Sapphire and Shadow (A Woman's Life)

by Marie Ferrarella

  He was pleased that she liked it so much. “I’m making it for me.” He crossed the room to join her. Of all the things he had made, he was proudest of this.

  “Oh.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  She was. If it was meant for him, then she wasn’t free to ask if she could buy it. Not if it meant that much to him. “No, I thought that if you were making it for someone, I could offer you more money than they were paying you and buy it.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not for sale, luv.”

  “No, I understand.” And she did. When you put your heart into something, it was hard to part with it.

  This time, when she rose, her face was upturned, waiting.

  Tommy buried his hands in her hair. There was no testing of the waters this time. This time, they both knew what was waiting for them.

  Johanna felt herself swimming away, leaving earth behind and linking her soul to his as she reached toward heaven. But embarrassment tethered her when she felt Tommy pulling down the zipper of her dress. She shivered, wanting him desperately. But she placed a warning hand to his chest.

  “Tommy, your father—“ The protest was only halfhearted.

  He nuzzled her neck. His tongue made her skin quiver. The feeling shot straight through to her loins. “—Takes his nap about now and hears nothing.”

  Her heart was hammering hard in her ears. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  She could feel his smile against her neck. “I knew I liked him.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Clothes were shed, time stood still, and love, so soft, so elusive, so fiery in its rarity, rose up once more between them, creating paradise as the sun shone on the hope chest and bathed the room in reverent hues while it set in the west.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The hotel gym was nearly empty. Gleaming, state-of-the-art machines that could exercise and bring excruciating pain to just about every part of the human body stood dormant, like ill-tempered giants waiting to be awakened. For Mary’s money they could go right on sleeping. She sat next to Johanna. Both were perched on stationary bicycles. Only one of them was pedaling.

  “Mary, the only way to get anything out of this is to throw yourself into it.” Johanna panted as she spoke. “A little sweat won’t kill you.” She wiped her own from her brow with the back of her hand as if to punctuate the statement.

  “You sweat your way and I’ll sweat mine.” Mary’s smile was wicked, as was the look in her eye. “Speaking of sweating, how’s—Tommy, is it?”

  “Yes, it’s Tommy, as if you didn’t have the name memorized.” Johanna sounded casual, but the smile that lit her face up to a glow gave her away. “And he’s fine.”

  Mary leaned forward on the bicycle, gripping the handlebars. But she made no effort to move the pedals. She simply rested her feet on them. “You two really seem to hit it off.”

  Johanna’s mind wandered to that first afternoon in his van, momentarily distracting her from the mounting pain in her knee and the ache in her calves. “Right now, he’s good for me, Mary.”

  “Right now,” Mary echoed. “And how about in the future?”

  Johanna shook her head a little too emphatically. “I don’t make future plans anymore, not about men. I did that once and it almost killed me.”

  She shuddered as she remembered the scene in her bathroom, the running bath water, the razor in her hand, so close to her wrist, so close to permanently separating her from life.

  Her reaction did not go unnoticed by Mary. She opened her mouth to ask Johanna what was wrong, then decided that if her sister wanted her to know, she’d tell her. There was something that flashed through her older sister’s eyes which warned Mary to tread lightly here. Here was pain Johanna wasn’t prepared to talk about yet. It took a long time for Johanna to open up about things that truly devastated her. The way it had taken Johanna years to finally admit that their mother had killed herself and hadn’t just died.

  “Sounds reasonable to me.” Mary assumed a studied, careless pose. “I never make long range plans about men. There’s always a more interesting one just around the next bend.”

  Johanna laughed, the serious moment gone. “What’s the female equivalent of womanizer?”

  “Manizer?” Mary arched a brow.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Even if it were, it wouldn’t apply.” Mary tossed her head, her short silver blond hair dancing about her face

  before it settled back into place. “The term would mean I took advantage. I don’t.” She studied her nails and decided that she needed a manicure. Maybe she could take Jocelyn along and have them do her nails as well. The girl had bitten them down to the quick again. It was a habit that Jocelyn had developed since she last saw her. She’d have bitten her nails too if Harry had been her father, Mary thought. “1 merely enjoy and know the limitations these frail creatures called men have.”

  Johanna glanced at the large clock that hung on the opposite wall. Five more minutes before she could stop this torture. “That sounds more like a man-hater.”

  “Oh, no way Jose.” Mary shook her head again, this time with feeling. “Uh-uh, not me.” She licked her lower lip and grinned.

  Johanna wished she could be more like her sister. “You’re the one dad should worry about, not me.”

  Mary waved her hand at the statement. “Me he gave up on a long time ago, dear sister. You were always his tower of strength. I was always his prodigal daughter, always coming home to the fatted calf after a mad fling.” She grew thoughtfully silent for a moment, then posed prettily on the bicycle. It never hurt to be prepared. “He’s your first, isn’t he?”

  Two more maddening minutes. “My first what?”

  “Fling.”

  Johanna missed her rhythm and the bicycle wheel came to a squeaky halt. “I don’t exactly think of it in those terms.”

  “Okay,” Mary said gamely. “What term fits then?” Johanna, she knew, was never one to play word games with herself. Mary expected nothing less than honesty from her sister.

  “It doesn’t.” Johanna paused, thinking. “But if it did, I guess the word healing would come to mind.”

  “He’s a doctor?” She hadn’t told her very much about Tommy. Sometimes, Johanna was too introverted for her own good.

  “No, but he might as well be. He’s healed me, Mary. He’s made me feel whole.” Johanna gave up pedaling altogether. She got off the bicycle and picked up a towel to dry herself with.

  “Then why don’t you go for it?”

  Johanna stopped rubbing and stared at Mary. “Go for what?”

  “The whole thing.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Love, commitment. Set up housekeeping with Mr. Healer with the biceps to die for for as long as it feels right to you.”

  “I thought you didn’t care for muscles,” Johanna said, amused. At the same time, she was trying to evade her sister’s suggestion.

  Mary looked disdainfully at the exercise equipment as she slowly descended from her perch on top of the stationary bicycle. She really disliked regimented physical exercise. The only reason she had come along to the gym with Johanna was because she wanted to spend some time alone with her sister to talk things over.

  “Just because I don’t want any of my own doesn’t mean I don’t notice and admire them on gorgeous specimens of manhood.” Mary narrowed her eyes. “And you are trying to dodge the question. Why don’t you just move in with him and go on healing?”

  “It’s not as simple as that, Mary.” Johanna avoided Mary’s probing eyes, just as she was avoiding something within herself. “We’re two different people.”

  Mary shrugged. “So? Vive la difference.”

  Johanna draped the towel around her neck, holding on to the two ends, and sat down on a hard bench that ran along the length of the mirrored wall. “Maybe, but too much of a difference leads to problems eventually. He’s wonderful, kind, sweet—“

 
“And as a lover?” Mary believed in getting to the heart of the matter. Johanna averted her face, but not soon enough. “You’re blushing!” Mary cried, circling so that she could see Johanna’s face. She sat down on her other side. Her sister’s reaction delighted and surprised her at the same time. “My God, Johanna, you’ve been married for thirteen years and lived with Harry before that. How can you blush?”

  Johanna looked over toward the stationary bicycle. “Exercise,” she muttered.

  “I’ll bet, “ Mary snorted, dismissing the flimsy excuse. “On a scale of one to ten?”

  Johanna looked up and grinned. She couldn’t help it. “Nineteen.”

  “And you’re giving this up?” Mary clutched at her heart and pretended to fall backwards.

  The smile faded as serious thoughts came into play. “It’s not a matter of giving up.”

  “He has someone else?”

  “No.”

  “You have someone else?”

  “No.”

  Mary threw up her hands in exasperation. “Then what, for heaven’s sake?”

  “This is like a summer romance, Mary, an awakening. But fall is coming.”

  “So get warmer clothes. I’ll mail you some.” How could Johanna be giving up happiness after what she had been through with that slime? It didn’t make any sense to Mary. Johanna was a woman who needed commitment as much as she needed air to breathe. That was the basic difference between them. Mary didn’t.

  Johanna shook her head. “You always did tend to oversimplify. I have to get on with my life, find out what I can do as a person, get a job—no,” she amended fiercely, “get a career.”

  It still didn’t make any sense to Mary. “Have you been sleeping with Frank Sinatra records? I Gotta Be Me?” she clarified when Johanna stared at her.

  “No, but Frank has the right idea.”

  “He never had a guy like Tommy hanging around him.”

  “No, I imagine if he did, he’d have one of his bodyguards haul him away.”

  The two started to giggle and then laugh until Johanna held her sides, laughing helplessly and nearly falling off the bench.

  “God, it’s good seeing you again.” Johanna wiped the tears away from her eyes. “I’ve forgotten what it’s like to laugh this way. To feel this way.”

  “Welcome back to the real world, Johanna.” Mary squeezed her shoulder affectionately. “You’ve been gone much too long.”

  “Yes,” Johanna agreed, “yes, I have.” She rose to her feet and looked down at Mary, who hadn’t moved a muscle. “Do you want to do a few laps in the pool?”

  “No, but I’ll float while you lap.”

  “Ever the athlete.”

  Unfazed, Mary got to her feet. “I told you, I save myself for other indoor sports.”

  The door to the gym opened and closed, echoing in the large hall. They both turned and saw Jocelyn walking in quickly. Mary gestured for her niece to come over, calling out, “Over here, kid. I thought you were visiting your friend in the next suite.”

  Jocelyn crossed to them quickly. It was Mary who she joined, looking relieved to see her aunt. She cast nervous eyes toward her mother and Johanna instantly knew that something was wrong and it wasn’t going to be an easy matter to brush off.

  She put her hands on Jocelyn’s shoulders. “What’s the matter?”

  Jocelyn swallowed and thrust a newspaper at het, the tears she had held back rising up instantly. “Is it true, Mom? Is it true?”

  “Is what true, honey?” Nervous, Johanna took the paper from her. She glanced down at the front page, her mind still on her daughter’s distress. “I can’t tell you until I— Omigod!”

  “What?” Mary circled to stand on her toes and look over Johanna’s shoulder at the newspaper. “Wow!” Her immediate reaction was to put her arm around her niece as Johanna read the first few paragraphs of the story. Harry’s picture took up more than a quarter of the page. He was wearing handcuffs and flanked by two policemen.

  “They can’t arrest daddy, can they?” Jocelyn cried, her tears spilling down her face. Arrest seemed so final, so frightening.

  Johanna pressed her lips together. Harry had been arrested for possession of cocaine while entering the country.

  The fool, the pompous fool.

  She hated him for this, not because of any feelings she had left for him. There were none, she knew that now. It was as if a portion of her had been opened up and what had been there had just flowed out of her. There was no love, no anger for what he had done to her. But she hated him for the look in Jocelyn’s eyes. How could he? How could he put himself into such a position, knowing that it would effect his daughter?

  “I’m afraid they can, Jocey.”

  “We have to help him!” Jocelyn pleaded.

  Johanna drew her close and exchanged looks with Mary over her daughter’s head. To Jocelyn, Harry was still the wonderful father who brought home gifts from his travels, the father who, though he might not have time for her as often as she liked, shared secrets with her, let her do things her mother would only disapprove of. He treated her like an adult, not like a child the way her mother did. He never said no, always said give it a try, and he gave her that extra shove when she wanted it, even though she was frightened at times.

  Johanna knew all this, knew the enemy she faced in Harry, knew he did it not from indulgence, but from a lack of concern as to the consequences. She had found out that it was Harry who had given Megan that marijuana joint she had smelled in Jocelyn’s room the night she had almost committed suicide. Had given it to the girl knowing that she would probably share it with Jocelyn. It was like giving his permission for Jocelyn to be reckless. He did it not because he wanted her to sample life but because he didn’t care.

  But Jocelyn could never know that. It would hurt much too deeply.

  “I was going to call our lawyer anyway,” Johanna said to Jocelyn. “I’ll just make the call a little earlier, that’s all.”

  “This isn’t going to change your mind, is it?” Mary’s voice was low, her eyes carrying her meaning even if her words couldn’t at the moment.

  “No,” Johanna answered, stroking Jocelyn’s hair, “it’s only made me realize how right I am about all of this.” She looked down into Jocelyn’s upturned face. “C’mon, honey, dry your eyes. We’ll see what we can do to straighten out this mess.”

  “They shouldn’t have been going through his things,” Jocelyn said vehemently, her hands clenched into fists.

  She couldn’t let it go, not even now. “No, he shouldn’t have been carrying what he was carrying,” Johanna said quietly.

  Jocelyn stiffened and pulled back. “You’ve always been against him.”

  “No.” Johanna refused to let her daughter back away. “I’ve always been the one in his corner. He just never realized it, that’s all. Let’s go upstairs, Jocey. I’ve got calls to make.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  There was no more anger, no more pain, only pity. Johanna felt only pity for Harry. And pity on its own was a dreadful thing. It spelled the end of everything between Harry and Johanna.

  It set her free.

  Still, there were things to be done because of the past and because he was Jocelyn’s father. She called their lawyer as soon as she read the article. Sidney Montaigne was a short, bald, overweight little man who tended to wear bow ties and vests and to think a great deal of himself. He had a right to the latter. Fussy, opinionated, sharp-tongued, he was still the best in his field. Harry paid a great deal to keep the man on retainer. And Sid, Johanna thought, was about to earn every penny of that sum.

  Sid wasn’t happy to receive her transatlantic call. He was one step ahead of her, having read the story, courtesy of UPI, in the morning paper. But responsibility was the cornerstone of his reputation and he had spent a long time cultivating his image. “I’ll get the next flight out of LAX to Heathrow.”

  She could hear the displeasure in his voice. “I’ll be there to meet you.” And no
w for the bombshell. “And Sid—“

  “Yes?” The single word was rimmed with impatience. Sid, a born and bred New Yorker from the Bronx, was always in a hurry and had no tolerance for people who couldn’t keep up.

  “Bring divorce papers with you.”

  Any mental calculations he was doing about the effects of the trip on his already overcrowded schedule came to an abrupt halt. “For whom?”

  She could just see his expression. For some reason, it pleased her. She had never really like the man. “Guess.”

  “Johanna.” He exhaled a loud sigh. It was the same sigh that intimidated the law clerks at the firm. Johanna was impervious to it. “This is a rotten time to make jokes in poor taste.”

  While Sid did not openly worship the dollar, she knew that he thought walking away from it was tantamount to being labeled certifiably insane. Fine, she thought, you marry Harry. I’ve had it. “I’m not joking, Sid. I’m very, very serious.”

  In his experience, women tended to run, frightened, taking the family jewels at the first hint of trouble. Sid’s line of work did not make him an optimist about human nature. “Look, he’ll beat this wrap, Johanna. He’ll ride it out.”

  “Maybe, with you in his corner, but I won’t be there to see it.”

  Another nasty divorce with its accompanying mudslinging. “Don’t do anything hasty, Johanna,” he counseled.

  “Ten years in the making isn’t anything hasty, Sid. It’s slow. Damn slow.” She didn’t owe him an explanation, but she gave it anyway. “This isn’t because of the scandal that might be whipped up. This has been a long time in coming. I was going to call you today anyway. I’d already made up my mind. That Harry was stupid enough to bring cocaine in his luggage is beside the point. That he was stupid enough to bring it into his life is the point. It changed him, changed him so much that I don’t even know him. I don’t want to know him.” She lowered her voice and turned from where Jocelyn and Mary were sitting on the sofa, watching her. “And he’s a bad influence on Jocelyn. I’m bailing out not just for me, but for her.”