Montega's Mistress (29 page)

“I am not in a predicament!” Helen yelled, losing patience. “Now you get back on the phone and tell Claudia, or Roberto, or whoever you arranged this little deal with, that the bribe will not be handed over after all. What’s wrong with those two anyway, don’t they have enough money?”

Sophia didn’t reply, and Helen sighed. “Silly of me,” she said. “No such thing as enough money, is there?”

“I don’t understand why you have to see it in such crass, materialistic terms. There’s nothing wrong with Roberto wanting to help out a friend.”

“He’s your friend; let him marry you!”

“I,” Sophia said imperiously, “am not about to become an unwed mother.”

Helen counted to ten. She took a deep breath and said, “You know that Roberto has been trying to get his hands on some of Daddy’s money for years now. He’s running himself into debt with all the gambling and the high living. Do you really want to give him an excuse to stick his mitt into the till?”

Sophia’s fingers knotted and unknotted in her lap. “But Helen, what is going to happen to you?” she said miserably, and for the first time Helen saw that her mother was genuinely worried about her. Of course she wanted to avoid a scandal among her uptight, hypocritical friends, but she also thought her only child was in terrible trouble. The fact that Helen didn’t see it that way only exacerbated Sophia’s concern. It confirmed her lifelong suspicion that Helen was a flake who couldn’t take care of herself.

Helen sat next to her mother and put her hand on Sophia’s shoulder. “Mother,” she said, deliberately using the title, “I have been with a man. A real man, who believes in something and who has dedicated his life to it. A man who loved me. I can’t go from that to Roberto, not even for the sake of your precious reputation.”

“And where is this wonderful man when you need him?” Sophia sniffed. “I don’t see him, do you?”

“He doesn’t know about the baby.”

“When do you propose to tell him?” Sophia demanded, outraged.

“I’m not going to tell him. There are reasons why it isn’t a good idea.”

“Such as?”

“You’ll just have to trust me on that,” Helen said, smiling. “Besides, unwed motherhood as you so quaintly put it is
in
right now. All the movie stars are doing it.”

“The Demarests aren’t,” Sophia responded dryly.

“They are now,” Helen said, and even Sophia had to smile.

“So,” she said, drawing out the vowel, “there’s nothing I can say that will persuade you to change your attitude about this?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, I don’t know what I’m going to tell your father.”

“Sophia, don’t be ridiculous. He’s so wrapped up in his mergers he wouldn’t notice if I gave birth to the Bronx Zoo.”

“He might disown the child,” Sophia cautioned.

“Let him. I have enough money in my own right to support myself and the baby.”

“He might disown
you.”

“He can’t touch the trust fund that Grandfather left me; you know that.”

“But you’ll be entitled to a lot more when your father dies. This sort of thing is not exactly going to encourage him to leave it to you.”

“I don’t care,” Helen said flatly, and Sophia sighed.

“I know you don’t care, and I will never understand why. Your whole life I have tried to guide you, advise you on how a person of your status should behave, and you have done nothing but disregard every word I’ve said. When I think...”

“We’re not going to play that tape again, are we?” Helen asked gently.

Sophia pressed her lips together, swallowing her words. “No, I guess we’re not. But I would like to know if any pressure can be brought to bear on the father. If you don’t marry Roberto I assume you’ll marry him.”

“Pressure? Are we talking about money again?”

“You’ll find that it can be very persuasive to people who don’t have it,” Sophia commented dryly.

“It might interest you to know that I have already offered him money, not to marry me, but to use for something that’s very important to him. He refused it.”

“That sounds like someone who would fascinate you,” Sophia said despairingly, and Helen chuckled.

“Cheer up, Sophia, that’s good news. I wouldn’t pressure him if I could. For once in my cautious, circumspect life I took a chance. Do you know what that feels like? And I’m not sorry; I’m not sorry at all. I had a wonderful experience with the man I love and I’m going to have his baby.”

“And the identity of this paragon is going to remain a mystery,” Sophia stated.

Helen didn’t reply, aware that reiterating the truth was futile.

Sophia nodded. “I can see that my mother will never be dead as long as you’re walking around. She was as stubborn as you are.”

“A bad trait that skipped a generation as we all know.”

Sophia stood, tucking her bag under her arm and patting her hair with her other hand. “We’ll have to make plans,” she said. “You’ll have to have a shower, of course.”

“No shower,” Helen answered quickly. “For once, bypass an excuse to give a party.” Sophia was amazing; in almost the same breath she could complain about the scandal of an illegitimate child and then plan a fete to celebrate its imminent arrival.

“You really want to do this all by yourself?” Sophia asked doubtfully.

Helen could understand her mother’s incomprehension. She had never taken a step in her life without a husband, her family and an army of servants to back her up.

“I’m not by myself. The baby is with me.”

Sophia shrugged. “I really don’t know what I hoped to accomplish by making this trip. You’d think I would understand by now that I can never persuade you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Helen smiled. “But you wouldn’t be my mother if you didn’t try.”

“That’s true,” Sophia said, and they both laughed.

“Can I offer you something to eat?” Helen said politely, anxious to end the discussion of her dubious future.

“No thank you,” said Sophia, who counted calories with anorexic intensity. She glanced at her Piaget watch, a gift from spouse number two; Sophia parted with the husbands, but not the perks. “I have to be running along, I’m meeting Richard Worthington for dinner.”

“How is Richard?” Helen asked about the man who had been trying to get her mother to marry him for twenty years. Poor Richard, he just never had enough assets to interest Sophia on a serious basis.

“Divorced again,” Sophia replied. “I hear she ran off with a tuba player.”

Helen managed not to laugh but her grin was roguish.

“Yes, I know,” Sophia said airily, “we’re all very funny to you, aren’t we? You think you’re so superior, with your principled phantom lover and your precious little bundle on the way. I can’t wait for you to become a mother. Then maybe you’ll know what it’s like to have your child reject you and everything you represent. Maybe you’ll understand my pain.”

Helen was shocked to see that there were tears in Sophia’s eyes. She went to her mother and put her arm around her shoulder, hugging her close.

“I’m not rejecting you, mother,” she said quietly. “I’m just different, that’s all, you know I always have been. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I do.”

“And I love you, baby,” Sophia said huskily, kissing her cheek. Then she collected herself and dabbed at her eyes with her forefinger, making sure that her mascara didn’t smear.

“I suppose I’ll be permitted to buy a layette for my grandchild. That won’t be forbidden, will it?” Sophia said briskly, smoothing the unwrinkled skirt of her dress.

“Nothing is forbidden except purchasing a husband for me.”

“I’ve given up on that idea,” Sophia said. “Never fear.”

“Good.”

“And you’ll visit, with the baby?”

“Of course,” Helen said. She knew that for all Sophia’s constant traveling and partying, her mother was lonely.

“Then I suppose that’s all I can do,” Sophia announced. “You will call me if you need anything?”

“I’ll call, but I don’t think I’ll be needing anything.”

“As independent as ever,” Sophia said, shaking her head. “If your child is anything like you, I’ll wind up devoting all my time to good works.”

“That might be a nice change,” Helen said.

Sophia shot her a look. “Just don’t disappear without letting me know, all right?”

“All right, I promise.”

Sophia turned to go and then stopped, eyeing Helen with something like envy.

“You say you were in love with this man, the baby’s father?”

“Very much. I still am.”

“Well, that’s something, anyway.”

“That’s everything,” Helen replied, and Sophia surprised her once more by nodding slowly.

“I suppose you’re right,” she said softly. “I was in love with your father when I had you.”

“I know,” Helen whispered sympathetically.

Sophia shook her head as if to dispense with unproductive memories. “Goodbye, darling, and keep in touch,” she said, going for the door.

“Goodbye,” Helen echoed, watching through the window as her mother climbed into her hired limousine and headed off to a rendezvous with her admirer.

Helen went back to her work and didn’t get up from the table until dinnertime. She flicked on the television as she walked past it, intending to listen to the five o’clock news and see if the Indian summer heat was about to break.

The announcer reviewed various domestic crises and then said, “At the top of the international news is the revolution in the tiny Central American country of Puerta Linda. Rebel forces under the leadership of Matteo Salazar de Montega last night deposed the military government there and are now in control of the capital city of San Jacinta. The coup was bloodless, and Montega is reportedly advocating a policy of non-retaliation against the members of the previous regime. A free election is scheduled to take place in a matter of months.”

Helen sank to the sofa in silence, her hands to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears of joy.

Chapter 11

“Montega,” the news commentator went on to say, “considered to be one of the young turks of Central American politics, was educated in the United States, where he lived and worked for thirteen years. He is a democratic thinker whose American ideas were said to offend some of his colleagues, who resented the old government’s alliance with the U.S. There is little doubt, however, that these differences will fade in light of yesterday’s victory, largely the result of his brilliant field tactics and charismatic leadership.”

Helen sat transfixed, her gaze never wavering from the television. An old photograph of Matteo flashed onto the screen, identified as his Columbia yearbook picture. His hair was cut in the style of the mid-seventies, and he grinned confidently into the camera, totally at ease.

The hair had changed but not the smile.

“Montega orchestrated a carefully mounted campaign of raids on government installations, gradually weakening the military’s power to resist, and then struck the final blow, taking over the official buildings in San Jacinta about 1:00 a.m. this morning, Eastern Standard Time. The leading figures of the ousted regime are in custody and Montega insists that they will be treated fairly. He will head a provisional government until power can be passed into the hands of ministers duly elected by the people.”

“Good for you, Matteo,” Helen whispered, clasping her hands at her breast. “Good for you.”

“And in a related story,” the newscaster said, “the FBI today announced that it was dropping illegal purchase of firearms charges against Montega, who had been wanted for an incident involving stolen guns last March. The Bureau insists that its move has nothing to do with the coup in Puerta Linda, but speculation is rife that this gesture of goodwill to the newly powerful Central American leader was an effort to keep an ally the United States needs in that troubled area of the globe.”

The commentator moved along to another story, and Helen rose to shut off the set, still in a daze.

Matteo had realized his dream. He would now have what he’d worked so long and hard to achieve: freedom for his people to control their own government.

At the same time Helen knew that there was no place in his life for her. Ever since she’d left him she had hoped there would be, but as the weeks passed without word she accepted what she’d known in her heart since she climbed into Paolo’s helicopter.

There was no question in Helen’s mind that Matteo had cared about her, perhaps more than he’d cared about any other other woman in his life. But she had a rival, as Theresa said, and Helen had always come second to Puerta Linda. That had never been more true than at this moment of triumph, when he could look to the future and see the possibility of things he had once only imagined.

She wiped her eyes and got up to make her dinner, thinking that three months was too long to wait for the arrival of Matteo’s child.

* * *

Matteo Montega stared out the window of the military barracks in San Jacinta, his mind in turmoil. He hardly looked up when he heard the door across the room shut, but he was forced to recognize the man who moved into his field of vision and stood there, waiting for an audience.