Blessings (16 page)

On a velvet tray, half a dozen brilliant diamonds shimmered under the chandelier’s light. All was sparkle and velvet. The exquisite shop was a velvet box, hushed and hidden from the roar of the city.

There was a minute of silence, during which Jennie was supposed to be considering the rings. Instead she was thinking again, with hands joined and sweating in her lap. If only I had told him at the start! But now, going into the second year, when he thinks he knows me … I’ve told him all about my family, my childhood, what I want out of life. I’ve opened myself, I’ve told him everything. Everything except … And he has opened himself to me. I know, because of the most secret, intimate things he has disclosed, that he has hidden nothing; if he had wanted to hide, he could have hidden them too. He has been honest with me… .

Jay looked curiously at her, thinking perhaps that she was overawed and unsure of what was expected of her.

“Look carefully, Jen,” he said. “I want you to fall in love with one of them before you say yes.”

“They’re all so beautiful. I just don’t know.”

“You have long fingers,” the salesman observed. “You would wear an emerald-cut well. Not every woman can.”

Jay held up one of the rings. “Blue-white?”

The man nodded. “Very, very fine, Mr. Wolfe.”

Jay knew about diamonds. He must have bought them for his first wife, Phyllis. A girl with no secret past. A wife for a man like him.

“Try this one on, Jennie.”

She reprimanded herself: Show some excitement, for heaven’s sake.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous, Jay. Yes, gorgeous.”

The ring slid easily onto her finger.

“Hold your hand up to the light,” said the salesman.

Every color of the rainbow met there, and yet the fire on her hand was white, as sunlight glittering on sky reflected in blue water turns all to white, to silver and white.

“Well, what do you think?” asked Jay.

It was so obviously expensive! If it were less so, maybe she would feel less like cringing.

“Don’t you think … something smaller would be better?” she asked.

“Why? You’re thinking it’s ostentatious?”

“I wasn’t. No.”

“You were. I know you. But you know me too. I wouldn’t want you to wear anything ostentatious. This size is right for you. Now try the other shapes.”

She submitted, holding her hand out to one ring after the other. What a pity not to be thrilled at a moment like this!

Now Jay, perceiving her shyness, took charge. “The pear-shaped one is less becoming,” he said, and the salesman agreed.

The two men considered. A yellow diamond was brought out and rejected, as was a round one. Her choice narrowed down to a marquise, the original emerald-cut, and a second emerald-cut. The salesman kept taking them off and putting them on. The two pairs of eyes questioned Jennie.

“I’m confused,” she murmured.

“Do you want to leave it to me?” asked Jay.

She mustered an easy smile. “You pick it. You’re the one who’s going to be looking at it across the table.”

So the first emerald-cut ring was chosen. Then a wedding band of diamond baguettes, narrow enough to be worn on the same finger, was put away to be sized, after which Jay wrote a check, which Jennie didn’t see, and they went out to the street.

“Painless, after all, wasn’t it, Jennie? Are you happy, darling?”

“You know I am.”

“You were so quiet.”

“I was embarrassed. My fingers are ink-stained. Didn’t you notice?”

“So what? Sign of honest labor, that’s all.” He laughed. “I didn’t tell you, I’m not going home tonight. The kids are staying with Phyllis’s parents. It’s their grandfather’s birthday. So you’ll be having an overnight guest. Hope you don’t mind.”

She felt a quick rise of desire. There were never enough nights when they could be together. She didn’t answer, just looked up at him, and the look spoke enough.

“My Jennie,” he said.

They walked quickly downtown, then east. The cold increased as dusk fell, with a damp prediction of snow in the air and a wind that took one’s breath, making speech difficult. Jay spoke first. “The usual place?”

“Why not?”

“The usual place” meant a restaurant two blocks from her apartment. Small and plain, it served superb Italian food. Lutece, La Cote Basque, and others like them were for weekends after a day of leisure—or relative leisure, to be more exact, since Jay always had some weekend work.

“Everybody loves Italian food,” he observed, unfolding his napkin.

Years ago in Philadelphia there had been another “little Italian place,” a cheap one with red-checked tablecloths. All day these startling images, so long forgotten, had come flickering back.

This table had a fresh white cloth and a handful of carnations in a glass container. And she urged herself silently, It’s 1988. I’m in New York. Here. Now.

Facing the table hung a garish picture in thick, oily blues, ultramarine and cobalt, framed with hideous gilt.

“Awful, isn’t it? It doesn’t half do justice to the Bay of Naples. We’ll go there, too, Jen.”

“Oh, I want to.”

“We ought to be hearing soon from the planning board about your case,” he said.

The cloud clung, gray and damp. She wanted to dispel it; she wanted comforting, the way a troubled child, wanting to be comforted, pretends to have a pain. So because she was unable to tell him of the real pain, she found a secondary one.

“I had such a nasty experience, Jay, really nasty.” And she told him about the man who had shoved her on the stairs.

“My God!” Jay cried. “Did you tell my father?”

“I didn’t want to. I don’t know why, I just didn’t want to.”

“You should have.”

“What could he have done about it? Nothing. I couldn’t prove it, could I?”

“Well, true enough. But the next time you come before the town council, I’m going to be there. Not that I expect any open attack or anything,” he said quickly. “The man’s a low-life, a sneak. A psychopathic personal-ity.”

“Your father’s guess is that he’s had a big offer for his land, which he’ll split with the mayor.”

“It makes sense. There’s no telling how many others on the council are in on the deal too. Those few acres, because of where they lie, are worth plenty. You know, Jen, in a way I’m almost sorry I got you into this fight. You take your work so much to heart! I’m afraid you’ll be awfully upset if you lose.”

“You’re thinking I will, aren’t you?”

“There’s a chance. The mayor only needs five votes on the council to win. So I just don’t want you to be too encouraged, that’s all.”

“So much skullduggery in such a little town!”

“You’ve no idea. City people, when they’re fed up, like to imagine a life that could be more innocent and decent if they moved out of the city, but let me tell you”—Jay grinned—”Chuck Anderson was elected as a man with a clean record. Chuck the Challenger, Honest Chuck. There’d be no more graft in road repair, no kickbacks on building permits—the usual stuff. Then, six or seven years back, an ugly business was dragged out into the light, something about Bruce Fisher—your friend— who’d been involved in a gang rape out near the lake. A rotten thing; the girl was fourteen. Well, it’s a tangled story, and I don’t remember all the details, but what does stand out in my mind is that Chuck had known all along about Fisher being involved in it and had at the time lied to protect him. So with the next election coming up, what does he do but come out in public with a full admission and apology? A heartfelt, teary repentance, beating his breast: I did wrong, I should have told you all long ago, I can only ask your forgiveness.’ Et cetera. And so everyone admires his courage and they reelect him.”

“Well,” Jennie said, “it did take courage. He didn’t have to admit it, did he?”

“Yes, but you see, when a person has waited that long to come out with a truth, you wonder what else he hasn’t admitted about himself and what’s going to come out next. I can’t feel the same ever again about anyone who does that, no matter what else is good about him. I simply lose my trust.”

Jennie was silent. Pasta and veal lay on her plate in a heap that suddenly was repulsive.

“And you see,” Jay said, “he’s straying from the straight and narrow again right now, isn’t he, in spite of the past few years of good government? We all really know he is, even if we can’t prove it. At least not yet.”

Jennie took a forkful of meat. It was like rubber in her mouth, although she knew it had been well prepared. Jay was eating his with obvious enjoyment.

“Yes,” he resumed thoughtfully, “it’s sometimes too late to make a clean breast of things.”

“Too late?” echoed Jennie.

“Too late for anyone to have confidence.”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“You’re not eating,” he remonstrated. “Don’t you feel well, honey?”

“It’s just that I’m tired. I told you.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t stay tonight.”

“Oh, please! I want you to. I’m not that tired!”

Flash your bright eyes, show him that you want him, because you do want him so terribly, though at this moment, not with desire but for reassurance.

Jay, Jay, don’t leave me. I can’t lose you.

“Has my mother called you about next week?” he asked.

“No. What about it?”

“Well, she will. They’re coming in next week, or maybe the week after, and she thought you might like to do some Saturday-afternoon shopping with her and the girls. She’s been buying Sue’s and Emily’s things ever since they lost their mother, and she thought you’d like to start taking over the job.”

“Of course. Of course I would.”

“Family obligations descending on you already.” He smiled, teasing.

“I don’t mind obligations.”

The words sounded flat to her ears, unlike the thoughts that now ran in a frenzy around and around in her head: If only he didn’t have a family, parents, children, and heaven knew what other relatives, to sit in judgment of her! If only they weren’t who they were, if only Jay were a nobody with no home, no job, no name, no ties, and they could go to some faraway place where no one could find them and start fresh in a whole new life without a past!

Fantasy, absurd fantasy. And she remembered the night, so short a time ago, when she had put his little girls to bed and been so filled with thankfulness and confidence and love.

They walked back through the wind again, now risen to a blast, so that they had to push against it, running with heads down. Back in the apartment, they rubbed icy hands together.

“Hot showers next,” Jay said.

“Hot coffee first or afterward?”

“Neither. Just a shower and bed. We’ll be warm enough in bed.”

Together they stood under the prickle and sting of rushing water, soaped and brushed each other’s backs, then, in the steaming little box that was Jennie’s bathroom, toweled each other dry.

He held his palms against her breasts, curving his fingers.

“Look, they fit exactly.”

And the familiar softness ran, dissolving like some sweet, thick liquid in her throat, and her knees unlocked so that her legs could hardly hold her straight. There was such force in him, but not like the force in other men, which could sometimes be frightening, so that one had to hold back or meet it with one’s own strength, to defend oneself both physically and emotionally against domination. With Jay, there was only giving, total giving, so gentle was his power.

Yet at the same time she knew her own power over him too. He needed her. She felt the miracle of his need, saw it in his eyes, widened now with anticipation and a kind of joyful mischief.

He picked her up, carried her to the bed, and turned the lamp off. And the night closed over them.

In the morning she made an early breakfast: freshly squeezed orange juice, pancakes, and coffee.

“I hate rushing in the morning,” she informed him. “I always like to get up an hour earlier and take my time.”

“That’s funny, I do too. Jennie, isn’t it marvelous that we keep on finding new things about ourselves that are just alike!”

“Don’t think I eat pancakes every morning, though. This is only in honor of last night, I want you to know.”

“They’re good. You make a helluva pancake.”

A narrow band of sunshine fell over the little table. In another half hour the sun would have moved around the corner of the building and the kitchenette would require electric light, but at this moment its glow was a celebration, and she loved it, loved the fragrance of roasted coffee, the flaming gloxinia on the windowsill, the black-and-yellow striped tie against Jay’s white shirt-front, the quiet closeness of being just two together instead of encircled by children or relatives or strangers in a restaurant.

“Well, the date’s coming closer,” Jay said, “and I’ve even bought a new suit.”

“Me too. Very bridelike. You’ll be surprised.”

“Let me guess. Pink?”

“I’m not telling. But you’ll like it. Shirley helped me pick it out.”

“Oops!” Jay made a funny face.

“Don’t worry, she knows what’s what, and then I only have to tone it down a little.”

“Jennie, darling, whatever you wear will be—”

The telephone rang. She went to the living room and picked it up.

“Good morning,” said Emma Dunn. “I’m sorry to call you this early, but I tried the last few nights and you were out.”

In those few seconds Jennie’s palms went slippery with sweat.

“I can’t talk to you. I’m on my way to work,” she said, keeping her tone calm.

“I understand. I’ll take just a moment. Tell me when you can come in to see me. At your convenience. You name the time.”

“Quite impossible. I’ll have to hang up now.”

“This isn’t going to go away, Miss Rakowsky. Jill isn’t going to go away, I have to warn you. So you’d do better to face—”

Jennie hung up, wiped her hands on a handkerchief, and composed her hot, stinging face.

“Trouble?” asked Jay.

“No, why?”

“You look bothered.”

“Well, I am. This client … poor thing, she has such a sad life, it’s awful.”

He said kindly, “You can’t mix emotions with law. They’ll grind you down if you do. Maybe you should have an unlisted number at home. Although, come to think of it, you won’t be at this number much longer.”