An Abundant Woman

by Elizabeth Neff Walker

  “And as many disadvantages, I should think."

  His voice held a note that I couldn't identify. He seemed to be saying that none of this had anything to do with him, but somewhere in his tone that didn't ring true. Had I been wrong all this time? Was his absorption in his work not as total as I'd assumed?

  “Perhaps you've had experience of lovers?” I was tentative, attempting a nonjudgmental tone of my own. “This might be a good time to clear the air on that subject, Nigel."

  “It's not a subject I'm willing to discuss."

  That, after all he'd had to say about my supposed infidelities. “We'll have to discuss it if we're to resolve anything."

  “No, Mandy, we won't. I think I've made myself clear about that. If you want a divorce, fine. Is that why you called?"

  “I called to let you know where things stand. That this turns out to really be a separation, as you suggested when I left. I haven't decided about a divorce yet, but it may be the only resolution."

  “When you come back, we could go to counseling."

  “Would you be willing to discuss our sexual situation there?"

  “Certainly not."

  “Then I can't see the point. We both may need some time to think about this.” My head had begun to ache. A huge feeling of emptiness, too, was invading me. To have reached this point after twenty-two years of marriage seemed impossible, unthinkable. “Let's not discuss the matter with Cass yet, okay?"

  “As you wish."

  “I won't call you for a while. I hate the feeling of having to track you down and forcing you to talk with me. But I'll be here if you want to call."

  Nigel cleared his throat. “Mandy, it's all right about this affair. I mean, you're away in America for six months, lonely, susceptible. We won't worry about it when you come back, if you decide to come back to me. Think about it."

  “Goodbye, Nigel."

  * * * *

  Is that what I wanted—absolution from Nigel? Hardly. I had always wanted a marriage that included sex and open discussion of the problems that arose. On many subjects, and on many levels, Nigel and I had done very well. But there's no way to overcome the obstacle of someone stonewalling you. It's a dead-end.

  And this revelation that Doug Lattimore had hinted to Nigel that we were lovers, where did that come from? To my certain knowledge, Doug cheated on his wife regularly, but he hadn't done so with me. Nor had he hit on me in any way. Which was all to the good, since I found him repulsive in a sleek, sleazy way.

  Some men used their position in OB/GYN to seduce women, and Doug was one of them. He charmed attractive patients into thinking he was so taken by them, and only them, that he was breaking his own ethical code to have a short affair with them. After which his “guilt” took over, and he very sorrowfully ended the affair. Usually on the phone, which is where I'd heard him, more than once.

  Early on, I had tried to do something about it, quietly, by giving a hint to the woman involved, whom I had met under social circumstances. Apparently she repeated the conversation to Doug, which earned his undying enmity toward me. I told him he should be grateful I hadn't gone to the behavioral ethics committee at our hospital, and he had laughed at me. “Who's going to take your word against mine?” he'd asked.

  Who, indeed? The women he chose were not unsophisticated. They basically knew what they were doing. And some of the other men on the behavioral ethics committee had indiscretions of their own to hide, or hospital political debts they owed. Doug wasn't going to be censured by them. The only fallout would probably have been my own dismissal under some false pretext.

  It had never occurred to me that Doug would try to take revenge on me by hinting to Nigel that he was my lover. What would the purpose be? To get me in trouble with my husband? Poor Doug, he couldn't have picked a worse object for his sordid innuendo. Presumably Nigel wouldn't have cared much, in the first place, and would have been unable to bring the subject up because he wasn't willing to discuss our own sexual distance.

  Doug must have been frustrated by the lack of success of his ploy, but obviously he'd continued working it. Really, the man had a lot to answer for. On the other hand, he was in London and I was in Madison, which pleased me and irritated him. There was something to be said for that.

  And Nigel? Well, his response—aside from his thinking I'd been having affairs for some time—was pretty much what I'd expected: We could keep on the way we have been. But I couldn't, and I'd known that since I came here. My fear was that when I returned it would seem the easiest thing to do, keeping on. My “fling” would be over, I'd still have to face a stressful work situation, and my daughter, even at twenty, would still benefit from having an intact family.

  The whole picture depressed me. I decided to get on one of the bike trails Jack had introduced me to. The ride to Paoli and back would exhaust me physically—and built up a good supply of endorphins to carry me through the weekend.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cliff was gone for the whole weekend, not even returning Sunday evening as he sometimes did. I was worried about him and Angel, especially when he didn't show up for dinner on Monday. Later that evening, when I was going over a report I'd written on my progress with the ECPC materials, there was a knock at my door. Cliff stood there looking almost haggard, his face drawn and his eyes tired. I invited him in and offered a glass of sherry, which he accepted.

  For a long time he simply sat in the easy chair, staring into the amber liquid, not saying anything. I considered leafing through a magazine I'd bought earlier, so as not to seem to be waiting for him to tell me why he'd come, but he eventually shook off his silence and said, “It didn't go well."

  Angel is such a compassionate woman that I was surprised. I'd worried that she would be too easy on him. Despite Cliff's obvious distress, I was glad she hadn't. These lessons in life sometimes have to be hard won if they're going to be lasting.

  He raked a hand through his disordered hair and focused somber eyes on me. “Have you talked with her recently?"

  I shook my head. “Not since last week."

  “I told her about what happened with Roger that day, and she cried."

  He didn't go on for a while but I said nothing.

  “Angel doesn't cry much. At least not in front of me,” he admitted, as though perhaps that was his fault, too.

  His face underwent an even more profound deterioration. One of his eyes twitched. “She said, ‘You should have had the courage to tell me at the time, instead of behaving like you'd gotten away with something.'” He ground his teeth and grimaced. “That wasn't exactly how it was and I tried to explain, but she didn't seem to hear me."

  “I'm sure she did,” I said. “Just give her a little time to assimilate everything, Cliff."

  He shrugged helplessly. “But what if she doesn't get over it, Amanda? What if she thinks I've disappointed her one too many times? What will happen then?"

  I felt surprisingly sympathetic to Cliff. “Whatever happens, you'll deal with it. The two of you love each other. That's a solid foundation to work from."

  He clasped his hands between his knees, not looking at me. “I don't know what to do now."

  “Careful,” I cautioned him. “You're coming very close to asking for my advice, and you know I'm likely to give it."

  Cliff offered the ghost of a smile. “Tell me what you'd do in my place."

  “Right now your problems look a lot clearer to me than my own,” I confessed. “I guess I'd suggest professional help. You and Angel could go for counseling."

  Those wild eyebrows lowered stubbornly. “I couldn't do that."

  “Why not?"

  “I hate the thought of someone else knowing there's a problem. Besides you, anyhow.” He glared at me and stuffed one hand in his pants pocket. “I only want people to see the good side of me."

  Didn't we all? I said, “Hell, Cliff, do you think your facade fools everyone? Do you think your colleagues sit around and say, ‘Hey, that Lenzini, he really has
it together'? More likely they think something like: Gee, I wonder why he spends half his time in town when he has that beautiful wife and adorable child. I wonder why he isn't adapting to Wisconsin like most newcomers do. I wonder why he thinks he's such a hot shot, when half a dozen general surgeons around here can do the same things he does, pretty much. I wonder why ... ?"

  “All right, all right!” he interrupted me, only half amused. “So people gossip. That's never bothered me."

  “People notice things. And they probably find some of your behavior troubling."

  “Well, it's none of their business."

  Feeling suddenly overwhelmingly sad, I nodded. “No, but it is Angel's. She needs to hear you talk about the problems, and maybe you couldn't do that without outside help."

  When he said nothing, I continued. “Otherwise, maybe you'll convince yourself that Angel should forgive you and forget all about this incident. After all, it wasn't intentional, and you're sorry. Maybe, eventually, you'll convince yourself that your marriage didn't work out because Angel expected too much of you."

  His lips tightened. “My marriage is going to work out."

  “I hope so, but I don't want it to be at Angel's expense.” I leaned toward him, feeling a real compassion for his situation. “Marriage is a tough proposition, Cliff. No two people want the same things all the time."

  He sighed. “It's a constant question of compromising, Amanda. It wears you down."

  “Look at it from a different perspective. In some ways marriage is exactly like medicine. In every situation you have to ask yourself what's important—not to you, but to the patient. You may have completely different priorities than the patient does. A marriage has different priorities than a single career person does. It's that simple, and that difficult. Are you more important, or is your marriage, and your family?"

  Cliff regarded me with troubled eyes. He made no attempt to answer, but shrugged his huge, helpless shoulders. “I'm exhausted, Amanda. I can't think straight. I know you're trying to help, but I can't seem to put it all together."

  “I know what you mean.” I'd had a lot longer to put it all together, and I didn't seem to have done such a sterling job of it. “You just need time to think. When you decide what's important, you'll come up with a way to make it happen."

  Which sounded like very good advice to me. I hoped I'd be able to put it into practice.

  * * * *

  During the early part of the week I accomplished a great deal because I was intent on keeping all personal matters out of my mind. I concentrated the majority of my attention on the Effective Care in Pregnancy and Childbirth data, and what I was learning about the practice of obstetrics at the University.

  In England we'd learned that it was difficult to get practitioners to change the way they practiced, even when some of their practices were proved ineffective, or worse. In America the Agency for Health Care Policy and Research had devoted time, energy and funds to increasing awareness, but with no more success than we'd had in getting doctors to change, so far as I could see.

  Doug Lattimore was on a Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists audit committee which had recommended ECPC, but Doug had his doubts. Even before this trip he'd relegated the whole subject to my sphere. I wasn't at all sure he'd have pursued the matter with any diligence if he'd come to Wisconsin as he was supposed to. Which made it all the more troubling when Dr. Hager called me into her office.

  She waved me to the seat opposite her, where only a short time before I'd had to fight for my right to respect in my work here. Since then we had stayed out of each other's way, but she'd allowed me to do the clinical work I'd chosen. Now she offered me a cool smile and leaned back in her chair.

  “Today I had a long talk with Dr. Lattimore. He's feeling perfectly restored after his bypass surgery."

  “I'm delighted to hear it."

  She nodded, as if this were only natural. “In fact, he's feeling so well that he has every intention of finishing off the last three months of the fellowship. He plans to come for August, September and October. That means that you would be able to return to England at the end of the month."

  This possibility had never occurred to me. I wasn't even sure it was allowed under the terms I'd agreed to in originally coming. Shaken, I said, “It would be very inconvenient for me to leave at the end of the month. I've only completed part of my report on ECPC."

  “Dr. Lattimore realizes that and assures me he would take up where you left off. No harm will be done to the study."

  Except that Doug had less than no interest in it, and his own point of view was the opposite of mine. I attempted to remain calm in the face of her subtle delight. “When I accepted the project, it was with the understanding that I would be here for six months."

  “But you were only offered the opportunity to come because of Dr. Lattimore's illness.” She flicked back a swoop of her silver hair in a startlingly feminine gesture. “Now that he's feeling well again, he has the strongest desire to fulfill his original obligation. The project was specifically designed for him, as you will recall."

  Certainly it was put together by the two of them as the most likely project to get funded. Even at the time I'd found it ironic, considering Doug's dismissal of the ECPC conclusions. My belief was that he regarded the stay in America as a six month—now a three month—vacation. But I didn't know if there was anything I could do about it.

  “I'll talk with him,” I said, as if that's what she'd wanted me to do. “And check the contract I signed."

  “Yes, do,” she said, rising. “I think you'll find that everything's in order."

  Not precisely in order, I found, but with no strong case for my stand, either. The wording was ambivalent. Why hadn't I noticed that at the time? Presumably I was so intent on coming, and on making sure that it was written into the contract that I would practice medicine at the University, that it had never occurred to me that I wouldn't serve out the whole six months. Doug had still been really sick when I left.

  By the time I'd gone over my contract Friday evening, I felt thoroughly discouraged. Hager wanted Doug here, Doug wanted to be here, the contract didn't seem to bar that as a possibility. There were less than three weeks until the end of the month. Of course, I could stay a few weeks as vacation time, but then I would have to leave. That thought was incredibly painful.

  Back to London. Back to Netherhall Gardens and Nigel. Back to the university hospital where I constantly had to watch my back, after all these years. Back to a home where Cass had flown the nest and started living a life of her own. Back to a crowded city where health care became more and more demanding on its practitioners.

  Away from Jack.

  All of the other things I could have managed. Certainly I had managed them for years. But I had expected several more months, if I was lucky, of spending time with Jack, of us being lovers. I knew better than to fantasize about an enduring relationship with Jack. We had discovered each other at especially vulnerable times. We had needed each other and been grateful to find just the right combination of friend, colleague and, finally, lover. But you didn't expect a clinically depressed man to make a commitment to you. And you didn't make a commitment to another man when you were already married.

  Still, I had wanted to see him come completely out of his depression, to regain his love of his work, to find balance in his life again. For myself, I had hoped to burn down this candle of desire for him to a point where we could both say “Goodbye. It's been wonderful.” Three weeks was not going to do that.

  But it would have to suffice.

  Jack was expected back Sunday evening, late. I hated that he'd be gone two more days, when we had so little time left together. Maybe he would be relieved, though. Maybe a month was just about the right length of time to have an affair, when you were coming alive again.

  Mayfield House seemed terribly quiet that night. Cliff was away for the whole weekend, the Australians had gone camping, there was no one in the tel
ly room and very little of interest in the kitchen. I sat in the garden for a long time, watching the light leave the sky, the pinks and oranges and then blues and purples.

  My life, in a funny way, seemed to be going backwards. I had come to Wisconsin anticipating that the change would lead me to new ways of thinking, to decisions that would open different paths for me. Now it looked like I would go back to the same old life I'd led for many years. Well, even in London I could make changes, and perhaps I would. But I hadn't done it before, and I was very much afraid I wouldn't do it when I returned.

  The light was completely gone from the sky by the time I wandered back into the house. Once again nothing in the kitchen took my fancy. Nonetheless, I helped myself to a bowl of tapioca which I carried up to my room and ate desultorily. Though it wasn't late, I decided to go to bed. If I'd had the key to Jack's room, I'd have slept in his king size bed that night. But I didn't.

  * * * *

  Though I stayed up late Sunday night, Jack didn't arrive before I finally fell asleep. The phone rang at seven the next morning, just as my alarm went off. I reached one hand for each of them, knocking the phone onto the floor. “Sorry,” I said into the receiver when I finally retrieved it.

  “Did I wake you?” Jack asked, sounding amused. “The plane was late. By the time I got the kids home it was the middle of the night. Karen suggested I just stay here."

  “Oh. Did you have a good trip?” I asked, trying to sound cheerful.

  “You're supposed to ask, did you sleep with her? and then I'd answer, Of course not. Yes, we had a terrific trip. The kids made me book for next year before we left. How's your week been?"

  “Up and down. We can talk later. Are you going straight to work from there?"

  In the background I could hear faint kitchen noises. He said, “Yeah. I always keep some decent clothes at my office to change into, in case I have to spend the night on the couch there. You don't sound quite right, Mandy. You're not upset that I spent the night here, are you?"

  “No, no. I have some other things on my mind. I'm glad the trip was such fun. You'll tell me all about it when I see you this evening, okay?"