Illusions of Love (18 page)

“Jenny, if you could have seen him Monday morning when he came to my apartment. He was out of his mind with grief. He knows he’s hurt you.

But he’s desperate to see you. Can I tell him to come in? “

Jenny wondered if she should risk it. In his fashion maybe Martin did love her. Maybe she had expected too much.

“Jenny, he’s waiting outside,” Dominic continued.

“What should I tell him?”

“Before I answer that, let me ask you something. Do you think he will ever be able to give up his religion and marry me?”

Dominic thought carefully.

“Time is a wonderful thing. Maybe if you both just let things evolve there will be a happy ending. Take that chance. Jenny. Martin loves you. Now what shall I tell him?”

“To come in.”

When Martin sat by her bed, she was as shocked by his appearance as he had been by hers. There was no question about his suffering. He was gaunt and haggard.

Looking at her, Martin blamed himself. / brought her to this, he thought. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her once shiny hair hung dull and limp. For a few minutes he was unable to speak.

Finally, he said huskily, “I love you, Jenny. I’m sorry it took this to make me realize, but I do love you. Do you think we could ” Start again? I don’t think so, Martin. Because there just isn’t any place for our love to go. I can’t just move in with you. It’s a sin . Her voice trailed off.

“God, Jenny. I know I’ve hurt you, but just give me the chance to show you.”

She was so tired, so weary.

“We’ll talk about it when I’m well. When we both feel less emotional. It’s been a bad time.”

He got up and kissed her.

“I love you. Jenny. I’ve never said that to anyone before except you. At least know that. I love you. Just give me some hope that you’ll ” Not today. “

He walked out of the room to find Dominic.

“I don’t think she’s ever going to forgive me.”

“Did she say so?”

“No, but she didn’t say she would.”

“Look Jenny’s been hurt and she’s very frightened. If you really want her, you’re going to have to fight for her.”

“How do I do that?”

“By making up your mind that you can’t have the best of all possible worlds. You’re going to have to make compromises, old buddy. That’s what life’s all about. You can’t please her and your parents.”

“You mean I should just go ahead and marry her?”

“That’s right. It’s the only fair thing to do.”

Martin swallowed hard.

“Jesus, there has never been any intermarriage in my family. This would kill my folks.”

“Don’t be silly, Martin. I doubt if your mother or father would be that affected. They’d be unhappy for a while they were unhappy you came to New York, but they got over it and knowing that you love Jenny, they would accept her in time. Martin, we talked about this once before. The decision is yours.”

“You’re right,” Martin said.

“And I wouldn’t have to convert just promise that if we have kids, they’d be raised Catholic.”

But as he walked down the hospital corridor with Dominic he had an uneasy sense that nothing would be as easy as it sounded.

Each day found Jenny just a little stronger. Martin visited her frequently, often twice a day. He filled her room with flowers and had special food sent. Every day he bought her little presents and silly toys to make her laugh.

When she was able to get out of bed, she walked down the hall on his arm. She was finally beginning to look a little more like herself, and Martin felt it was safe to start making plans.

“Jenny, I know you haven’t said a word about us, but that’s all I’ve thought about. I want to live with you. I want us to plan on getting married.”

She hesitated, then said, “How would that work for us, Martin? We haven’t solved anything. Have you spoken to your family about this?”

His silence gave her the answer.

“You see, that’s just the problem, Martin. Being sick has given me a lot of time to think. Unless your family can accept me, Jenny McCoy, Catholic, I could never marry you.”

“My God, don’t say that! I know they will accept you. They’ll have to.

But it may take time. Believe me. Jenny, everything will work out.

“

“I really don’t know, Martin,” Jenny said.

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I am if you’re willing to give it a chance.” He took her hand and held it gently.

“I leased an apartment in a

building on Central Park West with a marvelous view. I bought furniture, and when I told them my bride had been ill, they promised immediate delivery. The super even arranged to have it painted in two days. I know you’re going to love it. ” He smiled.

“Incidentally, I hired a housekeeper so you won’t have to pick up after me.”

When Jenny was released from the hospital, she agreed to move in with Martin at least until she felt stronger. She really had no one else to look after her and she was still too weak to resist. Besides, she knew she loved him.

She was very quiet on the ride home. Martin’s apartment turned out to be everything he promised. The view was lovely and the rooms large, but she was startled to see how masculine the furnishings appeared.

The walls of the living room were a deep blue. A wild piece of sculpture a sunburst of jagged metal strips fused together at different points hung over the leather sofa that flanked one wall, and an enormous glass coffee table sat on a thick copper carpet. Two large chairs in plaid corduroy sat like bookends on either side of the fireplace.

Martin walked out onto the balcony with two glasses of champagne and said, “Here’s to us and to a new beginning.”

Jenny accepted the glass but she couldn’t meet Martin’s eyes.

As she lay next to him that first night, she did feel that she had come home. He did not press her to make love, indicating that he would wait until she felt stronger. For the next two weeks he cared for her patiently. Then one Friday she dismissed the housekeeper early, deciding to make dinner to surprise him. The following week she intended to go back to work and would have less time.

She laughed as she “planned the menu. She was going to have Louisiana food: seafood gumbo, stuffed artichoke with crab, scalloped potatoes, green beans with slivered almonds, pecan pie. If she had anything to thank Cora Belle Collingsworth for, it was the times she had spent

learning to cook in her kitchen. Jenny remembered the red bandanna that Willie May wore around her head and the white starched apron that she tied around her plump body.

Martin Had called several times to tell her not to overdo it, but her efforts had left her feeling more energetic and optimistic than she had for a very long time. By the end of the day, when she heard Martin’s key in the latch and ran to greet him, she didn’t feel the least bit tired.

“God, you smell delicious,” he said as he kissed her.

She took him by the hand and led him to his favourite chair.

“Let’s have a drink.”

“Great.”

“Let me fix it this time, okay?”

“Fine.” She looked radiant tonight, he thought.

As she handed him his drink and seated herself on the ottoman by his chair, he glanced into the dining room, where the table was set with crystal candle holders and a centrepiece of pink roses.

“I hope you haven’t tired yourself.”

“You know I’m almost happiest when I’m cooking,” Jenny said.

“Sometimes I think I should have gone into haute cuisine instead of cosmetics.”

“Is the kitchen the only room where you can be happy?”

“Don’t be devious.”

But he was pleased to note that she was smiling.

After dinner Jenny sat gazing at Martin across the table. She had never loved him so much. Then, with a shadow of uncertainty in her voice she said, “Martin, I want so much to marry you. You’re the only man I’ll ever love. Now and for always.”

Martin took her in his arms.

“Oh my dear, sweet Jenny. It’s been such a tough road for us.” And will continue to be, he couldn’t help thinking. There was still the ordeal of confronting his parents, but he shoved the thought aside, not wanting to spoil the moment.

There was an extra tenderness in their lovemaking that night as if all they had suffered had only brought them

closer. With each kiss, each caress, Martin found himself knowing that Jenny was the most important person in his life.

The next morning at breakfast Martin watched as Jenny broke his soft-boiled egg in the cup, buttered his toast, and poured his coffee.

She looked irresistible in her violet taffeta dressing gown. He knew the moment had come; he would have to go West and see his parents. The thought of that painful meeting must have showed in his face, for Jenny looked up from her plate and said, “What’s wrong, Martin?”

“Not a thing.”

But she persisted.

“I know you. Something’s bothering you.”

“Well,” he sighed, “I’ve thought about this very carefully. I’m going to San Francisco as soon as I can make a reservation.”

Jenny caught her breath. She had no doubt that Martin’s decision was anything but an act of commitment, but still the idea terrified her.

He was so close to his family. What if once he left her, they forced him to change his mind? What if he never came back to her? Yet she knew he had to go. It was the only way.

“How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

“About a week. I haven’t seen them since I came to New York. But you’re not to worry. You must believe me. Everything will work out.”

“I do believe you,” she said. That much was true, but when she heard Martin make his reservation with United Airlines for a five o’clock flight that afternoon her heart sank. As she packed Martin’s suitcase, she wondered if she should go with him. Not to see his parents, but to give him, perhaps, the moral support he needed. Then she realized that if she did go, it would be more to quiet her own fears than to give Martin support.

As they stood at the airport terminal, Martin said, “I’ll call you every night, darling, and don’t forget if you need anything, call

Dominic. I wish you would have allowed him to come to the airport with us. I hate the idea of you going back alone.”

With all the courage she could summon, she said, “I didn’t want anyone to share this moment with us. Martin, you will take care of yourself.”

“Yes, darling, and you too. I’ll think about you every second I’m gone.”

Finally, in spite of herself, she felt the tears filling her eyes.

“It will be all right, won’t it, Martin?”

He nodded.

“Yes, darling. You must believe that. Just trust me.”

“Ido … I do … ” She wanted so badly to believe that.

When the boarding call came she looked at Martin, wanting to memorize his features. She had the feeling that this was as bad as seeing someone off to war: she might never see him again.

Sitting in the first-class cabin miles above the earth, Martin considered the different ways he could approach his parents. The task would be harder than Jenny’s worst fears. He had already disappointed his family once: he had left his father’s firm, choosing to live three thousand miles away. Every phone call filled him with guilt when his mother would conclude their talk with, “Martin, when are you coming home? We miss you so … You should have come to your cousin Ronald’^ wedding. Sylvia was there … She’s back from London. She’s quite beautiful … Martin’s answers were always apologetic, and when he hung up it was hours before the thought of his mother’s reproachful gaze stopped haunting him.

It was ten hours before Martin’s plane touched down in San Francisco.

He hoped that because of the late arrival time his parents would not come to the airport, but they were waiting as he cleared the ramp. As he hugged them both he knew he would have to save his news for the next day.

A radiant Bess took his arm as they walked to the car.

“Oh, Martin, we’re so grateful you’re home.”

The next morning Martin slept late. He spent the afternoon trying to find a chance to catch his father alone, but events or his own faint heart intervened. In the evening, in addition to his uncles and aunts, Bess had invited Sylvia and her parents. Sylvia had, if possible, grown even more lovely, but Martin had trouble concentrating on what she was saying. A look in her eyes told him she knew he was suffering, and she made every attempt to steer the conversation away from him since he so obviously wished to be silent.

Soon after they left the table for the living room, Martin glanced at his watch and said, “I’m really sorry to be so tired, but that flight was exhausting. If everyone would just excuse me … They all assured him it was fine that he go to bed.

“Of course we understand … ” Those flights are amazing, no wonder you need to get some sleep . “Imagine crossing the country in ten hours Martin hastened upstairs followed by those murmurs of concern for his fatigue. Once in his room he sat down at the desk and picked up the phone.

His heart leaped when he heard Jenny’s voice but the conversation was stilted. Each was afraid to reveal their fears, which left them saying things they thought would please each other . “I know everything is fine, dear … ” Oh yes, Martin, I had a wonderful evening with Dominic. “

“The flight? Wonderful … Of course I miss you terribly, but I’ll be back before you know it.” Just bits of truths and half-truths.

When Jenny hung up it was with the same fears that she had experienced when she returned from the airport. Too depressed to eat, she had poured herself a drink and let herself give in to tears. She had not actually called Dominic. Instead she had just sipped several drinks until she had been able to fall asleep.

It was three days before Martin could mention the real 136 reason for his visit to his father, and in the end it was his father who created the opening. Martin had spent the day alone driving down the coast, and when he came home Williams, the butler, stopped him on the stairs.

“Your father has asked to see you in his study.”

Martin turned.