Sins of Omission (65 page)

“Reuben, tell me honestly, did you choose all of this or did you have help? Everything is so perfectly coordinated, right down to the alabaster ashtrays. And wherever did you get salmon-colored roses?” she asked breathlessly, referring to an impressive bouquet in a cut-crystal vase on a polished cherrywood table.

Reuben glowed with pride as he gently stroked Rosemary's sweet-smelling hair. “I remembered your telling me which were your favorite colors…and…I stressed comfort and relaxed elegance to the decorator.”

There was no need for Rosemary to know the decorator had at first turned up his nose in disdain at the small house; the offer of a bonus had miraculously restored the man's interest in taking on such a “challenge.” “I hope everything reflects you, Rosemary. If there's anything you want changed, it's all right with me.”

“Nothing. It's perfect, Reuben! I couldn't imagine wanting to change one thing. Thank-you seems so inadequate,” Rosemary said fervently, “but it's all I can say. Let's stay home and savor all of this. Max won't mind if we don't go to the Lily Garden, will he?”

Reuben smiled. “I'll call him. I was hoping you'd say we should stay home. I can't tell you how glad I am, Ro, that you feel the same way.”

“You sit right here,” Rosemary said. She headed for the radio and searched until she found a station playing soft, restful music. When she returned to him, she dropped to her knees and untied his shoes. “I want you to put your feet up on this nice new table. Someone should look at this copy of
Life
magazine.” She planted a tender kiss on Reuben's cheek.

He smiled up at her and brought her hand to his lips. “It feels so good to be here, so right.”

“For me, too,” she said gently. “I'll see about dinner, but first I want to change my clothes. Read, take a nap. I'll wake you when it's time to eat.”

Reuben idly leafed through the magazine. He did feel good—very good, as a matter of fact. Tonight…

Frustrated with his new surroundings and a mistress who was ignoring him, Bismarck leapt onto Reuben's lap. Seconds later Napoleon settled himself at Reuben's side. Both cats purred contentedly. Reuben was familiar; Reuben was very good at tickling ears.

Rosemary tiptoed down the stairs and stood for a moment observing Reuben and her cats. She smiled happily. Her life was on an even keel, and tonight would mark the beginning of a new phase in her relationship with Reuben. The sheets had gone on in the blink of an eye. At the last second before pulling up the chenille bedspread, she'd dropped a few beads of perfume on the pillowcases. Her nightie lay in readiness. Tonight, Reuben, she thought, I am going to seduce you, first with food and then with my body.

 

“Dinner,” Reuben said, “was delightful.” He'd had too much champagne, and so had Rosemary. The delicate omelets stuffed with wild mushrooms and onions and topped with a whipped cheese sauce had been a light, satisfying repast, the scalloped potatoes that accompanied them so savory he'd had three helpings. Reuben's eyes had popped at the fragrant surprise of a dish of honey-baked apples when Rosemary had reappeared from the kitchen.

Now they were in the tiny garden with their coffee, staring up at the twinkling stars. “Do you think the stars look the same all over the world?” Rosemary asked curiously.

Reuben's contented mood seemed to shatter. How often, when out walking after dinner at the château, had he wondered the same thing? He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Rosemary immediately picked up on his change of mood. “Let's each make a wish, Reuben. I know it isn't the first star of the night, but we can do it anyway. And…I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” She smiled. “Wishes are for the child in all of us, don't you think?”

Reuben's jaw hardened. Bebe had done the same thing to him years before, and he'd wished…He gave himself a mental shake. No one—not Mickey or Bebe—must be allowed to spoil this evening for him. He deserved this; he wanted it more than anything. This was his time. “All right. who goes first?” he said, smiling at her in the darkness.

“I will. I wish that our lives will always be this good, this gratifying. I wish…I hope I'm never a disappointment to you,” Rosemary said shyly.

“That's two wishes. You could never disappoint me, so let's concentrate on your first wish. I think we have an excellent chance at it, since I wished exactly the same thing.”

“Reuben?…”

“Yes?”

Rosemary rose from her chair and pulled Reuben to his feet, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “Let's go upstairs…to bed. I want you to make love to me.”

He wanted to, more than anything in the world, and by God he would or he'd die trying! Desire surged through him like a river gone wild. He scooped Rosemary into his arms, kicked at the screen door with his foot, and shouldered it open. She was light as a feather in his arms, and he swore he could hear her heart beating next to his own. In the kitchen light he was shocked at the smoldering look in her eyes. Gazing at her, he drew in a deep ragged breath, his own eyes taking on a light of their own.

Beyond her bedroom door Reuben set Rosemary on her feet and drew the length of her body close to his. The silence between them seemed more eloquent than words. Rosemary drew in her breath and felt Reuben tense at the sound. He, too, seemed to have trouble with his breathing. She was conscious of his height, of his nearness, of his maleness. His arms cupped her to him, making her tingle with a pleasurable yearning. In the soft glow of the lamp Rosemary offered her lips to his. His mouth became a part of hers, and her heart beat in a wild, untamed broken rhythm.

Reuben kissed her eyes, her mouth, her cheeks, the hollow of her throat, and she felt a raging fire engulf her as she burrowed her head against his chest. It made no difference that he belonged to another woman; she wanted him, needed him. She moaned softly as his mouth again crashed down on hers in a savage, unrestrained kiss of passion. The banked fires began to smolder and burst into flame as she felt his searching hands explore her body through her clothing. His touch was scorching, searing, as her own hands ceased to tremble and she caressed his face and ran her fingers through his hair. Moan after moan escaped her as she strained against him, her mouth mingling with his, her tongue searching, darting, to conquer his.

Within moments their clothing lay in a heap on the downy carpet. In the soft shadows of the night Reuben drew in his breath in a ragged gasp as his eyes beheld Rosemary's glistening body. His face was inscrutable in the faint glimmer, but his gaze was almost tangible; she felt it reach her, touch her, and was aware of the all-consuming fire that raged through her.

Her response was unwavering as she stared deep into his dark eyes, hypnotized by them as she felt his mouth melt into hers. Her body took on a will of its own as Reuben caressed and explored every inch of her. Instinctively she moved to the rhythm he initiated and felt him respond to her in a way she had never dreamed possible. Searing flames licked at her body as she sought to quench the blazing inferno that engulfed her. He kissed her earlobes, her eyes, her moistened mouth, murmuring tender words of love as his hands traveled down the length of her, arousing, teasing her, until her breath came in short gasps and her body writhed beneath his touch.

Her flesh grew warm and taut beneath him as he pressed her down onto the softness of the bed. His hungry mouth worshiped her, tracing moist patterns on her creamy skin. His dark head moved lower, to graze the firmness of her belly, then lower still to the silky smoothness between her legs. He parted her legs with his knees and felt her respond to him, arching her back to receive him. Her parted lips were a flame that met his raging, tumultuous mouth. She welcomed him, accepted him, his hardness, his leanness, his very maleness, as he drove into her, straining against his hard, muscular chest, responding to his passion with an urgency that demanded release. The unquenchable heat that was soaring through her beat in her veins, threatening to crescendo into a raging inferno.

He lay upon her, commanding her response as she offered it, rocking beneath him, exulting in her own femininity as she caressed his broad back. The sound of her own heart thundered in her ears—or was it Reuben's that beat and roared about them?

Gasping, she opened herself to him, and the searing, scorching aching erupted within her, consuming her in an explosion that matched his own.

 

Reuben opened one eye lazily and gazed at Rosemary; her long-lashed lids remained closed, her breathing slow and regular. Sensing his gaze, she opened her eyes and smiled at him. Words were unnecessary. Reuben slept then, his dark head cradled against her breast. Rosemary lay quiet, body and mind at peace. How vulnerable he looks in sleep, she thought. Defenseless, almost like a child. A truly compassionate man. She was so glad she was seeing this side of the famous man, her man now. Content, she raised her eyes and looked at the bright shaft of moonlight. It was all so perfect. She stirred slightly, and the sweet smell of perfume teased her nostrils. The slight stirring of her body caused Reuben to tighten his hold on her, and he sighed contentedly in his sleep.

Later, when Rosemary's breathing was again deep and regular, Reuben opened his eyes and stared overhead at the moonlight filtering through the high bedroom windows. Yes, he remembered the feel of her lips on his eyelids…. She'd thought him asleep when she'd done that, and when she'd traced the line of his mouth and nose with gentle fingers. No one had ever moved him in quite this way. It confused him; he hadn't bedded enough women to understand what he was feeling now.
Liar!
his mind screamed.
Mickey moved you, moved you to heartbreaking tears.
Rosemary had been tender, the way a mother would caress her infant.

Goddammit, he didn't want a mother in his bed! He needed a woman. Christ, Reuben, what have you done!

Theirs was an easy, comfortable relationship. In its own way it was sexual as well as satisfying, but Reuben knew there was something missing, that elusive feeling, that wonderful intoxicating breathlessness he had experienced with Mickey. But for now this would have to sustain him.

It was almost a year into his relationship with Rosemary when Reuben began to wonder why his affair with her never made the gossip columns. While none of his peers were privy to his private life, the industry had in some way decided to protect their own. All of Hollywood was aware of Bebe Tarz's long absences and her life-style, just as they were aware of Reuben's sedate, consistent workaholic regimen. General consensus decreed that if he had found happiness, he deserved to enjoy it. Besides, Reuben never flaunted it in anyone's face. It was easy to give a seal of approval because he was less demanding now; he smiled and was more generous in his dealings with business associates. If there was even a whisper of scandal, the studio's publicity heavyweights squelched it immediately. And when they closed their ranks, nothing could filter through. In no way did Reuben lose the high regard and admiration of those he worked with. He had consistently come up with cinematic winners, and this affair seemed only to accelerate his successes. After all, he was Reuben Tarz, powerful, respected, professionally infallible, the Wonder Boy, the Golden Boy of Hollywood. For years now he had made a lot of people a lot of money.

In early April of the third year of Reuben and Rosemary's affair, two things happened that turned Reuben's world upside down. Rosemary announced she was two months pregnant, and Bebe returned from a trip to Canada in the same condition.

Reuben sat in his office; the air seemed stale and stagnant. Stiffly he rose from his aged leather chair and walked to his window throwing it open to breathe deeply of the fresh night air. It didn't help. As if sleepwalking, he returned to his chair and replayed the scenario of the last twenty-four hours over and over in his mind.

Why hadn't he shown more happiness, some delight at Rosemary's news? Instead, he'd let shock register on his face. Rosemary had backed down immediately, stammering something about the unexpectedness of it all. Then she'd apologized and cried while he'd sat there like a bump on a log, unsure of what to say. In the end he said all the right things, that he'd file for divorce and marry her. He'd thought that was what she wanted to hear, but instead she'd gotten angry. “If you'd wanted to marry me, you'd have done it sooner!” she cried. Now she didn't want him to marry her at all—she'd have the baby herself, she said. No begrudged piece of paper would change anything. Besides, it was too late to make the child legitimate anyway. She'd asked him to leave then, something she'd never done before.

He'd gone home in a daze to find Bebe sitting on the terrace, a drink in one hand and reefer in the other. What was it she had said? “I'm home, darling, this time to stay. You'll have to dump that little slut you're keeping. You see, I'm pregnant, and my baby is going to need your name.”

Stupefied, he'd turned on his heel and gone to the office.

“My God,” he blurted out, “now what am I going to do?”

Reuben stood under the blanket of stars, staring at the empty studio lot. It was ghostly at this late hour, all the make-believe and fantasy locked up behind stout steel doors. During the day so much went on here that someone could get lost for hours on end. But once playtime was over, the make-believe characters went home, as did the employees in the front offices. Aside from four night guards, Reuben knew he was the only person on the entire lot.

Part of him wanted to return to Rosemary and part of him wanted to stay where he was to try to fathom what was happening to him. The one place he wanted to avoid, and knew he couldn't, was his house in Laurel Canyon. How could so much happen in so short a time? Rosemary pregnant with his child. Lovely, sweet Rosemary carrying his son or daughter. He'd never seen her angry or upset. She'd wanted his…what? His blessing? Or did she want his face to light up the way it worked in the movies when a blushing bride of three months announced her pregnancy to the delight of her new husband? A baby was simply not part of his plans. Rosemary knew that; they'd spoken of it often enough. He'd trusted her when she'd said the Catholic method of birth control was safe. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder if this child was meant to trap him into marriage. His disillusionment was so total and all-consuming, he wanted to strike out at something, anything, just to vent his frustration.

Marriage to Rosemary had never been his intention. Obviously Rosemary hadn't accepted that, although he thought he'd made it clear. He liked her, even loved her, but he wasn't in love with her, and that made all the difference and explained what he was feeling now.

Choices. Did he have choices? Did he
want
choices? No, he decided, he didn't. But the honorable thing to do would be to divorce Bebe and marry Rosemary and be a father to her child. Their child. But what of Bebe?

Bebe was pregnant with another man's child, yet she expected him to accept that fact and carry on as though it were his own. “Goddammit, Bebe,” he cried aloud, “you expect too fucking much of me! How long are you going to make me pay?”

Reuben's shoulders slumped. How was it possible that two women, as different as night and day, could bring him to his knees like this? His life had been so peaceful, so simple, when he'd lived with Mickey in France.

Christ, he was tired. He had to go home and try to get some sleep; he was going to need his wits about him in the morning when he talked to Bebe. Yet he made no move to leave his position atop a buckboard outside Lot 6. Instead, he pulled out his pocket watch and stared down at the numbers. Three o'clock. Daniel, always an early riser would be up—it was only a three-hour time difference. Daniel always talked common sense and was never judgmental where he was concerned. He might not have the answers, but he would sort through things with his analytical mind. The thought made Reuben feel much better; he hopped down from the buckboard and headed for his car.

The house at the end of the long, curving driveway was ablaze with light. Evidently Bebe was still awake. Waiting for him, probably. His stomach churned. Maybe it was better to get it over with now.

 

Bebe was on the terrace, waiting for Reuben with a half-eaten tuna fish sandwich and a glass of lemonade at her elbow. She wanted a drink so badly, her hands trembled, but she'd made up her mind to wait for her husband and she didn't want him to see her drunk.

Her life was such a shambles, and she seemed incapable of doing anything about it. This pregnancy was so unexpected, and the man…if he knew, which he didn't, would want to do the honorable thing and marry her. Charles Lefuer was a nice man—a stable, solid banker living in Montreal. Best of all, he'd made wonderful, exciting love to her, and for a little while she'd been able to lose herself in his arms. But when she woke in the morning her thoughts always returned to Reuben…her first love, her only love.

Aside from the initial shock of discovering her pregnancy, she'd felt a certain amount of relief that she could at last return to California and Reuben. He wasn't going to like her news, but it would necessitate a certain amount of communication, something she hungered for. He might even be compassionate.

She gagged on the lemonade she was trying to swallow, remembering how she'd felt when, minutes after her return from Canada, Eli had whisked her to his car and told her in a gentle voice about “Reuben's woman.” Which had stunned her more, she wondered—her brother's unexpected tone of voice or his actual words? According to Eli,
everyone
knew about Rosemary; Reuben practically lived with her. He'd gone on to tell her the story of the red ribbon on Rosemary's house, and she'd wept then, her soul full of sorrow. She would have died for a gift-wrapped present from Reuben.

Now she struggled with herself to be angry with Reuben, but it wasn't working. For God's sake, why was she hanging on to a man who didn't want her? “Because,” she whispered, “he's the only man I have ever loved or will love. This little bit that I have is better than nothing.” She wept as she always did when thoughts of Reuben carried her this far in her soul-searching. Inevitably, then, she thought of John Paul, fanta-sizing about telling Reuben, about traveling to France with her husband in search of their son, about how they'd welcome him with open arms and declare their love for each other. Eli said it was a pipe dream and told her to stop torturing herself, because Reuben would not be forgiving and, if possible, would hate her even more. She always felt sick to her stomach after she talked to Eli because he spoke the truth.

Reuben didn't love Rosemary, that much she knew. He might be enamored and infatuated, but his heart belonged to someone else. Reuben loved Mickey and would always love Mickey. The woman hadn't been born who could make his eyes light with that special look, and his warm smile would never be directed at anyone but Mickey. She'd stopped fooling herself years before. The part of Reuben she wanted and needed was buried back in France, lost to her as John Paul was lost to her.

Bebe jerked her head upright at the sound of Reuben's car. He was opening the front door, striding through the foyer to the kitchen and out to the terrace. Her back was to him, and she didn't need to hear his footsteps to know he was almost upon her. “Good evening, Reuben,” she said quietly.

Reuben stared at his wife coldly, as though she were an intruder—which, to him, was just what she was. “I assume you've waited up to talk with me, although I can't imagine that there's anything more to be said.”

Bebe smiled. “I'm sure you must be having some difficulty with what I told you last night. First of all, you should know that the father—Charles—is a fine man, a banker in Geneva. He was someone…I need…Well, it doesn't matter what I need, you were interested in my needs only if they fulfilled yours,” she said without rancor. “I consulted two doctors before I came home and both confirmed my pregnancy. I didn't tell Charles because I don't love him, and I could see no reason to upset his life. I plan on staying here now, in…our house. The way I see it, you have two choices. You can divorce me and marry Rosemary—Oh, yes, I know all about her. Eli told me when he picked me up. Or you can send Rosemary packing and return home. Of course, it will be the same kind of marriage we had before, but you will be home with me during this pregnancy. If you had been a proper husband, I wouldn't have had to go looking somewhere else for what I need, just as you went somewhere else.” How tortured he looked, how woebegone. Bebe's heart thumped in her chest.

“Of course, you realize that if you leave me, you're out of the studio. You'll have to look for a job somewhere else. Now, I plan on sleeping late in the morning, so why don't we have lunch together on the terrace tomorrow and discuss this further?”

“Bebe, it's not as cut and dried as you think. Rosemary…Rosemary is pregnant.”

Bebe thought her heart stopped for a second as she attempted to digest Reuben's words. “All that and a house wrapped in a big red bow,” she muttered. She laughed, a harsh, bitter sound, then rose and walked upstairs to her room. Only then, with the door closed, did she let the tears flow. Reuben, Reuben, what fools we are! she cried silently.

The following day Bebe dressed carefully in a rainbow-colored dress with a wide sash belt. She wanted to have something to play with to calm her trembling hands. It wouldn't do for Reuben to see her in anything but a position of control. When she walked onto the terrace, Reuben was already at the glass-topped table. She took her seat opposite her husband, fixed him with a steady gaze, and waited.

For the first time in his life Reuben felt like a trapped animal, unsure of which way he should move to escape the snare. Clearly Bebe was waiting for him to say something, to make a suggestion. He was just as sure that she already had his decision mapped out for him; he would stay with her because of the studio.

His stomach churning, he shoved his lunch plate away from him. “I need more time to come…to decide what I want to do. You can't flounce back here and expect me to bail you out again. I've made a life for myself, Bebe. In a million years I never would have believed that both of us…” He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “You're pregnant, and I'm in the same…It's a problem. Are there any other conditions you haven't mentioned?” he asked dryly.

“Only one,” Bebe said just as dryly.

Reuben clenched his teeth. “What is it?”

“As of tomorrow Rosemary is just a memory in your life. I expect you'll want to use the remainder of the day to…to make provisions for the child. For Rosemary, too. A woman can't work and raise a child at the same time. I want you to be generous. I also want your word the affair is over and that you'll make no attempt to see Rosemary after today. I'll know if you do. Now, you had all night and all morning to think about this. I want you to know that I was serious about the divorce. If you want one, I won't contest it, but you're out of the studio.”

Reuben stood up, his eyes narrowed, his jaw jutting forward. “Very well, you win.”

“Sit down, Reuben,” Bebe commanded in a steely voice. “I'm not winning anything. In case you haven't noticed, we are both losers. Your days of heaping guilt on my shoulders are over. We both made a mistake. I can and will live with mine, and you will have to live with yours. No dirty games, Reuben. If you so much as blink in that woman's direction, you will be history as far as the studio goes. Just think, you'll be able to say you gave up the love of a fine woman for power and wealth. Mickey would be so proud of you!”

Reuben's hand lashed out before he could stop to think. The welt on his wife's cheek stunned him. He hadn't held back, either.

“Is this going to be a repeat of our rape scenes?” Bebe said coldly. “If so, tell me now and I'll take off my clothes to make it easy for you.”

“You never know when to leave well enough alone, do you? I said I agreed, and I'm a man of my word. I'm sorry I slapped you. There's no excuse in the world for a man to strike a woman.”

“Go to hell, Reuben!” Bebe snarled as she marched from the terrace. “Go straight to hell!”

Reuben was in a frenzy as he waited for Daniel to come to the phone. He'd been trying to reach his friend all morning. His foot tapped, his fingers drummed, and his head buzzed with Bebe's demands. Daniel would know what to do.

“Reuben! It's good to hear from you! How are things in California?”

How wonderful Daniel sounded. Reuben calmed immediately. “I need to talk, Daniel, do you have the time?”

“I'll make the time. What's wrong?” Daniel asked worriedly. He listened, his mouth dropping as Reuben's story progressed.

“I‘m not in a very good position, Daniel. I gave Bebe my word. I care for Rosemary. I didn't know until yesterday that she…She probably always expected marriage. I can't get it out of my head that she trapped me somehow. I have to make…Daniel…”

“I can't tell you what to do, Reuben. Sounds to me like you made up your own mind and that you made it up before Bebe made her demands. You feel like you've been taken, is that it?”

“Pretty much so. Jesus, Bebe waltzes back into the house pregnant and not a remorseful bone in her body, and tells me what to do. I'm doing it, too!” Reuben cried angrily.

“Hey, pal, don't take it out on me. The first thing you have to do is be honest with yourself. You're doing this for the studio. You don't want to lose it. Bebe will make good on her threat, that much I know. It's not the end of the world, buddy. You had something few of us get; you had your cake and you got to eat it, too. When it's time to pay you have to pay, no one else is going to pick up the tab. I may be wrong, and it's only because we've been friends for so long that I'm going to say this. I don't think you were in love with Rosemary. I think you were in love with the idea of love. You were searching and have been searching for that same feeling you had for Mickey. But you get that only once. Now, tell me what you want me to do.”

“A check once a month. An adequate amount. A letter explaining that I will fund the child's education, all medical bills, and a certain amount, whatever you think is right, into a fund for his future. Don't stint, Daniel. I'll tell her all of this myself, but I also want her to have something legal. I paid off the mortgage on her house, so she's all set in that respect. She should have a car once the baby comes. Make a provision for that. And anything else you can think of.”

“I'll take care of it. Should I send the papers on to you or to…Rosemary?”

“To me and then I'll mail them to her. Don't forget the doctor and midwife. I want her well taken care of.”

“Are you all right, Reuben?” Daniel asked. “Do you want me to come out there?”

“I can hold my own hand, but thanks for the offer. I feel like a fool.”