Shadow of Love

by Sondra Stanford

  She was waiting for Rod to return, of course. There was no sense kidding herself about that. Every nerve in her body was strained and tense as she listened for the sound of his car.

  It was an hour and a half before she heard it. A lifetime! She was still in the kitchen when Rod came in through the back door.

  "You still up?" he asked in surprise when he saw her. "Why didn't you just leave all that for Benny and go to bed?"

  "I just feel better when everything is neat and back to normal," Leslie answered. Casually, she added, "It took you a long time to drive Estelle home."

  A harsh, almost cruelly forbidding expression came to his face. "Yes. Well, we talked for a while. I didn't realize I was punching a time clock or that I had to account to you for every move I make."

  Leslie gasped and reeled backward against the counter. "I wasn't trying to…" Her voice shook uncontrollably. "I was only…" . "Stating that I'd been gone a long time. I'm well aware of that without your pointing it out to me," he snapped. "No woman has control over my movements, is that clear?"

  "Perfectly," Leslie flared back. "You're the island that no other mortal man is—a law unto yourself. Fine, Rod, but if that's the case, I'm not accountable to you either." She whirled and ran from the room and up the stairs, fighting back the tears that glazed her eyes. She would not allow them to fall, she would not!

  In the bedroom, she went swiftly to the closet and pulled out an overnight bag. Then, with quick motions like the fluttering of a hummingbird's wings, she packed it—slacks, sweater, bra, panties, a nightgown.

  She went into the bathroom, snatched up her toothbrush, and returned to stuff it inside the bag as well. She was zipping the bag closed when Rod entered the room. She sensed his presence even before she saw him, for her back had been to the door.

  "Where do you think you're going?" he asked in a harsh, abrasive voice.

  Leslie laughed shrilly. "We're not accountable to one another, remember?" The bag was closed and she lifted it from the bed and turned toward him. He was blocking the doorway so that she had no choice but to halt in front of him.

  "You're not going anywhere," he told her.

  "I'll do as I please," she hissed through clenched teeth.

  "Who will you run to?" Rod demanded. "Dave?"

  Leslie's eyes widened. She opened her mouth, about to deny it, and caught herself in time. "What difference would it make to you?"

  "What difference?" His face darkened with such fury that Leslie was suddenly half-frightened of him. "What difference? Damn it, you're my wife and I won't have you running off to him!" He snatched the overnight bag from her hand and threw it across the room with such violent force that it toppled over a large potted plant near the window. Then his hands were on her shoulders, strong and hurtful as his fingers dug into her flesh beneath the thin fabric of her dress. "We made a deal," he reminded her roughly, "and until I'm ready to call a halt to this marriage, you stay."

  "And when," she asked in a trembling voice for which she despised herself, "will that be?"

  Rod's eyes glittered. "I'll let you know when the time comes," he said. He released his grip on her and Leslie's own hands went up to nurse her bruised shoulders, as he added, "Right now, you can unpack your bag. You'll be spending tonight in my bed, not Dave's."

  Chapter Eight

  It was late afternoon and the dying sun cast vivid scarlet streaks on the darkening waters of the Ohio River in the distance. Leslie, in her stocking feet, stood at the window of her hotel room looking out over the city and the river, though her gaze was far from appreciative. She was too immersed in the murky bog of her thoughts to find any pleasure in the view or, indeed, in anything at all.

  With an inaudible sigh, she turned at last toward the room that seemed as though it was a luxurious prison. She was tired after her long, busy day with the decorators, and the impersonal atmosphere of the room was depressing. She yearned for the familiarity of home, yet contrarily, at the same time, she was glad to be away from it… and Rod.

  She decided to take a hot, leisurely bath, and then she would have room service send up something. Afterward, she would curl up in bed and while away the endless evening by watching television.

  The decision made, she had begun to unbutton her blouse when the telephone rang. A quick glance at the clock told her it would be Rod. Almost six. Ever since she had arrived in Cincinnati over a week before, he had telephoned around the same time each evening.

  "Hello," Rod said cheerfully when she picked up the receiver, "how's it going?"

  "Fine," Leslie answered listlessly. "I ordered the draperies today and I chose the accessories for the lobby. Tomorrow we'll work on the carpeting."

  "That's great." Rod's voice was hearty. "Then you're almost done."

  "Yes." Leslie's voice was dull.

  "Is there anything wrong?" Rod's voice was suddenly sharp. "You don't sound very enthusiastic about the progress you're making."

  Leslie roused herself with an effort. "Oh, yes," she said quickly. "I'm very happy with what I've accomplished and I think you'll like the things I've chosen."

  "I'm certain of it," Rod said with conviction. "So what's wrong with you?"

  Leslie chewed at her lower lip and then said, "Oh, I suppose I'm just a bit tired, that's all."

  "If you're sure," he said. "I'd hate to think of you away from home and perhaps coming down with something."

  "No," she assured him. "It's nothing like that, honestly. I'm fine."

  "When do you think you'll be back?"

  "Probably Wednesday, but I'll let you know for sure tomorrow night."

  "All right." His voice lowered and became sensual, more intimate. "I miss you," he said softly. "I'm anxious for you to return home to me."

  Leslie grimaced. Liar! she thought, but there was no heat in her anger. It had long since burned itself out. Facts were facts and a person simply had to accept them. Rod had sent her off on this trip for only one reason and she was under no illusions about it.

  She made some response that she hoped was suitable and believable without actually telling him that she missed him, too.

  They rang off and Leslie leaned against the telephone desk and buried her face in her arms in a gesture of utter despair. Why did he bother with all this pretense? she wondered. Did he think it would make her happier when the end came?

  When they had married Rod had said they would be good friends and honest with each other, but now they had reached a state where all they did was lie to each other. He pretended each evening when he called that he missed her and wanted her back, but she was not fooled for an instant. Rod had sent her away on this trip so that he could have some time alone with Estelle.

  None of it made any sense, she thought wearily. He had told her forcefully that night after the dinner party that he was not accountable to her, but then he had become blazingly furious when he had thought she was about to leave him and run to Dave. Since he was so in love with Estelle, what possible difference could it make to him if she had?

  Leslie stood up and finished unbuttoning her blouse as she went slowly toward the bathroom. If only she could stop thinking about Rod and Estelle together, but she could not. During the day, when she was busy, it was easy enough to shelve her personal thoughts, but the minute she stepped into this room and the silent walls enclosed her, her thoughts would instantly be picturing them smiling at one another, laughing, holding hands, kissing…

  She turned on the taps and let the bathtub fill while she stripped off the rest of her clothes. Then she stepped into the tub and stretched out, so that the water covered her entirely, and closed her eyes.

  It was the day after the party that Rod had come up with the suggestion that Leslie go to Cincinnati and work with the decorators and architects concerning the new hotel that was being planned. They had been showing the Lowells all the tourist sights and, naturally, talking a great deal about the proposed hotel, and after Leslie made a couple of comments about her preferences in dec
or, Rod had suggested she oversee the entire thing. But it was all just a bit too pat and Leslie understood at once why he wanted her away for a while. It would leave him free to see Estelle. The only thing she didn't understand was why he had not simply told her flatly that he no longer wanted to go on with their marriage, that he was still in love with Estelle and wanted to be free to be with her.

  She laughed bitterly to herself, climbed out of the tub, and began to towel herself dry. Loving Rod as she did, she knew herself a fool for having agreed to this trip in the first place. It was like handing him to Estelle on a silver platter. More than once she had asked herself if she should have stayed and tried to fight for him. And yet she would have been even more of a fool if she had tried. Rod had asked her to go, and what excuse could she have given for refusing?

  She was long getting to sleep that night. Somehow it seemed imperative that she know what she was going to do, that she know where her life was headed. It was as though if she had a definite plan in mind it could in some strange way obliterate her love for Rod, the love he knew nothing about.

  The plan never formulated and after a time she fell into a fitful sleep. And then, at some point in the early morning darkness, she awoke and knew what she had to do. The idea left her breathless and shaken and even a bit frightened, yet why should she not try it?

  She would fight for Rod with the only weapon she possessed—love! In many ways their marriage thus far had been wonderful. Rod enjoyed her company, he liked talking over business with her, and she attracted him physically—otherwise he would never have been tempted to break his self-imposed rule about no emotional involvement. With so much going for them, there just might be a chance that their marriage could succeed if she was brave enough to be totally honest with him, honest enough to tell him that she loved him.

  There was also the very real possibility that he would reject her love, that Estelle had enough pull to win him back no matter what, but Estelle had hurt Rod badly once and it could happen again. If he knew that Leslie loved him, it just might turn the tables in her favor, especially since they were already married.

  There was only one way to find out and that was by telling him—taking the chance by lowering her guard and letting him see her heart—and if, afterward, he still wanted Estelle, well, she would worry about that when the time came. If she dwelled on that possibility, she knew she would never have the nerve to go through with it.

  She was excited and tense on the morning she flew home. Her cheeks were heightened with a color that did not come out of a cosmetic jar. Last night on the telephone, Rod had promised to meet her plane and she decided that on the drive back to town she would tell him. It would not be the most romantic of settings but she needed to get it over with as soon as she saw him, before she could have time to lose her courage, before any other part of their daily lives could have a chance to interfere. She had to know today just where she stood.

  She saw his dark head towering above the crowd as soon as she stepped to the ground. He was smiling and had lifted his hand to wave at her, and Leslie rushed forward through the throng of other disembarking passengers.

  "Welcome home!" Rod's arms went around her and crushed her body to his and when she lifted her face he kissed her warmly. But an instant later he withdrew from her and said, "Estelle is here with me."

  Only then did Leslie notice the blond woman who had been standing half-hidden behind him. A dead coldness came over her as Estelle smiled at her. "Hello, Leslie," she said casually. "I stopped by Rod's office just as he was about to leave for the airport, so he invited me along. I hope you had a good flight?"

  "Yes, thank you," Leslie's voice was dull. Her body felt numb from the shock of discovering Estelle here and she could not have managed even a polite smile if her life had depended on it.

  In a daze, she allowed Rod to guide her through the crowd, to collect her bags, to get her outside and into the car. Rod glanced at her with sharp concern as he thrust her into the front seat, and he asked gruffly, "Are you feeling all right?"

  "Certainly." Her chin lifted slightly.

  For a moment, as his blue eyes assessed her, she thought he was going to pursue the subject, and she tensed with resistance. She did not want him acting the concerned husband—not with Estelle in tow. What a farce it would be! Her own eyes took on a dark glitter as she met his gaze head-on. She was silently daring him to carry on the pretense of anxiety about her, and after a brief interlude he nodded, as though satisfied with her answer, and then turned toward Estelle.

  "I think all of us can squeeze into the front seat," he said cordially as he stood back to allow Estelle to get in beside Leslie. Then he went around the car and slid beneath the steering wheel.

  Why had he really brought Estelle along to the airport today? she wondered unhappily. Was it a means of telling her, if she didn't already know, that he was in love with Estelle and that he wanted to get it out in the open as an established fact?

  "I thought all of us could have a nice lunch together somewhere before I take you home, Leslie," Rod said now. "It's nearing lunchtime. Are you hungry?" He smiled down at her in that easy, familiar way that tore at her heart.

  But suddenly all feeling returned in a hot rushing through her veins and Leslie became blazingly angry. She was darned if she would play along with their little game—going out to eat with them and pretending to enjoy herself while the other two left her out. Or maybe it was Rod's plan to bring everything out in the open during lunch—but if that were the case, she would not accommodate him there.

  "No," she said firmly, "all I want right now is to go home and get some rest."

  "But you have to eat," Rod protested, casting her a quick, disapproving look, "and Benny won't be expecting you, so he won't have prepared anything. I told him this morning I'd be taking you out."

  "It doesn't matter," Leslie said stiffly as she stared straight ahead. "I can fix myself a sandwich later when I feel hungry. But," she added with an effort, "there's no reason you two can't go ahead with your plans for lunch."

  "She's right, Rod," Estelle said cheerfully. "Leslie does look worn out and I'm sure she could use some rest. I'm sure if I had done all she has for the past week and a half all I'd be looking for is a little peace and quiet, too. Leslie, I really do admire you. It must be very exciting to be able to help Rod out in such a practical way, and I can sympathize at how fatiguing it must be. You mustn't allow Rod to bully you into going out to lunch when you don't feel like it. You've earned a nice rest."

  During the long drive into town Rod asked Leslie a few questions about the trip and she answered them as briefly as possible. She was far from being in a chatty mood and she longed only to reach the house, where she could be alone. After a few minutes, Rod finally seemed to sense her mood and he stopped questioning her. For the remainder of the drive he and Estelle kept the conversation going and Leslie did not even attempt to contribute to any part of it.

  They reached the house at last, much to Leslie's relief, and Estelle remained in the car while Rod carried Leslie's bags inside. In silence they went up the stairs to the bedroom, where Rod dropped the bags to the floor.

  "Sure you don't want to change your mind and come have lunch with us?" he asked her. Leslie shook her head and Rod added, "I really wish you would."

  "No, thank you," she answered with frozen politeness. "I'd much rather stay here."

  Rod shrugged. "All right," he said with a sigh of exasperation. "Suit yourself. I just thought lunch would have given us a little time to be together after you'd been away so long."

  "Together?" Leslie's laugh was harsh and brittle. "With Estelle along as well?"

  Rod's brows drew together in a frown. "Is that what's bothering you?" he demanded. "Look, I can explain that. I didn't want…"

  "There's no need for any explanation at all," Leslie said coldly. "You're not accountable to me, remember? Just go, Rod," she ended wearily. "Estelle is waiting for you and she's probably growing impatient."
>
  He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching her face, though what it was he sought was beyond Leslie. Then, abruptly, he nodded. "I'll be going, then." There was an undeniably angry expression on his face, obvious in the grim lines that slashed across his forehead. "We'll talk tonight," he added curtly before turning toward the door.

  When he had gone, Leslie sank down onto the bed and saw that her hands were trembling. Why did she have to love him, she asked herself bleakly, and give him such power to hurt her like this? Why had she been so stupid as to allow it to happen?

  Rod had said they would talk tonight. Well, that was fine with her. She had already determined that today things should be settled between them one way or another, and so they would. The only difference was that now she already knew how it would be settled and at least she could still keep her pride intact. No need now to open up to Rod in an effort to hold him. She had lost the war even before she could put her battle plan into effect. Tonight he would tell her what she already knew, that he loved and wanted Estelle and it would be up to her to bow out gracefully.

  She lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes. She did not want to think about the talk they would have tonight; she did not want to think about leaving. She did not want to think about anything at all.

  She fell asleep and when she awoke was surprised to see that it was already past four in the afternoon. She had slept the entire afternoon away.

  She got up and went into the bathroom to wash her face and her stomach rumbled hungrily. She had never gotten around to eating that sandwich after all. She would brush her hair and go downstairs to raid the kitchen.

  Benny was in the kitchen, polishing the refrigerator, when she entered. He smiled when he saw her. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Castle. Did you have a good trip?"

  "Yes, I did. How have you been?"

  "Fine." Benny's smile broadened. "I'm glad you're back. Now maybe Mr. Castle will be in a better mood."

  "What do you mean?" she asked curiously.