by Mary Haskell
He pushed himself to his feet and crossed to the rail. His mind returned to a truth he had acknowledged many times. He had wanted to marry Jenny. He had known she was in love with him, but she had never pressed him; he had been the pursuer. He liked her. He liked her strength and grit and sweetness, the same qualities he'd been giving her a bad time about lately. He winced, thinking of the times he had "teasingly" told her she should learn to lose control once in a while. "Wel , old buddy," he addressed himself aloud,
"you've seen it. How do you like it?"
Suddenly his need to be with Jenny was overwhelming. His whole life was built around her—her and their children. When he thought how close they had come to losing Rick, he was hit by a wave of nausea. Right now, at this moment, what sounded more appealing than anything else he could think of was to be sitting on the crummy old couch in their den, with Jenny on one side and Rick on the other and Christy sitting on the floor leaning against his legs, their usual position for watching TV. Al of them together, laughing at some dumb show, passing around a bowl of popcorn. And of course Dmitri. He'd have to be there, too, sitting on Larry's foot, trying to stick his nose in the popcorn bowl when it was passed. Jenny. Most of al , fie needed Jenny. He headed for the dinghy.
Two hours later Larry knocked timidly on the motel door. There was no answer. He knocked again, louder. Stil no answer. He tried the doorknob. Locked. He checked his watch. Only eight am. Jenny, where are you? He headed for the motel office, running his hands over his hair to try to smooth it down and feeling the stubble on his chin. He must look like hel . It was close to a two-hour drive each way to and from the boat, and he'd had no sleep in between. He should have stopped long enough to shower and shave, but he had been anxious to get back in time to drive Jenny to the hospital, to make at least a first attempt at reconciliation. The man in the office looked up as the door opened. "Good morning."
"Good morning, I'm Larry Andrews."
The man's eyes hardened. No doubt last night's scene in their room had been reported. "Yes, what can I do for you?"
Uncomfortably Larry shifted his weight on his feet. "Wel , I assume I owe you some money. Also, I wonder if my wife has been in this morning."
The hard gaze held. "Your wife checked out an hour ago. Took a cab. She asked if she could send me a check, but if you want to settle the bil , that's fine with me."
"Yes, I do." He paid the man and got out quickly, eager to be away from that accusing stare. Jenny would be at the hospital with Rick. Larry climbed into the borrowed Toyota and headed in that direction.
"Good morning, hon. How're you doing?" Jenny bent over to kiss the pale cheek of her son. His head was swathed in bandages, and he looked tiny and very young, but he managed a smile.
"Hi, Mom. The nurse told me you were here. I asked the doctor to hurry so I could see you."
"I'll bet he loved that."
"He didn't seem to mind. Where's Dad?"
Jenny tried to hold her smile in place. "He had to go make sure the boat was moored properly. I'm sure he'll be in before long."
"I hope so. Sorry to cause you so much trouble." His worried eyes studied her face. "You look like you've cried a lot. You shouldn't have; I'm al right."
Jenny took his hand and held tight. "You're better than that; you're wonderful. Oh Rick, I'm so grateful. We were so frightened."
"I was kinda scared, too." His eyes swung to the opening door. "Hi, Dad!"
Jenny swal owed hard as Larry joined her at the side of the bed. "Hi, son." He looked down at Rick with a strained smile. "Even encased in al that white, you look awful y good to me." The two of them clasped hands, the deep love between them passing back and forth.
The strain of trying to act normal in front of their son for the forty-five-minute visit was etched on both their faces when Larry and Jenny left the room. As soon as the door shut behind them she said, "1 wonder where the cafeteria is. I need a cup of coffee."
"This way." Larry started to take her arm, but she jerked away from his touch. The stony silence held until they were seated across from each other at a smal corner table in the semi-deserted cafeteria. He stared at his cup, then raised his eyes to her face. She didn't look at him. "Jenny, I—"
She cut in. "Larry, I want to tel you something." His heart jumped. Maybe she felt bad about the scene of the night before, too. Jenny continued, "You've been tel ing me what you want for the last six weeks or so. Now I'm going to tel you what I want. It's quite simple. I want to be left alone. The doctor has told me that Rick should stay here for three or four days, then I can take him home. I'll stay here until then. I've already cal ed Gina, and she's coming up to bring some clothes and other things I'll need. She has insisted upon staying with me and helping to bring Rick home. She's going to fix up a bed in the back of her station wagon. The doctor says that wil be fine."
"But—"
"Let me finish. I know you have to take the boat to East Boothbay, and whatever plans you make from there, I don't want to see you for at least two weeks. Maybe longer. If you want to come back here to see Rick after you transport the boat, I can't stop you. Al I ask is that you leave word at the desk what hours you plan to visit, so I can arrange not to be here. When we get home, if you want to see the kids, please cal first and I'll make other plans."
"Jenny, please." Larry reached out to touch her hand, but she hastily withdrew it.
"I don't know what you want to do about Ky—"
"If you'll listen—"
"No. Right now I don't know if I care one way or the other. I can't seem to feel anything except concern for my son and my daughter."
"Jenny, don't shut me out. Let me talk to you."
For the first time her eyes met his. They were light brown and lifeless. "Leave me alone, Larry." With that she stood up and left the room, her step determined, her back rigid. Larry had never felt so utterly helpless in his whole life.
Chapter Twelve
Jenny sat in the gazebo, watching the late afternoon shadows stretch across the backyard. The days were getting shorter; al too soon this scene would be covered with snow. She leaned back against the latticework, aware of the thumping of her heart. Larry would be here any minute.
It had been two and a half weeks since she last saw him in Maine, unshaven, disheveled. He had bowed to her wishes and had moved some of his clothes out by the time she and Rick returned. She had not inquired where he was staying, and their communication on the phone was limited to making plans for him to visit the children.
A separation already in place, she thought. After a few attempts to talk to her, he had stuck to her ground rules.
Just as wel ; they were learning the necessary art of being estranged parents dealing with mutual y loved children.
She bit her lower lip in a momentary lapse of the mental discipline she had fought so hard to attain—a discipline that had become infinitely more necessary four days ago,
when she had cal ed to tel Larry that she was ready to talk over their future and been informed by his secretary that he was in Dal as. By the time Larry had returned her cal , al options in that future, as far as Jenny was concerned, had been cancel ed.
"Hi." Jenny jumped. She had been so lost in thought that she hadn't observed his silent approach over the green stretch of lawn from the house. "I stopped in to say hel o to the kids, but no one was home."
"No. They're having dinner at Wil and Martha's."
"I see." He entered the gazebo and stood, uncertainly, his hands in the pockets of his dark blue corduroys.
Where's Dmitri?"
"He was invited to go with the kids."
"Oh." Larry sat on the bench in the center of the structure. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when you cal ed the other day."
"I'm sorry, too." Her eyes flicked to his face. Did he know that Esther had told her where he was? She could read no messages on the smoothly composed face. Her tenacity wavered as she gazed at the immaculately groomed, handsome father of her children, the love of her li
fe. A bone- bruising weight of loss crushed down on her. She pushed against it, reaching for her iron core. "You look wel ." Her voice was impersonal, a vocal lie.
"So do you. I understand you've been busy."
"Very. Believe it or not, the research for the professor's book is almost done."
"I can believe it. You're very efficient."
She stared at him, searching for mockery, but could find none. Her chin went up. "Yes, I am. I'm going to be working with Hal for quite a while, until this book is completely finished and the television special is done. Then I've been offered a job in research at Harvard."
"Are you going to take it?"
"Yes."
"Good. I think you should make use of your talents."
She gave a bitter laugh. "At least you won't be inconvenienced by my career." She blinked, furious at the push of tears at her eyelids.
Larry leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped, looking at her across the three-foot separation. "Jenny, I love you."
Her head jerked up. Her eyes widened in disbelief, the treacherous tears spil ing over. "Oh, Larry, how can you be so cruel? Can't you at least leave me with some of my dignity intact?" She jumped up and stepped to the open archway of the gazebo.
Larry stood and walked up close behind her, stil afraid to touch her. "Jenny, I don't want to leave you. I came here to ask you for a chance to make things right between us. I'd like to spend the rest of my life, if that's what it takes, to try to repair the damage I've done to our marriage, and most of al , to you."
Jenny turned, unable to believe what she was hearing. "But you were in Dal as. I thought you were there with Ky."
"I went to Dal as for one day, Jen, to tel Ky face to face that it was over. I wanted to do it before I saw you, so you'd know that there are no other options for me. Regardless of how long it takes to win you back, I intend to keep trying."
She shook her head, trying to clear it. "But why, Larry? Is it your sense of duty? Because if it is, I don't want you back. I'd rather make it on my own than have you here, knowing you want to be with someone else."
This time Larry did take hold of her shoulders and turned her squarely to him. "Jenny, Jenny, I want to be with you. I love you so. You're my life. You, my children, this place, but most of al , you. I think I understand why Ky threw me off base the way she did, and I wish you and I could real y talk it out. After al , on top of everything else you've been to me, you're my best friend."
The tears were now flowing unrestrained down her cheeks. She couldn't quite grasp the enormity of what Larry was tel ing her as opposed to what she had expected him to tel her. "But I thought... I can't be like her, you know. I can only be myself."
He pul ed her into his arms, holding her very close. "Don't you understand? That's just what I want. You, just the way you are. After al , how can anyone improve on perfection?" His warm blue eyes looked into hers, transmitting love, commitment, truth. "I had a chance to say, 'I'm sorry' to Ky. I was ready to say good-bye.
That's al over, real y over. Now what I want, more than anything in the whole world, is to come home."
Jenny let go of the iron core, al owing herself to release the flood of pent-up agony, to get rid, once and for al , of the need to bottle up her love. Larry held her, smoothing her long, sweet-smel ing hair, while she sobbed out her summer's load of sorrow.
She sank to the bench, leaning her head back against the latticework, stil not quite daring to believe in his words of love, his touch of love. He sat beside her, holding her hand, drying her tears with his handkerchief, murmuring words of apology and comfort.
"But Larry, are you sure it's over?"
"Completely, total y, unquivocably over. I realized it on that dreadful night after Rick's accident."
"But... I thought..."
"I know what you thought, and in a way you were right. I did try to cal Ky. I wanted to put an end to it right then and there. But she wasn't in. I realized later that it had to be done face to face, so she'd believe it and I'd believe it, and most important, that you'd believe it."
"But, Larry,"—Jenny's great brown eyes searched his— "you seemed so completely smitten. How could that change so quickly?"
He stood and walked to the archway of the gazebo, gazing out over the rol ing lawn and the elongated tree shadows cast by the low setting sun. "Jen, while I sat on that lovely boat on that grim night, I came face to face with a truth I had never recognized before. My love for Ky had actual y ended twenty years ago, before she hit me with the news about her pregnancy. It was wonderful while it lasted, and I guess I was trying not to let go."
He turned to face her, his blond hair back-lighted by the sun. "Jen, remember the passage in the Bible, about there being a time for everything?"
"Yes."
"Wel , the time for Ky and me passed. That's what I had forgotten—buried, actual y, in my guilt and shame over what happened."
Jenny stood and went to him, putting her arms around his waist, leaning her cheek on his chest. "Larry, I've been so frightened."
His arms tightened around her. "Oh, so have I, my darling, so have I. The hel I've gone through these past weeks realizing that I might lose you!"
Jenny heaved a big sigh, then asked a question that she had hidden in the back of her heart for fifteen years.
"Larry ... why did you marry me?"
He stared at her in amazement. "Are you serious?" His question was answered by the solemnity of the doe eyes. "Jenny, Jenny." He led her back to the seat, holding both of her hands in his and looking at her intently.
"Why on earth do you think I married you?"
Her voice was very low. "I don't know. I tried not to wonder because I was so glad you did. But I loved you for a year before you even seemed to notice me. Then in four short months you proposed. I had heard about Ky... I thought maybe it was, wel , a rebound."
"But Jen, al these years! We've had such a wonderful marriage, how could you think..."
She nodded vigorously. "I know, I know. It grew into something very special. You've always been so loyal, so loving, until... wel , until this summer, I had al but forgotten my doubts."
Larry sat silently for a moment, studying her face, and when he spoke, it was in a tone of total conviction.
"Jenny, have you no concept of what you mean to me—what you have meant to me right from the start? When I first met you, you seemed like a serious little girl. Then I began the incredible adventure of discovering al the complex facets of you. Your quick, inquisitive mind, always probing beneath the surface, always making everything we did more fascinating, more fun. Your little bursts of humor at unexpected moments, your amazing insights. Your constant, unwavering interest and faith in me. Do you know what that does for a man? I married you because I loved you. Because you made everything in my life richer and ful er, because you made me happy. That has never changed."
"And Ky?"
He grimaced. "Much as a man my age hates to admit that his mother knows best, she summed it up. Ky was a held over twenty-year-old emotion coming back to belt a man approaching his fortieth birthday. Plain and simple."
There was a tiny tilt to the corners of Jenny's mouth. "Not so plain."
He smiled. "Okay, not so plain." He took her face in his hands, gazing deeply into her eyes. "Jen, forgive me.
Please. Is it even faintly possible for us to forget this whole rotten summer and pick up our lives again?"
Jenny's eyes dropped, then rose again to meet his. "I don't know, Larry. Maybe we shouldn't entirely forget it.
In a strange way, I think both of us needed to get Ky Kayle out of our systems."
Their eyes held. "Done?" Larry asked.
"Done."
Then they sat in the gazebo, quietly, thankful y holding each other, watching the sun set. At long last Jenny, her heart beating rapidly for a very nice reason, whispered in Larry's ear.
He stared at her, eyes wide, a bemused smile. "Why, Jennifer Andrews, what are you suggest
ing? Right here in the gazebo?"
She smiled wickedly "Why not? It's about time it was christened properly. Besides, maybe I'll take a shot at improving on perfection after al ."
Shamelessly al owing her usual y hidden wanton streak ful rein, Jenny pul ed her more than willing husband to the floor, where they proceeded to rival the sunset for the most spectacular display of the beauty of nature.
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