Illusions of Love (22 page)

Now her happiness was shadowed. She wanted Martin to be so very, very sure. What if Jenny turned up sometime in the future and he left her?

She looked at him for a long, contemplative moment.

“I will marry you,” she said.

“But let’s keep our engagement a secret for a while. I mean from everyone, even your mother and my parents. I think we should be together for a while to make sure it’s what we both really want.”

Martin felt strangely rejected.

“If that’s what you want. I would have thought that we could have gotten married in a couple of months. After all, we’re not exactly strangers.”

“In a sense, we are,” Sylvia said.

“This will be a very different relationship. We still have loads to learn about each other.”

“I guess you’re right,” Martin grudgingly admitted.

“How long do you want to wait before telling people?”

“Until next spring,” Sylvia said firmly.

And that was the way they left it. People could talk all they wanted, but Sylvia and Martin would not confirm the gossip for another six months.

In the end, Martin was glad they waited. The secret gave them time alone together time to forge a romantic bond in addition to their friendship.

As Sylvia said, “Once we are formally engaged we’ll never have a minute to ourselves.”

Martin used the time to good advantage, learning to appreciate Sylvia for who she truly was. The best thing he discovered was that they were so much alike. They had the same tastes and enjoyed the same ways of spending then free time. Even in little things like taking long walks or eating strawberries and cream for breakfast, their likes meshed.

Martin was aware that he and Jenny would never have been so conjugal.

Their future would always have been filled with uncertainties. He wondered why it had taken him so long to realize how right Sylvia was for him, with her quiet logic, her attention to detail, her sense of humour that could lift him out of a dark mood. He discovered dimensions in her that he more than admired.

Their only point of disagreement was where they should live. Martin asked if she’d like to rent an apartment or buy a house right away.

“I

don’t really want a house of my own,” she surprised him by saying.

“I’ve decided the most

wonderful thing we could do is live with your mother. “

“Darling, you can’t be serious. There’s no house in the world big enough for two mistresses.”

“Well, your mother and I are the exception to the rule. Of course I haven’t mentioned anything to her, but it would be best for all of us.

Think about it, Martin. “

There wasn’t really any need to think about it. Martin knew in the long run Sylvia and Bess would win.

The minute the wedding was announced, Bess felt a sense of purpose enter her life. She had suffered terribly when Martin had announced he was marrying Jenny McCoy. Now Bess’s only sorrow was that she could not share the triumph with Julian. It seemed that God took but He also gave.

She blessed Sylvia’s mother for letting her give the wed ding at the Woodside house.

“I don’t mind it a bit, Bess, since she’s always been more your daughter than mine. Just don’t come crying to me later about how tired you are!”

And suddenly it was as if their period of mourning had ended. There were so many parties given for them that Sylvia and Martin were kept in a constant whirl. Sylvia was involved in long days of trousseau shopping, bridal fittings, and decisions about the wedding. She and Bess had to select the menu, choose the photographers, pick the flowers, and buy the gifts for the wedding party.

They decided to have the wedding itself in the large salon. The furniture would be taken out and the two him dred and fifty guests would be seated in rows of gilt chairs set up on either side of an aisle. Bess also insisted that the chuppa, the traditional wedding canopy, would be magnificently adorned with roses, lilies of the valley, carnations, and white satin streamers. Gold candelabra would be placed on either side, and two giant flower-filled urns would adorn the altar.

Even though it would be June, Bess was afraid to set up an outdoor tent. She decided to have the reception in the white and gold

ballroom, since the Woodside house was old enough to have one built with magnificent proportions.

As the elaborate preparations continued, Martin felt more and more in the way. Finally, he said to Sylvia, “Darling, you are so involved with all this, would you mind terribly if I flew to New York to see Dominic? I have felt so guilty about the way I left the agency. There may still be some loose ends he’d like to go over.”

For a moment, Sylvia thought her knees would buckle. Had he heard from Jenny? Was this trip a pretext? Then, with gentle wisdom, she said, “Of course not, darling.”

As Martin rode into Manhattan from La Guardia he couldn’t help thinking of Jenny. Although he reminded himself that his only motive for coming to New York was to see Dominic, he kept remembering the times he had picked Jenny up at the airport. He could almost see her now running across the tarmac, her hair blowing in the wind. He could almost feel her in his arms. Guiltily he reminded himself he was engaged to Sylvia, but the images continued to torment him.

He was grateful when the cab stopped in front of the Waldorf.

“Will that be all, sir?” asked the bellhop when he’d shown Martin his room.

“Yes, thanks,” Martin said, giving him a dollar. After the door had closed, Martin looked around the room, remembering the hotel he had stayed in when he first moved to New York. This time his mother would have approved.

After washing up he went downstairs to the bar. He’d told Dominic he would be in too late to have dinner, but the truth was Martin wanted some time alone in New York to think. As he sipped his scotch, he wondered why he had given himself a free evening, why he had really made the trip to New York. One reason he hadn’t admitted to Sylvia was to finally sublease his apartment on Central Park West. All these months he’d been paying rent, but it was only now he could admit to himself he’d been hoping Jenny would return. Well, such dreams would have to end. He’d call the

renting agent in the morning and make arrangements.

He finished the last of his drink and went out the lobby to Park Avenue. He started to walk, deciding he’d stop to eat when he came to a restaurant that appealed to him, but in every window he passed he seemed to see Jenny’s face. Unable to bear it any longer, he hailed a cab and gave the Central Park West address. Tonight he would give in to his memories. Then tomorrow he’d sign the sublease the realtor was holding, visit Dominic, and spend the next few days buying a wedding gift for Sylvia and concentrating on his future.

But would he be able to forget? he wondered as the cab came to a halt before his old building. Riding the elevator, he felt Jenny’s ghostly presence at his side, and once inside the apartment he pictured her everywhere he turned, smiling at him when he walked in the door, struggling over a new recipe, and with him in bed. They had been so happy. They had never even said goodbye properly. And now he remembered all the words he’d left unsaid.

He didn’t know how long he sat in the empty bedroom which had held so many of his dreams. It was after nine when he finally went back to the street and found a cab. Too emotionally exhausted to think of eating, he went straight back to his hotel and went to bed.

Before he fell asleep, he remembered his father’s kindness, his mother’s joy in his wedding next month, and Sylvia, who had waited so patiently for him to sort out his life. He promised himself he would spend the rest of his life making her happy. He would be the most devoted of husbands. He would never cause her a moment’s grief. He appreciated all her virtues, and together they would build a life that would be a proud testament to his parents, Ephraim, and all the Jewish men and women who had struggled to live in freedom. He would live happily with wife and children who believed in his God and his past.

Even with this resolve firmly in his mind it took Martin several hours to fall asleep.

The next morning, though, he felt better. He visited the realtor and spent the afternoon in Dominic’s office outlining some of the accounts he had in mind for the company to chase and certain plans the agency might adopt for expansion.

That evening he went back with Dominic to his apartment. Martin couldn’t get over how successful his friend had become. He had moved to a large apartment on Riverside Drive, employed a Filipino houseboy, and was currently living with a French model named Coco.

Dominic had come a long way from the poor Italian section of New Haven, and he’d done it all on his own. The thing that amazed Martin the most was his friend’s selfconfidence. Dominic never seemed to question life or where it was taking him. He was obviously fond of Coco, but when they broke up he’d cheerfully find a replacement who’d make him equally happy.

“Drink up,” Dominic urged.

“Coco’s spending the night at her sister’s.

We can really tie one on. “

Martin laughed.

“You never change, do you. Always ready for a good time.”

“And why not, Martin? Life’s short. You’ve always taken it too seriously. Come on, old buddy, this will be your last trip East as a free man.”

“Maybe that’s what’s bothering me. Look, Dominic, the thing that haunts me is the fact that Jenny just disappeared. If I knew she was all right, I think I could put her out of my mind.”

“Well, that bothers me too. But you have to remember Jenny grew up in the school of hard knocks. She’s tough. She was vulnerable where you were concerned, because she loved you. But I wouldn’t worry too much.

She’s a survivor. “

“God, I hope so. I just wish I could have done something for her.”

“Well, there wasn’t a hell of a lot you could have done. You never could have married her.”

Martin looked away.

“How can you be so sure? You told me once that if I loved her, I should fight for her.”

“Well, did you?”

“What the hell do you mean by that? Of course I did!”

“No, you didn’t, old buddy. Not really. After your father died, she felt abandoned.”

“What the hell could I have done?”

“You could have sent for her. Or come back here.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying. My mother was in such a state of shock, she wasn’t quite ready to cope with a gentile daughter-in-law.”

“And maybe you weren’t ready for a gentile wife. Now do yourself a favour, Martin. You can have a long, fruitful life with Sylvia. She comes from the same background, and from everything you’ve told me she was made for you. Opposites may attract, but I don’t think they live together happily. Now go home, Martin. Forget Jenny. Otherwise you’ll just end up destroying your marriage.”

Dominic’s logic was so airtight Martin couldn’t argue. He relaxed and allowed himself to enjoy the evening.

Two days later when Dominic saw Martin off on the plane a beautiful emerald cocktail ring from Tiffany’s in his pocket Dominic’s last words were, “Learn to enjoy life, Martin. See ya at the wedding.”

The day of the wedding had arrived at last. Bess was almost as happy as the bride. Both women were about to see their dreams fulfilled.

Bess came into the bedroom as Sylvia was fussing over her hair. The maid had already zipped up the tight scalloped bodice and straightened the full skirt over its petticoat. The silk was trimmed all over with

circles of lace with small pearls sewn in the centre.

“I wanted to see you before you officially become my daughter, but after all these years no words could make us any closer. You’ve brought me untold joy as I know you have to Martin.”

Sylvia embraced Bess.

“I promise you I’ll make Martin happy.”

“I know you will, my dear,” and she took the heavy strand of pearls from a velvet jewel box and slipped them over Sylvia’s head.

“These were given to me by Martin’s grandmother on my wedding day. I pass them on to you with the same love. Wear them in joy, my dear.”

Bess stood back and watched as the maid lifted up the yards of Valenciennes lace veiling.

In his old boyhood room Martin, fortified with brandy, was struggling with his pearl studs. When he finished getting the last one in, he began to fuss with his white tie, nervously pulling it loose.

“Here, let me help you do that,” Dominic said with a deft tug.

“All you have to do is relax, old buddy.”

“Relax? How can I? I’m scared to death!”

“Well, you won’t be for long. Listen, you’re one lucky man to have a girl like Sylvia. She’s fabulous. What the hell did she ever see in you?”

“Thanks. That really helps a lot, Dominic.”

“Well, you needed a little pep talk. It’s time for the best man to lead the groom to the altar.”

The music had begun. The two friends watched as the bridesmaids walked slowly down the centre aisle and took their places. Then the organist paused and began the wedding march.

A regal Sylvia walked down the marble staircase, her long train held by her thirteen-year-old niece, Linda. The pearls around her throat gleamed and her arms were filled with fragrant white roses and lilies of the valley.

At the entrance to the salon she was met by her father. Linda adjusted the veil, then retreated down the aisle.

Sylvia took her father’s arm and waited while two little flower girls in long white organza dresses strewed the aisle with rose petals. Then the youngest cousin, Ephraim Roth, walked down the aisle, dressed in short black velvet pants and a white silk blouse, nervously bearing the rings on a white satin pillow.

Finally, Sylvia and her father started down the aisle between the two rows of flower-filled standards towards the altar. Sylvia was oblivious to the admiring whispers.

“Isn’t she beautiful … ” And people thought she’d end up an old maid.

“

“She certainly snagged the most eligible bachelor in San Francisco.”

A hush fell as they reached the canopy. Her father hugged her briefly and whispered, “We love you,” then handed her over to her husband-to-be. Sylvia and Martin stood side by side while the Rabbi spoke the vows. Martin promised to love, honour and cherish; Sylvia promised to love, honour and obey. Then Martin crushed the traditional wineglass under his heel and the Rabbi pronounced them husband and wife.