Anger (6 page)

“That's the day after tomorrow,” for a second she hesitated. “All right.”

“Good. I'll pick you up on Friday at half-past five. Wear old clothes.”

When she put the phone down, Anna realized that two days would be a very long time. And then she smiled. This amazing man had not uttered a word of love. But he had, she admitted with admiration, answered her letter with action, the one necessary action. And swept her quite neatly and decisively off her feet.

But if she had been nervous about being in his territory in “a foreign land” as she had said to her mother, Anna was amazed to find that she felt at home from the moment they walked into the small cosy house and she helped Ned stow food away. The gardener had turned the heat up so it was not the chill house she had dreaded, and besides that it was full of charm, old blue and white china, copper jugs on a side table, some old-fashioned water colors of the shore, that looked like Sargents.

“Here, you arrange them,” Ned said, handing her a box of yellow roses, “There's a tall Steuben glass somewhere.… Oh, I know, in the corner cupboard there … you'll find it.”

He was being efficient and quick. She liked the way he did things, liked it that they had crossed the threshold in an impersonal hurry to get sorted out. For now they were alone really for the first time—except on the swan boat!—it was healthy to have a lot to do before the momentous fact that they
were
alone could overwhelm.

“There,” Ned said coming into the living room, “I'll light the fire and then show you your room—when you come down there'll be a drink. What shall it be?”

“Scotch, please, with a little water,” Anna said as she brought the roses in and set them on a small table. “Oh smell, Ned! Isn't that delicious?” As he bent down to smell, Anna's heart missed a beat as a rush of longing to kiss the back of his neck took hold of her, but she didn't. It was a little like being in the middle of a piece of music that must be allowed to continue without interruption until … until …

“Well, come along then,” Ned said, picking up her suitcase, “Hey, what have you got in here? It's heavy as lead.”

“Scores, Ned. You said there was a piano—at the last minute I put in some songs!”

“Wonderful …” and then without further ado he was running up the stairs, and leading Anna into a small room with yellow walls and a comfortable looking small bed. “There's a bathroom,” Ned said, opening a door. “I'm afraid it's rather Spartan, though. Paul and I lived here for a while … not very feminine, is it?” He smiled rather shyly. “I can't believe you're here.” Something though was troubling him. And as he turned at the door on his way out, he murmured, “My room is better.”

“In what way?”

“It has a double bed,” he said, running down the stairs leaving Anna laughing in spite of herself at how little Ned could express, at how terribly self-contained he was even on this momentous occasion. But will it be a bridal night, she was wondering? Or will it turn out to be a huge mistake? What did it matter? For the moment Anna felt happy, excited and happy, and, she realized, unexpectedly at ease.

Somehow coming into this house had broken a spell. It didn't feel like a foreign country, after all, and when she went down and found Ned mixing a salad in the kitchen, he did not feel like a stranger.

“Italian peppers, you marvelous man!” She seized a strip of one from the bowl and chewed it. “What are we having for supper?”

“The great American meal … steak, baked potato, salad.”

“And ice cream?”

“How did you guess?”

And they laughed. Why was it so funny? Not really, but it was such a relief to be able to laugh and to be at ease. And then at last Anna ran a finger along Ned's cheekbone and along his mouth. “I've wanted to do that,” she murmured. She felt the tremor under the skin—sensed Ned's acute sensitivity to her touch.

“Come and have a drink,” he said crisply. “We have lots to talk about.”

And there they were, sitting side by side on the sofa by the fire, forgetting to drink their drinks on the table in front of them because Ned was holding Anna's hand, hard and fast. “I'll never let you go,” he said. “Never.”

“Dangerous statement. Someday you might want to get rid of me.”

“Maybe I made a mistake,” Ned sat up straight. Whatever was this about, Anna wondered. “I left Fonzi with a friend.”

“Who's Fonzi?”

“My dog. He's a dachshund. I'm sure I've told you about him.”

Anna took a sip of her drink. “Why didn't you bring him?” At this question, Ned too swallowed a mouthful of Scotch, began to laugh, and choked on it. When he had recovered he said,

“Because he sleeps on the bed. And …” Ned hesitated, “he might be jealous.”

“Well, of course a bite in the night might be a little startling,” Anna responded very gravely. But it was too much and when she began to laugh she laughed till tears rolled down her cheeks and Ned was doubled over. “Oh Ned, you dear funny creature!”

“Sooner or later you'll meet Fonzi. He's really a very affectionate fellow,” he said when he could speak.

“I'm sure he is.”

“Tomorrow we'll go for a walk along the beach …” But Anna was thinking tomorrow is an eternity away and …

Ned caught her withdrawal, let go her hand and took a swallow of his drink. “When you go away like that I feel left out. Look at me,” he commanded.

But Anna put her face in her hands.

“Come back,” he implored.

“I've not gone away. I'm just thinking … You've had time to imagine me for over a year, to imagine this. I haven't. For me these past days have been an explosion that I wasn't prepared for and haven't had time to understand.” She lifted her head and examined him almost coldly. Did she really want to let him into her inmost self? But there was something in her that wanted to break open that closed, self-contained arrogant face, and again she couldn't help running a finger along his cheek.

This time Ned turned, took her in his arms and kissed her fiercely, possessively, and would not let her go till they were both out of breath.

“Imagine that!” Ned said with droll matter-of-factness. Then he got up and pulled Anna to her feet. “Let's go to bed.”

“Without any supper?”

“We'll make love till we're ravenous. Then we'll eat.”

“Ned!” Anna said, but she was pulled along. She felt the tide rising beyond either their ability or wish to hold it back. And she knew almost coldly that they had to get it over, to find out where they were, who they were, together.

But that was not exactly what happened. For there in the big bed in Ned's room, she experienced the jolting force of his need in darkness. His hard chest against her soft breasts hurt a little. Never had a man penetrated her so deeply, so that at one moment she gasped.

“I'm hurting you.”

“No, don't go.”

“Oh Anna, Anna!” He held her gently then and rocked her back and forth still deeply inside her, till the last spasm came and went. Then he gave a deep sigh, “It's good to let go.”

Anna was now living at such speed, hurtling among the stars, she felt, that her mind would not stop thinking, and at the same time she was wholly relaxed, one breast cupped in Ned's hand. She was thinking with her whole body, still tingling, still wonderfully alive down to her toes. But at the same time she pondered the curious fact that this most intimate and personal of acts between human beings was, when fully consummated, actually quite impersonal. It was not Ned so much of whom she had been aware as of their being part together of a primal scene, of being as she put it as she lay there, united in some strange way with the universe itself rather than with each other. To go so far out with another person was a little frightening, now that she was coming back to the dark bedroom, alone. “Ned,” she whispered, and realized then that he was asleep.

How could he be asleep? It seemed astonishing, but she supposed that that “letting go” as he had put it, had given him in the end this bliss, perhaps, of unconsciousness. He did not, as she did, have to be aware, for the stronger the emotion involved, the greater her need to understand what exactly was happening. So she lay there wide awake, until Ned suddenly sat up.

“What time is it?”

“God knows, my darling. You've been asleep.”

“Well, we'd better get ourselves something to eat!”

“Put on the light, I want to see you.”

It seemed to Anna the most natural of requests but its effect on Ned was unexpected. “No,” he said, “I'm not ready,” and he disappeared into the bathroom. When he came out and turned on the light he was in pajamas and Anna instinctively pulled the sheet up to her chin.

“Get into a dressing gown or something and I'll run down and start things … aren't you ravenous?”

“Come here, you oafish character,” she commanded. And he stood there by the bed looking down at her with a rather quizzical expression.

“Ned, are you there?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love me?”

“What do you think?”

And before she could answer he had turned away and run down the stairs. Was it possible that he couldn't say it?

“What a splendid sight!” Ned said when she came down after a few moments in a bright red dressing gown ruffled at the throat. “The prima donna!”

“Hardly! Prima donnas do not eat supper at after nine in a bathrobe.”

“Is that a bathrobe?” he teased. “It looks like something meant for a chaise longue … Stretch out here by the fire and I'll open the champagne … steak will only take a few minutes. Rare, I trust?”

“Medium rare.”

Anna felt she was floating, not quite touching the ground, a little unreal. She didn't stretch out, she sat on the chaise looking at the fire, or rather the ashes of the fire, a few bits of the log still glowing. Then he was standing, his back to the fire, lifting a glass of champagne, “To us. To Anna Lindstrom … dare I say, Anna Lindstrom Fraser?”

Anna lifted her glass, “To us … but I can't give up my name, Ned.”

“No, I suppose you can't.”

“I have to be Anna Lindstrom whatever happens.” There was a sharp edge in her voice, but she couldn't help it. “We have to talk, Ned.”

“Do we? Don't spoil it, Anna … let's have our dinner in peace.”

“Without a word?”

“You know what I mean.”

Would Ned ever be able to talk about his feelings, would he ever open his heart to her, Anna wondered when they set out the next morning to walk the beach in a rather bleak fog?

“I feel like running,” Ned said, letting go of her hand after a few minutes of walking in step with her. And off he went, trim and sprightly on his elegant long legs, until he was just a lean shadow far down the beach. Anna was glad to be alone, to listen to the gentle roar of the waves, coming in at a slow tempo for the tide was ebbing, smelling the iodine of the seaweed scattered about, stooping to pick up a broken sand dollar and knowing that whatever the hazards, despite the huge temperamental rift that was becoming clear to her now, she would have to marry Ned. At some point reason ceases to operate. I'm in for it, she thought … marriage! And she had to laugh at herself for she felt, at the second of realizing that, like a porcupine with its quills rising.

And later that afternoon after Anna had taken a nap, they sat by the fire, drinking tea, she took the bull by the horns.

“I'm not quite sure what is happening to us, Ned. On one level everything is sort of overwhelming, but on another, I have no idea what you are feeling inside yourself. Do you want to back out maybe?

“Good heavens, Anna, whatever makes you ask that?” He sounded quite cross. “Maybe you're the one who wants to back out. Maybe that's what that question was really all about.”

“Please don't shut yourself off, Ned.” Anna took a deep breath. “It's just that we are such different people … I mean, words are very important to me. I need to say that I love you … and I do. But I also need to hear you say it. Do you realize that all through last night you never said it?”

“But surely you must know that I do—after last night!”

“You never use an endearment. It seems so strange …”

“I can't help it, Anna. With me such things go too deep for words, I guess.”

“I just don't believe that!” Anna felt her quills rising. She was close to anger or to tears. “It's mean and inhuman. It's ungenerous.”

“Anything else?” Ned asked with heavy irony.

“I just don't understand,” Anna said and got up and went to the window, looking out at the fading light and a chickadee busily pecking at the seeds in the hemlock.

“I've asked you to marry me … is that mean, inhuman, ungenerous?”

“I can't see what's making you so cross,” she said, still looking out, her back turned to him.

“It's you who are cross, my dear. I appear to enrage you because I can't and don't want to sound like a greeting card.”

But this was too much and Anna whirled around and rushed at him. Ned, startled no doubt by this sudden eruption of violence, got to his feet and managed to grasp her hands before she could hit him.

“Let me go!” she said.

He let her go, but he was frozen with dismay, and looked it.

“I'm sorry, Ned,” Anna said coldly. “But I can't take that sort of nasty cut without reacting violently and you might as well know it.”

“I think I'll go for a walk,” he said, going out into the hall to find a coat.

“Oh Ned, please stay. We've got to talk.”

“It's become too dangerous. I find physical assault repulsive.”

“Darling, I'm sorry …” she followed him into the hall and gently took his coat from him and hung it up. “Please …”