"So far it is. But I have to admit ... I feel about as far from New York as you do in California." He smiled then and stretched back in his chair. "New Hampshire is awfully quiet."
She laughed softly from her seat at the counter in the kitchen. "Don't I know that well! When I first moved up there, when I put Andrew in the school, I used to get nervous just listening to the silence."
"What did you do to get used to it?" He was smiling, remembering the look in her eyes, and feeling the miles evaporate between them.
"I kept a journal. It became like a constant friend. I think in a funny way that that's how I started writing. The journal became essays, and then I started writing short stories, and then I wrote the first book, and now"--she looked around the streamlined white kitchen--"and now look what's happened, I'm out on the West Coast writing a movie I have no idea how to write. On second thought, maybe you'd better get used to the silence and let it go at that."
They both laughed. "Miss Fields, are you complaining?"
"No." She thought it over with a soft smile. "I think I'm actually whining. I was lonely as hell tonight when I called you."
"There's no shame in that. I called my sister the other night and I was practically in tears. I had one of my nieces relay all my complaints to her, in hope of getting a little sympathy from Martha."
"What did she say?"
"That I was an ungrateful bastard and that I was getting paid twice what I make at the New York School and I should bloody well shut up and enjoy it." He laughed at the memory of the words his niece had relayed over the phone. "That's my sister. She's right, of course, but I was mad as hell anyway. I wanted sympathy and I got a kick in the ass. I guess I had it coming. That's the kind of stuff I used to say to her before we ran away to Mexico."
"What was that like?" She didn't feel like working anymore. She just wanted to hear Matt's voice as she sat in the kitchen.
"Oh, God, Daphne, Mexico was the craziest thing I've ever done, and I loved it. We lived in Mexico City for a while. We spent three months in Puerto Vallarta, which was a sleepy little town then with cobblestone streets, where no one spoke English. Martha not only learned to lip-read, she learned to lip-read in Spanish." His voice filled with admiration and love again at the memory.
"She must be an amazing woman."
"Yeah"--his voice was soft--"she is. She's a lot like you, you know. She's got guts and heart at the same time, it's a rare combination. Most people who have survived tough moments in life become tough themselves. She never did, and you didn't either." It made her wonder again just how much he knew, how much more than she had told him. But he had already decided to confess to her. "Mrs. Obermeier told me about your friend up here. The one you referred to last time we talked." Matt was afraid to say his name, as though he had no right to. "He must have been a wonderful man."
"He was," she sighed softly and tried not to feel the pain of loss again, but it was hard not to. "I was wondering tonight how different my life would be now if he were still alive, or if Jeff were. I suppose I wouldn't be out here, beating my brains out over my typewriter."
"You wouldn't be half the person you are now, Daphne. That's all a part of you now. It's part of what makes you so special." She wondered if he was right. "I don't know if I'd say you were luck'y exactly, but maybe in a funny way you are. You've had some damn tough things happen to you in your life, but you've beaten them into tools you can use, and beautiful parts of yourself. That's quite a victory." She had never really thought of herself as victorious, just as surviving, but she also knew mat in other people's eyes that was how it looked. She had won: she was successful. But there was more to life than that, as she knew only too well. Much more. Even though now she no longer had that. But whatever she did or didn't have in her life anymore, Matthew Dane made her feel better about life and herself every time she talked to him.
"You're a hell of a good friend, Matthew Dane. You make me want to run out and conquer the world again."
"It's an awfully nice world out there to conquer."
"Who taught Andrew to ride the bike?" But she already knew without asking.
"I did. I had some spare time this afternoon, and he had nothing much to do. I'd seen him watching some of the older kids the other day and I saw the look in his eyes, so we went out and gave it a try, and he did great." She smiled at the vision he conjured up.
"Thank you, Matt."
"He's my friend too, you know."
"He's a lucky boy."
"No, Daff." His eyes were gentle and wise as he sat in his chair. "He's not the lucky one, I am. Kids like Andrew make my life worth living."
There didn't seem much else to say. "I guess I ought to let you go. We both have work to do." It was a comforting feeling for some reason, knowing that when she went to her desk, he would be sitting at his, both of them working into the night for the next few hours.
"Give my love to Andrew tomorrow, and a big kiss from me."
"I will. And Daphne"--he faltered for a moment, always unsure of just how much to say--"I'm glad you called."
"So am I." He had made her feel warm and happy and as though she had a friend somewhere. "I'll call again soon."
They each said good-bye and afterward she could still feel his presence beside her in the kitchen. She went to her desk, and looked down at her work, and then she walked into her bedroom, took off her clothes, slipped into a black bathing suit, and walked out to the pool. The warm water was delicious on her skin and she swam a few laps, thinking of Matthew. When she got out, she felt refreshed and went back to her desk after she changed her clothes. And half an hour later she was a thousand miles away again, lost in her screenplay. But in New Hampshire, Matthew Dane put aside his files and turned off the lights and sat staring into the fire, thinking of Daphne.
"What's she like, Barb?" Barbara and Tom lay stretched out beside his pool. It had been two weeks since they'd moved into the new house, and she had barely seen Daphne. She was deep in her work and hardly knew what happened around her. Barbara completed whatever tasks she had to, and every evening now she came over to see Tom. Both their lives had changed radically in two weeks, since they had become lovers. He held lightly to her hand now as they watched the sunset and lay beside his pool. He was always fascinated by stories of Daphne.
"She's hardworking, loving, compassionate, sad."
"She must be. She's had enough rotten stuff happen to her in one lifetime to kill ten people."
"But it hasn't killed her. That's the amazing thing about her. She's warmer and gentler and more open than anyone I know."
"I don't believe that." He shook his head and looked into Barbara's eyes.
"Why not? It's true."
"Because no one is more warm or gentle than you." As he said it she realized again how lucky she was. In truth, luckier than Daphne. She was silent for a moment as Tom watched her and then leaned over and kissed her tenderly. He had never been as happy in his life and he had watched Barbara open up before him in the past two weeks like a summer flower. She was laughing and happy and her eyes were more alive than they had been when he met her when she was in college. "Look at you, love. You were hurting too. Nobody can be that alone and be happy. I wasn't even alone and I was miserable."
"You didn't look all that miserable to me that day at Gucci." She loved to tease him about that. Eloise had disappeared two weeks before, and was already reported to be living with a young actor.
But Barbara also knew now that he had been desperately lonely while he was married. It was hearing him tell her about that that had opened her heart and allowed her to trust him. He had been so badly hurt, much more so than she had been by the lawyer who'd gotten her pregnant years before. She had told him about that too, and he had held her in his arms while she cried, spilling the guilt and the sorrow she had felt for thirteen years and kept bottled up inside. And then she had admitted that what she really grieved over was that she was now too old to have children.
"Don't be rid
iculous, how old are you?"
"Forty." He was forty-two, and he looked at her with gentle determination.
"Women today are having babies at forty-five and forty-seven and fifty, for chrissake. Forty isn't even remarkable anymore. Is there any medical reason why you couldn't?"
"Not that I know of." Except that she had always secretly wondered if the abortion had damaged her in some way and would keep her from having children. For years she had no longer wondered. It was obvious that it was irrelevant. But Tom didn't agree. "It really is too late. It's ridiculous to have children at my age."
"If you want them, it's ridiculous not to. My children have been the greatest joy in my life. Don't ever deprive yourself of that, Barbara."
He had introduced her to Alexandra, and she could see why his children brought him such joy. She was a beautiful, happy, easygoing young girl, with Sandy's striking blond looks and her father's gentle disposition. She hadn't yet met his son, Bob, but from all that she heard, he was much like his father and she was sure that she would like him too.
For six weeks Barbara kept her life secret from Daphne. Then one morning Barbara came home and found Daphne sitting in the living room with an almost drunken grin.
"What's with you?"
"I did it!"
"Did what?"
"I finished the screenplay!" She was exploding with energy and pride, her eyes alight with excitement. She had a sense of accomplishment second to none, and the secret bonus of knowing that the sooner she finished her work, the sooner she would see her son.
"Hurray!" Barbara had given her a huge hug, and had opened a bottle of champagne. It was on their third glass that Daphne looked at her with her eyes full of mischief.
"Well, aren't you ever going to tell me?"
"Tell you what?" Barbara's mind went momentarily blank.
"About where you go every night while I work my ass off." Daphne grinned and Barbara blushed furiously. "And don't tell me that you've been going to the movies."
"I've been meaning to say something, but ..." She looked up, with a dreamy expression in her eyes, and Daphne groaned.
"Oh, God, I knew it. You're in love." She wagged a finger at her. "Just don't tell me you're getting married. At least not until we finish the movie." Barbara's heart sank, Tom had mentioned marriage for the first time that night, and her answer had been much like Daphne's admonition. He had been hurt by her loyalty to her employer, but he had agreed to wait until the propitious moment.
"I'm not getting married, Daff. But I must admit ... I'm crazy about him." She smiled broadly and looked about fourteen years old instead of forty.
"Am I ever going to meet him? Is he respectable? Will I approve?"
"Yes, to all three questions. He's wonderful and I love him madly, and ... he married my roommate in college, and I ran into him at Gucci, with this incredibly beautiful stupid redhead, and ..." It all came rushing out at last and Daphne laughed at her.
"My, I've been missing a lot, haven't I? What does he do? And please don't tell me he's an actor." She wanted the very best for Barbara, and didn't want her to get hurt again. She suddenly frowned, worried, thinking about what Barbara had said about his marrying her roommate. "Is he still married?"
"Of course not. He's divorced, and he's a lawyer. He's with Baxter, Shagley, Harrington, and Row." And at that Daphne suddenly grinned.
"You know them?"
"So do you, dummy, or you should have. We haven't had to deal with them yet, but Iris said something about them before we left New York. They're Comstock's lawyers for our movie. Didn't he know?"
"He's been all wrapped up in a tax case for one of his clients."
"What happened to his wife?"
"She ran off with Austin Weeks."
"The actor?" Daphne looked momentarily stunned and then realized, as Barbara had two months before, that it was a foolish thing to ask. "Never mind, that was a dumb question. Christ, that must have been a blow to your friend. Austin Weeks must be two hundred years old."
"At least, but he's rich as the devil, and twice as good-looking." Daphne nodded.
"What's your friend's name, by the way?"
"Tom Harrington."
They exchanged a slow smile and Daphne looked pleased. "I'm happy for you, Barb." She lifted her glass of champagne to her friend and toasted her happiness with Tom. "I hope you both live happily ever after. ..." And then she grinned. "But not until we finish the movie." There was the same feverish light in her eyes Barbara had seen ever since they'd come to California. All she wanted to do was work at breakneck speed, get it over with and get home. But now that almost frightened Barbara. She was in no hurry to leave California.
She introduced Tom to Daphne the next day. They had drinks beside the pool, and Barbara could tell when they left that Daphne had liked him. The conversation had been relaxed and she kissed him on the" cheek as they left and told him to take good care of Barbara. Daphne waved as they got into his car, and then walked slowly back to the pool and picked up their glasses. She was happy for Barbara. And Daphne had an odd feeling of watching precious people set sail for a long journey. She felt somehow left behind on a lonely shore.
That night as she made herself a sandwich for dinner she decided to call Matthew. As a result of her two months of nonstop work, she still didn't know a soul in L.A. and she called Matt from time to time. He was becoming an even dearer friend, and her only real contact with Andrew. But when she called tonight, he was out, and she wondered where he was. He had never been out before, and she suddenly wondered if he had met a woman. It felt as though everyone in the world had someone except her, and all she had was her little boy, and he was three thousand miles away in a school for the deaf. It was a desperately lonely feeling, and even the victory of having finished the screenplay did not subdue her pain as she went to bed immediately after dinner, and lay there fighting back tears, her whole soul longing for Andrew.
The people at Comstock Studios were overwhelmed by Daphne's screenplay. It was more powerful than the book, they told her, and everyone could hardly wait to start. The actors had long since been lined up, the sets had been built. In three weeks they were to begin, and after a round of congratulations Daphne went back to the house, feeling pleased with herself, and very excited. They had hired Justin Wakefield for the starring role, and even though she thought he might be a little too handsome, she was extremely impressed by his talent.
"Well, madam, how does it feel?" Barbara smiled at her as they got back to the house together and wandered inside.
"I don't know. I think I'm in shock. I really expected them to tell me they hated it." She sat down on the white couch and looked around, feeling a little disoriented.
But Barbara smiled at her friend. "You're crazy, Daff. You always think Harbor's going to hate your books too, and they always love them."
"So I'm crazy." She shrugged with a grin. "Maybe I'm entitled."
"What are you going to do with yourself for three weeks?" They wouldn't start shooting until then. Daphne was barely able to keep herself from her desk for three days, let alone three weeks, but Barbara suspected what she had in mind as Daphne smiled at her.
"Are you kidding? I'm going to call Matt tonight and have him put Andrew on a plane."
"You don't want to fly back to New York?"
Daphne shook her head and glanced at the pool. "I think he'd love it here, and maybe it's time he saw a little bit more of the world than just Howarth." Barbara nodded silent agreement, wondering what he was like, she had still never met him. And then Daphne looked up at her with a warm smile. "Do you want to come to Disneyland with us?"
"I'd love it." Tom had a business trip to New York coming up, and she was already lonely just thinking about it. It made her dread how she would feel when she eventually went back to New York at the end of the year. She still hadn't accepted his proposal, on the grounds that she couldn't leave Daphne. Not yet.
Half an hour later Daphne got up and went to the phone, an
d called Matthew Dane at Howarth.
"Hi, Matt. How are you?"
"I'm fine. How's the screenplay coming?"
"Terrific. I'm all finished, and I found out today that they loved it. We start in three weeks. They had just been waiting for me to finish."
"You must be excited as hell." He mounded genuinely pleased for her.
"I am. And I want to spend the next two or three weeks with Andrew. How soon do you think you can get him on a plane?"
At his end, Matt looked down at the appointment calendar on his desk with a thoughtful look. "I can take him into Boston on Saturday if you'd like. Is that soon enough?"
She smiled at her end. "No, but it'll do. I can hardly wait to see him."
"I know." He knew better than she suspected how lonely she had been. He could tell by how often she called him. And it always amazed him that a woman with her looks and her mind and her success should be alone. There should have been flocks of people at her door, especially men, but he also knew that she didn't want them. "How's life otherwise, Daff?"
"What otherwise? All I've done is work since I got here. Now suddenly I've finished and all I do is sleep. I went out in the world today for the first time, to go to Comstock, and it was like having been dropped onto a new planet."
"Welcome to earth, Miss Fields. What are you and Andrew going to do while he's out there?"
"Go to Disneyland for starters."
"Lucky kid." Matthew smiled, knowing how Andrew would lord it over the others, but not in a nasty way, he wasn't that kind of child.
"I'll have to see after that. Maybe we'll just hang out here at the pool, although to tell you the truth, that kills me. I keep feeling I should be working every minute so I can get out of here faster."
"Don't you ever stop and just enjoy things?"
"Not if I can help it. I'm not here to have a good time. I'm here to work." Sometimes she sounded as though she were driven by demons, and he knew what they were. She was always pushing herself so she could see Andrew. "Matt ..." She suddenly sounded worried and pensive. "Do you really think he'll be all right on the flight? I could fly back to get him if I had to." But she had to admit that she was bone tired from two months of incessant work. But nonetheless she'd have done it for Andrew.
Once in a Lifetime Page 20