She was startled. “Why, Robbie?”
He ducked his head. “I get lonely when you go back downstairs. It feels like you’re so far away. I don’t mind so much when Dad’s here, but...”
Layne glanced at the clock. “I think an early night would do me good, too.” Her voice was unsteady. She felt warm all over when he needed her.
He grinned sheepishly. “Thanks, Mom.”
She ruffled his hair, patted the dog, and went across the hall to her own room. She leaned against the door and yawned. At least tonight she didn’t have to sleep on that awful couch. The last two nights, with Kyle gone, had been the best sleep she had gotten all week. She’d need it, with the governor coming tomorrow.
She pulled open a closet door and took out a robe. It was nothing fancy, but then she wasn’t the type for fancy things. Not like Jessica, at any rate, who probably had a wardrobe full of silky negligees. And who no doubt kept Kyle in mind with every one she bought.
Layne fingered the pumpkin-colored dress that hung next to the robe. She had to admit she was anxious to wear it. In that dress, she would look every bit as good as Jessica Tate.
She studied herself in the mirror and reconsidered. “At least the dress will look good,” she told herself finally. And she would at least be presentable in it, even if she couldn’t claim Jessica’s elegance.
Her hand brushed against the other dress he had bought, the oyster white one with
chocolate brown trim. She had been mightily tempted to wear it this morning. Kyle was gone; he would never know. But she had held firm. It was a matter of pride, after all, and Layne had plenty. She would wear the sundress and the dinner dress because if she didn’t Kyle would carry out his threat. But he could not force her to wear the other dress. He had wasted his money.
She noticed that her hand was unconsciously caressing the nubby linen, and she closed the wardrobe door firmly to remove temptation. She hadn’t realized how starved she had been for pretty things until Kyle dangled them under her nose. She wanted to look nice.
No, it wouldn’t require Kyle’s threat to make her wear that lacy dinner dress. She’d love every moment.
*****
A rustle roused her from a sound sleep, and Layne sat up straight. In the shadows across the room, Kyle was unbuttoning his shirt. She could scarcely see him in the darkness, but there was exhaustion in the set of his shoulders and in the slowness of his movements.
“I thought you were coming in the morning,” she said. Her voice was unsteady with sleep.
He turned and saw her sitting there. “Well, if it isn’t little Layne in the middle of my bed, and I’m too tired to do anything about it.”
Layne bristled for a moment, and then told herself that there was no point in starting an argument. “I’ll go into the sitting room,” she said softly. It was a half-hearted offer.
Kyle rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Don’t bother. I can sleep on the couch for a couple of hours.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost four in the morning. We finally got the mess straightened out late last night, and I left right away.”
He looked so tired she just wanted to tuck him in. “You can’t sleep on that couch. You’re too tall, for one thing. And it’s uncomfortable.”
He sat down wearily and took off his shoes. “It doesn’t sound very inviting. But I think I could sleep on a cement slab right now.”
“Kyle, stop arguing and get into bed, all right?”
“Does that mean you’re not leaving it?”
“I’m too lazy to go make up the couch, and I’m too tired to argue about it. So we’ll both just have to put up with the company.” Layne punched her pillow back into shape and turned her back on him.
“You always did build yourself a nest, didn’t you?” Kyle commented. The mattress shifted as he stretched out beside her. “Just like a puppy who worries his blanket around until he’s comfortable...” His voice trailed off.
Layne released the breath she had been holding and smiled ruefully at herself. So much for the irresistible impact sharing a bed with her had on Kyle. She rearranged her pillow again and settled herself comfortably.
He sighed a little and turned over, curling himself around her body till his chest was firm against her back, one arm draped over her to hold her tight against him. It was the way they had always gone to sleep; their bodies remembered, despite the years of separation. A wave of longing swept over her. Those nights had been so beautiful...
Kyle’s breath stirred her hair, and his hand moved slowly up under her sleep shirt to cup her breast. She drew a short, sharp breath.
Then his voice came out of the darkness. “I can’t do it, Layne. I can’t stay here beside you and not make love to you. And I’m not leaving.”
“Then I will.” Her voice was soft and breathless.
“You don’t want to leave.” He raised up on an elbow, and his mouth found the sensitive hollow at the base of her throat, then moved up to nibble at the tiny lobe of her ear. He slid the sleep shirt over her head so smoothly that Layne scarcely realized what he was doing, and as he tossed it aside he whispered. “You let me do that, darling. You could have stopped me.”
Could she have? Layne asked herself. She could have fought him, she knew, but there was a curious weakness spreading throughout her body, a laziness that had nothing to do with being tired. Was this where she wanted to be, in Kyle’s arms — in Kyle’s bed?
“If you want to leave...” His hands were still; though he was holding her, she knew she could pull away. But she didn’t, and after a moment his hold tightened, and he said, with a hint of triumph, “Remember how good it was, Layne.”
It was better. Their joining together was like the reuniting of two jagged, broken halves to make a perfect whole. It was so beautiful that Layne cried a little, afterwards, her tears absorbed by the dark hair on his chest.
And then they slept, exhausted, cradled in each other’s arms.
*****
Layne woke slowly, a warm, delicious glow spreading over her. She reached for Kyle, but
found only empty space beside her in the big bed. She was puzzled; surely he should still be asleep. He had been so very exhausted -- but, she remembered with a small, secret smile, not too tired to make love to her as if there was nothing more important in the world.
As she sat up and stretched, she saw him, already dressed, sitting by the wide windows with a cup of coffee and his newspaper. Before she could say good morning, he looked up with a frown. His face was drained, she thought.
“I hope you’re not planning to stay in bed all day,” he said curtly. “The governor’s plane is due to land in half an hour.”
“Jessica is meeting him.” Layne couldn’t even be jealous of Jessica this morning. “And it takes a solid hour to drive in from the airport.” She pushed back the blanket and reached for her robe. “Would you pour me some coffee?”
He lifted the pot. “Are you certain you have time? Have you forgotten that we’re supposed to go to Jessica’s apartment for brunch?”
“I hurry much better after I’ve had one cup of coffee.” Layne tied the belt of her robe, wishing that it was a satin negligee; something like that might waken Kyle’s interest and remove the frown from his face. But even the old flannel felt like satin against her bare skin today.
She had forgotten how sensual a creature she was — or was it just Kyle who could remind her? He had always been able, with the slightest touch, to make her entire body tingle. But last night…
She shivered with the memory of it and her hand brushed against his as she reached for the cup.
Kyle jerked back from her touch as if she had burned him. He wrapped both hands around his own cup and stared down at the front page of the Wall Street Journal. “I’m sorry about what happened last night, Layne,” he said. His voice was low and firm. “I was so exhausted I must have been out of my mind. It will not happen again.”
She stared at him, and the g
lory of the night shattered like a soap bubble. Woodenly, she raised her cup and drank, barely noticing that the coffee was scalding her mouth.
How could something which had meant so much to her be meaningless to him? Indeed,
repulsive to him – for less than a week ago he had tried to convince her to sleep with him. We’re both adults, why shouldn’t we have some fun? he had said then. Now, after she had capitulated, he wanted nothing more to do with her.
She wanted to drag him out of his chair and batter her fists against that handsome face.
Instead, she shrugged her shoulders and said, her voice perfectly clear and steady, “Every woman learns to put up with it, sooner or later. It’s quite all right.”
His dark eyes were like daggers as he stared at her. Then he set his cup down so hard that coffee slopped over the front page, and he strode from the room.
Layne refilled her cup with shaking hands. Did he hate her so much that any contact was repulsive to him? Of was he ashamed of himself for making love to a woman who wasn’t
Jessica?
Jessica. So much for not being jealous this morning. Layne looked up at the pumpkin-
colored sun dress hanging on the closet door and wished that she had the nerve to just run away.
Let Jessica have Kyle, and Robbie, and Wheatlands. There was no contest anyway, nothing to fight about. Kyle had made his choice; why should Layne hang around until he decided that she had been there long enough? She was too proud to let him do that.
Tonight, she decided, she would leave. She would not give Jessica the satisfaction of being hostess at the garden party or the dinner, not as long as Layne was — in name if not in fact —
the mistress of Wheatlands. She would perform those roles to the best of her ability, and then she would go.
Coolly, she brushed her hair till it shone, took particular care with her makeup, and
inspected every inch of her appearance from head to toe before she approved the pumpkin-colored dress. No one would have any cause to suspect that her decision was made, she told herself.
It felt good to know what she was going to do, to have her life back in her own hands, she thought as she slowly descended the stairs. Why had she ever let Kyle tell her what to do, anyway? To protect Robbie, of course, but she should have known what the result would be.
History had repeated itself.
There was no point in going back over it all. Far more important was the knowledge that she was again making her own decisions. She ignored the dull pain in the pit of her stomach and went downstairs.
Robbie and his grandfather were in the dining room, both consuming ham and eggs with
gusto, deep in a discussion of possible World Series contenders. Layne poured herself another cup of coffee, looked at the array of food on the sideboard, concluded that nothing looked appealing, and sat down across the table from the two baseball fans.
Stephen looked up with a smile. “You’re quiet this morning. Aren’t you all excited about the parties?”
“I was never excited about them,” Layne reminded.
“Robbie, get your mother something to eat. She can’t entertain the governor on an empty stomach.” He pushed his plate aside. “Kyle was in a little while ago. He looked fierce. I told him he should take you away for a while after all this nonsense. You both need a rest, Layne, and some time to get reacquainted.”
Layne’s hand clenched on the edge of the table.
“What do you want, Mom? Blueberry muffin? Ham and eggs? Bacon?”
“A muffin would be fine, Robbie.” There was no point in arguing with Stephen; she’d just break up the muffin and play with it.
Robbie handed her a plate. “Are we going on a vacation? Where? I want to go to
Disneyland.”
“Robbie, you shouldn’t plan on going along,” Stephen told him.
Robbie looked horrified. “Why not?”
“Because your mom and dad need some time alone together.”
“Away from me?”
Stephen smiled. “Rob, I realize you’re the only child — but have you ever considered it may not always be that way?”
Obviously Robbie had not. Utter astonishment spread across his face.
Layne found herself smiling. Poor little Robbie, the center of his own universe, had never expected to have to share his father’s attention, even with his mother, much less another child...
Another child.
Layne’s smile froze as, for the first time, she considered the possible consequences of last night. She had been absolutely unprotected against pregnancy, and she had never felt less lucky in her life. It was now even more important that she leave; if she was pregnant, and Kyle found out ...
Well, she was leaving tonight. And if she was pregnant, she’d worry about that later.
Stephen continued, “I thought you two might like a cruise. Or perhaps just a long, leisurely car trip — up through Canada or something. Or a couple of weeks at a resort. My treat.”
“Stephen,” she said gently. “If Kyle and I need to get away, we’ll have plenty of things to choose from.” She pushed the pieces of muffin around on her plate. Then, driven by curiosity, she asked, “What did Kyle say about it?”
“Just about the same thing you did.” Stephen looked puzzled, and a little unhappy. “I don’t understand why that boy won’t leave Robbie with me and take you off somewhere and remind you of why he married you in the first place.”
Because all the reminder I need is sitting across from me at this table consuming muffins, Layne thought. Kyle needed a son, and he has Robbie. No wonder he had regrets this morning about making love to me last night. He probably realized this morning that he might have a tough time getting rid of me. All he could accomplish would be to entangle himself further, and that he doesn’t want.
Well, she didn’t want it either, she reminded herself. The sooner she got away from
Wheatlands, the better.
The day was a blur in her memory. Episodes stood out, but the long day itself would be forever foggy.
She remembered Governor Howard’s booming greeting, in his enthusiastic-politician
voice, and Jessica’s eyelashes fluttering coyly up at him as she hung on his arm. But they fluttered impartially at Kyle, too, and Layne could have cheerfully plucked each separate eyelash out.
And she would never forget the trill in Jessica’s laugh as she monopolized the conversation at brunch at her apartment. It didn’t help that Kyle knew his way around Jessica’s apartment so well, or that he automatically took over the role of host. Obviously, Layne thought as she watched him select a bottle of wine from the rack, he had done this many times before.
And what difference does it make? she asked herself. It was no new discovery for her. But it hurt to have it made so obvious.
Cam Howard tried to pay equal attention to both women, but Jessica interrupted every time he asked Layne a question. Kyle didn’t seem to know his wife was even present. Layne ate her omelet, but it tasted like cardboard.
Finally, Jessica tossed her napkin down and put a confiding hand on the governor’s arm.
“Oh, Cam, you’re such a darling. I hate to break up the party, Kyle, dear, but isn’t it time to go back to Wheatlands? After all, it would be awful if our guests arrived before we did.”
Kyle smiled and agreed, and Layne could have thrown something at him. For an intelligent man, Layne thought, he was certainly dense when it came to Jessica Tate. Our guests indeed!
Couldn’t he see what she was doing? Or could he see only that Jessica was being extremely friendly with Cam Howard? That would explain why he was ignoring Layne; he was
preoccupied by the frustration he felt over Jessica.
You just have to get through today, Layne, she told herself. Tomorrow you’ll be free.
Tomorrow Jessica won’t matter.
She held tight to that conviction all through the garden party. Hundreds of Cam Howard’s constituents showed up
to drink tea and discuss their special interests, and it required every ounce of Layne’s self-control to stay away from the triangle at the opposite end of the patio. The governor sat on the patio wall; Jessica hovered over him; Kyle was off to the side, watching Jessica whenever his attention wasn’t being claimed by someone else. And across the lawn, tending to her duties as hostess, Layne found herself looking up time after time to see them there.
Stephen saw them too, and though he said nothing, Layne knew that he was watching her with concern in his eyes.
She slipped away from the dinner party to say goodnight to Robbie. She found him curled up on the window seat, staring out over the festively lighted lawn where the caterer’s men were still cleaning up the mess. He scarcely looked up as she came in, then turned his attention back to the limousines parked near the house.
Layne sat down beside him, careful of the delicate lace on her dinner dress. It was still a pretty dress, she thought, but it didn’t hold the magic she had hoped it would. It was just a dress, and the party was just a party — to be survived, not enjoyed.
“I came up to say good night, Robbie. Would you like a quick story?”
He shook his head without looking up. “Not tonight.” He went over to his bunk and slid under the sheet without protest.
She followed to straighten the spread on his bed. It will be the last time I will tuck him in, she thought, and a cold shiver darted through her. How can I give up this child? she asked herself. “Sleep well, darling.”
Robbie didn’t answer. Layne put a hand on his shoulder, and was stunned at the tightness of his muscles. She gently kneaded the back of his neck, and asked, “What’s up, Rob? What’s bothering you?”
It seemed for a minute as if he hadn’t heard. Then he said, without expression and without looking at her, “Are you and Dad going to get a divorce?”
“What makes you ask that, honey?”
He looked at her then, blue eyes bright with tears. “You are, aren’t you? That’s what you always say when you don’t want to answer a question.” He dashed a hand across his eyes. “Dad told me today that you want to leave Wheatlands because you don’t love him anymore.”
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