The Other Woman

by Joy Fielding

  Jill watched the young girl as she worked, her bones protruding sharply underneath her blouse. "You didn't eat much," Jill said.

  "The cake wasn't done right," Laurie commented.

  Jill sighed. "I know. I meant you didn't eat much in general. Of anything."

  "Yes I did."

  "No, I watched you. You just shuffled it around on your plate all night."

  Laurie shrugged. Jill decided to try again.

  "Laurie, is everything all right?"

  "How do you mean?"

  "I mean, are you feeling all right? Are you happy?"

  "Which one?" the girl questioned, putting the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and standing up straight.

  "Well, we'll start with the first, I guess," Jill replied. "You're feeling okay?"

  "Sure."

  "No aches or pains anywhere?"

  Laurie shrugged her bony shoulders for the second time in as many minutes. Jill thought she spotted a slight blush in the young girl's cheeks.

  "Trouble with your periods?" she asked softly.

  Laurie looked away and said nothing.

  Sensing this was perhaps the problem, Jill pressed on gently. "I remember when I started my period," she said, feeling Laurie tense noticeably beside her in exactly the same way David's body would tense to any news he didn’t care to hear. "I used to get the worst cramps. Sometimes I'd have to stay in bed all day. I didn't like letting something get the better of me that way, but sometimes you have to recognize when you're licked, and just accept it. My mother always used to tell me that the cramps wouldn't be as bad as I got older, and she was right."

  "My mother calls it the curse," Laurie said, her back to Jill.

  "Oh, no, it's not!" Jill said with great feeling. "It's a wonderful thing, Laurie. It means you're growing up. That you're becoming a woman!"

  Laurie turned around abruptly, her eyes suddenly much older than her years. "Who said that's such a wonderful thing?"

  Jill wasn't sure how she should respond. "Life is what you make it, Laurie," she said finally.

  "Well, I'm fine," Laurie responded. "I don't have any aches or pains and my periods are none of your business."

  Jill felt the sharpness of the rebuke all over her body. "How are things at home?" she asked softly.

  "My mother's putting in a new swimming pool. It'll be ready the end of next week."

  "Just in time for autumn," Jill said, trying to keep her voice light. "Is she still dating Ron Santini?"

  "Yes."

  Jill shook her head. It had to be a different Ron Santini.

  "Do you like him?"

  "He's all right."

  "He treats you nicely?"

  Laurie looked perplexed. "He's all right," she repeated.

  "Your mother likes him?"

  Laurie's answer was swift. "She's not going to marry him, if that's what you're getting at."

  "I'm just trying to get at the root of what's bothering you," Jill said, realizing she had raised her voice.

  "There's nothing bothering me.”

  "Then why don't you eat?!"

  "I do eat! Why don't you leave me alone?!" She stormed out of the kitchen and back into the living room, plopping herself down in the middle of the sofa, sniffing back the tears Jill could see forming. Jill sat down beside her.

  'T don't want you to cry, hon," she said, touching the child's arm. "I want to reach you, touch you—"

  "You touch my father. Isn't that enough?"

  Jill withdrew her hand. "Wow!" she said, standing up and releasing a deep breath. "Is that what it is? That you still haven't forgiven me for marrying your father?"

  "I don't want to talk about it," the girl said.

  "One day we're going to have to."

  "Why?"

  "Because I'd like for us to be friends," Jill said.

  "I have enough friends," came the reply. "I don't need any more."

  "Do you need any enemies?" Jill asked bluntly. Laurie turned her head away. "Look, Laurie, I don't mean to be tough on you, but facts are facts. And one of those facts is that I'm married to your father. And I intend to stay married to your father." She stopped, suddenly aware of how often lately she'd had to defend that position. Her thoughts re-focused on her husband's child. "All I'm trying to say is that if your father's marriage to me is what's making you unhappy, then you're just going to have to learn to live with it because it's not going to change. I love your father. Believe it or not, he loves me. And he loves you—you know that."

  "I never see him," Laurie said, tears starting to fall.

  "Who does?!" Jill answered, sitting back down beside the girl. "He's very busy these days," she continued. "What do you expect from a man who's late for his own birthday party!" She reached over and took Laurie's hands in her own. "But it’s part of what we were talking about in the kitchen, part of growing up. Recognizing that there are certain things in life that we have to accept, and then making everything else as easy on ourselves as possible. Starving yourself to death isn't going to accomplish anything!"

  Laurie tore her hands away from Jill's with such force that Jill was afraid the youngster was going to strike out. Instead, she jumped to her feet and began pacing back and forth in front of her. ''Why can't you just shut up and leave me alone?" Laurie yelled, her voice high-pitched and bordering on hysteria. ''Why couldn't you leave us all alone? You just messed up everybody's lives when you came butting in. You took my father away. You made my mother unhappy. She cries—I can't tell you how much she cries— and it's all because of you. She's so busy trying to forget about my father that she hardly has any time for me anymore. Nobody has time for me," Laurie cried, sobbing now, her frail body shaking like a scarecrow in a windstorm.

  Jill remained seated on the sofa, slowly extending her arms toward the child. "I have time," she said. "Please, Laurie, I have so much time."

  Laurie's body swayed in her direction.

  "Can you cut out all the noise in there," Jason yelled from the den. "I can't hear the television."

  The sound of her brother's voice snapped Laurie back into her shell. Her back straightened; her arms reached up and quickly wiped away her tears. We're back at square one, Jill thought. "Then get off the phone," Jill shouted angrily at Jason. She looked back at Laurie, seeing pieces of Elaine in the young girl's face. It was strange, she realized, but she'd never imagined Elaine crying. The woman is a human being, after all, she suddenly found herself thinking, not just an adding machine. It was a disconcerting thought.

  "Do you think that by being my friend you'd be being disloyal to your mother?"

  "I already told you," came the reply. "I don't need any more friends."

  Jill stood up, about to leave the room. She stopped when she reached the hallway. "I guess it's time I started to take my own advice," she said, her back to Laurie. "About accepting the inevitable and making things as easy on everyone as I can." She turned to face the child. "I won't pester you again, Laurie. I won't ask any more personal questions and I won't comment on what you eat or don't eat. But I want you to know that I will be here if you ever want to talk—about anything—or if you do decide that you can always use another friend. Whatever. The next move has to come from you." She paused. "I'm going to bed. I'm tired. I've had a lousy day. You and Jason can work out who'll get the sofa and who'll get the pull-out bed. I'll leave some sheets and blankets in the hall." She started out of the room, then stopped again. "Tell Jason to get off the goddamn phone," she said, then walked without stopping into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her and bursting into a flood of silent tears.

  She heard David's key in the door at just after eleven-thirty. He tiptoed into their room and started undressing in the dark.

  "It's all right, I'm awake," Jill said from the bed.

  "You startled me," he said, his voice noticeably strained.

  "Sorry. I just meant that you didn't have to tiptoe around. You aren't disturbing me. You can even turn on a light if you want."


  "No, not necessary," he said, approaching the bed.

  "Where were you? It's late."

  "My mother doesn't exactly live next door," he answered, crawling in beside her. "And she wanted to talk." He pulled Jill's body close against his.

  "About what?"

  "About what,'' he repeated, a short laugh catching in his throat. ''About her son who should be more considerate of his wife. God, you women stick together!"

  Jill moved her hands down along her husband's body. "Want to make love?" she asked, feeling him squirm away from her touch.

  "The kids—"

  "Aren't they asleep?"

  "I guess so."

  "So?"

  "So, I just wouldn't feel comfortable making love with them so close—"

  "That's ridiculous!"

  "Maybe so, but it’s how I feel. Come on, Jill, I'm tired. I've had a hard day at the office, I've had a hard time from you—"

  "Not hard enough," she said, trying to joke, reaching for him.

  "Very funny," he said, pulling farther away. "Lx>ok, let's get some sleep tonight, all right?"

  "I guess you're not interested in hearing about my day," she said, sounding as dejected as she felt.

  "To be perfectly honest, you're right," he said. "I'm sorry, Jill, I'm just so tired." He suddenly sat up in bed and pounded his fist against his pillow. "All right, goddamn, tell me about your day."

  "Never mind."

  "No, oh no, I'm not going to be the heavy here. I insist you tell me about your day."

  Jill turned over in the bed. "I saw Irving today. He says there's nothing for me at the network."

  "Well, you didn't think there would be," he reminded her.

  "You don't have to sound so pleased," she chastised.

  "Sorry, I didn't mean to. So—what else happened to you today?" he said testily.

  "I had a fight with Laurie."

  "What about?"

  "The fact that she doesn't eat, the fact that I happen to be married to her father, the fact that she hates my guts."

  "Oh, Jill," he said wearily, "leave the kid alone. She's just going through a phase. A few years ago, she was almost pudgy. I remember giving her behind a tap and telling her that there was a bit too much jiggle for my tastes."

  Jill became instantly self-conscious. "My God, what do you think about me?" she asked.

  "I think that you're a woman and she's a little girl. And I think that as much as I love you, I'm going to throttle you if you don't let me get some sleep."

  Jill let her body relax against David's. "All right, I can take a hint," she said, allowing her eyes to close. Things had to be better tomorrow, she thought, suddenly anxiously anticipating sleep.

  The phone rang.

  "What now?" she demanded, reaching across her husband and grabbing for the phone. "If it's Elaine, she's gone too far, and I'm going to let her have it! Hello?"

  She knew the voice immediately, recognizing the dark huskiness. "Can I speak to David, please?"

  "It's almost midnight," Jill said, angrily. This was too much—the woman had made him late for dinner and now she was invading the privacy of their bedroom! It was too much.

  "I'm very aware what time it is. May I please speak to David?"

  "Who is it?" David asked.

  Jill said nothing, stretching the receiver over to her husband. "Who is it?" he asked again.

  What the hell did she want? And why now?

  "Hello?" David asked. "Who is this? Nicki! Is everything all right?" There was a pause. Jill watched David's face change from confusion to concern to outright horror in the space of several minutes. "My God. When did it happen? Why didn't someone call me earlier?" Another pause. He turned angrily to Jill. "Who the hell was on the phone?" he demanded.

  Jill stared at her husband, frightened by the tone of his voice. "Jason," she stammered. "Jason was on the phone for a long time—"

  He had stopped listening, was back engrossed in his conversation. "I can't believe it. Dead?"

  "Who's dead' Jill asked.

  “Where have they taken her?"

  "Who?"

  "What? All right. What? Yes, I'll be there first thing in the morning. What? Don't be silly. You have no reason to apologize. Of course you were right to call. I'll see you tomorrow." He dropped the phone onto the bed. Jill returned it to its proper position.

  "Who's dead?" she asked again.

  David's voice was incredulous. "Al Weatherby," he said quietly.

  "Al is dead? I don't believe it! How, for God's sake?"

  "Murdered."

  "What?!"

  "Beth is in the hospital. The General. Apparently, whoever killed Al worked her over pretty good."

  "Beth! But that can't be—I just spoke to her! My God, no. It can't be!" She jumped out of bed and began circling the room. "What can we do? Should we go to the hospital?"

  'The police aren't allowing any visitors until morning." He paused. "It happened around ten o'clock, Nicki said. Don Eliot called her. Apparently, half the firm's team calling here, but the line was busy. She decided to wait and try again now." He shook his head. "It's incredible, the whole thing."

  "Has anyone notified their children?"

  “I’m sure the police are taking care of that."

  Jill sat back down on the bed. "Did—did Nicole say how it happened? Or who?''

  "Nothing. We don't know anything. Only that AI Weatherby is dead and that Beth is in the hospital."

  Only that All Weatherby is dead, Jill repeated to herself, and that Beth is in the hospital.

  Chapter 13

  The hospital corridor was lined with police.

  David and Jill stepped off the crowded elevator onto the seventh floor and were promptly directed toward the waiting room, where they were told to do just that. Jill felt her husband's hand at her elbow guiding her toward the designated area. She had to run to keep up with his stride.

  They reached the waiting room, and, for an instant, Jill felt as if they had stumbled into one of the staff lounges at Weatherby, Ross. Half the firm was present, most of whom David had spoken to the night before, after Nicki's terrifying phone call. Most stood up to greet David, as if he were the one who could make all the jumbled jigsaw pieces fit together again. Maybe they did that with all the new arrivals, Jill thought absently. Some of the men and almost all of the women were openly weeping. David embraced as many of his cohorts as he could manage before he was approached by a policeman who asked for his name and connection to the deceased and his wife.

  Jill became suddenly aware of just how many policemen there were in the reasonably small quarters. Six in uniform, possibly several more in plain clothes. Everyone was talking at once, trying to come to grips with what had happened. The morning paper, several copies of which lay opened on the various tables, had shed no light at all on the matter other than to confirm in large, ugly black lettering that Al Weatherby, one of Chicago's leading legal lights, had been brutally beaten to death, his skull having sustained massive fractures from a blunt instrument. Beth Weatherby was supposedly in deep shock, with multiple injuries to her head and body, apparently lucky to be alive. Who could have done such an awful thing? And why, for God's sake?

  “Could I have your name, please?"

  Jill turned to stare at the young police officer. He couldn't be more than twenty-one, she thought, quickly looking at the others. They were all about the same age, she realized. Just babies. Or was it that the older she got, the younger everybody else seemed? Right now she felt as old as Methuselah, and probably looked a good deal older than that. Nicole's phone call had made sure she hadn't gotten any sleep, just as the lady, herself, had made sure Jill hadn't had a real rest since their first meeting approximately two months before.

  ''Jill Plumley," she answered, not sure how much time had elapsed between the question and her response.

  "This man is your husband?" the officer asked, indicating David. Jill nodded. "Are you a lawyer too?"

  Jill shook
her head. "No. I'm in—" She stopped, realizing she had been about to say "in television." "I'm a teacher," she said. "I can't believe this has happened," she muttered, convinced the young man had heard this remark a hundred times this morning. "I just spoke to Beth last night."

  "What?" The policeman's entire posture suddenly changed. He stood up straighter; his back arched; his eyes reflected genuine interest. Jill was immediately aware of his change in attitude.

  "I said I just spoke to her last night."

  "About what time?"

  “About five-thirty. Closer to six, I guess."

  The policeman quickly jotted down the information. "Excuse me a minute, please," he said, and went out into the hall. Jill saw him conferring with an older man in street clothes who turned immediately in Jill's direction and then followed the officer back toward her.

  David, who had been talking to several of his partners, sensed something was happening that he should be aware of, and returned to his wife's side.

  "What's going on?" he asked, as the plainclothes police officer approached and introduced himself.

  "I'm Captain Keller," he said pleasantly. "Mrs. Plumley, is it?"

  "Yes," Jill answered, aware eyes were beginning to turn in her direction.

  "Officer Rogers tells me you spoke to Beth Weatherby last night."

  "Between five-thirty and six, yes."

  "May I ask please what the gist of that conversation was?"

  Jill began to speak. It was silent in the room. Jill realized that she was the center of attention and became instantly uncomfortable, as if she were center-stage and all around her cameras were recording her every move. It was a role she didn't like, much preferring to direct the camera's point of view—okay. Rick, see that tall, skinny policeman over j there by the door, and see if you can get him to move over closer to the window when we talk to him. Get the tree in the shot if you can. It'll give the scene a little more color. Her cameras had allowed her to get right into the middle of things without having to get directly, personally, involved. Now she was definitely in the center of things, but without her camera she felt naked and vulnerable and a bit foolish. What she had to say, after all, wasn't very important. It didn't matter, she realized, looking at the faces around her. At least she had something new to report. Something they hadn't heard before. That would be enough.