by Joan Hohl
But Val was being cautious, rational. Her life had changed dramatically over the previous three weeks, in numerous ways. Any one of those changes could have tipped the balance of her inner clock. Val hadn’t said a word to Jonas. She felt it would be cruel to build his hopes, only to dash them again if she was wrong. She decided to wait and pray.
* * *
It was Friday again—the end of Val’s third week on the job. She was tired, but that wasn’t unusual. Lately Val was always tired. She didn’t mind. She knew excessive weariness was one of the first symptoms of pregnancy. She wanted to sleep a lot, which was the reason she had switched from working mornings to coming into the office after lunch.
The weekend beckoned with the alluring promise of rest. Pushing aside the contract she’d been studying, Val stretched her cramped back muscles and glanced at her watch. It was six-twenty. Collecting her purse and the attaché case Jonas had given her at breakfast on the morning of her first day of work, Val slid her chair away from her desk.
Her step firm, her small jaw set with purpose, Val walked through the empty outer office and into the private domain of the boss. Jonas was bent over the design table near the large window, poring over computer spread sheets.
“Okay, warden, how much?”
Jonas looked up, a distracted frown tugging together his ash-blond brows. “Warden? How much? Val, what in the world are you talking about?”
Val kept a straight, stern face. “The bond,” she explained, tapping her foot impatiently. “How much will it cost me to spring my husband from this electronic prison?”
Jonas’s brow cleared. Obviously fighting a smile, he worked his chiseled features into stern lines that were much more intimidating than hers. “You do realize, madam, that I can only issue a weekend pass for your husband?” he intoned severely. “You will have to return him to this cell by eight o’clock on Monday morning.”
Val fought a bubble of delighted laughter but lost the battle. A Jonas who was not only willing to be interrupted from his work, but ready to contribute to as well as participate in her silly games, was too new an experience for her. Laughing, she dropped her purse and case and ran across the room into his open arms.
“What time is it?” Jonas asked, rubbing his cheek against her silky hair.
Raising her left arm, Val glanced at her wristwatch. “Six thirty-two exactly.”
“That’s right!” Jonas said in exaggerated exclamation. “And for giving the correct answer, you, Mrs. Valerie Thorne, of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, have won the grand prize!”
“Which is?” Val laughed as she posed the question.
“A kiss from the boss.” Dipping his head, Jonas covered her open mouth with his.
As prizes went, Val thought fuzzily, his kiss was pretty grand. The sensuous play of his tongue, however, was evocative of a different, grander prize.
“Mmm,” Val murmured when he raised his head a fraction, ending the kiss but maintaining contact by nibbling on her lower lip. “That tasted like more.”
Jonas lifted his head to look at her. “More leads to more,” he said in teasing warning.
“That’s okay.” Val smiled and pressed herself to his tautening body. “It’s after business hours.”
“Watch it, sweetheart,” he growled. “Or you might suddenly find yourself on your back on that couch over there. It’s happened before…. If you remember?”
Remember! How could she forget? Val thought, shivering with the memory. It had happened in the early evening of the day she’d returned from Australia. Because the secretary who had replaced Val had quit without notice, a competent replacement hadn’t been found. Since Val had not returned by the promised date, Jonas had been in a foul mood.
Acting on Janet’s advice, Valerie had offered her assistance. She and Jonas had worked throughout the day in an atmosphere of tense truce. Somewhere around seven Val had had enough. She was tired and hungry. Marching into his office, she had demanded to know if he was planning to buy her dinner. Jonas had replied that he would, if that was what she wanted. Suddenly cautiously excited, Val had responded by asking him if he was inferring that he would be willing to give her anything she wanted. Jonas had softly countered by saying he would…if she would give him the single thing he wanted. When Val asked him what it was, Jonas had indicated the long white couch that still stood against the wall in his office.
“I want you, now, on that couch.”
His words seemed to echo in Valerie’s mind as if Jonas had just said them to her. His low laughter interrupted her reverie, and Val realized with a jolt that he had repeated aloud the demand he’d made three years before.
The effect of Val’s scandalized expression was ruined by the twitch of amusement at the corners of her mouth. “Jonas, really,” she scolded. “Aren’t you ashamed?”
“No more than I was the other time.” Jonas grinned. “But as a matter of fact, I’m even hotter and more ready to…”
“Jonas!” Val laughed as she spoke his name and slipped away from him. She held up a hand when he started after her. “Have you forgotten that we are due at your daughter’s at eight?”
His only response was to scowl and utter a muttered curse.
“Tsk, tsk.” Val clicked her tongue. “If I recall correctly, you were the one who agreed to join Mary Beth and Jean-Paul this evening for a friendly game of penny ante poker.”
Jonas’s scowl gave way to a wicked smile. “I’d much sooner stay home and play strip poker with you.”
“So would I,” Val admitted, a responsive shiver going through her. He took a step toward her, she took a step back. “But we can’t. Mary Beth, Jean-Paul and Marge are expecting us.”
Jonas exhaled a deep, exaggerated sigh and slanted a mournful glance at the white couch. Laughing at him, Val took his hand to lead him from the office.
“Come on, Jonas, I’ll let you buy me dinner.”
Jonas stopped in his tracks. His eyes glittered with devilry as he echoed the words she’d said to him that same evening over three years ago. “It’ll cost you.”
Val proved how good her own memory was by repeating the response he’d given to her. “Name your price.”
Jonas managed to keep a straight face. “I want your promise that no matter how late it is when we get home tonight, you and I will have a little game of strip poker.” He destroyed the effect of his somber look by wiggling his eyebrows at her.
Laughing, Val quoted his final words of long ago, “You’ve got it.”
* * *
Val and Jonas didn’t bother going home. They stopped for dinner at an out-of-the-way restaurant located less than a mile from their former home. The establishment had been in existence for over a hundred years. The decor was early American, warm and homey. Val couldn’t help but recall that, close though they had lived to the place, the only time they had ever been there had been for a birthday dinner for Marge.
They dined on game pie prepared from an original recipe, a full-bodied burgundy and apple cobbler. And while they fed the hunger of their bodies, they replenished the deeper need of the soul with soft, intimate conversation.
Finally replete, they reluctantly left the restaurant, Val’s hand securely clasped inside Jonas’s, and went on to spend a laughter-filled evening with Mary Beth, Jean-Paul and Marge.
It was late before the penny ante game broke up. Pleased with herself for having won two dollars and fourteen cents, Val cheerfully pitched in with the cleaning up. The look of smoldering promise in the eyes Jonas swept over her was all the incentive Val needed to work swiftly.
Marge went into the kitchen to stack the glasses and snack food bowls in the dishwasher, while Val and Mary Beth replaced the lacy cloth and flower centerpiece on the dining-room table, at which the games had been played.
The phone rang, and Mary Beth and Jean-Paul exchanged frowning expressions.
“Now, who in the world…?” Mary Beth began, turning away to answer the call on the phone in the living room, but
at that moment it stopped ringing.
“I suppose Marge answered it,” Jean-Paul observed with a shrug. “We’ll soon know….”
Suddenly they heard a scream from the kitchen.
“Oh, God! Jonas!” Marge called in a cry of agony. “Pick up the extension! Lynn was injured in an automobile accident! She’s in critical condition in a hospital in Paris!”
Chapter 8
Jonas was going to Paris. They were all going to Paris—Marge, Mary Beth and Jean-Paul. Only Val was staying at home.
“This shouldn’t take very long.” Jonas tossed a couple of shirts onto the bed near the open suitcase. “I figure two, three days at the most.”
It was late, or early, depending on how one viewed it. At 4:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning, with weariness dragging down her spirit, Val didn’t view it at all…. She endured it.
“Okay.” The exhaustion in her voice was at odds with the competence of her movements as she neatly folded each shirt before placing it in the case.
“You’re not angry?” Jonas came to a stop beside her, three neckties dangling from his fingers. Val could actually feel the tension in him.
“Angry?” Val looked up to offer him a faint smile. “No, Jonas, I’m not angry.”
“But you do understand why I feel I must go?”
Val caught her lower lip between her teeth. She thought she understood. She was trying to understand. But she was so tired. A soft sigh escaped her guard. “I think so.” She blinked against the hot sting of tears in her eyes. Tears of weariness, she told herself. That was all they were. “I want to understand, Jonas. It’s just that—” The tears crested the barrier of her eyelids. “Why you?” she cried. “Why is it always you?” She lifted her hands, then let them fall. “I didn’t miss the fact that Marge called out for you… not Mary Beth or Jean-Paul, but you. Whenever there’s a crisis or even a minor problem, everyone turns to you to solve whatever it is.”
“I have to go, Val.”
“But why in this instance? Lynn is not your responsibility, Jonas,” she argued. “Why must you go? Can’t Jean-Paul handle whatever must be handled, if…?” Val couldn’t force herself to say if Lynn dies.
Jonas had no problem saying it. “You mean if Lynn doesn’t make it?”
Val nodded in response.
Jonas’s nod reflected hers. “In that event, Jean-Paul could handle it. But that possibility isn’t the only consideration. Whether Lynn lives or dies, there will be arrangements to make and bills to pay.” He grimaced. “More than likely, very large bills to pay.”
“But Jean-Paul could—”
“Val,” Jonas interrupted her. “I must go myself. My only child is pregnant. Her mother may be dying. Mary Beth is going to need the support of both her husband and me. Besides—” his tone took on an edge of determination “—this is a family matter. My family. And you’re wrong. It is my responsibility, not Jean-Paul’s. I’ll take care of it myself.”
Of course. There it was, the secret vulnerability that Jonas took great pains to conceal. Val had had a hint of the presence of that sensitive area while they were in San Francisco, when he had told her that he continued to tolerate Lynn because she was Mary Beth’s mother. Val now understood that his feelings ran much deeper than that.
Jonas was a bastard. He had never known either one of his parents, since his mother had died at his birth and his father’s identity was a mystery. As a ward of the court, Jonas had been placed in a succession of foster homes, most of them bad. Until he met and married Lynn, and had been accepted wholeheartedly by her parents, Marge and Stosh Kowalski, Jonas had never had a family. Subsequently, even though his marriage began to disintegrate almost at once, the birth of his child had emphasized Jonas’s need to maintain his family.
Staring at him with compassion, Val now acknowledged that she should have recognized or at least suspected the depth of that need in Jonas before they were married, when he’d told her that his former mother-in-law had lived with him since Mary Beth was an infant.
Jonas would take care of his own, his family, Val realized. With an unconscious gesture she slid one hand over her abdomen. Being the man he was, Jonas would naturally extend that care to all of them, even Lynn, a family member whom he merely tolerated.
The absentminded, protective movement of her splayed hand did not go unnoticed.
“Val, are you all right?” Jonas asked with quick concern, bringing up his hands to grasp her shoulders.
“Yes, I’m fine, just a little tired,” she replied, dredging up a smile for him. “It’s been a long day.”
Jonas looked unconvinced. “You’re pale,” he said, frowning as he examined her colorless cheeks. “And now that I think about it, you’ve been tired a lot lately.” His eyes narrowed. “And you look unnaturally fragile. I think you should call your doctor and make an appointment to have a complete checkup.”
“Jonas, I am—” Val caught herself in time. She had planned to call their friend, her obstetrician Milton Abramowitz, that coming Monday. Catching her breath, she went on, “I am fine.”
“You’d better get plenty of rest while I’m gone,” he ordered, drawing her into his embrace with a show of tenderness that brought fresh tears to her eyes. “Because if you’re still pale and tired when I get home, I’ll personally escort you to the doctor.” He buried his face in her hair and murmured, “Is that understood?”
Val sniffed and managed a strangled-sounding laugh. “Yes, sir, Mr. Thorne, sir.”
“I want you to crawl into bed as soon as I leave,” he said. “And stay there for the weekend, if you feel like it.”
“Jonas!” Val exclaimed, pulling back her head to stare at him. “I’m going with you to the airfield!”
Jonas shook his head. “Val, it’s after four now. You’re already overtired. If you go with me, it’ll be at least six by the time you get home. I don’t think…”
Val lifted her small chin in a defiant manner that was all too familiar to him. “I’m going with you, Jonas.”
They drove through the hushed quiet of predawn, along streets empty except for an occasional car. There was more traffic on the highway, primarily tractor-trailers and delivery trucks. They didn’t speak much; there was little left to say. Val began to miss Jonas even before they arrived at the small airstrip where Jonas rented hangar space for the Lear.
The others—Marge, Mary Beth and Jean-Paul—were already there, waiting beside Jean-Paul’s elegant new Chrysler. Val heard the whine of the Lear’s jets the moment Jonas brought the Lincoln to a stop alongside his son-in-law’s car.
Stepping out of the vehicle, Val went directly to Mary Beth. The young woman looked as tired as Val felt.
“I sincerely hope Lynn will be all right,” Val said, drawing the trembling girl into her arms. “And Mary Beth, try to get some sleep during the flight.” Stepping back, Val smiled through her own tears. “Don’t forget, you must take care of your father’s—” she hesitated, then went on more strongly “—our grandchild.”
“I’ll be careful,” Mary Beth promised, sniffing. “Thank you, Val.”
“Come along, chérie,” Jean-Paul murmured, slipping his arm around his wife’s waist. “It’s time to board.” He turned to gaze solemnly at Val. “You take care of yourself, Valerie.”
“I will.” Val hugged Jean-Paul and Marge, then turned to Jonas. “And you take care of yourself.”
“Come here,” Jonas said, hauling her into his arms. He kissed her hard, but fast, then released her and quickly stepped back, as if afraid he’d never let her go if he didn’t leave at once. “Drive carefully on your way home,” he ordered, as he bent to pick up his valise. “Rest. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He made a face and shook his head. “Later today.” He stared at her longingly for an instant, then abruptly swung away. “Be good,” he called back softly as he strode toward the plane.
Val felt an ominous sensation of fear as she watched him walk away from her. It was strange, for she had never before been anxio
us about Jonas flying. But now oppressive fear was clutching at her throat.
The others had boarded, and Jonas was nearing the plane, when suddenly Val broke into a run. “Jonas!” she cried, running to him and launching herself against his reassuring strength.
His free arm caught her to him and she clung, hugging him fiercely. “What it is? What’s wrong, darling?” he demanded, searching her tear-streaked face.
“Nothing.” Val shook her head, not understanding herself. “Only please remember that I love you.”
“I’ll remember.” Jonas’s arm tightened compulsively, crushing her softness to him. His mouth covered hers in a deep kiss. “If you’ll remember that I only adore you,” he murmured, smiling as he raised his head.
“I’ll remember,” she promised, returning his smile, if a little tremulously.
And then Jonas was gone.
Val stood alone on the airstrip, straining her eyes until the jet’s wing lights flickered and disappeared into the muted glow of dawn.
* * *
She slept badly. Although she had dropped onto the bed like a stone when she got back to the house, Val only dozed in fits and starts, waking suddenly each time with the shakes. Around noon she gave up trying to sleep and dragged herself from the bed. A shower didn’t go very far toward reviving her body or her spirits.
Val spent the day prowling around the house, back and forth like some wild creature, caged and edgy. She occupied herself by glancing at the clock, then at whatever phone was closest, then at the clock again.
She was at a loss to account for or pinpoint the reason for her uneasiness. Jonas traveled often for business purposes, and was often gone for as long as a week. But although she had always missed him, she had never reacted to his absence in this panicky way.
Telling herself that she was being ridiculous didn’t help. Assuring herself that she’d have heard something by then, if there had been any difficulty during the flight, didn’t help, either. The unsettling sensation persisted, filling her mind with terrifying thoughts of the direst catastrophes imaginable.