by Ann Cristy
"Why didn't the doctor recommend cosmetic surgery?"
"My father didn't take me to the doctor until the bites were infected."
"Damn him! You might have contracted tetanus from being left untreated." Luc cuddled her closer.
"My mother poured iodine on the bites." Misty shivered as she remembered how much it had hurt. She'd screamed so loudly.
"Good God," Luc whispered, his hand trembling as he stroked her hair.
They lay there in silence, Luc's slow hand soothing her. Then, abruptly, he stiffened. "I forgot. I got a call from Aileen. It seems we have visitors. Your three sisters have come to stay with you."
"My sisters?" Misty shot up to a sitting position in bed and whirled to face him as he rolled onto his back, his hands clasped behind his head. "Are you sure? My sisters?" He nodded.
Misty bit her lip. "I haven't seen them in years. Gosh, they must be—"
"Eighteen, nineteen, and twenty-one," Luc supplied. He reached up and twisted a finger in her thick hair. "Don't worry. I called my sister Alice, and she's going right over to your apartment. She has three grown children, two boys and a girl, all of whom are living on their own in various parts of the country. She and her husband John love their family and miss them. When I told her she might get the chance to have young boarders, she was ecstatic."
"They came to me," Misty said in wonder. "They need me. I have to go to them." She jumped out of bed, jerking the pajama top down over her backside when she heard Luc suck in his breath.
"Okay, darling. If you want them to live with us, that's fine with me. We have plenty of room. But this morning we'll explain that it's our wedding day and arrange to have them stay with Alice and John."
"Surely you don't mean to go through with this charade," Misty protested.
His face grew taut. "We are getting married."
"Today?" Misty asked weakly.
Luc rose from the bed. The towel had slipped, and she averted her gaze. "As much as I would like to dally with you in this bed, I think we'd better get dressed. You'll find clean underwear in the left cupboard in the dressing room. I indulged myself one day in Saks. I enjoy shopping for you. See if you like my choices. I'll use the other bathroom on this floor." He padded out of the bedroom, leaving Misty still sputtering.
Without thinking, she went automatically into the dressing room and pulled open the door he had indicated. "Buy me underthings," she fumed, fingering the silky, peach-colored briefs and bra, as she slipped into them. She pulled on her velvet jeans and now wrinkled blouse and ran a comb through her long curly red hair, then ran out of the bedroom and down the curving staircase to the foyer, looking for Luc.
"Out here, darling," he called to her from under the stairs. "Come and sit down."
'"We have to hurry," she whispered, smiling politely at a heavy-set woman whose plump face was wreathed in smiles. She glanced warily at the Doberman, who cocked his head at her.
At once, Luc was at her side, leading her past the dog to a chair in the dining room, where he seated her. "I know, love. I just want you to have some freshly squeezed orange juice and—here you are. A vitamin pill and one toasted English muffin. Mrs. Wheaton makes them herself."
"How do you do, Mrs. Wheaton?" Misty could feel her smile trembling as the dog rose and ambled over to her side.
"How do you do, miss?" Mrs. Wheaton greeted her. "May I offer you my best wishes?"
"Ah, thank you." Misty turned to glare at Luc as he picked up her vitamin pill and gestured for her to open her mouth. Snatching it out of his hand, she popped it into her mouth and swallowed. His kiss of approval emboldened her to risk patting Bruno's sleek brown head.
After they had finished eating breakfast, Misty urged Luc down the stairs to the garage. In the car he glanced at her pinched face and, loosening her clenched fingers, clasped his right hand around her left one. "Stop worrying," he scolded. "Everything will be fine. You're not to worry ever again."
"But I want my sisters to be all right."
"I will personally see to it that everything is just the way you want it, darling," he promised. "But nothing is going to interfere with our marriage at four o'clock today."
Misty didn't respond. Images of impending doom sprung up in her mind. By the time Luc parked the car in front of her brownstone, she was trembling, and her teeth were chattering.
Luc helped her out of the car, his arm tight around her, her carrier slung over his other shoulder. "Take it easy, love," he soothed.
As they walked up the stoop, the front door was flung open, and Mary stood bright-eyed on the threshold. "They're in our house, and I'm going to take Betsy skating, and Marcy wants to see the New York Public Library, and Celia is pretty," she exclaimed all in one breath, beaming at Luc and Misty. "Oh, and another lady is here, and she's nice, too." Mary chattered nonstop all the way down the hall to the door of her apartment.
As Misty walked in, her eyes alighted immediately on her sisters. She opened her arms, and the three young women ran into them.
Celia, Betsy, and Marcy cried. Misty felt raw pain, but her eyes remained dry.
"We made up our minds to come a long time ago, Misty," said chestnut-haired Celia, wiping her tears away. "But we couldn't leave Betsy behind, so we waited until she was eighteen. It wasn't as bad for us, but Father was getting worse, especially with Marcy when she said she wanted to go to college."
"I'm so glad you came to me," Misty said, her voice husky. "I've missed you." All at once she felt guilty. Why had she always assumed that her sisters would be spared the parental coldness and censure she had suffered once she began to mature? She had always been so certain that some flaw in herself had caused the gap between her and her parents. Despite the progress she'd made in therapy, she had never quite shaken that feeling.
"I was afraid you might not want us," Betsy said, her voice trembling.
"Of course we want you," Luc said, stepping forward and introducing himself. "You will always have a home with Mystique and me."
Misty heard Aileen gasp, but her attention was diverted as an unfamiliar woman came forward, her hand outstretched. "Hello, Mystique, I'm Luc's sister Alice Hemings. Luc has told me all about you. I'm so pleased to hear you're getting married today." Aileen, Mark, and Mary all gasped at this piece of information. "I would so love to have your sisters come and stay with me until you and Luc return from your honeymoon."
After that, pandemonium broke loose. The babble of voices filled the room as everybody but Misty spoke at once, firing questions, shouting congratulations, expressing surprise. Misty felt cut loose, disoriented, unable to respond.
Finally Luc succeeded in getting across the message that he and Misty wouldn't be going on a honeymoon right away and that they would be back in a few days.
"Well, not too soon, I hope," said Alice. "I want the girls to have some fun—go riding, shopping, sight-seeing." She ticked off the activities on her fingers.
Mark stared open-mouthed as Alice explained to him that her family owned horses and that he was welcome to come out to Heath Farms at any time to ride. Both he and Mary gazed at Alice with saucer-eyed delight.
After a while Misty and her sisters excused themselves and went upstairs to Misty's apartment for some private conversation. "We couldn't stay any longer," Celia said. "We thought about it a long time. He was so smothering, so critical."
"He wasn't always like that," Misty interjected softly, knowing that it was true, also fully aware that she couldn't have made such a statement a few months ago. "When I was small, they were both good to me."
"But they changed as we grew older," Marcy mused. "One by one we all felt the change."
Her sisters nodded.
"Why did they even have children?" Betsy asked, her voice anguished.
"I don't know, Bets, but I do know you'll be happy here," Misty promised, her heart aching for her sisters. Why had she never suspected that the girls were going through the same painful experience she had endured?
; "Don't look like that, Misty," Marcy pleaded. "We didn't have it as bad as you did. Honest." Marcy's glasses glinted in the light coming through the wall of windows. "He was never after us like he was after you. But he was getting worse, and Mom never seemed to care about anything as long as she could do as she liked."
"They hated watching us become independent," Betsy said with sudden insight.
Awhile later Luc knocked and entered the room. "Darling, I hate to rush you, but it's time for you to get dressed. Alice wants to take your sisters to Saks to do a little shopping before driving to Long Island." He chuckled as Misty's sisters whooped with joy.
Imagine us shopping in Saks," Betsy said dreamily after Luc had left. "By the way, Misty, I think Luc is terrific. I hope I find a husband just like him."
"Me, too." Marcy pushed her glasses back up her nose and grinned at Misty. "It's so good to be here."
"I should stay with you," Misty said, feeling as though she were caught in a whirlwind. Both pain and joy assailed her at the thought of becoming Luc's wife. She realized she wanted to marry him! The mere thought was like sliding off the top of a mountain into wonderland! "No, don't stay with us," the girls chorused. "Marry Luc. It will make us happy to see you happy," Marcy added. "I think you should have a nice quiet ceremony with just the two of you—even though I would like to be there."
"We can have a party when you come back," Celia suggested.
"You don't mind staying with Luc's sister?" Misty asked, aware that she had accepted the idea of marrying Luc that day. Still, she couldn't seem to get off the emotional roller coaster she'd been riding since she'd met him at Christmastime.
"Alice is nice," Marcy went on. "As soon as she arrived, she told us she would be delighted to have us come and stay with her." Marcy smiled. "Besides, you'll be back soon."
Celia and Betsy added their agreement. . Later, her sisters returned downstairs while Misty went through her closet, trying to decide what to wear. She wanted to talk herself out of marrying Luc, but she couldn't summon the will to do so. Gradually she was fully accepting that she would be his wife. "Damn the consequences," she muttered. "I'll handle them as they come." She was staring into her closet when someone knocked on the door. "Come in," she called. She turned in surprise as Morey and Zena walked in.
"Get away from those mundane clothes and look at what you're going to wear," Morey told her.
"Whoever would have thought you'd get married before me," Zena said. "And he's so nice."
“How do you know?" Misty had one eye on her friend and one eye on the cream-colored silk suit Morey was pulling from a garment bag.
"He called and offered to let us use your apartment," Zena explained, biting her lip. "I realize now we should have asked you first."
"Oh, no," Misty said, hugging first Zena, then Morey. "You'd make me so happy by moving in here. Can you imagine how good it would be for Aileen, David, and the children? Oh, please, please, live here."
"We will. Now never mind that business," Morey said, separating the two women and urging Misty out of her clothes so she could try on the suit. "Let's hope Superman doesn't come through the door when you're standing in your undies. He's liable to blacken my eyes."
"Don't be silly," Misty scoffed.
"That's all right, Morey. I'm here to protect you," Zena assured him.
"I may blacken his eyes anyway," Luc said from the doorway. Misty whirled around. Luc's eyes pinned her to the spot, heating her flesh with their burning intensity.
Zena jumped up and hurried over to Luc, reaching up to cover his eyes. "You can't see her in her wedding outfit. It would be bad luck." She ushered him out the door.
It didn't take Morey long to complete the small adjustments needed. Misty pulled out of her closet a pair of cream satin pumps that went perfectly with the suit.
When she finally descended the stairs on Morey's arm, she wore an ivory comb in her hair and carried a tussie-mussie, an old-fashioned bouquet of cream-colored tea roses that Luc had bought her.
He was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As she reached the final step, he came forward to take her hand and stood silent while her friends and sisters all talked at once.
"I don't think even Saks could upstage this moment," Alice said as she kissed Misty's cheek. "How beautiful you are. Thanks for letting me take care of your sisters. My house is just crying for them." She lowered her voice. "Be happy. I think you're just what the doctor ordered. Luc's cynicism had begun to run too deep. Love will change that."
Misty looked blankly at Alice. "I don't understand."
"Never mind. You'll find out." Luc gave his sister an irritated glance, but Alice just grinned.
"Come on, darling," he told Misty. "We have to hurry. Good-bye everyone." He placed a fox fur jacket around her shoulders, and she felt his strong arm propel her out of the house.
"But I don't wear furs," she protested. "I don't believe in killing animals." Despite her words, she couldn't help noticing how warm the coat was as she stepped into the cold wind whistling down the street.
"I should have known." Luc chuckled and kissed her cheek as he held open the car door before walking around to climb under the wheel. He tooted the horn and they both waved to the people huddled on the stoop as he pulled the car into traffic. "I won't make that mistake again, love," he promised. "But indulge me this time, won't you? I don't want you to catch cold."
"Thank you," Misty said. "It really is lovely. I don't want to sound ungrateful."
"You don't. You sound like a woman who doesn't like to see animals killed for their skins. You're sweet."
Misty drew in a deep breath. "I can't believe we're really going to get married. It's crazy."
"Maybe, but we're going to do it."
"Luc, will you admit that we don't have much in common, that all things that should be in a good marriage— knowing one another well, love—"
"Forget it, Misty. We're getting married at four o'clock today, and our marriage will be a good one." Misty let her head fall back against the cushioned seat. Neither one of them spoke for several long moments. Finally Luc said, "Don't worry about your sisters. Alice is the kindest person I know, and her husband is an old softie. I intend to make sure your sisters have happy lives from now on."
"Luc, thank you."
"We'll be happy. Mystique." He reached over and clasped her hand warmly. She looked with amazement at their entwined fingers.
"Will we be coming back today?" she asked.
"No. I've made reservations in an old country inn where I used to stay when I went skiing upstate."
"Oh."
"I think you'll like it."
"I don't ski," she mumbled, feeling like Alice falling into a deep, deep rabbit hole into Wonderland.
"I'll teach you, darling. Not that I plan on doing much skiing during the short time we'll be there." He chuckled, then shot her an annoyed glance. "Don't scrunch up to the window like that, Mystique. Nothing bad is going to happen to you."
"You don't know me."
"I've already told you I know everything I need to know about—"
"But you don't know what I'm like deep inside. And I still resent your having investigated me."
"I know. I'm going to try to change. It won't happen right away or all at once, but I want to be the kind of husband you can be proud of." Luc paused before adding, "I overheard what Alice said to you about my cynicism." He sighed and reached out to squeeze her thigh. "I am... I was a cynic about almost everything, but especially about women. But in the short time we've known each other, my feelings have changed. I'm not the same man I used to be. I want to be a man you can be proud of," he repeated.
"Please, Luc, don't say that. I don't want you to change for me... or do anything for me." Misty fought to keep the stridency from her voice.
"Calm down, love. Everything will be fine."
Misty was about to argue with him, but it was so much easier to lie back and watch the countryside roll past the window. Luc snapped a ta
pe into the player, and soft piano music filled the car. Misty recognized the skill of the musician who was playing and listened carefully, taking note of his careful phrasing and meticulous technique. As she absorbed the music, her gaze ran desultorily over the landscape through which they were traveling. The thrumming of the music, the rich purr of the engine, and the pulsing rhythm of the piano were like narcotics to Misty. Gradually she fell asleep.
She began to dream. Her father appeared, making her shift restlessly, though she didn't waken. Lord, she didn't want to remember. But she couldn't help it. Suddenly she was sixteen again.
"No, Father, I didn't do anything wrong, I didn't," Misty pleaded, her stomach churning with anguish.
"Slut! You're pregnant with Howie Breston's kid. Even his parents know about it!" Misty's father shook his fist in her face. "I never laid a hand on you, but I'm sorry now. Whore!" He turned to his wife, who was standing next to him, wringing her hands. "See! See what your daughter is, Marilyn? A whore."
"Alvan, don't use that coarse word in front of me."
"But, my dear, you can see what she is." He turned back to Misty. "Look at her. Her lips are blue, and she's shaking. She hates to hear the truth about herself. She's a stupid slut."
"I'm not, I'm not," Misty whispered, nausea rising inside her. "Howie wouldn't say that about me. It's not true. I never let him... Stop saying those things and listen to me. No one ever touched me."
"Don't you raise your voice to your father," Marilyn Carver said coldly.
"Let me tell you what happened," Misty pleaded, her voice rising in desperation.
"I don't want you talking in front of your mother about what you did with that boy!" her father roared.
"Listen to me. I didn't do anything." Misty's voice quavered.
"Slut, slut," her father bellowed. "I'm not, I'm not..."
In her dream, her father's face grew and grew and became distorted into a grotesque mask. Then she saw herself standing between Aunt Lizabeth and Uncle Charles, her parents facing them, her gaze going from one couple to the other.