Willow Pond (19 page)

His cheeks flushed, his blue eyes practically sparked. “What? Were you lying a couple of hours ago when you told me you loved me?”

“I meant every word. But sometimes love isn’t enough. You and I will never understand each other. I can see that now.” She saw tears standing in his eyes, and it broke her heart, but she stayed strong.

The pain in his expression hardened and he got to his feet. “You’re thinking of going back to him, aren’t you? Is his money more important than I am?”

“What? After all the things we’ve talked about, how can you not know that money was one of the things that drove me away from Phillip?”

Erich grabbed his jacket and reached for the door. When he stood in the doorway he turned and glared at her. “Think hard about what you’re doing, Laura. Remember how miserable you were with him.”

The door slammed behind him and Laura stared at the spot where he had been. “And how happy I was with you.”

She left the coffee things on the table, changed into her nightgown and cried herself to sleep.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Laura was at her writing table, proofreading and making last minute changes to her novel, Shattered Vows, when she heard a knock on the door. When she opened it, she was handed a dozen long-stemmed yellow roses by a smiling delivery boy. After thanking him and giving him a ten cent tip, she closed the door and opened the card which accompanied the flowers.

My dear Laura,

The most beautiful flowers in the world for the most beautiful woman in the world.

Love always,

Phillip

For the past couple of weeks he’d been sending her a dozen roses every day. She knew she should ask him to stop, but hadn’t bothered. It was his money, after all. Besides, fresh flowers always added happiness to a home, and God knew she needed some of that. She trimmed the roses and replaced the old bouquet with the new one.

When he’d first sent her roses she’d been angry. She didn’t trust either him or his motives. However, when he called the next day, she sensed a change in him. Something more earnest, less showbiz. From that, she’d hoped they might manage to be civil to each other in the future.

She ignored the phone when it rang. She wasn’t satisfied with a scene she was rewriting and didn’t want to lose concentration. Later, when she came out of her writing daze, she realized the call could have been news about Todd, so she called Ben Wilson to make sure. He told her there had been no new developments.

Ten minutes later the phone rang again.

“Did you put the roses in the crystal vase we got as a wedding present?”

She smiled, glancing over at the bouquet. “They’re beautiful, Phillip. But you can’t keep sending them. I’ll have to move if you do.”

“Why not? If I send them often enough you might start to believe me when I tell you how much I love you.”

She frowned and looked back at her writing. She had hoped he wasn’t thinking that way. “It’s a little late for that.”

“I don’t think so.”

She sighed heavily, suddenly weary. “Phillip, we’ve been through this before. Things can never work out between us.”

“Have dinner with me tonight. Give me a chance.”

“I already have plans.”

“I’ll call you again in a few days.” He cleared his throat, changing direction. “Oh Laura, I hired that private eye we talked about. You know I’ll move heaven and earth to find our son.”

“I hope you mean that.”

Time wasn’t easing Laura’s anguish over Todd. She missed him more every day and was getting increasingly frustrated and angry at herself. Now, when she tried to remember something he’d said or done, the memory loomed just out of reach.

When they found him, whenever that day came, would he remember her?

***

Three days later Laura accepted Phillip’s invitation to come to his apartment. She sat in a comfortable chair, her bare feet curled under her, and sipped the champagne he handed her, enjoying the bubbles as they tickled her nose.

It felt strange, being here. Even more strangely, being here with Phillip almost made her feel as if she were sneaking around Erich’s back, which of course she wasn’t. She hadn’t seen Erich since she’d asked him to leave. Now she wasn’t sure what to do. Everything was fine until she thought of him. Then the tears came. So she tried hard not to think of him.

“I like you much better here than when you’re at Willow Pond,” she said to Phillip.

Phillip nodded. “I’m glad I closed the place up last week. Without you and Todd I don’t want to be there. Too many ghosts.”

She held her glass between her hands, watching him. When she spoke her voice was sad. “We were happy when Todd was born.”

He met her gaze. “It took what happened to him to make me realize how much I still love you.”

She didn’t believe him, but it felt good to talk about happier times. “Remember that tiny apartment we had in the Village? We were so happy and so in love.”

He laughed. “And so broke.”

“I didn’t mind. It was exciting to see you blossom as an actor.” She smiled. “I was so proud of you when you got your first part on Broadway.”

“Then Hollywood discovered me and ruined our lives.”

He grinned and she joined him, then nodded. “Yep, that’s pretty much what happened.”

From the table beside her, Laura picked up a photograph of Todd which had been taken a few days after his first birthday. How much had he changed over the four months since she’d last seen him?

Phillip took her other hand and she set the photo back on the table. “You must understand, Laura, that what’s happened has changed me. I’m not the same man I was before he was kidnapped.”

He was such a good liar, so convincing. Did he ever stop acting?

“You know, Phillip, I’ll never understood why you needed all those other women. You never even gave us a chance.”

He sat up straighter. “I’ve got something for you.”

“No, Phillip, no more—”

Before she got the last word out he was already out of the room. She had objected when he’d bought her a new Rolls Royce. That didn’t slow him down, and he’d shown up a few days later with a mink coat as well as a diamond and emerald necklace. A few days later he brought her the earrings that matched the necklace. Money meant nothing to him as long as he had it. It was funny that he thought she cared about that.

She looked around his apartment, thinking this place suited him better than Willow Pond ever had. Though enormous in comparison to most Manhattan apartments, and three times the size of hers on Patchin Place, it seemed more like a home than a showcase.

He returned carrying a large square wrapped in brown paper, and he set it against the wall. They sat on the floor together, and she tore at the paper. When she realized it was a portrait of Todd, she turned to Phillip with tears in her eyes.

He clapped his hands. “Finally! At last I’ve given you something you want.”

“Yes. Oh, yes. Thank you, Phillip. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

She tore the rest of the paper away and ran her fingertips over the rough oil paint that captured the sweetness of her son’s face.

He smiled. “Seeing the look in your eyes is all the thanks I need.”

“How were you able to have it done?”

“I gave an artist all the photographs I had of him. I think he did a fine job of capturing our son and that mischievous glint in his eyes.” Phillip turned from the picture and faced her. “Have I made you happy?”

“Yes.” She kissed his cheek. “This means so much to me.”

He pulled her close and tried to kiss her with a little more intimacy, but she turned her face away.

“Have I done something to offend you?”

She held the laughter in, keeping her tone light. “I go to bed with you and that’s it, right, Phillip? I forgive you all the other women and the lousy way you treated Todd and me? I’m sorry. I refuse to make it that easy for you.”

His eyes held hers, their intensity a little too much. Like he’d over-rehearsed. “I won’t pretend I don’t want you back, Laura, because I do. Almost more than I’ve ever wanted anything. The only thing I want more is to get our boy back. I’ll do anything to make that happen, spend every dime I have if necessary. I’d kill to get him back, do you know that?”

“Phillip!”

“Yes. I’d commit murder if I had to. I can’t help thinking it’s my fault he was kidnapped. I always had the deluded thought that I was more important than you and Todd because of my fame. But I was wrong. You and he were all that ever mattered. Come back to me, Laura, and I’ll bring Todd home to you.”

She stared at him, incredulous. All these theatrics just for her? Could she believe him? It was impossible to know. He was an actor, after all. She wanted to believe him. She really wanted to. It would be nice to have the old Phillip back, to bring Todd back to a whole family.

“I need time to think about it.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

On the September day that Todd turned two, Laura found herself missing him so much it was almost unbearable. She imagined he spoke in full sentences now and tried to remember what his voice sounded like. It was so unfair. Whoever had him was experiencing the joy of watching him grow and change, while she had been denied what was rightfully hers.

She rolled over in her maple double bed and blinked with surprise at the alarm clock. It was twenty to twelve; she couldn’t believe she’d slept so late. She eased her feet into bedroom slippers and padded into the bathroom, hoping a good hot shower would wake her up. Unfortunately, when she’d finished she felt as lethargic as she had before. She pulled on a blue cotton skirt and white sweater, had a quick cup of coffee and half a cruller and headed outside for a walk.

It wasn’t only Todd’s disappearance that was tearing her up. It was Erich, too. When anyone mentioned him around her, she had to look away, force herself not to cry. She felt weak, as if with the two of them gone, all her support was gone. She’d lost them both: her baby and the man she loved, yet she was the one who felt lost. Nothing meant anything to her anymore, not even writing. Every time she sat at her typewriter she heard Erich’s voice praising something she’d written, and she’d start to cry.

The Village was crowded on the weekends and this Saturday afternoon was no exception. She wandered down the street, pausing to look in shop windows or admire the artwork displayed on street corners. She ducked into B. Daltons, looking for a copy of Virginia Woolfe’s A Room Of One’s Own, but there were none in stock. The clerk told her they’d order one for her if she wanted. Instead, she bought a copy of The Good Earth that had just been released and was all the rage. A good book would get her mind off her troubles at least for a while.

On McDougal Street she stopped for iced coffee at an outdoor café. When she’d finished her drink she headed in the direction of Eighth Street, not knowing where she was going, just enjoying the fresh air and the chance to get her mind off things. She went into a couple of stores and was tempted to buy a new hat, then reminded herself she already had too many.

On the corner of Sixth Avenue she saw an intriguing dress shop, but was distracted by a sign hanging in the window of the store next door to it: Tarot Card Reader and Advisor. She had heard of tarot card readings and had once gone to a party with Phillip in California where a psychic had given free readings. It was all in fashion among the Hollywood set, but she wasn’t convinced she believed in it. Still, it couldn’t hurt …

She opened the door and stepped into a small room lit by candles and reeking of incense. A moment later a heavyset, middle-aged woman emerged from behind a red and gold patterned curtain. She looked at Laura, but didn’t show any sign of having recognized her. That was good. It would be too easy for the woman to fake a reading if she knew who Laura was.

“Are you here for a reading?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” Laura admitted. She glanced back at the door as if she were looking for escape.

“You want the reading,” the woman said decisively. “Sit down. I can help you.”

Laura sat, smiling nervously. The woman sat across from her and shuffled a pack of oversized cards, observing Laura’s expression as she did so.

“My name is Samara,” she said gently. “The cards will reveal your life to you.”

Laura frowned, but nodded, watching the woman’s hands. She felt silly, but since she was there she figured she might as well see things through to the end. If this woman came up with anything concrete, Laura would be amazed. So far Samara still didn’t seem to have recognized her, and she hoped that continued. She didn’t want the woman to be influenced by anything she might have read.

Samara spread the cards in front of them like a fan. Two of the most visible cards were pictures of male figures. Laura thought of Todd and Erich and wondered if that were significant.

“Much has been lost to you,” Samara said thoughtfully. “You are filled with sadness.”

“People suffer loss all the time. You could be talking about anyone.”

Samara nodded, a vague smile crossing her lips. “You are a woman who is not easily convinced and is not quick to trust. That is good. The man who owns your heart knows this as well as anyone. He sits alone and stares at your picture.”

“What picture?” Laura asked.

“It was taken in some kind of restaurant. A tavern? There are others in the picture: a blonde woman who is with child and another man.”

Laura swallowed hard, picturing the Pavilion Royale on that night, seeing again Dorothy and Peter as they announced Dorothy’s pregnancy. She blinked, trying to think logically. This was all nonsense. Had to be. Samara sorted through a couple of cards and pointed at one in particular. What she said froze the blood in Laura’s veins.

“The boy is somewhere in the deep south in a town that begins with the letter V.”

“W-w-what boy?”

“Your son,” she said, matter-of-fact. “At times he sees your face, but doesn’t remember who you are. He cries, but he doesn’t know why he’s crying.”