For a long while they lay in the dark, not speaking. Then Valerie ventured to ask, “You’re not sorry?” The magnitude of what he had done so impetuously began to hit him. Still, he could not honestly say he regretted what had passed between them. Pulling Valerie close, Harry murmured words of reassurance. “No, of course not.”
At the same time, Harry knew that he must make it clear to Valerie that he did not intend to embark on a full-fledged affair. For all their current troubles, he knew he was meant to be with Lily.
“You’re very lovely, Valerie,” he began, choosing his words with care. “In every way. But you know, I’ve been married to Lily a long, long time. Tonight … I’ll always treasure this. I want you to know how much this means to me. God, this is the first relief I’ve felt in two weeks. But Valerie, it has to end here.”
This was less than what Valerie had hoped for. While she listened to Harry in what he took to be accepting silence, in her heart she began to plot how best to take advantage of Lily’s absence. She hoped Mrs. Kohle would stay away in the country a very long time. If she did, Harry would be facing a lot of lonely nights, and for all his good intentions, she had already discovered that his resistance to temptation was weak.
Harry, on the other hand, hoped that Lily would miss him and return to New York City after only a few days. He called her every day, and while they conversed pleasantly, Lily never mentioned when she might return. After a while Harry became afraid to ask.
Although Harry had put Valerie off when she’d inquired about returning to work, he came to see that The Genesis would prove his only source of solace. He called Valerie, whom he had not seen or spoken to since the night of her visit, and asked if she might be able to start work again the next morning.
Her voice sounded pleasingly agreeable. “I’ll be there at nine.”
If Harry was apprehensive at the thought of seeing Valerie again, his fears were allayed the minute she arrived at his door.
Her demeanor was professional yet friendly. It was as though nothing beyond amicable work on The Genesis had ever passed between them. Within a week, the two of them were in full swing, immersed in the creation of the novel Harry felt would be his biggest success to date. And the whole time Valerie seemed content to maintain the sense of decorum which had characterized their relationship to date. Harry was surprised and relieved to be met with such uncomplaining competence.
After three weeks of separation, Harry finally broke down. “Lily,” he said, “we can’t go on like this. I’m coming to see you this weekend.”
But Lily demurred. “No, Harry, don’t. I think that for a while we shouldn’t see each other.”
Harry was chilled by the icy determination in her voice. He knew it was no use pressing, but he felt desperate and depressed at the prospect of remaining apart indefinitely. “Lily,” he said hoarsely, “please come home. I need you. It’s important we stay together—now more than ever.”
But Lily remained firm. “There’s a lot I need to work out on my own now,” she told him.
The next day Harry threw himself into his writing with renewed intensity. Valerie sensed the vigor of his efforts. She suspected his fervor wasn’t stimulated by the material alone.
At the close of the day’s work, Harry asked if she would want to dine with him that evening. “Look, I’ve kept you so late—why don’t you stay?”
She did her best to sound casual. “Sounds great.”
Mary, the maid, had left a meal ready for Harry. There was plenty for two. Harry opened a bottle of red wine to go with it.
He found it comforting to have someone to dine with for a change. He had truly put their recent tryst out of his mind. What gave him special pleasure was the newfound companionship Valerie offered him. But by the time they sat over their cognac, Harry was just tipsy enough to begin admiring Valerie for virtues other than conversational ones. Lily suddenly came to mind—like a warning—but Harry angrily banished her from his thoughts. Where was Lily now? he asked himself. She didn’t care enough about him to come back, why should he care at all about her?
After they’d drained their snifters, it was Harry who walked to her end of the table, reached down, and gently turned her face up to his. Their first kiss was warm and sensual, but somehow tentative. Then, once again, Harry swept her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. Accidents may happen once, but with this second incident, Harry could pretend no longer.
After that night, it was somehow understood that they would be lovers. For a time Harry had neither the will nor the desire to draw back. He didn’t call Lily for several weeks, and though he was somehow surprised when she didn’t call him, he spent his time—round the clock—with Valerie. By day, they pored over his work; by night they were in each other’s arms.
It was impossible for Harry to block Lily out of his mind. As time passed, he began to understand that he was using Valerie as a distraction from his troubles with Lily and a balm for his guilt over Jeremy’s death. Deep down, he knew it was still Lily he longed for. To continue this affair would only put off and perhaps jeopardize their eventual reconciliation. Harry also felt a pang of guilt for Valerie’s sake. He could offer her no future. Was it fair for him to lead her on? Harry resolved to end the affair for good. He would let Valerie down gently, try to make her see how this relationship wasn’t good for either of them.
Harry chose to break the news to her in a little Italian restaurant in the Village. That way he wouldn’t risk the temptation of the proximity of his own bedroom.
As they sat drinking Chianti at the candlelit table with its cheery checkered tablecloth, Valerie looked so genuinely happy he was reluctant to broach the subject of why he had brought her there. But he had taken her to this place with a purpose in mind. He was determined to carry it out.
“Valerie,” he began, “there’s something I have to say to you. I’ve been thinking a great deal lately about the two of us. I feel that perhaps the time has come to call this whole thing off.”
“Oh, Harry.” She tried to stop him from speaking further, but Harry held up his hand to silence her.
“The last thing I want is to hurt you. I care about you. There’s no denying that. But ridiculous as it sounds, I’m not prepared to sacrifice my marriage. And I’m afraid if we keep this up much longer, that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
Valerie was silent for a long moment. She was chagrined though not completely surprised by the news. Harry had long been devoted to his wife. But from her first day on the job, Valerie vowed to become the next Mrs. Kohle; she had fallen in love with Harry on sight and had loved him by reputation even before then. Though Harry seemed more determined now than he had been their first night together about ending the affair on the spot, Valerie felt this was nothing worse than another temporary setback. As before, it was a setback she would just wait out. There was no sense pushing Harry, no reason to turn nagging when his marriage to Lily was still so plainly on the skids. Valerie knew how little in touch the Kohles were. She was also well aware of her own native talents. Harry was not the first to fall under her spell, though he proved more recalcitrant than others she had charmed. She was by no means ready to give up. At the moment, she felt the best touch was a soft one. Follow Harry’s lead. There was no sense fighting battles; Lily would capitulate without so much as a shrug.
“Harry,” Valerie said, eyes brimming artfully with tears, “I won’t ever be the one to make you unhappy. Not ever. I’ll do whatever you say. But I’ll tell you this much, you need someone to talk to. Someone to listen. And if Lily won’t be the one to do it, then I think it might as well be me.” She looked him straight in the eye, her lip trembling fetchingly.
“Valerie, you know how much I care about Lily. I love her so. But I just can’t get through all this alone—Jeremy’s death, her blaming me, makes it even worse. You’re right—I crave another person’s company. Just the solace of a sympathetic ear.”
Valerie nodded and Harry continued, emboldened by he
r loving gaze. “If two people who love each other can’t draw together in times of trouble, when can they? God, I need Lily so much now….” His hoarse voice trailed off.
Valerie reached over and grasped his hand.
“Harry,” she said, “I’m here now. All I want is to be with you. I understand how you feel about Lily. But I’m prepared to offer you what she won’t. I’ll listen to you. I’ll be with you for as long as you’ll let me. You call the shots. But don’t turn me away before need be. Harry, you just can’t …” Valerie’s tears rolled down her cheeks.
Harry was overcome by her offer. How could he not be? Between Lily’s neglect, Valerie’s devotion, and the effects of the Chianti, he was a lost man.
Half-drunkenly, he shook his head. “She blames me,” he told her. “I know it. She holds me responsible for his death.”
“She should know how much you loved Jeremy. Even I know.”
Harry held her trembling hands in his. “Valerie,” he whispered. “Oh, Valerie. What did I do to deserve you?”
Valerie blushed. “I’ve been asking myself the same question with regard to you.”
In the haze brought on by the wine, in the glow of her seductive praise, Harry half forgot the reason he’d summoned her to the restaurant. He was suddenly as taken with her as he’d been on their first night. They continued as they had begun: working together by day, sleeping together at night. The whole while, Valerie plotted how to make this temporary arrangement a permanent state.
Chapter 27
IF LILY SEEMED OVERLY stern in dealing with Harry, she crumbled on her own. Her grief over Jeremy’s death seemed insurmountable. Some days she felt it was a burden she wouldn’t survive.
At night the Gallaghers could hear her crying through the thin walls. The unending sobs often went on until daybreak. By the end of the month of May, they feared that Lily’s grief would never heal. For Lily’s part, try though she would, she couldn’t forgive Harry for pressuring her son. Drew’s words rang in her thoughts much as she tried to banish them.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Lily, there was someone in addition to Harry who felt punished by her absence. While Harry found solace in Valerie’s arms, Ellis wrestled with his unhappy dilemma alone.
Ellis had long been in love with his best friend’s wife, yet he’d always managed to restrain his romantic impulses for Harry’s sake and in deference to Lily herself. But now, with Lily away in the country and their marriage seemingly on the verge of collapse, Ellis found himself sorely torn—and sorely tempted.
Lily had just experienced a mother’s worst nightmare. Ellis could hardly take advantage of her in her present vulnerable state. Yet how, in good conscience, could he abandon her at this crucial time? Without Harry by choice, Lily was all alone. Perhaps she was finally coming to realize what Ellis had known all along but had been loath to tell her: Harry was a decent man who loved his children and his wife, but his devotion to his writing, and to himself, would always top his list of priorities. Harry was driven by an insatiable need to achieve; as a result he neglected his home and his family.
For years Ellis had watched as Lily toughed it out, rarely saying a word against Harry. But he knew that she ached with loneliness, that life with Harry was as good as life alone. What Lily needed was a loving husband, an attentive one who would place her happiness above all else. What she needed, Ellis liked to think, was a man like himself. Ellis knew he couldn’t offer Lily the thrill of being married to a literary celebrity, but he suspected that was one thrill Lily never particularly cherished. And he could offer her much. After all, he owned the most prestigious literary agency in New York City. He could provide for Lily—probably as well as Harry could—and, even more important, he would never neglect her. And he would never allow her to go into exile the way Harry seemed to permit. Ellis observed that Harry was little affected by his wife’s absence. He was working harder than ever on The Genesis, and it seemed writing wasn’t the only thing Harry was up to. One evening Ellis had dropped by the apartment unannounced, as was his custom. He had papers for Harry to sign. To his shock, Valerie answered the door, wrapped in Harry’s dressing robe.
“Ellis! Hello,” she had said sweetly. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“Well, obviously,” he answered, coldly surveying her bare feet below the hem of the robe.
For whatever surprise Valerie feigned, she seemed genuinely pleased to be discovered.
“Harry’s taking a shower—he’ll be out in a minute. Why don’t you come in and let me fix you a drink?”
“No, thanks. Please just give these to Harry.”
Ellis never mentioned the incident to Harry, and Harry never raised it himself. But the meeting changed the way Ellis regarded his friend. The agent’s thoughts ran straight to Lily. Did she know? Could she suspect? Ellis doubted it. For however comfortably ensconced Valerie seemed to be at Harry’s, Ellis figured Lily was in the dark. Ellis would not be the one to tell her, but he would also no longer allow her tattered marriage to keep him at arm’s length.
He might have gone straight to the farm that evening. He might not have denounced Harry for the philanderer he clearly was, but he would have declared his own heart. But as luck would have it, Ellis had to fly to London the next evening. He was scheduled to leave at seven.
If it hadn’t been absolutely crucial, nothing could have held him back, but he was scheduled to meet with Colin Dempsey-Brewster, who had just finished his memoirs as head of the OSS, in order to sign a six-figure contract. There was no earthly way to put off that and a series of other appointments overseas. But the minute he came back the next week, Ellis resolved, he would visit Lily. He set off for Britain full of hope for returning to a new life with the woman of his dreams.
Although Harry never saw Ellis that evening, the fact of his friend’s discovery weighed heavily on his mind.
It had been six months since Jeremy’s death, and Harry hadn’t seen Lily in all that time. If he didn’t act soon, their marriage was doomed. That much Harry knew.
The very day after Valerie had opened the door to Ellis, while Ellis himself was London-bound, Harry drove up the highway in his Ferrari. When he opened the door he discovered Lily in the foyer. She had heard his car drive up. She paled at the sight of him. Harry ran to her and held her in his arms.
“Lily, I’ve missed you,” he told her.
“Harry, I … I need more time.”
“It’s been six months already. Half a year!” Harry trembled with rage at the thought of being apart any longer. He realized then what a fool he’d been to spend any time with Valerie. How could he have settled for anything less than his beautiful, lovely wife?
“Oh, Harry.” Lily sighed.
“You still want to stay away, don’t you?” He paused. Lily said nothing. “You still blame me for Jeremy’s death. You’re trying to punish me. Haven’t we both already suffered enough?”
Lily fell to the floor and began to sob. “Please go away, Harry—please!”
Harry just stared at her. This was a rejection he was never going to forgive—or forget. “Okay, I’ll go. But Lily, if you don’t come back soon, there will be nothing left to come back to. I won’t wait around forever while you wallow in your own self-pity.”
After he had driven away, Lily’s tears gradually subsided. She was surprised at how numb she felt after the wrenching scene. At one time in her life, the mere hint of divorce would have horrified her, but today, with the prospect looming before her, she felt neither shock nor fear.
Since the loss of Jeremy, nothing seemed to matter to her. Harry little appreciated how much she needed the time to heal. If he couldn’t spare her several months out of a lifetime, then maybe she would be better off without him after all.
Harry drove back to Manhattan in a frenzy of rage and despair, his speedometer registering ninety. In truth, his words had only been a threat. Harry could hardly contemplate life without Lily, a divorce was the last thing on earth he would pursue. But he d
idn’t know how to get Lily back. Nothing seemed to move her, not even the week the children had spent at the farm at his urging. Not even his own pleadings would help. Now, having tried everything he could think of, he was at the end of his rope.
That night Harry sat by the window for a long while, staring out over the city, a drink in his hand. Finally he telephoned Valerie. Just from the way he said her name she knew that Lily had refused to return. Although Harry didn’t suspect it, Valerie had worked on him subtly to insinuate the idea of giving Lily an ultimatum. She had been waiting all afternoon to hear the results.
“Harry, dear,” she said, her voice oozing sympathy. “Tell me all about it.”
But Harry would let her go no further. “Valerie, I just wanted to let you know about tomorrow. I don’t want you to come in; I don’t think I’ll feel up to working.”
“Are you feeling all right?”
“No … not really. And I’m not in the mood to go ahead with Genesis. At least not right now.”
“How about if I come by? Maybe I can help somehow….”
“No!” Harry almost shouted the words. “Thank you, Valerie, but I think I need to be alone.”
“You know that I’m here if you need me.”
“Thank you.”
After hanging up the receiver, he stared down into his glass and swirled the melting ice. Then, slowly, he picked up the phone again and dialed Ellis’s number.
He knew his friend would be disapproving of his extramarital escapades. Ellis’s silence on the subject would remain a more stinging indictment than any words, however fierce, might convey. But he needed his friend’s calm counsel and wisdom. And he also longed to redeem himself in Ellis’s eyes.
The butler answered. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kohle, Mr. Knox is out of town.”
“Where did he go, Edward? When will he be back?”
“I believe, sir, that he is in London until next week.”
Sighing heavily, Harry said, “Well … just tell him I called.” Harry went to the bar, got the crystal decanter, and brought it back to the coffee table; he settled back against the sofa cushions, poured the Scotch, and drank deeply.
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