed, and was stoking the fire. Rhoda had brought out a platter of country-style biscuits and was preparing to serve what she called her “empty the refrigerator” omelets.

Table conversation veered from nostalgic memories of less-appealing breakfasts in Hamburg to Frank’s sobering recall of McCarthyism.

“It was a harrowing time for Rhoda and me. Thank God, it’s over.”

“We didn’t shed a tear when Joe McCarthy died,” Rhoda said, her eyes flashing with revived anger.

This was the moment to let David know what Phil had done to Rhoda and Frank, yet Kathy hedged. It would sound as though she were trying to absolve herself of blame for their failed marriage. She understood that Frank was saying nothing of this out of respect for her. But she was afraid to tell David that Phil had turned them in to the red-baiters. She knew his closeness to the Kohns—what he considered all that remained of his family. She couldn’t risk antagonizing him.

Later in the afternoon the men carried the luggage out to the car for the return trip to the city. Kathy and Rhoda made the routine check of windows and faucets and electric range. All the while Kathy was conscious of the questions in Rhoda’s eyes.

“Rhoda, stop looking like that,” she exhorted. “Nothing’s going to happen between David and me.”

“Kathy, I see the way he looks at you—”

“He doesn’t want a woman in his life,” she said painfully. “It’s too late for us. The right time was in Hamburg, and I muffed that. It’ll never happen again.”

I
N SEPTEMBER KATHY WAS
caught up in the madness of moving from the Croton house into the huge, sprawling West End Avenue apartment. She was grateful for Lee’s efficiency in handling much of this. She was relieved that Jesse liked his new school, the new apartment, and especially their closeness to the Hudson River and the yacht basin. She tried—futilely—to push all thoughts of David out of her mind.

Rhoda was in the process of tracking down a teaching job in Manhattan, to begin with the February term. When at the end of the month word came through that the job was hers, she and Frank began to worry about the availability of an apartment on the Upper West Side. Both Kathy and Marge offered to put them up until they could locate something.

Marge scheduled a small dinner party to celebrate Rhoda’s new job and insisted that Rhoda invite David and Brian, now in New York again and working with Frank and Rhoda on fund-raising for their animal rights group.

“Call it a Hamburg reunion,” Marge flipped. “I may not have been there with you, but I feel as though I was.”

“Marge, I know what you’re doing,” Kathy said bluntly over luncheon with her and Rhoda on the day Rhoda came into New York to sign her job contract. “David’s all wrapped up in his work. That’s the way he wants it. There’s no room in his life for me.”

“For a woman who can be so aggressive in business,” Rhoda sighed, “you give up awful fast when it comes to a man.”

“Invite him for dinner,” Kathy agreed, “but remember, we’re only long-time friends. He’s over forty and set in his ways; he feels his job can satisfy all his needs. I’m not throwing myself at his feet.”

Dressing for Marge’s dinner party, Kathy changed three times before she reluctantly conceded this wasn’t a fashion show. A dinner with old friends. She was eager to see Brian, who drifted in and out of their lives at three or four-year intervals. Hamburg had drawn them together forever.

The last to arrive at Marge’s new penthouse co-op—also on what she good-humoredly called the unfashionable Upper West Side—Kathy was swept up in the convivial mood that permeated the group. Marge’s cook-maid had prepared a superb dinner. The conversation jumped from topic to topic in the manner Kathy enjoyed. And as before she often glanced up to find David’s eyes dwelling on her.

When at last they decided to call it an evening, David offered to see her home, a few blocks distant. Rather than bother with a taxi, they walked. The night was crisp and cool, with a hint of autumn already in the air. Yet despite a beautiful closeness between them, Kathy was conscious of that same invisible wall.

“Would you like to come up for coffee or a drink?” she asked when he walked her past the doorman to the elevators.

“I know tomorrow is Saturday, but I have to go in to the office,” he said regretfully.

“I’ll be at my office, too. We’re two workhorses, David,” she laughed.

“It’s been a great evening.”

Why did he look at her like that, and yet keep her at a distance?

“We must do it again soon,” she said casually.

He kissed her lightly on the cheek and waited for her to enter the just-descended elevator.

On a mid-October weekend—with Jesse en route in the Kohn limousine for Greenwich—Kathy decided on impulse to drive to the house in Montauk. She was tired and tense and frustrated at the futile encounters with David. She’d leave right away, come back tomorrow night, she plotted.

Within thirty minutes she was at the garage and waiting for her Mercedes to be brought down from an upper level. She drove a Mercedes because of Marge.
“Darling, you have to drive a Mercedes to keep up your image of the ‘successful career woman.’
”

When Phil returned from the Virgin Islands and she knew they were divorced, she had been euphoric. For a little while. She should be so happy, she rebuked herself. She was free of Phil and Jesse was legally in her sole custody. The business was fantastic. She shouldn’t need any more than that. Life wasn’t meant to be perfect.

When she had driven past the endless miles of cemeteries in nearby Queens, she began to notice the splendor of the scenery—the trees a glorious medley of dark red, brown, and golden leaves. It would be a beautiful weekend out at Montauk, she thought, and all at once her heart was pounding as she envisioned sharing this with David.

Give them one more chance, Kathy told herself, exulting in this decision. She pulled off at the next gas station with a public telephone, called David. There was no response at his home phone, but she caught him at the office.

“I know it’s a last-minute call, but it’s so marvelous up here. I thought you might enjoy getting away from the city. There’s a train at—”

“I’ll drive up,” he said quickly. “I went to hell with myself and bought a car ten days ago. Just give me directions.”

He expected Jesse and Lee to be at the Montauk house with her, she realized. She’d explain that Jesse was with Bella and Lee was spending the weekend with her sister. She was being brazen, yes, but at thirty-five she could afford to be, she thought with shaky bravado.
She was giving them one last chance.

She stopped along the way to shop for food, watching the clock because instinct told her David would waste little time getting on the road. Her mind was alternately assaulted by hopes and doubts. Would she drive David away forever when he understood she had deliberately arranged a weekend alone with him?

When she pulled into the garage at the Montauk house, she was conscious of the familiar magic. The ocean was choppy beneath a magnificent October sun—seeming to match her own chaotic emotions. The stretch of beach before the house was deserted except for a cluster of seagulls. The houses on either side—gratifyingly distant from her own—were unoccupied this weekend.

She hurried about the house, opening up windows, putting up a pot of coffee, debating about their luncheon menu. Belatedly—out of cowardice, she admitted to herself—she concocted a story to tell David. Rhoda and Frank were supposed to drive up, too, but she arrived at the house to hear that they were having trouble with the car and couldn’t make it.

She set a table on the deck for luncheon, though the wind made it necessary to anchor napkins beneath the plates. She relished the quiet, unbroken except for the sound of the ocean.

She felt a surge of excitement as she heard a car turn into the driveway. She went onto the deck to welcome David.

“Hi!” She stood in the sunlight with the wind blowing her hair about her face and reveled in the pleasure she saw in his eyes. “Was I wrong about the day?”

“It’s magnificent,” he agreed, running up the steps to the deck. “I’m so glad you called me.”

“Rhoda and Frank had to turn back on the road—some trouble with the car,” she lied.

“That’s rough luck—” But for a revealing instant she saw the glint of excitement in his eyes.

“You’re probably starving. I have lunch ready. Let’s have it on the deck.” As always when she was nervous, she was talking too fast.

“The coffee smells marvelous. Remember the garbage we usually drank in Hamburg?”

“Remember the coffee in Berlin?” She laughed shakily. It was almost as though they were there this moment. “At the Hotel Adlon?”

“I’ve thought about that day so many times,” he said quietly.

They sat down to lunch on the deck. Kathy was confident that before this day was over David would make love to her. He was fighting against it, out of his absurd sense of loyalty to the family.
Because the man he called “Uncle Julius” would not approve.
But what they felt—and the circumstances—would break down that wall between them, she promised herself.

After a leisurely lunch they walked on the beach.

“I’ll bet the water’s warm,” Kathy said and impulsively reached down to untie her sneakers and kick them off. “Shall we wade?” she challenged him.

“How can we not?” he laughed, caught up in her mood.

The day sped past. There was no question of going out for dinner. While Kathy prepared small miracles with pasta, a marinara sauce, and a tossed salad, and garlic bread was warming in the oven, David was absorbed in coaxing a blaze into being in the kitchen fireplace. There was a tacit understanding in their minds that this weekend belonged to them.

They ate before the fireplace, caught up in memories of the early weeks in Hamburg, before Phil had arrived. Kathy was aware of David’s nearness, waiting for him to reach out and pull her into his arms. It was as though he were slowly building up his resolve to do this.

Together they cleared away the dishes, loaded them into the dishwasher. They stood face to face while the hum of the dishwasher blended with the sound of the rough waves crashing against the shore.

“I have to keep reminding myself that you were Phil’s wife,” he said unevenly, but his hands were at her waist.

“Were,
David,” she emphasized. “That’s behind us now.”

“Oh, Kathy, how can we deny ourselves at a moment like this?” he whispered.

“We don’t, David. We don’t,” she said urgently.

Her arms closed in about him as he drew her close and brought his mouth down to hers.

“This is so wrong,” he said painfully when their mouths parted at last.

“David, how can it be wrong?” she protested. “It’s what we both want.”

He lifted her off her feet and carried her into her bedroom. Outside the brisk wind was increasing to storm proportions. The sun had retreated behind darkening clouds. While the elements roared into a Wagnerian crescendo, Kathy and David abandoned themselves to emotions long kept imprisoned.

“Oh, Kathy, Kathy—”

They left the bed to watch the storm over the ocean, and then made love again. It would be a night she would forever remember, Kathy thought, no matter how many nights they had together in the years ahead.

She awoke in the morning and was immediately aware that David was not beside her. In childlike alarm she thrust aside the comforter and left the bed. She paused, a smile lighting her face. David was making coffee in the kitchen. She slid her feet into slippers and reached for a robe.

Last night’s storm had subsided. Sunlight poured into the house. She walked down the hall and into the kitchen. David looked up with a brilliant smile.

“We’ll have coffee, walk on the beach, then I’ll make breakfast for us.” His eyes were tender, yet she sensed he was troubled.

“I’ll go dress,” she said.
Why did David look like that?

They walked on the beach with mutual joy, and: returned to the house for breakfast. Yet she knew instinctively that deep within himself David was unhappy. He couldn’t be upset because she had once been Phil’s wife? That was another lifetime.
Phil was married again.

Not until after breakfast, while they lounged on chaises on the deck, did David tell her what was troubling him. It was as she had suspected.

“How can I explain to Uncle Julius and Aunt Bella about my feelings for you?” he asked in quiet torment.

“You don’t
have
to explain.” She struggled to remain calm.

“In the eyes of the family I’m siding with you against Phil. To them this is wrong. And Uncle Julius has been so good to me.”

“Oh David, wake up!” Her voice was involuntarily harsh. “Julius Kohn is a monster.”

“Kathy, don’t say that,” he rejected. Shocked by her outburst. “He and Aunt Bella took me in when I had to run from the Nazis. They—”

“Julius Kohn swindled you out of a fortune!” Kathy’s longtime rage erupted. “He’s never done anything for anyone except himself. He—”

“Kathy, you can’t say that about Uncle Julius!” David stared at her as though he had never seen her before. “He took me into his home when my parents sent me out of Germany. Without him I would never have gotten through college and medical school.”

“David, how can you be so blind?” Kathy fought against exasperation. “You owe him nothing. You—”

“Uncle Julius and Aunt Bella are my family—all that remains of generations of Kohns.
I owe them my life.”