Everlasting (31 page)

“What table service will you be using?”

Haley crossed to a teak hutch, took out a wooden plate, handed it to Catherine. The grain was beautifully striped, like a wild animal.

“The plates and bowls are zebrawood. From Africa. The glasses will be Mexican. Blue. Like the one in your hand. The napkins bleached burlap. The silver will be our own pattern from Tiffany’s. At least it’s plain.” Haley sounded as if she wished they could all eat with their fingers.

Catherine watched Haley carefully. She wasn’t kidding. Catherine couldn’t imagine dear gentle Kit with this Tarzanella.

Catherine turned. She walked up and down the long glass-and-chrome dining room table.

“There will be twenty for dinner,” Haley said.

“I see snakes,” Catherine said.

“What?” Haley’s eyes widened.

“Snakes,” Catherine repeated. She stretched out her hands toward the table. “Four terrariums down the length of the table. Live snakes inside. Harmless, of course, and with lids on the terrariums. Moss—no—grasses and straw and bamboo on the lids. Carrot and beet greens wound in and trailing to the table. Orange allium heads, very spiky, sticking out. Pebbles here and there. Ranunculus heads stuck here and there for color, harmonizing, of course, with the color of the snake inside. Or moss roses. Candles scented with Indian jasmine in your pottery holders.”

Haley looked at Catherine. Her blue eyes were as pure as truth. Catherine met Haley’s gaze.

“Snakes,” Haley said.

“I’ve never done them before. I’ve always wanted to. So colorful, you know, and then movement is always clever. I’ve done birds. It would give the table a rather … mysterious … wilderness … atmosphere.”

“Um. Yes. I see.”

Haley walked around the table, envisioning it as Catherine had described.

“Wonderful,” she said at last. “Brilliant. Of course you’ll come get the snakes after the party? The next morning?”

“Of course.” Catherine waited a beat, then said, “I’m afraid it will be rather expensive.…”

Haley shook her shining head. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Fine, then,” Catherine said. She raised the gimlet glass to her lips to hide her irrepressible smile.

Somehow Catherine made it through the next few minutes and back out to the street without exploding with laughter. Hurrying down Park Avenue toward Blooms, she began to giggle. Snakes. Poor Kit. Haley was actually rather wonderful in her own way, but she was also either slightly crazy or stupid. The giggles spiraled wider and wider, so that when she entered Blooms she leaned against the door and burst into such helpless laughter, she ended with tears running down her face.

The next day she went to a pet shop and picked out four snakes, each a little over one foot long. A bull snake of yellow brown with dark geometrical blotches. A slender grass snake of such emerald brilliance, even Catherine enjoyed looking at it. Two king snakes, one black with yellow rings, one with black, yellow, and scarlet rings.

“Want some baby mice or little toads for them to eat?” the pet owner asked.

Catherine declined.

Catherine hoped Kit might be at his apartment when she went to set up the flowers for the dinner party, but the only person she saw was the maid who let her in. “Those things can’t get out, now, you’re sure?” the woman asked Catherine nervously.

“I’m sure,” Catherine said. “Look. The lids are heavily weighted.”

“They give me the creeps. I’m afraid to be alone in the room with them, setting the table.”

“Try to think of them as living flowers. Moving colors,” Catherine said, knowing her words might be repeated to Haley Bemish. Secretly she felt pity for the maid and for Haley’s guests. The muscular coiling of the snakes seemed intestinal, repellent, unappetizing.

Catherine never went to collect flower containers anymore. It was the sort of thing the least-experienced, lowest-paid employee could do. But she wanted one more chance to see Kit, so she rose early the morning after Haley’s party and presented herself at the Bemishes’ apartment at eight-thirty, hoping Kit wouldn’t have left for work yet.

The maid with the starched cap admitted Catherine and Danny, one of her men, and led them to the dining room.

“I wouldn’t say your ‘flowers’ were a great success,” the maid said in a matter-of-fact voice.

Catherine hid a smile. “Shall I leave the flowers and grasses on the table? Or shall I take them?”

“Mrs. Bemish didn’t say. She’s not up yet. I’ll ask Mr. Bemish.” The maid disappeared.

Catherine’s heart jumped.

“Danny, take those terrariums down to the van. You can carry two at a time, I think. Don’t drop them.”

As Danny turned and left the dining room, Kit came in.

He stood just inside the doorway, looking at Catherine. He was in suit pants, a striped shirt, and socks. His tie was draped around his neck but not tied. Obviously he had just shaved, for his face had a ruddy, smooth glow. The image of him bare-chested, shaving, hit Catherine deep in her stomach. He was thirty-two and had a few lines at his eyes and a hardness to his jawline that made him look not older, but more masculine.

“Hello, Kit,” she said.

He nodded in reply.

“I asked your maid whether you and Haley wanted us to leave these flowers and grasses or take them with us. I know she wanted me to take the terrariums and snakes.”

“Leave the flowers, I suppose.”

“How did everyone like the arrangement?”

“Not much, since you ask. It made the meal very tense. One of the women couldn’t eat. She was almost paralyzed with fear.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I doubt it. I have a feeling you were making fun of Haley. Having a joke at her expense.” His eyes were wood catching fire.

“Your wife wanted something I’ve never done before. Something unusual—”

“She is serious about her interests and tastes—”

“So am I! I didn’t get successful by making fun of my clients.”

“I’m surprised you have any clients, if this is your idea of something exotic—”

“Excuse me, sir.” Danny was back for the second two terrariums. He slipped past Kit, widening his eyes in consternation at Catherine.

Catherine turned her back on Kit and bent over the table. Her shaking hands made the bamboo and grasses rustle loudly against each other.

“Danny, take these on down to the van. I’ll rearrange the flowers on the table and be with you in a minute.”

Danny hefted the two heavy terrariums and, ducking his head at Kit, headed out.

She felt the heat of Kit’s body when he came to stand next to her.

“Catherine. How are you?”

Catherine straightened. She turned to look at him. He was close enough to kiss. After all these years, she knew she still loved him. His heat was like a signal, like the sun.

“I’m fine,” she said, smiling. “And I’m still in love with you.”

“Jesus Christ, Catherine,” Kit said softly.

“I’ll let your wife do the rest,” Catherine said coolly, for the maid had entered the room. Catherine moved away from Kit. “I would suggest putting the flowers in shallow bowls of water. They’ll float and last quite prettily for a few days. Without water, they’ll wilt today. Also, the ranunculus—these—are fragile.” She looked at Kit. “I’ll be glad to put them in a bowl for you.”

“That’s all right, Catherine,” Kit said. He was in control again, aware the maid was watching them. “I’ll tell Haley. Thanks.”

“Thank you, Kit. And here’s my card, if you and your wife would like to have me work for you again.” Catherine went out the door.

* * *

H
e called her at Blooms that evening.

“Look,” he said, “I’d like to see you. To talk things over. To hear how you’ve been.”

“Come here now.”

“I can’t. I’m rushing. I told Haley I was just out for cigarettes.”

“Tomorrow. Whenever. Wherever.”

The urgency in her voice made him cautious. “This is just to talk. To—renew a friendship. That’s all, Catherine.”

“Of course,” she said, knowing he couldn’t see her smile.

* * *

S
he left work early the next afternoon. So did Kit. They met at the tiny Bemelman’s bar at the Carlyle. Catherine was purposely late. She was wearing a minidress of deep red wool, long-sleeved, severely straight. It looked businesslike, but in fact she knew when she walked the lines of her body moving the fabric were more seductive than many more obvious dresses. There was a flower made of white handkerchief linen on the shoulder.

She slid onto a chair across from him. He ordered martinis for both of them.

“Kit, I have a confession to make. I didn’t think of the snakes to make fun of Haley. But I did think of them because I was angry at her. For being married to you.”

Kit smiled. “Haley loved the snakes. She prefers almost any animal to humans. She grew up with her father, who’s a naturalist. Spent most of her life outdoors. In many ways she’s very innocent.”

“Unlike others we could name,” Catherine said, sipping her martini.

“What does that mean?”

“I’ll tell you sometime—if we ‘renew our friendship’ enough.”

“Catherine—”

Catherine erased the mischief from her eyes. “All right, Kit, I’ll be good. Tell me. What are you doing in New York?”

“Working for Woodrow and Spiegel. I’m just another corporate lawyer now, Cathy. No politics for me. These aren’t especially idealistic times we live in.”

“You’ve given up on the idea of entering politics?”

“Cathy, I don’t even know where I stand on Vietnam. My father’s a Republican. He fought in World War Two. I admire him. I can never believe his beliefs are wrong. On the other hand, I hate this war. If I can’t decide in my own heart how I stand on such matters, how would I dare try to lead other people?”

“You’re still so idealistic.”

“I don’t think so. At any rate, I got tired.” Kit leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Haley prefers New York to Boston. It was easy enough to get hooked up with a firm here.”

“Do you like the work you’re doing?”

“Not much. It’s cut and dried. Boring. But I don’t think about it when I try to sleep at night.”

“What do you think about?”

Kit grinned. “I suppose you think I’ll say ‘you.’ ”

“Only if it’s true. God knows I’ve spent a few nights thinking about you.” She wanted him too much to save her pride. She reached over and put her hand on his. The touch was electric.

Kit shook his head. “No, Cathy.”

“Do you love her?” She didn’t move her hand. He didn’t take his hand away. “Catherine—”

“Do you?”

“She’s my wife.”

“Because if you love her, you should leave right now. But if there’s any chance you want to go to bed with me, then please, Kit, go to bed with me. I’m not asking for anything more than that. Just come home with me tonight. Or any night.”

Kit took his hand away from hers. He rose.

“I’m sorry, Catherine,” he said, walking away.

* * *

S
he knew he would call her. That one touch of her hand on his told her more than his words ever could. She knew, had always known, instinctively, what Kit needed, and it wasn’t the crisp, brittle life Haley was giving him. Her memories and dreams were strong enough to carry her for an entire week. Kit lasted that long. Then he called her again.

T
his time he came to her apartment in the afternoon. This time he didn’t stop to talk. He came in the door and took her in his arms.

They went into her bedroom. Catherine was crying. Kit kissed her mouth, her neck, her breasts, her tears. He had the face of a Puritan, but he had the eyes of an idolater. She pulled him down on top of her. Their bodies closed together, and all the years they’d lost vanished. It was a coming home for both of them, and for a long while they did not move but simply lay together, Kit hard and large inside her, Catherine’s legs twined around his, her hands stroking the lovely stretch of his back, their eyes closed, their breathing warm and steady against each other’s cheeks.

Catherine was crying quietly. Kit raised himself up on his arms, and looking down at her, he began to move slowly inside her. She raised her head and looked down where their bodies joined and parted. Kit watched the rising blood flush her throat and breasts; they permitted each other to hide nothing. They looked at each other until they came, when sensation united them in shuddering elation. When he fell against her, she sank her teeth into his shoulder.

Afterward, Kit held Catherine against him, not speaking, until it was time for him to go. He told her he would be back, and she knew he would.

* * *

W
hen he returned two nights later, he told her that Haley had gone down to Virginia to see a friend’s new thoroughbred. He could spend three whole nights with her. But after that, he had to break it off with Catherine. He shouldn’t have let all this get started in the first place. He hated himself.

“Hate yourself later. Come to bed now,” Catherine said.

They both had Sunday off. They spent the day making love, sleeping, and eating. He brought her breakfast in bed. She brought him champagne. The next two days they had to work, so they met after work at a French restaurant tucked away on East Eighty-third. It was almost a relief to be in public. They were forced to keep their hands off each other. Catherine could tell how Kit enjoyed her company. She made him laugh. Catherine told him about Blooms, about putting Ann through Miss Brill’s and college, and about her grandmother and the British Everly. Kit told her about his work, his new sailboat up in Maine, where he and Haley were building a summer house on a piece of land his parents had given them.

* * *

T
he third night together, they made love, then lay curled against each other. Catherine’s back was pressed against Kit’s stomach. When he spoke, she felt his warm breath in her hair.

“I thought you’d be married by now.”

“I’ve met some interesting men, but they all want the same thing—a nice wife, mommy, and social secretary all rolled into one. I’d go mad. But you know the real reason—I’ve never stopped loving you.”