An Independent Wife (22 page)

At first she was unnaturally calm, numbed by her sense of loss and betrayal. She'd just gotten used to living with him, and now she was alone again with the solitary nights pressing down on her like an invisible weight. She didn't try to think about it or straighten it out in her mind; there was no use in driving herself mad with if onlys and might have beens. She had to accept it, just as she would have to if he'd died.

In a sense that was what had happened. She'd lost her husband as irrevocably as if he had died. She was as alone, as empty. He was in Europe now, half a world away, and he might as well have been on another planet.

Then she realized that she was neither alone nor empty. His baby moved inside her one day and she stood with her hands pressed over the gentle fluttering, overcome by the feeling of awe that a living creature was being nurtured inside her body. Rhy's baby, a part of him. No matter if she never saw his face again she would always have him near. That thought was both painful and comforting, a threat and a promise.

The numbness wore off abruptly. She woke in the dark, silent hours before dawn one morning, and her entire body ached with the pain of her loss. For the first time she cried, weeping with her face pressed into the pillow, and she thought about it endlessly, trying to understand the hows and whys of his behavior. Was it her fault? Was it something about her that challenged Rhy to subdue her, then forced him to lose interest once she was captured? Or was it Rhy's own nature, as Coral had charged, an inability to be faithful to one woman?

Yet that denoted a certain weakness of character, and that didn't describe Rhy. A lot of adjectives could be used to describe him-arrogant, hot-tempered, stubbom-but weakness in any respect wasn't one of them. She would also have sworn on his professional integrity, and she felt that integrity was not an isolated thing in a person, restricted to only one field; integrity spread out, showing itself in every aspect of a person's behavior.

So how could she explain his infidelity? She couldn't, and the question tore at her. She forced herself to eat only because of the baby, but even so she grew pale and thinner. Sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night to find her pillow wet, and she wanted Rhy beside her so badly that it was impossible to get back to sleep. At times like that she wondered why she'd run off, like a fool, and left the field clear for Coral. Why hadn't she stayed? Why hadn't she put up a fight for him? He'd hurt her, he'd been unfaithful, but she still loved him and surely it couldn't hurt any more if she'd stayed with him? At least then she'd have had the comfort of his presence; they could have shared the miracle of the growing child she carried. During those dark predawn hours she sometimes determined to pack her clothes first thing in the morning and fly to Europe to join Rhy, but always, when the morning came, she would remember Coral and the baby that she carried. Rhy might not want her to join him. Coral might be with him. Coral was more glamorous anyway, more suited for a life in the limelight with Rhy.

It wasn't in her nature to be indecisive, but for the second time in her life she'd lost her bearings, and both times had been because of Rhy. The first time she had eventually found her feet and pursued a goal, but now she was unable to plan anything more complicated than the basic needs of living. She ate, she bathed, she slept, she did what had to be done. She had read enough to know that part of her lethargy was due to being pregnant, yet that wasn't excuse enough to explain her total lack of interest in anything beyond the next moment.

As the late fall days passed and winter drew closer she became aware that Christmas was near.

Somehow every Christmas since the death of her parents had been spent alone, and this one would be no different. But next year, she promised herself, gazing at a brightly decorated tree as she made her weekly trip to the nearest grocery store, she would have a real Christmas. The baby would be about nine months old, bright eyed and inquisitive about everything in its world. She would decorate a tree and pile gifts beneath it that would fascinate a crawling baby.

It was a vague plan, but it was the first plan she'd made since leaving Rhy. For the baby's sake she had to pull herself out of the doldrums. She had a book in the works; she needed to contact the agent and see about publication and perhaps start work on another book. She had to have some means of taking care of the baby or the first thing she knew Rhy would be demanding custody of his child. Fiercely she determined that she'd never allow that to happen. Rhy had another child; she only had this one and she'd never let it go!

Two weeks before Christmas she finally made a firm decision and dialed Barbara Hopewell's office with her former briskness. When Barbara came on the line Sallie identified herself, and before the other woman could say anything she asked if any progress had been made in locating a publisher.

"Mrs. Baines!" Barbara gasped. "Where are you? Mr. Baines has been going mad, trying to complete filming in Europe and flying back here every free moment he has in an effort to trace you! Are you in town?"

"No," Sallie replied. She didn't want to bear about Rhy or how hard he'd been looking for her. Oddly enough, she'd expected that he would make an effort to find her if only because of the child she carried. "And where I am doesn't matter. I only want to discuss the book, if you don't mind. Has a publisher been found?"

"But..." Then Barbara changed her mind, and she answered in an abrupt tone, "Yes, we have a publisher who is extremely interested. I really need to schedule a meeting with you, Mrs. Baines, to go over the details of the contract. May I make an appointment?"

"I don't want to return to New York," Sallie said, her throat constricting at the thought.

"Then I'll be glad to meet you wherever you want. Just set the time and tell me the location."

Sallie hesitated, unwilling to divulge her hiding place, yet equally unwilling to leave it for a meeting at any other location. Then she quickly added up the dates and realized that Rhy would still be filming in Europe for another month. Barbara had said that he flew back as often as he could, but she knew that schedule, and it was a tightly packed one. The odds were that he would be unable to leave on a moment's notice even if Barbara did happen to be in touch with him and let slip that she'd talked to Sallie.

"All right," she agreed reluctantly and gave Barbara her address. They agreed on a time that Thursday for Barbara to come to the house.

That was only two days away and Sallie felt even more confident that Rhy wouldn't find out her hiding place. When she saw Barbara on Thursday she would get her promise not to tell Rhy; she hadn't wanted to discuss the matter over the phone, knowing that anyone in Barbara's office could listen in on an extension.

She couldn't sleep that night; she was too anxious that she had made a mistake in revealing her bolt hole to relax. Somehow she had the feeling that Rhy was one step ahead of her, as usual. Lying in her bed, tense and unable to close her eyes, she imagined all sorts of what ifs: What if Rhy had been in New York even then? What if Rhy had even been in Barbara's office and was on his way upstate now?

What if she got up in the morning to find him on her doorstep? What would she say to him? What was there to say?

Tears seeped from beneath her lids as she squeezed them slightly shut in an effort to banish the picture she suddenly had of Rhy's dark, lean face. Pain pierced her sharply and she turned on her side to weep, hugging the pillow to her face in an effort to stifle the sobs. "I love him," she moaned aloud. That hadn't changed, and every day apart from him was an eternity.

Abruptly, desolate in her loneliness, she admitted to herself that she wanted to go back to him. She wanted his strength, his physical presence, even if she couldn't have his love. She wanted him there to hold her hand while she gave birth to their child and she wanted to have other children. The thought of Coral and that other baby tore at her insides, but gradually she was realizing that her love, her need, for Rhy was stronger than her anger. She had to accept him as he was if she wanted to live with him.

She dozed eventually, toward dawn, and woke only a few hours later to the steady, dreary sound of cold rain pouring down. The sky was gray, the streets stark and cheerless. Snow had not yet arrived and given everything its winter-wonderland effect, but the trees were denuded of leaves and the bare branches rattled against each other like bones of a skeleton. There was nothing to get up for but she did, and managed to occupy herself by trying to work out a sketchy outline for another book. This one would be more difficult, she knew, for the first one had been partially rooted in her own experiences.

This one would have to be totally from her imagination.

By midafternoon the rain had stopped but the temperature had dropped, and when she turned on the television she learned that the rain was supposed to begin again later that night, then turn to sleet and snow before morning. Sallie made a wry face at the weatherman on the screen. It was possible that bad road conditions would keep Barbara from making their appointment and she felt horribly disappointed.

Her interest in the world around her was returning and she wanted to get on with the business of living.

After an hour of pacing around, boredom overcame her and she felt stifled in the small house. It was cold outside, and damp, but she felt that a brisk walk would clear the cobwebs from her mind and perhaps relax her enough so she could sleep that night. Not only that, she told herself righteously, but the doctor had wanted her to take some form of exercise every day. A walk was just the thing.

She wrapped herself up warmly, pulling on kneehigh boots and shoving her hair up under a dark fur hat that covered her ears. After buttoning her heavy coat up and wrapping a muffler about her throat she set off briskly, shivering at first in the cold air, but gradually movement wanned her and she began to enjoy having the streets to herself. It was almost sundown and the dreary sky made it that much darker. The water dripping from the trees onto the sidewalk and street was the only sound except for the clicking of her boots, and she shivered again but not from the cold this time. Why was she walking like an idiot when she could be back safe and snug in her warm house? And why was she running from Rhy when all she wanted was to be back in his arms?

Stupid, she mentally berated herself as she headed for home. Stupid, stupid, stupid! And spineless on top of that! She would be the biggest fool alive if she left the field clear for Coral! When this weather cleared up and she could travel safely she'd leave for Europe on the first plane out, and if she found Coral with Rhy she'd tear out all of that gorgeous blond hair. Rhy would not get off completely free, she promised herself, the light of battle sparkling in her eyes. She had a lot to say to him, but she meant to keep him! After all, hadn't these past seven years taught her that he was the only man for her?

Retracing her steps faster now, she turned the corner and came in sight of her house. She was so caught up in her plans that at first she didn't see the taxi in front of her house; it wasn't until a tall man who moved with the litheness of a panther ducked down to pay the driver that her gaze was drawn to the cab. She stopped in her tracks and the breath stopped in her chest as she stared at the proudly held dark head, bare despite the dripping trees. The taxi pulled away with a flash of red taillights and the man set a single flight bag on the wet sidewalk and stared at the house as if mesmerized by the sight of it. No lights were on and it could have been empty, she realized, except for the curtains that covered the windows. Was that what he was thinking? she wondered with sudden pain. That it was empty after all?

"Rhy," she whispered and began walking again. The sound of her boots drew his attention and his head turned swiftly, like that of a wild animal sensing danger. He froze for a moment, then began walking toward her with a purposeful stride. Just like him, she thought, trying not to smile. There was no self-doubt in that man. Even when he was wrong he was confident.

But when he was close, when he stopped with only three feet separating them, she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out with pain. His lean face bore the marks of suffering; there were harsh shadows under his steely eyes and lines that hadn't been there before. He was tired of course, and the grayness of exhaustion enhanced the grimness of his expression. He'd lost weight; the skin was pulled taut over the high, proud cheekbones.

He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his overcoat and stared at her, his bleak gaze roving over her small, delicate face and her rounded form beneath her coat. Sallie quivered with wanting to throw herself into his arms, but he hadn't opened them to her, and she was suddenly afraid that he didn't want her. But why was he here?

"She lied," he said tonelessly, his voice even harsher than before and almost beyond sound ' His lips were barely moving as he seemed to force out his next words. "I'm dying without you, Sallie. Please come back to me."

Incredulous joy rocketed through her veins, and she closed her eyes for a moment in an effort to control herself. When she opened them again he was still staring down at her with a desperate plea in his gray eyes, his lips pressed grimly together as if he expected the worst. "I was planning on it," she told him, her voice tremulous with joy. "I'd just now decided that as soon as the weather cleared I was taking a plane to Europe."

A shudder quaked visibly through his body; then he pulled his hands out of his pockets and reached for her at the same time that she stepped forward. Hard arms enfolded her in a tight, damp embrace, and she put her arms around his neck and clung desperately, tears of happiness running down her face. He caught her mouth with his and held it, kissing her deeply and reassuring both of them that they were together again; then he lifted her completely off the ground, turning round and round on the sidewalk in a slow circle as they kissed.

At some point it began to rain again; they were both soaked by the time Sallie glanced up at the pouring skies and laughed. "What fools we are!" she exclaimed. "Why don't we go inside instead of standing out in the rain?"