Island Hearts (Jenny's Turn and Stray Lady)

by Vanessa Grant

  Jake shook his head. “No, but we’ll have to get one soon. Once Mandy starts walking it won’t be possible to have her with us at the studio. But, for the moment, she’s nice to have around.”

  Jenny wiped food from the baby’s cheeks. “We have a friend, Monica, who runs a day care center. Mandy goes there when we can’t have her with us.”

  Robyn took a sip from her glass of orange juice. Lyle noticed that she hadn’t eaten any of her own breakfast. He recognized the nervous tension in her eyes from past visits to the hospital.

  He said, “I think Robyn would like to run a day care center. She likes babies.” The distraction worked. Robyn’s eyes lit up and she started asking quick questions about the unknown Monica and her fascinating job.

  “I’ll take you to see her,” offered Jenny, “after you get out of hospital.”

  Two cups of coffee helped make him feel more alert, but he knew his lack of sleep would catch up with him soon.

  George came in, sparkling fresh in a flowered summer skirt and a thin embroidered blouse. She looked wonderful, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  Jenny said, “We’re just going off to work. Lyle, you and Robyn make yourselves at home.”

  That was when he announced, “Thanks, Jenny, but we’ll be leaving in a bit. Robyn’s checking into the hospital this afternoon, and I’ll move to the hotel.”

  George wouldn’t meet his eyes. He should have talked to her first, not made the announcement cold without her knowing. Robyn said tensely, “George, will you visit me?”

  Her voice was falsely bright. “Sure, Robyn. Just tell me what time and I’ll be there.”

  George watched Lyle and Robyn drive away in a yellow cab. Some independent woman she was! Emancipated, hell! She hadn’t even gotten the nerve to tell him she loved him. She was terribly afraid that he’d changed his mind, that his love song had been a thing of the moment.

  Why hadn’t he come to her last night? Well, for that matter, why hadn’t she gone to him? Simple. She’d been afraid.

  Maybe he was afraid, too.

  She certainly hadn’t given him any reason to feel sure of her. She hadn’t told him that she loved him. She hadn’t told him that he’d made her feel whole for the first time in her life. She hadn’t said that she even wanted to cook his breakfasts – well, some of the time, anyway – and she wanted to make a child with him, to be a mother to Robyn and to their children. They could be grandparents together.

  In the song, he’d said he loved her.

  This was crazy! There was nothing she could do right now. She tried to push aside her thoughts and set to work cleaning Jenny’s house.

  She wished she could have gone with Lyle and Robyn. Surely it would have helped Lyle to have someone else there to distract Robyn from her nervousness about the surgery. Why hadn’t he asked her to come?

  She rubbed hard at a spot on the coffee table.

  Funny, she’d always thought she was a direct and forthright person. If she wanted to go with Lyle, why hadn’t she said, “Can I come with you?”

  She’d been doing that all her adult life. She’d resented Scott’s attitude to her music, but she had never said, “Scott, music is important to me. My soul needs music, and it doesn’t make me love you any less.”

  Lyle, I love you. Would it be enough, to say that? He was being so strange, reaching out to her, then drawing back. Was it possible that he still loved the woman who had once been his wife?

  He’d written a love song for George, his stray lady.

  She wanted to go out walking, but she was afraid Lyle might phone and she would miss the call. She hadn’t given him the number. Had he looked at the phone and written it down? It was in the phone book, but what if he forgot Jake’s last name? Jake Austin. There was no reason for him to remember that.

  She had hoped he would want to do the documentary with Jake and Jenny. It would almost inevitably give his songs a boost, give him a way to make his living in the city, make it possible for her to live with him.

  She’d even live on a lighthouse if he really wanted that. It sounded like a trap, but it hadn’t felt like one when he held her in his arms. There had been the ocean and the beach. The music room. He had a plane that he brought out in the summers. They could fly everywhere, be free to move about.

  There were neighbors. Russ might smile at her again if she came back with Lyle. His wife, Dorothy, was almost certainly a nice woman. She’d like to see their new baby, the baby named Lyle.

  What was she going to do if Lyle didn’t want her?

  The phone didn’t ring. In the afternoon she called the hospital to ask about visiting hours. She thought Lyle might call her, suggest they visit Robyn together. He didn’t call.

  She went to the hospital near the end of the evening visiting hours. She found Robyn half-asleep, and alone.

  “Daddy was here a minute ago,” she mumbled. “I didn’t get any dinner, and they gave me a sleepy pill.”

  Her eyes drooped and she was asleep.

  Lyle was very close by. She could walk to his hotel in minutes, see him. But if he wanted to see her, wouldn’t he call her? Was she asking for too much, assuming too much? She shouldn’t have mentioned marriage. That had been her mistake. If he wanted an affair—

  It didn’t matter what he wanted. She’d be whatever he wanted—

  No, she wouldn’t! She’d finished with that. She was herself, George, faults and all.

  And she loved him.

  She went home. Twice she almost told the taxi driver to turn back, but in the end she arrived at Jenny and Jake’s home. She went to bed early and spent a sleepless night. What would he do if she called him in the middle of the night? No. Tonight belonged to Robyn. Tomorrow she’d have her surgery, and until that was over she couldn’t expect Lyle to have any time for anyone but his daughter.

  Then, if he wanted an affair, they’d have an affair. She’d take whatever loving he could give her. If he wanted the lighthouse, then George would go with him. She’d have to be honest with him, tell him she didn’t know how long she could live out there, but she’d try it.

  By mid-afternoon the next day she knew that she couldn’t stand waiting any longer. She’d always been terrible at waiting.

  She left Jenny’s house, went to the corner store, looking for a book to read, picked up a romance, knowing she couldn’t read it without thinking of Lyle. Then she ran back, imagining the phone ringing in an empty house. It started ringing as she was fumbling for the key in Jenny’s porch. She dropped the key. When she bent to pick it up, her purse disgorged its contents onto the floor.

  Damn! Wallet and lipstick all over. A scattering of odds and ends of useless paper. A few pennies. She left the mess and shoved the key into the lock. It stuck. She forgot for a minute that you had to hold up on the door for the key to turn smoothly. Why couldn’t Jenny and Jake have a house without these temperamental problems? She tripped on the rug inside the door, landing flat on her stomach with her hands taking a stinging slap against the linoleum.

  The telephone stopped ringing. She got to it finally, picked it up. She heard the howl of the dial tone in her ear. It had probably been Jenny, checking on plans for supper. Or someone selling something.

  What if he didn’t phone again? What if he had called her, and never tried again? What if he’d called with bad news about Robyn?

  She fumbled for the telephone book, searched desperately for the Holiday Inn.

  It rang again, a shrill sound. She jerked it up quickly.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, honey.” He sounded very close. She could feel his breath in her ear.

  “Did you call a minute ago?”

  “Yes. I thought I had the wrong number.”

  She shifted the receiver. Her fingers gripped it tightly. It was going to be all right. He’d called. And Robyn was all right. She knew from his voice that it was all right. “I was outside. I went to the store.” She glanced back at the open door. She hadn’t picked up the m
ess from her purse. “I couldn’t get the damned key to work in the lock. When I got to the phone, you were gone… Where are you? How did Robyn’s surgery go?”

  She could hear sounds with his voice. A radio? People? “The hotel. I just left Robyn at the hospital. She had her surgery. She was in the recovery room, groggy and mostly asleep. The doctor says it went perfectly, that after six months of physiotherapy she won’t know which leg had the limp.”

  “Does she know? Did you tell her?”

  “I told her, but she may not remember. She’s still pretty much under the anesthetic.”

  She sat down cross-legged on the floor, her hand flying out to stop the phone from crashing to the floor when she pulled the cord tight. “How long will she be in the hospital?”

  “About a week. She’s sharing a room with another girl who’s having surgery on her knee in the morning. They were comparing legs this morning as they wheeled Robyn out for her surgery.”

  “It’ll help her, having someone to talk to.” She wished she could see him. She wished she could touch him, because he’d be tired now, emotionally exhausted. She said, “I wish I’d been with you.”

  “George, I— will you have dinner with me?”

  “When?” She glanced down at herself, decided the skirt and blouse would do for anywhere short of a formal high-class dining room. “I could come to dinner now.”

  “Yes, now. I’ll pick you up.”

  She thought of sitting here, waiting for his taxi to drive up outside.

  “I’ll come to you,” she decided. She didn’t want to have to wait.

  “Let’s meet in the dining room here. We don’t have all that long before visiting hours at the hospital. I’ll order for us… and… George, I want more than dinner.”

  She wanted to answer, but the words couldn’t seem to squeeze past the lump in her throat.

  He did love her. He’d always loved her. She had to learn to have confidence in that.

  She called the taxi. Did she have time to change before it came? No. The dispatcher had said five minutes. She ran a comb through her hair, put lipstick on her lips. At the last moment she thought to leave a note for Jenny.

  ‘Having dinner with Lyle, then visiting Robyn in the hospital. George.’

  She looked at it, then picked up the pen again and added, ‘Don’t be surprised if I’m late.’

  I might not come home at all tonight, she thought, hugging the words to herself like a promise.

  The taxi drove up just as she closed the door of the house behind herself. The ride to the Holiday Inn seemed to take forever.

  She came into the dining room with her eyes searching for him. Instinctively she looked for the table where she’d seen him the night she’d dined here with Jenny. Over a year ago, and he’d been sitting right there.

  He was there. He’d already seen her. She walked towards him, very conscious of the way her hips were swaying, of the feel of the fabric sliding over her legs. She could see herself in his eyes. For the first time, she realized that she was an exciting woman.

  Not restless and immature, she told herself gaily. Exciting!

  “Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asked as he stood behind her, pulling out the chair for her to sit.

  “Only when you look at me like that,” she whispered. The waiter was at Lyle’s shoulder, a twinkle in his eye as if he’d heard their whispered words.

  Lyle had ordered a light wine for her. She held her hands around the glass, sipping, looking around. She could feel his eyes on her.

  “You were sitting over there the last time we were here.” He was following her eyes.

  “Yes.” She wasn’t quite ready to look at him, although her nervousness was mixed with an excitement that made it delicious. “Jenny was with me. She told me you were watching me.” She’d been very aware of him that evening, trying to pretend she couldn’t feel his eyes. Now she said abruptly, “Would you please tell me about Hazel?”

  The waiter leaned over the table, setting steaming bowls of soup down. “New England clam chowder,” he announced as he set George’s bowl down. “I hope you enjoy it, madam.”

  Lyle asked her, “What’s wrong?”

  She picked up her spoon, then shook her head and set it down carefully. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t eat clams.”

  He lifted his spoon, his lips pursing as he took some of the hot broth into his mouth. “It’s very good. Why don’t you try it?” His mouth curved in a lazy smile. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be squeamish about seafood.”

  She pushed the bowl aside and he suddenly realized, “Your bout with Red Tide?” He caught her hand, his callused fingers curving around hers. “Remind me to thank Jake when I see him again. I liked him, but I’d forgotten I had him to thank for your being alive… Honey, do we really have to talk about Hazel? I’d much rather talk about you.”

  His hand was large and strong, engulfing hers. Over his deep blue eyes, the brows were thick and tangled. Her eyes found a couple of long gray hairs mixed in with the rest.

  “You were the one who brought her up – yesterday. And I’ve been scared ever since.” She pulled at her hand, but his grip tightened.

  His hand squeezed hers momentarily. “Then I’d better talk about her. Honey, she’s no threat to you. I don’t know— thinking back, I can’t imagine how I ever came to be married to her.”

  He grinned slowly, his thumb stoking the back of her hand. “No, that’s not quite true. I was flying for a helicopter charter company in the north. I was away from my family and friends, in a strange place. Working a lot of overtime. I didn’t have much time for developing a social life, and— well, I was missing the company of a woman. Then I met Hazel at a party and— it was probably more lust than anything else, but settling down seemed like a good idea.”

  He stopped talking. She waited, watching the memories playing over his face. She wasn’t frightened anymore. Later, he would tell her that he loved her.

  He’d stopped talking, so she said, “And so you got married?”

  He nodded. “The fights started before the wedding. That should have warned me, but I was too stupid to realize. I don’t mean arguments.” He grinned. “With you and me, the sparks are part of it all. With Hazel the arguments were a total communications failure. I can’t think of anything we had in common. After the first while, the physical part wasn’t really all that great either.” His fingers were very soft on her hand. “I think it takes love to make a really good sex life, and we weren’t in love. It was mostly war.”

  She curled her fingers around his, feeling the stiff hairs at the back of his hand. “What did you fight about?”

  “Everything. She wanted to leave the north. I didn’t. She wanted me to apply for a job in California. I don’t know why I refused. I don’t know if I could have found a flying job there, but I didn’t even try.” He shrugged and she could feel his bewildered frustration. “George, somehow she seemed to bring out the worst in me. If she wanted something, I didn’t want it. If she didn’t, I did. Music— she hated the time I spent writing songs. She was furious when I bought the synthesizer. She wanted a trip to Europe. In the middle of one screaming fight, she took a hammer to my speakers. I don’t know how the hell I managed not to hit her that time.

  “I never did hit her, but by the time it was over I could understand how a man could come to striking a woman. Usually I walked out when we fought. In the end I came back from one of those three day flying charters and found her gone. She’d left Robyn with the baby sitter and told them both she wasn’t going to come back. She told Robyn she was sick of being mother to a kid with a gimpy leg, and wife to a husband that didn’t give a damn about her.”

  His hands were tight on hers, hurting. She wanted to hold him in her arms, but she couldn’t with all these people around.

  “I’m not proud of my part of it,” he went on slowly. “It hurt Robyn terribly. She must have heard a lot of the fighting. I surely did my part in that. I was no better a
husband to Hazel than she was a wife to me. If I loved her in the beginning – and I doubt that I did – I surely didn’t love her in the end. The only good thing that came out of it was Robyn. But it’s Robyn that makes me frightened of seeing Hazel again. I can’t believe she has any love for her daughter, and I don’t want Robyn hurt again.”

  Lyle stopped talking, either because the waiter appeared to take the soup away, or because there was no more to say.

  Their dinners would appear in a moment. She wasn’t hungry. Lyle hadn’t touched his soup. George had a horrible premonition that they would sit over dinner, close, yet separated by their mutual uncertainties. Then they’d go to visit Robyn, still with the barriers between them.

  She should tell him she loved him, but she couldn’t get the words out. She could feel the tension rising in her, was frightened she might say the wrong thing. She saw his eyes, saw him putting up barriers between them in the aftermath of his confidences about his disastrous marriage.

  “Can we go?” she asked tightly.

  He raised one thick eyebrow. “Dinner’s just coming?” He made it a question.

  The waiter was coming. Whatever he was carrying, she couldn’t eat it. “Can we please go— I— oh, damn!” She swallowed. “I love you, Lyle. Will you please get us out of here?”

  His voice was harsh. “What did you say?”

  “Your dinner, sir… madam.” The waiter deposited the plates in front of them with a flourish.

  Lyle stared at the turkey in front of him. “I’m sorry. I—” He looked up into the waiter’s curious face. “We have an urgent— ah— we have to go. Right away. If you could bring the bill?” Lyle’s face flushed darkly.

  The waiter was frowning at the heaped plates. “Sir, if you—”

  “Oh, hell!” Lyle said explosively. He met George’s eyes and they both started to laugh. The elderly woman at the table behind him craned around to stare. George got up quickly. Lyle caught her hand.

  “See what you started,” he growled.

  “I’m sorry.” She met the eyes of the woman at the other table. The woman was listening eagerly. George said, “I’m not sorry, really, but I am sorry about the dinner.” She smiled nervously at the waiter. “We’ll come back another time, I promise. But right now we do have to leave. Could you just charge the bill to his room?”