Come Pour the Wine (19 page)

When she let herself into her room it seemed stark and impersonal, as if it too were rejecting her presence. Bill had seemed so remote, she thought as she sat on the bed, much as he had that first night. Only it had been worse today.

She couldn’t imagine what she’d done … if indeed she’d done anything. His family had accepted her with warmth, so it couldn’t be that. He was so damned unpredictable. Last Sunday he’d all but begged her to stay, and tonight he had been cold, distant … rejecting. Was he trying to break off? She shuddered as she looked about the room. It seemed to close in on her. God, how she needed Kit. She must have said or done
something
to cause such a drastic change in him. But what? …

The next day she went to a photo session with her mind in a total muddle. The photographer was less than patient. “Relax, relax,” he shouted. “You look like a wooden statue. Hold it … hold it … For God’s sake, Janet,
hold
it.”

She had walked from the room, surprising the photographer with what he took as a show of temper. But she had needed a moment to compose herself, to damp the panic that had lain just below the surface ever since last night. She stood in the hall, her breathing shallow and her heart pounding.
You can’t bring your problems to work … Damn you, cry on your own time.
After a few minutes she had gone back and apologized.

By the day’s end, when she had packed up her tote bag and stepped into the elevator to go home she was exhausted. Tonight of all nights, she prayed she’d be able to get a cab. She stood on the curb anxiously scanning the oncoming cars, when she suddenly heard Bill call out to her.

He was smiling when he came across the street to her. “I almost missed you,” he said. He bent and kissed her, and when she didn’t respond he drew back and saw the obvious hurt in her eyes. She was no good at dissembling. It said flat out that she loved him, and that, of course, was what had made everything so hard for him. But it had been even harder to spend the night without her.

“I acted like a heel yesterday,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you did.” Her anger helped control the pain she felt. “And I don’t know why.”

“We all have our moments … don’t take it seriously. I’m not like that too often—”

“What got into you?”

“I don’t know … Let’s forget it, and have a drink and something to eat.”

In spite of herself she didn’t resist when he took her arm, then hailed a taxi and helped her into the back seat. Strange, that constant going forward and backward between love and anger, she thought, that small thin line separating the two.

After the first drink she felt a little better, although there was still a painful residue. As she sat and looked across the table at him, she knew she couldn’t continue to let his unpredictable moods influence her life the way they had, leaving her like last night, sitting alone in a hotel room, not knowing whether they were on or off …

Janet said, “Bill, I’m going to look for an apartment.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Why?”

“Because I hate hotels. And because I want a place … where I can … entertain, have friends …”

“I don’t know why you need an apartment,” he said, suddenly feeling threatened, as if he might be losing her. “It’s a lot of responsibility. And besides, you can always use my place—”

“No. It’s not the same. I need a
home,
Bill. Not just for friends but for me. I feel like a gypsy, living the way I am. So transient … no roots.”

He reached over and took her hand. “Janet, you’re still upset with me, aren’t you?”

“Not as much as I was … I suppose we all have problems, I know it’s sometimes hard to talk about them—”

“Thank you for understanding, honey.”

That’s me … I know, understanding little Janet … the sweet perfect little ass. She looked at him, but kept silent.

“Really,” he went on, “it means a lot to me that you’re that much of a friend.”
Friend …
that was a bull’s-eye, right on target. Better slow down and let it ride, Janet, unless you want to start a fight and lose him right now. So what if he’d been out of sorts? It was only after the first few dates that people could get to know each other, she reminded herself. He couldn’t deny his feelings any more than she could deny hers. They’d simply have to give each other time. Squeezing his hand, she smiled and said, “You’re right, that’s what real friends do, try to be understanding.”
But how long?

“Right … now, about the apartment. Suppose we look this weekend?”

“Would you? I’d like you to help me find a place. I want you to like it, too.”

“Absolutely. We’ll find a place. Together …”

But somehow they never got around to looking for an apartment. Instead, life fell into a pattern. Janet began staying at his apartment two or three nights a week, as well as on weekends. Many of her clothes hung in his closet and in time she almost forgot they
weren’t
married. She cooked dinner for him, and loved doing it. Gradually she came to feel there was more reward in her life with Bill than in her career.

As for Bill, he had never known such contentment either. The bachelorhood that had been so all-important seemed to fade in the distance. It was as though they’d been together forever. He loved the feeling of having her there to greet him when he went home, the sounds of her preparing dinner and the quiet togetherness of their evenings. The more time they spent together the surer he became that their affair might go on for years. Janet had, after all, given him reason to think so.

T
HAT AUTUMN WAS AN
especially happy time for them, with warm clear weekends spent in Central Park or discovering new sights and shops, and with rainy weekends spent taking in a movie or just relaxing at home.

One day early in November, when winter was just setting in, Bill called Harriet and asked if anyone was going to their farm in Maine that weekend. She wasn’t sure, but if Betsy or Alice asked her about it she’d tell them she’d lent it out to a friend. Leave it to Harriet….

It was snowing when Bill and Janet drove up to the farmhouse. As they brought their bags inside they found that Ned, who had been with the family more years than anyone could remember, had left an ample supply of logs for the fireplace. His wife Lucy had carefully dusted every surface, stocked the larder and filled the house with pots of chrysanthemums and huge vases of pine branches and juniper berries. As a finishing touch she had prepared some mulled wine. When she left she gave a last glance around, thinking that it was a perfect setting for newlyweds—completely unaware that Harriet had told her this was a honeymoon only to insure Bill and Janet some privacy. Harriet hadn’t known how else to handle the situation, and while she wondered what explanation she would give if Janet was no longer in the picture, somehow she suspected that it wouldn’t be necessary, that what was now a deception might soon become reality.

After dinner that evening Janet lay in Bill’s arms, looking into the fire. The mulled wine, fragrant with cloves, cinnamon sticks and slices of lemon, heightened their mood of quiet contentment and added a sweetness to their kisses. In the aftermath of their lovemaking, they lay on the fur rug in front of the fireplace, watching the shifting play of light on each other’s bodies and feeling as if this moment might last forever….

The next morning, after a breakfast of ham steaks, country fresh eggs and biscuits, they dressed and went out into the snow. The earth lay blanketed in soft winter white and the snow-laden branches of pines and firs shimmered in the winter sun of a cloudless blue sky.

The stillness was absolute, as if they were the only people on earth, and the awesome beauty of the morning immersed Janet in a happiness she simply had never known.

Bill found an old toboggan in the barn, and they trudged up a hill behind the house, startling a deer into flight with their voices. As they careened down the hill, snow flew up around them, stinging their faces, and they broke into exhilarated laughter when the sled came to a halt and tipped them over.

Bill wiped the snow from her face and lashes. She looked, he decided, like a rosy delicious apple, her cheeks aflame from the cold, crisp air. God, she was beautiful … “This is the best fun I’ve had in my life,” he whispered, “and it’s because of you … I can’t even imagine what it would be without you. These last months have, as they say, opened up a whole new world. I mean it. I hope you never leave …”

It was the best for her too. Better, deeper even, than their physical lovemaking. Which was saying a great deal indeed. All right, he still hadn’t said the magic three little words, but hadn’t he in effect said them … ?

“I won’t, Bill,” she replied softly. “You can count on it.”

For a moment there was silence between them. He had never said such things to her before, and while they were true he was momentarily alarmed by the deep trust he saw in her eyes. He still had no intention of marrying her, but God, he
did
love her. To lose her now would be …

He helped her to her feet and righted the sled. “Game for another try?”

“Game … bet I can beat you up the hill.”

“Sure you could, I’m carrying the sled.”

“Leave it and we’ll slide down without it. It’s even better by the seat of your pants.”

She broke loose sooner than he. The snow wasn’t as solidly packed as she’d thought and Bill was gaining on her. She picked up a handful of snow in her mittened hand and threw it at him. It landed on his chin.

“You want to play rough, huh?” he said, ducking her next snowball and scooping up his own ammunition.

Now there was a quick volley of snowballs as she inched her way to the top of the incline. Breathlessly, she called out, “See, I told you I could beat you.”

“That was dirty pool.”

He reached out and wrestled her to the ground, and they rolled together down the hill. When they reached the bottom he was on top of her, pinning back her shoulders, and the echo of their laughter reverberated in the silence.

“See … I told you you couldn’t beat me,” he said, his breath steaming against the cold air.

“Okay, you win.”

He gave her a victor’s kiss, then pulled her to her feet.

After lunch, Bill harnessed the chestnut gelding to the old sleigh he had ridden as a child. They wrapped a fox-skin rug over their legs and rode through the countryside, completely absorbed in the enchantment of the snow-covered scene.

“Oh, Bill, let’s drive over there,” Janet said, pointing beyond a stand of birches to a small village in the distance.

“It’s really nothing, Janet,” he replied quickly, “just a nowhere little village with a country store as its one claim to fame.”

“I love country stores. Please let’s go.”

She didn’t notice his uneasiness as he pulled the reins to the left….

When they reached the general store Bill hitched the gelding to the iron post in front of the feed and grain barn and then helped Janet out. He saw her excitement as she looked about at the old village, and he had to admit it was picturesque, like something from another time. That was why he’d always enjoyed coming here, no matter what the season.

When they entered the store there was a group of men chatting around the black pot-bellied stove. The store’s proprietor, Mr. Swanson, saw Bill from the corner of his eye and got up and walked behind the counter.

“Well, if it isn’t Bill McNeil. Congratulations to you and the missus. Lucy told us the good news.”

There was total shock on Bill’s face. He had known it would be awkward to bring Janet in here, but he had hoped they would assume he’d met Janet at the ski lodge, that she wasn’t staying at the farm with him. After all, these were country people and they would be scandalized by the truth. But this! Obviously it was Harriet’s doing, a way of sparing Janet the inevitable embarrassment of gossip. Which was something he should have thought of himself—though he certainly wouldn’t have handled it the same way. Harriet’s damned decency had put him in a touchy situation with Janet. Hell, he should have know better than to leave the farm today. But … done was done. He tried to smile and mumbled a thank you.

Seeing Bill’s discomfort, Janet averted her eyes as old Mr. Swanson continued, “So you went and took the plunge—that’s a might fine lookin’ woman you took it with. Now, what can I do for you?”

You already did it.
“We’re going to look around, if you don’t mind.”

“You do that,” Mr. Swanson said, going back to his game of checkers.

Janet’s embarrassment was so apparent Bill didn’t know what to say. He took her hand and walked into the adjacent room, where patchwork quilts, handmade sweaters, socks, knitted mufflers and an assortment of calicoes and woolens lay on the shelves.

She let go of his hand and wandered about, trying to focus her attention on the items, but all she could think of was the shock on Bill’s face a few minutes ago. That look had said it all. That was the reality, and the hope and security that had built up over the last months together had been nothing more than an illusion. She had been living a lie, with no one to blame but herself.

“Janet … I’m sorry about—”

She ignored his outstretched hand and walked out of the store. Bill followed her, unable to look her in the face as he helped her into the sleigh and secured the rug over her legs. He unhitched the reins and they rode back in silence. Cold silence.

As they approached the house she said, “Let me out here. I want to be alone.” She walked slowly to the front door, oblivious now to the beauty she had seen this morning. When she let herself in the door she stood trembling against it. She had deluded herself for nine months but now it was over. She wasn’t cut out for love affairs that went nowhere, and this man had said nothing to deny that that was
exactly
what this was….

When Bill came back to the house after putting the gelding back in its stall he went directly to the bedroom to find Janet. But the door was locked.

“Janet?” he called out softly.

There was no response.

“Janet, please let me in …”

He heard the click of the lock, and as he slowly opened the door he saw Janet’s suitcase on the bed. She continued to pack without a glance in his direction.