In Name Only (7 page)

"White?"

Jill shrugged. "It's very informal."

And then she saw it, a soft dress of peach silk crepe de chine with delicate bouquets on it of red, white and teal.

"That's the one," she said promptly. "It's been waiting for me."

The saleslady gave her an odd look. "That just came in this morning. The buyer thought of it as a bridesmaid's dress."

"I'll try it on."

"It's unusual for the bride," the saleslady said.

Jill headed for the dressing room. It was to be an unusual wedding, to say the least.

Late Thursday evening, Mrs. Hughes summoned Jill to the phone. She looked like the cat that swallowed the canary; but refused to divulge the caller's name.

Derek! Jill picked up the phone reluctantly, almost tempted to disconnect, but she could not. "Hello?" she asked in a soft, hesitant manner.

"Shopping all finished?"

For a moment she did not recognize the voice, and then it came to her. "Simon?" It occurred to her that she had spoken his name but once before.

"Did you expect someone else?"

"N—no." Everything about him, or even pertaining to him seemed to make her stutter. "Where are you calling from?"

"My hotel. New York. All ready for the big event?"

"I think so."

"Packed?"

"I'm doing that now."

"Good. I spoke with Jay. He has your passport, the works. He'll pick you up first thing in the morning, nine o'clock and then drive out to the airport. I expect to be in by nine-thirty. It's snowing there I heard. How is it?"

"Pretty heavy."

"Well, I hope the runways are cleared by morning."

"I hope so, too." She felt tongue-tied, unable to think of a bright thing to say.

"You have everything?"

"I think so."

"Good. Are you feeling all right?"

"Fine," she said.

"Not scared?"

"Scared?" She managed a slight laugh. "No. Should I be?"

It was his turn to laugh. "No, maybe I should be."

She could think of nothing to say.

"Well," he went on, after waiting a moment, "See you tomorrow."

"Okay." She felt acutely uncomfortable, although she couldn't say why. Perhaps his voice, intimate and soft, frightened her. She had the strange feeling that she expected him to say something romantic, or even that he was looking forward to seeing her. She heard the disconnect and replaced the receiver slowly.

Mrs. Hughes peered at her from the parlor. In the background she heard the sound of the television set. Jill gave her a big smile as she passed the room on her way back. "Thanks, Mrs. Hughes." She had asked the landlady to be a witness at the wedding ceremony; Jay Wilhelm would be the other. She thought as she walked down the hallway, that their conversation had been hardly the kind that lovers should have had.

Theirs would be a queer sort of marriage, he patronizing, treating her like a child; she, knowing but afraid to face it, that from the moment she had looked at him, had surveyed his broad back as he stood at the window in the parlor on Tuesday morning, she had, quite simply, fallen in love.

She locked herself in her room. He can't even begin to love me, she told herself. He's worldly, traveled; he's been everywhere, done everything. I'm simply a little piece of flotsam he's picked up on the Chicago shore because he cared for my uncle. And he's stuck with me. It must be a pretty bitter pill to swallow. To protect my uncle's fortune, to protect me from myself, he's had to do what Wilhelm said he's resisted doing before. He's had to marry.

It snowed through the night but let up early Friday morning. The snow lay in thick drifts along the highway, and the plows were slow getting through. Wilhelm picked Jill up in the limousine late, and by the time they arrived at the airport, the plane had landed on the freshly plowed field. The snow had begun to fall once again.

The limousine pulled up near the entrance canopy to the Pan Am building.

"I'll get him," Jill said, jumping quickly out. Whatever there was, or wasn't, between them, she was going to act a proper fiancée who hadn't seen her lover for almost a week. The snow was falling heavily now. Simon Todd was waiting, under the canopy, his beige raincoat collar pulled up around his ears, and hatless. He saw her and ran toward her, enclosing her in his arms as the snow fell and swirled around them.

The thought came to her as he put his lips against hers, that he was acting, too, for Jay Wilhelm's benefit, but the thought was obliterated by his hungry kiss, by the way he gathered her close, pressing his body against hers, as if trying to erase all the accoutrements of civilization between them, her heavy coat, his raincoat and even the snowflakes that threatened to smother them. He released her suddenly, as if coming to his senses, and taking her by the hand, led her quickly back to the car.

Once inside, he shook hands with Wilhelm, and sitting back against the seat, put his arm squarely about Jill's shoulders and held her close.

"Looks as if you made it just in time," said Wilhelm, beaming.

Simon turned to Jill and cupped her face in his hand. "Red cheeks, red nose, an exotic flower about to freeze to death." He pulled her cap off and her hair cascaded down. "Your bridal gown under all that?" He regarded her shabby coat with amusement and then turned to Wilhelm. "Didn't you tell her to buy some clothes? Where's the fur coat?"

"I don't believe in wearing the skins of animals," Jill said, the first words she had spoken to him. "And anyway, it's warm in Manaus."

"That never stopped anyone before."

Wilhelm rubbed his hands together. "Well, everything's in apple pie order."

"Mrs. Hughes has agreed to be a witness," Jill told Simon. "I ordered a taxi for her. We'll meet at City Hall."

"Very efficient, indeed," Simon said. "What else have you accomplished?"

"I'm here," she told him coolly.

"Very efficient," Wilhelm echoed pleasantly. "How did you two meet anyway?" He seemed willing as the car made its way out of the airport, to be treated to a long story.

Simon hesitated before answering. He tightened his grip on Jill's shoulders, as if reminding her to be silent.

"It's complicated," he said at last. "As complicated as love at first sight can be, anyway."

"Oh, well," said Wilhelm, "I've heard of those things, but never believed they really happened." Then he launched into an endless story of how he had met his wife, about which Jill heard not a word. Locked in Simon's powerful grip, she felt turned to jelly. A series of small explosions seemed to have been set off, in her mind, her body, her heart. She stole a glance at Simon, but his face was rigid. He seemed to be concentrating wholly upon the story, yet there was no way of telling for certain.

Love at first sight. The words ran in her ears. Did he mean it, or was he a consummate liar? She had no way of knowing.

"Well you look very beautiful," Simon stated with unconcealed admiration. Jill had changed from her boots to peach, high-heeled sandals in the corridor outside the judge's chambers where they were to be married. And she now stood before him, holding a small bouquet of pale roses given to her by Mrs. Hughes.

Simon was dressed handsomely in a double-breasted pinstripe suit, a slim, pale tie against a blue shirt giving him a worldly, slightly raffish look. She felt overcome with shyness as the judge chatted with them before the ceremony.

Then, suddenly, the judge became very solemn.

"Well, shall we begin?"

The words, to Jill, had a sudden, fatal ring. She looked for support to Mrs. Hughes, who, smiling encouragingly, reached over and took the bouquet from her hands.

The ceremony had already commenced even while Jill was fighting the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. She tried to concentrate on the words spoken in the judge's soft monotone, but her mind seemed to be working on half a dozen levels.

It was Simon's response, clear, precise that brought her to. "Yes, I will."

And then the judge, asking her the question, and waiting as if for a century, for her answer. "Yes, I will," she rejoined, breathlessly.

Then a thin platinum band was slipped onto her finger by the tall, slender stranger she appeared to be marrying. At the last moment she remembered his ring. She wore it on the middle finger of her right hand. She slipped it off and taking his left hand in hers, fitted the ring to his finger, feeling him stiffen almost imperceptibly. It wouldn't need adjustment she realized with no sense of triumph.

The sonorous voice of the judge declared them to be husband and wife. "You may kiss the bride," he announced beaming, and Jill felt herself swept into Simon's arms for a brief kiss. Tears, unannounced and unexpected, started in her eyes. It was official, she told herself, that was why. Legal, binding. She had crossed the abyss, and there was never, never any going back. The tears slid, unchecked, down her cheeks.

Mrs. Hughes reached out and put her thin arm around Jill's shoulders. "Well, look at the child," she said. "She's crying." She produced a handkerchief and dabbed at the tears, and then at a few of her own.

Simon stood apart, amused, an unwilling witness to her tears. As usual, Jay Wilhelm took charge, shepherding them out of the judge's chambers into the marble corridor and onto the elevator. The sun was out when they reached the street, a brittle yellow sphere in a sapphire sky. The wind had died down, leaving the air alive with an exhilarating chill, the last Jill realized with a pang that was quite unexpected, she might ever feel.

"No more tears?" Simon asked, his tone mocking, as he handed her into the waiting limousine.

"Finished." Jill managed the pretense of a smile. She wanted to explain what had happened, but there was something about the way he had asked the question that stopped her. He appeared entertained by her behavior, as one would by a child who cried at a parade.

Their flight to Miami was scheduled for early afternoon. From Miami they would take a Bolivian Airlines flight to Caracas, and in Caracas, connect with a plane to Manaus. They would arrive in Manaus at about four in the morning.

On the way to O'Hare Airport, they stopped at the boarding house for her luggage. Jill also wanted to change into something more suitable for travel. Her room, bare now of the accessories that had accumulated during her year there, seemed strange and cold. Her luggage stood on the worn carpet, packed even down to Derek's doll which she had tossed in at the last minute.

Her travel clothes hung in the big, empty closet. For a moment, before changing, she stood quite still, trying to take it all in, or what was left of it. You were supposed to have memories, she told herself. Manaus was a world and a lifetime away. There might be times, lonely times, when she would want to recall the picture of this charming, homey room.

Mrs. Hughes tapped discreetly at the door.

"Your husband is waiting."

"Right there, Mrs. Hughes." Husband. Mrs. Simon Todd. She reached for the black watch plaid pleated skirt and white silken blouse. With them she would wear a black velvet blazer and black pumps. The ancient coat was being consigned to charity as were the boots and knit cap. Never again would she have to put on quadruple layers of anything. The short run to the limousine from the boarding house and again to the terminal at the airport were the last she need ever feel of winter cold.