Among the Ducklings

by Marsh Brooks

  “Wait a minute. We're not going through this again. This time, I know you can't mean it. You love me,” Phil protested.

  “Actually, I thought I did. But last night, I just realized that what I felt for you was just a physical attraction and nothing else.”

  “You can't mean that Isabel.”

  “Yes, I do. I love Richard. Good bye, Phil.” As Isabel was getting ready to hang up, she could hear Phil's protesting. Then the line went dead. She had already hung up. Isabel was relieved that she was on the phone and not in front of Phil as tears flowed down Isabel's face, betraying her last words to Phil.

  Phil looked at the phone in his hands and wondered what just happened. Did he just lose Isabel? He always felt that Isabel loved him. Was it only an attraction for her? He wished he could call back or go to her house and talk to her. But he knew that he would never do that. When a woman doesn't want you, you stay away. If you didn't, he knew, based on his legal background, this could be considered harassment or stalking. Besides, he loved Isabel. If staying away from her would make her happy, he would comply. He didn't like it or understand it. Phil was hurt by it. But Phil didn't have a choice.

  Before Isabel called, Phil was sitting in the living room, listening to a music album by Jacques Brel, a celebrated French singer that Phil had liked since he was introduced to French music by a French teacher.

  As Phil returned from the kitchen to the living room after his conversation with Isabel, Jacques Brel was singing a song called “Vesoul”, about a woman who couldn't make up her mind. Phil turned off the CD player. He knew this song couldn't possibly describe Isabel, because she had made up her mind this morning. All he was left with was a broken heart.

  ##

  The phone rang twice before Phil noticed that another call was coming in. Was it Isabel calling back to say she loved him and was leaving Richard for him? Somehow he doubted that.

  He went to the kitchen and picked up the phone. It was Stacy.

  “I almost hung up,” Stacy said. “I thought you weren't home.”

  “I was in the living room. I didn't hear the phone ring.” It felt good to talk to Stacy for once. He was feeling gloomy and wanted to talk to someone. Besides, he wanted to apologize to Stacy for having let Stacy down and for not helping after the miscarriage.

  “Actually, I'm here in Miami and I'm on my way to the Keys now. I wanted to know if you would want to come. That would give me a chance to reconnect and talk to you. I know that you must blame me for what happened. I just wanted you to hear my side.”

  “OK, I'll go. I haven't been to the Keys in a while,” Phil said. He wanted to talk to Stacy, but hadn't thought that he would be taking a trip with her. However, after the love of his life just walked out on him, He didn't care anymore. He was tired of thinking about what he could have done to make Isabel love him more, or enough to be with him instead of Richard.

  “I'll pick you up in an hour,” Stacy said and they both hung up. Stacy was surprised. It was pure luck. She didn't expect Phil to say yes. Stacy wondered whether something might have happened between Phil and Isabel. Stacy would not complain. When opportunity knocks, you don't just open the door, you come out and greet it. The only problem was that when she called Phil, she wasn't planning on going to the Keys. She only said it because she knew that Phil used to like going there. She had one hour to get ready, change her limo for a rental car, get a nice place in the Keys, and pickup Phil. That would seem impossible to do in one hour. But when you have money, impossible was not in the vocabulary. It was time for Stacy to call her personal concierge, to make her truly earn the expensive monthly payments that she had been paying her.

  ##

  When Marcia came to pick up Isabel, Isabel was not in a good mood. She felt that she had to do what was right, which meant not cheat on Richard with Phil, even if that meant losing Phil. Her Catholic upbringing had taught her that she could only have one man in her life, and she had made her choice three years ago before Phil even came into the picture.

  “Are you OK? You're very quiet,” Marcia asked Isabel, as they were on their way to meet Mark's parents.

  “I’m OK. Just tired, I guess,” replied Isabel. Isabel was not really in the mood to talk. She was having a horrible morning. Leaving the love of her life was extremely painful. She could share happiness with many people, but with whom could she share this pain? She would try to bear it, but Isabel knew that it was not going to be easy.

  “Have you thought about what you are going to tell them?” Marcia asked.

  “Who?”

  “Mark's parents? Are you sure you're OK?”

  “I'm fine. I thought you were going to talk to them,” Isabel said.

  “I am,” Marcia answered. “I just wanted to know if you're going to add something else.”

  “When the baby is born, I just want Rebecca to have enough to take care of the baby,” Isabel replied.

  “I know.” Marcia replied. Both Marcia and Isabel knew that Mark's parents were very wealthy and successful. Mark's mother had a talk show on one of the local television stations about nutrition that had been bought by a major network. Mark's father owned a chain of self-storage warehouses and moving trucks all over Florida. Unlike many of the super wealthy people Marcia had met, Mark's father was very humble, and Marcia hoped for Rebecca's sake that Mark's parents would help Mark provide financially for the baby.

  ##

  Vanna Francis was staying at a cheap motel on Biscayne Boulevard in Miami, when she got the call. She had to drive to the Keys to stake out a house in Key West to get the scoop that she had been waiting for. Vanna was a very good photojournalist. Although she covered celebrities, she hated when people referred to photojournalists like her as paparazzi. Vanna could have stayed in nicer hotels. But why waste the money, when you are a single mother with a teenage son to raise? Her ex-husband was a drug addict who had been sent away for numerous drug violations in California. She was left by herself to raise her son. She was the type of mother women wish to be. Her son was all she had. She was good at being a mother. She was good at her job.

  Like many photojournalists, Vanna was a freelancer. She was not on a salary and only got paid by the tabloids for work she produced. This is why she was excited about a call she had received last week, prior to her arriving in Miami.

  “Vanna Francis?” a voice Vanna did not recognize had asked.

  “Yes?”

  “Would you like an exclusive on Stacy Marshall?”

  “The actress and movie producer?”

  “Yes, the model, actress and movie producer,” the female voice had corrected.

  “Who is this?”

  “My name isn't important,” the person had replied.

  “How do I know this is real? What kind of scoop are you talking about?”

  “I'll tell you what, the female voice said. We will pay for your trip and will give you pocket money. In return, you will be the first to report on the new man in Ms. Marshall's life.”

  “So who's the new man in her life?”

  “We'll let you know,” said the voice before hanging up.

  Vanna didn't believe a word of what the mysterious woman said until a courier brought her a package the following day, which included cash in the amount of $4,500 and a plane ticket to Miami.

  “Did you receive everything?” the caller asked later that evening.

  “OK, you made your point. I'm listening,” Vanna said.

  “Just fly to Miami and wait for our call.”

  “How long do I have to be there?”

  “It depends. However, if you can't get your scoop within two weeks, you can call the deal off and keep the money. We'll tell you when to move,” the voice had said.

  “Fine, it's your money,” Vanna had responded. She could not be so lucky. Vanna had to pinch herself to see if this was real. It was the first time she got money from someone other than a newspaper to cover a story. On top of that, she would get paid by the tabloid for the scoop.
There was no reason to doubt the scoop. Someone would never have gone to this great length and spent so much money for this unless that person was telling her the truth. Vanna understood that the caller behind the telephone call might have her own motive. As a photojournalist, however, she was going to be fair to everyone. Deep inside, Vanna wondered who would want this story published. Vanna decided someone didn't like Stacy and wanted her life exposed to the public. Little did Vanna know that she was very wrong and that she was being pulled like a puppet on a string.

  ##

  Marcia and Isabel reached the Cuban restaurant five minutes after their reservation time. When they entered the dining room, Frank and Melinda Miles were already seated, waiting for them.

  “We are sorry for being so late,” Marcia said. “The traffic was horrible.”

  “Don't worry about it,” Frank said.

  “We usually leave a little bit early, to make sure the traffic doesn't cause us to be late,” Melinda said.

  Ignoring the slight, looking at Melinda, Isabel asked, “How is it going with the show?”

  “We're going national and so it's been very hectic,” Melinda replied. Isabel always wondered how Frank and Melinda managed to stay together for so long. Frank, the unassuming nice man everyone liked, and Melinda, the woman from hell, at least as was reported by some of her former staff who had worked with her on her show.

  Both Frank and Melinda were in their late forties, and Melinda's physique belied her age. Melinda's show sometimes featured her running several miles a day.

  “Thank you for meeting us on such short notice,” Marcia said. The waiter then came to take their order, interrupting Marcia. After the waiter departed, Melinda, looking at Marcia, said, “Couldn't this be done by phone? We all have busy lives, and as a doctor, you should know that.”

  Marcia ignored Melinda and said, “It's about Mark, and I was hoping that you would understand, once you hear what we have to say.”

  Melinda was going to reply when Frank interrupted her and asked, “What about Mark?”

  “He is going to be a father.”

  Frank and Melinda look shocked.

  “Does Mark know that?” Frank asked.

  “Yes,” Isabel replied. “Apparently, he wants Rebecca to have an abortion.”

  “I can't believe it,” Frank said. “I hope Rebecca didn't agree to that. I know that they are young, but understand, this would be our first grandchild.”

  “How do you know it's Mark's baby?” Melinda retorted.

  “Mark and Rebecca are dating. I don't know who else could be the father,” an offended Isabel responded.

  “Nowadays, kids sleep around. Maybe it's someone else's,” Melinda insisted.

  Marcia was going to respond when an angry Isabel interrupted her. She had had a bad morning and she was not going to let Melinda make it worse than it already was. “We came here because we were hoping that you would want to be part of the child's life. I won't sit here and let you insult Rebecca.”

  “We know our Mark,” Melinda replied. “He would never put himself in that situation. Mark has a great future ahead of him. I don't know why Rebecca can't have the abortion. Anyway, I doubt it's Mark's child.”

  Frank looked stunned at his wife's statement and before anyone could respond, Isabel said, “This is Rebecca's fault as well as your son's. I'm not going to sit here and let you accuse my sister of being loose. This meeting is over.” Turning to her aunt, Isabel said, “Let's go Tia Marcia. We're wasting our time.”

  “Wait,” Frank interjected, “let's discuss this.”

  “There is nothing to discuss Frank,” Isabel replied. “Melinda said enough. You have my phone number. Just call me if you change your mind.”

  As Marcia and Isabel got up, Marcia turned to a visibly furious Melinda and said, “Do us a favor, pick up the tab.” Then they both walked out.

  “What was that all about?” Marcia asked Isabel when they were outside the restaurant.

  “I wasn't going to let them insult Rebecca,” Isabel responded.

  “Are you sure, you're OK. I have never seen you act like this before,” Marcia said.

  “I'm OK,” Isabel replied. On any other day, Isabel would have calmly discussed the issue with Frank and Melinda in spite of Melinda's rudeness. Today, the day that she had sacrificed her love to honor a promise she made three years ago, wasn't one of those days.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Stacy knocked on Phil's door, he was amazed how good she looked.

  “You haven't changed a bit,” Phil said.

  “Liar,” replied an amused Stacy. “You look pretty good yourself.”

  “I don't feel it,” Phil replied. Stacy thought he was talking about his injury and asked, “How is your ankle?”

  “It's getting there,” Phil replied. “I didn't get the chance to ask, are we coming back this evening?”

  “Don't be silly. There is so much to do down there. I promise you that we’ll be back in two days tops,” Stacy replied. Phil was looking forward to the trip to take his mind off everything. Simply sitting by the ocean with a book in his hand would be very therapeutic, he thought.

  “Where are we staying?” Phil asked.

  “I have rented this oceanfront house. My concierge said that it has everything we can possibly need, from jet skis to scuba gear. Let's hope she's right,” Stacy replied. Phil grabbed his carry-on bag by the front door and he and Stacy walked out to the car.

  “What a beautiful car!” Phil said as they approached the rented yellow convertible in Phil's driveway.

  “I had to ditch the limousine this morning. I know that you don't like it when people look pretentious,” Stacy said with a nice smile.

  “That's funny,” Phil said. He thought that Stacy was joking about the limousine.

  When Stacy pulled out of her driveway, he noticed Stacy was going the wrong way and remarked, “You need to get a map of Miami. The Florida Turnpike is the other way.”

  Stacy turned and winked at Phil, “You didn't think that we were going to drive to Key West, did you?”

  ##

  It took Stacy and Phil less than half an hour to reach the Tamiami Airport. As they boarded the chartered plane, Stacy hoped that Vanna had already left for the Keys. Stacy calculated that it would take Vanna almost four hours to get there. She couldn't wait for Isabel to see racy tabloid photos of her and Phil on the beach. At the beginning, she just wanted to confront Isabel and let the pictures do the talking later. Now, what better way than to bring the pictures herself for more drama. But the first thing she needed to do was to make sure she was in Phil's arms when the pictures were taken. This was why the miscarriage story would have to be told on the private beach tomorrow, when she would be crying, and with Vanna clicking away.

  The house was a 7 bath, 5 bedroom oceanfront villa, with a separate guesthouse. It was surrounded by lush landscaping and was very spacious with a four-car garage. Phil thought this must have cost a fortune to rent. He made a very nice salary that allowed him to afford nice hotels when he traveled. This one was beyond his means.

  “This must be very expensive to rent,” Phil said.

  Plus the hefty last minute arrangement fee. “Money is made to be spent. I hope you like it,” Stacy replied.

  When they opened the front door, a delicious smell of home cooking invaded Phil's nostrils.

  Noticing Phil's surprise, Stacy laughed and said, “The chef prepared some food for us for lunch.”

  “You have a chef, here?” Phil asked.

  “It’s part of the costs. Don't worry, we don't have to eat here. We can go out if you like.”

  “Are you kidding?” Phil said. “I'm famished.” Besides lunch on the dining room table, there was also a basket of fruits and wine on the kitchen counter, waiting for them.

  “Where is the chef?” asked Phil. Except from the sound of the waves coming from outside, the house was quiet.

  “He only comes to cook. He doesn't live here,” Stacy sa
id. Phil didn't complain. It was nice to be pampered once on awhile. Sometimes he could get tired of his TV dinners.

  As they were having lunch, Phil tried to talk about what happened between them.

  “Phil, can we talk about it later? It was a sad time in my life,” Stacy said.

  Phil didn't push and felt sorry to have brought up the subject so soon. He would wait until the appropriate time.

  They spent the rest of the afternoon riding jet skis. Later in the evening, they rode two of the bicycles they found in the shed to the nearby Tiki Bar and Restaurant for dinner. By the time Stacy and Phil returned to the house much later, they were both exhausted. When Phil decided to stay in a separate bedroom, Stacy didn't protest. She expected that. She knew, however, it was only a matter of time.

  ##

  Stacy and Phil woke up the next morning to the smell of basil, garlic and eggs, which penetrated their rooms as if challenging them to resist. After a nice breakfast, they walked toward the outdoor swimming pool which overlooked the ocean below.

  A few hours later, Stacy was lying on a towel by the swimming pool reading a screenplay when the call came in.

  “All set,” her concierge simply said.

  “Thanks,” Stacy replied and hung up.

  “Who was that?” asked Phil. He was lying next to Stacy reading a detective novel. He wondered what Isabel was doing. Neither he nor Isabel had therapy sessions on weekends. He decided that he would try to get Isabel out of his system for good. It was painful to think about her and more painful to try to forget her. But what choice did he have?

  “It was my concierge telling me that something I ordered had arrived,” Stacy said. “Let’s walk to the beach. I want to clear my head.” Stacy was wearing a yellow bikini with blue stripes. Before receiving the phone call, Stacy had done her hair and made her face up as if preparing for a photo shoot. Actually, it is a photo shoot, she thought, now wondering if she had chosen the right bikini colors for the pictures.

  As they strolled on the beach, click, click, click, Stacy recounted convincingly the miscarriage story to Phil. “It was the darkest period of my life,” Stacy said, as shiny droplets of tears appeared in the corners of her eyes, glittering under the sun. Stacy looked so fragile, and Phil then took her in his arms, consoling her.