Malice (36 page)

“I'll have to show this to the kids the next time they tell me how mean I am,” she smiled, and set it down on a table in their hotel suite. She was glad they had come after all. She had really enjoyed it, and then as they lay in bed, talking about the people they'd met, and how impressive it was to be in the company of the President and the First Lady, she asked Charles about his congressman friend.

“Roger?” he asked casually. “He used to be a partner in the firm. He's a good man, I always liked him.”

“What about what he said?” She was curious about Charles's reaction.

“About going into politics?” He looked amused. “I don't think so.”

“Why not? You'd be great at it.”

“Maybe I'll run for president one day. You'd make a beautiful first lady,” he teased, and then he turned to her with love on his mind, and kissed her hungrily, and as always she was quick to return his passion.

They were back in New York by two o'clock the next afternoon. Charles was in a festive mood, and decided not to go back to his office. He went home with Grace instead, and the children were delighted to see them. They jumped all over them and wanted to know what their parents had brought them from the trip.

“Absolutely nothing,” Charles lied with a blank stare, and they squealed in disbelief. Their children knew them better. They had bought some toys and souvenirs for them at the airport. Whenever Charles went away on business, which was rare, he never came back empty-handed. And Grace told them what the White House had been like, and about the children who sang there, and the Christmas tree all lit up on the White House lawn.

“What did they sing?” Andrew wanted to know, but like the little lady she was, Abigail wanted to know what they were wearing. The children were five and six then.

Christmas was the following week, and that weekend they put up the tree, and it looked beautiful when they finished it. She and Charles put the ornaments up high, and the children decorated everything within reach below that, and strung popcorn and cranberries, which was a tradition they loved.

Grace took them ice-skating at Rockefeller Plaza, and to see Santa Claus at Saks, and all the beautifully decorated windows on Fifth Avenue once school was out, and they even dropped in on Daddy at work, and took him out to lunch. They went to Serendipity on Sixtieth Street between Second and Third Avenues, and had huge hot dogs and giant ice-cream sodas. Grace ordered a banana split and Charles laughed, remembering the banana split he'd bought her the first time they went away for the weekend. This time she finished all of it, and he complimented her for being a member of the clean plate club.

“Are you making fun of me?” she grinned at him, with a spot of whipped cream on her nose. Abigail chuckled looking at her, and even Andrew loved it.

“Certainly not. I think it's wonderful that you didn't waste a bit of it” Charles smiled, feeling happy and young.

“Be nice, or I'll order another one.” But she was as thin as she'd ever been, until after the New Year, when she explained that she couldn't get into any of her clothes. She had been answering the hot line several times a week over the holidays, she knew what an important time it was for troubled families and helpless kids, and she wanted to do it herself as much as she could. And as they all did, while she was answering phones at all hours, she sat around and ate cookies and popcorn, particularly at Christmas.

“I feel huge,” she said miserably, zipping up her jeans to go for a walk in the park with him at the end of a lazy weekend.

“Most women would love to be as ‘huge’ as you are.” In spite of two children, and the fact that she had turned thirty that year, she still looked like a model. And he had just turned fifty and was as handsome as ever.

They were a good-looking couple as they strolled along. She was wearing a big cozy fox hat, and a fox jacket he had given her for Christmas. It was perfect for the frigid New York winter.

There was snow on the ground in the park, and they had left the kids at home with a sitter for a few hours because the housekeeper was away. They liked to go for long walks sometimes on Sundays, or take a cab down to SoHo and go to a coffeehouse, or have lunch and browse through galleries looking at paintings or sculpture.

But this afternoon, they were content to stroll, and eventually wound up at the Plaza Hotel. They decided to go in and have some hot chocolate in the Palm Court. And they walked into the elegant old hotel hand in hand, talking softly.

“The kids will never forgive us if they find out,” Grace said guiltily. They loved the Palm Court. But it was romantic being alone with him. She was talking about some plans she had for “Help Kids!” for the next year, to expand it further. She was always trying to broaden their outreach. And as she chatted with him, she devoured an entire plate of cookies and two hot chocolates with whipped cream. And as soon as she finished them, she felt sick, and was sorry she'd eaten.

“You're as bad as Andrew,” Charles laughed. He loved being with her, she was like a girl to him, and at the same time very much a woman.

When they left the Plaza, he hailed a hansom cab, and had it drive them home, as they snuggled in the back, kissing and whispering and giggling under heavy blankets, just like teenagers, or honeymooners. And when they got to the house, he ran in to get the kids, and let them pet the horse. And then the driver agreed to take them around the block for an additional fee, and the four of them rode around the block to the house again. And then they went inside, and the sitter left, and Grace made pasta for dinner.

She was busy for the next few weeks, with new plans, and keeping up with the children. But she was surprised to find that she was exhausted all the time, so much so that she even skipped two shifts on the hot line, which was rare for her. And when Charles noticed it, he was worried, and asked about it

“Are you all right?” He worried sometimes that her past life, and the beating outside St. Andrew's, would take a toll on her one day, and whenever she was sick, it really scared him.

“Of course I am,” she said, but the circles under her eyes, and her pallor, didn't convince him. She hardly ever suffered from asthma anymore, but she was starting to look the way she had when he first met her. A little too drawn and a little too serious, and not entirely healthy.

“I want you to go to the doctor,” he insisted.

“I'm fine,” she said stubbornly.

“I mean it,” he said sternly.

“Okay. Okay.” But she didn't do anything about it, and insisted that she was busy. Finally, he made an appointment himself and told her he'd take her there if she didn't go the following morning. It was a month after Christmas by then, and she was in the midst of a big fund drive for “Help Kids!” She had a thousand calls to make, and a million people to visit “For heaven's sake,” she said irritably when he reminded her again the next morning. “I'm just tired, that's all. It's no big deal. What are you so upset about?” she snapped at him, but he took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him.

“Do you have any idea how important you are to me, and this family? I love you, Grace. Don't screw around with your health. I need you.’ *

“Okay,” she said quietly. “I'll go.” But she always hated going to the doctor. Doctors still reminded her of bad experiences, of being raped, and her mother dying, and the night she killed her father, and even when she'd been in Bellevue after the attack at St. Andrew's. To Grace, except for the babies she'd had, doctors never meant anything pleasant.

“Any idea what might be wrong? How do you feel?” their family doctor asked her pleasantly. He was a middle-aged man with an intelligent face and an easy disposition. He knew nothing of Grace's past, or her dislike for doctors.

“I feel fine. I'm just tired, and Charles is hysterical.” She smiled.

“He's right to be concerned. Anything else except fatigue?” She thought about it and shrugged.

“Nothing much. A little dizziness, some headaches.” She made light of it, but the truth was she had been very dizzy more than once lately, and several times she had been sick to her stomach. She thought it was nervous tension over their fund drive. “I've been pretty busy.”

“Maybe you need some time off.” He smiled. He gave her some vitamins, checked her blood count and it was fine. He didn't want to run any serious tests. She was obviously young and healthy, and her blood pressure was low, which accounted for the dizziness and headaches. “Eat lots of red meat,” he advised, “and eat your spinach.” He said to say hello to Charles, and she called from the phone outside to tell Charles she was fine. And then feeling better than she had in a while, she walked home in the brisk January air. It was cold and crisp and sunny, and she felt wonderful and strong as she walked along, feeling stupid for even having gone to see the doctor. She smiled thinking of what good care Charles took of her and how lucky she was, as she turned the corner and walked toward their town house. She felt a little light-headed as she did, but it was no worse than it had been before, until she reached their front door, and she suddenly found she was so dizzy, she could hardly stand. She reached out to steady herself, and found herself clutching an elderly man who stared at her strangely. She looked at him as though she didn't see him at all, and then she took two steps toward her house, said something unintelligible, and collapsed, unconscious, to the sidewalk.

Chapter 14

W
hen Grace came to on the street outside their house, there were three people standing over her, and two policemen. The old man she had almost pulled down with her had gone to a phone booth and dialed 911, but she was conscious again by the time they came, and she was sitting on the sidewalk. She was embarrassed more than hurt, and still too dizzy to get up.

“What happened here?” the first policeman asked amiably. He was a big friendly man, and he had keen eyes as he took in the situation. She wasn't drunk or on drugs, from what he could see, and she was very pretty and well dressed. “Would you like us to call an ambulance for you? Or your doctor?”

“No, really, I'm fine,” she said, getting up. “I don't know what happened. I just got light-headed.” She had skipped breakfast that day, but she'd been feeling fine.

“You really should go to a doctor, ma'am. We'll be happy to take you to New York Hospital. It's straight down the street here,” he said kindly.

“Really. I'm fine. I live right here.” She pointed at the town house only a few feet away from them. She had almost made it. And she thanked the old man and apologized for almost knocking him down. He patted her hand and told her to have a nap and eat a good lunch, and then the policemen escorted her into her house, and looked around at the attractive surroundings.

“Do you want us to call anyone? Your husband? A friend? A neighbor?”

“No … I …” The phone interrupted them, and she picked it up as they stood in the hallway. It was Charles.

“What did he say?”

“I'm fine,” she said sheepishly, except for the fact that she had just keeled over on the sidewalk.

“Do you want us to stay for a few minutes?” the policeman in charge asked and she shook her head.

“Who was that? Is someone there?” She was afraid to tell him what had happened.

“It's nothing, I just … the doctor said I'm in great shape. And …”

“Who was that talking to you?” He had a sixth sense about her, and he knew something was wrong as he listened.

“It's a policeman, Charles,” she sighed, feeling foolish, but also feeling sick again, and the policeman watched her turn green and then swoon again as he caught her with one arm. She had no idea what was happening, but she felt awful. She actually felt too sick to talk to him, as she set down the phone, and sat down on the floor and put her head down between her knees. One of the policemen went to get a glass of water for her, and the other picked up the phone where she'd left it on the floor beside her.

“Hello? Hello? What's going on there?” Charles was frantic.

“This is Officer Mason. Who is this?” he said calmly, as Grace looked up at him in helpless mortification.

“My name is Charles Mackenzie and that's my wife there with you. What's wrong?”

“She's fine, sir. She had a little problem … she passed out just outside your house. We brought her inside, and I think she's feeling a little woozy again. Probably stomach flu, there's a lot of it going around.”

“Is she all right?” Charles looked ghastly, as he stood up and grabbed his coat while he was still talking to the officer at his house.

“I think she's fine. She didn't want to go to the hospital. We asked her.”

“Never mind that. Can you take her to Lenox Hill?”

“We'd be glad to.”

“I'll meet you there in ten minutes.”

The policeman looked down at her with a smile after he hung up. “Your husband wants us to take you to Lenox Hill, Mrs. Mackenzie.”

“I don't want to go.” She sounded like a child and he smiled at her.

“He was pretty definite about it. He's going to meet you there.”

“I'm okay. Really.”

“I'm sure you are. But it doesn't hurt to get it checked out. There's a lot of nasty bugs around. A woman passed out at Bloomingdale's yesterday with that Hong Kong flu. You been sick long?” he asked while he helped her toward the door as they chatted, and his partner joined them.

“Really, I'm fine,” she said, as the police locked her door and put her in the squad car. And then suddenly she realized what it must have looked like, as though she were being arrested. It would have seemed funny to her except that suddenly it reminded her of the night she had killed her father, and by the time they got to Lenox Hill, she was having an asthma attack, the first she'd had in two years. And she wasn't even carrying her inhaler. She had gotten so confident, she left it home most of the time now.

They took her inside, and she explained to the nurse in the emergency room about her asthma, and they were quick to bring her an inhaler. But by the time Charles arrived, she was still deathly pale from the asthma and the medication, and her hands were shaking.