Possessions (78 page)

“Because I got myself into a mess and didn't know how to get out. I was scared. Too scared even to ask your mother to help me. It wasn't very smart. In fact, it was stupid. If you're lucky enough to have people love you, you ought to be smart enough to let them help you when you need it.”

Katherine sat on the arm of the couch and touched Craig's cheek. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I wish—”

He looked up quickly, but she stopped. It was too late for them. She clasped her hands in her lap.

Todd scowled, furiously blinking back his tears. “What's going to happen to all of us?”

“I'm going back to Canada,” Craig answered. “And as soon as I find a place to live, with an extra bedroom, you'll come for a visit. Lots of visits. All you have to do is tell me when you want to come, and I'll be ready.”

“Like Carrie and Jon,” said Jennifer. “They see Ross a lot.”

“Ross has children,” Craig murmured. “Funny; in my mind he's still twenty years old, a college kid. Do you see them often?” he asked Jennifer.

“Sort of.”

He gave a small smile. “It's all right if you like Ross, Jenny. He and I grew up together, you know. I always thought he was . . . I loved Ross and my sister better than any other people in the world. That was a long time ago.”

Abruptly, Katherine turned away. Nothing is simple, she thought.

“We love him, too,” Jennifer said. “Not the same as you. Different.”

Craig nodded. “I'll bet he loves you, too. Hold on.” He took his arms from their shoulders and stood up, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief. No one moved. Then he turned briskly. “If I'm going to find a place to live, I'd better start. I have a lot to do. I'll call you very soon—”

“When?” Todd demanded.

“In a day or two, as soon as I've decided what I'm going to do.”

“Tonight,” Todd insisted.

Smiling, Craig leaned over to kiss them both. “I won't disappear again. But I'll call you tonight, if you want. And tomorrow. And as often as you like. I'll even write to you if you promise to write back.”

Jennifer and Todd looked at each other. “We're not much good at writing letters,” said Todd.

“Then you need practice,” Craig declared. “Now, would you do something for me?” They nodded watchfully. “Go on into your bedroom. I want to say goodbye to your mother.”

Todd sprang up and threw his arms around him. “You'll call
tonight.”

“I promise,” Craig replied, holding him tight. “I love you, Todd.” He let him go and held Jennifer. “Goodbye, my lovely Jenny. I'll see you soon.”

When they were gone, he said, “They're so wonderful. Like their mother.” He cleared his throat and tried to smile as he and Katherine walked to the door. “A man couldn't ask for a better family. And I threw it away. Dear God, Katherine”—he put his arms around her—“isn't there any way—?”

“No.” She raised her hand to brush the hair back from his
forehead, as she had done countless times in their years together.
“You
were wonderful, with them. Thank you.”

He grimaced. “What difference does it make? It's too late.”

“Not for the life you make from now on. And I'll help you, any way I can.” She smiled. “You can tell me anything now. I'll be here, if you need to talk—”

“But that's all,” he said.

“That's all. But I care about you. You'll always have that.”

He tightened his hold, pulling her close again, and Katherine put her arms around him, her cheek against his. They stood that way, without speaking, as the air grew lighter and the fog pushed in from the ocean, and then they moved apart, and in another moment he was gone.

T
HE
night was so quiet Ross heard his footsteps echo through the house and out to the hushed coolness of the deck. He had tried to sleep and given up; some nights were worse than others, and this night, for some reason, seemed the worst of all: filled with longings and memories.

In the living room he poured himself a drink, then wandered through the rooms, turning lights on and off, seeing Katherine wherever he looked.

In his bedroom, an enlarged, framed photograph stood on the dresser: Katherine, on the boat, her hair lifted by the wind, her eyes laughing into his. Beside it was another, snapped surreptitiously by Carrie on the terrace in Menton: Ross and Katherine in conversation, absorbed in each other, smiling, in love. He ran his finger along the glass over their two faces.
Katherine.

On the living room desk was a lucite paperweight Katherine had made in the shape of a curved sail; engraved on it was a sketch of Ross's boat, with a seagull wheeling above. Holding the polished curve on his hand, Ross sat on the couch, staring
at the wall.
To take up such a large space in my life, in so short a time . . .

The telephone was beside him. His hand touched it, then drew back. Ridiculous; it was two thirty in the morning; she'd be sound asleep. Besides, he had promised he would not call. He'd gone too far as it was, at the Halloween ball; because he was so damned impatient.

On the table was a book he had bought the day before; he lay back on the couch and opened it. And then suddenly a misty early morning light was coming through the glass doors and Ross awoke, the book still in his hands, and thought, as if he had not slept at all,
Katherine.

It was six o'clock. The bridges were shrouded in fog, their towers jutting above it like miniature steeples floating above the clouds. Ross went through his morning routine, listening to a newscast as he dressed, reading the newspaper while drinking his coffee. And then he left the house.

He was backing his car out of the driveway when a taxi approached. He stopped to let it go by, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as it slowed to a crawl, but in the next moment he knew.
Katherine.
And then she was there, opening the door and jumping out before the taxi came to a full stop.

After all the hours of imagining her before him, he could not move. Then he saw her smile. Through the pounding of his heart he took a deep breath and threw open his car door to take long strides across the grass, his eyes on hers.

“Lady?” The taxi driver's voice was rising. “Lady, did you hear me? You owe me—”

“I heard you,” said Ross, and pulled out his wallet.

“No,” Katherine said. “Wait. I have it, I just—for a minute, I didn't hear him.”

Ross held out some bills. “Keep it.”

The driver's eyes brightened. “No kidding. You want a receipt?”

“No. This is a special occasion.”

“No kidding. That's what the lady said.”

“Did she,” Ross murmured. He put his arm around Katherine to lead her to the house. “You look like you didn't get enough sleep.”

“I didn't get any.”

He stopped, his hands on her shoulders, searching her face. “He called? Or came to you?”

“He came about midnight. We talked all night.”

“And he left?”

“Yes.”

Ross felt his pounding heart slow; he took a long breath, almost weightless with relief and love. With their arms around each other, they walked through the house to the deck. Looking at her pallor, he asked, “Have you had breakfast?”

She shook her head. “Jennifer and Todd had an early rehearsal at school, and I fixed them something, but I wasn't hungry. And I was in a hurry to get here, before you left.”

“I would have waited if you'd let me know you were coming.”

“I didn't want to let you know. I wanted to surprise you.”

He laughed softly. “And so you did. Wait here; I'll get you some food.”

“Just coffee would be fine.” When he was gone, Katherine lay back on the chaise. “Don't do that,” she said aloud. “You'll fall asleep.” She forced herself upright, half-closing her eyes against the glare of the sun, floating on the golden light and the early-morning fragrance of roses and carnations. She took off her jacket, the heat flowing through her, making her bones feel liquid. Her head began to droop and then she heard footsteps and opened her eyes to see Ross putting a tray on the table in front of her.

“Orange juice and coffee. I didn't want to take the time for something dramatic, like waffles. Are you all right?”

“I came to propose to you,” she said.

“Yes.”

“You knew that?”

“I mean, my answer is yes.”

She laughed and rested her cheek against his tweed jacket. “I was hoping it would be.”

Ross kissed the top of her head. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“So much happened. It seemed like a lifetime, in one night.” Waves of sleepiness lapped at Katherine and she swayed against Ross. “I didn't really understand how much I'd changed until I talked to Craig—heard him talk—about himself, and us.”

“We've all changed,” said Ross. “But you more than anyone. I tried to tell you that.”

“I know. But I couldn't put it all together—what I had been and what I'd become and why I hadn't been able to do it before. Then Craig came and every time I looked at him it was as if I were looking at what I used to be. Remember,” she went on sleepily, “once I told you I missed being able to predict tomorrow? That was only because I was afraid.”

“And you're not afraid now?”

“No. Not since some time last night, when I saw how far I'd come by myself. That was when I knew I wanted you.” Over the edge of her coffee cup, she smiled at Ross. “I knew I could be a whole person by myself, but I knew my life would be richer with you in it. I want you to let me face things on my own, the way you did when you said we should stay away from each other, but I want you to care about me, too, and protect me—and I want to help you when you need it . . . the two of us, sharing the good times and helping each other through the bad ones . . . Ross, I'm so sleepy . . . am I making sense?”

“You're promising,” he said gravely, “to be less fierce about your independence as long as I help you without diminishing it—and let you do the same for me. As long as we keep a balance between us.”

“Not easy,” she murmured.

“We'll probably manage it about half the time, and work on the rest. Is that good enough?”

“It's wonderful.” Katherine laughed, her love for him welling up through her sleepiness, making everything seem possible. She looked at the fog, burning away in the hot sun, and the skyscrapers across the bay, shimmering like an enchanted city filled with happy endings. “If you're lucky enough to have people love you,” she said softly, “you ought to be smart enough to let them help you when you need it. Craig said that, when he was explaining to Jennifer and Todd why he'd been wrong.”

“Then he's learned more than I thought he could. Will he go to Elissa?”

“I don't know. I hope so.”

“And Jennifer and Todd?”

“They told him they love you. Not the way they love him,
but . . . Oh,
damn,
I wish there was a way to build happiness without sadness somewhere underneath.”

Ross took her in his arms and they held each other. “Katherine, I love you,” he said, moving his lips slowly against hers. He kissed her eyes as she fought to keep them open. “My sleepy darling, I promise to share with you everything I am and everything I dream of, if you'll do the same for me.”

Katherine's eyelids flew open. “I forgot to tell you. Xavier's called. I have an appointment tomorrow.”

“Another beginning.” He smiled. “We'll have a celebration. Trumpets and fireworks and champagne. And eventually, when the laws of California are satisfied, a wedding. With four offspring in the cheering section.”

Katherine put her arms around him and opened her mouth beneath his. Their bodies met, remembering, and they stood together and walked with their arms around each other into the house, to the shadowed coolness of Ross's bedroom. But the instant the mattress yielded beneath their weight, Katherine drooped.

“Ross, do you mind—?” she asked. “I'm so sorry, but would you mind very much if I just went to sleep?”

Holding her, he laughed with pure joy. “Dear one,” he said, “we have a lifetime ahead of us.” He took off her shoes and laid her on the bed, her head on his pillow.

“But wake me up,” she said drowsily. “I promised Jennifer and Todd I'd be there at three . . .”

“I'll go. I want to stop at the office; I'll pick them up and bring them here.”

“And we have to call Victoria and Tobias.” Her voice was barely a murmur. “They'll be hurt if we don't tell them right away . . .”

“I'll invite us there for dinner tonight. Would you like that? The four of us, and Carrie and Jon, and Victoria and Tobias. A family dinner.”

Katherine's lips curved in a smile. “A family dinner. I love you, Ross.”

He put a light blanket over her and drew the drapes, then stood for a moment beside the bed. Katherine held up her arms. Bending down, Ross kissed her closed eyes. “Sleep well, my love. You've come home.”

J
UDITH
B
ARNARD
and M
ICHAEL
F
AIN—
the two halves of “Judith Michael”—are husband and wife writing partners whose first two novels,
Deceptions
and
Possessions,
were bestsellers. Judith Barnard is also the author of the novel
The Past and Present of Solomon Sorge
and has been a journalist and literary critic. Michael Fain, a former aerospace scientist and science writer, is also a professional photographer.

Books by Judith Michael

Deceptions

Possessions

Private Affairs