Rage of Angels (13 page)

It had been three weeks since Jennifer had had dinner with Adam at Lutèce. She tried to put him out of her mind, but everything reminded her of Adam: A chance phrase, the back of a stranger’s head, a tie similar to the one he had worn. There were many men who tried to date her. She was propositioned by clients, by attorneys she had opposed in court and by a night-court judge, but Jennifer wanted none of them. Lawyers invited her out for what was cynically referred to as “funch,” but she was not interested. There was an independence about her that was a challenge to men.

Ken Bailey was always there, but that fact did nothing to assuage Jennifer’s loneliness. There was only one person who could do that, damn him!

He telephoned on a Monday morning. “I thought I’d take a chance and see if you happened to be free for lunch today.”

She was not. She said, “Of course I am.”

Jennifer had sworn to herself that if Adam ever called her
again she would be friendly yet distant, and courteous but definitely not available.

The moment she heard Adam’s voice she forgot all those things and said,
Of course I am.

The last thing in the world she should have said.

They had lunch at a small restaurant in Chinatown, and they talked steadily for two hours that seemed like two minutes. They talked about law and politics and the theater, and solved all the complex problems of the world. Adam was brilliant and incisive and fascinating. He was genuinely interested in what Jennifer was doing, and took a joyous pride in her successes.
He has a right to
, Jennifer thought.
If not for him, I’d be back in Kelso, Washington.

When Jennifer returned to the office, Ken Bailey was waiting for her.

“Have a good lunch?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Is Adam Warner going to become a client?” His tone was too casual.

“No, Ken. We’re just friends.”

And it was true.

The following week, Adam invited Jennifer to have lunch in the private dining room of his law firm. Jennifer was impressed with the huge, modern complex of offices. Adam introduced her to various members of the firm, and Jennifer felt like a minor celebrity, for they seemed to know all about her. She met Stewart Needham, the senior partner. He was distantly polite to Jennifer, and she remembered that Adam was married to his niece.

Adam and Jennifer had lunch in the walnut-paneled dining room run by a chef and two waiters.

“This is where the partners bring their problems.”

Jennifer wondered whether he was referring to her. It was hard for her to concentrate on the meal.

Jennifer thought about Adam all that afternoon. She knew she had to forget about him, had to stop seeing him. He belonged to another woman.

That night, Jennifer went with Ken Bailey to see
Two by Two,
the new Richard Rodgers show.

As they stepped into the lobby there was an excited buzz from the crowd, and Jennifer turned to see what was happening. A long, black limousine had pulled up to the curb and a man and woman were stepping out of the car.

“It’s him!” a woman exclaimed, and people began to gather around the car. The burly chauffeur stepped aside and Jennifer saw Michael Moretti and his wife. It was Michael that the crowd focused on. He was a folk hero, handsome enough to be a movie star, daring enough to have captured everyone’s imagination. Jennifer stood in the lobby watching as Michael Moretti and his wife made their way through the crowd. Michael passed within three feet of Jennifer, and for an instant their eyes met. Jennifer noticed that his eyes were so black that she could not see his pupils. A moment later he disappeared into the theater.

Jennifer was unable to enjoy the show. The sight of Michael Moretti had brought back a flood of fiercely humiliating memories. Jennifer asked Ken to take her home after the first act.

Adam telephoned Jennifer the next day and Jennifer steeled herself to refuse his invitation.
Thank you, Adam, but I’m really very busy.

But all Adam said was, “I have to go out of the country for a while.”

It was like a blow to the stomach. “How—how long will you be gone?”

“Just a few weeks. I’ll give you a call when I get back.”

“Fine,” Jennifer said brightly. “Have a nice trip.”

She felt as though someone had died. She visualized Adam on a beach in Rio, surrounded by half-naked girls, or in a penthouse in Mexico City, drinking margaritas with a nubile, dark-eyed beauty, or in a Swiss chalet making love to—
Stop it!
Jennifer told herself. She should have asked him where he was going. It was probably a business trip to some dreary place where he would have no time for women, perhaps the middle of some desert where he would be working twenty-four hours a day.

She should have broached the subject, very casually, of course.
Will you be taking a long plane trip? Do you speak any foreign languages? If you get to Paris, bring me back some Vervaine tea. I suppose the shots must be painful. Are you taking your wife with you? Am I losing my mind?

Ken had come into her office and was staring at her. “You’re talking to yourself. Are you okay?”

No!
Jennifer wanted to shout.
I need a doctor. I need a cold shower. I need Adam Warner.

She said, “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“Why don’t you get to bed early tonight?”

She wondered whether Adam would be going to bed early.

Father Ryan called. “I went to see Connie Garrett. She told me you’ve dropped by a few times.”

“Yes.” The visits were to assuage her feeling of guilt because she was unable to be of any help. It was frustrating.

Jennifer plunged herself into work, and still the weeks seemed to drag by. She was in court nearly every day and worked on briefs almost every night.

“Slow down. You’re going to kill yourself,” Ken advised her.

But Jennifer needed to exhaust herself physically and
mentally. She did not want to have time to think.
I’m a fool,
she thought.
An unadulterated fool.

It was four weeks before Adam called.

“I just got back,” he said. The sound of his voice thrilled her. “Can we meet for lunch somewhere?”

“Yes. I’d enjoy that, Adam.” She thought she had carried that off well. A simple
Yes, I’d enjoy that, Adam.

“The Oak Room in the Plaza?”

“Fine.”

It was the most businesslike, unromantic dining room in the world, filled with affluent middle-aged wheelers and dealers, stockbrokers and bankers. It had long been one of the few remaining bastions of privacy for men, and its doors had only recently been opened to women.

Jennifer arrived early and was seated. A few minutes later, Adam appeared. Jennifer watched the tall, lean figure moving toward her and her mouth suddenly went dry. He looked tanned, and Jennifer wondered if her fantasies about Adam on some girl-ridden beach had been true. He smiled at her and took her hand, and Jennifer knew in that moment that it did not matter what logic she used about Adam Warner or married men. She had no control over herself. It was as though someone else were guiding her, telling her what she should do, telling her what she must do. She could not explain what was happening to her, for she had never experienced anything like it.
Call it chemistry,
she thought.
Call it karma, call it heaven.
All Jennifer knew was that she wanted to be in Adam Warner’s arms more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. Looking at him, she visualized his making love to her, holding her, his hard body on top of her, inside her, and she felt her face becoming red.

Adam said apologetically, “Sorry about the short notice. A client canceled a luncheon date.”

Jennifer silently blessed the client.

“I brought you something,” Adam said. It was a lovely green and gold silk scarf. “It’s from Milan.”

So
that’s
where he had been.
Italian girls.
“It’s beautiful, Adam. Thank you.”

“Have you ever been to Milan?”

“No. I’ve seen pictures of the cathedral there. It’s lovely.”

“I’m not much of a sightseer. My theory is that if you’ve seen one church, you’ve seen them all.”

Later, when Jennifer thought about that luncheon, she tried to remember what they had talked about, what they had eaten, who had stopped by the table to say hello to Adam, but all she could remember was the nearness of Adam, his touch, his looks. It was as though he had her in some kind of spell and she was mesmerized, helpless to break it.

At one point Jennifer thought,
I know what to do. I’ll make love with him. Once. It can’t be as wonderful as my fantasies. Then I’ll be able to get over him.

When their hands touched accidentally, it was like an electric charge between them. They sat there talking of everything and nothing, and their words had no meaning. They sat at the table, locked in an invisible embrace, caressing each other, making fierce love, naked and wanton. Neither of them had any idea what they were eating or what they were saying. There was a different, more demanding hunger in them and it kept mounting and mounting, until neither of them could stand it any longer.

In the middle of their luncheon, Adam put his hand over Jennifer’s and said huskily, “Jennifer—”

She whispered, “Yes. Let’s get out of here.”

Jennifer waited in the busy, crowded lobby while Adam registered at the desk. They were given a room in the old section of the Plaza Hotel, overlooking 58th Street. They used the back bank of elevators, and it seemed to Jennifer that it took forever to reach their floor.

If Jennifer was unable to remember anything about the
luncheon, she remembered everything about their room. Years later, she could recall the view, the color of the drapes and carpets, and each picture and piece of furniture. She could remember the sounds of the city, far below, that drifted into the room. The images of that afternoon were to stay with her the rest of her life. It was a magic, multicolored explosion in slow motion. It was having Adam undress her, it was Adam’s strong, lean body in bed, his roughness and his gentleness. It was laughter and passion. Their hunger had built to a greed that had to be satisfied. The moment Adam began to make love to her, the words that flashed into Jennifer’s mind were,
I’m lost.

They made love again and again, and each time was an ecstasy that was almost unbearable.

Hours later, as they lay there quietly, Adam said, “I feel as though I’m alive for the first time in my life.”

Jennifer gently stroked his chest and laughed aloud.

Adam looked at her quizzically. “What’s so funny?”

“Do you know what I told myself? That if I went to bed with you once, I could get you out of my system.”

He twisted around and looked down at her. “And—?”

“I was wrong. I feel as though you’re a part of me. At least”—she hesitated—“
part
of you is a part of me.”

He knew what she was thinking.

“We’ll work something out,” Adam said. “Mary Beth is leaving Monday for Europe with her aunt for a month.”

Jennifer and Adam Warner were together almost every night.

He spent the first night at her uncomfortable little apartment and in the morning he declared, “We’re taking the day off to find you a decent place to live.”

They went apartment hunting together, and late that afternoon Jennifer signed a lease in a new high-rise building off Sutton Place, called The Belmont Towers. The sign in front of the building had read
Sold Out.

“Why are we going in?” Jennifer asked.

“You’ll see.”

The apartment they looked at was a lovely five-room duplex, beautifully furnished. It was the most luxurious apartment Jennifer had ever seen. There was a master bedroom and bath upstairs, and downstairs a guest bedroom with its own bath and a living room that had a spectacular view of the East River and the city. There was a large terrace, a kitchen and a dining room.

“How do you like it?” Adam asked.

“Like it? I love it,” Jennifer exclaimed, “but there are two problems, darling. First of all, I couldn’t possibly afford it. And secondly, even if I could, it belongs to someone else.”

“It belongs to our law firm. We leased it for visiting VIP’s. I’ll have them find another place.”

“What about the rent?”

“I’ll take care of that. I—”

“No.”

“That’s crazy, darling. I can easily afford it and—”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand, Adam. I have nothing to give you except me. I want that to be a gift.”

He took her in his arms and Jennifer snuggled against him and said, “I know what—I’ll work nights.”

Saturday they went on a shopping spree. Adam bought Jennifer a beautiful silk nightgown and robe at Bonwit Teller, and Jennifer bought Adam a Turnbull & Asser shirt. They purchased a chess game at Gimbel’s and cheesecake in Junior’s near Abraham & Straus. They bought a Fortnum & Mason plum pudding at Altman’s, and books at Doubleday. They visited the Gammon Shop and Caswell-Massey, where Adam bought Jennifer enough potpourri to last for ten years. They had dinner around the corner from the apartment.

They would meet at the apartment in the evening after work and discuss the day’s events, and Jennifer would cook dinner while Adam set the table. Afterward, they read or watched television or played gin rummy or chess. Jennifer prepared Adam’s favorite dishes.

“I’m shameless,” she told him. “I won’t stop at anything.”

He held her close. “Please don’t.”

It was strange, Jennifer thought. Before they began their affair they saw each other openly. But now that they were
lovers, they dared not appear in public together, so they went to places where they were not apt to run into friends: small family restaurants downtown, a chamber music concert at the Third Street Music School Settlement. They went to see a new play at the Omni Theatre Club on 18th Street and had dinner at the Grotta Azzurra on Broome Street, and ate so much that they swore off Italian food for a month.
Only we don’t have a month,
Jennifer thought. Mary Beth was returning in fourteen days.

They went to The Half Note to hear avant-garde jazz in the Village, and peeked into the windows of the small art galleries.

Adam loved sports. He took Jennifer to watch the Knicks play, and Jennifer got so caught up in the game she cheered until she was hoarse.

On Sunday they lazed around, having breakfast in their robes, trading sections of the
Times,
listening to the church bells ring across Manhattan, each offering up its own prayer.

Jennifer looked over at Adam absorbed in the crossword puzzle and thought:
Say a prayer for me.
She knew that what she was doing was wrong. She knew that it could not last. And yet, she had never known such happiness, such euphoria. Lovers lived in a special world, where every sense was heightened, and the joy Jennifer felt now with Adam was worth any price she would have to pay later. And she knew she was going to have to pay.

Time took on a different dimension. Before, Jennifer’s life had been measured out in hours and meetings with clients. Now her time was counted by the minutes she could spend with Adam. She thought about him when she was with him, and she thought about him when she was away from him.

Jennifer had read of men having heart attacks in the arms of their mistresses, and so she put the number of Adam’s personal physician in her private telephone book by her bedside
so that if anything ever happened it could be handled discreetly and Adam would not be embarrassed.

Jennifer was filled with emotions that she had not known existed in her. She had never thought of herself as being domestic, but she wanted to do everything for Adam. She wanted to cook for him, to clean for him, to lay out his clothes in the morning. To take care of him.

Adam kept a set of clothes at the apartment, and he would spend most nights with Jennifer. She would lie next to him, watching him fall asleep, and she would try to stay awake as long as possible, terrified of losing a moment of their precious time together. Finally, when Jennifer could keep her eyes open no longer, she would snuggle in Adam’s arms and fall asleep, contented and safe. The insomnia that had plagued Jennifer for so long had vanished. Whatever night devils had tormented her had disappeared. When she curled up in Adam’s arms, she was instantly at peace.

She enjoyed walking around the apartment in Adam’s shirts, and at night she would wear his pajama top. If she was still in
ed in the morning when he left, Jennifer would roll over to his side of the bed. She loved the warm smell of him.

It seemed that all the popular love songs she heard had been written for Adam and her, and Jennifer thought,
Noel Coward was right. It’s amazing how potent cheap music can be.

In the beginning, Jennifer had thought that the overwhelming physical feeling they had for each other would diminish in time, but instead it grew stronger.

She told Adam things about herself that she had never told another human being. With Adam, there were no masks. She was Jennifer Parker, stripped naked, and still he loved her. It was a miracle. And they shared another miracle together: laughter.

Impossibly, she loved Adam more each day. She wished that what they had would never end. But she knew it would.
For the first time in her life, she became superstitious. There was a special blend of Kenya coffee that Adam liked. Jennifer bought some every few days.

But she bought only one small can at a time.

One of Jennifer’s terrors was that something would happen to Adam when he was away from her and that she would not know it until she read about it, or heard about it on a news program. She never told Adam of her fears.

Whenever Adam was going to be late he would leave notes for Jennifer around the apartment where she would come upon them unexpectedly. She would find them in the breadbox or in the refrigerator, or in her shoe; they delighted her, and she saved each one.

Their last remaining days together raced by in a blur of joyous activity. Finally, it was the night before Mary Beth was to return. Jennifer and Adam had dinner in the apartment, listened to music and made love. Jennifer lay awake all night, holding Adam in her arms. Her thoughts were of the happiness they had shared.

The pain would come later.

At breakfast, Adam said, “Whatever happens, I want you to know this—you’re the only woman I’ve ever truly loved.”

The pain came then.