Now and Forever (28 page)

Astrid arrived at eleven. She had flowers with her, and a roast chicken she'd bought for Jessie to pick on, and a bag full of fruit. And a small vial of yellow pills. But after twenty minutes of persistently ringing the doorbell there was still no answer; Astrid knew Jessie was there because she had called the boutique to make sure. Finally she began to worry seriously and knocked on the kitchen windows with her rings. Jessie peered cautiously between the curtains and then jumped half a foot when she saw Astrid. She had thought it was Houghton again.

"Good Lord, child, I thought something had happened. Why didn't you answer the door? Worried about press?"

"No, there's no problem with that. It's ... oh ... I don't know." And then there were tears in her eyes again and she was standing there looking like an overgrown child and telling Astrid about the visit from Houghton. "I just can't take it. He's so ... so evil, and so happy about what happened. And he said that our ... our marriage ..." She was crying too hard to go on and Astrid made her sit down.

"Why don't you come and stay with me for a little while, Jessica? You could have the guest room and get away from here for a few days."

"No!" Jessie sprang to her feet and started pacing the room, touching chairs as she sped past, or picking something up and then putting it down again. It was a series of odd little staccato gestures, but Astrid recognized them. She had reacted the same way when Tom had died.

"No. Thank you, Astrid, but I want to be here. With ... with ..." She faltered, not quite sure of what she wanted to say.

"With Ian's things. I know. But maybe that's not such a good idea. And is it worth the price of being heckled by people like that policeman? And what if there are others who show up the same way? Do you want to have to deal with that?"

"I won't open the door."

"You can't live like that, Jessica. Ian won't want you to."

"Yes, he will. Honest. Really ... I ... oh, God, Astrid, I'm going crazy, I can't ... I don't know how without Ian."

"But you're not without Ian. You'll see him. I still don't understand what happened, but maybe you can work it out. He's not gone, Jessica. He's not dead, for God's sake. Stop acting like he is."

"But he's not here." Her voice had a pitiful sound. "I need him here. I'll go crazy without him, I'll ... I'll ..."

"No, you won't. Not unless you want to go crazy, or make yourself do so. Take yourself in hand, Jessica, and sit down. Right now. Come on, sit down." Jessica had been popping in and out of chairs like a jack-in-the-box for the past five minutes. Her voice was rising to a desperate pitch. "Have you had breakfast?" Jessica shook her head and started to say that she didn't want any, but Astrid held up her hand and vanished into the kitchen. She emerged five minutes later with toast, jelly, the fresh fruit she had brought, and a cup of steaming tea. "Would you rather have coffee?" Jessie shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment.

"I just don't believe this is happening, Astrid."

"Don't think about it yet. You can't make sense of it, so don't try. When can you see Ian?" Jessie's eyes opened and she sighed at the question.

"Tomorrow."

"All right. Then all you have to do is try and stay calm till tomorrow. You can do that, can't you?"

Jessica nodded, but she wasn't quite sure. That meant a day, and a night, and a morning. And the night would be the worst. Full of ghosts and voices and echoes and terrors. She had twenty-four hours to survive until she saw Ian.

But there was one thing she did want to do. Now. Before she saw Ian. And that was to talk to Martin about an appeal. He was in his office when she called, and he sounded subdued.

"Are you all right, Jessica?"

"I'm okay. How's Ian?" Her voice caught on the words, and at the other end Martin frowned. He was remembering how she had looked the night before when he'd dropped her off.

"He's holding up. He was awfully shocked, though."

"I can imagine." She said it softly, with a distracted smile. Shocked. They both were. "Martin, I called because I wanted to ask you something now, right away, before I see Ian tomorrow."

"What?"

"I want to know what we can do about an appeal, how we do it, do you do it, all of that." And how the hell do we pay for it? That was another thing.

"Well, we can talk about that after the sentencing, Jessica. If he gets probation, then there isn't much point in pressing for an appeal, except as a matter of record, to clear Ian of the felony. He might want to do that. But I think you should wait till after the sentencing to make a decision. There's a limited time in which to file an appeal, but you'll still have plenty of time then."

"How soon is the sentencing?"

"Four weeks from tomorrow."

"But why wait till after that?"

"Because, Jessie, you don't know what's going to happen. If they send him home on probation, Ian may not want to spend his last dime, or yours, on an appeal. It's not as if he's in a delicate position professionally where it can hurt him to have that on his record. All right, it can hurt him," he reconsidered, "but not that badly in his profession. And if he's free, what do you care?"

"What do you mean, if he's free?" Jessie was feeling confused again.

"All right, the alternative is, if they don't give him probation, they'll send him to prison. In that case, you may well want to appeal. But all an appeal is going to do for you, Jessica, is get you a new trial. You'll have to go through the whole ordeal again. There isn't a shred of evidence we didn't submit. Nothing would change. So you'd be going through it all again, maybe to no avail. I think right now our push should be for probation. And we can worry about an appeal after we see what happens with that. All right?"

Jessica reluctantly agreed, and hung up. What did he mean, "if" they set Ian free? What was the "if"?

"Okay?"

"Okay." She smiled and instinctively her hand went to the gold lima bean at her throat, and played with it for a moment as she looked at him. She had survived the twenty-four hours, and Houghton had not returned, "I love you, Ian."

"Darling, I love you too. Are you really all right?" He looked so worried about her.

"I'm fine. What about you?"

His eyes told their own tale. He was in county jail this time, and he was wearing the filthy overalls they had given him. They had stuffed his clothes in a shopping bag and returned them to Martin. He had sent them back to Jessie the evening before, along with the Volvo. After that she had taken the two pills Astrid had left her.

"Martin says they might give you probation." But they both remembered the article they had read the day of the trial. It had been in favor of abolishing probation on rape cases. The public mood was not lenient just now.

"We'll see, Jessie, but don't count on it. We'll give it a try." He smiled and Jessie fought back tears. What would happen if he didn't get probation? She hadn't even begun to face that yet Later. Another "later," like the trial, and the verdict. "Have you been behaving yourself? No panic, no freakies?" He knew her too well.

"I've been fine. And Astrid's been taking care of me like a child." She didn't tell him about Houghton. Or the night of semicraziness that she had had to fill with pills just to survive. She had crawled through that night as if it were a mine field.

"Is she here with you now?" He looked around but didn't see her.

"Yes, but she waited downstairs. She was afraid you'd feel awkward. And she figured we'd want to talk."

"Tell her I love her. And I'm glad you're not here alone. Jessie, I've been worried sick over you. Promise me you won't do anything crazy. Please. Promise." His eyes pleaded with her.

"I promise. Honest, darling. I'm okay." But she didn't look it. They both looked like hell. Ravaged, shocked, exhausted, and in Ian's case two days' growth of beard didn't help.

For half an hour they exchanged the disjointed banalities of people still in shock. Jessie stayed busy trying not to cry, and she managed not to until she rejoined Astrid downstairs. They were tears of anger and pain.

"They have him up there in a goddam cage like an animal!" And that damn woman was probably in her office, doing her job, living her life. She had got her revenge and now she could be happy. While Ian rotted in jail, and Jessie went crazy alone at night.

Astrid took her home, cooked her dinner, and waited until she was half asleep. It was an easier night for Jessie, mostly because she was too exhausted to torture herself thinking, to wander. She simply slept. And Astrid was back early the next morning with fresh strawberries, a copy of The New York Times and a brand new Women's Wear Daily as though that still mattered.

"Lady, what would I do without you?"

"Sleep later, probably. But I was up so I thought I'd come over." Jessie shook her head and hugged her friend as she poured two cups of tea. It was going to be a long haul, and Astrid was a godsend. It would be another twenty-seven days until the sentencing. And God only knew what would happen after that.

Jessie had the shop to think of too, but she wasn't ready to face that yet She managed it with increasingly rare phone calls and a great deal of faith in Katsuko. Astrid took her along to her own appointment with the hairdresser, more to keep an eye on her than anything else. Jessie could only see Ian twice a week, and there was a frightening aimlessness about her in the meantime. She'd start to say things and then forget them, take objects out of her handbag and then forget why she'd brought them out; she would listen to Astrid talk and look right through her as though she couldn't see or hear her. She wasn't making a great deal of sense. She looked the way she felt, like a lost child far from home hanging desperately to a new mother. Astrid. But without Ian nothing made any sense. Least of all living. And with no contact, it was hard to remind herself that he still existed. Astrid was just trying to keep her afloat until the next time she could see him.

There had been a small article on the back page of the paper the day after the verdict. But no one had called, only the two friends who had appeared for Ian in court. They were shocked by the news. Astrid took the calls and Jessica dropped them each a note. She didn't want to talk to anyone now.

On Monday she went back to work, and Zina and Katsuko were subdued. Kat had spotted the article, but hadn't mentioned it on the phone; she had wanted to wait until she could say something to Jessie in person. And she had known from the sound of her voice on the phone that Jessie didn't want them to know. It was a painful moment when she and Astrid walked into the shop. She read the knowledge at once in their faces, and Zina instantly had tears in her eyes. Jessie hugged them both.

Now the two girls knew why Houghton had come to the shop, why Jessie had been so frantic, why the Morgan was gone. They finally understood.

"Jessie, is there anything we can do?" Katsuko spoke for both of them.

"Only one thing. Don't talk about it after this. There's nothing I can say right now. Talking doesn't help."

"How's Ian?"

"He's surviving. That's about the best you can say."

"Do you have any idea what'll happen?" She shook her head and sat down quietly in her usual chair.

"Nope. No idea at all. Does that answer everybody's questions?" She looked at the two women's faces, and she already felt tired.

"Do you need any help at home, Jessie?" Zina had finally spoken up. "It must be lonely. And I don't live very far."

"Thanks, love. I'll let you know." She gave the girl a squeeze as she headed toward her office with Astrid at her heels. The last thing she wanted was to spend evenings with Zina commiserating. It would be worse than the terrors of being alone. She turned at the door to her office with a serious look on her face. "One thing, though. I'm not going to be around much for the next few weeks. I have things to do for Ian. People to see about the sentencing, and just a hell of a lot on my mind. I'll be here whenever I can, but you two count on carrying the ball for me. Like you've been doing. Okay?" Katsuko saluted and Jessie smiled. "Couple of nuts. It's nice to be back."

"What if I pitch in and help?" Astrid was looking at her with interest as she sat down at her desk.

"To tell you the truth, I need you more everywhere but the shop. Kat has this place under control. The real problem is me. Mornings, evenings, late nights ... you know." Astrid did know. She had seen Jessie's face at eight-thirty in the morning, and had heard her voice at two. It told a perfect tale of what the nights were like. The terror that daylight would never come again. That Ian would never come home. That the world would swallow her up and never spit her out. That Houghton would break down the door and rape her. Real fears and unreal fears, demons of her own making and men who weren't worthy of the name--all tangled together in her mind.

"Any idea what time you'll be through work? I'll pick you up. We can have dinner at my place tonight, if you feel up to it."

"You're too good to me." And it was amazing, considering how short a time they'd known each other. But Astrid knew what it was like. She had a healthy respect for what Jessica was going through.

Most of Jessica's efforts went toward Ian's sentencing. Twice she saw the probation officer detailed to the case, and she hounded Martin night and day. What was he doing? What did he have in mind? Had he spoken to the probation officer? What were the man's impressions? Should Martin talk to the man's superiors? She even went to speak to the judge one day at lunchtime. He was sympathetic, but didn't want to be pressured about the sentencing. Jessie had the distinct impression that had she been a little less ladylike the judge might have been a little less kind in his reception. As it was, he was not overly welcoming. She also collected letters from a number of discreet friends, testifying to Ian's good character. She even got a letter from his agent, hoping to show that Ian had to be free to complete the new book, and that going to prison would destroy his career.

Thanksgiving came and went like any other day. Or at least Jessica tried to ensure that it did. She treated it like any day when she wasn't working. She wouldn't allow herself to think of past Thanksgivings. She refused to let it be festive in any way. That would have been too much for her. She spent it with Astrid, and Ian spent it in jail. There was no visiting at the county jail on Thanksgiving Day. He ate stale chicken sandwiches and read a letter from Jessie. She ate steak with Astrid, who went out of her way to ignore the holiday this year, sacrificing a long weekend at the ranch with her mother. But the sacrifice was well worth it. She was worried about Jessie, who always seemed to move about in a haze now, stopping and starting, jangled, at one extreme or the other: fuzzy and full of pills, or wild from too much coffee.