Now and Forever (35 page)

She watched her leave and waved from the bedroom window. Jessie was alone in the house now except for the cat, which was parading slowly across the window-seat. There were country sounds from outside, and a delicious silence all around her in the airy, sun-filled house. She wandered barefoot down the long upstairs hall, peeking into rooms, opening books, pirouetting here and there, looking at paintings, chasing the cat, and then went downstairs to do more of the same. She was free! Free! For the first time in seven years, ten years, fifty years, forever, she was free. Of burdens, responsibilities, and terrors. The day before she had hit rock bottom. The last support of her decaying foundation had come tumbling, roaring down ... and she hadn't fallen with it. Astrid had held her up, and taken her away.

But the best part of all was that she hadn't cracked. She would remember all her life that moment when two strangers had pulled her back from the steering wheel where she was pressing on the horn. She had decided to let herself go crazy then, just slide into a pool of oblivion, never to return to the land of the ugly and dying and evil, the land of the "living." But she hadn't gone crazy at all. She had hurt. More than she had ever hurt in her life. But she hadn't gone crazy. And here she was, wandering around a delightful house in the country, barefoot, in her nightgown, with a huge breakfast in her stomach and a smile on her face.

And the amazing thing was that she didn't need Ian. Without him, the roof hadn't fallen in. It was a new idea to Jessie, and she didn't quite know what to do with it yet. It changed everything.

It was late in the afternoon of her first day on the ranch that Jessica decided to sit down and write to Ian. She wanted to let him know where she was. She still felt she had to check in. But it was hard to explain to him why she was there. Having kept up the front for so long, it was difficult to tell him just what kind of shape she'd been in behind the facade. She had blown it the day before, but now she had to sit down and tell him quietly. It turned every "fine" she had ever told him into a lie. And most of them had been lies. She hadn't been willing to admit to herself how far from fine she was, and now she had to do both--admit it to herself and to him. She had no more accusations to level at him, but no explanations she wanted to give either.

Words didn't come easily. What could you say? I love you, darling, but I also hate you ... I've always been afraid to lose you, but now I'm not sure anymore ... get lost ... she grinned at the thought, but then tried to get serious. Where to begin? And there were questions. So many questions. Suddenly she wondered how many other women there had been. And why. Because she was inadequate, or because he was hungry, or because he needed to prove something, or ... why? Her parents had never asked each other questions, but they had been wrong, or at least, wrong for her. She had followed their example, but now she wanted answers, or thought she did. But she recognized the possibility that the answers she sought were her own. Did she love Ian? Or only need him? Did she need him, or only someone? And how do you ask seven years of questions in half a page of letter ... do you respect me? Why? How can you? She wasn't sure if she loved or respected him or herself at this point.

She wanted to take the easy way out and simply tell him about Mrs. Williams and the ranch, but that seemed dishonest. And so it took her two hours to write the letter. It was one page long. She told him that yesterday had shown her she needed a rest Astrid had come up with a marvelous suggestion, her mother's ranch.

It is precisely the kind of place where I can finally relax, come to my senses, breathe again, and be myself. Myself being, these days, an odd combination of who I used to be, who I have been catapulted into being during the past six months, and who I am becoming. It all frightens me more than a little. But even that is changing somewhat, Ian. I am tired of always being so frightened. It must have been a great burden on you all this time, my constant fears. But I am growing now. Perhaps "up"; I don't know yet. Keep at the book, you're right, and I'm sorry for yesterday. I will regret all our lives that we have borne all of this with such dignity and self-control. Perhaps if we had screamed, shrieked, kicked, yelled, and tore at our hair on the courtroom floor instead--perhaps we'd both be in better shape now. It has to come out sooner or later. I'm working on that now. Right? Well, darling. I love you. J.

She hesitated lengthily with the letter in her hands, and then folded it carefully and put it into an envelope There was much she had not said. She just didn't want to say it yet. And she carefully inscribed his name on the envelope. But not her own. She wondered if he would think the lack of a return address was an oversight. It wasn't.

Jessica joined Astrid's mother in the living room for an after-dinner drink.

"You have no idea how happy you've made Astrid, my dear. She needs something to do. Lately all she's done is spend money. That's not healthy. The constant acquisition of meaningless possessions, just to pass the time. She doesn't enjoy it, she just does it to fill a void. But your boutique will fill that void in a far better way."

"I met her through the boutique, as a matter of fact She just walked in one day, and we liked each other. And she's been so good to me. I hope she really enjoys the shop this week. I'm relieved to be away from it."

"Astrid mentioned that you'd had a hard time of late."

Jessie nodded, subdued.

"You'll grow from it in the end. But how disagreeable life can be while one grows!" She laughed over her Campari, and Jessie smiled. "I've always had a passionate dislike for character-building situations. But in the end, they turn out to be worthwhile, I suppose."

"I'm not sure I'd call my situation worthwhile. I suspect it's going to be the end of my marriage." There was a look of overwhelming sorrow in Jessica's eyes, but she was almost certain that she knew her mind now. She simply hadn't wanted to admit it to herself before this.

"Is that what you want now, child? Freedom from your marriage?" She was sitting quietly by the fire, watching Jessica's face intently.

"No, not my freedom, really. I've never had problems about my freedom.' I love being married. But I think we've reached a time when we're simply destroying each other, and it will only get worse. In looking back now, I wonder if we didn't always destroy each other. But it's different now. I see it. And there's no excuse for letting it continue once you see."

"I suppose you'll have to take the matter in hand, then. How does your husband feel about it?" Jessie paused for a moment.

"I don't know. He's ... he's in prison right now." She couldn't think of anyone else she would have told, and she didn't know that Astrid had already told her mother, only that Bethanie appeared to take the news in stride. "And we've had to visit each other under such strained conditions that it's been difficult to talk. It's even hard to think. You feel obliged to be so staunch and brave and noble, that you don't dare admit even to yourself, let alone each other, that you've just plain had it."

"Have you 'had it'?" She smiled gently, but Jessie did not return the smile as she nodded. "It must be very hard for you, Jessica. Considering the guilt attached to leaving someone who's in a difficult situation."

"I think that's why I haven't allowed myself to think. Not past a certain point Because I didn't dare 'betray' him, even in my thoughts. And because I wanted to think of myself as noble and long-suffering. And because I was ... scared to. I was afraid that if I let go, I'd never find my way back again."

"The funny thing is that one always does. We are all so much tougher than we think."

"I guess I'm beginning to understand now. It's taken me a terribly long time. But yesterday everything fell apart. Ian and I had an all-out fight where we both went for the jugular with everything we said, and I just let myself go afterward. I almost tempted the fates to break me. And ..." She raised her hands palm up with a philosophical shrug. "Here I am. Still in one piece."

"That surprises you?" The old woman was amused.

"Very much."

"You've never been through crises before?"

"Yes. My parents died. And my brother was killed in Vietnam. But ... I had Ian. Ian buffered everything, Ian played ten thousand roles and wore a million different hats for me."

"That's a lot to ask of anyone."

"Not a lot. It's too much. Which is probably why he's in prison."

"I see. You blame yourself?"

"In a way."

"Jessica, why can't you let Ian have the right to his own mistakes? Whatever got him into prison, no matter how closely it relates to you--doesn't he have a right to own that mistake, whatever it was?"

"It was rape."

"I see. And you committed the rape for him." Jessica giggled nervously.

"No, of course not. I ..."

"You what?"

"Well, I made him unhappy. Put a lot of pressure on him, paid the bills, robbed him of his manhood ..."

"You did all that for him?" The older woman smiled and Jessica smiled too. "Don't you suppose he could have said no?" Jessica thought about it and then nodded.

"Maybe he couldn't say no, though. Maybe he was afraid to."

"Ah, but then it's not your responsibility, is it? Why must you wear so much guilt? Do you like it?" The younger woman shook her head and looked away.

"No. And the absurd thing is that he didn't commit the rape. I know that But the key to the whole thing is why he was in a position even to be accused of rape. And I can't absolve myself."

"Can you absolve the woman, whoever she was?"

"Of course, I ..." And then Jessica looked up, stunned. She had forgiven Margaret Burton. Somewhere along the line, she had forgiven her. The war with Margaret Burton was over. It was one less weight on her heart "I'd never thought of that before, not lately."

"I see. I'm intrigued to know how you robbed him of his manhood, by the way."

"I supported him."

"He didn't work?" There was no judgment in Bethanie's voice, only a question.

"He worked very hard. He's a writer."

"Published?"

"Several times. A novel, a book of fables, several articles, poems."

"Is he any good?"

"Very--he's just not very successful financially. Yet. But he will be." The pride in her voice surprised her, but not Bethanie.

"Then how dreadful of you to encourage him. What a shocking thing to do." Bethanie smiled as she sipped her Campari.

"No, I ... it's just that I think he hates me for having 'kept' him."

"He probably does. But he probably loves you for it too. There are two sides to every medal, you know, Jessica. I'm sure he knows that too. But I'm still not quite clear about why you want to get out of the marriage."

"I didn't say that. I just said that I thought the marriage would end."

"All by itself? With no one to help it along? My dear, how extraordinary!" The two women laughed and then Bethanie waited. She was adept with her questions. Astrid had known she would be, and had purposely not warned Jessica. Bethanie made one think.

Jessica looked up after a long pause and found the core of Bethanie's eyes. She looked right into them. "I think the marriage already has ended. All by itself. No one killed it. We just let it die. Neither of us was brave enough to kill it, or save it. We just used it for our own purposes, and then let it expire. Like a library card in a town you no longer live in."

"Was it a good library?"

"Excellent At the time."

"Then don't throw the card away. You might want to go back, and you can have the card renewed."

"I don't think I'd want to."

"He makes you unhappy, then?"

"Worse. I'd destroy him."

"Oh, for God's sake, child. How incredibly boring of you--you're being noble. Do stop thinking of him, and think of yourself. I'm sure that's all he's doing. At least I hope so."

"But what if I'm not good for him and never was good for him, and ... what if I hate the life I lead now, waiting for him?" Now they were getting to the root of it. "What if I'm afraid that I only used him, and I'm not even sure if I love him anymore? Maybe I just need someone, and not specifically Ian."

"Then you have some things to think out Have you seen other men since he's been gone?"

"No, of course not."

"Why not?" Jessica looked shocked and Bethanie laughed "Don't look at me like that, my dear. I may be ancient, but I'm not dead yet I tell Astrid the same thing. I don't know what's wrong with your generation. You're all supposed to be so liberated, but you're all terribly prim and proper. It could just be that you need to be loved. You don't have to sell yourself on a street comer, but you might find a pleasant friend."

"I don't think I could do that, and stay with Ian."

"Then maybe you ought to leave him for a while, and see what you want Perhaps he is a part of your past. The main thing is not to waste your present. I never have, and that's why I'm a happy old woman."

"And not an 'old' woman."

Bethanie made a face at the compliment "Flattery won't do at all! I seem extremely old to me, each time I look in the mirror, but at least I've enjoyed myself on the way. And I'm not saying that I've been a libertine. I haven't. I'm merely saying that I didn't lock myself in a closet and then find myself hating someone for what I chose to do to myself. That's what you're doing right now. You're punishing your husband for something he can't help, and it sounds to me as though he's been punished enough, and unjustly at that. What you have to think about, and with great seriousness, is whether or not you can accept what happened. If you can, then perhaps it'll all work itself out. But if you're going to try to get restitution from him for the rest of your lives, then you might as well give up now. You can only make someone feel guilty for so long. A man won't take much of that, and the backlash from him will be rather nasty."

"It already has been." Jessica was thinking back to the argument in Vacaville as she looked dreamily into the fire.

"No man can take that for very long. Nor any woman. Who wants to feel guilty eternally? You make mistakes, you say you're sorry, you pay a price, and that's about it. You can't ask him to pay and pay and pay again. Hell end up hating you for it, Jessica. And maybe you're not just making him suffer for the present. Maybe you're just using this as an opportunity to collect an old debt. I may be wrong, but we all do that at times."